keeping these old header images because theyre funny as fuck

A few days later, all spent with a sore, uncomfortably wrapped arm, a tedious routine to take care of it, and a long, arduous string of investigations and analyses, with a LOT of string-pulling on Angelica's behalf, James Reynolds received a formal email detailing all of the charges that would be pressed against him if he dared take legal action against you, curated by Aaron Burr.

He also received several not-so-formal emails and messages full of detailed threats and insults from multiple burner accounts, curated by you and Alex.

The former contained charges and points of interest including multiple forms of assault, battery, multiple forms of harassment and abuse, extortion, fraud, and money laundering. To put it lightly, you'd found out where he got all that money from.

The latter contained phrases varying from "you rat-nosed worthless ugly ass bitch, not even your family loves you and nobody ever will for anything other than the money you didn't work for. You're not welcome anywhere on this earth. No one will miss you when we get you." to "January 2nd, 11:34 pm. Don't check under the leftmost blue curtain."

Along with countless daily, sometimes even minute-ly free subscription-based pamphlets and reminders that brought him to websites with endless chains of pop-ups that the two of you generously signed him up for using every single piece of his contact information that could be dug up.

A portion of you actually wanted to press those charges right then and there, but you collectively decided that holding those above his head made for a much more solid threat and insurance of Maria's and your safety, as well as a bountiful collection of potential blackmail material.

It was dirty and petty, and many would say you were doing too much.

But it was his fault for initiating this against a group of people who majored in dirty work, and all it took to crush any trace of doubt in your minds that this was the right thing to do was a look at your limp, injured arm and a reminder of the fear and panic on Maria Clement's face, knowing fully that that was far from the first time James had laid his hands on her.

Only a couple of days after that, an email came back submitting to your demands, and all of you, including Maria, went out for a celebratory dinner at a fancy restaurant, courtesy of the Schuyler sisters.

"He hired a lawyer?"

"Not everyone has friends in law to represent them, John. And I'm pretty sure he's in finances, he couldn't do jack shit himself."

"Of course he was a finance major," Thomas sniffed. His silk magenta button-up complimented his complexion beautifully, and a golden charm hung on a delicate chain glittered at the base of his throat, where the first button had been undone. You took a second to admire him from the corner of your eye. "Typical."

Alexander snarled. "What are you looking at, asshole? Care to share with the class what you're trying to imply?"

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true." His eyes flashed pointedly to where Hamilton had an arm around Maria's shoulders. "He's a scoundrel, and so it seems are you."

"Oh, it's like that? I'm not the one infamous in high school for being passed around more than the basketball at an NBA tournament-"

"Alexander, please." Burr nearly begged, pulling him back by the sleeve of his dress shirt when he tried to lunge across the table. Alex glared at him. Jefferson only smirked into his wine glass.

"Well, are you gonna respond or just leave me fucking hangin' like all those girls you pumped and dumped at William & Mary? Are an abuser and someone you don't like equal in your useless fucking brain?"

Ooooh.

"Control your dog, Mr. Burr. I can't say it's at my level to engage with someone whose fuckin' mouth is as unmanaged as his discipline."

If Thomas noticed your eyes narrow at him, he didn't show it.

Aaron Burr seemed to age exponentially by the second. "Jefferson, give it a rest-"

"Don't modulate the key then not debate with me, you arrogant, high-and-mighty piece of sh-"

This time, it was you who pulled your friend back, clamping your hand over his mouth, stifling your laughter.

"Okay, that's enough, 'Lex. My god- Ugh, you licked my hand!"

"That's right, 'Lex. Let h-"

"Thomas, shut up." James slapped a hand towel onto his face, effectively muffling him as you apologized profusely to a slightly concerned, amused Maria, and Angelica lectured him about how you couldn't even get through half of the dinner without squabbling like children.

Eventually, the main courses were served, your order of choice was placed in front of you, the potential brawl diffused, and things started circulating smoothly once again.

Well, as smooth as things could get with your group.

