Jamilton Oneshots

Hospital Time Bitch 2

"So you gave me a minor concussion and a fractured eye socket?" Alex said, giving Thomas a serious side-eye.

"Accident. You fell." Thomas said with a grin, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Twice. On your desk." Alex grumbled, patting the thick strip of gauze hiding half his face.

"Wait, where are we going?" He asked, looking around.

"My house."

"What? No! Take me back to my house!" Alex cried, whipping his head around. He groaned in pain.

"You never told me where your house is and we're already here." Thomas said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, you and your stupid smart-assery!" Alex complained, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Not smart-assery, hun, it's facts." Thomas slammed the car door, fumbling in his pocket for keys as he walked up to the front door. Alex trailed behind him, his eyebrows knit.

"Dinner?" Thomas asked, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. 

"Trying to lose weight." Alex answered, sitting down at the couch. "You have a console?" He asked, examining the TV.

"Yeah." Thomas said, taking out a frozen chicken pot pie. He popped it into the microwave.

Alex turned it on, taking the controller. He selected a game and started to play.

"Yeah, go ahead and use it!" Thomas yelled from the kitchen, scrolling Instagram. Alex's instagram. He was checking if he was available to make a move on, truth be told. Thomas had discovered that checking out someone's social media really helped in getting things going. 

You find out what subjects to avoid, what subjects to talk about, the relationship they have with other people, their interests, and whether or not they're batshit crazy. Alex wasn't, posting a picture of him with his friends, another with a picture of his bored face in what Thomas assumed to be a cabinet meeting. The caption was, jefferson called me a bastard again lol.

Okay. Maybe apologize for that. He was learning. 

Thomas shut off his phone and sat down beside Alex.

"Playing Apex?" He asked, watching his character move around the screen. Alex didn't break focus, staring intently. 

The microwave beeped. His pie was done.

Thomas sat down, ate dinner, and watched Alex absolutely murder other squads. He was surprisingly good.

A couple hours later, Alex finally yawned and set the controller down.

"'M tired." He mumbled, standing up.

Thomas blinked, realizing he had nowhere for Alex to sleep.

Although his bed was a queen.

"Uh, just, um...Take a shirt of mine or something?" He said awkwardly, escorting Alex to his room.

"Mmm." Is all Alex said. He sleepily grabbed a shirt and went into the bathroom. Thomas stared after him, praying the events of that night wouldn't be too weird. But at the same time, hey. Sharing a bed with Alexander Hamilton. 

******

Thomas crawled into bed after Alex, keeping his arms to his side. He risked a glance over to the man beside him. He was now sleeping peacefully, snoring a little. Carefully, very, very carefully, Thomas slid his arm over Alex. He could barely keep a smile from his face as Alex instinctively moved closer to him, into his arms.

Thomas had never felt happier, to be honest. He closed his eyes, held Alex tight, and went to sleep.

this is short as hell but I'm not very good at mushy stuff rip