Hamilton One-Shots

Awkward Enough

I have Cotillion today and ugggggggggggggggggggggh it's every non-cis and non-hetero person's nightmare.

Like... I have to wear a dress and there's SO much division between the 'boys' and the 'girls' and the girls have to let the boys lead and have to let the boys go get them their drinks at intermission.

And I just am there like.. yo I'm a boy does anyone care.

So the voices in my brain were immediately like 'aye let's write a oneshot and try to ignore our impending demise.' Because logic.

John (birth name: Jocelyn, because why not) is trans and gay, and Alexander is gay but a little bi okay nvm he's totally gay for John and this is mega-awkward for the both of them.

"Alright Jocelyn, have fun, and remember, I'm picking you up and we're getting ice cream!" my mom calls as I throw my door open. Yeah. Like ice cream will make the horror of this place any better. I manage a weak laugh and the sort of fake smile that my mom wants, waving as she pulls away.

Okay. Square up John, this'll be hell but you can make it through.

I push the doors open and am immediately bombarded with noise. Noise, noise, noise, so much noise. Girls in all sorts of dr-- oh God John, now you're assuming gender. You're wearing a dress, and you're not a girl. So shut it. 

Ahem. People in all sorts of dresses and more people in suits are gathering, conspicuously on separate sides of the room. 'Boys' and 'girls.' Nice little packages of perfect straightness who have never so much as spoken harshly to their parents. In this room, we're the perfect Southerners we're expected to be. 

As I make my way over to the 'girls' line, A Winter's Ball, yeah, that one, the one from Miranda, is playing in my head. Despite the fact that it's October and still boiling hot outside. God, I fanboy too much.

Feedback begins squealing through the speakers and everyone's attention is drawn up to the stage. The same mildly chubby woman who oversees all these thing is grinning semi-demonically at us.

"Welcome to a new year of Jr. Cotillion!" she exclaims. (i forgot the big long name that they tell us it's actually called so whoops) "I'm glad to see all of you young ladies and gentlemen back to learn new dances and manners! We're going to have an excellent season! But before we begin with the Grand March, let me remind you of the expectations."

She drones on for approximately five minutes about dress code, introduces the dance instructor, mentions something about manners, and we're off.

The Luckiest, by Ben Folds, begins playing and I groan inwardly. This was a decent song before they had to go and ruin it. The Hunger Ga-- wait, I mean the Grand March, begins.

For those of you lucky enough to not know what the Grand March is, let me explain. So, you take one 'girl' from the 'girls' line and one 'boy' from the 'boys' line, they link arms, and walk down the middle of the room. Your partner from the Grand March is your dance partner, at least until you do one of the change-partner dances.

Okay, you got it, good. Let's go.

The line gets shorter and shorter, and I feel a minor panic attack coming on as I get closer to the front. I am not ready for this. I am not ready to be paired up with a boy who will see me as a girl and try to flirt and see nothing but my feminine figure and my dress. Damn it. 

Mr. Thorn, the dance instructor, violently gestures me forward and I realize I've reached the front of the line. Hastily, I scamper forward and link my arm in the waiting boy's, not even looking at his face until we've stopped at the other end of the room.