In the house owned by Alexander Hamilton and the group of people he called friends, there was a set of stairs.
Because the house had to accommodate 12 people (give or take), the top floor was pretty much just bedrooms. Everything else was downstairs on the ground level. And since humans had not yet been granted superpowers, no one was able to fly. So, of course, there had to be a way to reach the bedrooms from the ground floor, and vice versa. That is why their house had a set of stairs.
A set of stairs that just so happened to be the bane of Alexander's existence.
There were a couple of reasons Alexander hated the stairs. For starters, it didn't have a proper balustrade for him to slide down. Second, he was convinced he had been cursed by some sort of stair guardian. It was actually a valid thought, because he had fallen down the stairs two times this week alone-
"-and it's only Tuesday!" the residents of the Hamilhouse (as it had been dubbed - by none other than Hamilton himself) had been subjected to this rant of Alex's three meals in a row. They were quite frankly just over it. Well, the ones who were still in earshot.
(Angelica had retreated to her room, Peggy and Theodosia were listening to music in a corner while Eliza and Maria were talking quietly next to them. Thomas, who had argued with Alexander so many times his ears had actually developed to block out his voice, was trying in vain to get him off the table. John, Hercules, and Lafayette were out that night.)
(The only people listening were James Madison and Aaron Burr, but they too were starting to zone out.)
"Wait, Jefferson, don't you have a legitimate Ouija board under your bed? You've performed some sort of voodoo magic on me, haven't you? Well I'll have you know that- " whatever Alex was going to have him know would never again surface, as Angelica appeared out of nowhere and pushed him off-balance. He floundered in the air before unceremoniously falling off the table with a shriek and a thump. Everyone snapped out of their reveries to watch.
"For the love of all things real, Alex, shut up! I'm trying to study," she growled, taking a seat.
"Alright, alright..." Alex mumbled.
"Wait, you fell down the stairs two times yesterday?" Aaron asked.
"Yup!"
"When did that happen? Do you remember that, James?"
"Nope."
"Neither!" Peggy called out from the corner. Theodosia stood up and stretched. She and Peggy made their way to the table to join them, as well as Maria and Eliza.
"I was here all of yesterday and didn't see that. Now you're just lying, Alex!" Theo said. Alexander rolled his eyes and picked himself off of the floor.
"Now that you're all listening I may as well tell you."
1
It was around 2am on a Monday morning, and everyone was asleep. Everyone except Alexander Hamilton (duh, who else?!). He had been asleep prior to this point in time, but a human's essential need of nutritional substances plagued him in the form of hunger pangs.
When did I last eat? Never mind, I'm awake now. It's food time .
His room was at the end of the upstairs hallway, positioned not unlike the head of a table. So if Alex's room was the head of the table, then the other end was the stairs. Leading to the stairs were everyone else's room (though using the aforementioned metaphor, they could be deemed 'seats'). He passed John's room on the right, opposite to Aaron's. Next were Laf and Herc on the right, with Jefferson and Madison opposing them on the left. The Schuyler sisters shared a room, and across from them were Maria and Theodosia.
It was a layout that suited all twelve of them, although the current female dating situation meant that Maria and Eliza often fought with Peggy and Theo for custody of the smaller girls' room.
And this was the thought pattern that Alexander was so caught up in that he forgot that it was pitch-black at 2am, and he was relying on muscle memory to get him to the kitchen. So, naturally, he did not take into account that Peggy had an irritating habit of leaving her skateboard in the most unfortunate of places.
All these events coincided with him travelling downstairs at a faster rate than usual.
"Shit!"
Fortunately for him, although the balustrade did not have sliding capabilities, it still functioned perfectly well. Instead of tumbling all the way down, he managed to grab it in time and stop his fall. Unfortunately, Peggy's skateboard was not a sentient being and did not have hands to stop its fall. Already weakened from the hard use it was regularly subjected to, it bounced down every single step and broke at the bottom.
"Double shit."
