I Slapped Your Ass in Greeting
John Laurens x Reader, ft. Alexander Hamilton
Author: Lil Lambie
Warnings: Mild swearing, social anxiety, butt slapping mentions of alcohol, and violence
Request: (Anon) :I thought you were my friend so I slapped your ass in greeting AU please!
A/N: At first I didn’t think I’d be able to do this one, but I totally fell in love with it and it all game together. I love this one so much. As for the anon, that brought up our faults in our schedules, I’m really sorry. We are really going to try and stick to the schedule this week, unlike last week which was awful. Enjoy!
“Excuse me, excuse me.” you whispered as you tried to navigate the crowd. Your friends had abandoned you and you were left in a terrifying crowd of punks. You were sure that they were all nice once you got to know them, but they were intimidating from the outside, and you could barely speak because you were choked up with fear.
You shifted with the long line to the concert. You popped in your earbuds and tried to calm down and listen to some music. You texted your friends, begging for them to come back or at least take you home.
They were your ride, and as of now, you would have to find a way home. You frowned when you glanced down at your battery. It was already below 50%. You envisioned yourself in the worst possible scenario, getting thrown into the mosh pit, suffocating from beer, smoke, body heat, and of course social anxiety.
At the thought of this, you turned up the music a little louder, trying to drown out your thoughts. It was getting dark and the concert was about to begin. You had no idea what you were going to do. You considered hiding and crying in a restroom for majority of the concert and hope your phone had enough battery to call someone to pick you up.
“Hey, sexy!” you felt a swift slap across your butt.
Your face instantly turned red. Every part of your body turned red hot. Anxiety coursing through your veins. Your heart pounded in your chest. Your stomach dropped.
“Ohmygod!” you turned around to see a man, completely red staring at his hand and back at you. “Ohmygod. I am so sorry. I thought you were-I-I.”
You stared at disbelief at the man. He was short and had curly dark hair, that poofed under his red baseball cap. The cap was torn and frayed on the edges with a bit of sweat around the bill. His freckles were like stars compared to his red tomato face.
“I am so so so so sorry! I thought you were my friend and I-”
“Your girlfriend?” you blurted out.
“What? No. My boy-I mean my best friend. Alex. Alexander Hamilton? He’s about yeah high,” he waved the air just below his neck, “full of angst, anger, long dark hair but smooth. Kinda like mine but straight.”
“What? Excuse me?”
You blushed. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” you looked down and tried to avoid his eyes.
“What’s so funny?” he asked in a joking tone.
“Nothing, it’s just… you started out saying boyfriend, then you said he was straight and you said you have curly hair-which I mean you do, it’s beautiful-but then it was like the implied joke that you know you aren’t straight and ohmygod I’ll shut up. I’m sorry.” you were rambling and your words jumbled into one, long, run on sentence.
You expected him to yell or defend himself.
He replied with a grin and laughed. He extended his hand. “I’m John. John Laurens. You can call me, J, J La, Laurens, Johnny, Jonathan, frankly you can call me whatever you like.” he chuckled. You took his hand and shook it tentatively.
“I think I’ll just stick with John…J La.” you laughed.
He smirked. “So forgive me, let’s forget about my friend for one moment. But, you seem like a fish out of water here.”
You laughed and nodded. You and John walking to keep up with the moving line. “Yeah, I came with some friends but they ditched me. Also, they were my ride. So, I’m kind of just stuck here. This night has been pretty awful so far.”
“Well, that’s nothing a few beers, dancing, and good music can’t fix.” he smiled.
“Shouldn’t you find your friend, Alex, or something?”
“Nah, he’s fine. Probably lecturing some poor old punk about classic rock and such. He actually kind of likes heavy metal, but I dragged him here with me.” John pointed to his shirt, pointing at the Aerosmith logo. “I love classic rock. But yeah, he’s probably fine. You wouldn’t mind sticking with me would you? I just..I just don’t want you to get lost or overwhelmed because your friends were such assholes-oh,” John blushed, “sorry, that wasn’t my place.”
You shake your head. “You weren’t wrong.” you sighed. “But, I guess I’ll have to take you up on that offer, considering that I well have no one else except me, myself and I.”
John smirked back at you. “You wouldn’t mind if I held your hand then?” he blushed. “Ya, know…so that we don’t get separated or anything…”
“No, not at all.” you threw your hand into his. A warm feeling washed over your body. It wasn’t anxiety anymore. You couldn’t explain it.
You and John continued to talk, he talked a lot of about Alex, and then asked about you. You let him pull you a few rows behind the mosh pit. You started to scream at each other, because the band was doing soundchecks and the crowd was chanting and cheering.
“So, you work at a pizzeria?” you asked.
“Yeah, I actually own it. Just on a college campus not far from here. Originally, I was just an apprentice at the old place, but the old man moved and gave it to me. She’s my little baby. Kind of like Alex.” he laughed. “I swear we aren’t a thing. He’s just my odd wing-man/best friend.”
“Suuuure.” you laughed.
