Disclaimer: I never watched the play in person, but I watched the Disney+ version many a times. (Ignore the fact King George never introduces this) I also do not know Lin-Manuel Miranda in real life, or any of the other actors, so when I talk about them, I am talking about fictional characters that share the same names and jobs, not the real person. [Nothing in this fanfic is real]. I don't own any of these properties either.
"IGOTGODDAMNTICKETSDAWGWEGOTTAWATCHIT!" America screamed. He looked like a giddy child bouncing up and down. In his hands were four tickets with black stars on them, but the top point of the star seemed to be a silhouette of a person.
"America, your bastardization of English is hard enough to understand on its own, I don't need you to talk like you're being fast-forwarded," Britain muttered.
America shoved a ticket into Britain's hands. 'Hamilton' it said. Why'd that sound familiar? "Dude, there's this awesome new musical that, like, everybody loves! I love it so much I'd die for it and I haven't even seen it yet, it's that great! They sent me four fancy box tickets because they knew how much more I'd love it after actually watching it!"
Britain did love plays. America's plays tend to be either absolutely nonsensical or not half bad. While a gamble, the odds were in favor of it being enjoyable, especially if they had the best seats in the house. It has been a couple of decades since he'd done something like watch a musical, so it didn't sound that bad. "What's it about?"
"Well, duh, it's about Alexander Hamilton man!" Alexander Hamilton. Why does that name sound so familiar? Britain knew he'd heard that name before, but he couldn't remember for the life of him. It felt so old for some reason.
"Is it a historical musical?" he asked.
America nodded. "Oh yeah! I hear it's real accurate too!"
He had enjoyed all the other historical musicals. The English translation of France's Les Miserables was amazing. He watched it when it first came out in 1985 with France. Granted, it was more fun to watch France cry, but the play itself was great. He was pretty sold, even if America was being vague. It would be a pleasant surprise. There was only one thing stopping him from agreeing. "Who else is coming?"
"Oh, there's me, I was going to invite France since he loves singing and the fourth would be… um… Who else did I wanna invite?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
America snapped his fingers. "Canada! Yeah! You, me, France, and Canada. If you don't wanna go I guess I could get Japan instead, but I think he was hiding in his room at the time, so he wouldn't get all the history stuff."
"No. I'll go," Britain smiled. Him, America, Canada, and France in the same place doing something fun rather than attending a meeting. As much as he hated their politics and plans, he did miss the time they used to spend together. He was nostalgic for it, perfect for a historical musical.
"Awesome! It'll be such a rockin' time! I gotta go invite France!" He ran off to probably get back on his plane.
Walking back into his house, Britain looked at his ticket again. "Hamilton… I guess I'll find out how I know you soon."
They all take their seats in the best seats the theatre had to offer. They sat in no real order. From Britain's right to left it was Canada, him, France, and America - who was scarfing popcorn by the bucket before the play was even close to starting. Britain was thankful his view of America was basically entirely obstructed by the seats and France beside him, since he wasn't in any hurry to watch his former brother scarf food like he hadn't eaten in a hundred years. The dimming lights also helped him ignore America being a slob.
At long last, the play started. The first song of the night. Britain watched as people walked onto stage, wearing outfits that he knew were supposed to look like they were from the mid 20th century. While fairly accurate, he had a lot of first hand experiences with those types of outfits and could point out the inaccuracies. Other than that it was enjoyable enough.
Then they say it. "10 dollar founding father without a father." That's where Britain knew the name from. Hamilton was a founding father, one of those revolutionaries that helped his best colony gain independence.
Dread started washing over the English country. He shook his head to subdue the feeling. Surely nobody would make a whole play about that war. Yes, other wars have musicals around them, but this war was different.
Of course, the next song started and established the date. 1776. He hated that year.
He felt like he was going to throw up blood, which he almost always did when thinking about that dreaded year, but he stopped himself. He needed to grow up. It's been almost 250 years since then, and sure that wasn't too long considering how old he is, but it still was a long time. He remained sitting there, determined to stay for the whole thing. It honestly didn't seem too bad at the moment. Hamilton was just talking to some other people Britain vaguely remembered the names of. One of the people, Lafayette, France definitely remembered much better than Britain. The second his character started speaking french, the country's blue eyes lit up. Britain didn't know if he should be more appalled by his brother basically drooling over a character with two seconds of stage time or by the fact that the characters started saying 'red coat' like it was an insult.
Canada apparently noticed Britain's expression. He leaned close to him and whispered "are you okay?"
