Chapter Text
John Laurens was a vampire.
That was a very blunt fact, one that John had learned to deal with over the past two hundred and fifty odd years. His days as an American Revolutionist were long gone, but he still bore that all-consuming mark on his neck where General George Washington had bitten him.
Was it surprising that his commander was a creature of myth? Perhaps so. It was significantly more terrifying that Marquis de Lafayette, Hercules Mulligan, Aaron Burr and Thomas Jefferson had all been infected by the bloody curse of the vampire at some point during the revolution.
This, of course, meant that John was confined to living with the aforementioned. This, of course, unfortunately included Thomas Jefferson. This, of course, led to many arguments, such as the present one in the kitchen. “You can’t keep stalking him! You don’t even know if it’s actually Alexander! Do you know what the chances of reincarnating are? Because I’ll tell you, John Laurens, they’re really fucking slim.” Jefferson yelled, pacing the length of the kitchen. Aaron was studying his movements and surveying the argument like a tennis match – back, forth, back, forth. Lafayette and Hercules were, as per usual, totally engrossed in each other. Washington was out doing the weekly blood bank raid.
They tried to kill animals where possible, but nothing could truly satisfy a vampire except real, human blood. “And if it is? If it is Alex? If we’ve waited all this time and he’s finally there, if my love is just within reach-“
“He’s not your lover!” Thomas cut in, and John’s breath hitched. “For God’s sake, John, he married Elizabeth! You were a wartime fling, if that. There was never anything there. Not really. Just a way to blow off some steam in a military ground. If there was anything there, Hamilton would’ve kicked down our front door by now. Nothing stops that man when he cares about something, and clearly, that means he doesn’t care about y-“
“Enough. That is enough. Thomas, leave.” Lafayette cut in, sharp eyes cutting through Thomas like a perfectly sharpened knife. Thomas shot a last, dirty look at John before storming upstairs like a teenager in a tantrum.
John could barely see in front of him on account of the cloudy tears blurring everything. He heard Lafayette detach himself from Hercules and sit down in front of John, hands tight on his shoulders.
John blinked the watery pearls from his eyes, swallowing hard, but when he looked up all he could see was Alex. His bright, beautiful Alex, star shine in his eyes and sarcasm dripping from his tongue. His strong, stubborn Alex, who begged for a command and led a charge into Yorktown. His sweet, sensitive Alex, who came apart under John’s hands more times than John could count. His Alex, who John knew was out there, but he just couldn’t prove it.
“Mon ami, he’s telling utter lies. Thomas knows nothing of which he speaks. Anyone who knew you and Alexander knew that you had something, a bond he did not possess even with dear Eliza.”
“It’s true.” Aaron said quietly. “You and Alexander…it’s a wonder you were never caught. The way that boy looked at you, it was like he was staring at the most gorgeous statue that be would rather die than tear himself away from.” Aaron frowned slightly.
“When we faked your death, I was still around. Alexander threw himself into work like never before. He was grieving so terribly, the whole of congress could see he wasn’t the same. He was never the same again, really.” Aaron sighed.
John inhaled. He knew this. He knew his Alex loved him, and no matter what the asshole upstairs said, they had a relationship that should’ve gone down in history.
John pushed himself from the table, tucking a strand of blond hair that had slipped out of his careful ponytail back into place. He was going to find his Alex and bring him home, whether Jefferson liked it or not.