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Note: here it goes. the first hamilton fic i have ever written is officially published! sorry if it’s kind of oawignwoaoeg
Prompt: 5. “What did you say?” 23.“W- What are you doing?”
Word Count: 2,451+
Pairing: Lafayette x Reader
Warning: Language, Unedited
AU: Hamiltime
The moment John Laurens introduced you to the rest of his friends, you knew you were a goner.
John Laurens had been your friend since early adolescence, having met him by accident on the street. Your first meeting was entirely by chance, and you could still remember it as though it had happened yesterday. Arms full of groceries for your mother, and dress nearly unmanageable, you could barely see, much less walk, and that’s when John approached you, offering to carry some of the many items in your arms. It was at that moment that you both realized that wouldn’t be your last meeting.
You became fast friends, and as time progressed, you met many of his friends. In fact, you had known many of his friends nearly as long as he had.
It was a late October evening when you had been initially introduced to John’s group of friends. Nearly all of them were half drunk and hilarious, serving as your form of entertainment for that night. Of all of them though, Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette caught your attention the most.
You found yourself entranced by his handsome features, his beautiful accent, and his determination to bring freedom to America, and freedom to France, and each time you saw him, you found yourself feeling excited and overwhelmed.
At least once a week, the boys - John, Alexander, Hercules, and Gilbert - would invite you for drinks or some other form of what they considered fun, and would clarify, strongly, that no one would get the wrong impression. Though you were a woman and were constantly accompanied by a group of men, they assured you that the public eye would cause no scandal. Alexander would tear anyone apart verbally if they so much as suggested anything degrading about you.
In the few years that you had known the four men, you found that you had grown so incredibly close to each of them, finding yourself unable to imagine your life without them in it. But, of all of them, you knew that it was Lafayette you were the closest to.
On the nights you weren’t feeling quite up to the task of getting completely hammered, he would stay sober with you, just talking and laughing at the other members of your tight-knit group make easily regrettable decisions. On the days that you clearly didn’t seem up to par, he would question you about it until you told him what was on your mind, and he would proceed to provide many an uplifting word. He probably knew more of your deepest secrets than even John, and you felt that you could go to him with anything.
Well, nearly anything.
Although you knew you could trust Lafayette with anything, you didn’t feel it appropriate to admit your feelings to him. Whether it was because you were embarrassed, or because you didn’t want to lose the close bond of friendship you both held, you didn’t know, but you could never bring yourself to tell your French friend that you wished to be more than just his friend.
As of late though, you began to think of him more often than not. You had actually started to become so spacey and distant that it leaked into the time you spent with your friends, and they had started to notice.
“Y/N? You have to open your door! I’m taking the boys out for drinks, and you’re coming,” John Laurens pleaded from outside. You knew he was on your doorstep, you could tell from the distance of his voice, but you felt so comfortable in your sitting room. The fire blazing, a book in your lap. Outside it was cold. Outside you had to deal with your feelings.
You sighed, closing your book. “I’d rather not today,” you shouted back in the direction of the door, refusing to stand.
The front door opened. It seemed you wouldn’t have a choice on what you did today. “Oh, come on. You’re just sitting here, it’s not like you’re sick or busy.” Your friend approached you, looking down at your sitting form in amusement. “And I wasn’t asking, Y/N.”
Stretching out, you turned to look up at John, a small frown on your face. “But, I don’t–.”
“Ah, that’s too bad,” the dark haired boy interrupted, taking your hand to pull you up into standing position. “Anyways, Lafayette is coming with.”
Surprised at his unnecessary mention of your mutual French friend, you felt your face begin to grow warm. “That isn’t surprising,” you said, almost too quickly. “And I don’t see why it’s necessary to tell me this.”
John was already leading you toward the door, the amused expression he had worn earlier still present in his features as you both stepped outside into the crisp, late autumn air. “Don’t act coy, Y/N, we all know you’re in love with our ‘lil’ baguette.”
