Hamilton Oneshots

........ // Washinglee ?

( theres a george washington partial quote in here , and i think its the funniest thing ever been documented to be said by washington )

George was sick and tired of having to deal with situations like this. Charles was ranting about how retreating his troops saved them from the larger British power, yet George had sent a letter telling him to attack.

"General Lee," he said, cutting off Charles, "Did I not explicitly state to attack in the morning?"

"Yes, you did, but you never said how to attack, sir. Maxwell and Scott didn't hear my plans, I couldn't fight the British with my troops," Charles argued.

"You're a dammed poltroon for being so cocky about a false victory. You're lucky I won't put a court martial on you," George said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was tired, and knew the shorter second-in-command had five years more experience, and a much broader life than him, but George was annoyed. Charles had the look on his face that always signified he was thinking.

"Do it. Put a court martial on me, see if I care," Charles's words were enunciated, not a syllable missed or left unpronounced. He walked off, the soldiers not bothering to get in his way. George turned to Lafayette, who stood watching the shouting between the generals.

"Gather the troops, we'll strike again tomorrow," George told him. Lafayette nodded and ran off. George made his way to his tent, rubbing the stress from his face. He waited until it was getting dark before leaving his tent. He stood in front of Charles's tent, knocking on the post. Charles opened it, letting George in without a second thought.

"I'm not doing the court martial on you," George said plainly.

"I want it done, either I'll be prove right, which is doubtful, or I'll be kicked out of the milita," Charles said, sitting at his desk.

"Why, may I ask?" George took a seat by the entrance, staring curiously at Charles.

"Hadn't you've read the after-battle reports? I'm going to be ruined no matter what, why not go all out?" Charles rebuttaled.

"What could you be even charged for?" George asked. His entire focus was on Charles alone, watching the slightly older second-in-command tap his hand on the table.

"Disobeying orders,conducting a 'shameful' retreat - so you called it -, and disrespect to the commander-in-chief," Charles said.

"I'm offering to not have you arrested, but you still insist," George said, almost astounded.

"It'll leave people talking about me when I'm dead. I don't care what kind of legacy I have at this point, I just want to be remembered. Besides, what would a mad, three fingered, dog loving general be remembered for if his life was so... in the mix?" Charles said.

"Three fingered? How on earth did I not notice that?" George asked, leaning forward. Charles lifted his hand, showing a lost of his pinkie and ring finger.

"Italy, spring of 1770. I still killed the bastard. Still, it's nothing compared to the surgeon who almost assassinated me in, Lord, what was it? 1756, I believe," Charles said, smiling fondly at his near death experience. George, however, was mortified at the casualness of it.

"Remind me to never gift you gloves," George muttered.

"Don't flatter me so much. Anyways, do you know where Steuben is? I have something to deliver to him," Charles said, signing the paper in front of him. He folded it gently, George couldn't take his eyes off of the precision Lee had without two of his fingers.

"He's three tents down from mine. I can give it to him, if you wish," George said.

"It's a personal matter, I could never drag you into this. Which direction away from yours?" Charles asked, once again tapping his hand on the desk. George got up and held out his hand.

"My personal favor," he said. Charles held the letter, still tapping his desk in thought. Finally, he dropped the letter into the general's hand.

"May you leave? I believe I have been grazed and I haven't fully trusted a surgeon for menial tasks after 1756," Charles said, chuckling softly.

"Of course, general, have a good night," George said, turning to leave.

"Don't bother with 'General' anymore, I'm not going to be able to keep that much longer," Charles said. George looked at him as if he was mad, which could've been true at this point, before leaving. Once George was away, he felt an itch to read the letter. Yes, Charles had said it was personal matter he didn't wish George was a part of, but he had never stated that George couldn't peer at it. He pulled back the top flap, reading the top of the page. It was a duel offer, the top resembling Steuben's handwriting. George opened the rest of it, seeing Charles had denied it due to "conflicted meeting". George refolded the paper and gently placed it under the pin on Steuben's tent.

The next day, George warrented Charles's arrest, as much as he didn't wish to. Within a little over a month, George was rather impressed with how Charles defended himself in court. However, he clearly knew how to flaw it just right to be charged will all the counts compared to just the disrespect one. George watxhed with an unaffected face as Charles accepted his year suspension from the army.

December rolled around, a staggering lost and win line with the British showed no true hope for the war. George awoke, just a few days after Christmas had rolled around camp, to a gun shot. He slipped on his military coat and grabbed his hat before walking outside, just in case of a British attack. No one else seemed to have been bothered, making it seem like it was merely George's imagination. Nonetheless, he went to the source of the gunshot, a small hill in the middle of Philadelphia. There, he saw Alexander, John Laurens, Charles, and Aaron out on the field. Either Aaron or Charles was bleeding while Charles yelled about wanting another shot. Aaron and Alexander were quick to shut that down. The medic was trying to get to the source of the bleeding through the entire argument. Eventually, Charles backed down, handing his gun to Aaron, and walked away.

"What's going on?!" George yelled, walking up the hill. The three men froze and Charles turned around, blood seeping through his shirt.

"You three, my tent. Now. Lee, a word," George said, using his commander voice. All four men went to where they were supposed to go while the medic stood confused.

"Go back to your station, if it's serious, Lee will go in for the proper dressing," George told the medic. Charles stood in front of Washington, slightly pressing on his new wound.

"Do you mind explaining what that was?!" George said, waving his hand towards Charles's side.

"Laurens and Hamilton requested a duel, so I followed through. I'm not a child," Charles said.

"They are half your age-"

"They requested this, so I was going by the traditional rules, shoot until one's dead," Charles said, rolling his eyes.

"Your mouth is going to get the better of you one day," George warned.

"It already has. I've left the recruiting list for the military, I'm just going home, unless any more of your aide-de-camps want a duel," Charles said, clearly not intimidated.

"No, no more dueling, we are on the verge of losing a war and all you seem to care about is how close you are to death," George said, pinching his nose.

"It's a fucking miracle I'm alive past 25, okay? Don't you know the feeling that you know you aren't going to survive much longer? I've had it plenty of times, attempted assassination of 1756, nearly freezing to death in the Ottoman 1766, Italy duel of 1770, almost crushed by my own home in Constantinople also in 1766. But now, I feel it more than ever, perhaps it's the bleeding, but I genuinely believe I won't survive much longer," Charles said, running his non-bloodied hand through his hair.

"...Get your wound bandaged up, I believe the blood loss is messing with your mind," George said, pointing in the direction of the medical tents. Charles made his way out, walking completely fine.

Just 2 years later, George heard of Charles's fever stricken death. He merely nodded and dismissed the messager. He folded the note he was writing and tossed it. It was supposed to be a letter of how great Charles has survived, but clearly George was mistaken.

( kinda short , but i like writing like this , nothing romantic or sexual or ... anything rlly , just kinda historical fiction with things i learned )