Hamilton / Lams Oneshots

New Classes (Lams) [Teacher AU]

The first warm breeze of the year.
It hit me like a semi truck when I tried stepping out of the school's main building, throwing the large door back into my face. I collided painfully with the dark wood, the intricate metal handle slamming into my stomach. I gasped and let out a groan, stumbling back before giving the door a good kick. "Fucking hell!", I hissed, immediately regretting my decision when I heard some 5th or 6th graders giggling behind me. With my luck, I'd have one of their parents standing in my office in no time. "Repeat that and you'll stay late for a week", I snapped at them. My threat was received with squeals of dispair and they ran before I could get in another word. Atleast that was taken care of.
I attempted again to leave the building, this time expecting the resistance and pushing through the door, making sure it didn't fall back into its lock too heavily. I had to pull my jacket tightly around me so it wouldn't puff up and push me over.

Once I arrived at the arts building of the Gymnasium, and pushed myself through the door inside with the same tactic I had used go get out of the main house, I let out a sigh of relief. I sat down on the stairs and held my stomach, which was giving off a steady, pounding flashes of pain.

"Is everything okay, Mr Laurens?", one of my students asked. I hadn't seen her coming down the stairs, in her arms was a box of supplies. She looked at me with concern, but I quickly waved it off. "I'm alright", I told her, and, seeing as she was a 12th grader and would perhaps find it appropriately amusing, "I was assaulted by that damn door." I didn't need to specify, everyone in the school long enough had been victimized by the gate-like entrance; roughly three meters high and almost as wide.

The student gave a sympathetic chuckle, and I waved her off to go to her classroom. The pain had normalized enough to where I could get up from the cold marble, and, realizing that I didn't know which classroom I had my class in now, I pulled out my schedule. It had only been two days since the beginning of the new year, and so there were always students and staff hurrying through the hallways, having gone to the wrong classroom or the wrong class.

Room 1.03... 1.03, 1.03... where was 1.03 again?
I didn't realize that I'd been mumbling the number to myself, until I heard a chuckle behind me. Jesus, was everyone gonna do that today? Did I have a sign on my back saying 'kick me' or some nonsense?

I swirled around to see who had surprised me this time, and came face to face with a man who I couldn't guess was 25 or 38. There were playful freckles splattered all over his face and his eyes twinkled like those of a child, but he had delicate lines around his eyes and in the corners of his lips.

"I'm so sorry", I chuckled politely, "I didn't notice you." Why I was apologizing I wasn't sure about, and the man seemed to have a similar thought. "There is no need for that", he said, and I noticed his voice was a little rough. A smoker, perhaps. "I gather you're looking for your classroom, as well? My name is Alexander Hamilton, I'm new on staff."

I reached out my hand to shake his. "John Laurens. I'm not new, just new to the numbering system. They re-did the whole thing over the winter, switched out all the little plates on the doors."

He shook my hand firmly, so firmly that for a second I thought he wouldn't let go anymore. "I teach political science and creative writing", Hamilton said, and I nodded. We walked along the row of doors, eventually figuring out the way they were labelled and making our way to our respective classrooms.

He was right across the hall, and with the open doors, I could see him setting down his bag on his desk. It was a youthful style, a bag made of fabric that had all kinds of stitching on it, self-made, I assumed. I couldn't read what it was, of course, but it seemed to be quite a few slogans and symbols, perhaps political. The school's rules had always been loose with that.

My leather bookbag looked almost snobby in comparison, if it wasn't for the scratches and discolorations, occasional marks where I'd tried to get off paint splatter, and a few parts in a different color leather that had been replaced over the years.

In the next few minutes, the hallway filled with students and my attention was torn away from the redhead as I showed my students to their assigned seats. It was a new roster, and so it took a little longer to find the names on my list and try to remember their faces. Finally, I had all 23 of them in their seats. When I turned to write my name on the board, I caught a glimpse of the classroom across the hall. Mr Hamilton was in the motion of doing the exact same thing, and I nearly dropped my chalk when we locked eyes. I must've looked like a stalker, or a gossip, but then again he had been looking just the same. I shook my head and finished my task.

"It's the first day back, so today we will go over your materials and what you can expect from my class. First of all..."

Fade-out like at the end of a movie, because my writer's block is fucking killing me.