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“What is the meaning of this? Mr. Burr, get a medic for the General!” Was the first thing that reached Hamilton’s ears. He almost cringed as he registered the pure rage in Washington’s voice. Burr shot Hamilton a look that told him he was in trouble, and left with a simple, “Yes, sir.”
Hamilton waited anxiously for Washington to finish talking with General Lee, “Lee, you will never agree with me, but believe me, these young men don’t speak for me. Thank you for your service.”
As Lee was rushed to the medic tent, Washington turned on Hamilton, “Hamilton,”
“Sir!” Was his immediate response, he winced when he heard how loud he was speaking.
“Meet me inside,” Washington growled. He turned and began making his way to his tent. “Son--” Washington begins with a stern edge in his voice.
“Don’t call me son.” Hamilton interjected.
The General looked over his shoulder, his cool gaze almost as bad as if he were glaring; before continuing. “This war is hard enough without infighting,”
Hamilton, miffed with how Washington could blame him when Lee was at fault, let his jaw drop in shock before clearing his throat and saying, “Lee called you out, we called his bluff.”
Instead of agreeing with him, as he thought Washington would, he sighed and said, “You solve nothing, you aggravate our allies to the south.”
Hamilton clenched his jaw and spit out, “You’re absolutely right, John should have shot him in the mouth; that would’ve shut him up.”
Washington gave him a severe look that shut him up immediately, “Son.”
“I’m not your son.” Hamilton ground out, trying to keep himself together.
Washington’s voice grew louder, “Watch your tone. I am not a maiden in need of defending, I am grown.”
Hamilton walked towards Washington, gesturing wildly, “Charles Lee, Thomas Conway-” He grit out, “These men take your name and they rake it through the mud.”
Just as loud as before, Washington said, “My name’s been through a lot, I can take it.”
Slowly getting more frustrated, he walked away from Washington to the other side of the tent before retaliating with, “Well, I don’t have your name. I don’t have you titles, I don’t have your land. But, if you-”
He is cut off by Washington shaking his head, “No,” He says firmly.
Hamilton continues before Washington could go on, “If you gave me command of a battalion, a group of men to lead, I could fly above my station after the war.”
Washington’s eyes darkened the more Hamilton talked, “Or you could die, and we need you alive!”
Hamilton made his way back over to where Washington was standing, one hand in his hair, “I’m more than willing to die.”
“Your wife needs you alive, son, I need you alive,” Washington spoke with such thinly withheld anger.
Hamilton was not as good as keeping his emotions in check, he stalked towards Washington until they were inches apart. His thin wall of self restraint broke as he shouted, “Call me son one more time!”
Washington’s face fell to a stone cold expression, all previous emotion erased, “Go home, Alexander. That’s an order from your commander.”
As Hamilton realized what Washington had just said, his whole body slumped and he quietly said, “Sir.”
Washington turned and strode away, not looking back as he said, “Go home.”
Hamilton stood up straighter and said, “With all due respect, sir, I’m not going home.” Washington looked back at Alexander in disbelief.
“Excuse me?”
Alexander cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began, “I am not going home. I’m your right hand man. Am I not?”
“Watch your tone, son.” Washington sighed as he continued, “You are, but you need to keep in line. Do not try to defend me, I don’t know if you have realized but I can be quite intimidating.” He said as he sat down on his cot heavily.
“Ah, yes sir. I have noticed. It can be quite distracting at times.” Hamilton froze as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He looked anywhere but Washington, but when his eyes did land on his commander’s, he saw a small smirk upon his lips. “I, uh, didn’t mean to reference such a vulgar… activity.” He cringed as he kept talking, he knew he was just making matters worse. Washington didn't seem phased, smirk only getting wider.
“I’m going to check on General Lee. You’re dismissed, Hamilton.” Washington brushed past him and left the tent. Alexander could tell it was on purpose.
. . .
“Sir, may I come in? I need to talk to you.” Hamilton called through the thick material of the tent.
“Come in, my boy.” Washington called back from inside. Hamilton let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding and entered. Washington was sitting at his makeshift desk, paper and ink everywhere. When nothing was said immediately Washington took it upon himself to ask, “has something been bothering you?” When he still didn't get an answer, he looked up to see Hamilton staring at him. He set down the paper he had been reading through, “Alexander.” It was as if Hamilton had been in a trance. He huffed out a laugh as he saw Hamilton try to compose himself. He asked his original question once more, "Has something been bothering you, son?" This time, he was graced with an answer.
"Merely an unimportant question, sir." He waited before continuing, "You never actually liked General Lee, did you?" The question made Washington raise his eyebrows.
"What makes you think that?" Washington questioned, leaning back in his chair more and spreading his legs farther when more space was given.
Alexander wasn't staring at Washington's thighs. He wasn't, "Just a hunch, sir," He replied and looked back up to see Washington was watching him the entire time. The smirk was back, full-force. He wasn't even trying to hide it now. "It wasn't exactly a secret that he was a complete--"
"Hamilton." Washington cut him off before sighing and pulling himself out of his chair, "If I didn't think he was capable, I wouldn't have appointed him."
