Delegate Edward "Neddy" Rutledge slowly peered around the edge of the door to the empty congress hall, or nearly empty, considering the singular Massachusetts delegate, the one known to be both short and short-tempered, still remained in his seat, despite the fact that congress had been dismissed some hours ago.

John Adams' dark brows were knitted together in concentration as he quickly scrawled upon the single piece of parchment on the table in front of him, his form backlit from the single candle nearby. He, apparently, was still unaware of the hall's other occupant as he continued writing without as much as a glance to the wide double door.

Perfect Neddy mentally purred before he swiftly and deftly made his way to the other side of the room and positioned himself behind the sitting Bostonian.

Breezily, he place both well manicured hands on John Adams' shoulders.

"What are you writin' there, sah?" he drawled in Adams' ear, his accent thickening.

Adams visibly tensed under his touch, but still refused to turn.

"Nothing!" he almost instantly replied, then slowed as he continued, "That is...nothing that you should be concerned of...Mister Rutledge." The venom and hatred were obvious in his tone, and the same feelings shone in his eyes. The new Englander's hand moved, crumpling the parchment and began to stuff the letter (or what appeared to be one) into one of his waistcoat pockets and stood to leave, eyeing the hand still curled around his bicep distastefully.

"But, mistah Adams," Rutledge chuckled, "Now you're just making me so curious, what are you doing still hanging around here?" he removed one hand from John's shoulder blades and slid it around his side reaching into the same pocket. The Bostonian quickly grabbed Edward by the wrist, and with the other hand he ripped the precious document from the southerner's grasp, leaving only a small scrap of the parchment left caught in his fingers.

"As I said before, Mister Rutledge..." Adams hissed tersely, "None of your business!".

He knew Rutledge was just toying with him as usual, taking advantage of his volatile nature and trying to gain am explosive reaction, spurring him into another argument or even a fight he most likely couldn't win. He was at his wits end with the way Rutledge had nearly have the congress neatly under his thumb, pitting them against Adams and his allies, the last thing he needed with him was a confrontation outside of congress.

Adams turned to the southerner ready to unleash some verbal fury when Rutledge slowly brought the Bostonian's hand to his lips. For once the great John Adams was silenced.

"Maybe it should be my business..".

Neddy couldn't help but smirk at the shorter man's pause, the color flushing his cheeks in the dim light, his eyes wider than he'd ever seen them before. This is just too easy.

Suddenly the same hand on which he had just deposited a kiss had come back to give him a curt slap on the face.

"Good God..." John muttered with disgust as he untangled himself from the other delegate and left the same way Rutledge had come. he could hear him repeat his blasphemous mantra all the way out the main doors and on to the street. Now only Neddy remained, one had on his hip, and other rubbing his sore cheek, though he hadn't accepted defeat just yet.


so far:

Adams -1

Rutledge - 0


Author's Note: If I get at least one review I'll continue this, don't worry the next few chapters will be a bit longer. Up Next: John Hancock! :3