Requested by XxUntitledxX
[Reader's POV]
John walked around the circle with a hat full of names written on slips of paper. Every year my brother Aaron Burr helps James Madison arranges a Secret Santa event. I convinced them that we needed more people than just the four of us. James, Thomas, Aaron, and I being the four.
James was the first give in, and now the Secret Santa includes James, Thomas, Aaron, Alexander, John, Eliza, Angelica, Peggy, and yours truly.
In past years, I've gotten John a sketchbook, Eliza a new dress, and Peggy a hamster. She named him PomPom and, yes, she's good at taking care of him without her sisters' help.
Anyway, back to the story.
As John passed by me, I pulled my slip of paper out of the hat.
Please be an easy one...
Thomas friggin Jefferson. I got Thomas. The man that's impossible to please. And to top it off, I hardly know him. All I know is that he's really cute.
I slip my paper into my back pocket and avoid eye contact with anyone, as to not give away who I got.
I peeked at Aaron's paper and giggled when I saw that he got Alexander. Aaron then proceeded to lightly kick my leg.
I look up to see if any one looks particularly suspicious. Eliza is lost in thought, Angelica is mentally listing things while counting on her fingers, Peggy looks intensely confused, Alexander looks prepared, James is trying not to look suspicious, John is smiling, Aaron looks pissed, and Thomas and I make eye contact before quickly looking away.
Do I look that suspicious?
My thoughts are swept aside as John explains the rules again.
We get a week to find a gift, and we have to put it under the tree by Friday, or your gift is disqualified.
It's brutal. Peggy barely made it last year. She got me a cute pair of shoes though. They're my current favorite.
The group went separate ways and the next day I went with my brother to the marketplace.
"Aaron?" I asked quietly as we walk towards the marketplace as we do each year after the name drawing.
"Yes, (Y/n)?" He keeps his head forward as he walks. His hands are linked behind his back and he seems calm, but we both know he isn't.
"What does Mr. Jefferson like?" I ask quietly, as if we're being watched. There are no rules against telling each other who you got, but you have to be careful because they can tell said person.
"Politics," He says.
"Aaron, I can't wrap a government," I giggle, "What else does he like?"
"He likes fashion," He chuckles.
"Fashion. It's kinda obvious but what would he want?" I ask, somewhat rhetorically.
"That's for you to decide, (Y/n)," We walk into the clothes parlor. I see a flash of magenta out of the corner of my eye.
