#someone draw me laurens in joggers omGDFG

[dvddggs]

To the Four of Us (Part Twelve)

premise: modern AU chronicling the squad as they make their way through college and deal with general life things. 

words: 2,503

warnings: swearing & things get a lil bit spicy ((nothing too graphic but nsfw!!))??? 

a/n: john is rly good at Suppressing His Emotions™ 

all chapters: x

tags: @heythereitsloey @anitheunicorn @newyorkyoucanbeanew @lafbagxette @justafangirlwithanavy @iamgrayfox @ordinaryornate @schuylerjoon @angelica-peggy-eliza @trashyperson101 @crazydragon15 @geespilots dedication: lmao i forgot to do this so they probably won’t see but @iamgrayfox and @skittlegeek03 for drawing TTFOU scenes for me oMFGG

soundtrack song: Fall Apart - Every Avenue

full soundtrack: x

as always, let me know what you think! shoot me an ask if you wanna be notified when I update!

Hercules woke up to a sore neck, a hard surface, and an incessant ringing in his ear. It wasn’t one of his nicer mornings. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sat up and realized that at some point during the night Alexander, whom he’d so kindly allowed in his bed, had pushed him onto the floor.

Hercules picked up his phone and checked who was trying to call him. Lafayette. He’d called four times, left three voicemails, and texted seven times. Mid-ring on the fifth call, Hercules smashed the ‘talk’ button with his thumb.

“What do you want, Laf?” he snapped.

“Mon dieu,” his friend’s voice melted sweetly through the speaker. “Aren’t we grumpy this morning.”

“I fell off my bed last night and your incessant calls woke me up.”

“Well, evidently not quickly enough. Our group presentation is in ten minutes, mon ami.”

In Alexander’s emotional turmoil of the previous night, Hercules had completely forgotten to practice his half of the presentation.

Or, y’know, write his half of the presentation.

“Fuck,” Hercules said quietly.

He clicked the speakerphone button so Laf could coach him through his lines as he pulled his clothes on and tried to smooth out his hair.

“Herc!” Lafayette yelled, halting the Hercules whirlwind for a moment. “John told me what happened, so when you told me Alex was sick I figured he was having an Alex moment and that’s why you were staying home. I wrote stuff down on a cue card for you. Chillax.”

Hercules sighed in relief.

“Who taught you the word, ‘chillax,’ Laf?”

“John. He said tons of people say it.”

“He lied,” Hercules chuckled. “You sound like a tool. No one’s said that since the nineties.”

“Fuck,” Lafayette muttered. “I told my TA that I spent the weekend chillaxing at your house. Anyways, see you soon. Hurry!”

Before Lafayette even hung up the phone, Hercules was out the door, leaving Alexander a text for when he woke up.

Herc: Had to go to class. I’ll be back soon. don’t do anything dumb. please, for the love of god, don’t do anything dumb.

When he got back from his class, Alexander was laying on Hercules’s bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked like he was deep in thought.

“He said he loved me, Herc,” Alexander remarked lightly when Hercules got back.

“I know,” Hercules replied. “I heard.”

“And I told him that I cheated on him. At the exact same time.”

Hercules didn’t know what to make of these statements—he couldn’t tell if Alexander was still sad or if he was disassociating from the upsetting previous night.

“I know.”

“And now, Hercules Mulligan, I have fucked up my life so incredibly that I cannot seem to function wholly enough to get up off of your bed. You see, when I kissed our dear friend John Laurens, I’m afraid that I have royally fucked up not only my relationship with my boyfriend, but also my friendship with John. And the pièce de résistance? There is nothing I can do to fix it.”

Alexander turned his head and shot a tight-lipped smile at Hercules, but his eyes were dark and humourless.

“You need to talk to him, Alex.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Alexander waved a dismissive hand and went back to staring at the ceiling. Hercules had never seen him like this. Was he broken?

After their kiss, John wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen. No matter what, though, he hadn’t expected to be ignored by Alexander for over a full day. He’d told him everything and he wasn’t crazy for thinking that they’d shared an intimate moment, was he?

For the amount that Alexander talked, he was pretty shitty at communicating. What had that night meant to him? John wasn’t stupid—he hadn’t expected Alexander to drop everything and break up with Thomas after they kissed—but he also hoped that it meant more to Alex than pity.