After some trial, error, and chuckles, Angelica, Lafayette, and Maria managed to coach you and Alexander on some of the basics of dining in formal settings, which was a little difficult for you with only one hand.

"How do you know all this fancy rich person etiquette?" You nudged her, and she smiled sweetly. Her red dress hugged her beautifully.

"My dad used to take me to dinner meetings and stuff all the time when my mom wasn't available." She make a fake gagging motion, and you laughed.

Alexander leaned over. "Rich girl, huh? Why don't you come with us and we'll take you out for some real fun?"

Maria threw her head back and let out a sort of disbelieving giggle. "And how would you know I haven't had any real fun before?"

Something in you found itself able to push an almost sleazy sort of grin to your face. "That's right, Alex. I'm Miss Clement is far more well-versed in these matters than we are. Wanna enlighten us on having a good time?"

This bit continued for a couple more seconds before all three of you laughed, and continued on conversing casually.

On the other side of the table, Thomas Jefferson was really regretting this seating arrangement.

He watched through gritted teeth the scene before him; you and Alex on either side of Maria, each turned slightly to face her, each with an arm over the back of her chair, each playing off the other to deliver perfectly flirtatious remarks.

With just enough thinly-veiled irony to keep things comfortable, particularly considering the events she'd just lived through.

It wasn't fair, he thought, his eyes flickering darkly at the display of coquettish smiles and coy laughter. You in those fancy clothes, hand-picked by Angelica, so out of reach. The way he almost wanted to apologize for the insults he'd thrown at Hamilton that made you glare at him. There was a speck of food on your plush upper lip, and he longed to wipe it off.

Thomas almost snapped his fork in half when Maria did just that.

"Don't you just look darling today."

"Oh, look who's talking."

Why did he feel like this?

He couldn't even spend his attention on someone else. That sort of tactic clearly proved to be relatively ineffective anyways, and Thomas would be damned if he tried to flirt with John Laurens.

Who, speaking of, looked just as miserable as he felt. But why was he...? Thomas followed his line of gaze to see the direct target being... Alexander. Huh. How had he never noticed that?

"You don't look so good." He turned to his left.

"Jemmy, those three are disgusting."

His friend shrugged. After a couple of seconds of chewing, he swallowed his food and addressed him again. "You were doing the same thing when we all had breakfast together. How do you think we felt?"

"That's different!" He set his glass down with a clunk, almost pouting at this point.

James sighed. "It's not a big deal, Thomas. I mean, it's obviously not serious in the slightest, and you can talk to her afterwards when Angelica makes us 'mingle' or something. Just... chill out, okay? Eat your food."

"You eat your food." He muttered.

He was already in a bad mood with the stressful week and because of that and dinner preparations, the lack of the weekly coffee 'date' the two of you usually had. James Madison prayed to every god that existed that the dinner would end soon.

-

The rest of the meal was spent in a relatively better mood. Thomas ate. He talked. He talked a lot. He snuck glances.

You snuck them too, sharp eyes neutrally lingering over him as he leaned back casually, chatting with animated movements.

He made sure to clink his glass bell-to-bell with yours when Alexander held a toast to the vanquishing of the pathetic creature that was James Reynolds and his legal team, and the red wine that stained his lips tasted sweeter after you smiled at him wryly.

He watched your expression when you tried Laf's dessert, and he told himself he'd have plenty of chances to make your eyes light up like that when he talked to you later on.

He told himself this, but when it came to the moment when you all finally stepped out into the night air and he tapped you on the shoulder to signal for you to meet him afterwards, he found himself at a relative loss for words.

Madison and Eliza escorted Maria home, whilst everyone else went their own separate ways. Alex and 'his goons,' as Peggy called them, were no doubt off to drink, but not before Alexander fist-bumped you behind Maria's back as the two of you escorted her arm-in-arm to one of the Schuylers' many cars.

After she kissed both of you on the cheek (thank god for smear-proof lipstick!) and your friend walked off with a self-satisfied grin, she shot Thomas a sort of condescending, amused smirk over her shoulder. He didn't have the time to ponder this, however. As soon as she stepped into the car, you gestured something to Angelica, and started heading towards him.

