Omg!! A still drawing :) The basic gist of this is that Hermes and Apollo have been dating for a few months and neither knew the other was a dad…until they bumped into each other at the park. Hermes is holding a tiny itty bitty baby Odysseus (I don't draw babies so sorry if he looks…odd)
And Apollo has a hand on his son, Alexander Hamilton’s Shoulder.
Pairings: Alexander Hamilton/Aaron Burr. (Canon past relationships, if you squint there’s some Madison/Jefferson
Aaron Burr knows two things about his soulmate. The first is that they are extremely opinionated: Flashes of anger not his own, half phrases of rhetoric on topics Aaron only had a passing interest in. The second was that his soulmate never seemed to sleep. A debt that Aaron pays for instead; staring bleary eyed and textbooks and newspapers. Even though he’s slept 12 hours every night it never makes a dent in the ever present exhaustion.
When he sleeps through his mock exams, Aaron decides that the first thing he does when they finally meet, he’s going to punch his soulmate. Hopefully hard enough to knock them out.
(the first thing he says to Alexander Hamilton is “talk less, smile more” and Aaron assumes the fissure of surprised disbelief in the back of his head is entirely unrelated. He’s wearing wrist braces on each arm to deal with his soulmates carpal tunnel. Alexander never seems to shut up.)
Soulbonds are not always romantic. As proven by the two elder Schuyler sisters. Eliza and Angelica have been joined at the hip from birth and they’re alike and separate enough to mean it can’t be anything but a bond.
Angelica and Aaron share an acquaintanceship built on being the only 2 competent people in their women's lit class. She emails him her notes; he critiques her essays. Both of them end up with A’s as their final grade. Aaron would not say that they were particularly close, but apparently they are close enough that Angelica can invite him to the house party she and her sister have organised.
Aaron hems and haws. Sleep is still a monster, steadily getting worse with every day he forces himself to stay on something that at least resembles a normal sleep schedule. Angelica raises her eyebrows. Aaron sighs, and promises to be there.
It takes him an hour to get ready. Apparently his soulmate feels restless and it’s manifesting in Aaron as fussiness on picking the perfect outfit. As a result he’s late: arriving at the party at the precise moment both Angelica and Eliza Schuyler fall in love with Alexander Hamilton at the exact same time. The entire room knows that the soulbond is influencing matters. The problem is working out which sister did the feeling originate from?
An upside: Angelica and Aaron become better friends in the wake of it. Hours are spent ranting at each other. Angelica about feelings she can’t voice for fear of hurting someone she loves. Aaron about economic theories he wishes he didn’t know anything about.
A consequence of this new friendship: Aaron knows far more about the shape of Hamilton’s eyes than he ever wanted to know. He files the information with the economic theories and long rambling titles for essays he’s never going to write. His wrists already ache from his soulmates efforts there. Aaron has no desire to make himself any worse.
By the time Aaron finishes up his studies he’s met Hamilton maybe a handful of times. Not so surprising. Aaron’s a year ahead and spends all his time either passed out or studying. What’s more notable is the fact that in every meeting Hamilton manages to make the moment memorable.
The first time he’s asking Aaron to help him with his financial troubles (“Hamilton, why did you punch the Bursar?” “I’m not sure. Honestly, it’s a bit of a blur.”). The second he’s yelling at Seabury about the merits of international treaties and colonialism and gentrification all at once. And the third he’s engaged to Eliza and Aaron is there primarily as moral support for Angelica (“I’d do anything for my sister.” “I think the entire world would do anything for Eliza.”)
The fourth Hamilton is handing out pamphlets about a Mr James Reynolds and his wife Maria Reynolds. A name which has been bouncing around Aaron’s head for some time now. Aaron blames Angelica. By virtue of being her friend (Her best friend apparently and Aaron is still unsure as to how that happened) Aaron is on her side of the entire affair: Alexander Hamilton is the scum of the Earth and should be shunned for all eternity as punishment for the crime of breaking Eliza Schuyler's heart.
It doesn’t last of course. Hamilton is surprisingly charismatic for a man that seems to piss off a good half of the people he meets. In a month Hamilton is back to being the best of friends with both of the Schuyler sisters. Though neither Angelica nor Eliza look at Hamilton again with the love that they once did.
Aaron finishes up his studies. (Long extensions and sleeping and very understanding professors who listen when Aaron explains that it really isn’t his fault.) Starts a torrid affair of his own (Her name is Theodosia, she’s older than him and married to a man who lives states away. Aaron is desperately, madly in love with her.) And practices Law. (He only falls asleep at the bench once. Not that it stops the teasing for the rest of his career)
She dies. Car accident. Very sudden. Tragic, is how the papers describe it in the loving obituary her husband pays for. There is not even a hint of a mention for Aaron, or the daughter they have together. It is the lack of mention, for his own Theodosia barely four years old and half an orphan, that makes makes Aaron hate the man.
At Theodosias funeral, he keenly feels the distance between himself--a young man with a squalling child in his arms--and the other half of Theo’s family--teenage children, uncles and aunts. Aaron doesn’t stay after they put the coffin in the ground.