So that is how Alexander Hamilton single-handedly received lovely bruises on all of his limbs, broke Peggy's skateboard, and started a week which would see him trip down the stairs five times in total before it ended.
"And after that, not only did I drive around the whole of New York City in Lafayette's car to find an open store with a matching skateboard to replace Peggy's broken one, but I also neglected my need for food just to complete that task."
"Awesome. Wow. Great story. I feel so honoured that you bROKE MY BOARD AND DIDN'T BOTHER TO TELL ME!" Peggy full-on shrieked at him. Alex raised his palms up in defense.
"Hey, hey, I replaced it didn't I? It's still usable, isn't it?" Peggy huffed at him.
"Whatever."
Theo shoved her playfully.
"You literally told me this morning that your skateboard was suddenly better than it's ever been." (Alex's face lit up at that comment) "I don't see a problem."
"Whatever."
Eliza sighed and leaned into Maria's shoulder.
"So how'd you fall down the next time?" Alexander winced at the memory.
"Okay, so this was also before a socially acceptable time, but it wasn't actually here. Kind of."
2
The second time Alexander Hamilton fell down the stairs it was technically not at the Hamilhouse.
It had taken him about three hours (three!) to find 1. an open store and 2. a suitable and matching replacement for Peggy's skateboard.
Finally, he was heading home. It was 5am now, and not only was Alex hungry out of his mind, he was also sleep-deprived. It was a perfect combination for confusion, so there was actually a valid explanation as to why he entered the wrong house.
I thought I'd locked the door when I left? Whatever, I just want to eat and sleep and eat. In that order. He walked through the door, yawning. Heading towards the kitchen in search of food, it didn't cross Alexander's usually perceptive mind that the stuff in the cupboards were not what he and his friends (read: Aaron) bought or would ever buy.
Since it was still dark enough outside for any light to be of visual assistance, Alex managed not to notice the change in furniture, or even just the change in layout. He did notice, however, tripping over something on the stairs that was definitely not there when he had left.
Even so, that thought only came to mind after he lay sprawled at the foot of the staircase, cursing, and a light turned on in an upstairs room.
"What the actual fuck?!" exclaimed a somewhat familiar voice from above him. Alexander raised his head, and groaned at who he saw. Goddamnit.
Charles Lee leered down to where Alex was.
"What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously.
"Long story," Alexander said, glaring.
"Yo, Seabury! Come look at who dropped in!" Alexander, still glaring, scrambled to his feet, preparing to fight. Out of either of his neighbours' houses he broke into, he just had to choose the one that housed the people he hated most. Samuel Seabury appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Wh- how did you get in here?"
"You left the door unlocked, dumbass."
"Can you three pur-lease keep your voices down? I need my beauty sleep," called a rather aristocratic voice from upstairs.
"Okay, okay, King," Seabury muttered. 'Beauty sleep'? Ha! It clearly isn't working, George. Alex scoffed.
"Are you gonna just stand there, or leave?" Lee matched Alexander's glare.
"Gladly," he said, whirling around and stalking out the door. Alex moved Lafayette's car a little bit forward, and made his way inside the Hamilhouse. This time around he didn't bother to grab something to eat on his way up to his room, nor did he trip on an unidentified staircase object (USO).
Leaving Peggy's new skateboard where he'd originally slipped on it, Alexander Hamilton successfully made it to his bed, and proceeded to sleep for less than an hour until he was woken by someone throwing a rock at his window. (It didn't break, thankfully, or George King would've found himself one follower short.)
3
After his second account of failure, Alexander had his roommates in fits of laughter. Yes, even Aaron.
"And you know the best part? Seabury and Lee were in the same room!"
"Are you implying what I think you're implying?" Maria asked. Thomas' smile took on a sly overcast.
"Oh, I am so using this against them. After all their homophobic comments at debates, they honestly deserve this," Angelica raised an eyebrow at him.
"Is that all you do? Plot and plan against people?"
"That's exactly what he does! See, Angelica agrees with me, don't you?" Alex exclaimed. He received confused looks from all directions.
