Jamilton Oneshots

Schoolyard Games

So this au is Hamilton is staying at Thomas's house and Hamilton is visiting and yeah.

I walked in the front door, my bags in hand. I was staying at our family friend's, the Jeffersons, house for a month while my mom and dad went on a trip together. 

Little did they know that Thomas Jefferson and I didn't get along too well. I could rant about him for days and the stupid idiot would grin and say that I would have to be thinking a lot about him to come up with all that. Or I would complain that he was always calling me Alex and he would laugh and say 

"Oh Alex, you sweet widdle--" 

I remembered when he had said that to me. I had slapped him upside the head, blushing madly. He didn't finish that sentence. I still don't know what he would have said. Baby, maybe. I tightened my hand on the handle of my duffel. I knew that deep, deep, deep, deep down in my heart, some barren corner of my artery liked Thomas calling me baby, but didn't everyone?

 He was attractive, he was funny when he wanted to be, charming when he wanted to be, and gosh darn it, he was more or less perfect in everyone else's eyes but mine.  It's like nobody ever saw what a little poop he was, how annoying he was, or anything. Just saw his good parts. 

I set my bag down as Mrs. Jefferson came up to me. She was a lovely lady, with bouncy red curls and a motherly look.

 "Oh, hel-lo darling!" 

Her southern accent was more or less the same as Thomas's--meaning, very strong. I smiled and hugged her sideways. Thomas came in, a checkered magenta sweater on his long arms. He flashed me a smile and took my bag. 

I raised an eyebrow suspiciously, glad that Jane was so intent on taking my bags she didn't notice. I wanted badly to flip Thomas off, but Jane was watching, and I didn't want her to see that. 

We took our bags into my temporary bedroom and I flopped across the bed, glad that I could finally rest after a couple hours spent packing. My five books aren't going to be a match for my immense boredom. Someone knocked on my doorframe. 

"Mwuphhh?" 

I mumbled, lifting my eyes from the pillow. I saw it was Thomas and let my head fall back again. 

"You never even said hello." 

I grunted. I could practically see his smile. 

"Your point?"

 I heard a sigh. 

"Alex--"

 I rolled off my stomach.

 "Don't call me Alex." 

Thomas smiled, probably intending on calling me Alex for the rest of eternity. I imagined him talking at my funeral.

 "Alex was a great person. So charismatic. Everyone loved him. Absolutely everyone." 

I felt a poke in my stomach. I instinctively curled my legs in.

 "Earth to Alex!" 

came Thomas's voice. I mumbled something and lifted myself up. Thomas was standing over me, his arm extended. I slapped it away.

 "You expect me to take that?" 

I growled. Thomas laughed and withdrew his hand. Suddenly he fake-slapped me for no reason. I flinched and fell forwards. Thomas caught me and pushed me back up.

 I murmured a thanks. Suddenly I felt Thomas's face next to my ear.

 "I didn't hear you..."

 He whispered. I shoved him away. "Who are you, Christian Grey? More importantly, what the fuck?!" I said indignantly. Thomas laughed and picked me up.