The Little Lion

Moonlight

Laurens fell asleep early, dozing in Hamilton's arms by midnight. There was such grace in that sleeping face. His body was sprawled out on the bed, Hamilton occupied only a tenth of it, but John still managed to lie with his head and an arm slung across him. It was a battle to get out of this hold. Hamilton tried his best to avoid stirring his sleeping boyfriend - (?) he guessed he could call him that at this point - from his slumber. He moved around him and slid off the bed in a few delicate movements. Laurens' breath only stilled for a second, and when he realised that he'd been successful in his escape, Hamilton let out an almost inaudible sigh.

Before leaving the room, he bent down and fumbled about in the dark, searching for his bag, which he'd left somewhere at the bedside. Once he found it, he grabbed his laptop and then headed in the direction of the kitchen, picking his steps carefully in the pitch black. Out in the kitchen, the moonlight poured in through the curtain-less windows. Hamilton placed his laptop on the marble table, and then stepped around it, making his way to the window. He had written Laurens. Written him well. It was enough, he knew. But there was still something inside him that knew the words he could write for Laurens would never stop flowing, if he let them. There was too much in his heart to contain. Even inside a book that extensively detailed a lot of it.

He stood in front of the window, watching the Manhattan skyline glimmer before him. What a perfect city to fall in love in. Jefferson would have the first copies of the book printed within the next week. He'd have a copy of it in his hands before Christmas. And a copy for Laurens. His smile was shaky as he thought about it. No one made him as nervous. He turned away from the window, leaving the city behind him. It was so easy to get caught up on love, but he still had so much to do. As much as Laurens wanted him to relax and take a break, Hamilton knew he couldn't commit himself to the idea wholeheartedly. And besides, Laurens actually had a reasonable sleeping pattern, which gave him time to catch up on lost hours.

He had just finished another essay offering opinions on the judicial system, a month early, and submitted it, when he heard footsteps crossing the threshold of the room.
"Hamilton...come back to bed." He sighed. Maybe his plan was futile. When he felt Laurens' hand on his shoulder, he knew it was. "It's cold without you. C'mon you promised-"
"I know, I know." He closed his laptop, giving in. Laurens looked good in the moonlight, it seemed to drip off his body. Little flickers of blue light darting back and forth against the dips of his skin as he moved. Hamilton stood facing him, just staring for a second, totally enchanted. When they kissed there was nothing but light.

*

"I'm so fucking tired," Laurens grumbled.
"You shouldn't have woken up last night," Hamilton replied with an unsympathetic shrug, but gave him a kiss anyway. He was already dressed and ready to go, but Laurens had still to leave the bed. His curls poured over the pillows, messy from his restless ways of sleeping and seeming ever more plentiful.
"You shouldn't have left me. Not my fault I love you too much." There was silence between them for a minute, as they processed what had been finally said. It was not a grand gesture or moment, but it was one which would never leave Hamilton's memory, or mind. Laurens' eyes were searching his, begging for the answer Alexander knew he'd provide. There was something in his heart that cemented in place, at that very moment. Something massive and so important, but something that he couldn't place or pin down.
"I love you," Hamilton whispered, falling back into bed beside him. "Too much."  He traced Laurens' jaw with his thumb, so lightly that their skin was just hardly touching. When he reached the curve of his chin, he pressed on it lightly, then kissed the lips above.

*

"Oh shit," Laurens said, staring at Hamilton, just as they left the apartment to head to the protest. "Oh shit. Shit. Shit shit shit." Hamilton frowned, quizzical. "Babe, let down your hair. Please. Fuck I'm sorry."
"What???"
"I ...aH." Awkwardly, Laurens reached over and rugged out the hair tie which had been holding Hamilton's hair up in a perfectly constructed bun.
"Hey! What the fuck??"
Laurens leaned over hurriedly, his lips close against Hamilton's ears. His words came out in a rapid hurry, "I gave you a hickey, Alex." He sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just below your ear. If you tuck your hair like..." He reaches out to touch his hair again and pushed it behind his ears, smoothing it out and attempting to cover the bruise.
"Laurens, it's okay. It's just a hickey. And besides, I don't have classes until Tuesday." Hamilton touched his boyfriends cheek, giving him a reassuring smile until he returned it. "Don't stress."
"You've to meet my friends and I just thought...Jesus Christ I should be more careful. I'm not even out to my parents, if one of their friend's saw..."

Oh shit. He wasn't out? Hamilton thought about his words that had already gone through the editor and were probably being printed at that very moment. Why did he name Laurens?? He could have just left it anonymous...
"Are you okay?" Laurens' sweet voice scattered his thoughts.
"Yes. Ya. Sorry, darling, I'm fine."
Laurens' smile to the pet name made his heart soar. No, he was doing the right thing. No doubt. No one but Laurens would probably even read it, anyway.

*

They were late to the protest because Laurens kept stopping Hamilton to fix his hair so that the hickey wasn't showing. Half-annoyed by Laurens excessive obsessing, Hamilton also found it half-adorable as fuck. Laurens was carrying a number of protest signs he'd made for his friends earlier that morning, and every time he stopped he had to sent them down, then hold Hamilton's face still while he fiddled around with his hair. He couldn't say that he was bothered. Any attention from Laurens made his heart race.

When they finally arrived on the common, Laurens tip-toed around, trying to find his friends over the heads of the large and ever-expanding crowds.
"They said they'd be here by now...they should be around here somewhere..."
Not knowing what they looked like, Hamilton could only follow behind him sheepishly.
"I can't see them I'll just-"
They both saw him at the same time. Burr.
"Fuck," they simultaneously groaned.
He was standing with a handful of people protesting the protest, a concept in itself, stupid. They had placed themselves by a large tree in the centre of the crowd, another stupid move, Hamilton thought, sneering to himself. They were surrounded by people who didn't share the same ideals. He could already feel his blood beginning to boil.

Things were about to get interesting.