"Jefferson plots and plans against people! This is your fault somehow," he pointed an accusing finger at Thomas.
"Yeah, right," the accused said, crossing his arms. Alexander whipped out a mini crucifix from his pocket.
"The power of Christ compels you! Undo your voodoo magic, Satan!" they all stared at him, bewildered.
"Ok, one, mean. Two, where the fuck did you get a crucifix? No, scratch that: why the fuck do you have a crucifix?" Thomas asked incredulously. Alexander met his eyes, refraining from blinking for so long that those gathered around the table were once again convinced that this man was Not Human. Angelica sighed, rubbing her temples in a way one does when sensing an oncoming headache.
"Y'know what? I'm grounding you," Alex snapped out of his trance to face her.
"But-" she cut him off with a hand.
"Nope! Don't even try arguing. Upstairs, to your room, and I don't want to see or hear from you until John, Laf and Herc are back to handle your bullshit for me." punctuating her point with a Look™ was enough. Grumbling all the way, Alex turned tail and trudged to his room.
And just because it was one of those days, he managed to fall down the stairs again , bringing the current score to Staircase: 3, Alex: 0.
4
"Wakey wakey! Rise and shine! Réveillez-vous!" the sing-song voice of a certain Frenchman wasn't quite what Alexander had expected to hear first thing in the morning, and his bruised backside protested violently in response as he jolted awake.
"Huh? Wha- oh just you," Lafayette snorted at the words, reaching over to ruffle Alex's hair.
"Oui, it is 'just you', not, perchance, one of your meilleurs amis, no?" Alex pushed his hand away, smiling.
"Yep!" Laf flopped dramatically onto the bed, hand over his forehead like a swooning Southern belle, crying out in French like the theatrical idiot we all know and love him to be.
"Oh, you wound me, mon petit lion! Almost as much as the stairs wound you!" Alexander stopped laughing and scowled, pushing Laf off his bed. It didn't quite go in his favour, as Lafayette grabbed Alex's arm and pulled him to the ground as well. The action caused both of them to split into peels of laughter, because there's nothing funnier than the tables turning.
"I suppose Jefferson told you?" Alex asked once he regained breath. Laf, still gasping for air, nodded.
"Oh! Speaking of Thomas, he's made breakfast if you want it. That's why I woke you up in the first place."
"You go, I'll be there in a sec," Lafayette nodded before picking himself off the floor. He sashayed out the door ie; like a gay bitch, leaving Alexander alone. After cracking his spine and a considerable amount of yawning, Alex too, wrapping his duvet over himself like a cocoon, stumbled to the stairs.
He may happen to accuse Jefferson of voodoo magic every other week, but damn the man could cook! It was almost enough to help him understand why Jemmy James was so infatuated with him. (Almost.)
Alexander would love to blame Thomas for all his problems, even going so far to accuse him of witch-like rituals and evil curses, but really, even this time, it was Alex's own train of thought that caused his fourth tumble downstairs. Despite Thomas' food having distracted his mind, Alexander the Disaster had forgotten about the duvet blanketing his (short) body. He tripped on the edge of it, and instead of fighting circumstance, decided to literally roll with the universe. Alex reached the bottom of the stairs, once again faster than anticipated, and once again being laughed at by the entire Hamilhouse.
5
Okay, this time really was Jefferson's fault. After Alexander had returned to his feet and they'd all finished breakfast, everyone left with different tasks in mind. John invited Alex on a Walmart run, but in consideration of his poor, poor, back, declined. The girls all left for the skate park, while Lafayette and Herc went on a date. In the wake of that morning's Breakfast Extravaganza, Aaron and James went to get the groceries, being the only two actually reliable with Adult Money.
This left Alexander, Thomas, and a whole heap of tension in the air.
"Stop glaring at me."
"I'm not glaring at you."
"Yes, you are. I'd think by now I can recognize your glare."
"Well, you obviously can't-"
"Oh for the love of God, Alexander, shut up!" Alex continued glaring across the room, seemingly silent.
