More Hamilton drabbles

Guardians (lams)

Everybody in the world has a roles: You're either a protector or the protected.

Thomas Jefferson was a guardian, and a pretty good one too. When he transferred to Liberty Middle School, he didn't really know what made him feel so important when he was around his new best friend, James Madison. But now he's a lot smarter than eighth grade year. He knows very well that his job in life is to be James Madison's guardian for all eternity.

When you find your guardian, there's no direct sign telling you it's them, you just have a feeling in your gut or your heart and suddenly you just know exactly what's going on between you and this complete stranger.

George Washington never thought he would be the one protected. But one day in class, this one student in the back seemed to stand out. In all honesty, George had never felt more safe in class then when he could hear Lafayette giggling with his friends. Now whenever the class got too rowdy, Lafayette made sure to get everybody to shut up for a minute.

The common misunderstanding with guardians was that it was a sign of love and affection, but it's not. It almost never is. Guardians and Protectees can be siblings, strangers, co-workers, and, yes, occasionally lovers.

So where does our story begin?

John Laurens, a boy moving from South Carolina to New York City and being thrusted into a fancy high school he's never even been to before. All of this craziness just because his father managed to win the lottery. So instead of being sensible with the money, he's shoving his way to the top of the food chain (which I suppose is sensible in some weird sense).

"Straighten your posture," His father snapped, "And wipe that look off your face. Nobody likes a depressed high schooler, it's cliche." John straightened his posture as his dad fixed his tie and wiped some dirt of John's face. "We are rich now, we do not let ourselves go out with dirt on our face, Johnathan."

John muttered, "You never cared about our appearance before you won the lotto."

"Lottery. Not lotto. You need to be a little more sophisticated, Johnathan." His father huffed before handing John his backpack. John's father never called him Johnathan before they won the lottery. With a sigh, John took his backpack and walked to the door to go catch the bus. Right when he was out of his father's sight, John loosened his tie, took his hair out of it's bun, and switched his black dress shoes for muddy boots.

"He can make me wear the school uniform, but I am not wearing dress shoes." John muttered. You can't take the southern out of a southerner, even if you thrust them into New York City.

Meanwhile, Alexander Hamilton was still in bed sleeping when his father, George Washington, came in to make sure he was ready to go. "ALEX!" George huffed, pulling the covers off of Alexander and nudging him. "You're going to be late to school again! Come on, up!"

Alex groaned, "Let me sleep!"

"Do you know what time it is?"

"6:30?" Alex guessed, lifting his head a little. Washington showed him the alarm clock, which was flashing 7:46 on the front. Hamilton shot out of bed, not even caring that he was only in pajama pants and a loose tank top.

Washington sighed, "Please get dressed quickly. I'll drive you still, but get ready! Don't dilly dally!" He walked out of the room and down stairs

"You're the only person I know that says dilly dally, man!" Alex called, getting his school uniform on. He struggled to get his sneakers on while brushing his hair, and ended up falling down the stairs on the way to the kitchen. He scrambled to the fridge and began making his usual cup of iced coffee. Washington was shoving graded papers into folders and then into his briefcase.

George asked, "Do you have your lunch? Your PE uniform? Your backpack? Your laptop?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes." Alex said, nodding every time he repeated the word. He quickly grabbed some toast and swung the fridge door open to grab the butter and his lunch.

"What do you have this week in your classes?" Washington asked, grabbing the chocolate milk out of the fridge and pouring himself a glass. Alex shrugged. "Have you been using the planner I bought you?"

"No, George, I haven't." Alex snapped, "But I will when I get around to it."

Washington rolled his eyes. "You know you could call me dad, or pops, or father, or whatever you kids call your parents these days. Besides pain in the ass." Alex munched on his toast and quickly rushed to the door. Washington followed, stopping to look in the mirror and fix his tie.

"Alexander, you did finish your essay for my class, correct?" Washington raised a brow. Alex shrugged again, too focused on remembering if he put socks on before his shoes. George asked again, "Alex, the essay? It's worth a lot of your grade for my class!"

"Yes!" Alex huffed, "I-I got it done, okay?" Washington sighed and didn't say another word. They got in the car and drove to the school.

John Laurens immediately realized that buses in New York City were very different from buses in South Carolina. For example, John got shoved to the ground almost twice, and had to wrestle his way to a good seat by the window. He made a mental note to see if the subway was any better of an option. But judging by how the people stared at him here, he was sure it would be just as annoying as the bus.

"That's my seat."

John's head perked up and he quickly took his earbuds out. "Sorry, repeat that?" John asked, shoving the wad of wires into his back pocket.

The blonde blue eyed pretentious yahoo snapped, "You're in my seat. I sit there every single day on this bus." John's eyes narrowed.

"Sorry, uh, didn't realize your name was on the seat." John looked at the seat and then gasped, "Oh, wait! It ain't on there is it!" He looked back at the boy and realized he had the same school uniform on, but red. John's was blue. He figured the other boy noticed this as well because he seemed to get a sickly sweet smile on his face.

"You're going to Liberty High?" The boy tutted with his British accent. Is New York going to get any more pretentious?

John snapped, "Just go sit somewhere else, yeah? There's some room over there in the back."

The boy got uncomfortably close to John and growled, "Let's get one thing straight. George King III. Learn it, remember it, and don't get in my way at school, peasant." He marched off to a different seat. John stared at him, dumbfounded by what just happened. Sure, kids could be mean at school but not like that.

At least we don't walk around like we're queen and own the damn place, John thought to himself, Or have fake British accents. The bus stopped and John quickly got off, rushing to the school building. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he felt like he was late.

George King III, from before, made sure to walk past Laurens and shove him to the ground as he did so. A couple kids nearby snickered as Laurens quickly got up and brushed off his school pants. So now his face was dirty, his clothes were dirty, and he was just a dirty looking southern kid all together. Wow, winning the lotto really doesn't change me at all. He wasn't sure if he was happy about that or not.

As Alexander was getting out of the car he saw George King shove a new kid to the ground. If there was one person in school Hamilton would murder with no hesitation, it would be a tie between James Reynolds and George King. He quickly ran over and shouted, "Go back to the hole you crawled out of, George!" He looked at the kid, who was staring at Alex awkwardly.

Why are you different? They both wondered, staring at each other like there was nothing else in the world.