Tango

Thank you, Marie.

To Thomas's dismay, his ankle still hurt by the next morning. Not wanting Alexander to feel bad about it - he tried not to let it show. Keeping quiet about his persistent injury, they had made their way down for breakfast with the Lafayette's, and all throughout, the taller man couldn't help but notice the quick glances Marie would throw their way. Her eyes darting between the two men, accompanied by a small knowing smirk. Jefferson kept observing her, wordlessly.

"Is something the matter, Thomas?" She challenged, having noticed him starring.

"Oh, no. You just seem particularly, amused this morning. That's all."

The brunet looked up from making his sandwich having noticed the way his lover had emphasized his words, feeling something amiss.

"What? No, I'm the same as always." She feigned, innocently. One of her hands, feeling the baby move in Hamilton's belly. Having gotten quite close within the last few days, she was one of few who didn't have to ask for permission.

Both Michel and Gilbert had looked at each other confused, getting a strange feeling about the situation.

"You keep looking between me and Alex all funny-looking. What is it?"

Marie pondered for a couple of seconds if suddenly imitating the various noises she had heard coming from their bedroom was appropriate at the moment before deciding otherwise.

"I take it the wrestling practice went well yesterday?" Was what she offered instead.

The two Lafayette men almost did a spit take, as both Alex and Thomas's faces got five shades redder. The Virginian's mouth parted in disbelief.

"Marie!" He chided.

"What? I'm just happy for you, Thomas."

"Marie, be reasonable. Would you? Look how you've embarrassed our boy." Michel motioned to the now, beet-red Caribbean across from him, whose face didn't dare leave his lap.

"Oh, don't be upset, sweetheart. I'm just teasing, it's all in good fun." She side-hugged him, rubbing his upper arm for comfort.

Alexander damned how fragile he was in his current state, as no matter how hard he tried, small, stinging tears still crept at his lower lids. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve and excused himself for a moment.

Everyone watched as the younger man left the dining room, Thomas running after him shortly thereafter.

"Mooom." The Marquis whined at his mother annoyed and ran after his friends. Michel grumbled something under his nose, unimpressed.

"What did you say?" She dared him to repeat himself.

"I hope you're proud of yourself, honestly." He turned his attention back to his previously bitten slice of bread.

The Frenchwoman didn't have a response, guilt settling on her features. Minutes drew out and the three youngest weren't returning. With a huff, she pushed herself away from the table in search of the men.

"Boys?"

Her calls reverberated around the house, lost. It wasn't long until she found the trio, on the garden swing outside. Her son, sitting by the brunet's side while Thomas crouched in front of him rubbing his thigh. Their conversation, being in English, she didn't understand what they were saying to him. Quietly, she came up behind them.

"Could you give us a moment, please?" Her plea, addressed more so towards Hamilton than anyone else, hoping he wasn't too upset to talk to her.

The taller men didn't move until Alex had asked them to wait for him inside. Carefully, Marie sat beside him silently, thinking what words could possibly save her skin.