Tango

A Gentlemen's Night

By Saturday evening, Alex was already sick of the party he was about to go to - he didn't care for it. If he had any say in it, he wouldn't go, but since Washington was gonna show, he had to go even if just for an hour or two. And so Alex got ready - everyone called it an office party but, he would've called it a gala, it happened every year and they had to dress nicely, their regular work clothes weren't enough. He put on a black suit and called it a day - he didn't have to impress anyone - he isn't making it to midnight.

Alexander showed up late for a change he really didn't want to be there he didn't care, he entered the building, making small talk with every other person he encountered, and made his way to the main lobby. Where he met up with John and Lafayette - the trio beginning to sip on some drinks that were readily available around the room. Around twenty minutes later, a slightly tipsy Frenchman noticed their boss on the other side of the room having a conversation with none other than a tall, dark, and surprisingly non-extravagantly dresser man. Hamilton looked over his friend's shoulder to try and spot the two distant figures. What the hell was Thomas doing here? He said he wasn't coming?

Regardless of that fact, that just gave Alex more of a reason to drink - as much as Jefferson on his end was fine with being nice to Hamilton, the opposite wasn't always true. It wasn't that Alexander wanted to be mean again, it was just taking him a little longer to adjust to the idea, the whole change of situation had happened so suddenly he was still persuaded it's some sort of a joke. So once Jefferson found Hamilton already drunk about an hour later, he wasn't really impressed.

"Hey, Alexander, what's up." Thomas sat down by the shorter man's side, leaning his cane against a chair.

"Oh, Hey, Thomas."

Alex wasn't slurring yet, but his words were beginning to get mumbled, letting the darker man know what was going on.

"What are you doing here? You said you weren't coming?"

"I- uh, didn't have anything better to do so, I thought I'd drop by... I had some stuff to talk over with Washington anyway."

That wasn't true - there was always something better Thomas could do, but since they have been on good terms and he knew Hamilton would be there, he decided to come, so they could hang out together - this is not what he had in mind.

"Alex, how much did you drink?"

Jefferson had only now focused on the cemetery of empty shot glasses on the table, picking one up in disgust.

"Ayy, you called me Alex." The other grinned. "I like that."

It was clear he wasn't going to get an answer out of his co-worker, and for some reason, the brunette's friends had ditched him, probably drunk themselves. He was about to comment something - when a shot glass filled with vodka was rapidly brought to his lips, spilling some of its contents on his dress shirt.

"Hamilton! What are you doing?!" The sudden nature of the event almost angered Thomas but, - he reasoned with himself that drunk Alex probably doesn't equal smart Alex.

"Drink with me, Thomas - we'll get to know each other better."

The younger man reasoned, and while Jefferson knew, no drunk person ever speaks reason, he also knew - as Rousseau had said himself - "A drunk mind, speaks a sober heart." This was a slippery slope - if Thomas got too drunk, this could turn sour but if he could keep himself level-headed, he could get Hamilton to confess things he never thought possible. And so with this poorly deducted reasoning - the taller man poured himself a drink. The burn of the alcohol slowly cauterizing his throat, he winced as he felt it enter his system. Alex was about to get another drink, but Thomas stopped him, taking the glass for himself.