John was never one for pity—that was why he rarely told people about his father. He only told his friends because he figured they were past that point. And yet…

The Alexander Situation, as Lafayette was calling it, would not let John be. It nagged at his brain like an annoying fly, buzzing by his head right when he thought it was gone. He wanted to reach out and talk to Alexander, but he didn’t want to be the first to break the silence. What if he didn’t want to talk? What if Thomas had found out and they were in a fight? He didn’t want to make things worse.

Lafayette was getting annoyed by this ever-preoccupied John. Hercules, who had been supposedly taking care of a sick Alexander, was also busy, which left Laf laying on John’s floor staring at the ceiling saying things like, “Why can’t you just find yourself a nice boy and settle down, Johnny?”

To which John would usually sigh before saying, “Are you suggesting yourself? Make out with me and let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”

And Laf would scoff, “Please. You already know I do.”

And John would shrug because Laf was probably right and they’d go back to staring at the ceiling, or doing homework, or watching Netflix.

It’s not that he wasn’t affected by the kiss, it’s just that it was easier for him to ignore how wonderful it was at the time and how much it hurt to know that it was probably brought on by one of his best friends pitying him.

So, he bantered with Laf. He went to class. He made out with a guy from the first floor of their building. He kept his mind off of Alexander.

Until he got the text.

John was laying in his bed, contemplating whether or not he needed to attend his night class on social justice when his phone lit up from across the room. Since Laf was in class with Hercules, he’d assumed it was one of them updating him on how boring it was. When he checked the message, however, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Alex: Okay, we need to talk about what happened. I’m coming over.

John was surprised that stubborn Alexander Hamilton was making the first move in what was surely going to be an awkward encounter, but he wasn’t going to question it—it saved him the trouble of doing so.

Quickly, he got dressed, changing from the short sleeves he was comfortable wearing around Lafayette into a hoodie. The bruises on his arms had faded mostly into yellowish splotches, but he didn’t need Alexander staring at them the whole time they were talking. He still wasn’t sure what Alexander’s endgame was, but he needed to find out.

“John,” Alexander called through the door after a soft knock. “Can I come in?”

“It’s open,” John replied.

Alexander opened the door and tried to smile at John, but it looked like more of a pained grimace. John noticed right away how tired he looked. His eyes were puffy and he had bags under them so dark that they looked like bruises.

This was already so awkward…John didn’t know where to begin. Alexander should never have kissed him. Although, John was the one who practically begged for it. He remembered telling Alexander not to speak and ruin the moment at the time; it had just been so perfect. When they spoke now it was almost guaranteed to ruin everything, so John refused to make the first move. Why the hell would he ruin what he’d been longing for for so long?

“So…Thomas broke up with me.”

Wait, what?

“You told him,” John remarked. It wasn’t a question.

Alexander nodded and bit his lip, staring down at the floor. He looked upset and suddenly John understood why his eyes were so puffy—he’d been crying.

“I had to,” Alexander replied quietly.

John watched as Alexander stepped closer, shrinking the space between them. He reached out slowly for John’s hand and pulled him into his chest. Instantly, John felt his defences go up. He jerked away and felt his cheeks heat up in anger.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

Alexander looked as if he’d just been smacked in the face. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly. “I thought you wanted this.”

John gaped at him, incredulous.

“I don’t want to be your disgusting leftovers! Thomas dumped you because you can’t keep your fucking hands to yourself and you think I’m just going to be there waiting for you? Fuck no, Alexander. That’s not how this works.”

Alexander stared at John, at a loss for words. His hand still hovered awkwardly where it tried to hold John’s.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t—”

“Maybe next time,” John spat, “you should think before you take pity on one of your best friends and decide to kiss them when you’re supposedly in a happy relationship. Because that’s why you did it, right? Because you felt bad for me? I’m not some unstable little kid, Alexander. I’ve been dealing with this shit all my life; I can handle it. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

John huffed and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears of frustration. He knew he was being mean but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to be Alexander’s second choice. He could feel himself getting emotional. Why did Alexander have to fuck everything up? John wished he could go back to hating Thomas and feeling sorry for himself about their relationship. This was way more complicated. Now, there was no physical reason to not be with Alexander—it was on principle. John refused to be taken advantage of.

