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Icarus loved the Sun.
The Sun was a ball of blazing glory in the sky, lighting up the horizons with its brilliance. It loved too much, burned too bright, all of it too close, too close, too close. No matter how high Icarus soared, no matter how far he stretched his arms, fruitlessly trying to grasp at its light as burning wax dripped down his wings and scorched his back, he could never grasp it.
If Lee was the Sun, Adams mused to himself, then he surely must be Icarus.
The Congress hall was shrouded in more darkness than usual, with bloated black storm clouds blotting out the sky, and the low rumble of thunder in the distance promising rain that had yet to fall. The roaring inside, however, was louder than any storm, as angry remarks and pointed jabs were fired across the room like bullets.
Seething at his desk, an ink-stained pen clutched in a bruising grip in one hand, Adams allowed his gaze to wander across the sea of delegates, to the far side of the room where the Virginia delegates resided. There were less people than usual milling about that area, most in the midst of the shouting fit in the center of the room, but one man was still sitting dutifully by the mostly abandoned table.
At last Lee looked up and met his gaze, and the brightness of the smile that broke across his face was enough to put all the candles in the room to shame.
It was like staring into the sun, with such an intensity that it made his eyes throb, yet Adams found that he could not tear his gaze away from it. Too late did he realize that sun was now actively barreling towards him.
Lee was like a live wire, constantly abuzz with energy that he seemed to put into everything he did. Adams felt an enthusiastic arm wrapping around his shoulders, and drew back as though he had been shocked. He could practically feel the energy radiating off of the other man like sparks, always too much and too close.
One boisterously loud “Hiya, Johnny!” was all it took for Adams to feel the beginnings of a headache setting in, making his temple throb. Lee was beaming down at him still, his smile unfaltering despite Adams’s glare.
“Must you get so close?” he snapped irritably, grabbing his cane with his free hand and using it to fend off another attempt by Lee to get closer. “This room is hot enough already without you feeling the need to get in everyone’s personal space.”
“Aw, don’t be like that, Johnny!” Lee replied with his usual gusto, earning himself another jab to the chest. Adams was about to make some other wry remark, irritated by the sudden breach of his space by this grinning idiot, when the booming roar of thunder sliced through the air, at last getting him to drag his gaze away from the Virginian and stare out the window. It seemed that the heavens themselves had opened up for the rain to pour out of the sky in a sudden onslaught, and McNair rushed over to close the remaining windows.
The shouting inside the hall ceased for only a moment, silenced either out of fear or some kind of awe at the raging storm outside, before picking up speed once again. However, when Adams looked over again, the spot where Lee had been standing moments earlier was now empty. Glancing around in his confusion, he found that the Virginian had made a beeline towards the doors.
“Lee!” Adams called out, brows furrowed. “What are you doing? Can’t you see it’s pouring outside?”
One hand already on the doorknobs, Lee glanced back at him over his shoulder. “Exact-lee!” he replied quickly, sparing a second to snicker at his own pun. “I left my horse out there! I can’t let her stay there and get all soaked!”
Rubbing his eyes, Adams glared at him, exasperation clear in his voice. “Forget the damned horse! What are you even going to do, bring it inside?”
Lee’s silence was enough confirmation for that last question.
Adams’s eyes widened incredulously. “Lee, you could not possibly be considering bringing a horse into the hall of Congress–”
Before he could even finish his sentence, Lee had already bolted out the doors, leaving an irritated Adams behind in his wake.
Glancing frantically back and forth between the rest of Congress and the now open doors, Adams growled under his breath and shot out of his seat, racing after Lee.
Seeing the pelting rain firsthand was almost enough to send Adams scurrying back into the safety of the building, but he continued searching for the whereabouts of Lee from under the safety of the awning.
He spotted the man wrestling with the reins of his horse, trying to lead the beast towards the building. Crossing his arms, Adams met his gaze, raising an eyebrow with an unimpressed expression. “Absolutely not.”
Despite the thick clouds covering the sky, he could swear that Lee practically made the air around them glow, as though the sunlight had never left in the first place. Something about how enthusiastically he was treating this task, crooning softly to the thousand pound creature that could easily squash him then and there, or that dopey smile of his.
