Archie Kennedy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
betteralready) wrote2016-12-30 09:47 pm
betteralready) wrote2016-12-30 09:47 pm
me? i died for him [reslife au]
The topic comes up as they're driving some of the kids home from a retreat. Hamilton's soundtrack is good road trip music, and something Archie's listened to and read up on enough to actually know a thing or two.
He thinks Horatio's asleep in the passenger seat when one of the kids pipes up with a question about Laurens' line in the first song. Archie's surprised when none of their other residents don't know the theoretical answer-- replies easily after a glance Horatio's direction. He's facing away from him, but his breathing's fairly steady. He's probably asleep.
It makes it easier for Archie to start to explain.
"It's actually pretty depressing, if you think about it," he begins, eyes focused on the road but gaze flickering a moment to meet with the resident that posed the query in the first place, "Apparently, there's a lot of evidence indicating that Laurens and Hamilton were in a relationship, starting about when they were aide-de-camps under Washington. But Laurens had some-- really bad self-esteem and awful internalized homophobia, thanks mostly to his dad being an ass. And when the war was drawing to an end, he didn't really-- think he'd have much of a place in the world after, but he knew Hamilton would."
There's a thoughtful flicker to his expression, for a moment. He hadn't thought much of it before, but there's the beginnings of a realization of some parallels. Unconsciously, he tucks it away for later reflection.
"So there's-- quite a bit of indication that Laurens rather recklessly threw himself into that last battle he fought. That it was a kind of-- suicide by proxy, partially because he-- didn't want to live after the war, but it was partially because he knew that Hamilton had the potential to-- really be something, in the new country they were making. But he thought, and probably rightly, that that would only happen if Hamilton married a woman and wasn't-- even the least bit rumored to be romantically or sexually involved with a man. But Hamilton was too loyal and wouldn't've given up on Laurens without a fight."
Another brief flicker of his gaze back to his kid, his smile a little sad.
"So to Laurens, it seems, the only solution was to-- die, so that Hamilton would have a-- good chance at things. Hence his 'I died for him.' Depressing, right?"
"Hella," the resident agrees, "And then Hamilton didn't even manage to-- keep things going well for himself. He had to mess it all up by cheating on Eliza and-- being a stubborn, impulsive idiot."
It's easy enough to let the change in topic happen naturally. Archie lets himself laugh in response to the words, and the conversation turns easily enough to Hamilton's foolishness.
Through it all, Archie still thinks Horatio's asleep.
He thinks Horatio's asleep in the passenger seat when one of the kids pipes up with a question about Laurens' line in the first song. Archie's surprised when none of their other residents don't know the theoretical answer-- replies easily after a glance Horatio's direction. He's facing away from him, but his breathing's fairly steady. He's probably asleep.
It makes it easier for Archie to start to explain.
"It's actually pretty depressing, if you think about it," he begins, eyes focused on the road but gaze flickering a moment to meet with the resident that posed the query in the first place, "Apparently, there's a lot of evidence indicating that Laurens and Hamilton were in a relationship, starting about when they were aide-de-camps under Washington. But Laurens had some-- really bad self-esteem and awful internalized homophobia, thanks mostly to his dad being an ass. And when the war was drawing to an end, he didn't really-- think he'd have much of a place in the world after, but he knew Hamilton would."
There's a thoughtful flicker to his expression, for a moment. He hadn't thought much of it before, but there's the beginnings of a realization of some parallels. Unconsciously, he tucks it away for later reflection.
"So there's-- quite a bit of indication that Laurens rather recklessly threw himself into that last battle he fought. That it was a kind of-- suicide by proxy, partially because he-- didn't want to live after the war, but it was partially because he knew that Hamilton had the potential to-- really be something, in the new country they were making. But he thought, and probably rightly, that that would only happen if Hamilton married a woman and wasn't-- even the least bit rumored to be romantically or sexually involved with a man. But Hamilton was too loyal and wouldn't've given up on Laurens without a fight."
Another brief flicker of his gaze back to his kid, his smile a little sad.
"So to Laurens, it seems, the only solution was to-- die, so that Hamilton would have a-- good chance at things. Hence his 'I died for him.' Depressing, right?"
"Hella," the resident agrees, "And then Hamilton didn't even manage to-- keep things going well for himself. He had to mess it all up by cheating on Eliza and-- being a stubborn, impulsive idiot."
It's easy enough to let the change in topic happen naturally. Archie lets himself laugh in response to the words, and the conversation turns easily enough to Hamilton's foolishness.
Through it all, Archie still thinks Horatio's asleep.
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It's so easy to shift again, settling his hand protectively at the back of the other young man's neck.
"It's never been an obligation." Not in any lifetime. "Don't you feel obligated either."
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"I could never feel obligated, with you."
Part of the beauty of being with Horatio is that every step of the way has felt like a choice.
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"God, I hope so, Archie."
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A quick lean forward to capture Horatio's lips in a fond kiss.
"I have-- never felt obligated, with you. Just-- happy."
It's true of this time, certainly.
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More than he wanted much of anything for himself. More than he knew how to put into words. More than he suspected could be properly expressed, even with fervent presses of lips and tight clinging of hands.
"Not-- so bad, if I help with that."
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Which, surely, is obvious by the bright grin on his face every time he's with him-- even now.
"You're-- the best thing that ever happened to me, in both lives."
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"Suppose I have to take your word."
He doesn't have to believe it. He just has to stick here, he's fairly certain; and that's a delight in its own right.
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"Hopefully you'll be able to believe me, someday."
But it's enough, that he accepts it now.
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A joy, really. A constant sort of gift, particularly with the dust settling between them.
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And, really, he can't thank the other young man enough for it.
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He can't imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else in the world.