Hamilton
Hamilton stood out on the balcony of the house Lafayette let them use. It was still dark outside, probably around four in the morning, but he still stared out across the sea of lights like he wasn't supposed to be sleeping. Then again, who would want to sleep when staying up late was so much better?
In all fairness, he did go to sleep. He just woke up and decided to go over everything on his own, like he'd done nearly every day since Andre got arrested. He mostly thought about how Andre was so determined when he said he'd get. Alexander doubted that the man would be able to get out on his own, no matter how highly he thought of himself.
He also said he was worse than King, which he was technically, if you thought about pride. King wasn't as organized and powerful as everyone thought, but Andre wasn't as prepared as he needed to be. Neither of them could contain Hamilton, though.
"You sleep like a newborn baby," Thomas hummed as he came to stand next to Alexander.
"Yeah but newborns are cute, so that's a compliment," Alex replied slyly.
"They're also up all night. What are you doing out here anyway?"
"Thinking."
"About Andre?"
Hamilton shrugged, letting Thomas know he was right.
"He's not coming back," Jefferson said quietly. "I watched them take him."
"No I know, but still. . . I was pretty stupid to believe he was trying to get away."
"Yeah that was pretty dumb."
"Way to make a guy feel better Thomas. Very romantic."
"Let me finish," Thomas laughed. "It was dumb, and I definitely told you so, but we're alright now. He's gone, you're here, I'm devilishly handsome, everything's right with the world."
"Remind me why I married you again?" Hamilton laughed, going over and sitting on the table.
"I think I just gave a pretty solid reason, I am devilishly handsome." Thomas crossed his arms proudly with a smile to match.
Alexander hummed with false thought and tapped his chin. "I give you an eight."
"Eight?!"
"Yeah, you're like twenty percent hair, thirty percent leg, and fifty percent ego," Ham explained.
"So then how am I an eight? You said all that like I was supposed to be offended, which I wasn't, I pride myself in all those things."
"You've got a pretty nice face," Alex explained. "Plus your husband? Probably the smartest, most handsome person I've ever met, personally."
Thomas rolled his eyes and moved to stand in front of Alex.
"Now look who's got an ego," he hummed.
"Am I wrong?" Alex asked with a smirk.
"Yeah, I think I like your husband more. He actually sleeps the entire night and doesn't have bags under his eyes."
"Custom made bags, Tommy, I've worked hard for these things!"
Thomas rolled his eyes and Alexander smiled, hopping off the table.
"Come on," he said. "Lets go back to bed."
"What about your custom bags?" Jefferson mocked, following the smaller man inside.
"Blue's not really my color, now shut up before I change my mind."
Alex bent down to pick up a jacket from the floor first. Typically, people don't sleep with jackets on, but Alexander didn't care what they did he wanted to sleep with the jacket on, so he was going to. The two jumped into the large bed, literally, and got comfortable.
"G'night, Darlin'," Thomas hummed.
"Goodnight, overused-yet-still-endearing pet name."
Thomas laughed for a second, making a comment on how they really needed to work on the sarcasm.
Alexander fell asleep smiling and feeling safe with the Letterman and Thomas's arms wrapped around him.
--end--