(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

elysianmars asked
J for greenhouses Whamilton :)

He was too old and too tired for war, but he had been called. And Hamilton had, of course, come with him, because Hamilton was a soldier before anything else, and despite Washington’s choking fear and the murder dreams, he could not be denied.

if you do not allow me to serve with you, sir, i will serve away from you, hamilton had snarled. washington knew it to be the truth, and hamilton became the battlion commander he longed to be. him and angelica schuyler-church and peggy schuyler-van rensselaer would talk late until the night, talking strategies. they spend weeks away and washington’s chest hurt from it. he tries to be the great unifier, the marble hero he knows he is know as, but he needs hamilton to patch the cracks in his foundation.

one day a battered, bloody scout drops a report on his desk. he reads, and he puts it down. heavy casualties in a loss. the seventh… hamilton’s soldiers. no, he thought, and the war dropped from his mind. no, no, no no. hadn’t it been enough? hadn’t the war taken his dreams and his youth? and now—?

“Take me to the camp,” he said the courier, who nodded a surprised nod. They bolted. Washington ignored the bows and requests, and went for the commander’s tent immediately. He did not knock, just stepped inside.

His husband, bloody and tired and thin, but together. Had all his toes and fingers. Had cut his hair and had not shaved.

“Sir!” Hamilton said, puzzled at first and then angry, “The loss we just took –”

“Please, Alexander,” Washington pleaded, and held his husband long in his arms, felt the warmth of the man’s grimy face in his neck. Hamilton quieted, and gripped Washington tightly, and did not speak.