it only took a word from the frenchman’s mouth to force a tiny sob from john laurens’ throat. not only was it because he was supposed to be in france at the moment, not only because if it were actually thomas jefferson he would have caught these hands, but just being face to face with gilbert du motier after being away for two years, made his whole body ache. skin tingling, flames licking his heart, flesh red hot where his mind was forced to remember their last hug, 816 days prior.

     he didn’t step any closer, hands beginning to shake “you fucking asshole, put up y’hair, you scared the fucking hell out of me…”