Chapter Text
Washington lifted his gaze from his work, watching with worried eyes as Alexander covered a yawn with his left hand. His right one scribbled away, the quill flying on a piece of paper, sentences after sentences forming.
It was a letter to Congress, asking for more supplies. Again. Washington sighed. Alexander always poured his soul into these requests, but they never sent anything, instead replying with lousy excuses and sharp demands. Washington doubted they’d send anything this time either, but they really were desperate. No one had had a proper meal in weeks, and even though they hadn't engaged in any battles for a while, they were still weak.
That was why Alexander was committing all of his waking hours for work, Washington supposed. After all, he had nothing else to do, and it seemed like an outlet of stress for the boy.
Still, Washington was worried. Alexander hadn't been eating well before the food shortage, and after it he had been giving up his portions for his fellow soldiers, insisting that 'they needed it more than he did'.
A quiet sigh pulled Washington from his thoughts. He glanced back at his documents, but couldn't keep his eyes off of Alexander as the younger furrowed his eyebrows, massaging his temples. Washington could see his left hand - keeping his letter in place - shaking. His right one was steady mostly due to its tenseness.
Washington shook his head. This man needed a break.
✮
Alexander’s head pounded as he blinked, trying to remove the blurriness of his eyes. A cold chill creeped in his bones, causing him to shiver. Or it might've also been the exhaustion, or the ever-lasting, now numb hunger.
None of that mattered. Alexander shook his head slightly, closing his eyes for a while as the motion made him dizzy. Refocusing, he supported his head with his hand as he continued his letter to Congress. This was his best one yet, in his opinion. Anything to get some help for his friends.
"-er! Alexander!" a sharp voice made Alexander's head jerk up, startling him. Oh yeah, Washington. Alexander stumbled with his words for a while before choking out a few.
"Yes, sir?" he asked, clearing his throat. He could feel Washington's piercing gaze at him, and his eyes moved past the general, off to the side.
To his surprise however, Washington's tone was gentle. "Alexander, how does a break sound like?"
"A... break?" Alexander asked, blinking as confusion took over his features. "But I still, still need to finish this letter and- and work on the documents from yesterday, I wouldn't like to fall behind."
Washington sighed, crossing his arms. "C'mon Alexander, you've worked enough for today. Let's get you some lunch, what do you say?"
Just the simple mention of food made Alexander nauseous. He bit his lip, trying to not focus on his overwhelming headache. "I don't- I'm not sure, sir, I-"
"Alexander, son-"
"-am not your son."
"-just rest for a while, won't you?" Washington finished his sentence, ignoring Alexander's mumbled protest. Alexander contemplated it. He wanted to rest, but he felt like he was on a roll with the letter, and he would loathe himself if he would pass up an opportunity to help the others.
"I assure you that won't be necessary, sir," Alexander said. Or he thought he said, anyways. It was all a little confusing when your skull was being ripped apart.
✮
Alexander mumbled something along the lines of 'I don't need rest', but Washington wasn't exactly sure what he had said. After all, his words had been blurred, melting together as Alexander slowly blinked, his eyes bleary. Washington's worry only heightened when Alexander groaned, closed his eyes and ran a hand across his hair.
Washington stood up, but the other didn't seem to register it, his eyes still tightly shut. Washington walked over to Alexander, placing a hand on his aide-de-camp's neck.
Just as he had suspected. Washington sighed, his brows furrowing with even more worry as he compared Alexander's temperature to his.
"Son," he started, but stopped as Alexander hummed - or rather groaned - in disagreement. "Alex, you're burning up."
"Mmm," Alexander answered, leaning into Washington's cool touch. He seemed to have dozed off before he opened his eyes again, flinching at the bright lights. Blinking a few times, he seemed to remember where he was. With a start, he pulled away, his gaze flickering away in embarrassment. "I- I apologize. That- that wasn't- I-"
Washington interrupted Alexander by lifting a hand. Alexander nodded, lowering his head, his hands fiddling with the buttons of his jacket.
"You have a fever, don't you?" Washington asked, and Alexander looked up with surprise. This clearly wasn't what he had expected to hear.
"Whuh- what?" he stammered. Then, he looked away again, guilty. "I- I can still work."
"That wasn’t my question," Washington made sure to keep his tone stern but gentle. His intention wasn't to scold Alexander, after all. "You should really learn to take care of yourself, y'know?"
Alexander just stared at him for a while, his eyelids slowly falling shut. Washington sighed as he nudged Alexander, who snapped awake, groaning.
"Let's get you to bed," the general suggested, and Alexander didn't need to be told twice, stumbling out of his chair. Washington catched him with another sigh, leading the half-asleep boy to his sleeping quarters.
Alexander collapsed onto his bed, his eyelids fluttering shut. Washington got up, started leaving, but then he felt small, weak fingers wrap around his arm. Washington turned around, and Alexander mumbled two words before falling asleep.
"Stay. Please."
Washington did.