A/N: Hi reader! This is my second fanfic I've posted. Again, it's a one-shot. Again it's about Hamilton! This time it's based on a spoken scene from the show that's not in the cast album, in which Hamilton received a letter from Laurens' dad. The genius annotations for this scene say that A. Ham wrote a letter before he heard from John's dad saying he wanted to keep working with Laurens... **tries desperately not to give spoilers while explaining the inspiration for the fic** ... so yeah, for the people like me who don't stand a chance at seeing the show, I thought I'd try to recreate the moment!

Obviously i am not Lin Manuel Miranda, and I have no claim to Hamilton at all.

Alexander couldn't stop grinning, nor could he find reason to. Finally he had returned home, victorious in freeing the nation which had taken him in from the tyrannical rule of Britain and ecstatic to see his only child for the first time, sleeping peacefully as the proud new father watched the innocent smile on his lips and the small rise and fall of his chest. Now he was leaving the nursery as, despite his longing to absorb the sight of little Philip Hamilton, he feared waking him.

In the hall outside, Eliza stood, waiting for her husband to leave their son but unwilling to disturb their first meeting by calling him out to her. Hamilton didn't notice the creases in her brow as he dashed towards her, the intelligent, kind, beautiful woman who had helped create the wonderful boy he already adored with every inch of his being. He held her face in both hands as he brought his lips to hers, smiling into the passionate kiss, letting his joy spread throughout his body and infecting Eliza with it until she was laughing as his kisses melted her worry away.

"I take it you're happy about being a father, then?" She gasped, smirking, when they finally broke away from each other.

Alex closed his eyes as his lips pushed together in a smile, slowly shaking his head in dazed disbelief. When he looked back at Eliza there were tears of delight in his eyes as he sighed contentedly, "You have no idea..."

He was silent for a moment, still awestruck by meeting Philip. But then he grabbed his wife by the waist and lifted her up, spinning her around and making her squeal with surprise as he eagerly repeated, "You have no idea! I'm a father! And of the most perfect son in the world!"

"Alexander! Don't shout, you'll wake him," Eliza protested, giggling as she chastised him.

"Fine, fine," he muttered as he set the woman down and turned away from her, attempting to fake annoyance and failing terribly due to the tell-tale smile he couldn't remove.

Eliza rolled her eyes, disapproving as always at the way he could be so childish. But of course it didn't change her love for him or how happy she was, both at being a new mother and at having her beloved husband return safely from the war.

"Alexander, supper's almost ready," she warned, certain that the temptation of a real meal would put a stop to his sulking.

Instead the news seemed to remind him of how busy he was, as immediately he turned back to Eliza and took her hand. "My love, I will join you soon, I just need to write a few letters first." He placed a kiss on her hand, letting his lips linger there for a few seconds as he looked up and held eye contact. She had been about to protest, but his action silenced her, making her blush as she felt a rush of desire. When he rose again and walked away she was left staring after him. It was only when Hamilton reached the door to his office that he remembered where he had learned from his personal experience the crippling affect that the royal-kiss-and-eye-contact could have on your intentions: John Laurens had done it to him just a few weeks ago...

My dearest, sir, John Laurens,

I am writing to let you know I have returned home safely to my wife and son, both of whom delight and astound me just as much as my friendship with you does. And also to say that it is my friendship with you, my brave companion, which reassures and comforts me in the face of a future which is guaranteed to be bright, only if you and I work together to forge an entrance for the light. You see, the bond we share is one I feel could not be broken even by death. After the victory we share with our brothers as we emerge from times of war, I foresee further success for our nation which you and I shall bring about. I can barely imagine how much work we'll have to do, but knowing I can share it with a man I have already shared so much of myself with compels me to face the challenges head-on and never back down. I swear to you, John, our partnership will achieve greatness and this is something I will not shy away from.

I eagerly await seeing you again,

Your Alexander Hamilton.

Hamilton set down his pen as he completed the letter. Usually he wrote quickly, yet the letter to Laurens had seemed to take an age to write. He had to restrain himself from writing the words which floated in his mind, desperate to be confessed: that he adored Laurens just as he adored his wife, that he longed to be beside him, pressed against him, caressing him, again. He closed his eyes and thought back to the first night they'd shared...

Since they met, John had always been a flirt. But they were spending more and more time together, and for much of that time they were alone... then one evening, as both men were just finishing their writing for the day, Laurens had leaned over the desk, disturbing Hamilton, who was sat opposite him and looked up at him as he moved, and held his gaze as he slowly dipped his quill in the other man's pot of ink. Alexander made some stupid joke about it, but instead of laughing Laurens had simply smirked and lifted his eyebrows suggestively. Hamilton stuttered, making John laugh - a sound too innocent to come from a man with a face that caused even happily married men to want him. He simply replied, "You know what I want. If you want me, too," he paused to take Alexander's hand and plant his lips on it, keeping eye contact all the while, before straightening up and going towards the door, "come find me." He finished without a backwards glance as he exited the room, leaving Hamilton longing for him despite himself...