“I didn’t do it because I felt sorry for you,” Alexander whispered.

“Really?” John asked harshly. “Because now you’re standing in my room crying to me about how Thomas broke up with you after you made the choice to kiss me. What did you expect, Alexander? You can’t have it all. Sometimes you need to make a goddamn choice, and you made this one way too late. I’m done waiting for you to call the shots—”

Before John could finish his sentence, Alexander lunged forward and crushed his lips to John’s. This was not tender like their other kiss had been. He bit down on John’s lip and tugged at it with his teeth. John yelped in surprise but did not pull away—if Alexander could kiss John without having feelings, John could do the same to him.

John tugged on the collar of Alexander’s jacket to pull him closer, and Alexander locked his hands behind John’s back. They kissed roughly. John traced the outline of Alexander’s teeth with his tongue as Alexander nibbled on his bottom lip. Pulling his shirt over his head, John pushed Alexander down on his bed and walked across the room to lock his door.

“Take that off,” he growled, indicating Alexander’s jacket. He quickly obliged, throwing it in a pile on the floor. John tore the shirt off over Alexander’s head and ran a hand over his chest. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to his chest, sucking the skin—hard—to leave a dark hickey in his wake. He did this again on Alexander’s neck and on his jawline, feeling the vibration in Alexander’s throat as he moaned.

He didn’t really know where they were heading—whether they were going to stop or not. He was furious, but he also wanted this more than anything, which confused him.

“Fuck me,” Alexander groaned quietly.

John pulled back for a moment, genuinely surprised.

“What did you say?”

Alexander’s eyes grew darker, lustful. “I said fuck me.”

John bit his lip and looked down at Alexander. This was where he should have stopped. But he thought about all the times he’d imagined fucking him (it was more often than he cared to admit). So he didn’t stop.

It was nothing like John had pictured it to be—he was rough with Alexander, leaving hickeys trailing up his spine as he fucked him hard from behind.

When they finished, John rolled off Alexander and laid down beside him, panting. As his heart rate slowed to normal speed he realized how little this would probably help the situation. At least he felt a bit less angry.

“Fuck,” Alex whispered.

John nodded in agreement.

“So,” Alexander began. John refrained from rolling his eyes—this was when Alexander ruined things by talking. “John I know you’re probably still mad. I mean, that wasn’t exactly loving. But please just know that I really am sorry. I know that I’m a fucking idiot: I get caught up in a moment way too easily and get carried away. I didn’t kiss you the other night because I wanted to hurt you. I genuinely wasn’t thinking. And don’t worry—I fucked a lot of shit up, so I’m already being punished for it. You can at least take comfort in that. And—”

“Alexander,” John said exasperatedly. “Would you do me a favour and shut the fuck up?”

Alexander turned his head to look at John. There was a kindness somewhere in his eyes that wasn’t there before—the kindness that Alexander was used to seeing.

John sighed and stood up to pull his joggers back on. They’d seen each other naked long enough for one day. Baby steps. He tossed Alexander his jeans and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed.

This time, John reached for Alexander’s hand. He didn’t speak, or even look at Alexander as he tangled their fingers together. They were in a fragile place—not much was holding them together at the moment. It was like their interlocked fingers were the physical manifestation of their connection; it wouldn’t take much to break it.

Alexander released John’s hand and wrapped his arms around his back, pulling him down to lie with him on the bed. He curled up in front of Alexander, who slid one arm under John’s neck and the other over his side. Involuntarily, the corners of John’s lips tugged upwards into a small smile. He hated to admit it, but he felt safe.

Later that night, Lafayette knocked quietly on the door connecting his and John’s rooms. Hercules had asked him if he knew where Alexander was, and Laf had a sneaking suspicion John might know.

When John didn’t answer the knock, Lafayette creaked the door open and his jaw dropped. He immediately ripped his phone out of his pocket to text Hercules.

Laf: ALEX SPOONING JOHN. BOTH SHIRTLESS. JOHN’S HAIR IS DOWN. SEX HAIR. THEY FUCKED.

Hercules replied immediately.

Herc: fucking finally.

Laf smiled and tucked his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. As horrified as he was that he’d walked in on his best friends cuddling, he was happy they’d finally accepted the fact that they’d obviously been in love since they’d met.

The world was, for once, at peace.