writing this while on the plane hehe
-

You had no idea you'd fallen asleep until your eyes opened again blearily, the same even rhythmic breaths that had lulled you to sleep still ringing in your ears from beside you, your computer still balancing precariously on your lap.

Craning your head to the side to stretch your stiff neck, you caught a glimpse of your friend with his cheek smushed against the pillow. Your nose wrinkled as you looked at your saliva-stained pillowcase, and you brushed a strand of hair from his face.

As you continued working, you grew increasingly frustrated as you just couldn't seem to get anything down. With no one to bounce them off of, the millions of ideas that ran through your brain collected in droplets and started clogging up your head.

You eventually opted to type them out in point form instead, promising yourself you'd lay them out more cohesively, well, as cohesive as your work could get, when your partner woke up later on.

A soft knock resounded through the room. Alexander drooled. You kept typing, too engrossed to realize someone probably wanted to be let in.

After several seconds, the door opened slowly.

You didn't look up until the familiar figure started approaching you.

"Thomas." The softness of his name slipping through your lips stopped the tall man in his tracks before he could open his mouth to speak. "I'll be out in a second, okay?"

He hesitated briefly, his eyes flickering to the sleeping form of his nemesis beside you, before nodding and stepping back. The door gently swung closed again.

-

Thomas's eyes flickered up and down your frame as he noticed what you'd changed into. You huffed lightly as a smirk grew on his handsome face. The cushions of the couch he was leaning against sank under your weight as you sat and opened your laptop. The warm metal pressed against your thighs as you looked at him expectantly.

"Well? Did you need something?"

Thomas's smile only grew as he joined you on the couch. "You look good in my clothes, doll."

"You look good when your mouth is shut, Jefferson."

His Cheshire cat grin somehow became wider still. "I look good, don't I?"

You scoffed.

"So, watcha workin' on?"

"What you should probably be working on."

"That project still? Is Hamilton holding a gun to your head or something? We finished days ago!"

"Tell Burr I commend him for his hard work."

"Hey! What about me?"

You laughed, and it felt good. Thomas scooted closer, and when you seemed alright with it, he leaned to peer over your shoulder. You suppressed a slight shudder at his warmth.

"Innovative. I like it. I didn't know Washington took papers in point form."

"Shut up. My colleague's kind of out of commission right now. It's just... it's hard to get stuff in order, that's all."

"You might be better off without him. You're kind of losing the point of your whole paper in-"

"I know." You snapped. "The semantics, I fucking know-"

You breathed in shallowly when you saw the slight look of shock on his face. "I'm sorry about
that." You muttered hurriedly, your awkwardly reassuring touch a little tighter on his arm than you intended.

Thomas didn't seem to mind, his comforting hand coming up to cover yours. "Don't sweat it, darlin'. I'd be happy to help, if you need it."

Your eyes finally came up to meet his. "I couldn't possibly ask you to-"

"Yes you can. I'm just repayin' you for last time."

"I didn't do that with compensation in mind, Jefferson-"

"Then is it so hard to believe I'm doing the same?" He rolled his eyes, glimmering with mirth. Then he softened. "You're gonna burn out at this rate, sweetheart."

You looked away and worried your lip, and Thomas swooped in for the kill with his cocky, signature smile. "I can be your partner for now, darlin'. Or for forever, in more ways than one-"

You caved. "Oh shut it. Let's get on with it, then."

As the two of you conversed, you soon found yourself amazed at just how well the two of you synergized. You and Alex were think-tanks, but Thomas seemed to be able to bring your ideas together perfectly. He was a communicator, through and through, being able to bring your grandiose and fluttering theories to the realm of practicality with ease.

"I think you could lay off the adverbs here a little, honey. And that entire sentence is basically just synonyms."

"But what if-"

"I promise, darlin', Washington is more than competent enough to understand without the specifics."

Everything you wrote seemed sweeter when it passed through his lips. When you told him this, his eyes seemed to light up a bit before he settled back into an easy smile, throwing his head back with a laugh. "You're just realizing how brilliant your theories are, ma belle. I am simply a vessel."

A teasing expression flickered across your face. "You know some of these are Hamilton's ideas too, right?"

"Oh, shut up. He's smart sometimes, I'll give him that. Don't tell him I said that."

You granted Thomas with a brief, sugary peal of laughter. "I'll consider it."

Thomas rested his cheek against his palm as he watched you work. The softness of your profile gradually leaning closer to the screen, the way your leg bounced restlessly, caught up in the heat of your writing, the distracting drape of HIS hoodie around your shoulders. But as much as he enjoyed taking in the sight of your intelligent, focused eyes on your project, he'd prefer if they were on him instead.

"It's getting a little late, ain't it?" He mentioned as casually as possible.

"Huh? What time is it?"

"Around 7, doll."

"Mm. I guess." Your attention never left the screen, and soon what had endeared you to Thomas just minutes ago began to worry him. He recognized that almost crazed determination in your expression well.

"She has a tendency to overwork herself, Thomas. Look out for her, okay? Those two have been enabling each other all week." The ever-caring Eliza had told him this before she left for her class that afternoon, and he'd be damned if he let you turn out like Alexander Hamilton.