The horse snorted loudly, its hooves digging firmly into the ground despite Lee’s best efforts to move it. His coat was beginning to look a little worse for wear as more rain seeped into it, and the water made the reins slick, slipping out of his grip. He hastily reached to snatch it back with his good hand, shooting an alarmed look at Adams.
“If you think that I am going anywhere near that beast,” Adams told him wryly, taking a step closer towards the doors and wondering if it was too late to make a run for it back inside. “You would be severely mistaken.”
The horse, however, had other plans. It moved so suddenly that Lee lost his grip on its reins again, yelping in surprise as he scrambled to grab onto it again. Paying him no mind, the horse made its way over to Adams, towering over him. For once, it occurred to him that this creature could squash him to bits too, and he began immensely regretting his decision to follow Lee out of the safety of the Congress hall.
Dipping its mighty head, the horse grabbed Adams’s cravat with its teeth and began to steadily gnaw on it. He recoiled in disgust, but the horse’s grip on his clothing held firm. “Lee,” he hissed through clenched teeth, shooting the man a murderous glare. “Get this thing off of me.”
The Virginian looked far too amused for this situation, despite his attempts to muffle his laughter, much to Adams’s chagrin. He managed to pull his arm far enough away from the monstrous beast that was still preoccupied with eating his clothes, and waved his cane at Lee indignantly. “Don’t just stand there!” he barked out, jerking forward as the horse tugged gently on his now slobber-covered cravat.
Finally getting his amusement under wraps, Lee managed to tug the fabric out of the horse’s mouth, earning himself a disgruntled snort from the creature. “She doesn’t mean you any harm, you know,” he told Adams, grin unfaltering despite being soaked to the bone and about to lead a wet horse into the Congress hall. “She’s just havin’ fun!”
Shaking out his cravat, now soaked with horse slobber and rain, Adams scowled at him. “That makes one of us,” he muttered sulkily, batting Lee in the arm with his cane as he heard the man let out another snicker.
A bolt of lightning forked across the sky, casting the city in a scorching white light for half a second until it faded back into the clouds, followed by the booming roar of thunder. The horse jerked slightly, tugging Lee along by its reins as it trotted under the awning, ears twitching in unease.
Adams was not willing to spend a moment longer outside of the safety of the Congress hall, which was a sentiment he wasn’t sure he had ever felt until now. However, it seemed like Lee and the horse shared that very thought, and the huge beast began trotting towards the doors. Still holding its reins in one hand, Lee gave him a wide, hopeful stare.
Letting out an irritated sigh, Adams felt a sense of heavy resignation drag down any last complaints he had about the creature. Ducking into the building, he shook out his coat and glanced back at Lee.
“...If you still want to bring that thing inside,” he said at length. “Then I will not stop you. Just do not blame me when Hancock kicks both of you out.” As if hoping that not being able to see the horse would miraculously make it go away, he spun around with a sweep of his coat and briskly made his way back to the other delegates.
He did not stop and turn around to acknowledge the loud whoop of excitement behind him, nor did he think about the sudden warmth that drowned out any last chills the rain could have brought.
***
If Adams was not mistaken, he would have guessed that Hancock was approximately ten seconds away from snatching Colonel McKean’s rifle and shooting Lee himself.
“For the last time, Mr. Lee,” he forced out through clenched teeth, looking ready to leave Congress and never return right there. “You cannot bring your horse inside of the Congress hall.”
A soaked, crestfallen Lee, with an equally soaked horse looming behind him, gave Hancock that same, wide-eyed stare, not too different from a puppy. “But it’s raining outside,” he protested.
Head practically in his hands, Hancock did not look up as he answered. “And you can leave your horse under the awning, Mr. Lee. Outside of the building.”
Grabbing the horse's reins, Lee spun around and shot out of the door, practically vibrating with every step. Despite himself, Adams couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, earning himself surprised glances from some of the delegates around him.
Icarus loved the Sun. No matter how high he soared, how far he reached, he could never love as intensely as the sun. He could never burn as bright, nor love with the same fervent passion.
But as Adams watched Lee vanish out the door, shining with the brilliance of a thousand stars despite his bedraggled appearance after facing the wrath of the rain, he couldn’t help but try.