Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

XLIX: Ten Minutes Alone

❝His voice was as intimate as the rustle of sheets.❞
—Dorothy Parker

Things changed. Very fast. And I know it wasn't an accident.

April 14, 2059.

The Red Vests have been getting increasingly tame ever since we American Advance Troops came to France. Each day, they were calmer and calmer. In fact, it was eerie how tame it was. Yesterday seemed to be almost serene. No fires. No vandalism. No attacks. And about half the usual number of protesters present.

It was odd, but I'm not complaining. Today, we expect even fewer Red Vests. Some people think that the Red Vests are intimidated by us Americans, so they intend to make us think that everything is fine and dandy. John reported this to Washington, and he said we have to stay.

Yeah, we're pissed. But if there's one good thing, it's that our superiors decided to only send half of us out into Paris for the afternoon and night. The other half will scout out the city tomorrow. But today, I'm in the half that stays at camp.

Pretty much all of us use this "break" as our chance to catch up on much-needed sleep. Including me. For the past few days, we've been getting four hours of sleep. Sleep schedule? It doesn't exist.

So for a good two hours after the other group left, the camp was silent as we all slept.

It was a hell of a nap. When we were awoken later that afternoon, I felt refreshed. We were gathered into the center of camp for orders... by John. John is with my half that stayed in camp. Lafayette and Davidson went out in Paris with all of the French soldiers. That leaves John here with all of his American soldiers. It's another clear indicator of our division from the French.

Anyway, John is still annoyed that we weren't allowed to come home after the downed action from the Red Vests. I can tell.

He parked a Caracal in the center of camp, and he sits on the hood of the vehicle as he addresses us.

"Y'all sleep well?"

No one responds. John doesn't wait for an answer.

"Some of y'all have a snorin' problem, but that ain't none of my business. Anyway, as you already know, the French fucks are out in the city makin' sure the fuckin' Red Vests don't fuck shit up. This doesn't mean it's time to have a jerk off party. We have a list of things that need to be done. Camp maintenance and shit."

There's a unifying groan amongst us soldiers. Seriously? Lafayette left us here to do chores, the fucking French fucktard! I'd rather get rocks chucked at me.

John lists the things that needed to be done. Work on the stationed Caracals, cleaning the barracks, taking inventory of the arsenal storage, cleansing guns, guard duty... Boring things that I don't want to do.

He doesn't assign certain jobs to certain soldiers, but instead, he tells us to go off and do what we need to do. He doesn't care if we do it or not. He just told us to do it because he has to.

And so we departed to do things. Everything was chaotic for a good few minutes as everyone tried to get the easiest jobs. A fight nearly broke out for absolutely no reason. It was amusing to watch from afar and I only involved myself when Alexander took control of the situation. I was impressed with Alexander's ability to rally a crowd and gain instant attention. Maybe his status as a celebrity helped a little, but everyone genuinely listens to him and his orders. He's quite a leader I suppose.

Being the great leader he is, he takes the role of assigning jobs to us. The newer recruits are left with unfavorable jobs while the older and more experienced recruits get better jobs. In a few minutes, everyone goes off to do what Alexander told them to do.