Counterpoint

Chapter 42

Jefferson

   God damn that Hamilton! I can't believe he was childish enough to actually throw scalding hot coffee on me. His laughter is carrying up the stairs and it only heightens my fury with the man. I quickly slide off my pants and rush through the hallway towards the bathroom. "Fuck you Hamilton!" I shout down the stairs as I pass.

   "I'm sorry!"

   "Sorry my ass." I mutter, filling the tub with cold water. My clothes litter the floor as the water rises. I hiss as the cold water strikes my skin, aggravating the fresh burn on my skin. I grit my teeth and turn off the water. A harsh breath escapes me as I lean back against the back wall of the tub.

   A soft knock taps against the door which I ignore as I slide my eyes shut. Another louder knock sounds and I can hear Hamilton sigh from the other side of the door.

   "I know you're in there Jefferson. Ignoring me won't change anything." I grip onto the side of the tub harshly as his words grate against my nerves harshly. The simple sound of his voice acting like salt in my wound.

   "Would it allow you to leave me in peace?"

   "When have I ever done that?" He replies after a thoughtful pause. "I just wanted to apologize." 

   "Apologize later then." I snap, sinking down further into the water raising goosebumps over the expanse of my skin. Faintly I can hear the sound of bitter grumbling before the door is thrown open and I jolt in surprise, hissing in pain from the sudden movement. "What in the hell do you think you are doing Hamilton?"

   "Just wanted to assess the damage." He replies simply, looking directly into my eyes without a trace of shame or humility about the situation. 

   "More like you came to admire your good work." I grumble, dropping his gaze. "I am not in the mood to appease your childlike tendencies at the moment." 

   "Shut up Thomas." He mumbles as he walks further into the bathroom and takes a seat on the ground beside the tub. I glance at him curiously, a small grin tugs at the corner of my lips as the use of my first name doesn't pass unnoticed. He sits with his back straight and his hands resting in his lap as he keeps his eyes focused on my face. It would appear that the situation has finally sank into his mind, as has its awkwardness.

   "Thomas, is it?" I ask faintly. 

   "Don't overthink everything." He mutters. "You'll make me not regret burning your dick." 

   "You know, just for that, I hope that this burn makes it impossible for me to go to work tomorrow or even for several days."

   "What purpose would that serve?" he asks quizzically.

   "It would serve the purpose of amusing me as I lay in bed and imagine you explaining to Washington and the other members of congress as to why I am not present." His face colors significantly as his mind runs away with him and the thought of such a predicament. "I can only wonder how you would choose to start such an explanation, or how you would explain the motivation behind your actions." 

   "Let...Let us be hopeful that it isn't so severe." he whispers. I fight against the urge to sigh as I look at his ever somber expression. He always takes my taunts so seriously. As amusing as it would be to have him explain to Washington why I would be walking funny for the next couple of days I wouldn't dare to place him in such a situation for multiple reasons. The most pressing reason would be my knowledge of his pride and how viciously it tends to strike back against anyone who dares to tarnish it in any way. 

   "Wipe that remorseful look off your face, it's freaking me out." I mutter. 

   "I truly am sorry." He murmurs. 

   "You shouldn't have thrown scalding coffee on my dick." I can't help but grumble in annoyance. "An apology doesn't undo the damage that was caused by your recklessness." 

   "I know it doesn't mean much, nor can it take back what has already transpired." He whispers softly, drawing my full and undivided attention back to him. His eyes are downcast, staring down directly into his lap as his lips continue to utter softly. "My embarrassment, amusement, and stupidity got the better of me. The intent to harm you was never present, I want you to understand that. I merely wanted to have some fun with you and I got carried away in my pursuit. I sincerely apologize for what I have done to you." 

   "Christ." I sigh before leaning over the side of the tub and laying my chin on my arm, peering at the repentant man that can't seem to bring himself to look at me. "You must think me a rather brutish man if you have to be so lavish in your apologies." He meets my gaze with a rather quizzical expression. I smile at him in return. "With that apology it sounded more like you were attempting to suck my dick than apologize for burning it."  I chuckle as he gapes like a fish at my remark.

   "The one time I try to be sincere with you and you..." he looks away from me as his eyes begin to grow steely. His bottom lip dips inward slightly as he sinks his teeth into it. I tilt my head slightly as I admire his angry profile before he finally turns back to look at me with piercing eyes, full of fire. "Why must you always ruin my attempts at civility?"

   "I don't want your civility." I reply simply. "The Hamilton I know isn't always civil. I don't want a perfect politician living with me, that's why I invited you here. I want you to be you, no one else. This genteel civility act that you are trying to pull isn't working, so knock it off." 

   "You really are a dick, you know that?"

   "You should be grateful that I still possess mine."

   "It was coffee, not a cauterizing blade."

   "It might as well been with how fucking hot it was." I protest. "How do you not singe your throat when you drink that?"

   "Years of practice." He replies with a faint smile. "Some of us don't shy away from a little heat." 

   "I forgot you cubans are used to the heat." I reply with a cheeky grin.

   "I'm going to get you a fucking map! For someone who is supposed to be so well versed in the geography of the world you are too dense to recognize the difference between the Caribbean islands and fucking Cuba!"

   "I had only ever been to France and England." I cut in, but my words do nothing to halt the raging flow of his words. I can't help the smile that dawns on me as I close my eyes and listen to him rant on and on about how ignorant I am and that he was born on Nevis and not in Havana. He is so easy to stir up into a fit of rage like this, it is so simple and so blinding for him that he fails to recognize a simple tease when he hears it. This particular fault of his doesn't displease me in the slightest if I am to answer with complete honesty, it is simply another facet of his personality and it has become something rather dear to me. 

   "Are you even fucking listening?"

   "Not in the slightest."

   "You bastard!"

   "Gracias señor." I answer with a chuckle. 

   "I don't speak fucking Spanish! I should drown you in this tub." 

    "Kinky."

   "God fucking damn it!"