Hamilton Oneshots

Lams: Stars

A/N: LAMS IS SO CUTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE so enjoy this historical fluffles -Angie

Once Tench Tilghman's breathes even out, I slither out from underneath the blankets, careful not to make any noise. Though even this is hard when my only thought is John, John, John, John, John, John, John. I take the lantern by my bedside and then proceed to trip over my own blankets, landing me directly on the floor.

Tench looks up sleepily but collapses back onto the bed as he realizes it is just me. "Go." He waves me off. "Go rendezvous with your boyfriend," he jokes.

If only you knew... I smirk as I stand back up and walk out the door. As soon as the tent flap is behind me, I sprint for our spot. The night air is crisp and awakens my limbs, tired from the day's work. The lantern swings by my side noisily but at the moment I don't care. Tents filled with sleeping soldiers are scattered across the field. Slowly, they become less frequent and our hill is in sight.

I run up the grassy slope and stop at the lone tree that stands up there, leaning down on my knees to catch my breath. A pair of hands covers my eyes.

"In the name of his majesty, I must take you, dirty rebel, captive," John says in an exaggerated British accent before I duck out of his grip, drop to the floor, and swipe his legs out from beneath him. He plops to the ground next to me with a huff.

"That wasn't necessary."

I smirk and fall back into the grass. "Maybe. Maybe not."

We fall silent for a moment before John also falls into the grass and turns to look at me. "Admit it, you fell for it."

"Did you think I wouldn't recognize those hands?" I grab his hand and fiddle with it, playing with his fingers.

"True, but any redcoat would have heard you clobbering up that hill from a mile away."

I throw his hand away from me. "I'm stealthy."

"Stealthy?" he questions, flopping on his side so he faces me.

"Stealthy," I confirm. I stare at the sky. Thousands of lights dot the sky like splattered paint. "What're you doing?"

"Hm?"

"You're staring at me. I can feel it."

"Am not." I flip my head to the side and find John's eyes boring into my soul. "I was counting your freckles," he says sheepishly with a poke to my cheek.

We fall silent for another beat til I ask. "How many?"

"How many what?" he mumbles. I glance at him, his eyes are closed.

"John! You can't fall asleep!" I push his shoulder hard.

"69. I counted 69 freckles until you moved," he says with a start. (Probably wasn't a thing back then but it's okay)

I snort. "You're so ridiculous."

He simply hums in response. I stare at the sky and search for the constellations. Comfortable silence wraps its way around us, happiness practically humming inside me. Here on this hill, I can't help but feel completely content. The night air is warm and safe beside John. The war and worries seem so far away, as if in another world.

"Think we'll be something great?" I ask, flopping on my side to face him.

"Better than great. Heros that are worshipped. Our stories told around campfires, passed from generation to generation. They'll be talking about us until we wipe ourselves out. Even then we'll be engraved into the abyss." He keeps his eyes closed as if imagining our glory.

"We'll put our names in the stars and for eternity they'll stay there," I add, watching the stories ingrained into the sky twinkle above me. "Even as we're dead, our stars will shine."

John nods with a smile. "We'll be mourned and idolized for our sacrifice, for the country we made."

"And we'll show them all." I find his hand in the grass and grab it. "Together."