"Darlin'..."

"Just a bit more."

"You've been saying that for the past half an hour."

"I-" You had difficulty getting the words out. "I just need to finish."

"Y/N." He tried, this time managing to get you to lean back with a sigh. "You'll never end up stopping, half of these are just restatements at this point. Do you want to end up like your little friend next door?"

Digging your palms into your eyes, you had to admit that the words had been blurring in front of you. You had no idea if they were even coherent at this point.

"Can you-" You hesitated quietly, and Thomas's heart felt a little gooey at your unusually reticent display. Your attention finally wrenched itself from your work to him. "Can you help me with the conclusion? God, and I have to do the citations..." You cursed to yourself. He took this as his cue.

"You're in luck, lovely. Thomas Jefferson is here to help!"

"You-"

"Don't worry your pretty head about it, okay? Before you say anything, yes, I know you're not asking me to do anything, I want to do this completely out of my own volition, and yes, I am amazing and kind and chivalrous,"

You snorted, finally conceding your computer to Thomas."My knight in shining magenta armor."

Out of your tiredness, you rested your hand against your friend's shoulder, leaning against it, finding comfort in his warmth. With no particular affection per se, like how someone would lean on an old railing, but it still made Thomas grateful for the amount of self-control he had. He kept typing as if nothing had happened.

Until you attempted to get up from the couch, and his hand enclosed your wrist firmly, but still leaving you more than enough room to pull away if you pleased. His dark eyes remained fixated on the screen.

"What's up?"

His lips curled in a cheeky grin. "Stay for a bit, would'ja? An artist needs their muse."

You huffed, but returned to your original position as he asked. This time, your cheek came to rest on his shoulder as you peered at the screen, and his spine tingled at the vibrations of your groggy voice against his skin.

"I was just gonna get us a snack or something," You muttered, your eyes flickering. Thomas took a moment before responding.

"I'll take care of dinner."

"I don't want you to take care of everything, Thomas. It's not fair to leave it all to you."

Thomas regarded you from the corner of his vision with a fond, almost self-satisfied smile. "Well, I'm gonna do it anyway. Better get used to it, sweetheart."

He couldn't see, but he knew you rolled your eyes. "Still, let me repay you at some point, okay?"

"Oh yeah, with what?" You could hear the suggestive smirk in his voice. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, you shrugged. "Name your price, I guess."

"How about a nice, long, passionate k-"

"Die."

"Okay, okay." He laughed heartily. "Spend the rest of the day with me."

"...that's it?"

He let out an overdramatic, offended gasp. "What do you mean 'that's it'? You severely underestimate how much I value your esteemed company, chérie."

You snorted. "What would we even do?"

Thomas made a significant effort to refrain from making any more innuendos, and based on the narrowing of your eyes, you knew. "I dunno, watch a movie?"

"What movie?"

"Eager, are we? Let's cross that bridge when we get there, darlin'."

"What if I fall asleep?"

"When then you're lucky I make a fantastic pillow, sweets. I mean, you know firsthand-"

You smacked him on the shoulder. "Ow," he grinned.

"Finish the paper, Jefferson."

-

"There." He tapped the last key with a flourish, tipping his imaginary hat in a ceremonious bow.

"Took you long enough," you teased. "Thank you... though I do have to proofread this."

Thomas feigned hurt, placing a hand over his chest. "You don't trust me?"

You sent him a sort of wry, undecipherable smile that he was sure he'd wonder about lying in bed later that night, with his eyes fixed to the ceiling, his head pressed against his pillows, and his mind in your treacherous grasp. "Go get yourself some dinner."

"Sure, what do you want, sweetheart?"

"Whatever you're having."

"That's my line!"

"Choose or we both starve!"

"Mac n' cheese it is."

You could hear Thomas humming as he heated up your food, and resisted the urge to sneak a glimpse. You didn't need to anyway, the picture of his broad frame shaking from side to side and his hair bouncing with him in a stupid, endearing little dance that your head painted was more than en-

You pulled your brain from whatever cesspool it was falling into. Focus.

After a few minutes, your companion stepped into your line of few again, this time with two steaming bowls of pasta. You briefly had to refrain from choking on your own tongue.

His hair was up.

Thomas looked so frustratingly good all the time, and what was even more frustrating, was that he knew full well that he did. So instead of averting your gaze when he caught you, you stared harder.

"Take a picture, sweetheart. It'll last longer." He smiled cockily and sat back down, taking his place next to you, and handed you your food.

Is it just me, or does he kind of look like...

Nevermind.

"Thanks, 'fantastic househusband'. You changed your hair," you noted as nonchalantly as possible.

He leaned back leisurely. "Yup. Whaddya' think?"

"I think..." Your own gaze never even travelled to his hair, still fixated on his. Were you getting closer? "It's pretty cute." The corner of your mouth quirked upwards.

Thomas felt heat rush to his face in an uncharacteristically flustered moment. But he was nothing if not a good actor, so he plastered on his confident grin. "You sure you're just talking about the hair, doll?" He teased.

