Falling Through Time: Basking in Firelight: Book 2

Ink and Strings

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Warnings: Delicious and sinful smut

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The government dropped a bomb on Monticello the next morning, killing both Jefferson and Hamilton as they slept.

No! I'm just kidding! Kidding! I swear! Okay, story now.

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Hamilton woke to an empty bed. He shot up, alarmed, "Thomas?" he called, a little panic edging into his voice. It wasn't a dream, he was sure of it. "Thomas?" he called again, climbing out of bed trying to calm his voice.

The door swung open, "Did you call me?" Jefferson asked, stepping into the room.

"Oh thank God," Hamilton breathed, shoulders sagging in relief. Jefferson stood in the doorway confused for a second before piecing it together himself. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have done that to you," he said, wrapping Hamilton in a hug.

Hamilton reveled in the warmth Jefferson always radiated for a moment before pulling away. "What're you doing up so early?"

Jefferson grinned, "Come downstairs and I'll show you." Hamilton followed Jefferson curiously to the kitchen where he found breakfast all laid out. "I made breakfast!" Jefferson said happily, "It's been ages since I've gotten a chance to cook and this was the perfect opportunity."

"I'm impressed you didn't make five pots of macaroni,"  Hamilton said.

"You know, a thank you would have done just as well."

Hamilton smiled and snatched a plate off the counter, loading it up with mounds of food, and sat down at the dining table in the next room, Jefferson followed soon after with his own plate of food. "It's been awhile since I've had a real meal," Jefferson said, "All I've had of late were those MRE's and that terrible excuse for oatmeal HQ likes to dish out." Hamilton didn't respond as he was too busy shoving food in his mouth and drowning it in coffee.

After breakfast, Jefferson went to change his clothes so he could wash them. "What do you expect to find?" Hamilton asked, "Even if some of your clothes were left here, they're probably no more than dust after all these years."

Jefferson paused on the stairs, "Shit, you're right. I guess I'll go see if those soldiers left any spare clothes that are near my size." Jefferson returned and threw some clothes in Hamilton's face, "Here these should fit you. Change so I can throw your set in the washer."

"These are machine washable?" Hamilton asked, referring to the Kevlar and bulletproof vest.

"Yeah, the vest and Kevlar just slip out and then you can throw them in the washer."

"What washer?" Hamilton rolled his eyes, "Thomas, we're in a museum. There is literally no electricity or anything."

"Fuck," Jefferson said, "I guess I'll just do laundry like I used to, with a washboard and a bucket of water. I lived like that once, I can do it again."

***

Jefferson hanged the clothes he washed up on a line to dry and stood back, proud of his accomplishment. "Alexander," he called, walking back inside, "I'm going to take my morning ride now, I'll be back in an hour or so."

Hamilton appeared in a doorway, "Yeah?" he asked, "And how are you going to do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have horses anymore, Thomas." 

Jefferson stared blankly at the wall. "Right...I don't have any horses..."