Carriage Rides

The revolutionary set, as they liked to call themselves, walked the streets of the city until they reached a curb where carriages lined the block waiting for passengers. Lafayette volunteered to secure them one, probably because he knew he was the only one who could afford it. As he walked over to talk with a driver, he brushed arms with Hamilton. They both shivered at the brief contact, tensing. Lafayette was already wound up tight from Alexander's earlier display with his wine glass and the tug on his hair which he had yet to fix. He forced himself to keep walking instead of turning around and pressing himself flush against Hamilton's small frame. Hamilton examined Lafayette's rigid spine as he walked up to a carriage driver. God, I'd love to trace my fingers down that spine...

"What?"

Hamilton nearly jumped out of his skin.

"I'm sorry, what?" He turned to question Laurens.

"You were mumbling something about spines."

Hamilton laughed nervously. "Ah, yes, I was just thinking aloud to myself. My spine is aching a bit you see, a month at sea will do that to you apparently."

Laurens looked at him skeptically but nodded anyway. Lafayette made his way back over to them.

"I have gotten us a ride to the rebel camp, mes amis (my friends)."

"Great." Said Herc, clapping him on the back as he walked past him towards their carriage.

Alexander's mouth turned down when he watched Hercules' hand come in contact with Lafayette's body. Realizing he was glaring after his friend, he shook his head at himself. I'm being ridiculous, it's not like I have a claim on him. Not to say he didn't wish he did. The boys clambered into the carriage, John moving to sit next to Alex but getting beat out by Lafayette for the seat. John and Herc sat on the bench directly behind the driver and Alex and Lafayette sat across from them on the next one. They rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and slightly sleepy from the remnants of alcohol in their systems. Ten minutes into the ride, Hercules and John were already fast asleep, slouching on one another. Hamilton laughed softly at them before turning his head away to admire the town as they passed through it. All of a sudden, Alexander felt the weight of an arm resting behind him a second before a fingernail began tracing circles on the nape of his neck, unhindered by his ponytail. It took every ounce of willpower Alexander had to not voice his reaction to the ministrations from the man next to him, choosing instead to bite his lip as hard as he could- he did have a tolerance for pain after all. He was surprised his lip hadn't immediately started bleeding from the pressure. After a full minute of this, Hamilton wasn't sure how much more he could take, his breathing was already becoming jagged. Just as he thought that, the fingernail drawing circles on his nape suddenly scratched a line straight down the back of his neck. Alexander couldn't of stopped the small moan that slipped out even if he tried.

Alex froze, slapping a hand over his mouth. The finger on his neck froze too, but only for a moment. Alexander soon experienced the sensation of a short fingernail being dragged slowly- experimentally- straight down the back of his neck, lightly scraping against his skin. He let out another choked moan, muffled by his hand but still very audible. His eyes went wide and he whipped his head around to look at his torturer. The Frenchman, however, wasn't looking at him. Lafayette was gazing at the town on his side of the carriage although he knew Alexander was staring at him, he could feel those intense brown eyes boring holes into the back of his head. He decided to remove his hand from behind Hamilton and returned it to his lap, resting near the hilt of his sword as always. He could feel Alex relax next to him, letting out a shuddering breath. Lafayette smirked, proud of the effect he has on the him. Alexander's moans were music to his ears and if he had his way, he'd be hearing them again very soon. 

Lafayette's smirk faltered all of a sudden when he felt the presence of a warm palm on his leg. He looked down to find a small, light skinned hand resting on his right thigh. He peered over at the owner of the hand who was coincidentally looking in the opposite direction. He examined him for a few seconds before turning back around, choosing to ignore the hand.

Two words: grosse erreur (big mistake).

Alexander's hand had slipped to Lafayette's inner thigh. His thumb rubbed back and forth slowly, tantalizingly. Lafayette's breathing immediately sped up due to his light caresses. He heard Alexander chuckle darkly next to him right before his hand slid further up the inside of his thigh, still rubbing. Lafayette's breath hitched at the shortened proximity between Hamilton's hand and his groin. He tried shifting away a bit, but that only caused the little devil to inch his hand even further up than before, still brushing his thumb along the inside of his thigh in an achingly slow rhythm. Jesus fuck. Lafayette's body was beginning to heat with lust and about five glasses of wine in his bloodstream. He was trying hard to concentrate on anything other than the hand inching higher on his leg. That immediately went out the metaphorical window when he felt Hamilton's thumb brush the side of his manhood. Lafayette leapt up from his seat as if it were on fire, letting out a fast-spoken string of curses in French. This made John and Hercules jump out of their sleep.

"What? What happened?" They asked simultaneously, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Lafayette looked at them, face hot and flushed, and then at Hamilton who sat there with the cockiest smirk on his face the Frenchman had ever witnessed aside from his friend Thomas. "Nothing, mes amis (my friends). Nothing to worry about." He finally answered John and Hercules, turning back to them.

They both gave him a look that said they knew he was full of shit but they weren't going to press him any further about it. Lafayette gratefully took his seat again, not before sending a glare in Alexander's direction first. Alexander only winked at him and licked his lips salaciously in response. Following the path of Hamilton's tongue across his plump, pink bottom lip with his eyes did nothing to cool Lafayette's body down. In fact, it only spiked his internal temperature and burning lust for the black haired immigrant higher. He decided it was best to sit a little farther away from the 5'7" walking temptation. Speak of the devil, Lafayette could feel Alexander's hot breath on the shell of his ear.

"Payback's a bitch, isn't she?" Hamilton whispered to him, causing him to shiver.