And you said nothing. The intense warmth of your eyes burned into the soft skin of his face, and Thomas could still feel it lingering after you simply offered him a neutral smile and turned away. As the two of you decided on what movie to watch and you finished up your essay, he couldn't keep his brain from wandering into the part of his consciousness plagued by the most deadly ailment of all: you.

You were dangerous, he decided finally. You were bright, terrifically witty, and frustratingly tempting. Your teasing 'chéri' didn't go a day without being dissected by his brain. It was frustrating.

Frustrating, because despite all the time you spent together, Thomas Jefferson could never quite get to where he wanted to be with you. He wanted to know you, you, you, as rough and raw around the edges and as vulnerable as you could be.

Frustrating, because despite bonding with you and delighting in your company, when he reflected on your interactions in a sort of dreamy haze afterwards, he could never tell when it was you that was speaking. Every word that fled your perfectly bowed lips seemed carefully thought out, and even when they weren't, it felt like they were still meticulously designed to be that way.

Frustrating, because you felt like you could disappear from his life at any moment, leaving him only to grasp at fading shards of undeniably pleasant memories and bits and pieces of your smile, like a fleeting, feverish dream. He wanted to know you just as you, so why wouldn't you let him in?

Thomas Jefferson loved the chase. And the challenges you had him endure were the most enticing yet.

For once, he considered just how much that reward meant to him, beyond just the satisfaction.

You laughed, exasperated, as he lifted a forkful of food silently to your mouth, and as he fed you, he knew what the two of you had was both too much and not enough for him. But that was what he was asking for, wasn't it? That alluring lack of clarity and dancing around something no one seemed to know the definition of was what drew him in so much in the first place, and would continue to draw him in.

He slung his arm around you loosely as you finally submitted your assignment, and he arched an eyebrow. "Not gonna run it past your partner first?"

You shrugged. "I would, but... I feel like he'd delete and insist on redoing everything when he finds out you wrote it."

"I didn't know you valued my work so much, darlin'."

"But you DO know- well, everyone knows how Hamilton is. I'd like to keep my friends well-rested and sane and my GPA secured before it's too late."

And there it was again. Hamilton. Hamilton this, Hamilton that. At this point, even Thomas had to admit the two of you just clicked well, as much as he wanted to rip his hair off at the thought.

But that didn't matter right now. Hamilton was dead asleep in the other room, and you seemed content with Thomas's arm around you.

"What are we watching?"

"Ladies' choice."

You huffed again. "I really don't watch movies. How am I supposed to choose?"

"Well, now's your chance to start. With the perfect movie buddy by your side, nonetheless."

With a roll of your eyes, you select a random one. "Eeni meeni miini moh, that one I guess."

From beside you, Thomas grinned. "Nice choice, sweetheart. Try not to cry."

-

"Nice choice, sweetheart. Try not to cry." You mocked as you leaned forward to pull a tissue from the box on the coffee table to hand to him.

He sniffled, not looking away from the screen. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

You snicker, but your actions don't match your tone well, as you awkwardly brushed the inky hair from his face. Thomas's heart stuttered a little when the pads of your finger touched the tender skin of his cheek and the fine grain of his stubble, and it stuttered even more when he heard your next words as you handed him another tissue, urging him to throw his soaked one into the trash can at the foot of the couch.

"Try to make this one last, sweetheart. I didn't sign up to be your servant."

His gleaming brown eyes gaped and his lips parted coyly to say something, and then-

"Get a room, you nasties!"

As you stifled your laughs, Thomas whipped around to stare at the youngest Schuyler sister, clad in a yellow loungewear set, rummaging through the stock you'd filled the pantry with just earlier that day.

"Where the fuck did you come from?"

-

"Don't forget your Tupperware, Jefferson."

"And don't forget to bring it back." Eliza sighed from beside you, having finally returned from her excursion.

"You got it, boss."

"You're never seeing those containers again."

Thomas grinned. "Thanks for the food, ladies. Y/N, call me." He winked exaggeratedly.

'We see each other every day."

"Not enough for me!" He called, and the door closed behind him. Eliza shot you a fond, teasing glance.

"It's nice to see you two are getting along well."

"No, it's not!" Peggy called from the couch. "You fuckers were hoggin' the couch!"

Your cheeks hurt from smiling as you brushed your teeth that night and got ready for bed. Feeling stupid for feeling so giddy, you told yourself it'd just give you something more entertaining to think of as you tried and failed to fall asleep properly that night, like every other night. And it was an interesting experience to have company, you thought, as Alex still remained very unconscious even when you shoved him to the side of the bed to make room for yourself.

Jeffersnot: gnight <33

You: night night ! let the bedbugs bite!

As you expected, sleep didn't come to you any easier than normal. But some of the thoughts that raced through your head were undeniably more pleasant than usual, and observing the pattern in your friend's sleepy breaths in a silent room, only accompanied by the slight buzzing of a fan, proved to be an effective distraction.

In his dorm, Thomas was far luckier than you. After his own thoughts made their way through his brain, sleep found him in his bed with heavy eyelids and high spirits, and he dreamed of a soft, teasing voice calling him sweetheart.

-
I need to make these shorter lololol