Eacker gripped the chair he was sitting in as the doctor picked bits of glass out of his hand.
Hamilton sat nearby, holding his shoulder that Eacker had apparently dislocated, and had just been put back in place. He glared when he noticed Eacker staring.
"That's all of it." The doctor said, placing the last bit of bloody glass on the tray nearby.
A nurse came in and bandaged Eacker's hand while Hamilton was checked over again.
"Both of you are free to go." The doctor said "Be careful with your left arm, Mr.Hamilton. Mr.Eacker, be sure to let the cuts on your right hand heal, as well be careful with your nose, and come back in a week so we can take the cast off."
Together, Hamilton and Eacker left the building.
Eacker had expected Hamilton to walk the other way, but instead they had to walk down the sidewalk together.
"Thanks for not only shooting me, but disclocating my fucking arm as well." Hamilton said sarcastically from behind Eacker.
"Thanks for breaking my nose." Eacker replied.
"At least I didn't start the fight!" Hamilton yelled.
A woman looked out her window at the commotion on the dark street below.
"If we're going back to two years ago, you kind of did." Eacker said, continuing to walk so the woman wouldn't be able to watch them.
"Well I never planned on shooting you!" Hamilton yelled.
"Then why'd you challenge me to a duel in the first place?!" Eacker said, whipping around to face Hamilton.
"Because you're a fucking bitch." Hamilton said, their faces inches apart.
"Like you're any better." Eacker scoffed at the smaller man.
"At least I didn't shoot anyone."
"Please, I doubt you even have a scar." Eacker said.
"Actually, I fucking do!" Hamilton argued, untucking his shirt and lifting it up to show Eacker the scar.
Eacker turned around, blushing because of Hamilton's freckled stomach and hips.
"Goodnight, Hamilton." He said sternly, turning off on the street that happened to be his.
As Eacker approached his house, he mentally scolded himself for blushing so hard just because of stupid fucking Hamilton.
YOU ARE READING
The Second Shot
FanfictionIn 1801 George Eacker shot Philip Hamilton just above his hip. Apparently Philip survived, but George never cared enough to visit him. He wasn't sorry, anyways. Two years later George attends a ball, and Philip shows up suddenly. Is this the second...
