Obvious (Hamilton--M)

[groundcontrol]

Hi, I'm back this time with a Hamilton fanfic. I've never actually seen the musical, only recently heard the songs, so hopefully I do these characters justice. Also, I'm trying my best with the historical side of it, but I'm no scholar of American history. 

Enjoy!

Alexander Hamilton found an odd thing waiting for him in his office that morning. He hung his coat on the rack slowly, eyeing the thing carefully as though it might suddenly burst into flames. Cautiously, he picked it up, dangling it carefully by two fingers. 

It was an invite to Jefferson’s next dinner party, or so it said on the envelope. Hamilton cut the envelope open gingerly, ready to drop it at a moment’s notice should it turn out to be rat poison or worms. But it remained an invitation. Dinner, seven o’clock on Thursday. 

Hamilton smelled it just to be absolutely sure it wasn't dosed in some exotic poison. It smelled of coffee grounds and nothing more. He laughed and let the invitation flutter back to his desk. As if he'd be caught dead at one of Jefferson’s parties. 

But after a moment, his infernal curiosity got the better of him, and he found his fingers clutching the invitation once more.

 
“Perhaps this is just what I need,” Hamilton murmured to himself. He would go to Jefferson’s party just to meet more of the people who backed him, and therefore more of the people he must sway Federalist. He would go simply for observation, for political research, and nothing more. As much as he hated to admit it, the idea intrigued him greatly. 

Alexander Hamilton set the invitation kindly at the corner of his desk, marked the date on his calendar, and set off to work on the stack of letters he had to reply to. He'd plan exactly what he'd say at the party when the day came; as for now, there was work to be done. 
----------
On the Thursday in question, Hamilton awoke with the dawn at his desk. His head pounded, and he rubbed his eyes as he tried to remember falling asleep the previous night. Evidently he had fallen asleep rather carelessly, as he had spilled ink all over the corner of his paper. He sighed. This was not even his biggest worry. 

After Eliza and the children had gone to bed the evening prior, he had sat down at his desk with a slight roughness in his throat. Today, what he'd hoped was a symptom of not drinking enough had magnified into a pulsating soreness. To add insult to injury, he found his nose to be blocked. He was catching cold and he knew it, but he could not allow it. There was work to be done. 
------
Hamilton wrote for another hour before Eliza entered, still in her nightdress with a shawl drawn around her shoulders. She glanced worriedly at the candle stub melted low in its holder. 

“You didn't work all night, did you?”
He shook his head furiously. “No, Eliza, of course not. I just forgot to put it out.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Even if that's true I'm hardly sure that's better. You could've burned the whole house--”

“Hah’tschoo!” 

“Bless you!”

Hurriedly, Hamilton tried to slide his handkerchief to his lap from where he'd been keeping it on the desk for easy access. But as always, Eliza was too keen. 

“A handkerchief, used,” she drew out the word like an insult, “on the table. You aren't sick, are you Alexander?”

“Woke up with a bit of a cold,” Hamilton mumbled. “Nothing to worry about.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “You’d better be telling me the truth. This better not turn out like that time you had “a little cold” that turned out to be Yellow Fever.”

Hamilton blushed; he'd nearly forgotten about his brush with death (and more terrifying, his Eliza’s anger once he was well again). “It won't, Eliza. I promise you, it's a cold and nothing more.”

“Well,” Eliza smirked, “if it's just a little cold as you say, I'm sure you're feeling well enough to help me with breakfast like you promised.”

Hamilton slumped theatrically back in his chair, coughing as pitifully as he could into his wrist. “On second thought, Eliza, this is probably the plague.”

“You know, if you didn't stay up half the night writing essays all the time, I'd say you're the laziest man God ever created, Alexander.” When her husband didn't move, she added, “That's your cue to get up.”

Hamilton stood slowly, holding his handkerchief poised and at the ready. “Hehh...Ihh’KESH! Hihh’kesshh’ahh!” 

Eliza moved to her husband’s side, rubbing his shoulder gently. “Maybe it's best we save this promise for another day, hmmm?”

Hamilton nodded. “Probably be--ehh’KSSH!”

He turned away from his wife, coughing slightly in the aftermath. “Best.”

Eliza nodded and went to the kitchen. Hamilton waited until her footsteps had receded before sitting back down at his desk, handkerchief in hand. He had a letter from John Jay still to respond to, and then the question of what to say at this dinner later on…

“And for God’s sake, Alexander Hamilton, put the quill down for once!” 

TBC

 

[Secret Sneezer]

OMG! This is awesome!

