Jamilton Oneshots

Hospital Time Bitch

Thomas's POV

I snorted. 

"In Virginia, we like to see a man stand up and say sorry. Where are you from?" 

I smirked at Hamilton, waiting to hear his response. He glared at me. 

"Me? I'm from the United States of suck my-" 

 Washington bolted up. 

"Alright, lunch break!"

 He shouted. I gave Hamilton a smug look. 

"You got censored by Washington." 

I said. Hamilton exhaled, rolling his eyes. I snickered. 

"Jefferson, you're a stupid--half-baked--moronic--thick, brainless--I can't even find the words to describe you!"

 I counted on my fingers. 

"Well, you just found--one, two, three, four, five--Five words to do so. It's not impossible!" 

I said with a grin. Hamilton turned in a huff and stormed off. I trotted off, satisfied with my victory. I loved it when Hamilton got mad. It gave me a happy feeling. Pushing open the door to my office, I promptly tripped. 

I toppled over something and bashed my arm. Angrily I stood up and saw someone had left a pile of books just in my way. There was a note on the top book. I picked it up and read it. 

"Dear Thomas,

Fuck you."

Very sincerely,

Alexander"

I smiled, still clutching my arm, and took a pin. 

I stood up and walked over to behind my desk. I pulled a cord and the curtain pulled back, revealing a cork board full of notes and papers from Hamilton. 

Mostly they carried the same message: I hate you. The literal words were assorted and changed from note to note. Sometimes they said 

"You're a dick"

 or 

"go to the grave, motherfucker" 

but I knew the true meaning behind them. Coping mechanism! He liked me, of course! What other reason would he take so much time in seeming, insulting, tripping, pushing, fighting, and other attacks that are probably waiting to happen, if he didn't like me? 

I petted my hair. It was so pretty. So fluffy. I knew  Hamilton must love it too. 

Hamilton's POV

It was my turn to smirk. Judging from the thump through the walls, Jefferson had fallen for my trap, literally. 

I reclined in my chair. Jefferson may have possibly beat me in the cabinet meeting, but it was score one for Alexander.

 I heard some laughing. I shot up. No. He was not laughing at my trap. I ran from the room and burst into Jefferson's office. I tripped over the books, rolled, and smacked into his desk. 

I sprang back up, my head feeling like it had been cracked open. And made a confused noise. Jefferson was standing proudly in front of a cork board. I looked closely. 

The hundreds of notes pinned on it...were mine. All the little insults I had written to Jefferson. Well, there was about five pages of just me ranting about how much Jefferson sucked. But I was grumpy and also I hate Jefferson a lot.

 I couldn't believe it, everything I had ever written to Jefferson was on a cork board. I had just assumed that he had thrown them away, but no.