Archive of Our Own ^beta

John had been pacing nervously in his apartment, the one he shared with Alex, for the past hour, waiting for Alex to come home. It was six in the evening, the sun only just touching the horizon and warning that it would be setting soon enough, and to be fair, John was worried. It was almost routine that Alex arrived home late, but he always called ahead to make sure John didn’t panic. His boyfriend had been expected home an hour ago and he was nowhere to be seen.

He wouldn’t return John’s texts or calls, and the last person to see him had been Washington, who’d told him, “He muttered a goodbye at me and left. He didn’t seem high in spirits, but I assumed he’d gone straight home.”

“Thank you, sir,” John had said politely, frustrated that even Alex’s boss didn’t know where he was.

The doorknob jiggled frantically and John whipped his head over to the door and crossed the room in long strides. He flung the door open and there stood Alex.

John tried to stay cool, the casual words leaving his mouth even before he could register fully Alex’s demeanor. “Hey, how was wo — what the actual fuck?”

Alex held up his phone to John’s face, the screen shattered to pieces, and grimaced. “I’m having what some would call a ‘Bad Day’.”

“It — it really looks like it,” John confessed, admitting Alex into the apartment and shutting the door. “What in the name of God happened to you?”

It was a valid question, and Alex’s appearance was no reassurance. There were strands of grass mixed in with his hair, giving it an unusually rough look, not to mention his hair was mussed up, and not in a sexy way. He was dripping wet, soaked to the bone. Dirt smudged across his cheekbones and his nose, and he appeared to have claw marks on his arm, although the mud might have been obscuring his perception. Honestly, the claw marks were kind of sexy, but John kept that thought to himself.

“You will not believe the day I’ve had,” Alex grumbled, dropping his work bag on the floor and falling into an armchair. John bit his tongue to avoid scolding Alex for potentially dirtying their furniture — he was sure that was the last thing Alex needed right now.

“I bet I’ll believe it. Hit me,” John said, sitting on the couch and facing him.

Alex took a breath and John braced himself for the long story he knew was about to come.

“First things first, I’m late for work this morning because the fucking coffee place is more packed than usual because some bus broke down, like, right across the street, and it’s cold and everyone wants coffee,” Alex began. “I have to wait an extra seven minutes for my coffee, yes , I counted, and when I get to the office obviously I apologize profusely. Washington is okay about it, because he’s Washington, but fucking Jefferson just won’t let it go. ‘Why were you late, Hamilton?’ ‘Cheating on John, Hamilton?’ ‘Tardiness is a bad trait in politicians and government officials, Hamilton, maybe you should just resign.’ I swear I wanted to punch him. But,” he added, holding up a hand as John was prepared to voice his concern, “I refrained, so that I wouldn’t tarnish my reputation any more.”

“I’m glad,” John said, relieved.

“You haven’t heard the end of the story,” Alex muttered. He started up again. “So I’m already having a shitty day from the start, but then I get through my workload just fine, even get a little bit ahead, and it’s ten minutes before five and I’m putting my stuff away and Jefferson stops by my office. I’m like ‘What the fuck do you want, Jefferson’ and he has this stupid shit-eating smirk on as he says ‘Leaving early? You going to meet your secret fuckbuddy? Come on, Hamilton, we’re all friends here’ —”

“This doesn’t end well,” John predicted.

“ — and I just punched his stupid face,” Alex finished. “He fell backwards — guess he’s not used to being punched, but even if I get in trouble, it was totally worth it. I gave him a split lip and a bruise on his cheek. The look on his face was the highlight of my day, although that’s not really saying much, since my day was terrible.”

John didn’t interrupt. He wanted to tell Alex off for slugging Jefferson, but truth be told, Jefferson definitely deserved it. If there was one person John wished awful things upon, aside from maybe his father, it was Thomas Jefferson.

“So anyway,” Alex said, readjusting his position in the arm chair. John hid his cringe. There was an obvious streak of dirt on the armrest now, but he kept quiet about it. “I’m feeling great, Jefferson has staggered off, I’m just putting the last of my papers back in my drawers and I get a paper cut. A motherfucking paper cut.” Alex held his hand out to John and showed him a spot at the bottom of his palm, just above his wrist, where a small line indicated a paper cut. “Paper cuts don’t even hurt that much. They’re just annoying. Like Jefferson, actually,” he added as an afterthought. “So I grab my shit, shove it in my bag, and storm out of there. I passed Washington on my way out, but I didn’t feel like explaining my pissy mood, so I just left. And naturally, it was raining outside.” John remembered it had rained earlier. He remembered thinking it would’ve sucked for Alex to have to get home in this weather. He’d arrived home just as the storm had broken, and luckily it wasn’t a big storm, not enough to induce a panic attack, but surely Alex didn’t need that kind of stress in his life, John thought. He was right.