"... you don't even believe in God," aaaaaand there it was. Thomas groaned in frustration before chucking a pillow at him.
"You never know when to quit!"
"At least I'm not a hypocrite!"
"At least I'm not single!" this shut Alex up. He looked away, and Thomas nearly felt bad enough to pity him. 'Nearly' being the operative word. "When are you gonna stop pining and ask him out, anyway?" he taunted. Alex's attention was caught again.
"How'd you know about that?"
"Laf," ah, of course. Their mutual friend.
(Well, all their friends were mutual, Laf was just the closest.)
The shorter man crossed his arms defensively. "I dunno what I'll do." They both went silent again, Alexander taking a ride on a thought train. This specific one was much travelled, it's name being The 'John' Express. They'd met halfway through high school, clicked immediately, and had been best friends for the past five years. Alex had been in love with him for about that long. Everything about him: the way he spoke, the way he took crazy long strides when walking, his infectious laughter, his sunshine smile and, of course, his thousands of freckles, had Alex falling hard from Day One. Not long after they'd met, John even put in the effort to start learning Spanish, just for Alexander! It had been so long , and Laurens, his Laurens, didn't have a clue. Yeah, sure, John was gay, but he'd never shown interest in Alex. It was hopeless, Alex was helpless, and-
"I could give you tips, if you wanted," Thomas offered. It sounded sincere enough, but Alexander was in enough of a Mood to take it the wrong way.
"Yeah, right! Like I'd take tips from you, " he spat. Jefferson's eyes narrowed.
"You're a little shit, you know that, right?" Alex glowered back.
"Stick it up your ass," this exchange was normal enough between the pair, but with today's hostility levels being higher than usual, both parties simultaneously decided upon the same action. Retreat to their rooms before something gets broken. Namely, each other's faces.
They both reached the stairs at the same time, Thomas pushing his way through first. Alex grumbled under his breath, causing Thomas to whirl around.
"What did you say to me?" Alexander rolled his eyes, before trying to move past him. His movements were blocked. "No, tell me what you said."
"I said I thought Madison would have taught you manners by now," something dangerous flashed in Jefferson's eyes. Before Alex knew it, he had been shoved a little bit too hard, his reflexes a little bit too late, and the arm he landed on a little bit too bent for his liking.
Waves of pain washed up his arm as he rolled onto his back, Thomas suddenly at his side looking like he'd seen a ghost.
"Um. Shit?" Alexander barely acknowledged him. He just stared up at the ceiling, and exhaled defeatedly.
"Yeah, I've had that coming a long time now."
+1
The upsides to having a broken arm? Constant affection and worrying from his friends, being the center of attention, and Thomas finally being blamed for Alexander's life difficulties. The downsides to having a broken arm? He could only write with one hand, and no one was letting him be alone for more than five minutes, because it is a well-known fact that Hurricane Alex doesn't stop causing disaster for himself.
This is what led Alex to his final confrontation with the Stairs From Hell, but this time, it wasn't alone.
That morning, John was on Caring For Alex Duty. It was Sunday, everyone else was out, and the inseparable friends had just completed all their urgent and important work. Few words were shared between them, because when you're that close, it's enough to just be in the company of the other. They decided a movie was in order.
"I'll get the snacks, you choose the movie," John offered.
"Deal."
There aren't many words to explain what happens next. Being the dumbasses that they are, they both ran for the stairs. Forgetting they were intended for careful, one-person use, Alex and John tripped into each other. In the quick fall, John wrapped his arms around his best friend, ever the protector, while Alexander fumbled (with his good arm) for the balustrade.
All in all, it was definitely less painful than the arm-breaking incident, and probably Alex's most comfortable landing. The only problem (not really a problem) was that Alexander had landed on top of John. After their hearts slowed down to a reasonable pace, eyes met, heartbeats spiking again. Alex's brain had short-circuited; all that was going on in there was screaming. So his emotions carried him down to meet John's lips, and they kissed. This was no curse. It was a blessing.
For the first time in recent memory, Alexander Hamilton didn't hate the stairs.