Hello, here's my trash to add to the fandom. I will probably continue this sometime before the year ends.
They were taking a road trip.
More like, Washington had pushed them in a van with only the lamest snacks and a map older than himself and told them to drive to the next state over or stop fighting that minute.
It was one of those big vans that could fit seven people in total. You know, the white ones that look like a pedophile could be driving them. It had the name of George's extermination company of the side and probably the worst breaks in the world.
Instead of a pedophile, a man with his dark hair slicked back and tied in a ponytail of sorts, otherwise known as Alexander Hamilton, sat in the driver's seat. He was red in the face from anger and grumbling about something under his breath as he started up the car.
"Are you guys even sure if Alex should be driving, he could purposely wreck us," a probably-taller-than-Alex man with a sweater vest on asked from the middle seat.
"Do you want to drive then, Aaron?" A French accent, clearly annoyed, says from behind the sweater vest wearing man. Aaron looks behind at him and scowls.
"You know I can't drive a stick." With than he promptly pushes in his earbuds and finds a song on his phone to drown out the sound of everyone.
Alex rolls his eyes and pulls into the road a little faster than he should have, hands white knuckling the steering wheel out of anger. Across from him, a man with a face full of freckles and hair looking more fabulous than my future slides his feet upon the dash and leans back his seat. The man seated behind him kicks the back in return, which makes the other yell at him. Then, they are yelling at each other, freckles and a giant fro of hair.
The man next to the fro is short but sturdy, pushing them apart with jacket clad arms.
"Thomas! Stop fighting with John for one second, for goodness' sake!" The fro of hair, presumably Thomas, stops and sits down at the call. John gives him a death glare and faces forward again.
So it goes on, Alex's pent up anger slowly dying down, John's feet still up on the dash, Aaron's earbuds in with Thomas and the short man sitting next to him, French Accent in the back with a character for which I have not given a part yet sitting next to him.
They drive in silence until French Accent reaches in front of him and pokes Thomas on the shoulder, making the man flinch and look back.
"What is it, Gilly," Gilly flicks Thomas on the nose.
"Don't call me Gilly or I'll start calling you Tommy again."
"What's wrong with that? I call him Tommy sometimes," the short man butts in.
"That's different, you're my boyfriend, he's my spoiled cousin." Thomas presses a kiss to Short Man's head as he says this and goes back to glaring at Gilly.
"What do you want then, Marie?"
"I could kill you right fucking now, Thomas Jefferson, it would be like flipping a switch." A large man with a bandana wrapped around his head pats Marie on the shoulder to remind him that right now would not be the optimum time to do it.
Marie addresses him as Herc and lets himself be cuddled by the large man as to calm down.
All the while, Aaron is happily singing along to some emo music through his earbuds on full volume. Alex decides that even if his singing voice is pretty good he doesn't want to hear it and looks through the radio stations. He swerves after not playing attention to the road for awhile and scares everyone except John shitless.
Short Man coughs and peers over at John, "why didn't that scare you?" John slides on a pair of round sunglasses as to make himself look more badass than he feels and replies, "I live with Alex, and he's the one that drives us to work every morning. He's the certified Worst Driver of the Year™."
Short Man only responds with a 'we're all fucked' and a loud coughing fit.