Work Text:
The snow crunched softly under Hercules’ feet as he carried Eliza from Alex’s car to his dorm’s front door. The sidewalk was slick and he worried about slipping, especially carrying special cargo. Admittedly, he wouldn’t even been as careful toting his spy equipment across the snowy path as he was with Eliza Schuyler softly dozing in his arms.
He heard Alex’s car drive away after he reached the front door where a kind neighbor opened it for him. Hercules eased them inside, avoiding conking Eliza’s head on the doorway. The few students hanging out in the stark lobby stared at them with curious eyes.
Hercules walked down the hallway of Quad, the smallest dorm on campus. Most of the students knew who he was and knew he never brought girls back. He was the type to slip into the building silently and unnoticed, a feat considering his size, but with a beautiful girl cradled in his arms, Hercules supposed people would gawk. They were the dorm of artists and weirdoes. While people did bring late-night visitors back to their dorm rooms in Quad, it was usually other artists, not co-eds from the Social Work department.
As he moved through the dorm, Eliza quietly snuffled in his arms and turned slightly to drape an arm around Hercules’ neck. She looked so adorable, so peaceful in his arms.
He felt terribly about how the night had gone. The plan was theoretically flawless, but of course they hadn’t considered Burr to be as unpredictable. They should have taken Eliza out as soon as they found out Burr was going to be late. Or not allowed her to drink. Or he should have gone in there with her. No one knew him at the party; he didn’t really hang around the PoliSci department. He felt responsible for her current state because there were so many other options they could have chosen.
With some maneuvering, Hercules got his keys out and opened his door to get them inside and away from prying eyes. He deposited her onto the bed before shutting the door quietly behind them.
Kneeling down next to her and stroking her hair, Hercules asked softly, “Eliza? Eliza honey?”
Her black eyes blinked open and hazily stared at him.
“Herc, where are we?” she asked, a slur sticking to her words.
“We’re in my room,” he answered. “Your dorm is a secure building and none of us wanted to figure out where you put your keys in this dress.” John had reluctantly volunteered, but Lafayette mentioned something about consent and they passed on that idea.
“That’s fair,” Eliza sighed heavily. Hercules tugged at his coat, which was still wrapped around her.
“Do you want to give this to me?”
She pulled it a little closer.
“It’s so warm, Hercules.”
It was so hard negotiating with drunk people.
“But you’ll sleep better under all the blankets instead of just my coat,” he said sweetly. She sighed again and let him pull the coat and her shawl off her. She shivered when the cool air of the room hit her bare skin. Eliza whined, her hands brushing over the goosebumps.
“It’s so cold,” she said groggily as he helped her sit up. He dashed over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of basketball shorts and an oversize t-shirt for Eliza.
“Well, let’s get you changed,” he suggested as he moved to sit next to her, his hands on her zipper, “Because I bet you don’t want to sleep in that dress. And I'm pretty sure Lafayette wouldn't want-”
She eyed him wearily and rotated her body, pulling the zipper out of his hands.
“What are you doing?” Eliza queried sharply. It was the clearest her voice had been all night. She stared at him with laser focus.
“I promised Hamilton I would look after you tonight. I just thought—“
“They warn us about situations like this,” Eliza said darkly. “People like you.”
Oh god, people like him? Was he being lumped in with those men? Was that what he was doing in the moment without realizing it?
Hercules really liked Eliza. She was funny, smart, sweet, clever. And not to mention gorgeous. He loved her soft face, her delicate curves, her silken hair. He found her incredibly sexy. He would love nothing more than to peel her out of that dress and treat her like the all-around beautiful woman she was. Hercules wanted to worship Eliza Schuyler.
He wanted it more after hearing how heartbroken she was over Hamilton, a man who was so blindly in love with John Laurens that he had tunnel vision toward everything else happening around him. Hercules wanted to take her on a date and court her and kiss her passionately and make love to her. He wanted to show her that there were other guys close to her that could treat her better than Alexander Hamilton would treat her.