It was hardly hearable, since it was Canada saying it, but Britain nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said. It wasn't exactly a lie, he was doing better than he thought he would be once he figured out what the play was about. It helped to dissociate the play from reality and pretend that the characters singing about how they want to fight for their freedom were just made up people from a made up country. There were enough tiny inaccuracies for it to seem plausible enough.
Once removing it from his life, it was a good musical. It was no Shakespeare play, and it was a bit too modern for Britain's taste, but it sounded and looked nice nonetheless. Certain lyrics like "meanwhile, Britain keeps shittin' on us endlessly" made him put his hand over his mouth to stop the blood, but it was fine. Everything is fine. He could sit through a whole three-hour play about how horrible he is and how his little brother disowned him just fine. They even mention King George by name. Visions of his stubborn old boss flashed in front of his eyes. The man who convinced him that going to war was a dandy idea, and that hurting America until he gave in would actually strengthen their bond.
So much regret and guilt got dropped on him through just a couple lyrics. Surely it would only get worse from here, but what was he supposed to do? Leave? It was a super packed, super fancy theatre where he and his fellow countries sat in the best seats it had to offer. Anybody worth their salt would never dream of just leaving three songs in because the play was just too emotional. He was British: he had to keep calm and carry on. Yeah, that slogan was made for when he was being bombed, but honestly, at the moment he wished he was being bombed. At least then he wouldn't have felt so bad.
The play continued. It became watchable for the next few songs, perhaps even enjoyable. It would have been more enjoyable if France didn't keep mumbling about how much he loved Lafayette every time the character talked, but he'd take being pissed off at France being disgusting any day over thinking about the war.
Unfortunately for Britain, Samuel Seabury walked on stage and made the details all too specific to be ignored. Hamilton kept interrupting and debating Seabury, and it all sounded like all those times he and America fought before that dreaded July fourth. Worst of all was the song's ending. "A message from the king" it kept repeating. The king was coming. His former boss. The man who he still, despite everything, still respected and kind of admired would be shown to him singing and dancing and mocked through a biased American lens.
In came George the Third, and it was much worse than Britain imagined. He sat there, watching the play like how a person would watch a train wreck. A train wreck that they were responsible for. That way of watching lasted through the entire rest of the play too. He was in utter misery, trying to cough up blood as discreetly as possible, watching everything he had tried to forget be reenacted before his eyes, painting him and his troops as evil. The villains. The murderers.
He felt frozen in place. More than any other time in his thousands of years of life he wanted to run back home to his country and deny everything that's ever happened in the last 500 years, but he couldn't. It wasn't even just the thought of how rude leaving the play would be that held him stapled to his seat, but to leave the box they were sitting in he'd have to walk past America. The only thing worse than sitting through the play would be seeing the country he raised not only enjoying the recreation of their breaking apart, but absolutely loving it! Britain didn't even need to see America to know he was watching the play as intensely as France was watching Lafayette. When Washington's character came on stage he alone was cheering as loud as the whole rest of the theatre. It was no stretch to think he was on the edge of his seat the whole time.
It was such a shame too. If it wasn't for the fact that he felt he was drowning in every negative emotion possible, Britain would have liked parts of the play. The song where Angelica sings about never being satisfied was beautiful and had absolutely nothing to do with the war, only Hamilton's life, and he would have been fine with that. In spite of the things they did, Britain didn't hold any ill-will against the founding fathers of America, he just unfathomably hated what they caused.
At long last, the Revolutionary War was finished. It was also nearing an hour since the musical started, so an intermission was coming soon. Britain could finally leave. There was no way in hell he'd sit through a second act; he'd rather die than watch more of it. He's died before, and it was always better than what he was going through right then.
Hamilton looked to the audience. "I am not throwing away my shot!" he said. That line had been repeated a lot, but this time it felt different. It had such a finality to it. All the lights on stage immediately turned off. As the rest of the room's lights turned back on, roars of clapping erupted from the audience. Finally, the intermission was upon them. America just had to leave and get more popcorn or something, which it was basically certain that he'd do just that, and Britain would finally be free.
This perfect plan became a lot less perfect when the stage lights came back on and Hamilton's actor was standing on the stage. The audience clapped once more. Britain can hear scattered voices yelling 'Lin-Manuel Miranda'. He knew that was the writer's name, but assumed that was the actor's name too.
Miranda waited for the noise to die down before starting. "Hello New York! Thank you all so much for coming to this showing of Hamilton. Don't worry, I'll let you get on with your intermission soon, but we have very special guests with us here tonight!" he said. Britain didn't know it was possible to dread more than he already was, but alas, hearing that made it happen. "We have in this very theater a man who was there the whole time. He knew all of these amazing founding fathers first hand. He not only fought in the war, he led it right alongside Washington! Give it up for our favorite country: AMERICA!"
