Jamilton's IKEA Adventures

The President's Assemblin' an IKEA Couch

            "I'll be back in an hour; I'm sure the two of you can learn to work together," Professor Washington seriously said as he left the student council room – which would be relocated to the school's south wing in the next month.

As soon as Washington closed the door behind him, a fight broke out for the infuriatingly image-heavy IKEA instructions.

"Give it to me!" Hamilton demanded. "It's not like you own any IKEA furniture!"

"And I'm glad for that," Jefferson responded, not a beat too early or late. "But! You'll find that you have already almost lost a screw – so give it to me."

"No."

They battled over the sheaf of instructions for a while, as the rest of the student council watched, in varying stages of amusement and extreme irritation. Angelica Schuyler was the first to break.

"Hamilton! Jefferson!" she shouted. "Don't you know what the reason the two of you have to do this is? It's because you wasted an entire meeting by half-arguing, half-flirting, which made everyone fully uncomfortable! So stop "subtly" making plans to bang this Thursday, shut up, give me the instructions, and do as I say. You'll be done within forty minutes," Angelica finished, her voice leaving no room for complaint. "Now!" she added for good measure.

Jefferson passed the instructions to Angelica, who stood before the two student council secretaries.

"Hamilton, take all of the parts and separate them; they should be labelled. Jefferson, get the..."

As promised, the sofa was completed under forty minutes; it took exactly thirty-seven and a half. Not that Hercules was counting, of course. (He made five dollars off of both Peggy and John, though.)

"Congratulations," Angelica sarcastically deadpanned. "Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson have managed to assemble furniture without attempting to kill each other with a screwdriver. A round of applause, everybody."

The student council exploded into exaggerated and inappropriately enthusiastic cheers and clapping. Every single member gave a standing ovation. Hamilton and Jefferson stood, stone-faced, and took the abuse.

"Alright, shut up now," Angelica eventually said. "I'll turn on the TV; sofa is first come, first serve – I'll be expecting a spot, though."

The council madly rushed for a spot on the relatively small sofa, all crowding onto it and hanging off each other and the edges. The West Wing was what they had decided to binge on Netflix, and Hamilton had leapt up from – "I was not sitting in Jefferson's lap!" he would later shout – his spot and started ranting at the TV. For a moment, Hercules had considered recording it and making an addition to the wildly popular "Teenager Rants At and Fights Everything for No Reason" series on YouTube, but decided that he didn't have enough storage left on his phone. After a good five minutes, Hamilton flopped back down on the "couch" with a huff – Jefferson made a shocked, pained choking noise – and the newly assembled piece of furniture came crashing down to the half-cheap carper, half-cheap linoleum floor.

"Alexander Hamilton!" no less than three people yelled in unison. They began to go on a tirade that would give Hamilton a run for his money, but were silenced by the horror that was Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton: due to the fall, the two were all over each other, and neither of them had even slightly moved out of the compromising position. They were flirt-arguing again, complete with collar-grabs, and it was utterly mortifying, disgusting, and terrifying to witness.

"Code Fuchsia! Code Fuchsia!" John cried, the first to throw open the door and save himself. "Evacuate!"

"God, finally," Hamilton said under his breath once the last member was safely out of the room.

"Oh? I thought you liked an audience for our little debates, Alexander," Jefferson said, to which Hamilton instantly shot back,

"No, you're the shameless exhibitionist, not me. Now, shut up and kiss me."

And so Jefferson did, on the ruins of their newly built sofa.

Incidentally, this was exactly when an hour had passed and Washington returned to the student council room, awaiting a beautiful, shiny, new sofa.

"You know, I screwed that one screw in a half-turn too loose on purpose," Washington was sadly able to hear Jefferson say.

"Of course you did," Hamilton deadpanned. "Now, if you're going to talk about building IKEA furniture, get the hell off me, but, you also have the option to screw me instead – and I don't want any of that "half-turn too loose" bullshit," Hamilton demanded.

A power bottom indeed, Jefferson thought at the same time Washington hastily drew the blinds, exited, and closed the door, thinking, Ah. So this is the feared "Code Fuchsia."