Hamilton vs. Jefferson...Or Not

Chapter Four

There was something tickling the side of her face. Safety and warmth enveloped her like the pair of arms wrapped around her middle. Whomever she was snuggled up with smelled of sharp spices, mint, and a little bit of something that had to be aftershave or perfume.

It was the feeling of security.

Alexandra sighed, nuzzling her face against the body. Her mind, still slowly waking up, was only just then becoming aware of the less obvious things: The outline of a six-pack underneath a t-shirt, the scraggly sensation of facial hair rubbing against her face.

She didn't want to think about anything else but laying in this man's arms, ignoring her life's problems and everyone else's. Just once, could she be able to rest? Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently, yes, it was, for the moment she asked those two questions, last night bombarded her mind.

The crying, the drinking, and the weakness that she displayed was disgusting to Alexandra. How could she have let anyone, let alone Jefferson, see her like that. Crying and tears were meant for the privacy of yourself alone, especially when you were Alexandra Hamilton.

As much as she hated to admit it later on, Alex had laid there for a little while longer before pulling herself away. Or, attempting to, anyways.

Like in every cliché moment in the history of ever, when Hamilton started to remove herself from her personal heater, said heater didn't allow her to.

Jefferson's arms tightened around her, making Alex freeze. Once again, in the span of two days, she had gotten herself in another, rather bad situation. One begin Lafayette's almost failed pick-up. Two was about to occur in less than a minute.

Simultaneously, Thomas groaned, voice going all high-pitchy at the end, and stretched. And, as much as she hated to admit it, the fully-awoke woman could truly say that it was a pretty nice sight; head thrown back, chest puffed out, and dipped down.

What was annoying, though, was that as Jefferson, when he did stretch, tightened his hold around Alexandra and brought her to a new level of familiarity with his biceps.

Hamilton refused to look anywhere near the dark brown eyes that were now starting to flutter open.

One... Long eyelashes flying about, adjusting themselves to light morning light streaming in through the windows.

Two...Look around the room for a second to make sure he knew where he was and register the fact that there is a body getting squeezed against them.

Three...Tense once one becomes aware who that body belonged to.

...And then relax?

Why would he relax if he knew his antagonist was sitting on his lap? It was like inviting Adolf Hitler to have a beer with Winston Churchill at the White House. Who would do that?

Thomas Jefferson, the answer coming unbidden to his mind.

The silence was really unbecoming of either of them, but they laid there, not knowing what to say before Jefferson decided to be his regular self: a jerk. (Hamilton had refused to note the way Jefferson still hadn't let go of her.)

"Enjoying the view?" Thomas smirked, telling himself it was amusing the way Alexandra's jaw dropped when she became offend. Internally, he wanted to help relieve some of the silence as well. Silence with Alexandra Hamilton in the room was weird.

Really weird.

"Why the hell was I asleep on you?" She asked, defensive. Alex knew why, but she needed some words to fill the air. Also, the coffee was a room away.