"He isn't here now, sir, you can drop the niceties." Hamilton regretted that sentence the second it came out of his mouth.
He watched closely with bated breath as Washington walked closer to him, "I guess you're correct, son, you can read people quite well, I take it?"
Hamilton swallowed and proceeded, "You could say that."
Washington gave him a curious look and said, "Read me."
"Excuse me, sir?" Hamilton asked in shock.
"Read me." Washington says simply and sat on the edge of his cluttered desk. Hamilton definitely wasn't looking at how his pants stretched perfectly over his thighs.
"Well, to begin," Washington's gaze was so heavy on him. His mouth was dry as he attempted to swallow down his rising feelings-- they weren't exactly professional, "You use your stature and charisma to cover the fact you're terrified of losing this war. You don't like being alone, you get overwhelmed quite easily. But you cover that up with good spirit." Over the course of Hamilton saying this, Washington clenched his jaw and tried his best to stay composed. He was correct, and Hamilton knew it. "I hope I haven't managed to make you uncomfortable, sir."
Washington laughed and said, "I've been through a lot, I can take it." Hamilton was struck with remembrance of their conversation from the previous day. Alexander shifts uncomfortably and says, "I don't know how well you can read people, but what is your opinion of me?"
Washington sits up straighter before responding, "I see a smart, young, determined, stubborn loudmouth of a man." At Hamilton's slightly hurt expression, he amended by saying, "now don't think those are bad qualities. I find them quite endearing." Washington feels a sense of pride when he sees Alexander is definitely blushing. Alexander notices too, looking down to try to hide his face behind the hair that had fallen out of his hair ribbon.
"That's very kind of you. Is that all? That was kind of weak." He really needs to work on his brain-to-mouth filter. Washington doesn't seem phased as he reaches out to tuck the fallen bits of hair behind Hamilton's ear.
He responds with, "You're also quite attractive. You must know that, if your nightly activities are anything to go by."
Alexander snaps his head up and rushes to say, "Sir! I have done no such things!"
Washington's signature smirk is back, always appearing at his expense. "There's no reason to get so defensive, I too am a man. I know the less than holy desires." He's started petting Hamilton's hair, slowly bringing their heads closer together. When they were less than an inch apart, Washington whispered, "But, unlike you, I have much experience with other men."
Hamilton felt a shiver run down his back at his commander's words. When he was about to tip his head and lean in the rest of the way, he was met by more words that made him snap his eyes open in an instant, "But you must learn your place and patience before any man would sleep with you. As for me, I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable by forcing myself onto you. I respect your obvious disinterest and I hope this doesn't negatively affect our work relationship. After all, you are my right hand man. Are you not?"
His damn smirk was still in place as Alexander nodded stiffly, "I am, sir. As for the things I must learn, don't think I won't try. You said it yourself, I'm a determined pain in the ass," He paused and then added, "you seem busy, I'll take my leave now. Have a good night, sir." Hamilton made his way out of the tent, thoroughly confused and happier than when he had entered.
. . .
The next morning, a fellow soldier tapped Hamilton on the shoulder, relaying the message to go to Washington's tent as soon he heard the message. Hamilton thanked the soldier and put down the paper he had been dissecting since early morning. He hauled himself off the ground, brushed off his breeches, and slowly began walking to Washington's tent. He took the time to stop and chat with the people standing around before ever so slowly calling through the tent fabric, "Sir, may I come in?"
The answer came immediately, "Yes, come here." Alexander did as he was told and entered. He was surprised to find Washington laying on his cot with his eyes closed instead of at his desk.
"Sir? You wanted to see me…" He trailed off as he made his way farther into the tent, glancing around at the mess that seemed to have gotten bigger since he was last here. He heard
Washington's exhale and snapped his eyes to the seemingly relaxed figure.
"Yes, Hamilton, I believe we need to talk about your short attention span." Washington said seriously, watching him out of the corner of his eye.
Hamilton blinked once and slowly began speaking, "Sir, is that really a problem? I believe my attention span is the perfect length."
"Are you sure we're discussing your attention span now?" Washington questioned, the beginning of a smirk visible.
Hamilton flushed and protested, "Sir!"
He could hear Washington laugh slightly before sitting up and stretching. His commander was shirtless. Of course he wasn't wearing a shirt, it was early morning. Hamilton definitely was not looking at his pecs. Not at all. Except he was , and Washington knew it. He was putting on a sort of one-sided show. He would flex and walk way too close to Alexander for it to be professional. By the time Washington had finished dressing, Hamilton was more focused on keeping his breathing steady than the original problem.
Washington had spoken, something about strategy. Or was it something else? He really had to get himself together, instead of asking Washington to repeat himself, he said, "Yes, sir."
"I didn't think you would agree so easily, Alexander." Washington turned to face him with a slightly flirtatious smile on his face.
Hamilton sucked in a deep breath before shakily speaking, "I'll be going, if that's all, Sir," he made his out of the tent before Washington could do anything else that would make him question his self control.