Jamilton Oneshots.

Discussions of Murder Part One (4/10 spice)

Alex can't tell whether he wants to murder or fuck someone. Maybe both (i.e. necrophilia). Because today, he has no choice but to study with his mortal enemy/gay-ass crush. Who ever thought it possible to experience so much hate and love at the same time?
He grumbles various obscenities as he makes his way down the hallway to Thomas's dorm. The door is opened before he can even knock, and a sly-looking Thomas greets him with a smirk. He knows exactly how much this visit pains Alex.
"Come on in, Alexander," he says cheerfully.
"'Come on in' my fucking ass," he mutters under his breath.
"Not a bad offer," Thomas grins, wiggling his eyebrows like the asshole he is.
Alex's face goes bright red with anger and/or embarrassment.

"So, what is the powerhouse of the cell?"
"Don't act like I'm fucking stupid. Give me the hard shit, Jeffershit," Alex grumbles, crossing his arms and looking away.
"Do you know the answer?"
"Of course I do! Fucking mitochondria. Give me something hard now."
"Hmm," Thomas pauses as if in deep consideration. "That's what sh--"
"sHuT tHe FUCK uP."
"Your fault. Now..." he says, sifting through the biology review paper. The test is tomorrow, and they're both confident they're gonna fail. Thomas asks another question, and Alexander answers it incorrectly, according to Thomas. And so a huge fight over who is right ensues, and Alex gets so heated at one point, that he stands up, fists clenched. To which Thomas reacts with fits of laughter.
"Oh my God. You're so fucking cute when you're angry."
"The fuck did you just say to me, you little bitch!?"
"Oh my God." After his laughter dies down, he pats the spot beside him on the bed. "Sit back down, Alex."
"You're not my dad!"
"Sit, son."
"Shut up, Washington!"
"Sit your ass down, Alex."
"Ugh," he grumbles as he complies.
Thomas smiles, going back to his studying. Then he hands Alexander some papers. "Here, look at these. Diagrams of the cell and some shit."
"This one looks like a penis," he notes, nodding intellectually.
"That's what I thought."

Barely an hour into studying, making dick jokes, and threatening to murder each other, and Alex is getting exhausted. You'd think the guy who stays up until ungodly times in the morning writing, wouldn't let sleep take him over so easily, but there's a huge difference between English and science. Alexander has no interest in wearing lab coats and conducting experiments until he loses his mind, so what's the point of even trying now?
And the exhaustion is so strong, he doesn't even realize he's laughing at Thomas's retarded jokes.
"How do you find the sex of a chromosome? You pull its genes/jeans down." Alex lets out an ungodly snort at this.
"What do teenage boys and helicases have in common? They both want to unzip your genes/jeans." Another bout of laughter from Alex. What can he say? He's a sucker for sexual jokes and education. Put them together, and you have a satisfied Alexander.
His eyelids start to feel heavier, and before he knows it, his head drops to Thomas's shoulder.
Thomas almost drops his book and papers in surprise, but he quickly regains his composure. Because it's actually quite adorable, seeing the aggressive dick that is Alexander, only with a peaceful smile and a shut mouth for once. That never happens. Thank God for sleep.
And now he can't look away. It's just so enchanting, and Alex is a whole lot cuter in his sleep. Learn to smile sometime, bitch.
He lowers his book, a small smirk making its way onto his face. He could take a picture of this moment and keep it forever--or, of course, he could post it on Instagram for the whole school to see, thus ruining Alex's reputation. But that was something Old Thomas would do. The New And Improved Thomas thinks things through and may or may not have the smallest liking towards Alexander.
He sighs, wishing that Alex would stop being such an oblivious bitch for a moment. But that was probably asking too much. Alex is stubborn and an asshole.
He purses his lips, peering at the sleeping Alex. His mouth is ajar, and his hands sit in his own lap, the papers he once held now spilt on the floor. He finds himself staring and feels the light beating of his heart. It's slowly speeding up.
He swallows, lightly taking Alex by the shoulders and lying him onto the bed. It really is the cutest sight, and Thomas can't keep the smile from forming. He sits there on the side of the bed, just watching Alex; he doesn't even realize he's doing it. Not until a few minutes have passed, and it finally seems to click. And he still can't seem to tear his eyes away, because Alexander Hamilton is mesmerizing. He feels an unbelievable warmth spread through his body, while smiling like an idiot. Why does he love this moment? They're supposed to be opposites, they're supposed to hate each other. What is this feeling, so sudden and new? Actually, it's been there all along; he just never acknowledged it, not until now.
His face goes red as a sudden urge overwhelms him. He wants to touch Alexander. Not like a perverted grope or some shit (he wouldn't sexually assault Alex in his sleep--or when he's awake), but to touch his hand, maybe just a light graze of the skin. He just wants to be in contact with him.
He nearly chokes on his spit when he realizes the extent of the thoughts crossing his mind. This has never been a problem for him before. What the fuck is happening?
He flinches when Alex stirs a little. And this unhealthy desire to touch him is so strong, that he stands up and leaves the room. His self-control is drying up, and he fears one more second with Alex, and he'll lose all of it.