Spotlights shone in the four countries' eyes. It took both of Britain's hands over his mouth to not throw up any more blood.
"And he brought friends!" Miranda continued. "By the looks of it, we have Layfette's own France! The war could have never been won without him! And Britain, the one who supported America all the up until the war! Let's give them all a round of applause!"
The audience did just that. They started cheering. America was yelling something about it being 'awesome' and France was being openly pervy toward Lafayette. They were both standing, soaking in every gram of attention. Britain remained in his seat, staring blankly ahead, trying his absolute hardest to not show how horrible he felt.
All the noises were being drowned by a high pitch ringing that kept crescendoing. The room started spinning. So many Americans down there just watched the same thing he did, the story of his greatest failure, and now they were clapping and cheering for the ones that he was fighting against. America was yelling nothing but praises as if they hadn't just watched people act out one of their most traumatic wars. Did the young country really not have anything negative to show after re-seeing the war that put both of them through so much turmoil? Did the war even put America in turmoil to begin with? Hearing his reaction, it surely didn't seem like it.
His whole body felt numb. He barely felt the person beside him shaking him. Looking to the side, he suddenly remembered Canada was there too. "Britain, are you okay? Is there any way I can help? I-I know this must have been hard for you. I can sit outside with you if you'd like."
With a mix of intense emotions, a lack of iron from all the blood he keeps vomiting, and everything else, Britain blacks out. He has no idea what happened, but next thing he knew he was sitting outside on the rim of a fountain. He looked to the person beside him. "A-America?" he mumbled.
"I'm Canada," Canada corrected. "America and France are still inside. Do you want me to get America?"
"No, it's fine as is."
They sat in silence. It was obvious Canada didn't really know what to do. His natural quite modest nature wouldn't really help in the current situation.
It was a few minutes before Canada broke the deafening silence. "Um, do you want anything? It looked like you lost a lot of blood."
"Some beans would be nice." Britain did have a headache, which was pretty tame, but he'd still prefer that it went away, and beans were one of the better tasting iron-filled foods.
The northern country nodded. "Okay. I'll try and find some." Canada left Britain alone.
With only his thoughts to keep him company, Britain tried to not think of the obvious. His mind mostly focused on the city they were in, which, as Miranda said, was New York. It really was a huge, bright, but fairly disgusting city. Broadway was one of the cleaner parts, but the constant noise of bad traffic and angry citizens was still very noticeable.
Something warm and heavy suddenly appearing on his lap made him break away from his silent judging of the huge city. He looked to see a plate with a seemingly medium rare steak on it, then looked up to see the country that gave it to him. He could have sworn that Canada looked more like America every time he saw him.
"I'm guessing they didn't have any beans."
"Yeah dude, it's like 10 at night. No bean shop is open. But there's some great 24 hour food carts all over the place, and they have some baller meat." Ends up Canada looked like America because it was America.
"What happened to Canada?"
America shrugged. "I dunno, I kinda lost him. I'm sure he's fine though."
Britain rolled his eyes. He wasn't surprised America lost his brother, just disappointed. He was also disappointed in the lack of silverware. He wouldn't put it past Americans if they eat steak with their bare hands like animals. "You don't have to stay here with me," Britain said. "You should go watch the play."
"Nah man, it's all good. I've basically seen it before anyway. By the way, I'm sorry dude. I guess I didn't think about how much England-hate there'd be in a story about Hamilton." Britain didn't say anything, so America continued. "And the revolutionary war was a bit much for both of us, wasn't it? I actually didn't pay much attention to the actual war part, I was basically only watching the characters."
That caught the older country's attention. "What, really?" he questioned.
"Yeah. Even though they look nothing like the real people, it was pretty easy to get lost in picturing my founding fathers alive again. It was amazing. I used to hang out with Washington, Hamilton, Laurans, and all of them back in the day. I probably should have spent more time with them too." America looked to the floor. "I was invited to Hamilton's wedding, but never actually went. Wish I did though. The play made it seem like a lot of fun."
Britain was more so questioning the not watching the war part, not the character watching, but it put the whole thing in a different light. The countries all tended to not get too attached to their citizens, since their life spans were always too short. America was more social with his citizens than most. He happily hangs out with plenty of Americans in and out of his politics, but at the end of the day, if anybody asked America to list all of his friends, they would all be the names of countries. Even for him, citizen's lives weren't long enough, so sometimes it was better to stay out of it to not get as hurt.
