Hamilton One Shots and Imagines

James Madison- The Common Cold (a)

You walked up and pushed the door to the side, the sounds of coughing and wheezing escaped through the cracks. The candles holstered on the sides of the wall flickered and cast dancing shadows along the walls of the room. Madison lay sprawled out on the bed, his hand draped across his forehead holding a cold, wet flannel that was pressed against his head, his other arm lay flailed across his chest.

"Who... who is that?" He managed to gasp out with laboured and exhausted breaths.

"It's me James, I went to the store and brought everything you asked for." You placed two paper bags of things at the side of the bed and leant over him, taking the flannel from his hands and dabbing at his forehead.

"The tissues, the medicine, some blankets and a pamphlet from the undertakers down the road... you will be okay James, you have what I can accurately describe as a very minor cold."

He flailed his arms and writhed around the bed.

"James, you're just being dramatic again, remember when you thought you were dying the last time and it turned out to be tonsillitis?"

"It isn't just a minor cold Y/N..." he forced a cough and a splutter, "I'm dying, I'm sure of it this time, im coughing, my throat is in great pain and my head feels like it is about to explode."

"Right... so slightly worse than a minor cold." You took the flannel and exchanged it for one that sat on the side of the bedside table before taking the cap off the medicine and grabbing a spoon.

"Open up James, this will help."

"It won't help" he continued to wriggle around the bed, throwing his head from side to side.

"Nothing can help, nothing can stop the embrace of death."

You let out a deep sigh as you poured the viscous medicine onto the spoon.

"James, for the last time, you aren't going to die, now come on, open your damn mouth."

He slightly opened his mouth, allowing you to just stick the spoon in.

"I need you to promise me something Y/N." He forced open his eyes with what looked like great difficulty.

"Yes?"

"If I die... can you write to Thomas Jefferson for me?"

"Okay honey, ill write to Jefferson for you, what do you want me to say?"

"Can you tell him... I love him."

~*~

Written by Aaron.