Lams Loveliness

Yours

[A/N: okay so this uses historically accurate descriptions, and is also in the proper time period. Just figured I should say something about that before you read this. Also it gets kinda steamy so like, watch out. Still no smut though, ya sinners.]

Hamilton paced back and forth across the tent, every now and again sending weary glances to the entrance of it. Usually, by this hour of the night, he would be scratching away at an essay of sorts, while Laurens complained that dim light of Hamilton's candle was keeping him awake, but tonight, it was different. Laurens had yet to enter the tent, and Hamilton had not seen him since he had gone off with a few of their fellow soldiers for drinks.

Had Hamilton been much of a drinker, he might have gone with them, but he simply didn't have the stomach for it. So instead, he told Laurens to go and enjoy himself, giving the excuse that he was far too busy to partake in the activities. Looking upon it now, Hamilton wished he had gone with Laurens, so he could, at the very least, keep an eye on him rather than worry himself to death over the older man.

Just as Hamilton had decided to take initiative and go search out his tent mate, in stumbled Laurens, a dopey smile on his face and the stench of alcohol radiating from him. Laurens was very clearly intoxicated. This, however, did not stop Hamilton from immediately beginning to question him the moment he opened the flap of the tent.

"Laurens, where have you been? I was just about to go searching for you, and in you walk as though you are Don Juan, well past cerfew, might I add. Have you no common sense? Did you not consider the consequences of--" but Hamilton was cut off by Laurens saying one word: "Alexander."

Hamilton seized in his rageful pacing, his hand frozen in mid-gesticulation, as he looked at Laurens with confusion upon his brow. He and Laurens rarely called one another by first name, in fact, Hamilton could easily list all of the occasions that they had, and the thought of them made his blood boil and his cheeks heat.

"Alexander," Laurens repeated, which made Hamilton wriggle in his skin, his hand finally dropping from its position in mid-air. Laurens began to slowly approach him, his blue eyes shining with the effects of the alcohol that he had clearly consumed. "Why are you upset with me?," Laurens questioned, stopping a few paces away from Hamilton, an expectant look on his face.

"I am not upset," Hamilton retorted, sounding very much like a child as he did so. Laurens sighed at this, taking another very small step forward. "That is a lie, Alexander, and you know it."

At this moment, Hamilton was silently cursing the fact that Laurens was not a slurring, boisterous drunkard like the other soldiers. No, Laurens was a reasonable drunkard, and rarely spoke with a slur plauging his words. The thought only made Hamilton wriggle more, knowing that even while intoxicated, Laurens would not seize until he had gotten a proper answer from Hamilton.

"I am upset because you," Hamilton paused, pointing an accusing finger towards Laurens, being only steps away from being able to touch the older man's chest. At that thought, Hamilton felt himself flush like a school girl, and he was no longer looking Laurens in the eyes. "You were out well beyond curfew."

Hamilton could barely contain his shocked gasp when he felt Laurens wrap both of his hands around his own, which was still outstretched in an accusing manner. "And you were worried on my behalf?," Laurens questioned, pulling Hamilton closer by the hand that he had captured; They were now sharing elbow space, which only made Hamilton's temperature rise.

"We--well, of course," Hamilton slurred, his violet eyes still downcast. "You are my tent mate, it's my duty to assure that you are in at a reasonable hour. Imagine if you had gotten hurt or...worse, under my watch. Washington would never allow me to lead."