(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

Anonymous asked
For greenhouses: I was reading through the themes tag and got to the fill about Hamilton being jealous when George was away so what about what happens when he comes back from however many weeks he was gone?

Hamilton had, of course, not been fretting that his husband was late. Travel was very difficult; he could have been held back for further assistance; he could have required additional acceptance of other awards; he could been required to make another speech (he had prepared his husband several generic speeches for several possible occasions that he could modify as he saw fit; he was not fretting that he had written too few speeches for him). he was not fretting. he did not fret about other people.

so what if he had packed himself a lunch and several books to keep himself interested near the manor entrance that day and the day following. these were reasonable things for a man to do. he preferred to be outside. the library was stuffy.

He was lucky, though, to be in between books as he heard the sounds of horses and carriages. The road was attended to but still rough, and he knew the sounds of stones in wheels. He stood up and stuffed the remaining piece of cheese in his mouth, brushing crumbs off his jacket. Then he stood, and folded his hands behind his back, and forced his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

Their carriage - a sturdy, resolute thing painted with the thistle - came into view. Hamilton forced himself to be still as it rolled closer to the estate entranceway. He would not run into the street and throw himself into the carriage. Ungentlemanly.

The first sight of Washington through the carriage window made Hamilton forget himself, and his face split into a wide, radiant smile. Washington looked had not yet noticed him, likely deep in his thoughts. This allowed Hamilton the opportunity to wrestle his joy, which could only be described in ridiculous adjectives, into something more sensible.

Then Washington looked out the window and saw him, and then rapped loudly on the front of the carriage. The coachman obediently stopped. Washington reached down and opened the door, and stepped into the bright day.

“Sir,” Hamilton said, stiffly, becuase he knew that if he began, he would not be able to stop.

“Hello, Alexander,” Washington said. He somehow managed to be immaculate, even when travel-worn, and without asking wrapped his arms around Hamilton and squeezed him very tightly, and kissed the top of his head twice. Hamilton pretended, of course, that it did not feel so good, warm and comforting and wonderful, to be held in such a manner. But he did unfold his hands from his back and wrap them around Washington’s broad waist, which he had not forgotten the feel of.

“Has the travel been easy enough?” he asked, into Washington’s neckcloth.

“Easy enough,” Washington answered into his hair. “I hope you have not been worried that i was late. I was drawn into an additional event.”

“Of course not,” Hamilton said, which was unrelated to the fact that he squeezed his husband very tightly, and quite seriously about not letting him go. The downside would be that it would be quite difficult to read.

“You know I do not like to worry you,” Washington said, and he let go of Hamilton only briefly enough to shift them so they could kiss.

“You do not need to worry about such a thing,” Hamilton said, after he had finished kissing Washington. He had required several more kisses. “I worry about no one but myself.”

“Of course,” said Washington, “How could I have thought otherwise?”

“How indeed.”