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Once Repeated (Aaron Burr x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, cheating, angsty smut
A/N: Timeline is after the Reynolds Pamphlet was published
Words: 2,097
Pairing: Aaron Burr x Reader, Alexander Hamilton x Reader
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Alexander sleeps in his office.

You stare at the bed the two of you once shared, crawling to the head of it, folding your knees to her chest. There is an aching in your stomach, your chest - a churning sense of distance. You lay down slowly, take one pillow and press it to your face, breathing in through your nose. Whatever is left of that woman doesn't linger any longer.

The tears sting in the corners of your eyes and you shift, resting the pillow back and taking a moment to make the bed. You dress quickly, not sparing yourself a glance in the vanity mirror before you pause outside of Alexander's office.

"I'm going out for the night," you say.

He looks at you.

He looks at you and you look away.

Somehow, he's not naive enough to ask you where you're going. He just licks his lips, nods slowly.

You, despite everything, want to step into the room and run your fingers through his hair, tell him to bathe before he goes to sleep.

You bite your lip instead, thinks about that ache that still lingers where your heart is, begging you to leave.

Alexander nods and looks back at his desk. You take that moment and turns around, the tightness unknotting in you for a brief moment as you open and close the front door.

The walk is short, and you only have a few minutes to ponder how you might have reacted if only he had told you privately, holding your hand, begging for you to love him still.
You think about the people in the square, whispering about the great Alexander Hamilton and his heartbroken wife, Y/N Hamilton.

His poor, loyal wife.

What would happen to you if you hired a divorce lawyer?

You would never. You love that man like nothing else.

But you'll still be heartbroken.

You're not a woman to hold a grudge.

You approach your destination, rap your knuckles against the door and waits.

Aaron Burr shows up after a pause. You know you could turn around, go home, retreat.
You hadn't wanted to believe, at first, when Alexander said he was being blackmailed, accused of embezzling.

Aaron Burr was one of those men who cornered him, he said.

You remember biting back at him, I'm sick of your excuses. Get out of this house.

He had left, and come back home early in the morning, sometime near four if you were counting the hours properly. Sleeping alone is difficult.

Burr tilts his chin up. "Mrs. Hamilton."

"No," you say. "Don't call me that," you whisper.

He smirks. "Ms. L/N?"

You glare at him. "Do you hold any accountability? Any at all?"

Burr takes a step back and you step into his house. "Accountability for your dearest Alexander's infidelity?"

You give a sharp shake of your head and look at him again, eyes narrowed. The hallway is dimly lit. Burr holds a lamp. It illuminates his jawline. You had always found him beautiful.

"His infidelity should have been a private matter," you say after a moment.

"And are you here just to chide your neighbor for wondering if your husband could do wrong?"