"So, what'll it be?"

I swear to god, if you say-

"I'll have whatever-"

You clamped your hand over his mouth and glared as he stifled his laughter.

He eventually gave you his order, and you didn't miss the way his face lit up when you tried to suppress your grin and added to the cashier, "...and make that two, please."

"So, what's with the sudden interest in me?"

You rolled your eyes, appraising your (his?) drink of choice. "What do you mean sudden? No, wait I mean interest-"

Your eyes widened as you swallowed to avoid sputtering everywhere before stumbling to correct your mistake, and then promptly gave up as your companion laughed. The sweet film of the drink coated your tongue and reminded you to hold it back from uttering something embarrassing.

"So you were always interested-"

"Stop that. Just a slip of the tongue."

"Freudian slip?" His infectious grin irritated you, and so did the fact that what he said felt like it was partially true.

"In your dreams."

"In them, you are, darli-"

"Oh my god."

Thomas leaned back, and you most definitely did not happen to admire the definition in his arms at that moment. His warm skin glowed in the afternoon light.

"You're awfully fond of interrupting me today, sweetheart. That eager to talk to me?"

"My bad. I probably won't talk ever again if you keep saying shit like that."

He raised his palms in mock surrender. "I mean, not that I was complaining!"

You sighed, but a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Thomas's eyes seemed to shine brighter as he noticed. "Drink before it gets cold, Jefferson."

"Of course, who am I to waste a beautiful lady's money?" He raised the cup to his lips.

"I don't know if Philip Schuyler would be flattered to hear you called him that." Thomas snorted, choking on his drink. You had the mercy to pointedly ignore how his drink dribbled down his chin through his still-smiling lips, and only handed him a napkin as he coughed.

"I'd pat your back or something, but you're over there, so... get well soon." He waved you off in amusement. After he recovered, he cleared his throat in false solemnity. "May he rest in peace."

"May he rest in piss instead. That guy was a specimen." Thomas laughed again. "That's negative, by the way."

"Man, that's twice I almost choked to death today. I guess that means you make some KILLER jokes, darlin'."

You smiled wryly. "That's great! So I just have to keep on making you laugh, then?"

He gasped in false hurt. You let out a genuine, clear giggle, and Thomas tried to ignore that tickling feeling in his chest. Even when you seemed to be laughing at him, it never really felt like you were. He wondered if it was intentional. He hoped it was. Thomas revelled in that feeling before pressing on.

As you continued chatting, your smiles got more regular and more real and Thomas Jefferson tried to push away how the sun seemed to shine brighter which each one, and how embarrassingly elated he felt. Unbeknownst to him, you were doing the same.

"Right, sorry I forgot to ask earlier, but Jemmy told me you were sick."

"Mhm." Your brain started fumbling for an excuse.

"What's up with that?"

You decided to go with the good old half-truth.  "Oh, not much. I was just feeling a little under the weather, I guess. Just needed a break."

Thomas smirked. "So, lovesick?"

"I'm not even going to say anything at this point."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. After a moment of hesitation, you continued.

"Just... adjusting to life like this was kind of stressful, and I guess that got to me."

"Adjusting?"

"Yeah, I mean, that happens to everyone, right? And I guess I also never had the most conventional life before this, so it's just... kind of jarring. A lot of people are overwhelmed by the responsibilities thrown on to them straight out of high school, but it's more the lack of them for me. Now that I don't have to worry about some things, I don't really know what to do with myself." You looked away, rambling. If it weren't for a fidgety twitch of your fingers, Thomas wouldn't have thought you were nervous in the slightest. "And the people, and... yeah."

"Huh... I see. " His voice was uncharacteristically thoughtful. "So, the Schuylers help you out then?"

"They've been doing that for years. They're the only reason I'm here."

"That's how you know Mr. Schuyler then?" Thomas wondered, and you nodded. "So you've been in the area for a good while, huh? How come I've never seen you around?"

"Well, I didn't really attend high school, so..."

"Homeschooled?" And Thomas gave you a confused smile as the corner of your mouth twitched in amusement, like you'd just come face to face with a joke only you were privy to.

"Something like that."