With that thought in mind, America's love for the play became a lot less painful. He wasn't radiating jubilation because he was relishing in reliving the war that Britain hated so much. He was radiating jubilation because he was living out a fantasy where he was more present in Hamilton's life. That's what plays are for, after all: escaping to a fantasy world, not reliving reality. With all that sprinkling of reality, it must have been so much easier to imagine that he was up there singing with the reanimations of his old friends like he wanted to be. If he were a character in the play, he'd be very sideline at best, but while watching, he could picture being as main as Layfette or Burr.
"Wait a minute, we were there. Why weren't we characters in the play?" Britain asked.
America blinked. "Uh… Copyright?"
He was probably talking about how they didn't sign any life rights agreements, but as countries, they were big enough public figures to not need those. A better answer would be that they're still alive, so turning them into characters probably would have been weird. Without a real representation, America could project onto any other character easier, so it probably worked out for the best.
The little chat with America did make him feel worlds better, but not enough to go back in the theatre. Regardless, he should probably pay back the favor and distract his friend from thinking about how fleeting human life is. "Since we aren't going to watch the rest of it, do you want to tell me the rest of the story yourself?"
The young nation's eyes lit up at the thought. "Oh yeah! So Alex just went into the cabinet, right? Well-" He started going on and on about how he and Hamilton made a bunch of rules for his new nation. Unsurprisingly, he had a lot of details, and it was more interesting than Britain thought it would be. He realized that he never really learned very much about how America created his own government from the ground up.
"- so then Hamilton's wife got a bunch of money for the Washington Monument! And Burr, Hamilton, Washington, and everybody else lived happily ever after and my government was awesome! The end!" America finished. Britain could tell that some of the details were exaggerated or flat-out lies. He knew full well when Washington died, since he was ordered to keep tabs on that, and the story went well past his death without ever touching it. Conveniently, America seemed to completely skip the part of the story where Burr became 'the damn fool that shot him' like how the first song put it. Britain wasn't going to push for it though. All things considered, America probably took as many creative liberties as the musical did. At least in America's story there were eight Schuylers like in reality instead of three like the play suggests.
By the time the story finished, it had been long enough for the play to finish too. People started walking out, raving about the play they just watched. France and Canada were walking out too and making their way over to the fountain America and Britain were sitting on.
"So how was the rest of it?" America asked once the other countries were close enough.
France looked annoyed as hell. "It was terrible. Lafayette was written out completely and his actor even was recasted as Thomas Jefferson. They made him as annoying and clingy as he was in real life too." He glared at America. "And it reminded me, you never helped me fight my revolution like you promised you would."
America smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Sorry, I was busy."
"I WaS bUsY," France mocked.
"I liked it," Canada said. "It became really sad at the end though."
With a show called Hamilton, Britain assumed it ended with the title character dying, hence why Canada would call it sad. Maybe staying outside for the second act was for the best. It gave America an excuse to not watch one of his founding fathers die for a second time.
America shrugged. "Yeah, I'm not surprised. Plays really love to make people emotional." A bit of an understatement.
He stood up and smiled. "But we should do this again sometime! Oh, I know! We should watch Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson together!"
"What? What would that musical be about?" France asked.
"Andrew being emo and expanding America. It's great." The three of them stared at America, all less than thrilled at the idea. "I think Spongebob is coming out with a musical soon if you wanna watch that instead."
"Don't you think you've done enough musical picking for one day?" Britain mumbled. "Maybe I should pick from now on."
"Non non non mon cher, your taste in plays is like your taste in food: épouvantable. I say we go foreign. Japan has a new Hetalia musical we could try," France said.
"Dude, another one? How many of those are there?"
"We don't have to argue about anything, eh. Maybe all four of us can choose the musical when the time comes," Canada suggested meekly.
When, he said, not if. It seemed as if the second play-watching session was set in stone. A re-do of the day, but next time without all the historical baggage… hopefully.
It'll be fun. After all, there's still a million things the countries haven't done. Just you wait.
A/N: The end. Like I put at the top, I don't know Mr. Miranda and this whole story is a fabrication. That being said, what did you think of it? It's a bit less funny and more emotional than my usual Hetalia fics. I'd love to read your thoughts, good or bad! Also, I suck at endings. This is just a one-shot, but I have other Hetalia fanfics that are all much less Hamilton-based. I should also say, this story was inspired by Maakkqqaa's story on Fanfiction . net called "I never forgot it —OneShot—" and it was beta read by Emma. likes. to. write. Great story, and great beta reader. Thanks for reading :)