Burr falls asleep immediately--leaves Hamilton and Laurens to work out the messy tangle of limbs, to wait for knots to go down. He feels pleasantly warm, and safe, as he drifts off.

--

He wakes before either of them, the room smelling of sex and sweat and spend. Hamilton has been spirited away from him during the night, ass still pressed against Laurens, the two tangled together--(though, Hamilton's arm is stretched--what looks painfully--behind him, reaching towards Burr). He feels a little ill. A little queasy, and heavy with sleep. A bit unhappy, though he can't pin down why. When he moves he feels that stickyness between his legs, and that is satisfying enough for him to forget his foul mood, for the time being.

He feeds little Theo, but she too is tired, and full of milk is easily rocked back to sleep. No stirring from the bed, so he tucks her back down, dresses carefully and quietly, slips out to leave them be. He reports for duty early when he can, to make up for the long days when he was confined to bed, and the breaks he must take to nurse.

Washington is already awake, when Burr enters, though he is groggy still, and hardly nods when Burr slips in, bent over tea and hard bread. Burr starts in on his own stack of correspondence, but as time wears on his mood worsens, and his back begins to ache, and his stomach turns, and he feels hot, and queasy.

Washington asks after his health, but Burr brushes him off. He is sweating though, and shivering, just a little.