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Loving Hating You

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"Secretary Hamilton, your response?"
"I wasn't listening, but I disagree with Jefferson."
A groan rings through the courtroom.
Things like this have been going on ever since Jefferson and Hamilton met. Disagreements on every turn, hissing and glaring at each statement, things that would normally make anyone else shiver. The two were very resilient. If anyone were too unlucky to get between their stares, the tension would send them into some odd state of discomfort.
The politicians had almost the same ideas, too. They just... loved hating each other. Hamilton would come into work every day anticipating their next debate. Jefferson would spend hours in the mirror each morning, knowing he'd have to look better than Hamilton-- "won't take much effort," Madison would reply with-- and he'd always make fun of Hamilton for his lack of sense of style.
In the past week, unfortunately for the rest of the court, Hamilton and Jefferson had been through some tough shit. Eliza, Alexander's wife, ran off with her sister Angelica to their father's once more, despite the previous summer's antics. Jefferson had gone through a bit more than a few disagreements of his own, and Madison had gone off somewhere again, leaving the two of them without the factors of their lives that kept them from killing each other. Washington was the only person who could grab them both by the collar and tell them to behave, and he couldn't do much anything when work was over.
"Secretary Jefferson?"
"I apologize, mister Washington, I was far too busy-"
"Fantasizing about Alex?" Someone called from across the room. Jefferson snarled before sighing and looking back.
"-thinking about a solution to this problem. I'm afraid I didn't hear your point." George sighed.
"Meeting adjourned." And with that, the courtroom cleared, leaving Hamilton furiously writing down notes and Jefferson watching him with a sense of both disgust and curiosity.
"Hey," Washington called. "You two. I'm locking up in here, so either debate through the morning or leave."
"Don't worry, sir," Jefferson replied. "I'll lock up. If you leave the keys-"
"I'm sorry, secretary Jefferson, but I only entrust secretary Hamilton with locking up."
A scoff.
"I'll leave you to it, then. Hamilton?" The other looked up. "Lock up this place. Don't destroy the place, alright?"
"Yes, sir."
The doors closed, leaving them both in the room. Jefferson met Hamilton's eyes once the younger looked up from his notes.
"What? What, why are you staring?"
"I'm not staring."
"And I'm not a Hamilton," he replied sarcastically. "Why are you staring?"
"Because you haven't looked up from your fucking notepad all day and I want to debate with you."
"Wow, Jefferson. Never took you as one to beg for anything."
"I ain't begging. You know you've got a point you'd like to try to defend."
At this, Hamilton stood. He didn't like saying Jefferson was right. "I'm heading home."
"To whom? Your wife isn't there. You have time."
"Excuse me?"
"All I'm saying is that we have more time to debate."
"Oho, sure, like that's what on your mind."
"Hamilton, what are you implying-"
"All I'm saying is that we have more time to debate."
Things like what had happened would go on for hours that week. The tension would heat up the room until they were screaming at each other, until someone finally broke the tension by leaving the room. This night, however, was different.
Upon hearing the other, the two left their senate seats and stood, one in front of the other, arms crossed.
The first thing Hamilton noticed was how tall Jefferson truly was. Cocky-ass motherfucker thought he had the right to be taller than Hamilton? I'll show him.
The first thing Jefferson had noticed was how stubborn Hamilton was. The smartass just had to always prove his point, huh? Keep talking, Alexander, and I'll have to shut that pretty little mouth of yours-
Woah.
Jefferson stopped himself, his mind getting off-track.
The two stood face-to-face, eyes locked, with Hamilton scowling and Jefferson's lips twitching into a smirk.
"God, what I'd give to know what you're thinking," Hamilton mumbled.
"What was that?"
"I said I hate you and your entire fucking bloodline, Jefferson."
"Sure."
Hamilton kept eye contact, determined not to be the first to break it. "What was today's topic, anyways?"
"Slavery."
"Oh, I'm sure you loved talking about that."
"If you weren't paying attention, let me see your notes."
"What...?"
"You took notes all day."
"Those are personal."
"What, did you doodle Laurens' name all over your notebook?" Jefferson laughed. "I bet you did, didn't you? And after what happened with Reynolds, too. You're such a-"
"Oh, do shut up, Jefferson. I know you were fantasizing about your boyfriend all day."
"Madison's not here."
"I never said his name."
Ooh, this got him mad. Jefferson took a step forwards, towering over Hamilton by a good few inches.
"Look, Alex," he spat. "You are the most manipulative, oversensitive, twisted-minded bastard I've met."
"Same to you. Why are you getting so worked up about this? What, your boyfriend sick again?"
"What, your wife found out about you and Laurens again?"
"Why can't you keep your pretty mouth shut?"
"You think I'm pretty?" Jefferson scoffed.
"Not for a second," Hamilton replied, his eyes partially closed. "If you would be so kind as to get off of me-"
"I don't think I will," Jefferson continued, now putting his hand on Hamilton's chest and pushing him slightly, to the point where he was against the wall. "Don't say you haven't thought about this."
"I haven't thought about this, no. I have thought about relieving this tension."
"Oh? How so?"
Hamilton leaned in slightly, examining Jefferson's face. "You know exactly how."
And at the moment Jefferson leaned in, too, Hamilton brought his leg up and kneed Jefferson in the crotch.
That left him on the ground.
Who's taller now?
"My god, Jefferson, if I knew how you really felt, I'd get to do that ages ago."
Hamilton took the key out of his pocket and tossed it on the ground next to the pained man.
"Lock up when you're done crying."
And with that, he left for home, the both of them silently wishing Hamilton had just made the move he wanted to. Though, he had to admit, that was certainly a Hamilton way to deal with things.