The world descends into gray. He eats not enough and sleeps whenever he isn’t tending to Theo’s needs. The law firm gives him bereavement leave and paternity leave. A small kindness that Aaron is thankful for.
His soulmate never stops their relentless sapping of Aaron’s energy and patience. Everything hurts. Between Theo (who he does not blame but cannot help feel overwhelmed by) and his soulmate (who Aaron will blame with every breath left in his body) there is barely any time for Aaron to take a moment for himself.
Perhaps he should be thankful of that. The less time he has to himself, the less time he has to wallow in his grief. But no matter how long he sleeps it never gets any better. Neither the empty hole in his heart, to his headaches, to his aching, innocent wrists.
Aaron is a broken man. Proven when he realises that the last time he ate was a piece of bread several days ago and almost all the food in the apartment is mouldy.
Theodosia is dead. But Theo is not, so Aaron picks up a pen and signs his two week notice. If he’s going to be a single father he had better be a good one. He has a few things saved up, and not all of his parent’s money was used to pay for school and the house.
It doesn’t get better, or easier. But it happens which Aaron supposes will have to be enough. Theo grows in leaps and bounds. Every day Aaron falls further in love with her. His daughter, his only family left in the entire world. She loves Sesame Street but has Opinions about the cookie monster. Aaron reads the books that are recommended to her, and tries to find some of his old favourites that she might enjoy. (He never can). They go out for fast food far too often, and maybe Aaron relies too much on the TV when the world hurts and he just wants everything to stop. Just for a moment.
Just enough that he doesn’t have to listen to whatever issue his soulmate is obsessed with now. Just enough that he can get across to them the fact that human beings are meant to sleep, and Aaron has a daughter now, he can’t be sleeping for two. Not every day.
Theo calls those Daddy’s quiet days. And she is an angel. Four years old and with more compassion in her tiny heart than most adults have. Aaron has on many days gone to bed with a migraine and aching wrists with a dearly beloved soft animal placed carefully in his hands to keep him safe as he sleeps.
Aaron has the best daughter.
And slowly, slowly, the money runs out. Slowly enough that Aaron doesn’t realise until he’s staring at a bank balance in the single digits. His savings and inheritance around him in clothes and toys and all the other sundry items that happen when one is caring for a child.
He is able to hide the problem from Theo, thank god. She is six years old. School takes up most of her day and she’s lucky enough to have made good friends. The other parents tend to look at Aaron with sympathetic looks, but never further than that. Once again Aaron is in the background.
There are subtle inquiries made about after school groups, until one is found that he can afford. There is a suit unearthed from a cupboard and eyed critically. He has lost weight since the last time he wore it; the fit is no longer as perfect as it once was. There is not enough money to warrant buying a new one.
He joins the unwashed masses hunting for jobs. What little of his life was returning to colour goes back to gray. Aaron barely notices. Nowhere wants to hire him. Aaron honestly isn’t at all surprised.
Angelica is his salvation. They have kept in touch; Christmas cards and monthly emails whenever there is time. Angelica is very busy, and keeping up with a small child is far more time consuming that practicing law had ever been.
It is Angelica who throws open his windows, takes Theo to her sister and marches Aaron to his new job. Of course it is. Angelica has always been more decisive than Burr has ever been. (A game Theodosia and Angelica shared: Flipping a coin and laughing as Aaron took an age to decide what side the piece of metal had landed on. Another joke the women had shared: that Aaron’s soulmate had taken all of his decisiveness for themself. Aaron had never been able to disagree.)
Angelica says the joke again now. Standing next to Aaron as he eyes his drawer of serious ties with a critical eye.
“Theo be a darling and pick a tie for your daddy?”
So Aaron has an interview with George Washington wearing a blue tie with yellow ducks painted jauntily across it. Somehow he doesn’t fail the interview.
“You do a lot of writing?” Washington asks. A remark meant to be an icebreaker.
Aaron looks down at his wrist braces. “Not exactly,” he settles on.
He will never work out exactly what it was that he said wrong that day. He knows that it must be something, because Washington is far more distant with Aaron than with anyone else in the office.
The grey goes. Enough that Aaron can compartmentalise his feelings and juggle being a single father and a defence attorney working under one of the better known names in the country.
Alexander’s office is across the hall.
Alexander is… Alexander… Alexander is a lot, Aaron settles on. Between what is a mostly one sided frenzied debate on their defendant, four, maybe five cups of coffee and the startling too soon realisation that Aaron still remembers all of those conversations about Alexander’s eyes.
Jefferson, (who decides to sit next to Aaron at lunch, dragging Madison behind him) likens Alexander to a hurricane. There is something in Aaron that turns over at the mention, recoiling in horror. He has always been afraid of storms.
“No.” he finds himself saying. “Hurricanes have an eye, A calm center. There is no calm in Alexander. “
Jefferson eyes him, and very slowly a smirk settles across his face. “Very astute, Burr,” He says. Somehow this exchange means that Aaron has made friends. (Theo is as proud as a small child can be)
Madison and Jefferson continue to sit with Aaron at lunch. Joined by Angelica or Eliza when they visit. Even Hamilton, for all that he and Jefferson don’t get along sometimes shows up with his lunch of coffee and endless conversation that no one else pays much attention to.
Aaron is not at all surprised with the topic of soulmates comes up eventually. It always does. Especially in this type of group, where only the Schuyler sisters know where the other half of their bond leads. A lot of it ends in aimless complaining.
“It would be nice not to catch every cold strain twice,” Madison says. Adding to a discussion that had started with Eliza bemoaning the fact that she can only eat sweet popcorn when Angelica was asleep.
Jefferson scoffs, “You just don’t eat enough,” he punches a handle of his fries onto Madison’s plate. “You don’t see me getting sick all the time. That’s because I eat right.”
Madison’s head ducks down. “As you keep telling me, Thomas.”
Across the table, Angelica and Eliza share a Look.
“What about you, Alexander?” Angelica asks.
“What about me?”
“Hah!” Jefferson leans into Hamilton's space. (And Aaron’s since he’s sitting between them.) “Yeah Hamilton, tell us about the unlucky bastard who’s stuck with you.”
“I don’t have one,” Hamilton retorts in his usual half offended manner whenever he has to interact with Jefferson. “The only person in my head is me.”
Aaron, jealously with the weight of years of not enough sleep, thinks “you lucky bastard.”
He’d collapsed into bed last night and had woken late the next morning. The sleep hadn’t even been restful. Filled as it was with exchange rates. Again. He’d missed a meeting with Washington and had only gotten out of a stern reprimand by the fact that Washington has a weakness to all things small and Theo is still picking Aaron’s ties. Today is green, with red snails. It is a wonder anyone takes him seriously in court but Aaron can’t bring himself to stop when Theo is so enthusiastic in her choices.
“That’s surprising,” Madison says.
Hamilton leans around Burr and Jefferson to look properly at Madison. “What? You think I need help to be this amazing?”
“I think you don’t sleep enough to be able to function without someone taking up the slack.”
Hamilton’s nose wrinkles. “What’s that mean?”
Madison looks at him in askance. “When you were writing those essays for Washington all you did was type and drink nothing but the largest, strongest cup of coffee you could find from the nearest Starbucks that would still serve you.”
Aaron’s eyes narrow. The memory of a second hand caffeine rush making itself known in the back of his head.
“Being able to stay awake for 2 days isn’t that challenging,” Hamilton deflects with a wave of his hand.
“Four.” Madison corrects.
Jefferson whistles lowly. “Damn.”
“That isn’t healthy,” Eliza scolds, “Alexander really, you’re going to kill yourself. Or your soulmate.”
“I don’t have any soulmate.”
Eliza and Angelica each raise a judging eyebrow Hamilton, not deterred in the least continues on.
“Oh and I suppose you all think that all the work I did was my soulmates doing too then huh? That I wouldn’t have written my way out of the hell that was my life before New York by myself. That it’s my soulmate that got me to wow Washington with my rhetoric. I’m sorry, but that’s not the case.”
And Aaron abruptly realises that he knows this speech. That the things Alexander is ranting about are as familiar to Aaron as his own name. As the aching in his wrists, as the tiredness in his bones.
“Sweet Jesus,” he hisses. It takes all of his will to not slam his forehead against the table. Hamilton is still talking.Though Madison, who had turned to Aaron at his quiet oath has obviously tuned Hamilton out.
“I didn’t have any soulmate to help me,” Hamilton is saying. “I picked up a pen. I--”
“Wrote my own deliverance.” Aaron echoes. A cold fury railing against his stomach. How many times has he heard those words?
Alexander stops talking, in order to stare at Aaron with--indignation at having been interrupted? Confusion that Aaron was able to complete his diatribe for him? Aaron finds that he doesn’t care. He stares at Alexander, completely and utterly furious.
“You have no idea how much I loathe you.” He enunciates around the sharp, cold anger.
“Burr what the fuck?”
Everyone at the table is staring at him. In any circumstance that would be daunting but Aaron at this precise moment can’t bring himself to care.
“Do you have any idea how much you’ve ruined my life?”
“Oh,” Madison says. A realisation and in that moment Aaron feels completely vindicated. Somewhere, he doesn’t remember when. He’s stood up. His chair felled on the ground. And still Alexander does not get it.
He swallows down the rant. It wouldn’t help regardless. He cuts to the chase.
“You have carpal tunnel in both of your hands. A sleep debt that can be measured in days and you never fucking stop about inconsequential shit at the worst times.”
“No I don’t.” Alexander says.
“No,” Aaron agrees. “You don’t. Because I do for you, you absolute fucking asshole.”
Done, fury still simmering in his veins, he turns on his heel and leaves.
By the time Aaron’s returned to his apartment the adrenalines worn off. His hands are shaking and his breath comes in sharp little gasps. The aftermath of an anger that still echoes through him. He’s not even sure if it’s his anger anymore.
Alexander is his soulmate. Alexander fucking Hamilton is his soulmate.
