Hamilton One Shots

{Jamilton} Sick Day (61)

▲▽Alexander Hamilton's P.O.V.▼△
★Modern AU ★
★・・・・・・★ ・・・・・・★

The office was quiet today, for once. That's only because Thomas Jefferson didn't show up for work, not that I didn't mind the silence. It only bothered me because there was nothing to do all day. Washington had planned a meeting today, but was canceled when Jefferson didn't show. Or at least I didn't know if he just ditched work or if he called.

The clock in my office ticked as I stared at the paper in front of me. It was full of words that I didn't feel like rereading for the hundredth time. It felt like a waste if I was bored. It wouldn't fulfill my boredom. Taking my phone out, I called Lafayette. Maybe he would know where Jefferson was.

Placing in the respected numbers for Laf's phone number, I pressed the phone against my ear as it rang. "Hello?" The Frenchman's voice rang through the phone.

"Monsieur Lafayette! I have a question for you," I replied with a worried tone, which was unusual.

"What is it, mon amie?"

"Where's Jefferson? Is he sick? He isn't in the office and he didn't show up for work," I rambled a bit, but stopped myself before I could say something I didn't want to.

Lafayette's side of the call was silent for a few seconds. "Mon cousin texted me earlier, mon amie. He said he was sick and couldn't come over for the, how you say, 'get together'."

"Merci, Laf. I just was curious," I replied.

"Au revoir," Lafayette ended the call quickly, which was usual. He did have the day off, to say at the least.

I decided to stand up and make my way out of work, passing by Washington's office to say I was leaving. I knew he wanted to push questions on me, but decided against it as I left his office in a hurry. I wasn't sure where my body wanted to go, but I let it lead since I couldn't control it.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

I stood outside of Jeffer-Shit's apartment, the rate my heart was at sped up as my knuckles touched the door. Shuffling could be heard before the sound of a lock and the door opening to reveal a lazy (but hot) looking Jefferson. His hair was crazier than usual, which is saying something, and he had dark circles under his eyes. They weren't as bad as mine, but still something that worried me.

"Hamilton? What the hell are you doing at my apartment?" Jefferson's voice was almost completely gone. His throat must've been sore because it sounded like it hurt to speak.

"Can I come in?" My voice spoke out before I could even think of what to say. With a silent, yet slow, nod, Jefferson let me into his apartment.

I followed him and shut the door behind me.  "Are you alright?" I asked as I walked towards him.

He sat down on the couch with a drawn out sigh, looking at the TV that was muted.  "Yes, I am, Hamilton," even if he was sick, I could still feel his sassiness radiating off of him.  "Why are you here?"

I wasn't sure of the answer myself.  I looked at him.  His face looked a little more pale than I remember, his eyes a bit darker.  I felt a weight in my stomach, trying to tell me something but not knowing how to say it.  "Well, spit it out, Hamilton."