Jamilton Oneshots // Hamilton ✔️

Shot [JAMILTON]

inaccurate historical au

~~~

Alex moved up, pointing his gun at a British soilder. Washing had told him to be extra careful, as he could not lose his best writer. He lifted his gun and shot, throwing himself behind a tree and waiting for his next opportunity. Sure enough, he got one.

Alexander lited his gun in the air, hoping this would be the last soilder he had to kill. He prayed for his friends and then shot.

And just as Alexander Hamilton shot another British soilder, a British soilder shot him.

~~~

a l e x

I wake up what feels like moments later, but it's dark and it has probably been hours. A figure in the dark gets up from his or her chair and walks to me. I can identify them now as George Washington, my general. Oh god, he's never going to let me fight again.

"Son, are you okay?" He asks, holding me down. I'm still panting, although I'm not sure why.

"Don't call me son," I somehow breathe out, "But I'm fine, thanks."

Washington just rolls his eyes and probably restrains from screaming and yelling at me, "You know I probably will not tolerate you to go back on that battlefield, right?"

"Unfortunately."

"Great. Someone else is here to see you." Washington walks off, opening the tent door and walking away. I listen to his footsteps glide away and I smile. Even when he's not leading troops, his steps are always so graceful and delicate. I'm jealous of him.

Before I can think anymore of that though, a second person is by my bed.

Thomas Jefferson.

"Thomas!" I yell, reaching out to hug him.

"Alex..." He says, hugging me, "I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay? Do you need help? Are you feeling okay?"

I giggle at his worry. He's really cute.

"No, silly. I don't matter. What's up with you? Shouldn't you be in France?"

He stays hugging me as he speaks, which I very much enjoy. I play with his curls, tangling my hand in them and then pulling it out.

"I had to come back for my favorite little idiot." He says, finally letting go of me. He sits on the side of the bed and I somehow muster up the strength to sit in his lap. Thomas blushes furiously, but doesn't stop me. We do this more than we should, I don't know why he was blushing.

"I'm your favorite?" I ask aloud.

"Of course." He says, pulling me into a kiss.

"Don't worry, I'll be okay." I say to him, getting back into the hospital bed.

"If you need me, please call me." He says, smiling nervously.

"Don't be so nervous. I will. Goodnight."

"I'm not. Ok. Goodnight." And at that last final word, he kisses my forehead and leaves the tent.

I fall asleep soon after.