The frequent vagueness of your words frustrated him. He wanted to know more about you, and more sooner, but he knew enough to be able to sense that you weren't quite willing to reveal to him the details of your life.

"What about now?"

You fiddled with your napkin, your drink long-finished. "Hm?"

"You said you were having trouble adjusting. Are you feeling better now? Like... are you okay with everyone else?"

Are you okay with me?

Your lips parted a little in surprise. Situations like this always threw you in a loop. The look of concern in his earnest brown eyes, how he dropped the teasing you'd seen constantly just a while before... You couldn't detect a trace of anything but care in his expression. The wholeheartedness brought heat to your face, and gave you a strange feeling in your stomach, as well as hope that he truly did care, just a little bit.

Thomas Jefferson cares about what others think more and is softer than he'd like to admit.

It took a moment before you began to speak, but when you did, you smiled gently and gratefully. You looked nearly in a slight softened awe, and Thomas fought the urge to fluster and turn away.

"Yeah, everything is better in general. We're okay."

It seemed you weren't just talking about the others either.

-

When you left the café, the sky was visibly darker than when you entered. Your friend insisted on accompanying you to your dorm.

"I know better than to have questionable men follow me home, Jefferson." You teased.

"Oh, come on. Questionable? It's courtesy, darling. Who says chivalry is dead?"

You snorted. "It is, and you were an accomplice in its demise."

''Hey!"

-

As you made your way home, you and Thomas agreed to meet again the next Saturday, but as it turned out, you didn't have to wait a week to see each other. Just a couple of days later, you received a message.

Jemmy: Hey

Jemmy: I am coughing so hard rn

You: still sick? :((

Jemmy: yes

Jemmy: coughs again

You: do not rp with me

Jemmy: can you get me . meds

You: dont u have a roommate

Jemmy: Thomas put off a project that's due tmrw and he says he has to work on it

Jemmy: he also made me soup and brought me a heat pad

You: the bare minimum

Jemmy: what can you do its thomas

You: can he cook

Jemmy: it's edible

You: its the thought that counts

Jemmy: also he kept on bringing you up and id rather talk to you myself than hear him talk about you pls save me

You: LMAOAO ok gimme a sec what do u need

-

You: knock knock

Jemmy: why didnt you just knock

You: my hands r full

Jemmy: oh ok

Jemmy: wait then how r you typing

Through the door, you could hear Thomas groan faintly. "Fine... but you owe me!"

A few moments later, the door swung open and Thomas Jefferson loomed in the doorway, looking a little more disheveled than usual. The waistband of his sweatpants hung dangerously off of the side of his hip, and you had the sudden impulse to slide your fingers underneath it and snap it onto the smooth skin.

You watched with contained amusement as his expression morphed from one of displeasure, to surprise, before settling on something that could only be described as a sly sort of delight.

"Never mind, Jem. I owe you!"

He took your bags ceremoniously in one hand, ushered you in graciously, and closed the door behind you with the other.

"So, where does the obstacle course end and the house begin?"

Thomas, seemingly just having remembered that his shared dorm was a little less than presentable, didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. He shrugged and raked his hand through his hair.

"Look, Little Jemmy's been sick, and I've been too busy to clean up after him."

"You're the one who cleans?" You snorted.

"You don't have to look so surprised. I'll have you know, I make a fantastic house-husband."

"Congratulations," you responded dryly, "I'm sure someone out there would be thrilled to tolerate you one day."

"Oh ouch, honey."

The two of you weaved past haphazard piles of books. papers, a rather impressive pile of miscellaneous items littered on the dark, glossy hardwood of the floor, and eventually made your way to James Madison's room. He sniffled.

"It's about time."

You raised an eyebrow. "This is... kind of a lot worse than I expected."

Thomas sighed, and the bags he was carrying dropped to the floor by the doorway with a soft thud as he walked over to kindly pull his best friend out of his bed. The best friend in question cursed and swatted at him weakly from his cocoon of blankets.

"He always does this. He overworks and deteriorates and he doesn't do shit until he's on the brink of death. You gotta stop doing this, man."

"It's not just me, Hamilton does it too!"

