A France Loving Asshole and an Immigrant Financial Loving Asshole [Jamilton]

Say No To This But With a French-Loving Asshole

    Alexander was obviously stressed. The bags under his eyes were more noticeable than the stars in the sky. His wife, sister, and children were gone with his father in law for vacation. No matter how much they begged Alex to go with them, there was no way he could.
    Congress was beginning to annoy Hamilton even more. Alexander doubted they even looked at his plans. Though, there was one man who topped the list when it came to Alexander's top ten causes of stress. Thomas Jefferson. The man had just come back from France. As soon as he came back to Virginia, he was sent up to New York to begin his new job as Secretary of State. Hamilton got a bad feeling as soon as he shook the man's hand. The feeling of uncertainty.
    Alexander flopped down in his chair and sighed. What else was there to do? It's the middle of the night, and endless and endless amounts of anxiety and tasks to do ran through his mind. Relaxation was not an option as this point. Alexander began to get out pen and paper to write to his beloved wife, Eliza, when there was a sudden knock at the door.
    Annoyed immediately, Alexander cursed under his breath. Since he was in no rush, he gladly took his time walking to the front door. There was three more knocks at the door.
    "Jesus, hold your horses, it can't be that important," Alex scolded.
    The sounds of latches unlocking filled the empty house, and was followed by a short gasp.
    Thomas Jefferson.
     "Speak of the devil," said Alex, rudely.
      "Now, is that any way to speak to you fellow cabinet member?" questioned Jefferson with a scowl. Alexander hated the way he was overconfident in everything.
      "I don't understand why President Washington picked you for Secretary of State. Out of all the people to choose from, he picks you. The guy that spent his career in FRANCE! In Europe! You know who else is in Europe? King George. Next thing you know, you'll be convincing the French to try to over through America! Well you know what, you curly haired mother-"
   "Alexander! Shut up! I'm not here to talk politics!" yelled Thomas as he shoved himself past Alexander, into the house.
    "Damn, it's cold out there. How do you manage to keep warm?" questioned Thomas, while taking off his wool scarf.
     "Why are you here? Don't you have something else to do? Maybe Sally Hemings?" said Alex sarcastically with a smirk.
    Thomas bit back his tongue. No one seemed to believe him when he said he doesn't have an affair with the mixed slave.
    "This is a decent place you got here," remarked Jefferson, quickly changing the subject. Alexander raised an eyebrow at him, but went with the flow.
    "Uh, yeah, thanks. Its my own. Well, also Eliza's too, and...well you know what I mean," stuttered Alexander.
     Thomas walked around the house, taking in every single detail of the walls, floors, and ceilings. Alexander followed him around like a puppy dog. Your political enemy just doesn't show up at your door alone. Thomas Jefferson started walking towards Alexander's room, where all his hundreds and hundreds, maybe even thousands, of papers lay on his desks. Alexander's writing, even the simple letters, were extremely important to him. They were more than just ink on paper.
   "Ever heard of organizing, Hamilton?" asked Jefferson as he picked up a few papers off the floor.
   Alexander suddenly got furious when Thomas's long fingers touched his work. He stomped over to him and snatched the papers from Jefferson's hands. Thomas quickly turned and stared at the shorter boy with a startled look on his face.
   "What did you really come here for, Thomas? Just to annoy me? Ruin my things? Spy on me so you can publish my untidy-ness in the newspaper? I hope you know I FOUNDED the New York Post!" snapped Alexander, hotly.
  "No, no, non of that, Alex. You see, I was just a bit...lonely tonight. I knew you were going to be home alone tonight, so I thought it'd be nice to give an ol' friend a visit," smirked Thomas.
   Jefferson began circling the shorter immigrant, speaking what seemed like gibberish to Alex. The only thing he could focus on was why Jefferson was there, and why he was acting in such a way. Thomas stopped circling Alexander, and faced his back. He bent down far enough where his mouth reached Alexander's ear, and slithered his arm down to Hamilton's backside, while whispering a seductive "it'd be warmer with you".
   Hamilton quickly tore himself from Jefferson's grip.
   "W-what? What are you doing? Hey! Get away from me!" shouted Alexander, obviously flustered.
   "Really? The infamous Alexander Hamilton backing away from a challenge? Is it...you're scared?" taunted Thomas, while walking towards Alexander.
   Alex felt the color rise to his face once more.
"Me? Scared? I'm not sure where you'd get that idea from! I've publicly bad mouthed every politician I dislike, I would never be afraid of Thomas Jefferson touching me!" shouted Alexander again, trying to match the confidence Thomas obviously has.
  "Oh, really? Let's test that theory then..." said Jefferson hotly, walking over to Alexander and quickly grabbing both wrists and pinning the short boy to the wall.
   Alex soon realized he could not overpower the strongly-built man. As soon as Jefferson's cold lips touched Alexander's neck, the weaker boy stiffened up like a board, but then quickly got used to the feeling and relaxed.
   Though, the rest is history, according to "The Jefferson Pamphlet".