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Sometimes, Hancock really hated Congress. He really, really did. Being president was boring at best, and all he ever wanted to do was sleep. Hadn't he done enough for the founding of America? Apparently not, seeing as he'd been forced into this dumb role. John Adams was loud, Dickinson was delusional, Rutledge was... like that, Jefferson was so insufferably silent he may as well have not existed, Lee was somehow louder, New York was useless, and New Jersey was entirely absent! He felt as though he was going crazy the longer he sat in this stuffy room.
He almost dared to say there were no perks, but...
"Mr. President? You called for adjournment, and yet you have remained in your seat."
A curly head of hair and a blue coat drew John out of his head, and he sighed softly. He sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Charles... Please, it's just us. No need for formalities."
Oh, his sweet secretary... Charles always got so red and flustered when John dared call him by his given name.
"Apologies, sir... just... it's late. And I want to go home. And I can't do that without you." He nervously scratched his jaw, eyes fixed onto some distant spot on the floor. John stood up and winced at the creak of his joints, before slinging his coat over his arm and putting his hat on with little care.
"Come, let's walk home. Who knows when it'll be of actually inhabitable temperatures again?" Charles glanced up at John with a little huff, which was about as close to a laugh as anyone ever got out of him. John could probably count on one hand how many times he'd heard Charles really laugh.
They walked in companionable silence, all the way to John's room. It wasn't a far walk, but the distance felt greater the longer he couldn't take Charles' hand in his. When they reached his door, he fumbled with his keys with shaking hands for a moment. Gentle, soft hands took the keys from him, and he could only look on fondly as Charles opened the door for him.
"What would I do without you?"
It came out softer, more reverent than he'd intended, but it was no less sincere. Charles' face flushed warmly and he nudged John inside.
"I suppose you'd be sleeping on the steps." He huffed, and yet he diligently untied John's cravat. Their nightly ritual of undressing each other. began, gentle hands and few words. Charles took one of John's old shirts to sleep in, as always, and John entirely discarded his own. John flopped into his bed first, splayed out of his back with a groan. Charles climbed in after him and tucked himself against John's side, his head on John's shoulder and a leg slung over the President's hip.
Charles hummed softly as John toyed with his hair, untying the ribbon keeping it back.
"Do you think we'll burn in Hell for this, Charlie?" John murmured, only half-joking.
"I think we'll burn in Hell for a lot of things. What's one more reason?"
It got a laugh from John, soft and low and warm. His lovely secretary and his dry humour, it was so unlike anyone else he knew. He felt a nudge against his side and he looked down at Charles curiously. He looked to be thinking, his lower lip stuck out in a pout.
"Yes, Charlie? What's the matter?"
"...Do you regret this? Having me?"
John let out a startled little noise and then he made a huffy one, hand tangling in Charles' hair and tugging it lightly.
"Don't be silly, Charlie. Why would I?"
"Well... you just... you always seem so concerned about what'll happen to us after life, and I worry that maybe you... regret this..."
John sat up and pulled Charles into his lap with a frown, his brows furrowed. He hadn't... that wasn't the impression he'd ever meant to give. Perhaps he'd brought it up too much? Charles did tend to take things a bit too literally...
"My dear boy, I never intended that... I'm sorry, Charles. I could never regret loving you, dear. Please... don't ever doubt my affections for you."
Charles made an odd little noise, wet and watery. It took John a moment to register that he was crying, and then he panicked a bit. He never had gotten good at comforting others.
Charles sniffled and rubbed his eyes.
"S-sorry... You know I cry a lot. Don't worry. I'm sorry."
"Shh... don't apologise, love. Come, relax against me, okay? Just like that..." John murmured, his fingers carding through Charles' curls gently. Slowly, Charles relaxed against him with a hum, rubbing his face against John's shoulder.
"Are you tired, dear? You can sleep. You've been working so hard lately..."
They curled up together under the blankets, arms tangled and limbs pressing against one another. Tomorrow would bring more yelling, more insufferable men, more reasons for John to vanish into the woods without a trace.
But he supposed that Charles was a good enough reason to stick around. Or he would at least bring his secretary with him when he ran away.
Whatever happened, he wouldn't be leaving one Charles Thomson anytime soon.