Oh, how beautiful you looked in the moonlight.

He grinned and offered you his arm, which you took with a wordless scoff. "Walk with me?"

-

"Where are we going."

"Hmm. Really good question, uh..." He cut himself off with an uncharacteristic laugh.

"Nice, Jefferson." You gave him a sort of odd look. "How much did you drink tonight?"

He laughed again. "Like 2 glasses. Why, sweetheart? You wanna go join your friends? I mean, I don't mind, as long as you dance with m-"

"Oh, be quiet, asshole. Just wondering." His giddy tone and uncharacteristically giggly demeanor told you he was just the slightest bit inebriated already.

He really is an absolute lightweight, huh?

"Well, if you don't have a destination in mind, why don't I take us somewhere?"

"Adventurous, I like that. Lead the way!"

The two of you made your way behind buildings, through obscure paths, trees, and eventually, came to find yourselves at a railing overlooking thousands of seats, flowing in neat rows down to a smooth platform at the center.

He wrapped an arm around your waist. You gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing. "Oh shit, the Delacorte? You sure know your way around, sweetheart."

"You mean to say you came with me when you didn't even know where I was taking you?"

"I trust you."

His eyes were so, so honest. You felt heat creep up your neck. "I'm... happy to hear that. But maybe you shouldn't trust others so easily." You mumbled, averting your gaze.

"You're not just 'others' to me, sugar."

You didn't know how to feel about that sentence.

Thomas found his eyes wandering through the massive, open space, and you found yours wandering to him.

He was absolute eye-candy in the moonlight.

Unfair, you thought, how just a simple pair of black dress pants made him look so appealing. His thick velvet coat was draped around your shoulders, the warmth of him and his cologne softly invading your senses.

"Here you are, my lady."

"Thank you, good sir, but I'm not cold in the slightest."

"Come on, take it! Don't be such a mood killer sugar, can't you feel the romance in the air tonight?

At some point during the course of the dinner and your stroll, 2 more of the buttons of his shirt had been undone, revealing the smooth skin of his chest. There was a mole right below his collarbone.

You had an urge to kiss it.

The silk of his button-up shimmered silver in the cool glow of the sky, and the gold of his jewelry looked sublime resting on his skin.

But nothing shone brighter than his smiling eyes when he talked about anything and everything to you as you walked.

Cheesy. When did you get so cheesy?

Probably when I started hanging around some of the corniest people on campus.

"Are we gonna get arrested for being here or something?"

"Only if we get caught."

You swung your legs as you perched on the edge of the stage.

Thomas sat beside you, launching into a story about his adventures as a young kid. You pulled his coat to cover both of your shoulders when a cold breeze picked up, shrugging when he gave you an amused look.

You tried imagining a little Thomas Jefferson, missing a tooth, with the fingerless gloves he was apparently so attached to for years, and his velcro shoes, because he told you on one of your coffee dates that he didn't learn how to tie his laces until he was in high school.

"Just do the bunny ears, they said. What bunny ears??? As if that explains anything."

The image made you smile. You cleared your throat quietly.

"Do you ever miss your family?"

Your words made him pause. "... Yeah, sometimes. But everyone does, right? I have a lot of siblings, you know that, but I call 'em regularly. Everyone in my family, especially my Ma. My Dad... we don't get along as well."

"Why is that?"

"Hmm. He doesn't approve of the 'lifestyle I lead' apparently. He wanted more, like a perfect kid. Not me."

You glanced at him incredulously. "You? Not the perfect son? Please."

Thomas snorted, amused. "Believe it or not, not everybody loves me, darlin'. But I mean, that doesn't matter, 's long as you do-"

"Oh, stop. Go on."

He laughed, and then suddenly turned to you with an earnest look in his eyes. Perhaps it was the alcohol loosening his tongue, but he seemed determined to get his next words across.

"I mean it, though. What you think matters a lot to me."

You stared at him.

