Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

LXIV: Five People Made a Trade

❝Benefit your friends; make sure your enemies suffer from being your enemies.❞
—Louie Gohmert

Alexander once joked that there's no one pettier than a politician. At least, I thought that was a joke at first.

I was quite pissed, to say the least. I had been enjoying my time at home, working on my garden, lounging in the pool, calling John several times a day. Occasionally, Alexander and I would drop into Albany to do a photo shoot, or in New York City to oversee Chase Felder do minor-key renditions of American classics such as "America the Beautiful" as part of our movie's soundtrack.

Filming in Sweden is nearly complete, which means James and Eliza will be returning to the country soon. I've been trying to avoid controversy for a while: I'm bound to get in it when James is back.

And yet, here I am, about to re-enter the utter shit-storm that is politics.

Do you know what's really petty? Having a party just because your enemy is having a party, and you don't want them to feel special. That's exactly what happened.

The Democrats and Republicans are hosting separate parties (coincidentally, one day apart from the other), and neither faction will admit to copying the other's party. It doesn't matter anyway.

The point is, the political parties are having political parties. Make sense?

It's been a little over a month since Congress adjourned, and they're going to go back to work starting after the weekend. Before that, the two parties are hosting small, intimate gatherings with relevant and powerful Congressmen and Senators from their own faction to discuss their future plans of legislation and remind themselves that they must remain united to defeat the opposing party.

Essentially, it's a "we're awesome, fuck the other party" type of party.

And Alexander wants us to get involved.

We had a very long meeting about it with Reynolds.

"I am not going to go to either of those parties!" I cried out.

"Yes, you are," Alexander hissed. "It's a perfect chance to further establish our friendships with the biggest politicians, (Y/N)."

"I don't care about them! I care about my flowers in the garden!"

"We'll be gone for only two days."

"That's a lot of fucking days."

"No, it's not."

"It is when we have to endure the bullshit of these stupid-as-hell politicians."

Alexander rolled his eyes and looked at Reynolds. "You can contact the hosts of the parties, right?"

"Sure thing, team," Reynolds nodded proudly. "I can contact anyone. I'll ask them if you can join in on the party. I'm sure they'll welcome you in."

"Don't bother," I growled. "I'm not going!"

"Yes, you are," Alexander barked.

"You can't make me!"

"Watch me."

Alexander somehow made me go. Stupid idiot. Makes me wonder why I treasure him.

September 12, 2059.

Here we are at the Schuyler estate. It's as massive as you'd imagine. Peggy, Eliza, and Angelica (the latter of whom I have yet to make conversation with) grew up here. God, wish I had such a lavish life. But tonight, this is not a childhood memory march. It's the location of the Democratic Party's party.