But he wanted it to be on her terms and not like this.
He retracted his hands like he had been burned.
“Eliza,” he said sincerely, “I'm gonna be honest: I really like you and I would love to take you on a date at some point. You’re beautiful and funny and sexy – god, you’re so sexy – but I would never take advantage of you. I am so sorry.” He looked down at his hands in his lap, his fingers playing at the hem of his carefully tailored jeans. “I just wanted to help.”
Eliza continued to watch him and Hercules shifted under her heated scrutiny. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He screwed up. He should never have offered to take her back to his dorm. He should have let Hamilton and Laurens deal with her and they could have dealt with not having sex for one night. He should’ve brought home his spy equipment instead. This was a huge mistake. A huge, huge mistake—
Her small hand gently took his.
“Okay,” she said resolutely. Hercules looked to her and saw her eyes full of warmth and love.
“Okay?” he gulped.
“I believe you,” Eliza said softly. "Apology accepted."
Hercules sighed in relief.
“I have an idea, though,” she said confidently. “Unzip me, and then sit in the corner. But you can’t look!” He smiled.
“I would never,” he promised. Eliza smiled kindly in return. She turned, allowing him access to the zipper. His heart thudded in his chest, his fingers shaking like they didn’t before. Tooth by tooth, Hercules unzipped the back of Eliza’s dress. He felt the heat coming from her body, so close to touch. He longed to brush a fingertip down her spine and feel the soft skin himself.
But as soon as the zipper hit the bottom, he pulled his hands back and stood. Hercules quickly stationed himself at his desk to fiddle with whatever was available for his hands. He found his Rubik’s cube he never solved to occupy his eyes as Eliza changed. Behind him, he could hear the unbuckling of stilettos, rustle of the dress, the slide of pantyhose.
In minutes, Eliza said, “Okay, Hercules, you can turn around.”
He spun in his chair and there was Eliza, standing cutely in his own clothes. She was swimming in the t-shirt he gave her and the shorts cut far below her knees. But he still thought she looked just as sexy as she did in Lafayette’s borrowed dress.
With a smile, she flopped back down in his bed, her long black hair sprawling across his pillow. She pulled at the bottom of the t-shirt and looked down at her torso.
“Where did you get this t-shirt? It’s enormous,” she commented.
“It was before I lost weight,” Hercules replied. “It was from my fat phase.”
“How much did you lose, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“80 pounds.”
Eliza’s jaw dropped in pleasant surprise.
“Oh my god, Hercules!” she cooed. “I’m so proud of you.” He smiled politely.
“Thanks, Eliza,” he responded. She hummed happily, wrapping herself up with Hercules’ blanket. Her eyes danced around the room, taking in all the decorations and items scattered about his room, until they landed on him. Eliza smiled big and wide.
“Are you coming?” she asked, patting the bed next to her.
Hercules bit his lip. He really wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to curl up behind her and hold her close.
“I’m, uh, gonna sleep on the floor,” he answered, running a hand through his hair. He’d have to find another pillow or use a sweatshirt or something, but he could do it. He had enough extra fabric in his room that he could find something to sleep on.
Eliza was pouting, her bottom lip pushed out.
“Please sleep with me?” she murmured. He sighed and gazed lovingly at her. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. He knew he wouldn’t do anything to her but she was still drunk and dealing with her feelings about Hamilton…
“Hercules…” she called playfully from the bed. He pushed himself to stand.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he grinned. Before he got to her, he made a gesture if he could take off his jeans. A curt nod from Eliza gave him the go-ahead and he took off his pants, leaving him in a t-shirt and boxers. He carefully draped them on the end of his bed along with Eliza's clothes she haphazardly dumped on the floor. Eliza was smiling even bigger by the time he turned off the lights.
“You really love clothes, don’t you?” she said.