"... Huh." To say that caught you off guard would've been an understatement.

"Anyways,"

You can't just say something like that and go right back to casual conversation!

You blinked away your bewilderment and listened.

"He wanted me to be like a traditional man, I guess. Stay in Virginia, marry early, do everything for the family, dress and act like an old conservative family man, shit like that."

"I cannot see you doing any of that."

"Right? So, I left for New York."

"And how did he react to that?"

"'Bout as well as you'd expect. The rest of my family was great, of course, but he went batshit crazy. Talking about how he raised his son to be a proper man, that I was a traitor, shit like that. He beat the shit outta me too."

"Actually?" Thomas could've almost laughed, had the nature of your sharp eyes not suddenly looked almost close to murderous.

Like in that video with Maria, he recalled.

"Hey, nothin' Thomas Jefferson couldn't handle. I'm here with you today, aren't I? I'm more than fine." He tried to lighten the mood, but underneath a furrowed brow and the shadow of your hair, your expression was vacant.

"Do you regret anything about it?" You murmured.

He paused to think. His hot breath grazed your cheek in the brisk night air, making you suppress a shiver. "...Not really. I'm happier here than I could ever have been. But... my siblings. I don't want them to live like that."

"You'll go back for them." Your question sounded more like a statement.

"Yeah. I have to. I-I feel a little guilty sometimes." He confessed. "I'm enjoying my life here, and they're still stuck back home."

"I'm sure they would want you to enjoy where you got yourself. You can enjoy things fully, knowing that what you're doing ensures that they'll be able to enjoy this too. But, I mean, don't get too caught up in work and stuff either, like- I don't even know what the fuck I'm saying."

His laugh made everything around you seem like it was in high-definition. "No, I get what you're sayin', sweetheart. But you seem pretty sure that I'll make it."

"Because I am sure."

He gripped your hand, eyes suddenly desperate. "I have to help them."

You met his wavering eyes with a slightly melancholic, but steely gaze. His other hand was soft on your injured one.

"You will."

You sounded confident, more confident than you'd ever sounded before. And for a moment, Thomas believed exactly that. He would. You could've said the sun was a pyramid filled with cheese and he would've believed you.

You let go of his hand. "I'm sorry," you continued quietly. "I can't imagine the amount of pressure that put- still puts you under."

He shrugged weakly. "Well, what can ya do?"

"Your dad is a fucking idiot to think that you're lacking as a son in any department. Your siblings couldn't have a better brother looking out for them. You'll do what you need to do."

His eyes widened. He recovered quickly.

"And look good while doing it?"

You sniffed. "Occasionally."

He laughed, and you smiled subtly. Before Thomas could find it in himself to formulate a quippy remark about missing your warmth, you hopped off of the tall step of the stage, landing on the pads of your feet lightly, bringing yourself eye-to-eye with him.

He froze when you took his face in your hands, and just looked at him.

For a second or two, your eyes bore into him, as if assessing what you saw. He tried to search your burning gaze for the grade you gave him, but your expression remained addictively unreadable.

He swallowed thickly. "What..." he breathed out, "...what are you doing..."

Any words he had prepared withered away in his throat when you brushed a thumb across his cheek, and before you could lose your nerve, leaned in, and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

The moment your lips brushed against his skin, he felt as though he erupted into flames, and when you pulled away after a couple of agonizing heartbeats, you left an inferno in your tracks.

"If you ever need anything," you said quietly. "If anything ever ails you, you can come to me."

All of the moonlight reflecting from the rows of seats seemed to culminate on your silhouette. Was he getting deja vu?

In the dreamy backdrop of the empty theatre, you were enchanting. You observed him for a silent moment again.

"Thank you," Thomas managed, as smooth as possible, and he swore a slight smirk decorated your shadowed face. With glittering eyes, you unceremoniously swiped the coat off of his shoulders, threw it on, and offered him your hand, as if you could pull him up from how far he'd fallen, as if you hadn't flipped the axis of his earth and left him reeling just seconds ago.

"Walk with me?"