Lams One-Shots

Picture Perfect

John loved polaroids. The satisfaction of your picture printing out of the camera, the flash that lit up the room and illuminated smiles. The way you can hang them up on your wall.

He loved taking pictures of beauty, of beautiful people and beautiful smiles. And one person had the prettiest smile of anyone he'd ever seen.

Alexander Hamilton.

John wasn't friends with Alexander (though once Alex had asked him to borrow his eraser and John squealed for a solid five minutes in the bathroom (god he was desperate)). But he knew his smile. It lit up cities, god it was perfect. 

And John wanted nothing more to snap a picture of it. It wasn't that he was a stalker, but the way the young boy smiled touched John. The way his shoulders fell back, his chest thrust out. His face tilted, just the slightest bit. The side of his eyes crinkled, endearingly and his lips were warm. And John fell apart every time. 

John was the photographer for the yearbook, and he as supposed to take pictures of the valedictorians. And he was happy (but not surprised) to find that Alexander was one of them. 

It was no wonder, Alexander was the wonder boy of the school. He had everything, the smart brain. The looks, his charming boyish vibe that had guys, gals and non-binary pals swooning left and right. He was dating the prettiest girl in the school, Eliza Schuyler and had a line of people waiting to date him if he ever broke up with her. 

John pushed open the doors to the photo area to see Alexander, sitting on one of the desks, talking to his best friend (and fellow valedictorian for his class) Thomas Jefferson.

"Oh, hi guys,"John said, stuffy his sweaty palm awkwardly in his pockets. Just the presence of Alexander made John's cheeks feel as though they were on fire. 

"Hi," Alexander offered, smoothly. When Thomas said nothing, Alex nudged him.

"Hello," Thomas said, rolling his eyes in Alex's direction. John chuckled, nervously. He glanced at the others in the room. Angelica Schuyler was one, to no one's surprise. So was James Madison and Aaron Burr, who were talking in a corner.

"Um, so I'll do a picture of you guys individually then all together," John said, grabbing his (unfortunately not polaroid) camera from the table where it was balancing. "Is that alright?"

The others murmured in agreement and John went to set up his tripod in front of the green screen, where they would insert a black filter with neon lights behind each person. 

"Uh, okay, first up Aaron Burr," John called. And so it went, person after person until John called Alexander's name and the boy stepped forward.

He was wearing a blue suit, white button down, striped tie and a pair of slim fitting jeans. And John had a heart attack, right then and there. 

Alexander caught John staring at his outfit and laughed out loud. "Too much? Sorry, I don't have many fancy clothes and Thomas told me I couldn't wear just a plain old t-shirt."

"N-no," John stuttered out. "It looks...you look great." John could've hit himself there, he sounded like a fangirl meeting their favorite band member. "Sorry, let's get started. Do any pose comfortable for you." 

Alex nodded and leaned forward, fiddling with the sleeve of his blue suit and looked to the left. John almost forgot to take the picture, as he stared. 

"That's nice," John commented, then shyly added, "though a smile might be nice as well." 

Alexander looked at him, wide-eyed. Then a soft blush spread over his cheeks and his eyes cast downward. "Heh, maybe. I'm a little self conscious about my smile."

"Why?" John asked, sharply. Too sharply and he slapped a hand over his mouth. Damnit, John, you can't just say things like that, he scolded himself. 

"I dunno, guess it just doesn't look right."

"I think it's a great smile, but up to you," John managed to stutter out.

"Here, I'll try. I don't have an eye for photographs, so you might have a better opinion." So Alexander sat on the stool and have his brightest smile. It was one of those smiles that assured you that things would work out. A smile to light up nations. A smile to kill one John Laurens in the process. 

"I-I love it," John muttered. "You look great."

Alexander stared at him for a second. Then his face broke out in another genuine grin. (I must have died and gone to heaven, John thought). 

"You're nice, John."

"You know my name?" John asked, hazel eyes wide.

"Course I know you're name. You're in my social studies class, I asked you for an eraser once and you blushed so hard you looked like you were flat out drunk. It was adorable."

"Oi, Alexander, stop flirting with the photographer and get over here!" Thomas called from the other side of the room. 

"Well, thanks for the pictures John."

"Thanks for the smile."

Alexander winked and jogged over to Thomas. 

As John put away his camera, he realized he never got a picture from his polaroid. He grabbed it and did the most impulsive thing he ever did in his life. He ran after Alexander. 

"Sorry, can you smile for the camera one more time?" John asked, sheepishly. Alexander looked confused but he did and John's camera gave a flash then a soft whirling sound as it printed. A goody grin spread on John's lips. 

"Thanks, Alex!" he called as he ran back to the photography room. 

When he closed to door, he looked at the picture. Alexander was beaming, the picture John always wanted. A light pink dusted John's cheeks as he held the picture to his chest, chuckling. Alexander Hamilton's smile was picture perfect. 

Alexander couldn't help the laugh from erupting from his chest as he turned back around. He felt Thomas nudge him with his elbow.

"You have a crush."

"I do not, asshole."

"You do too, jerkface."

"So what if I do?"

"You're dating Eliza, you dumbass."

nice™ thomas jefferson and platonic, best friend jamilton is my shit

this has been a psa