Hamilton Oneshots (Discontinued)

Day-Off (Mullette)

This isn't one of the soulmate things, but I was just laying in bed and though 'hey, you know what would be cute?' so here it is. Cute.
Woooooooooo
Modern Au
Trigger Warning: None (whoa)

*Hercules PoV*

I check the date on the calendar and to my surprise, I see that I have a day off! It also comes to my attention that my adorable French baguette has the day off too. Perfect!
"Hey, Laf!" I call to him, hearing a faint groan from upstairs, he's not a morning person, and I also here a thud. Did he just...
"MERDE!"
Yep.
He fell out of bed.
I laugh to myself and put the kettle on, taking out two mugs and the coffee. For my coffee I put in one teaspoon of coffee, 1 sugar and a splash of milk; Like a normal person. For Laf, I put 2 and a 1/2 teaspoons of coffee, 3 sugars and no milk in a cup, I still wonder to this day how he drinks it.
"Bonjour mon amour, tu as bien dormi?" My boyfriend mumbles as he walks into the kitchen.
"Laf, I don't speak croissant, could you repeat that in a language I understand?" I chuckle, ruffling his curls. He looks confused at me for a moment, before saying:
"Salve, amica mea."
"Laf..."
"GOOD. MORNING. MY. LOVE!" He shouts suddenly, and I burst out laughing and bring him to my chest.
"You're amazing, Laf, good morning to you to." I say to him, he grumbles in response and hugs me back, burying his face in my chest.
"So, you'll be pleased to know that neither of us have work today." I tell him, and he looks up at me with a look that only a happy kitten could give. This man is going to be the death of me, and I couldn't care less.
"So, if you've sorted you languages out, let's plan what to do today." I tease, and he pulls away from me, grabbing his coffee and chugging it. How is he not dead?
"Oui, mon amour, je vais bien." He says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Again, I do not speak croissant, but I'll take that as a yes." I laugh, patting him on the head.
"Oh, mon chère, could you tie my hair please?" Laf asks, sliding a hair tie across the table. I pick it up and walk behind him, fixing his hair up. He struggles to do his hair sometimes, especially in the mornings, so I have perfected the 'Lafayette Bun'. A great achievement.
"Now," I say, sitting back down and sipping my coffee, "I was thinking we could go to the park, y'know, take some bread to feed the ducks, sit on a bench or something." I explain my idea to him and his eyes shine with excitement.
"Oui! I could make sandwiches, and I think we have some of those little sausages in the fridge, the ones we used for Alexander's birthday. WE COULD BRING SMOOTHIES!" He's so excited and I melt. As he's saying his ideas, he's rushing round the kitchen finding everything he needs. So much for grumpy morning Laf. I smile at him fondly as he nearly drops the butter in excitement.
"Hey, calm down, you're gonna stab someone!" I warn him, since he's now brandishing a butter knife.
"Go and get changed, mon amour, I can handle the food." He says, waving me off. I follow his orders and go and take a shower as well as changing and brushing my teeth. I remember that Laf has yet to change, so I find a nice pair of clothes for him to wear, placing them gently on the end of the bed.
From the kitchen, I hear my Laf sing along to the radio as he clatters around making lunch. How did I end up with such a perfect boyfriend? I smile again and head downstairs to watch my Laf prepare food.
I would help, but Lafayette prefers to do things like this independently, unless it's baking, in which we do it together. Those are my favourite moments.
I pull my phone out and snap a picture of him, his perfect face and eyes, his fluffy hair, everything about him is wonderful!
"Okay, I'm finished!" He says proudly, showing me his work. 4 sandwiches cut into triangles (Laf only eats triangular sandwiches because they 'bring out the flavour'), what looks to be 10 cocktail sausages wrapped up in a sandwich bag (do Americans have cocktail sausages?), and two bottles of some mysterious smoothie flavour that Laf has made.
"You've done amazingly, mo grá." I tell him, deciding that if he can catch me out with his weird French and Latin, I can at least use Irish on him.
"What do you expect? C'est moi." He brags, striking a pose.
"Yeah, yeah, now I've put clothes on the bed, go change." I tell him, he pretends to pout like a child, but grins at me and runs upstairs to change. I love him.

(TIME SKIP BECAUSE THIS CHAPTER IS GETTING LONG AND THEY HAVN'T LEFT THE HOUSE YET)

Laf and I walk slowly round the park, making our way to the duck pond where a few children are playing, their parents standing to the side watching. Laf squeezes my hand and looks at me, I know what he's thinking.
For a while now, Laf and I have thought about adopting, we've been together 3 years, and we want something more. I tell him that we will when we marry, but that doesn't stop him wanting one anyway.
"I know, eventually." I say, and he nods, a light in his eyes.
We reach the pond and sit at the water's edge, throwing bread to the ducks who make duck noises at us (I forgot what it's called - IT'S CALLED QUACKING!!), and Laf takes out the sandwiches and smoothies as well as the sausages.
We sit like that at the water's edge for hours just talking. The food long since gone, and the smoothies (turns out they were banana and strawberry) finished. Everything had been packed away and we laid down on the grass, hand in hand watching the sky turn from blue to starry black before we became tired and began the journey home.

Awwwwwww now that was cute.
I'm sorry but I love Mullette, it's pure.

-Bye.