Hamilton one-shots

Druken Love (Lafayette x Reader)

Characters: Lafayette x Reader, Hercules Mulligan, John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton

TW: Drinking, making out

“LAF!” you yelled upon seeing your friend walk in the bar. You slid over, effectively squishing John to the wall. Gilbert flashed a smile that would’ve made any girls’s panties drop, and waved. He swiftly took the seat beside yours, shrugging off his jacket while doing so. You were hit with a wave of his cologne, and you were ready to crawl on his lap. “Laf,” you whined, nudging your head on his head. “I’m tired.” 

“Mon ami, you’re always tired when you drink.” He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“But Laf!” you drawled out his name. “I wanna go home.“

“Mon ami, I just got here.” 

“Fine! I’ll go home by myself,” you huffed, pushing him out of the way. 

“Non, non!” He sat firm, not allowing you to move him by an inch. “You are not going home by myself.” 

“I want to go home Laffy Taffy!” 

“In a minute, okay?” Gilbert started conversing with the other boys, sipping on his beer while you tried to stay awake. Alexander was on his laptop, John was excitedly telling a story about how he got arrested for peeing in public once, and Hercules was booming with laughters. You felt bad for clinging onto Gilbert, but he was the only you trusted to take you home safely without making bad decisions on the way. Last time John took you home, you were both drunk, and got a pet iguana- from where, you did not know. But now, John has a pet iguana to go with his turtle. 

“Uh, Laf?” John called his friend. “I think Y/N’s asleep.” 

And you were out like a light, leaning on John’s shoulder with no care in the world. 

“I guess it’s time to take the princesse home.” Gilbert grabbed his jacket, and picked Y/N up. Luckily he had a car. 

“Lemme help you,” Hercules offered sympathetically. He helped open the doors to the bar, and Gilbert’s car, wishing him good luck before going back in the bar. 

“Oh mon chou, what am I going to do with you?” Gilbert laughed, shaking his head. He drove you to your apartment, using the spare key you had given him, and made your way to your bedroom. It was almost second nature to the Frenchman. He no longer struggled getting the doors open, or hesitating to press the elevator button in fear on hitting your body parts. It was like clockwork. He gingerly placed you on your bed, taking off your shoes, and stripping your jacket. Then, he placed the blankets over you while taking the time to stroke your face gently. You stirred, paling in and out of consciousness during the time you were with Gilbert. He grabbed the water from your nightstand, and placed it near your lips, urging you to drink the whole glass. “Mon amour, vous êtes à beau. (My love, you are so beautiful.)” You’ve always noticed how his voice gets lower when he speaks in his native language, and it made butterflies fly in your stomach. You felt yourself lose your battle to sleep again, but you fought to stay awake, wanting to revel in this tender moment with Gilbert. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your cheek. “I love you.” 

Your heart stopped. With those three words, you were pulled back to your sleep. You barely heard the door closing when he was leaving. 

The next morning you woke up with a minor headache, grateful for the fact that Gilbert always made you drink some water after a night of drinking so you wouldn’t get a headache. You rubbed your eyes, recalling the night. Your heart skipped a beat when you remembered the last words Gilbert said to you before you fell asleep. Did you imagine it?