Hamilton x Reader

George Washington x Reader - Fire Alarm

Dropping your heavy bag onto the counter, you stretch, sighing. It had been a rough day at work; heck, it had been a rough week. You worked as a child-minder for a small family that lived on the outskirts of your town. They were a lovely family, and you sincerely enjoyed your job, but the past couple of days had been manic. Emma, their one year-old daughter, had recently began teething. Drool covered your blouse, and the pharmacy was now out of the special gel you used. Lilly, the ten year-old, had been involved in some catty fights, so you were the one who had to sit in the Headmaster's office while Emma grizzled.

They were lovely kids, and it was a joy for you to watch them grow up, but at the end of the day, you didn't have kids yourself, and it was a learning experience for all of you. You shuffled into the kitchen, pulling open the cupboards in your search for the necessary ingredients for a hot chocolate.

It was mid-November, so darkness was already falling over your sleepy town. You lived close to the town centre, in the newly-built apartment block. It wasn't the best, but it certainly wasn't the worst. If the offer hadn't have come along when it did, you would've been stuck with a grotty council flat, so you were extremely grateful for what you had.

You collapsed onto the small sofa, curling up against the arm. Nursing your drink, you let your mind wander. You had moved to this small town in an attempt for a quiet life, away from the hustle and bustle of the city you were accustomed to. You had always preferred a quiet life. One day, you would like to have a loving husband and kids of your own.

At last, you had peace and quiet. No baby whimpering, no stroppy girls moaning and complaining. Just you, a hot chocolate and an empty apartment.

'SLAM'

And there went the peace. Jeez, why did people have to be so noisy? You scowled, screaming internally. Oh well.

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2:24PM

You had tried everything. Counting sheep and every other animal in the bloody zoo, relaxing music, a glass of water – nothing seemed to work. You were tired and miserable, yet you just couldn't fall asleep. What didn't help was that in the apartment above yours, music was turned up so loud that you could literally feel the beat in your bones.

You groaned, pressing your face into your pillow. Why did the world have to be so cruel? All you wanted was a decent night of sleep. Plus, you were pretty sure that Taylor Swift was going to lose her voice, the amount of times you heard her singing from above. Probably some teenage girl had broken up with her boyfriend, and decided to take it out on the entire complex.

Slowly, you allowed your body to relax. Your mind drifted away, as the music gradually faded to background noise. Sleep was near; nothing could disturb you now. You stretched your legs, letting all the tension fade away. Finally.

'BEEEP, BEEEP, BEEEP, BEEEP, BEEEP'

You jolted out of bed, still half asleep. Grabbing onto the desk, you straighten up disorientated. As your mind frantically scrambled for an explanation as to just what was happening. You had been sleeping... Then an alarm went off... A fire alarm! Oh for heaven's sake, this was all you needed.

Your hand felt up the wall, snapping on the light. You blinked at the sudden brightness, while the piercing alarm rang through your head. There was no time to grab a jacket, you just sprinted to the door of your apartment. You yanked open the door, while other residents made their way down the stairs. Some were rubbing their eyes tiredly, others timidly hanging onto their significant other.

As you made your way down to the fire point, you were joined by a man clad in... Wait, were those teddy bear pyjamas? The man in question was a great deal taller than you, and his face was pulled into a grimace. You couldn't really blame him; you weren't all too happy at the abrupt awakening either. Stepping into the crisp air, a frosty wind nipped at your shivering frame. You clenched your arms together in a desperate attempt to ward off the cold. Unsurprisingly, your efforts were futile.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Teddy-bear man was beside you, looking down with concern.

"Oh, I-I'm fine, thanks." He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "What about you?"

The man chuckled. "I'm fine, thank you. A little cold, though. If you don't mind me asking, which floor are you on?" In a way, you were glad that he had asked; the man was undeniably attractive. "C floor, room 12. You?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "D floor, room 12. Who knew that you lived right under me?"

So, he lived right on top of you?

"Wait... Why were you blasting Taylor Swift at 2 o'clock?"

Teddy-bear blushed instantly. "Y-you, you heard that?"

"I'm pretty sure the whole building heard it."

In the end, the fire alarm had turned out to be a stupid teenager cooking chips. While you screamed internally, teddy-bear (who's actual name, you found out, was George) told you about the school he worked at. And get this! He worked as a teacher at the local primary school; the very same school you had been in and out of all week, due to Lilly's spats. You were surprised that you hadn't run into him before.

As you trudged up the stairs that seemed to have multiplied overnight, you made small talk with George. It was past 3 o'clock now, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Since it was a Friday, and neither of you had work the next day, George invited you up to his apartment on the next floor up.

It had the same layout as your own apartment; a small kitchen facing a comfortable living room, and a corridor leading off to the bathroom, bedroom, and study. George obviously preferred a plain, but cosy home. You couldn't complain, though. The apartment looked wonderful.

George made himself busy in the kitchen, putting together two cups of hot chocolate complete with whipped cream. The sweet scent of the hot drink made its way to your nose, bringing a smile onto your face. You knew you looked a mess, still in your old pyjamas with your hair messed up. At the moment, though, you couldn't have cared less.

George brought the steaming beverages into the living room, carefully placing the mugs onto the coffee table. Making yourself comfortable on the sofa, you sit in companiable silence with the man. After a while, you strike up a conversation. The two of you talk into the night, and well into the morning; eventually, sleep overcame you and you felt your eyelids beginning to slide shit.

Tucking a blanket over your half-asleep frame, you cuddle into the soft material. As the events of the last night caught up to you, only one thought plagued your mind.

Why the hell was this guy blasting Taylor Swift at 2 AM?