Alexander chuckled lowly in his ear before leaning back and Lafayette tried his best to ignore his presence. As he returned to observing the town, he noticed the scenery had morphed into more of the beginnings of a forest. He could see huts circled around a wide clearing and a few fire pits up ahead. The carriage slowed to a stop, the driver announcing to them that he couldn't take them any further, the camp was closed to the public after sunset. The men thanked him and stepped out of the carriage, Lafayette walking over to pay for the ride. It had taken around a half hour to get to the camp, so it was now sometime after one in the morning as they walked themselves into the camp.

Click-click.

The boys were smart enough to freeze, recognizing the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. Lafayette's right hand shot to the curved handle attached to the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.

"State your name and purpose!"

Lafayette whirled around to face a man pointing a musket directly in the middle of his face. He was about to unsheathe his sword and run it through the man in front of him before he caught sight of his blue coat. Instead, he sighed and released his hold on his weapon, straightening to his full height and towering over the soldier whose hands shook a bit when he did. Lafayette smirked and put his hand on top of the soldier's gun, lowering its aim to the ground.

"S-Stop! I-I'll shoot!"

Lafayette nearly burst out laughing.

"Monsieur (Sir), I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, the Marquis de La Fayette. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't aim a gun at my face, thank you."

"I-I'm very sorry, Marquis. The general didn't tell us when to expect your arrival." The soldier stuttered nervously.

Lafayette clapped a hand on his shoulder, causing the young man to flinch. "As you Americans say, 'don't worry about it,' yes? Now, would you be so kind as to lead us to the general?" He leaned in close to the man's ear, "and maybe I won't tell him how you held a commanding officer at gunpoint, hm?"

The soldier nodded his head vigorously, gulping hard. "Y-Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Lafayette straightened and squeezed the young man's shoulder he still had a grasp on before letting go, flashing a bright smile down at him. "Fantastique (fantastic)! Then by all means, lead the way." He gestured out in front of them with a flourish of his hand to indicate for him to go ahead.

The soldier began walking further into the camp and the boys followed him in the darkness. The soldier walked them up to the front of one of the wooden cabins right in the center of the others in the camp and knocked on the door. A tired "who is it?" came from inside.

"F-Francis Roberts, sir."

Some shuffling was heard inside before the door creaked open to reveal a tall, imposing figure. In front of them stood the General George Washington. He stood in front of them as a model of strength and honor... and that model was in his pajamas.

"Who are these men you've brought into my camp, Roberts?" The general looked down on them, arms folded on his chest.

The soldier that had brought them in- Francis Roberts, apparently- squeaked in fright. "O-One of them is, ah, th- the Marquis de Lafayette." He said Lafayette's title in a frightened whisper.

Jesus, how did this snivelling little boy become a soldier? I wouldn't be surprised if he ran from his own shadow much less a gunshot. Lafayette nearly snickered at his own thoughts before remembering whose presence he stood in. The general's face suddenly morphed into a smile.

"Lafayette! I've been awaiting your arrival." He looked over the group. "Which one of you are him, exactly?"

"'Twould be me, Général (General)." Lafayette spoke up, stepping forward in front of Roberts.

The general smiled at him and clapped a hand on his shoulder, sticking his hand out. Lafayette shook his outstretched hand with a grin, immediately taking a liking to the older man.

"Who are your friends?" The general asked him.

"John Laurens from South Carolina, Sir."

"Hercules Mulligan, a tailor from Ireland, Sir."

"Alexander Hamilton at your service, Sir." Alexander didn't offer where he'd come from.

Washington looked towards the last man that had spoken. "Hamilton? I've heard a lot about you, young man."

Hamilton huffed out a small laugh. "Hopefully all good things, Sir."

Washington chuckled at him. "Very. I would actually like to speak with you later as well as Lafayette. However, at a more reasonable hour. I assume the three of you are here to join the war effort with the Marquis?" He asked looking at John, Alex, and Herc.

All three boys nod affirmatively in response. The general ordered Roberts to bring them each uniforms- a major-general one for Lafayette- and instructed him on which cabins to take them to. Lafayette and Hamilton were surprised to find that Washington had given them a cabin to share only between themselves, one that was quite close to his own. They assumed it had something to do with Lafayette's position and whatever he needed to talk to Hamilton about later. Hercules and John were a little further down, but thankfully not too far from their friends. They had to stay with two other men, a Henry Williams and one Murphy Connery. They were just glad they weren't stuck further into camp, far from their friends and sleeping in a room with ten other men in need of showers. The four friends had hugged each other- in the most manly way possible of course- before parting ways for the night. It had finally hit them that they had just essentially signed their lives away for this country and they didn't know what tomorrow- or rather later that day- would bring.

Hamilton and Lafayette stood in the middle of their cabin, examining their new home for God knows how long. There were two wood frame beds on either side of the room topped with thin cotton mattresses. A small desk and chair sat at the foot of either bed. An oil lamp burned atop each desk, dimly lighting the room. There was a small fireplace situated on the back wall and two small windows on either side of the door. All in all, there wasn't much to examine. Hamilton walked over to the bed on the right wall and dropped himself onto it. Lafayette watched him for a moment before moving to the bed on the left and doing the same. They sat in silence until it was broken by Alexander digging in his bag. Lafayette watched as he pulled the still half-full bottle of Chardonnay from his satchel.

"Wanna split this with me?"

A small smile graced Lafayette's features at the question.

"Is that even a question, Alexandre? I am French, why would I turn down wine?"

Alexander shivered, still not used to the sound of his French name. He looked Lafayette dead in the eyes and grinned wickedly. "Are you suggesting we get piss drunk on our first night in the army?"

"Ha! Mon ami (my friend), I do not get drunk. I assure you it will be you who is, how you say, smashed after tonight." Lafayette didn't miss the mischievous twinkle in Alexander's dark eyes from the challenge.

"You're on."