Thaurens One-shots

No need for a pamphlet.

Requested by: Kittycatkeke

Prompt 4: "Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge."
"Can I pick?"

Warning: John speaks some Spanish. Also, Thomas is a cheATING SON OF A BI-
*****

John's POV

Eliza and I sat on a park bench eating ice cream in the hot-as-fuck Arizona sun. We spoke about her relationship with Maria Lewis and my relationship with Thomas Jefferson.

"I'm telling you, John," Eliza said and paused to eat some of her ice cream. "Thaurens is the best relationship!" I looked at her with confusion.

"Uh.. Betsy, what's "Thaurens"?" I questioned, blinking a few times.

"Oh- that's the ship name for you and Thomas! It's like, Thomas and Laurens mashed together!" She shrugged with a smile. Then froze. "But that might not work for long. I mean, you two are engaged.. and you're taking his name.. and you have a kid...." she thought about it and I laughed.

Yeah, Thomas and I had a child; Rachel Jefferson. She was three years old.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I took it out and checked it.

'That's odd,' I thought. 'Dad never text me..' and before any confusion, no, I wasn't not talking about Henry Laurens. That man was dead to me the moment he said black people are worth less than us.

My dad's name was George Washington, and no he isn't my dad by blood, but he calls me son and I call him dad, since his son Alexander is like a brother to me..

ANYWAY.

Dad

Dad: [you might want to
         check this out..]

Dad sent an image that showed Thomas making out with some girl. The date if the photo was today.

My heart sunk so drastically it crashed and burst into a zillion pieces. I covered my mouth. I felt sick.

"John..?" Eliza said. "What's wrong?" I didn't say as much as a word before I sprinted out of the park and home, where I heard... noises... indescribable noises... coming from our bedroom. With some hesitation, I opened the door quickly, just like ripping off a bandaid.

In our room -- in our bed -- I saw my fiance and the same girl as in the picture, fully naked together. Thomas' eyes widened as he saw me.

"John--" instead of freaking out or crying, I just nodded sadly and slowly closed the door. I went to the living room and grabbed my charger, sketchbook, pencils and some money, then I walked out of the house.

I dialed a number.

"Hey.." I mumbled as the person on the other line picked up. My voice was raspy and unstable from crying. "It's me.. Can I stay with you for a while..?" The other line was quiet for some time.

"Of course." Francis spoke.

*** three years later ***

I stayed together with Francis Kinloch, my best friend for years, and I had ever since the incident occurred. I hadn't spoken to Thomas since then either. It hurt just thinking about him.

If my life was a teenage novel, or just a story, I'm sure I would've had flowers growing in my lungs. But it wasn't. It wasn't a story.

I took Rachel with me when I left, and she was now six.

I sighed.

"Mommy?" Rachel said from beside me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, buttercup?" I looked at her. She looked so much like..

"Where is my daddy?" I froze. Her light brown eyes showed many emotions; sadness, curiosity and a hint of fear. I've told her that we never talk about her father. Not after what he did.

"He's right here." Francis walked into the room with an apologetic smile and grabbed a soda. Both Rachel and I looked at him in confusion.

As he opened his soda and took a sip, he looked towards us. Then he looked to the door. He let out a frustrated sigh and walked out, then comes back. This time, he was holding a man. A familiar man. The man looked towards me with an apologetic, awkward smile, to which I gasp.

"Ay dios mijo," I mumbled under my breath, my eyes darkening. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here!" I stood from my seat and walked over to him. I grabbed him by the collar. He gulped.

As if on command, Francis took Rachel's hand and walked out. Thomas laughed nervously.

"Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge." My voice was low in anger.

"Can I pick?" A cheap smile covered Thomas' face. I couldn't help but chuckle. We just stood there in silence. Actual.. comfortable silence. Before I knew it, I had grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him in for a rough kiss.

'God,' I thought. 'I've missed the taste of his lips..'

When I pulled away, Thomas was flustered.

"You drive me completely loco, señor." I breathed, still so close to his face that I felt my own breath mirror back.

"Yeah? Well you drive me fou, monsieur." Thomas whispered back. I giggled at his silliness. He had no idea that he just copied what I said.

"God I've missed you, mon chaton."

"And I you, mi corazón."