Notes: This is just a random drabble that I wrote a couple of months ago and decided to post. Hamilton belongs to Lin-Manuel Miranda, not me.

Alexander Hamilton wrote like he was running out of time. It was just a fact, something that had been there ever since John Laurens had met him in their freshman year of Columbia University. Maybe it was even a drawing factor for John, because in his first year, he wrote almost as much as Alexander. They were an unstoppable duo in debate, able to hold their own even against Madison and Jefferson.

However, now they were Sophomores, John just wished Alex would put his laptop down every once and awhile. He rarely saw his boyfriend without it, and even in the few moments he didn't have access to the device, he always had a pen in hand, scribbling all his thoughts furiously in a tattered notebook for him to type later.

It was starting to become a problem. Or maybe it always had been, just John had been blinded by his own ambition and adoration for the other boy. It didn't change the fact that they hadn't slept together in weeks, and Alex just hadn't slept in nearly the same amount of time. He forgot to eat meals, the ones John left out for him growing cold and going to waste.

His hair was matted and dirty, as Alex claimed showering was a waste of time. Dark circles constantly lined his eyes, which were red and bloodshot from too many long nights staring at his computer. It was no wonder that John was worried about him. In fact, even his teachers had started voicing their concerns. According to a text John had gotten from Washington, Alex had gone so far to ask for work two months ahead of time.

Washington had, of course, drawn the line there, telling Alexander to go home and get some rest and texting John to make sure the boy complied. Of course, he hadn't, and none of John's attempts had persuaded him to slow down and take a break.

John had given up, collapsing onto the couch and starting on his economics project. The apartment grew quiet, the silence only broken by the steady clicks of Alexander's typing and the soft, frustrated sighs escaping John's lips.

It wasn't until nearly an hour later when Alexander's typing finally slowed down. John looked up at the sudden dissipation of the sound his head had almost drowned out. He assumed Alex was re-reading and editing what he had written, but as he focused on his boyfriend, he realised that Alex was shaking. His entire body was, especially his arms.

John frowned, closing his textbook and slowly approaching his boyfriend. He spun Alexander's office chair around so Alex was facing him. Alex blinked, his eyes sluggishly adjusting to the change. John pressed a hand to Alex's forehead, gently brushing the other boy's dark hair away from his face.

"Jesus, Alex. You're burning up!"

"'M fine, John…" Alex mumbled, shaking his head to try and clear his fogged mind.

"That's it." John reached over to shut Alex's laptop, "You need rest."

He slid his hands into Alex's, pulling him to his feet. Alex swayed dizzily, nearly collapsing before John decided to just pick him up, carrying him bridal style to their bedroom. He frowned at Alex's weight; lifting him was much easier than it should have been.

"'Need to finish my paper…" Alex murmured, his face pressed into John's neck.

"You're shaking too hard to type, babe," John replied, carefully depositing Alex on the bed and making sure he was comfortable, before dashing into the master bathroom to grab a thermometer. Surprisingly, Alex didn't argue any further.

"Alright, darling, can you open your mouth for me?"

Alex groggily did as John asked, and John quickly took the opportunity to slip the thermometer into his boyfriend's mouth.

102.5°

Damn.

John returned to the bathroom, digging through the medicine cabinet. Alexander's immune system was shit, and that combined with his disdain for taking care of himself, he got sick quite often. So John always made sure to keep their medicine cabinet well stocked. They would be prepared for anything.

He brought out a handful of pills and a glass of water. Alex hadn't moved from his perch on the edge of the bed, and even in the dim lighting of the bedroom, John could see his flushed cheeks. Alex had screwed his eyes shut, and it looked like he was on the verge of nodding off.

John would very much like to let him fall asleep, but he needed Alex to take some medicine. The fever wasn't bad enough to take him to the hospital, but John worried that it would become so if they didn't take care of it now.

"Alex, baby," he brushed a gentle hand against Alex's forehead, keeping his voice soft and quiet, "can you swallow these for me? You can fall asleep right after, I promise."

Alex blinked slowly, his dark eyes hazy with fever. He fumbled for the medicine in John's outstretched hand, popped them in his mouth, and let John hold the cup to his lips without complaint. He must've really felt like shit if he wasn't arguing.

As soon as John lowered the cup, Alex tilted over with a soft whine, curling up on the end of the bed.

"'M cold," he mumbled, his muscles spasming painfully as he shivered violently.

"I know, Alex," John cooed, gathering his boyfriend back into his arms and pulling him to the top of the bed and wrapping him in several layers of blankets, "Can you sleep? I know you feel like crap, but it'll help you feel better."

Alex reached for John with a trembling arm, grabbing hold to the other boy's faded Fruit Loops T-shirt, "...stay…"

How could he say no to that?

John grinned, slipping into the cocoon of blankets, shifting Alex so he was laying on his chest, "I'm right here, babe, I'm not going anywhere."

And with that reassurance, Alex finally, finally , drifted off to sleep.

So, what do you think? If you liked it, please leave a review! (: