⋆ the world turned upside down ⋆
characters ☆ alexander hamilton, george washington, elizabeth schuyler, thomas jefferson pairings ☆ alexander hamilton/elizabeth schuyler, alexander hamilton & george washington
tws ☆ food & sleep deprivation
whumpcember day 2. sickness
ao3 link fic under cut
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It started subtly, just a small scratch in his throat. Alexander didn’t even notice it at first, too drowned in his work to register the signs of his body.
"Alex," Alexander lifted his head in a daze and turned to see Eliza standing in the doorway. He nodded, and Eliza walked closer with a sigh. "What're you working on now?"
Alexander felt warm hands placed on his shoulders. He sighed in relief as Eliza started to massage them, easing his tense muscles. Smiling, he grabbed one of the hands, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it.
"My financial plan," he said after clearing his throat. "It still needs some improvements, and Jefferson certainly isn't helping."
The last few words he spat out with a frown, his brows furrowing as he remembered the secretary of state. Alexander could see how Jefferson looked down at him, how he thought nothing of him.
"Have some supper, take a break? You've been at it for quite a while now," Eliza suggested, but Alexander shook his head gently.
"No, it's alright. I'll be there in a moment," he assured, and Eliza left with a sigh.
✮
Alexander stirred, his eyes blinking open as he woke up. He narrowed his eyes at the bright ray of sunlight streaming into the room. Weird. Hadn’t it just been dinnertime?
Alexander cursed under his breath as the memories from yesterday came to him. He had worked late into the night, the promises to Eliza forgotten. She must’ve been worried, perhaps even angry, Alexander supposed.
He straightened his back and groaned, wincing at the stiffness of his muscles. Slowly, he examined his surroundings. He had fallen asleep at his desk again. Alexander started to organize his work, but paused as he felt a sharp pain follow a regular swallow, leaving his throat sore.
Fuck.
His suspicions were confirmed when a slight headache made its presence felt. He groaned, coughed quietly as he raked a hand through his hair.
“Alexander?” a call came from downstairs. Alexander shook his head, gathering his supplies. He didn’t have time for this right now. He still had work to do.
With a few quick steps, Alexander made his way down, only to be met with a slightly stern Eliza.
“Are you alright, Alexander?” she asked, a hint of worry in her words. No mentioning about missing dinner last night, then. Alexander managed a small smile, nodding. Eliza opened her mouth, but Alexander cut her off.
“I’m fine, Betsey, really,” he said, trying not to wince at how raspy his voice sounded. Thankfully, Eliza didn’t seem to notice as he cleared his throat. “I’ll be heading off now, I’ll see you later.”
✮
“You’re late.”
Alexander couldn’t believe his luck. Out of all people, Jefferson had to be the one he bumped into in the hallways? He furrowed his brows and blinked once, slowly, trying to stave off the pounding headache. Alexander sighed deeply, but it turned into a coughing fit instead, racking his body as he struggled to catch a breath.
After a while, his coughs faded, leaving him panting. He lifted his head, only to be met with the painfully familiar gaze of underestimation.
“Secretary Ham-,” Jefferson started, but Alexander’s dark expression made him pause.
“Fuck off, Jefferson,” Alexander mumbled, pushing past the other, making his way to his office. He slammed the door closed behind him, groaning at the pain the loud noise and the bright lights sparked in his head.
Alexander walked over to his desk and collapsed into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. God, his head hurt. All he wanted was to sleep, but he knew he didn’t have the time.
Jefferson’s pitiful gaze flashed in his mind and he opened his eyes, grabbing his quill after opening his inkwell. He wasn’t going to give in to some mild cold.
✮
“Alexander?” he looked up from his work. Washington was standing in the doorway, and Alexander’s reflexes took over as he stumbled to stand up.
“Mr. President, sir,” he said, cringing at how weak and forced his voice was. He prayed that the other hadn’t noticed it. If he did, he didn’t say anything. Instead, Washington sighed.
“Go home, Alexander,” he ordered, causing Alexander to freeze.
“I- sir- what?” he mustered, too bewildered to form a coherent sentence. Washington simply shook his head, as if that explained everything.
“It’s well past midnight, your wife must be worried as well. You’ve worked enough for today, I’m sure your financial plan can wait,” he reasoned as Alexander looked down, biting his lip.
“But Jefferson won’t,” he mumbled under his breath. Washington’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and it seemed like he was going to comment something, but then opted to wait.
Alexander opened his mouth, about to rant on about why he couldn’t possibly take a break right now. Instead, he buried his face in his elbow with one rapid motion, muffling a harsh sneeze.
“Is everything alright?” Washington asked, worried. Alexander shook his head slightly, a little dazed before turning towards the older, sniffling.
“Yeah,” he said, cleared his throat, winced at the sharp pain. “Yes, sir. I’m fine. I’ll be taking my leave now.”
With a swift motion, Alexander grabbed his bag and started to make his way to the door. Right before exiting though, Washington whispered a few words that almost made him stop in his tracks.
“Don’t come back until you’ve beaten that cold.”
✮
Eliza was worried. She wasn’t the type to worry, but when you have Alexander Hamilton as your husband, how could you not?
She knew that something had happened at work around a week ago, because after coming home that day Alexander wouldn’t go back there, staying pent up in his room instead. He rarely ever exited it, only coming downstairs to grab a cup of coffee or to take a book from his study once in a while.
Eliza sighed, hoping that Alexander still ate his meals, though it was unlikely. The last time she had seen him at the dinner table was around a week ago, a few days after he had come back, shoulders drooped.
She shuddered at the memory. Alexander had had dark bags under his eyes, his hair messy, his shirt crumpled. He had barely spoken a word, rushing to finish his soup before mumbling a small ‘thank you’ and leaving again.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to get him to take a break. She had rushed after the other every time she saw him, sometimes even disturbing his work, trying to convince him to get some rest. She had tried anger, annoyance, worry, sadness, but no matter what words she used, Alexander would just brush her off.
With a few quick strides, Eliza made her way across the kitchen. Even if her husband was too stubborn to take care of himself, she still had four children to feed. Grabbing a few ingredients from the cabinets, she started cutting some vegetables.
However, she paused soon, cocking her head to the side, listening. She thought that she had heard something, but shrugged her shoulders as all that greeted her was quiet. She had already lifted her knife again, ready to continue with the potatoes, when a loud crash startled her.
That did not sound good.
Quickly placing the knife down, Eliza wiped her hands on a rag before making her way to the entrance hall, her steps rushed. She could feel a pit of anxiousness form in her stomach. Yet nothing could’ve prepared her for what she was about to see.
A body, limp, at the foot of the stairs.
Alexander.
✮
Alexander could hear Eliza shuffling down in the kitchen. She was probably preparing another meal that he wouldn’t attend. He swallowed, waving off the thoughts of food as they made his stomach churn with discomfort.
His eyes scanned over the papers in his hand, but they wouldn’t focus. Perhaps it was the shaking, his foggy mind remarked, and he dropped the papers, closing his eyes. The lights in his room were turned off, but he couldn’t stop the sunlight from streaming in. He would’ve appreciated it normally, a nice contrast to the previously dark and grim days of winter, but now it just made his head unbearable.
He shivered. It was cold, too cold. Maybe the effects of a fever? He knew he was sick, but he wasn’t sure to what extent. Washington wouldn’t be pleased, but upon returning home, Alexander had discovered that he couldn’t possibly rest. Jefferson’s sneers had circled around in his head, reminding him that without doing work he wasn’t worthy of anything.
So he had drowned himself in his work, committing all of his waking hours to it — and after a while, his sleeping hours too, coffee being the only thing keeping him awake. Perhaps it was the high amounts of the caffeinated, bitter drink, perhaps it was his sickness, but eventually downing anything else than liquids made him nauseous.
Good, he had found himself thinking. That gave more time for work. He also wouldn’t have to deal with Eliza’s blaming, worried gaze or with the questions from their children that he couldn’t answer – literally. His voice had left him a few days after Washington had sent him home, and now all he could do was speak softly for short amounts of time.
Alexander opened his eyes and groaned at the light, coughing a little afterwards. He lifted his cup to his lips, but paused. His coffee had run out again. Slowly, he pushed himself up from his chair. Simply standing up took all of his strength, and he had to grasp onto his desk in order to not topple over.
A wave of dizziness flooded over him, and he gasped, shaking his head. He had to keep moving. One step after another, his breathing unsteady as he struggled to make it to his door.
Alexander took another deep breath as he leaned against the doorframe. A few more steps. Eventually, he made it to the top of the stairs, his head swirling. His vision was blurry as he descended, each step carefully taken.
But then the sharp sound of a knife against a cutting board invaded his senses, his head’s pounding increasing tenfold. His thoughts were muddled, causing him to stumble.
The next thing he knew, he was laying on his back, and everything hurt.
