Hamilton One-Shots DISCONTINUED

Jamilmads

James wakes up alone, again. He groans when his phone turns on and shows him the date. The 14th of February. Valentines Day. In other words, his least favourite day in the world.

"At least I don't have work today," he grumbles to himself, relieved that he won't have to witness Alex and Thomas being even more all over each other than usual. He puts his phone down and rolls over to go back to sleep, figuring that he can just relax since he doesn't have anything better to do.

Then, of fucking course because the universe hates him, his phone rings. He picks up, and practically snarles, "What?" without checking the caller ID.

His boss, George, clears his throat uncomfortably, and James feels his heart drop to his stomach. "Oh my god, sir, I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you!" he quickly tells him.

George lets out an awkward chuckle. "Don't worry Madison, I had the same reaction when Other George called to tell me that he wasn't happy with the lawsuit we have prepared and insisted that all of 9ur team get together today to discuss it," he replies.

James wants to scream. Was it too much to ask to be alone for his least favourite day of the year? Was it really so much to ask to not see his crushes, who were madly in love with each other?

"And you want me to come in now?" he asks. He hears George shuffle on the other end.

"I'm sorry, James, especially if you had plans with you significant other, but if we don't fix this ASAP we'll lose our deal with George and, frankly? We need that. I'm truly sorry," he apologises.

James sighs and stands up reluctantly. "I'll be there in five," he promises. George thanks him and hangs up. James groans as he looks out his clothes.

"Y'know what? Fuck dress codes," he mutters angrily to himself. "It's not like this is an actual workday with clients and that bullshit."

~Time Skip~

George's jaw drops when his typically most appropriately dressed lawyer shows up to work in a motherfucking onesie. "Madison?" he asks incredulously.

James looked back at him out of dead eyes. (I just realised how heavily James is based off of me right now. I'm legit sitting against a radiator in my favourite onesie). "You told me I had to come into work, you did not state what I had to wear," he argues.

George stands there, blinking at him for a moment before he completely loses his cool. "What the hell? I thought you were meant to be professional, goddammit, and that you weren't a fucking child who had to be told what to wear! I'd expect this kind of childish behaviour from Hamilton or Jefferson, but for some godforsaken reason I chose to trust you!" he yells.

James swallows. "Sir, I-" he starts, but George cuts him off with a single glare.

"Go home, Madison, and come back once you've changed out of that ridiculous outfit," he orders, massaging his temples.

James mutters, "Yes sir," and quietly left the building.

~Time Skip~

When James reappears at work, he's wearing a polo shirt and jeans, still relatively casual for him, but formal enough to pass. It only took him half an hour and three panic attacks to choose it, he thinks wryly.

When he walks into the room, both Alexander and Thomas look up from the spreadsheets they'd been looking over together. "Jemmy, it's not like you to be late," Thomas teases playfully, but it causes a lump to rise into James's throat.

"Yeah, whatever, where's Washington?" he deflects and Alexander narrows his eyes. He's good at observation, James notes. Just another thing to add to the list of reasons he loves Alexander Hamilton, he tells himself.