[Alabaster]

Yessss I’m so happy for the addition of Hamilton fics! His thoughts about jeffersons invitation made me laugh

[ham4ham]

I love the part of Alexander trying to hide his handkerchief from Eliza- it's so like him.  Please continue!

[v a n i l l a]

This is absolutely superb and I applaud you for creating this masterpiece  Looking forward to the next installment!

[Sneezy123]

THIS IS SO AMAZING

[groundcontrol]

Hi all, thank you for reading and reviewing so enthusiastically! Part 2 ahead!

Eliza walked in on him as he was getting ready for the dinner. She had been polishing a candle-holder, which she set cautiously aside. 

“You're not still going, are you?”

“To Jefferson’s?” Hamilton did his top button and sniffed to try to rid his nose of the dreadful tickle. “Of course I--hehh--am, Eliza. Hehh’KSHOO! Ahh’KETCH!” Not possessing of his handkerchief, he directed his sneezes toward the floor. “Pardon.”

“Look at you, you're a sniffling mess, Alexander. You can't go like this.”

“It's just a cold, Eliza. Adams came to a Congress meeting with tonsillitis and he was fine.”

Eliza sighed, drawing nearer to her husband. “That was the Continental Congress. This is a dinner party that you didn't even want to go to in the first place.”

“You say dinner party like it's nothing. I plan on uncovering some of the secrets vital to helping our budding nation. Eh’CHOO!” Hamilton groaned almost inaudibly and snuggled again, his handkerchief still on his desk. 

Eliza, aware that nothing she could say at this point would dissuade her bullheaded husband, resigned to straightening his collar. “Just don't push yourself too hard, Alexander.”

He kissed her cheek. “You have my word.”
------------
Hamilton arrived at the dinner just as everyone else arrived, so it seemed. There were slaves posted at the door, taking names and coats, but Hamilton gave them only the former and asked if he might take care of his coat himself. 

“If it isn't Alexander Hamilton, the high and mighty,” Madison said from behind. 

“If it makes me high and mighty to oppose slavery, then so be it,” Alexander quipped. The two moved away from the doorway. 

“So is it Federalist doctrine to crash parties now?”

“Of course not,” Hamilton said, drawing the invitation from his pocket. “I happen to have been invited.”

Unfortunately, taking out the invitation had dislodged another vital object from his pocket. Hamilton dove after his handkerchief, stuffing it back in his pocket and hoping Madison didn't notice. The latter gave no cue that he did. 

Hamilton flitted from guest to guest in conversation and debate; there were quite a few people but he'd expected many more. All the while he did his best to keep coughs as suppressed as possible as well as all handkerchief use to a minimum. But for a few lapses in grace, he was successful. 

While Hamilton was discussing the Northwest Ordinance with anyone who would listen, he saw the host himself deep in conversation with Madison. Jefferson looked up, saw Hamilton, and nodded with raised eyebrows to show he was impressed. He excused himself, and went to Hamilton with outstretched arms. 

“Here's one person I didn't expect to see here tonight.” Jefferson’s voice was smooth, his face glowed. Here at his dinner parties he was clearly in his element. And he knew Hamilton clearly wasn't. 

Hamilton ignored Jefferson’s attempt at a handshake. “So your invitation was insincere?”

“On the contrary, we have much to discuss.” Jefferson’s eyes narrowed and his lip curled in a sneer. “I assume Daddy sent you?”

“Washington had nothing to do with this,” Hamilton said coldly. “I came here of my own accord, Mr. Jefferson. As a matter of fact, everything I do is of my own accord.” To Hamilton’s horror, his cold chose that moment to announce its presence. “Heh’KTCH! Hihh’TCHuhh!”

“Including being sick?”

Hamilton gave his nose a quick, bitter swipe with his handkerchief. “Who says I--”

“You do.” Jefferson seemed keen to stop there, but his smugness got the better of him. “Come on, the voice, the tired eyes, the sneezing. I read people like books, Hamilton. You're screaming at me in capital letters right now.”

“That's not true, and I did not come here to be analyzed by you.” In his head, Hamilton added, I’m the one who will be doing the analyzing. 

“Whatever you say,” Jefferson said in that voice of his, so full of conceit that if you poked it with a needle, it would burst. “Come to the dining room, dinner is almost ready.”

TBC 

[TheMaster]

Oh I'm really enjoying this fic thanks for the update.

[Secret Sneezer]

So cute! Another great addition!

[ham4ham]

love this update!

[alyssa]

This is great! There really aren't enough Hamilton fics on here, can't wait for more

[ICan'tThinkOfAnything]

Ooooooh, I'm looking forward to the next installment!