The Press (Whamilton)

Ch. 7

Their food came. Their drinks came. They ate. They drank. They finished. Press and others cleared out, and eventually the only people left were Hamilton, Washington, and Henry Knox. Alexander walked outside to the president's car. He tapped on the window. Washington stepped out of the limo and smiled at Hamilton. "Hey," He sighed, "I'm sorry about Jefferson tonight." Alex sighed.

"It's fine," He muttered, "In all honesty he's done worse." Washington frowned and looked around. His guards were in the car, so there was no way they would be able to hear them. He made sure to lower his voice.

George whispered, "About holding your hand earlier... I don't really know what to say." Alex's cheeks heated up and his eyes stayed glued to the ground. George continued, "I won't do it again if it bothered you or anything like that."

"It didn't." Alex blurted, "You're lucky press didn't see though. They'd have your head on a stick for it."

Washington's eyes suddenly went wide and he face palmed. "Shit!" He groaned, "God I wasn't even thinking if anybody was watching! Fuck, okay, um, we- What do we do? What do we say?"

Alex put his hands on the president's shoulders. "Mr.president... It'll be fine. We'll survive. Deep breaths, now, they won't fret on it for long. I'm sure they're more worried about me wearing makeup, Jefferson saying cunt, and Ms.Lewis wearing a short red dress than you holding my hand." Washington sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I get so nervous," He admitted, "I care too much about everybody else's opinions..." Alex sighed and stepped closer.

"Sir, your excellency, I know it means nothing, but I think you're a wonderful person. An amazing leader for the country." Alex whispered, looking up at him. Washington smiled and took his hand for the second time that night.

He whispered back, "Thank you, Alexander. You should head home, it's getting late."

John was floating behind Alex, petting his hair. "Yeah, he has a point. Tell him he's sexy and go home to sleep, babe." John mumbled. Hamilton rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Alright. I'll go home." Alexander pulled his hand away and glanced at his car. Quickly, he pecked George's cheek and then rushed off to his car. Washington held a hand to his own cheek, giggling to himself as Alexander looked back at him, his face as red as a tomato. Hamilton got into his car, and George did the same. John phased into the front seat.

John asked once they were on the highway, "So what about Eliza? You with her?"

"I don't know."

"... Well you just kissed the president's cheek. But you said I love you to Eliza. So which one is it?"

"... I love George... Oh God I'm in love with the president. But... But I do care about Eliza."

John shrugged, "Well you gotta choose. And you love me right?"

Alex nodded. "Of course I am," He said, "I think about you every single day, Laurens." John nodded a little before finally letting the silence settle over them. It was so cold in the car, and they both knew it was John's fault. But neither of them were going to say a word about it, because the quiet was there, falling over them like a blanket of snow. Comforting and gentle. They were in traffic once again. John put his hand over Alexander's.

Alex wanted to intertwine their fingers, but all that would happen would be that Alexander's hand would go right through John's. So the most they could do was sit quietly, John's hand floating just a little bit above Alexander's.

Laurens, after an hour of traffic, faded off into the night. Hamilton pulled his hand away and turned the heat up higher, trying to warm up.