“Shut your mouth, John Laurens!” you replied, trying to remain unflustered, though your attempts seemed futile.
“You didn’t deny it! That’s practically admitting your feelings, Y/N Y/L/N,” he used your full name jokingly, mocking your small outburst.
You scowled, now in front of him, pulling him in the direction of the tavern you frequented. “Let’s just hurry up and get there. I’m sure everyone’s waiting.”
______________________________________________________________
By the time you and John arrived, Alex and Hercules had already had a few drinks, seeming to be a little tipsy. You were immediately aware of the factor the scene was lacking. “I thought you said Lafayette would be here,” you turned to John accusingly.
“He’s supposed to be,” was the only response you received before the other two members of your party took notice of the both of you.
“Y/N! Johnny-Boy!” Hercules slurred, stepping forward unsteadily in greeting. “You guys are finally here.”
Alexander glanced up from his drink, and his face lit up immediately. “John, my love!” He stumbled upward from his seat, instantly engulfing John in a heavy hug.
“I’m assuming that I’m chopped liver then, Alex?” You joked, holding back laughter at the display.
The drunken man threw his head up from John’s shoulder, eyes landing on you for only a few seconds. “Y/N, my entirely platonic love!”
You rolled your eyes, a small laugh falling from your lips. “I suppose that’s a sufficient greeting.” In the wildness of Alexander’s greeting, you had barely noticed Hercules slip away to order another drink, eyes finding him at the bartop, talking to an unaccompanied and beautiful lady.
While John and Alexander made their way back to a table, you found yourself begin to grow almost melancholic. Why wasn’t Lafayette here? What was holding him up? Where…? Your eyes landed at a booth in the middle of the tavern. There. Within seconds, your reasonably cheery disposition crumbled into a reserved one. You found yourself slipping into a seat at the bar, ordering a drink.
Lafayette was here after all, but he wasn’t anywhere near the group. Instead, he was chatting up a woman, completely unaware that you had even entered.
Unbeknownst to you, your friend was attempting to escape a conversation. The woman he was talking to attempting to keep him there. Of course, he had approached her on his own will, but as the conversation went on, he realized more and more that he only wished to talk to you.
Just as soon as your drink was placed in front of you, the seat beside you was occupied and a familiar scent overwhelmed you. “Salut, beauté,” Lafayette greeted, flashing a warm smile at you. Instantly, he picked up on your sour mood, worry clouding his features.
“Gilbert,” you acknowledged him aloofly, taking a long sip from your drink. You knew that you shouldn’t be acting so cold. You had no real reason to be - it wasn’t like the two of you were courting - but you couldn’t swallow the jealous feeling that had risen from the pit of your stomach.
Not only concerned, but confused, he leaned forward to assess your features more closely. “Ah! I’m Gilbert now? What is wrong, mon amie?”
His friend. You barely kept yourself from scowling. “Maybe you should ask your lady friend,” you snipped, putting your drink down in a much heavier fashion than you had anticipated. “I’m sure she’d love to talk to you.”
“Quelle? I mean, what? I do not know what you are talking about, Y/N. Je suis…” Lafayette seemed to be grasping for words, fumbling over himself almost. His English and French going back in forth in some sort of battle for which would dominate his defense.
“Hm?” you finally turned to face him, trying to keep your expression neutral. This wasn’t a big deal, what were you doing? “You’re what, Gilbert?”
A loud huff caused the Frenchman’s chest to rise and fall rapidly. “Mon Dieu! Will you stop calling me Gilbert?”
“Why?” You challenged, unaware that you had inched closer to him, your cheeks beginning to grow pink the more flustered you became. “Does it bother you, Gilbert? Would you rather I call you Lafayette? Like one of your friends?”
Before he could respond, you finally allowed yourself to scowl slightly. A strange expression for your face, as you rarely ever did so around Lafayette. “Well, I won’t. I’m upset, and I will damn well call you Gilbert if I want. If you want someone to call you by that goddamned name, maybe you should just go back to speaking with that woman you were with earlier!”
