Falling Through Time: Basking in Firelight: Book 2

Unexpected Visitor

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Warnings: None?

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The next day, when Jefferson was setting lunch out on the table, a knock sounded at the door. Hamilton and Jefferson both exchanged a glance before rushing to put their walking armories on. Jefferson answered the door, putting every bit of charm into his smile and his words.

"Well hello there and who might you-" Jefferson's words cut short. "What're you doing here?" he asked, his tone turning icy.

"To talk of course," said the man standing on the front porch.

"About what?"

"The war," the man answered simply.

Jefferson grit his teeth but open the door wider and stepped aside, "Please, join us for lunch then. There's plenty for everyone."

"Why thank you, it's much appreciated," the man said, stepping inside and removing his hat. "Such a lovely place you got here. It really seems as if it belongs to you, Mr. Jefferson," he said offhandedly. Jefferson rose an eyebrow at Hamilton, questioning the implications behind the man's words.

Hamilton stood in the doorway to the dining room, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder against the doorframe, hip cocked to the side. The man stepped forward and held out his hand, "George William Frederick Hanover, but most call me George the Third. Feel free to call me George."

"I know who you are," Hamilton said, his voice steel. "Lunch is in the dining room."

George smiled and walked past him into the room and took a seat, Hamilton and Jefferson following him. He scooped up food onto his plate, "So tell me, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Jefferson, why is it you're hanging out here and not fighting in the war?"

"Confidential," Hamilton replied.

"Oh, right. Sorry. I forgot. No sharing intelligence with the enemy. Of course, how rude of me. So let me ask a different question. Why are we fighting this war?" Shit, this was going to be a long day. Hamilton got up and retrieved several bottles of different alcohol and some glasses.

"*I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man,*" Jefferson replied easily, taking a sip of the wine Hamilton had just poured him, Hamilton knew him so well. Wine was perfect.

"Are you saying you think me a tyrant?" George said in feigned surprise, hand to his chest, the other pouring himself some brandy.

"You'd fancy yourself a king if the rest of your friends weren't standing there with you," Hamilton said snidely.

"King George III, perhaps?" Jefferson remarked, sharing a look with Hamilton.

George looked between the two men suspiciously as if sensing there was more meaning behind those words. "It certainly has a nice ring to it. Perhaps if my associates were to disappear. Or maybe we'll just fancy all of us kings."

"I think your ego has gone to your head," Hamilton replied.

George scowled, "Either way, this war is absolutely unnecessary. All it will do is spill blood and change nothing."

"*The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants*," Jefferson said, taking another sip of his red wine.

"If you didn't come here to compromise, then why are you here?" Hamilton asked.

"Because I thought I should remind you of my love."

"Your love is only for those who see things the way you do," Jefferson spat.

"Is that such a bad thing?" George asked.

"Yes," Hamilton and Jefferson said immediately.

"I don't see how. The only reason you say that is because you have a different view and you hate me for not seeing it the way you do. I'd say that's a little hypocritical," George said, looking at his glass.

"Every other word you utter oppresses like eighty percent of the population," Hamilton said, anger rising.

"Most of the laws are against non-straight people. But that's not the point. As you said, this is a corrupted oligarchy. How can you be sure that they're my laws and not another's?"

"Bisexuals make up more of the population than homosexuals and heterosexuals combined," Jefferson said smoothly.

The King shrugged. "In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter. I didn't come here to discuss percents."

"My God, you're a moron," Jefferson muttered.

"How can you say it's not important? The people are the most important part of a nation." Hamilton asked, ready to punch this guy in the face.

"Bah," George said, switching tactics since what he was trying say obviously wasn't getting across, waving them off. "I've outlawed everything that isn't right. Other religions, other sexualities, other genders, basically everything I don't agree with. Gays and bi's and every other community waving their stupid little flags around are an extreme minority that it's only natural they go to Hell and be wiped off the face of the planet. I mean, it's not like you two are gay, so it just goes to prove my point."

Jefferson smirked at George, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Hamilton sprang from his chair, hands slamming down on the table as he stepped on top of it, his feet slamming into the wood as he walked across it to where Jefferson was sitting. George looked to Jefferson in confusion. Why was this small man walking across the table? Jefferson flashed George one of his famous grins right before Hamilton's fist wrapped itself in Jefferson's clothes, pulling him up out of his seat as Hamilton crashed his lips against Jefferson's. Jefferson was very tempted to turn this into a make out session just so that King George might explode where he sat.

Evidently, he didn't have to make that decision because Hamilton made it for him. Hamilton's kiss started out frustrated and to make a point, but it turned into him letting out all his rage. His fist tightened in Jefferson's shirt, his other hand roughly holding Jefferson's head against his. Jefferson was about ready to take control of the situation, and by that he meant pulling out Hamilton's legs, laying him across the table, and climbing onto of the table with him. But Hamilton pulled away before he could, stomping back across the table and sinking back into his chair, an angry scowl still plastered across his face. Jefferson lounged in his seat, swirling his wine glass, staring the king down while he took a deep drink.

The king sputtered, his entire face was red. Jefferson couldn't decide if it was from anger or shock. Either way, it was just as satisfying. Then a second later, much to Jefferson's surprise, the king composed himself, and what Jefferson could only describe as a knowing smirk spread across his face, looking evil from his perspective. He poured out his brandy on the floor and poured himself some of Jefferson's wine in a new glass, "So, how long has this been going on?" he asked, glancing between the two and taking a drink. His entire posture was suddenly regal like he'd been born and raised royalty and hadn't schemed his way to the top.

Jefferson looked to Hamilton who was staring at the king defiantly. "A couple weeks now," he answered.

The king tutted, "It seems much more intimate for only a couple of weeks."

"We were close before we formed a relationship," Hamilton said smoothly, taking a drink.

"No, you two hated each other."

"Maybe at first, but we grew close through the war."

"No," the king said, taking another delicate sip from his glass, "I'd have to say this relationship is over two hundred years old."

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