"I don’t have a ride home, naturally, since I always walk, so I call Herc and ask if he can give me a ride. He says he’s busy and he’s sorry. I call Laf — same deal. I thought about calling you, but we don’t have a car anyway. So I decide to take the metro, right?” Alex looks like he’s waiting for John to validate this decision, and John nods affirmatively.

“Naturally.”

“Okay, so I scan my card only to find that I don’t have any money left. I put a few bucks on it, scan it again, and as soon as I’m at the train I find out the train is under repairs or some shit and it isn’t working. So I can’t take the goddamn train. By now it’s, like, ten after five. I realize I should call you, because I don’t want you to worry, so I take out my phone to call and it fucking falls on the fucking floor.” Alex was agitated now, and he got out of the chair and started to pace, tracing steps John had been walking few minutes before. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tossed it onto the couch beside John. “That thing is pretty much indestructible,” he said seriously. “But I guess the universe chose this day to hate me specifically, because it just shattered. I tried to turn it on but the display was all wonky and fucked up, and then I got so mad because it was already broken anyway that I hurled it at the wall.” Alex heaved a deep sigh. “So I need a new phone.”

John turned over the broken cell in his hands carefully. “Yeah, you do,” he agreed. “But how did you end up —”

“John, I love you dearly, but my patience has been tested time and again today and I just need you to be patient with me now,” Alex said, his voice betraying slight impatience indeed. “I will get to the whole story.”

“Okay, alright,” John surrendered. “Go ahead.”

Alex closed his eyes, breathed deeply, like it pained him to think about the rest of his day, then opened his eyes and said, “So I figure, what the fuck, I’ll just walk.”

John nodded.

“The security guard was giving no fucks so I jumped the goddamn turnstile to get back over it and then left the station. Still pouring obviously. So there I am, walking along the sidewalk in the pouring fucking rain and I’m kind of looking at the ground so I don’t get the rain in my eyes, you know? And I have my work bag kind of under my sweatshirt, but I’m not exactly watching where I’m going. And this little kid,” — Alex clenched his teeth together here and John almost would have laughed at his anger if he hadn’t been, well, angry — “this little motherfucker runs right in front of me and doesn’t give a shit that I’m walking there. I trip on this kid, he’s probably like three or four years old, and I kind of lurch to the side as I fall so I don’t fucking crash on the concrete and I get all gross and covered in dirt and mud and grass — hence the appearance — and this little kid, this little son of a bitch is just laughing. It took all my willpower and I channeled some of your willpower too not to smack him in the kisser, because I swear to god, I wanted to punch him more than I wanted to punch Jefferson,” Alex said in a low, tight voice, as if remembering the incident is tantamount to reliving it.

“Whoa,” John said. “Slow down now. Don’t get too crazy.”

“Shut up,” Alex said, swatting at John. “The mom of the kid comes over and apologizes a fafillion times, but I don’t give a fuck, and I think she can tell I’ve had a bad day because she just leaves me alone. How a good mother like that could produce such a devil of a child, I have no idea, but anyway, that’s how I ended up like this. I have a bruise from the goddamn grass and I feel itchy all over.”

“I am so sorry,” John started to say, but Alex interrupted him one more time.

“Wait! There was the one other thing! You see this?” Alex scrubbed away some of the caked dirt on his arm over the supposed claw marks, and it turned out they actually were claw marks. They were bright pink and looked new and inflamed. John sucked in a breath.

“Yikes, that looks like it hurt. What happened?”

“Okay, so after this kid thing, I’m this close to home, my paper cut is stinging, my fist hurts a little from slugging Jefferson, my phone is smashed to bits, I’m drenched, I’m covered in grass and mud and I feel gross, and the universe just throws one more awful disaster at me and puts a hyperactive dog on the fucking sidewalk.” Alex got more agitated the more he spoke, gesturing greatly with his hands in a bemusing manner. “The dog is jumping up and down like crazy and the owner is trying to get it back on a leash, and then it sees me, lunges for me, and I step out of the way quickly but it gets me right here. What the fuck .” Alex seemed exhausted now, drained of his story about his Bad Day, and he dropped once more into the armchair. “So. That’s my terrible day. And then I got home, and now I am going to go take a shower.”

John took a moment and absorbed the story, then summed it up by saying, “It sounds like today was your Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day.”

Alex punched him lightly in the shoulder. “I’m only allowing that because my name is actually in the title, so it works. I guess so.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re home and safe now,” John said, standing up and kissing Alex’s cheek. “And once you get cleaned up I’ll kiss you for real, because you had me worried sick.”

“Sorry about that,” Alex said, and despite everything, he did sound sorry.

“It’s okay, baby, just go get cleaned up, you must be dying inside.”

“I will. Oh, and I swear I’ll clean off the chair after I shower,” Alex added as he headed off the the bathroom. “I know you’re a stickler about that.”

“I am not —”

“We’ve lived together for like five years, John, I know you hate when I get the furniture gross,” Alex called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the room off the hall.

John settled back into the couch, closed his eyes, and breathed with relief. His boyfriend was safe and relatively unscathed. There wasn’t really anything else John needed.