“New York City!!!” one of the frontman singers screamed into the microphone. His hair was long overgrown and thinning fast with old age. He must have been touring for at least half a decade now and was closer to a hundred. The man who was a classic rock legend of his era, was almost a century. But he still had the sound pipes of an angsty thirty year old.
You and John quickly got pushed into the mosh pit.
“John!” you screamed as you lost his hand in yours.
You found yourself in the middle of screaming, sweating, violent, and drunk psycho fans. One elbowed you in the face telling you to ‘shove it’ along with many non-family friendly words. You winced at the throbbing in your nose. You were slowly pushed into the depths of the pit, around everyone’s stomping feet. Someone stepped on your hand.
“John!” you screamed.
You heard a distant shout at the bottom of the feet. Every time you tried to stand up, you got pushed under like trying to resurface the ocean with a wave crashing over your head. Except, instead of white rimmed waves, cigarette ashes and beer fell over your head.
The next moment was filmed with absolute sailor profanity. A fight broke out around you. More so than before. And in the middle of it was a short, freckled-faced, curly haired man. You watched, with tears running down your face, blood running from your nose, as John took a broad looking guy, covered in tattoos.
John hit him with an uppercut punch, and finalized it with a punch to the gut. Anyone who stepped in his pathway ended up with a broken nose and intense bruises. You watched the anguish on his face, sweat dripping down his temples, cap being pushed around. When everything was too loud and panicking to bear, your vision went black.
Strong arms hooked themselves beneath your arms, secured you and pulled you back. The arms dropped from yours, to under your back and legs.
When you could see again, the lights and blaring of the concert was a haze.
“You’re okay!” John cried.
Another man, equally short squatted over you. His hair was dark and slicked into a messy bun, with a scrappy beard.
“Here, take this.” the nameless man said, placing a cold ice pack to your face. John ran to grab a paper towel and helped stop the nosebleed.
“John.” you cried softly, shaking your head. Your tears turned to laughter. “You are dead. You are going to get your ass kicked. You messed with some pretty scary dudes.” you laughed.
The nameless man grinned and slugged John in the arm. He said, “I’m Alex, by the way.”
You and John burst out laughing. You reached for his hand, struggling to calm the tremors in your body. He reached back for yours and met your eyes with a soft smile. He had a few scratches and bruises on his face. A single tear fell. He wrapped an arm around you and held you tight.
“I’m so glad that you are okay.” he cried. He shook his head and sniffed.
“Awww, you’re like a little baby, with snot running down your face.” Alex laughed at John.
John laughed and tried to ignore him. “You know, if you aren’t too traumatized, we could go back to the concert-” he paused when he saw the look of discomfort in your eyes, “-or I was thinking more sensibly, we could go eat an old diner or grab a drink and dance there with no possible chance of a Lion King stampede.” he joked, in a light manner.
Alex shook his head at him. “Too soon man.”
“It’s fine.” you laughed.
“No! I’m taking about Mufasa! It’ll never be okay! He tried to save his son, and he died!” Alex sobbed.
You cocked your head at John, a sly smile on your face. “Is he okay? Is he joking?”
John shrugged. “No one knows.”
John stood up and helped you up. He pulled you into him, an arm around you, the other hand in yours. “Shall we go get a drink then?” he smiled.
“Yeah! Five tequila shots, on John!” Alex snatched the car keys from John’s pocket and started running towards the parking lot.
“I was thinking more like just the two of us.” John laughed.
Alex stopped and looked at John, awful concerned. “Don’t you think that’s quite rude?” he gestured to you.
“I meant (Y/N) and I.” John frowned.
“Well, you need a third wheel for stability right? Buy me five shots and I’ll hang out by the jukebox. You guys won’t even notice me.”
John laughed and looked to you. You shrugged. “I call shotgun!” John shouted. He let go of you and make a quick jump forward.
“No!” Alex screamed. “I don’t want to drive!” Alex booked it to the parking lot.
“Why’d you do that?” you asked. John hadn’t took off running.
“So that I could do this.”
John yanked you forward and kissed you. He had a sharp intense grip on you and kissed you fiercely. Until he softened and melted into the kiss. His grasp softened to nothing and his hand slipped to your hair. To your chin. He brushed his hands down slowly and gently. John’s lips hurt a little bit against yours because of the bruises, but you kissed him back.
“Guys!” Alex came running back, out of breath. “What is taking you so long-oh, GROUP HUG!”
Before you and John could break apart, Alex threw his arms around the both of you.
“Why does he do this?” you laughed, uncomfortably, pressed up against John.
“To ruin the moment.” John laughed. “But, that’s nothing a swift punch can’t fix.” John broke from you, just a moment, to clock Alex in the shoulder, enough to stagger him but not to hurt him. John grabbed you and again and kissed you.
“I like this.” you said in between a kiss.
“I like this too.” John smiled. “I like you more.”
Time slipped by in John’s arms. Your head throbbed with an enormous headache, but it turned to a dull ache when you kissed John. You both ignored Alex’s protests as you kissed more intensely than before. The kiss was filled you with everything and simultaneously nothing.
Because, nothing seemed to matter in John’s arms.