Hamilton One Shots!!

Writing Prompt

Prompt: "we're in the middle of a storm and you want to get out of the car to feel the rain?"

Given to me by ariisdonewithlife

TRIGGERS

past death (i don't really know if this is a trigger, but if it is, you have been warned)

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"Come on, Pip, go to bed."

"But POPSSSS I don't want to go to bed," the nine-year-old whined, looking back at his father with big doe eyes. "Tell me a story first." He clapped, making his dad smile. As much as Alexander wanted Pip to go to bed so he could work some more, He knew his son was not going to budge with his puppy dog eyes until he got what he wanted.

"Fine, Pip. One story."

"Ok, so you've told me about college, high school, and even how you and momma fell in love, but you haven't told me everything. I hear about this guy named John all the time from Uncle Lafayette and Uncle Hercules, who is he? You never told me about him."

Alexander's expression darkened. He was going to have a talk with his brother later about what he said in front of his child.

"Pip now is not the time for that story. Maybe when you're older, and not going to bed," Alexander exclaimed dismissively, gently pushing his son off his lap and standing up. "Goodnight, kiddo. I love you. I'll have your mom come in." Pip watched as his dad left his room, a confused look on his face. Philip had no idea who this 'John' person was, but he wanted to know. His mother came in, kissing his forehead tenderly and bidding him goodnight.

"Momma, why is daddy sad?"

Eliza looked at her son, her eyebrows furrowed and her head tilted. "What do you mean, honey?"

"Well, I asked him about his friend John-"

Eliza sighed, looking down at her hands. Her face got pale, and Philip scooted closer to his mother, holding onto her arm worriedly. "Pip, John was an old friend of your dad's. There's more to the story, but you need to wait until you're older to hear it. You're too little, you wouldn't understand some things yet," She explained, her voice at a whisper. She smiled at her son, giving him a kiss on the forehead and tucking him in once she stood up. "Good night hon, sweet dreams."

"Good night momma," Philip chirped sleepily, his mind still on overdrive about this John person.

----

"Dad, when are you going to tell me?" Philip exclaimed, sitting with a huff at the kitchen table. He was now 12 years old and he would not stop bugging his father about it. Kids are persistent in knowing things that their parents know.

Alexander rolled his eyes at his son, his stomach feeling like a tangled rope. As much as he wanted to push all those thoughts away, his son would not stop pestering him about it since he was nine.

"Philip, I said when you're eighteen." He responded, popping a Keurig cup in the machine.

Philip groaned dramatically, rolling his head around his shoulders. "Come on, dad."

"No."

And that was the end of that discussion.

----

"I'm eighteen now, you can tell me the story!" Philip shouted, rushing down the stairs on his 18th birthday. He'd been extremely curious ever since he was nine about his father's friend. Alexander had told him everything about his life, except for John, and Philip tried everything to weasel it out of him. He'd even gone to his uncles and aunts for information, but none was given. Philip felt like he was acting immature, but his father never kept things from him. Alexander had such an interesting life and Philip wanted to be just like his dad.