Jamilton Oneshots

oFfEnSiVe

Thomas

I glared at Alexander from across the room. There he was, always, looking all triumphant and smug and stupid. God, I hated that thing. He wasn't even a person really, he was like a robot that spewed out insults and stupid arguments and was fueled by coffee. Suddenly he stood up and made his way over to me. I gave him the stink eye. He rolled his eyes. 

"Stop thinking everyone's your equal, Hamilton, you're offending a lot of people." 

I said, allowing myself a smirk. Alexander huffed. 

"I sure hope there's a lifeguard in your gene pool, Jefferson." 

He snarked back. 

"Your head is so far up your own ass you could lick your tonsils."

 I growled. Alexander scowled.

 "Go ahead and-" 

I cut across him. 

"You're kind of like Rapunzel, but instead of letting your hair down you let down everyone in your life." 

He rolled his eyes.  

"You—"

"You're a bastard immigrant orphan that nobody really likes and is only here because everyone pities you." 

I said. Winning comment goes to me, right? 

Alexander was silent. I sat back in my chair, waiting for his smartass reply. Hamilton took a deep breath and muttered something. He turned and walked quickly out of the room. I watched him go, a little surprised. What was up? I stood and followed his retreating footsteps. I had a gut feeling something was wrong, and I always listened to my gut.

Alexander

I quietly shut the closet door. The lock jiggled as I jammed my thumb into it. I cursed under my breath. The lock was broken. I slumped against the wall. It wasn't like someone was going to come looking for me, was it? I thought miserably. Yeah, Thomas Jefferson or someone like that would go looking for me.

Suddenly I heard footsteps. I froze, not really worried. Just instinct, really. I went back to imagining my death. And then Thomas's death. And then everyone leaving my funeral to go to his. And then my coffin sitting alone in the rain, water dotting my shirt as I lie in the coffin. Ah, death. The sweet release. If I hadn't been daydreaming about my demise, maybe I would have heard the footsteps pause and been prepared when a tall figure burst into the dark closet. 

I screamed and banged my head on the shelf above me. I stood up, dazed, and managed to get my foot stuck in the janitor's bucket. My arm jerked out and swept a row of sponges and brushed off another shelf. Strong, warm hands grabbed my arms and I was swept into a tight grip. "Who-what-?!" I spluttered, momentarily stunned.

 "What are you doing in the janitor's closet and why were you having what seemed to be an epileptic seizure when I came in?" 

I almost screamed and strained against Thomas's arms. 

"Lemme-let me-go-!"  

Thomas sighed.

 "Will you stop moving? I came in because you can't stand to not reply to my insults with a stinging retort. If you just admit defeat, there is definitely something wrong with you." 

He paused. 

"It's logic, okay? You wouldn't understand it."

 I felt myself start to bristle, but Thomas backtracked quickly. "

Sorry-It comes naturally now. I didn't mean it. I really didn't mean any of the insults. Okay, maybe some of them, but, like, 60% I didn't mean."

 I sighed. "Thomas, there are 171,467 words in the English language, and I can't string enough together to tell you much I want to hit you with a chair."

 Thomas laughed.

 "Okay, that's fair. Should we go out of the closet now?" 

I smiled. 

"What about...come out of the closet?"

 Thomas was quiet.

 "God damn, that was a smooth way of asking me out. Fuck yes."

lol but imagine this scenario where one of them isn't gay and they're like "wtf man I'm not—-wut—-I'm not gay man sorry"

i always thought that would be rlly funny in a situation like that where it seems rlly gay and wHoOpS he isn't gay