A/N: Hey everybody! This story contains period-typical homophobia, including the dismissal of a gay relationship and the threat of capital punishment. Also, George Washington is not awesome in this, but at the end the perspective switches to him in a somewhat sympathetic way, because people are complicated, so if that's going to bother you, be warned. Hope you enjoy!

When the messenger arrived, slightly out of breath, John Laurens didn't suspect anything amiss.

He didn't even let the man get beyond "General Washington requires your presence—" before he looked up from what he was doing (inventory—they were, as usual, disturbingly short on just about everything) and made his way to General Washington's tent.

What unsettled him was the fact that Hamilton was already there, standing at attention with his hair coming slightly loose from its accustomed tie.

General Washington had never yet called his aides-de-camp two at a time.

Only one thing united Laurens and Hamilton and none of the others.

"What do you need, sir?" asked Hamilton from beside him. His voice was perfectly steady, even though he had to have reached the same conclusion Laurens had. Had the two of them not been capable of feigning calm indifference while, in fact, deeply frightened, they would not have long survived—in war, in life, in anything.

"I have received report from a credible source," said Washington, "that the two of you were observed... engaging in amorous activities."

"I can explain," said Hamilton immediately.

Washington looked at him dubiously. "Pray do so."

"It was... kissing practice," said Hamilton confidently. "Laurens told me he was feeling less than confident in his skills, for when he gets back home to his wife, you know, and we all know my abilities in that area are exceptional, so I thought I could instruct him. And what's a lesson without a practical demonstration?" Hamilton shrugged. "I was aiding a comrade. Surely there's nothing wrong with that?"

Laurens thought it quite possible that he had never loved Hamilton more than in that moment.

Washington shut his eyes for a moment. "And that required dropping your pants?"

Laurens fought to keep his expression even, even as he could feel his face flushing deep red. How much had Washington's source seen?

Hamilton opened his mouth again (to say what, Laurens knew not), but Washington cut him off with a look. Laurens, who would have taken a bullet for Hamilton in less than a heartbeat, was very glad he wasn't on the receiving end of that look. For once in his life, Hamilton actually fell silent.

"I know you're both impulsive, but really, I expected that you'd have at least a modicum of common sense. You willingly risked your lives for... what? A moment of pleasure? A balm for the loneliness of war? Was that really worth it?" Washington's expression was controlled, but Laurens had heard rumors of his legendary fits of temper, and prayed he wasn't about to experience one firsthand. Then Washington's face seemed to soften. "I've seen this happen before," he said. "You think you're in love. You're not. You're just lonely. But that's no excuse for the monumental stupidity of allowing yourselves to get caught-"

"It would never have been an issue if some eager-to-please private hadn't had such an inordinately shy bladder," Hamilton interrupted. Which seemed like a bit of a wild guess to Laurens, but based on Washington's expression, he was fairly certain Hamilton had guessed right.

"Which does not influence the fact that there was an issue," said Washington, "and now you're here."

"Are you going to have us shot, sir?" asked Laurens. He tried not to let the prospect trouble him. It wasn't the idea of dying, per se, that bothered him, but rather the idea of dying for something so pointless, with so much left undone, with the war yet to win. He didn't need to look over to know that Hamilton was feeling the exact same way. It was one of the things that had drawn them together—their shared devotion to their young nation, combined with their little regard for their own lives. The reply came quickly.

"No, I'm not going to have you shot," said Washington. "I need you to win the war—both of you. Men like you are hard to come by. But I hope you realize what a precarious position you've placed me in. I can't kill you, but I certainly can't let word get around that I allow capital crimes to go unpunished. To do so would be to destabilize the rule of law in our army and in our nation. An army runs on discipline; I cannot have my soldiers thinking they can disobey laws—or orders—without consequence. Do you understand me?"

Hamilton and Laurens both nodded.

"So?" asked Hamilton.

"Nobody needs to know," said Washington. "I've advised my source that unit cohesion ought to prevent tale-telling, and that he is not to tell anyone else what he saw. Hopefully he listens. As for you two, I expect more decorous behavior from now on. I don't want to hear about anything like this happening again. If I do, I won't be so lenient." He looked at Hamilton. "To be clear, 'I don't want to hear about it' means 'don't do anything', not 'don't get caught'."

"Yes, sir," said Hamilton, looking chagrined.

"Be honest. Do I need to separate you?"

"No, sir," they chorused in unison.

"I'll believe you—for now," said Washington. "But if I hear another report of inappropriate conduct, I will devise an appropriate punishment—and I will separate you."

"Yes, sir," they once again said at the same time.

"Laurens, what were the results of your inventory this morning?"

"We're low on everything, sir," said Laurens. "Especially food and gunpowder."

"Write congress and tell them that. Emphasize that an army marches on its stomach, and that without gunpowder we cannot hope to repel the British. Essentially, send the letter you've been sending, only louder and more difficult to ignore. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir," Laurens said.

"Dismissed," said Washington, and Laurens left. "Hamilton, stay."

"Sir?"

Washington gestured to a stack of papers on his desk. "These are reports from our spies. I want you to look for patterns and give me a report on actionable intelligence. This is an urgent matter—some reports say an attack may be coming, others say no. I need you to make sense of it all."

"Yes, sir," said Hamilton. As Washington started to leave, he was stopped at the door by a small "sir?"

"Yes?"

"You still trust me?" Hamilton looked like it pained him to ask, but he needed to know.

"As far as I know," said Washington, "your writing hand is unimpeded by whatever else you may choose to do with it. And I don't see how your mind enters into things at all. So, yes."

As Washington turned to go, something made him stop again. "Hamilton," he said. "There's a ball coming up. The Schuyler sisters will be there. Marrying one of them could solve your money problems."

"That had already occurred to me," said Hamilton.

"When you marry," said Washington, "you will be expected to be a faithful husband."

"I'm aware," said Hamilton drily. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." Hamilton promptly began reading the reports.

"I won't keep you from your work any longer," said Washington to the top of Hamilton's head.

Washington had places to be. He really shouldn't have been taking so long. But he couldn't help pausing at the entrance to the tent one more time.

"Good luck, son," he whispered, knowing Hamilton wouldn't hear.

Then he strode out and into the war.

A/N: Hello again! What did you think? Please leave a review and let me know! I hope you have a great day!