“You, Senator, are literally the worst person on the face of the planet,” Hamilton’s saying, energy thrumming through his small body. John’s transfixed, of course, even from hundreds of miles away, and he tries desperately to keep a smile from overtaking his face. “I hope to God Elon Musk puts you on one of his bad rockets and blows it up in orbit and makes your remains rain down upon the Earth to fertilize the rainforests so you’d actually do something useful in your life.”
Senator Jefferson’s eye visibly twitches. His jaw and his grin are equally tight. “If I remember correctly, Secretary Hamilton,” he says, his voice strained, “we’re here to discuss the Washington administration’s misguided and unnecessary stimulus package—“
“Yeah, and I’m saying that maybe if you got put on one of Elon Musk’s bad rockets and blew up in orbit and had your remains scatter upon the Earth to fertilize the rainforests instead of trying to filibuster this bill to death, then you’d actually help this fucking country—“
“Okay, and maybe I’m saying that it’s stupid as hell, which is where you’re going when you die, you dumb piece of shit—“
Angelica’s voice quickly comes in through John’s earpiece. “Fucking cut to commercial before they get us fined again!”
He kinda doesn’t want to, what with the absolute storm brewing in Hamilton’s eyes, but he supposes that maintaining some decorum on cable news is important enough. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says quite genuinely, “but we’ve gotta take a quick commercial break. Secretary Hamilton, Senator Jefferson, thank you as always for joining us.”
“You’re very welcome, John,” Hamilton says, the storm in his eyes suddenly clearing as he grins. John could get lost in that, too.
Jefferson just nods and says a curt, “Of course.”
They wait for Angelica to confirm that the broadcast’s off before Hamilton’s glaring at his screen again. “This isn’t fucking over, Thomas.”
“Yes, it is,” Jefferson says, glaring back. Never mind that they’re both already booked to appear again tomorrow, when they’ll probably go right back to yelling at each other. (John has all sorts of thoughts about the news functioning as entertainment, but he’s not gonna lie—he always looks forward to seeing Hamilton’s face on the other side of the call.) Then Jefferson schools his expression into something a little more politically appropriate. “Thank you again, Mr. Laurens,” he adds, and then he’s out.
John and Hamilton each let out a sigh.
“What an asshat,” Hamilton says.
John snorts and rolls his eyes. “Well, that’s why we have him on.”
Hamilton gasps in mock offense. “Is that why you have me on, Mr. Laurens?” he asks through a grin.
“I don’t know, Mr. Secretary.” John’s smile widens. “Maybe I just like to look at you.”
Hamilton laughs, and it’s such a beautiful sound. “Can’t blame you for that,” he says. “I am pretty hot.”
John has to snort again. Ignores the way both of their faces are going pink. “You were supposed to be, like, ‘Ayy, thanks, not too bad yourself,’ or something.”
“Ha! No, I can do you one better.” Hamilton’s grin turns sly; John vaguely hears Angelica say there’s 60 seconds till the break’s over. “Mind treating me to coffee next time you’re in DC?”
John’s eyes widen. His mouth goes dry. And his smile’s getting so wide it almost aches. “Mr. Secretary—”
“Alex, please.”
“Alex,” John says, the feel of his name good on his tongue. He feels his face burn. “Dinner. And you’re treating.”
Angelica says 30 seconds as Alex chuckles. “Dutch or no deal.”
“Oh my god,” John says, his lips twitching. “Fine. We’re going Dutch, then.”
Alex laughs again—more of a giggle, honestly, with how giddy it is. “I’m looking forward to it, John,” he says, his voice low, and this time the way he says his name sends a shiver down John’s spine.
15 seconds, and John’s dipping his own voice low. “See you then… Alex.”
10 seconds, and he sees Alex’s face go red right before he signs off.
5 seconds, and he wonders if he can get away with skipping tomorrow’s broadcast to go to DC.