"Yeah, and Hamilton goes into a caffeine-induced coma once every few weeks and is banned from every place that offers alcohol in the vicinity. Also, he wears an ugly green sweatshirt. You sure you wanna be like him?"

You burst out a laugh, and Thomas grinned back at you. "Yeah, I'm not sure Alex is a healthy role model, Jem. I've never seen him drink anything but coffee before. He probably pisses blood."

"I'm fine," he muttered hoarsely. "Put me back in bed."

You glanced at Thomas, and back at your unsuspecting friend. "How about you go sit on the couch instead?"

James, of course, refused, so you looked up at Thomas, who seemed to have the same idea as you. "Get'em, Jefferson."

He picked James up like a sack of potatoes and carried him off as he protested weakly, slung over his shoulder. "Come on, Jemmy. Let's go on an adventure."

As the two left, you got to work, pulling off all of his blankets and pillows into a pile. "Hey James, there anything unsavory stored in here you want to put away before I get started?"

"What kind of person do you think I am?" He called back, coughing, and you could hear Thomas snicker. "Careful, she might find your collection of Pride and Prejudice books."

"It's good, okay? That's a literary classic you're talking about."

"That doesn't mean you need like 40 copies, dumbass."

Eventually, through scouring every single cabinet and closet in the house, you found a clean change of sheets that seemed to fit James's bed. Before you could turn around to bring them back, you felt Thomas walk up behind you.

"What's up?" You threw casually, and he flinched a bit, at which you suppressed a snicker. "Damn, how'd you know I was there?"

"I sensed a malevolent presence."

He winked at you as you turned to leave, taking the bundle of haphazardly folded fabric from you before you could respond. "I'd let you exorcize me any day, sweetheart."

"I'd prefer the Ghostbusters get on this case instead."

The dim hallway was narrow, and as you slipped your way past Thomas, your arm brushed against his. Even through the soft fabric of your clothing, the warmth of his skin met yours. For just a fraction of a nervous, fluttering heartbeat, a thick tension hung unbearably in the air.

And then the world continued moving with you as a part of it, and you pretended to not notice his shining brown eyes seeking yours out as you made your way back to James' room.

-

Thomas watched as you busied yourself with the bed. "So... what are we doing again?"

You sighed. "I figured it would be better if we didn't leave him to fucking marinate in his own sweat, Jefferson. Also, you'd be surprised how big of an effect even just a little movement and change of environment have on people..."

Thomas looked on in amusement as you rambled on, and then suddenly remembered what you were doing, snapping out of it, and hoping he didn't notice. Alas, he did, and found it quite endearing.

"How about you go check on him? I'll handle things here."

He smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Assertive. I like that."

You huff in exasperation when you feel him leave, and then suck your breath right back in when seconds later, you hear his footsteps draw closer again.

"...what am I supposed to do?"

You resisted the urge to slam your head through the wall. "Idiot."

"..."

"...yeah I have no idea either, I'm not qualified for this."

Thomas snorted. "It goeth before the fall."

"Okay, Hamilton."

He didn't respond. When you turned back around to Thomas, you instantly felt bad about only just realizing how truly tired he looked. A pang of... something twisted inside of you, and when you next spoke, your voice was softer than normal. "It's probably not that much trouble. We can just bring him back and make him take his medicine, and he'll probably be fine... if you have something to work on, I'll take care of it, don't worry about it."

Thomas looked up at you, surprise and an unreadable warmth in his wondering eyes. "Thanks, darlin'." He murmured, and your eyes shifted to the side as your face grew uncomfortably warm.

"Don't sweat it," you replied as smoothly as possible, "I d-"

"-But I'm not gonna let you do all the work in MY house. What kind of gentleman would I be?"

This time it was your turn to be surprised. A competition of, was it courtesy? This was a little novel to you. You looked back to him fully once more, and you felt helpless at how much relief coursed through you when you saw that sly, lopsided grin, which you'd never thought you'd be glad to see, take its rightful place on his handsome face again. You had to stop thinking like this.

You brushed yourself off with a click of your tongue and arranged James' pillows one last time. Thomas's eyes bore into your back.
"Well?" You turned with a trace of a teasing smile. "Get on with it, Jefferson. I didn't sign up for babysitting duty."