Hush

Chapter 24: Don't Stop Me Now

A/N: Alexander may have not reached peak dumbass yet but I sure did while writing whatever the hell this chapter is

People will often say that love makes you do stupid things, which, true. If that weren't the case, I definitely wouldn't be in this situation right now. I had been on said situation before but reversed. It hadn't been my house we were sneaking into while siblings patrolled around, but John's. At least my window is on the first floor because tree climbing during a rainy day would possibly lend itself to some broken bones or at least a concussion.

And, yes, I know what you're thinking. I'm thinking about it too. No, it's not Popeye's new sandwich. I mean Lafayette. Which is a completely valid concern, I'm shitting my jeans about it as well. But, see. Okay, maybe I don't have a valid explanation other than it was raining and while that moment of dancing was quite nice, the rain eventually started feeling less like a gentle caress and more like small glass bullets attempting to pierce my skin and I needed to get out.

John, concerned as well but also already used to my constant bullshit at this point (bless his soul) followed with only a bit of complaining. Honestly, I'm mostly worried about the water pooling under us on my bedroom floor. And how I'll explain the sodden clothes. Will I throw John's clothes on the washer? No, what am I saying, of course I'm not. I'm being stupid but I haven't reached peak dumbassery yet. He'll just have to take his wet clothes and give me back the ones I'll probably give him eventually, not like anyone in the house keeps tracks of the clothes in my drawer, that'd be slightly creepy. Or maybe I should just leave John naked, that'd be nice. But, no, he must be cold, too. So after sharing a towel I kept in the closet and triple checking my door is most definitely locked I give him a pair of basketball shorts that have never seen a basketball court in their life and my second softest sweater. Sorry, John, the first softest one goes to me.

I check the lock just one more time before sitting down on my bed and patting the space next to me. Thankfully, John knows what most human nonverbal cues mean and follows suit.

"So," He starts, just a tad awkward. "This is where the great Alexander Hamilton sleeps,"

I chuckle. "Yup, lots of action going on here,"

"Maybe not the usual kind, but there's definitely a lot going on here," He says, gesturing to my stacks upon stacks of books, most of which are romance nowadays. No reason whatsoever, of course.

"Did you expect anything else?"

"Never."

I yawn and immediately mentally blame it on the rain. These types of days not only bring up forgotten memories but also a special sort of sleepiness, making it fairly easy to sleep off these days. I settle comfortably on John's chest and immediately become putty from one insignificant touch.

We sink into a nice silence, and I even begin to question if John fell asleep with his cheek on my hair. But my doubts are quickly answered when I feel his voice rumble softly through his throat.

"Alex,"

"Hmm?"

"Why haven't you kissed me again?"

I sit up as quickly as someone screams "FUCK" after hitting their pinkie toe again against that one damned corner.

"What?"

"I just– I thought we might have been there already? I mean we kissed that day, but then—"

"I wasn't sure if it was okay to kiss you!"

"What do you mean you weren't sure!? I thought I was being very damn obvious!"

I scoff. "Well, clearly not obvious enough! And why haven't you kissed me, huh? You could've just done that,"

"I wasn't sure if you were okay with me kissing you!"

"If I was okay with— motherfucker,"

I grab a handful of cloth from my second softest sweater and, for lack of better wording, I smash my lips against his with enough force to push him down to the bed (but not enough to knock out a tooth or something). He gasps, or perhaps it's a moan. Maybe a shriek. John makes a sound and wraps his sculpted arms against my neck, pulling me closer to him and I make no attempt to push back.

"How's that, uh?" I gasp once we separate, just a bit, after what might as well been a short millennium.

"I think," He pants. "That we should do that again. Just for good measure,"

I nod. "Good idea," And then we're kissing again.

His lips taste of popcorn and pretzels. It isn't sweet, it's the opposite and I want to lick every bit of salt out of his mouth. I press my tongue against his lip and he welcomes me with no protest. I want to make up for all the time we could've been kissing instead of dancing around each other. I never want to stop. I can't get enough.

Eventually, I settle on his hips and move my lips to his neck. He sighs almost contently and starts playing with my loose hair. Maybe Maria was onto something after all.

"You're so good," I mumble. "I like you so much. I just wanna love you all over. And on Monday, when you go to school, everyone will look at the bad boy and wonder who did that,"

"Alex," He laughs with a whine.

"That's right, pals. I'm dating the school's bad boy. And he ain't half bad at all,"

"You're ridiculous,"

"That's what you signed up for, gumdrop,"

He kisses me again, just a chaste peck. "I wouldn't have signed up for anything less, boyfriend"

"Now who's being ridiculous?"

"Still you, boo."