SO TNT IS HAVING A SUPERNATURAL MARATHON AND EP.22 SEASON 5 IS ON AND I REALIZED SOMETHING. THEY DIDN’T FORGET ADAM IN HELL, AFTER CASTIEL BURNED MICHEAL ADAM DIED BECAUSE THE VESSEL WAS BURNT! MICHEAL CAME BACK BECAUSE YOU CANT KILL AN ANGEL WITH HOLY OIL AND FIRE BUT HE RECONSTRUCTED THE VESSEL.
Request/Summary: Alexander is sick and won’t go to bed and FLUFF (I have sucky summary skills. Deal with it.)
Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x Reader
Warnings: None… probably…?
A/N- This is probably the shortest thing I’ve ever written. Whatever. Also I couldn’t find a hammy gif that matched the fic so I just picked this one. Burr doesn’t even like exist in this fic.
“Alexander, are you alright?” You asked, noticing your husband hunched over his desk, sweaty and pale.
“I’m fine.” He waved you off.
“Perhaps you should get a good night’s rest.” You proposed, stroking his hair.
“I need to finish this.” He replied, still not looking at you.
“Alex, you’re burning up.” You said, touching his face. He pushed your hand away gently.
“It’ll be gone by morning. You go to bed, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He squeezed your hand and you left for bed with a sigh. You crawled into bed, familiar with the cold emptiness that welcomed you from the other side.
You woke again much later in the night, the bed still empty. You got up and left the room.
“Alex?” You asked, yawning. You turned the corner to find him asleep at his desk. You brought a blanket over from the living room and wrapped it around his shoulders, shaking him awake.
“I gotta finish.” He mumbled, sitting up.
“Alex honey, I think you should go to bed.” You encouraged tiredly. “You can finish up in the morning,”
“I- Okay.” He said, finally giving in. He stood and you walked him to bed where he promptly fell asleep.
When you awoke, the other side of the bed was empty yet again. You got up and found his desk empty as well. After searching for a few minutes you found Alexander sitting criss-cross on the kitchen floor with a bucket in his lap.
“I’m sick.” He groaned.
“You think?” You giggled in response. He nodded. “Do you want me to go get the doctor?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I gotta go to work.” He stood up, wobbling. You balanced him with a hand on his chest.
“Go back to bed and I’ll go tell president Washington you can’t make it to work today.” You ordered.
“But-” He began.
“No buts.” You interrupted. “Back to bed.”
“Mrs. Hamilton. Good morning, what brings you here today?” George asked, opening the door.
“Mr. President, I’m afraid I’ve come to inform you that my husband can not be arriving at work today, he’s contracted a virus.” You informed. You could see that the former general was disappointed at the absence of his right hand man but he nodded politely.
“Of course. Thank you Mrs. Hamilton for informing me of this. I hope Alexander feels better soon.” He said.
“I’ll pass on your regards.” You added before leaving his doorstep.
You came home to find Alex in bed reading, his spectacles resting on his nose.
“Any improvements?” You asked.
“I stopped throwing up.” He answered.
“That’s good news.” You joined him on the bed.
“I suppose so.”
“The president sends his regards.” You peppered his face with quick soft kisses.
“Don’t get yourself sick.” He replied with a sheepish smile, kissing your cheek.
We could’ve been great together, like the kind of relationship that makes you so happy others are noticeably jealous. We could’ve been great. But our timing was way off. And now we only “could’ve” been something.