Summary: Alexander Hamilton spent the last decade of his life perfecting Miranda, a musical surrounding the life of Lin-Manuel Miranda, that will be hitting Broadway in just a week. Everything is perfect; or so Alexander thinks. One actor is proving to be a bit of a handful and Alexander can’t figure out how to deal with him.
Warnings: Mentions of blood
Word Count: 2677
Dedication: All of you for waiting patiently!
Tags:@trash-sicle, @evil-weasel, @jamiiton, @moodboardaesthetico, @ass-gardiann, @ahyesfandoms, @daviggs, @just-me-an-asshole, @artisticat98, @fruityfrootloops, @neon-ryan, @gum-and-chips, @theluckyjinx2170
A/N: Thanks for being patient with my hiatus! A regular update schedule should resume again.
Two men sat in a box. They kept looking at the other, expecting them to make the first move, to try to get them out of there, to say something. But the other always thought the same of the first. Nothing changed, and the men sat there, for days on end, until finally the box was opened and they were released.
“Why didn’t you ever try to escape?” the rescuer asked, looking at them. “The box wasn’t taped down. One of you just had to move and push it open.
The men exchanged their usual glance. “I thought it would make the other uncomfortable if I moved,” they replied.
“It’s Georgie’s fault for being a bass hole.”
Alexander nearly dropped the tissue as he tried to bite back his laughter. He failed, of course, and his howls echoed in the tiny dressing room. Philip only stared at him, confused, as he held the tissue against his bloody nose.