The World Turned Upside Down // Jamilton

19 || Checking Out (In Every Way Possible)

One Week Later...

~×~

A huge relief fell over Alexander as the nurse pulled out his IV. His now few bandages were replaced and he was given a roll of gauze for later. Barely healed scars scattered every part of his body, from his jawline to his toes. The only places King kept untouched were his left hand, right leg, and crotch area (inner thigh, groin), thank the heavens.

Finally, it was time to go home.

After 8 whole days of disgusting and bland hospital food, he was prepared to take up Jefferson's date offer immediately.

Alex locked the door behind the nurses as they kindly bid him goodbye, slipping off his blue hospital gown and old underwear and replacing it with some new boxers, clean, gray sweatpants, and a black Twenty One Pilots tank that read, "Stressed Øut". He had kept it from when he was in his early 20's; John had brought the outfit over a few hours ago.

Just as he pulled on his top, someone knocked loudly on his door.

"Just a sec." Hamilton muttered, stuffing his cellphone and apartment keys into his pocket before unlocking and opening the door.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" Thomas drawled, leaning heavily on his crutches and biting his lip as he dragged his gaze slowly down Alexander's body. He still wore his gown, but his IV cart was nowhere in sight.

Jefferson had healed a lot over the past week, going from barely being able to get out of bed to exploring the halls at night on his new crutches. While his leg had been spared from amputation, that didn't mean it was completely fine and healthy. It had taken most of the shrapnel, so it was crippled and very weak. The doctors doubted a full recovery, but Thomas kept his hopes high.

Alexander grinned, holding onto the door frame as he reached forward and pecked the unfairly tall man on the lips.

"Move out the way, you big oaf," Alex teased. Thomas swung his crutches back and moved a few inches away, allowing Hamilton to exit Room #1776 for- hopefully- the last time.

Alex followed Thomas down the long hallway to Room #1789.
"When are you leaving?" He asked.

"In an hour or so." Thomas replied, clamping his right crutch in his elbow and twisting open his room door.

Alex flipped on the light as Thomas limped forward and situated himself on the side of the bed. Alex threw himself onto the sofa closest to Thomas.

Alex watched Thomas as he leaned his crutches on the side of the mattress, grabbed a hairbrush that lied on a nightstand beside the bed, and began pulling it through his tangled curls. Hamilton couldn't help but think about how cute Thomas was sometimes.

"So," Alex said, watching the rhythmic movement of the brush flowing through Thomas' fluffy curls. "Where are we goin' after you're let outta prison?"

Thomas chuckled. "I don't know. What do you like? Chinese, Mexican, American..."

"Hm..." Alex hummed, smirking wickedly. "I have to say, I really enjoy me some delicious and nutritous, Thomas Jefferson."

Thomas' brushing paused, looking at Alex for a second before bursting out in laughter, his face tinted a sharp shade of red. "You little fucker."

"Oui, I am little, and I'm planning on the second part later." Alex winked, which made Thomas double over in laughter and drop his brush with a clatter.

Alex snorted, before standing up and making his way over to Thomas. He curled his hands into his hair and forced him to stare up into his dark gaze. Thomas' breath hitched.