Falling Through Time: Basking in Firelight: Book 2

Friends and Enemies

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Warnings: Blood, gore, death, ghost hauntings, mentions of sex, fighting, battle, cussing, horrible grammar because I wrote this at 1 a.m.

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Jefferson had just finished in his garden for the day and was poking a Hamilton who was reading on the couch. Hamilton was getting ready to do something about it, whether it was throwing something or pinning him to the floor and kissing him fiercely, he couldn't decide. Just as he was about to decide, they heard a window break. Now, most people would probably invesitage before assuming battle, but Jefferson and Hamilton were a little too used to conflict. They looked at each other and ran for where they had stashed their walking armories, Jefferson really needed to think of a name for them, which just happened to be at the top of the stairs and in their bedroom.

That meant getting through whoever who was in the house. They stuck to the shadows at best they could, taking routes no one would bother thinking of. Jefferson boosted Hamilton up to a balcony railing and Hamilton helped pulled Jefferson up. Second floor without incident, now they just needed to make it down a couple hallways and through a door. They could do it.

They took steps when a soldier walked out of a room, brandishing a rifle. He saw them and aimed. Too slow, Jefferson slid and hit the gun up toward the ceiling, the soldier fired, sending bullets into the roof.

"You motherfucker!" Jefferson yelled, "You put holes in my ceiling!" Jefferson yanked the gun away and smacked him with it before spinning and shooting another soldier who had emerged from the next room, hearing shots. Hamilton ran forward and snatched up the gun and taking the extra seconds to strip all the ammo as well. He and Jefferson moved down the hallway, checking every room they passed so a soldier wouldn't come out and shoot them in the backs. They downed several more soldiers before they finally made it to their room and pulled on their armor. Jefferson had redyed them to the darkest black on the face of the earth.

"Are we still under the blades only rule since that guard just put bullets in your ceiling?" Hamilton asked.

"Fuck it," Jefferson said, "It's time to remodel anyway,"  Jefferson grabbed his cane, slipping it into a custom pocket of his coat.

Hamilton grinned and picked up his favorite rifle from the closet, strapping various other weapons to his back. He was ready to slaughter whoever interrupted his thoughts of pinning Jefferson to the floor and stripping him of all his clothes in the most painfully slow way he could so Jefferson would pay for bothering him while he was reading. He looked over at Jefferson to see what he had grabbed.

"Only two pistols?" Hamilton asked.

Jefferson grinned wickedly, racking and holding up the twin silver guns, the light glinting off the metal. He placed them in the drop down rig that attached them to his thighs. "Darling, you forget, I specialized these suits to our own tastes," He said, throwing open his long coat so Hamilton could see the set up he had. He still only had two pistols, but he had customized and magazine reloading system to where he could reload less than a second flat, no mechanisms that would jam, just proper placement and skill.

"Holy mother of Jesus Christ," Hamilton breathed as drew his two pistols, twirled them in his hands, readying his reflexes for the fight that was about to come. "I could take you right here, right now," Hamilton said.

Jefferson smirked his famous smirk and batted his eyelashes, resting one of his pistols against his shoulder and the other one against his hip, knowing full well what that cocky position would do to Hamilton. "Just don't picture slowly peeling off every single one of these layers, hunting for every weapon tucked away and pulling them out with your teeth," Jefferson purred.