Alexander shook his head, trying to discard the memory. His son was next door, his wife downstairs. He loved both to death... but that didn't mean he didn't love John Laurens too. Even so, it felt wrong to be thinking about cheating on Eliza when she was just a floor away, and clearly just as besotted with him as he was with her. For the first time in his life there was something he couldn't explain: his love of both his wife and Laurens separately but simultaneously.

"Alexander, come downstairs!" Eliza called to him. He smiled warmly at the sweet, comforting voice, then smirked at her hypocrisy: she thought his talking about being a father could wake Philip, but she was allowed to call upstairs as loud as she wanted? He shook his head and left the office, heading downstairs quickly to prevent her from shouting up to him again.

Alexander entered the dining room, where Eliza was sat, running a letter through her fingers, a distracted look on her face. This time her husband recognized her concern and swiftly strode across the room to stand behind her, leaning over her to press a kiss into her hair and draping his arms around her as he murmured, "What's that, my love?"

His touch didn't do anything to ease the tension in her body, and she quietly replied, "It's a letter for you. From South Carolina."

"Mmm," Hamilton mused, "it must be from Laurens."

He let his mind wander into what the letter might contain: a declaration of Laurens' undying love; a request to see him again, to be together with Alexander one more time; perhaps even his memories of that night when Hamilton had first followed John to his living quarters to be met with a knowing smirk and the announcement that he knew he would come, Laurens closing the limited space between them and pushing their bodies together, desperately devouring the other man's lips with his own.

Hamilton felt the blood rising to his cheeks and quickly cut off that line of thought, straightening up and briskly saying, "I'll read it later." If there was even a chance that the letter contained the kind of details he fantasized about, he couldn't possibly read it around his wife. It was never his intention to hurt her, so as long as she didn't find out that he had strayed, she'd be fine.

Hamilton walked around the table to his seat. When he sat, Eliza continued in the same worried tone, "This isn't his handwriting."

Alexander sighed, half disappointed, half relieved: as much as he wanted to hear from his lover, he knew that writing anything about their time together would be dangerous for both men. Still, knowing that it couldn't contain anything he'd want to hide from Eliza, he asked, "Read it to me?"

Eliza silently opened the letter and unfolded it, clearing her throat before reading:

"General Hamilton,

I trust this letter finds you in good health. In fact, the fact that this letter is reaching you confirms that you are in better health than my son, your trusted comrade and friend, John Laurens. For you see, Hamilton, I regret having to tell you that Laurens was killed in a skirmish with retreating British soldiers. I know he spoke highly of you, so I thought it was only fair to inform you of his death. I wish he could have seen the nation he fought for rise to greatness, but it seems he has not lived to see our glory.

Henry Laurens."

Eliza looked up from the letter, her face pale with shock. She tried to pretend she didn't notice the tears in Hamilton's eyes in some attempt to protect his dignity, but she couldn't ignore them when they changed from pools to waterfalls which tumbled down his face. She reached a hand out to hold one of his, but he flinched away.

"Ph - Philip," he stammered, "I should check on Philip."

He rushed out of the room, and immediately fell against the hallway wall when he couldn't force his weak legs to take him any further. He bit hard on his lip, desperate to hide his sobs from Eliza. All at once, every single memory from those brief nights they had shared came rushing into the foreground of his mind, each fleeting moment lasting barely a second before the next replaced it - Laurens resting his head against his chest and gazing up at him lovingly, his hands running over the other man's toned chest, soft pliant lips moving in rhythm with his own, hands grasping at his hair, buttons flying across the room as he tore Laurens' shirt, the rush of cold air when a new area of skin was revealed, that knowing smirk Laurens had worn that first night, the way his heart seemed to expand when he saw his lover, the soft touch of Laurens' fingertips as he brushed his lover's scars, the way the other man's lips parted as he gasped when they broke apart from kissing...

And then it hit him that he would never see any of that again.

He staggered to the stairs and stumbled up them, then dashed to his office and slammed the door. His eyes fell on the letter he had written just minutes before, and he decided to read it again.

"A future which is guaranteed to be bright, only if you and I work together to forge an entrance for the light," he murmured quietly.

He heard Eliza call up to him, "Alexander, please come down. You need to eat!"

Hamilton shook his head, and called back in his broken voice, "I don't have time." To himself he muttered through his tears, "I have so much work to do."

A/N well, thanks for reading! Yeah, Laurens died tragically. In fact, it's speculated that part of the reason Alex worked so hard was because he planned to reach his goals with 2 people working on them, not just himself... this historical nugget of information gave me so many feels!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this!