“I do,” he replied as he climbed over her to get into bed. As he got himself situated on his back under the covers, he said, “I figure, if nothing pans out, I can always be a tailor. I’m really good at it.”
He made it a point to not touch her when he laid down. If she wanted contact with him, he was open to it but he wasn’t about to disrespect Eliza especially when she was drunk and vulnerable.
Eliza rolled over to look at him. She carefully placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart.
“Who taught you to sew?” she whispered.
“My dad.”
She hummed curiously.
“Yeah, my dad was more of the homemaker than my mom,” he said. “She worked all the time for the government and he wanted to be a stay-at-home dad.”
“That’s really cool, Hercules,” Eliza said sweetly. She tucked her head into his shoulder and he couldn’t help himself. Hercules wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her closer. She scooted toward him and he could feel her whole body pressed up against his side. Fantasies flashed through his mind of things he would love to do with her when the time was right, but for the moment, he relished in being so close to this brave and kind woman.
Eliza nuzzled her face into his chest, took a deep breath, and sighed.
“I need to get over Alexander, don’t I,” she muttered, resigned. It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.
“That’s entirely up to you, Eliza,” Hercules said warmly, squeezing her tighter. “He’s in a relationship right now and while yeah, they could break up, they’re together right now. So, you can either play the waiting game or you can move on. Both are hard.”
“What do you think I should do?” she asked thickly.
This was the question Hercules feared.
He rested his cheek against the top of her head.
“You know how I feel about you,” he said honestly. “If I tell you to get over Alex, it’s because I want you to be open to dating me. If you stay hung up on him, you’re in for a world of hurt.” He closed his eyes. “And I really want you to be happy.”
Maybe he was shooting himself in the foot, being so brutally honest with Eliza. They hadn’t hung out very much, and it seemed too much too fast. At least he wasn’t admitting that he loved her because Hercules wasn’t even sure he knew what that felt like. He was simply being honest with her because he wanted a chance to date one of the best women he had ever met. The first time they met, she blew him away with her intelligence, her humor, her beauty.
Did he screw it up? Did being honest ever work? Should he have played the long game? Should he have waited for her to completely get over Hamilton when Alex and John are married 20 years with three children who all have John’s curly hair and Alex’s combative personality? Should he have—
“Tell me to get over him,” she whispered.
Hercules’ eyes flew open. He shifted to look at her, only to find her staring intently at him.
“Tell me to get over Alexander Hamilton. Tell me he’ll keep breaking my heart.”
His breath caught in his throat.
“You should get over Alex,” Hercules echoed. “He’ll keep breaking your heart.”
It felt like the room was losing cabin pressure the longer she stared at him. Hercules prayed for her to fall asleep so he could finally breathe.
But there she was, leaning up and closing the distance between them. He could feel her breath dance across his lips.
“May I kiss you?” she asked tenderly, softy.
Hercules nodded.
“Yeah,” he breathed.
It was a sweet, delicate kiss, followed by another, and another, and another. His heart hammered against his ribcage with every touch of her lips against his.
Eliza withdrew and settled against him, her cheek back to resting against his chest.
In every second that passed, Hercules became acutely aware of everything around him. The press of the pillow beneath his head. Eliza’s hair tickling his skin. The warmth of her breath against his chest. Her breasts pressing against his side. Her arm hugging him around the middle. He could even feel her heartbeat, once elevated, slow down to a sleepy pace.
He peered down at her and was grateful to see she was finally asleep. He couldn’t believe what happened. He wanted to text Lafayette and tell them what happened, but his phone was across the room and there was no way he was moving.
Hercules carefully ran his hand up Eliza’s arm to rest his palm on her elbow. He held her close to protect her. She was special. She was someone to be cherished. She made him feel strong and protective and the person he always wanted to be. As long as he was alive he swore to God he’d never let her feel helpless.
He hoped she wouldn’t regret it by morning.
(She didn’t.)