Mr Jefferson is Coming Home (Jamilton)

Chapter 2

Author's note:

Enjoy Alex's introduction <3

***

Alex was nervous that morning. It was only 11 a.m. and he had already received a note from Washington, who'd asked him to come over to meet the new Secretary of State. He knew Jefferson of course – everyone knew him – but he'd never actually talked with the guy. And he wasn't really interested in doing so. But since the President asked, and Eliza was particularly beautiful that day, he decided to take his wife to the Washingtons' for dinner and behave nicely for once. Or, at least, that were his intentions before meeting the worst motherfucker ever. That evening, Alexander found himself arguing with Jefferson over every single topic. Every. Single. One. After the first five minutes of discussion, Eliza shot a quick desperate glance at her husband and, knowing it would be a long night, went to chat with Martha Washington.

"We need the banks," Alex was explaining to Burr after a couple of drinks, "in order to make the market competitive –

"What a nonsense!" Jefferson's voice abruptly interrupted his speech.

Alexander turned towards him, seeing red already. Why was his voice so hideous to his ears? His sight had disgusted Alex from the very first moment, and it seemed like the feeling was widely shared by Jefferson too.

"Excuse me?" he spat, shooting a daring look to the taller man.

Jefferson, who'd been talking and laughing until that moment with some other members of the cabinet – James Madison among them – suddenly raised an arrogant eyebrow at Alexander's countenance. He looked down on him with his high-and-mighty gaze and sipped his red wine before answering.

"Well, the query is very simple, Mr Hamilton," he put on an arrogant smile, "why, in God's name, should Virginians pay for your taxes? Our debs are already paid, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, it's very simple to have your debts paid when you don't have to pay for labour, right Jefferson?" Alex almost shouted the words, completely out of himself. He'd just realized that he was talking with a slave-owner, and that simple thought made him shake with rage. He'd grown up in a small island in the Caribbean, where slaves were killed and sold like animals – no, they were actually treated even worse than animals. It was inhumane. He'd always hated people like Jefferson. In that moment, Alex couldn't help but think of John – he'd died while trying to free black slaves and make them join the revolution.

Fortunately, Burr decided to try and calm them down and so Alexander was free to redirect all his fury towards him for the next several minutes, while Jefferson was dragged away by Madison.

"That cocky bastard," Alexander growled to Burr, who muttered in agreement – well, he couldn't expect more than that from Burr, he'd never really expressed his opinion, "I can't believe I'll have to deal with him for the next four years."

"Maybe if you stopped yelling for a while, you would find something more beyond the surface," Burr cast him his wise-old-man look that always made Alexander wonder how old was that man really.

"I don't need this shit Burr," he chuckled when his friend rolled his eyes in exasperation, "I'm a politician, Aaron, not a nun – I don't fucking care to unveil Jefferson's hidden side. He's a dumb southern slave owner who has done nothing to help our revolution except for writing a declaration he doesn't even believe in."

Burr gave up and went back to Theodosia, while Alexander grabbed a glass of wine and pretended to listen to John Adams while taking a better look at Jefferson, now that he was merrily blabbering with Madison. He was not ugly – in fact, he was quite charming, with his puffy hair that wiggled with his head's every movement and his broad shoulders. Damn it, the man was the devil himself, of course he had to be tempting! Alexander also noticed that, now that he was alone with Madison, his dark brown eyes seemed softer and his smile had grown more relaxed and wide on his face, making him look even more beautiful. Fuck.

"And that's why you should never trust an Indian," Adams ended his apparently-super-funny story and a few people laughed, while others looked visibly embarrassed at the vice president.

"You're wrong and your story sucked," Alexander dropped his comment nonchalantly and distanced himself from Adams's nonsense to join his lovely wife once more.

On their way home, Eliza happily chatted about Martha's invitation for next week's picnic at her cousin's country house, and Alexander let her cheerful voice calm his anger, listening to his wife talking about sandwiches, snacks and cakes.

That night, he couldn't sleep. He started thinking about his dear John again, about how things would have been different if he hadn't died on that battlefield. Eventually, as soon as the sun rose, he had to go out in the garden to breathe – and he cried all the tears that his beloved John so deserved.

***

Thomas was bewildered. He wasn't expecting Hamilton to be such a pain in the ass. His friend Lafayette had always told him marvellous things about that guy, so he had great expectations – perhaps too great for that angry little man that had barked at him the whole night. One thing was true though: he was quite handsome. He was slightly shorter than Thomas, thin but sturdy; his black hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and his eyes were really one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen – intelligent and passionate at the same time, blue irises that lightened slightly around the pupils and that seemed to melt and burn according to Hamilton's every fit of passion. That night, while pretending he wasn't looking, Thomas had caught Hamilton studying his shape attentively with his piercing look. He had to admit he'd remained speechless when they'd finally shook their hands and looked each other in the eyes; but the spell had only lasted half a second – when Hamilton had opened his mouth, Thomas admiration had suddenly vanished into thin air. How dared he talk to him like that? Spitting all that nonsense about the banks and then accusing him of slavery!

"Well, he's never gonna have those damned banks anyway," Thomas resolved, "not over my dead body."

***

Notes: when I think of them, I obviously think of Lin and Daveed (you'll sense my love for him in every description of Thomas aaaaaargh); but I'll describe Alexander's eyes as blue, because - according to his contemporaries - they were actually something. A Federalist called Fisher Ames once wrote that Alexander's eyes were "of a deep azure, eminently beautiful", and similar comments on his violet-blue eyes had been made by others. Anyway, I love Lin but Hamilton was really hot with his red Scottish hair and those eyes. GOSH.

(https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/journal-of-american-studies/article/erotic-charisma-of-alexander-hamilton/BC911E604C376A4F3CCBFB6F3731B3A0)