Hamilton Drabbles

Mine, Not Yours

"Is that my food?! You ate my food?!" Madison exclaimed, seeing the taller man stretched out on the couch, plate in hand and mouth full of food. His food. From last night that he was planning on eating for lunch today.

Madison always had this problem with Jefferson. He walked over, snatching the plate from his hands. "42 fries in here Jefferson! 42! Now there's 16! Why do you always eat my food?!" he demanded to know. Thomas flopped dramatically over the end of the couch, "Because then I'll starve. I mean, look at me. I'm wasting away to practically nothing," he said melodramatically.

James scoffed, "Waisting away, my ass!" He took advantage of his stretched out position and scribbled his fingers over the exposed stomach. Jefferson sat up quickly, doubling over in laughter. "That's what you get for eating my food!" Madison said triumphantly.