Becoming a Founding "Father"- Historical Hamilton

Chapter Twenty-Six: Lover Boy

After my wound healed enough that I could walk, Margaret kicked me out of her tent. I could barely get a word out before she locked herself in. I remember that it was very late in the evening by then, and I could see stars twinkling back at me. I smiled sadly- they looked much prettier than the glaring rays of the sun. 

I took my time, getting used to walking again. After all, no one is waiting for me, and Alex stills thinks I'm bedridden. The humid weather of the summer night passed by me, messing up my ponytail. Half of the strands fell out of it anyway, which is why I decided to just pull the ribbon out and let my hair be free.

My hair made contact with my skin, and I'm reminded of how oily it is. It's not clean at all, but it's not the dirtiest it's ever been. After all, I washed my hair three weeks ago, it should still be fine.

The camp is still bustling with life, with soldiers and camp followers rushing around me. We'll be going to Philadelphia soon, which is great news. It's the current capital of America- since New York has been taken taken by the British- and I heard that we'll finally get actual accommodation. I can't remember the last time I slept in an actual bed, rather than the stiff cots of the army. 

Though Alexander did inform me to not get too overexcited- we'll only stay there for a week, and then we're back at camp, albeit in a different place.

After a while, I decided to head back to the aide quarters since my legs started aching. I passed Tilghman's, Harrison's and Meade's room, and I see a soft glow coming from the inside. Since Meade is always up and about, I'm not surprised that his duties had just finished now. I watch the man's silhouette for a moment before moving to mine, Alex's and Laurens' room.

And yet I felt like something was off when I touched the door handle. As if a whisper in my head told me to wait, listen for a second. Whatever it was, it didn't seem dangerous, so I let go of the handle and leaned against the door.

For a moment, I hear nothing. And then I did, and cursed whatever God that gave me hearing. Through the heavy door, I could hear the rustling of clothing, choked gasps and cut-off moans, and my brain short-circuits.

What the hell is Alexander thinking, bringing a missus to our room?

I'm almost a hundred percent sure that it's not Laurens- the man is emotionally detached from everyone, except- and he never showed any interest in any woman before. Alexander has admitted to sleeping around before, which was quite an interesting conversation to have, but I never thought he'd be this shameless!

With burning cheeks and several curses on my tongue, I rush to our living-work quarters. While we do have a dining room, that is usually reserved for dinner and meetings, so most of us just hang out where we work. I flop onto my chair, putting my head in my hands and letting out a tired laugh. 

I guess I'll be here for a while. God knows how long he'll be entertaining his lady. 

After lighting a candle and picking up my pen, I take a scrapped letter and flip it to its clean side. Deciding to just draw whatever's on my mind, my thoughts drift. 

I'm brought back to reality when the door opens, letting in a gust of wind. By then, the page was filled with ink, and I turn around to a gasp. "This can't be! Monsieur Layden?"

Though Lafayette's accent was still heavy, his words sounded much clearer than the last time I've seen him. I grin, standing up. "The one and only." In a few wide strides, he had got to me, embracing me in a tight hug. 

He laughs. "Mon cher, you look horrid." Nevertheless, he presses his cheek to mine, making a kissing noice. It's a French greeting, faire la bise if I remember correctly, but that doesn't slow my heartbeat down. His usually royal features look even more majestic in the candlelight, and I smile warmly.