A look of realization crossed the Frenchman’s features as you continued to go on in your angry rant. He let you continue speaking, waiting to see where you would end. But, he found himself leaning forward slightly as you did, holding back a small smirk.
“I mean, maybe you would rather talk to a woman you barely know instead of a woman who loves you,” you added, glancing over at the delicate looking woman he had spoken to earlier, more contempt flowing into your emotions. “Hell, if I–.” Suddenly, you felt panicked, stopping mid-phrase. What had you just said? Oh, God.
Your own eyes widened in realization as you attempted to think of something to say that might take back the words you had unintentionally let escape your mouth. Lafayette wasn’t supposed to know how you felt for him. This was the one thing you had kept from him, and in frustration, you had let it slip. Your flustered gaze trailed over his features quickly, trying to gauge what he was thinking, his deep, brown eyes seemed almost amused, his lips were barely kept away from a smile. Did he think this was funny?
“What did you say?” Lafayette finally broke the sudden, tense silence you had caused with a question that was loaded with amusement.
Trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest, you shook your head. “Nothing. I said nothing,” you shot back quickly, frantically searching the crowded tavern for the others. Maybe if you found them, it would be an excuse to get out of the situation you had put yourself in.
You were so caught up in your thoughts of escaping possible disaster that you hadn’t noticed Lafayette moving closer to you. His gaze was flittering back and forth between your eyes and your lips as he leaned toward you, and it was only when he was merely a few inches from you that you finally processed how close he was.
“Wh-What are you doing?” You swallowed, your own eyes landing on his lips. He was so, so close. Close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from his body, to smell the mixture of alcohol and warm bread that seemed to be on him. He could see every curve on his face, the stray pieces of dark hair that hadn’t made it into his ponytail, the complete adoration in his eyes.
He was quiet for a moment before he made eye contact with you, not glancing away even once. “Something I should have done a long time ago, mon amour,” he said softly, closing the small gap of space between the both of you.
The feeling of his lips on yours was something you could hardly comprehend. Despite what you had expected, you didn’t freeze up, but instead, melted into his kiss instantly, desperately trying to take in the moment as if Lafayette would disappear any second. His hands moved away from his sides, one gently placed on the back of your neck, the other at your waist, as he pulled you closer.
It seemed to last only a few seconds before you had to pull away from him to take a breath, your lungs burning for air, but your lips burning for his. “Lafayette, I…”
“Je t’aime, Y/N,” Lafayette breathed, still holding you closely to him. “I love you.”
A smile spread over your face as you leaned forward once more, pressing your lips to his again. Never in your life had you felt so blissful, so joyful. Knowing that Lafayette reciprocated your feelings left you feeling like the world was barely within reach, and you were floating high above it.
As your lips moved in sync, you found yourselves growing closer and closer, if such a thing is possible. Your hands drifted down from his neck to his lower back, moving forward, forward. The tight grip Lafayette had on your waist began to move upward, nearly to your chest when.
“My God, Y/N, get it!” A very, very drunk John exclaimed, smirking from where he stood beside Hercules and Alexander.
Hercules looked at you, a mixture of pride and amusement in his eyes before his gaze landed on Lafayette. “I told you she had a thing for you, man!” He half slurred, leaning against the nearby table.
Alex, who seemed to be sobering up slightly, also had a clear smirk on his face as he stated, “Oh yeah, we’re all very proud,” he stated, words only slightly choppy. “God, Laurens, I owe you ten.”
“Maybe we should, as they say, get out of here, Y/N?” Lafayette suggested, and you turned to him, realizing that you had pulled away from his embrace only to be brought back into a loose one.
You smiled, eyes finally leaving the three men. “Yeah,” you hummed, smiling softly back at him, “let’s get out of here, Laf.”
