Author's Note: I know it's been forever since I posted anything, but I felt like it. I wanted to write scenarios without needing to design characters, so I took the characters from the man himself, Lin Manuel Miranda, and wrote some one shots. R&R!

Historical Appearance

Modern AU

Angst, fluff

Brief lams, mullette

John sprawled across the couch with Alex's head in his lap, running his fingers through the curly red hair donning his boyfriend's head. The news broadcasted on their television, the voices drowned out by Lafayette and Hercules who were in the kitchen making popcorn for movie night. It was Hercules' turn to pick, so Alex was getting his nightly dose of the news before the inevitable comedy movie began. So far, Alex had cursed out the president and ravaged his financial plans, and John had cooed at a dog saving a duckling. So, a pretty normal night as far as they were concerned.

"Are you two almost done with that popcorn?" John called to the other two men in the house. The newscaster's voice was beginning to bore him. Alex groaned at John's shout, so being the kind boyfriend he was, he yelled again. "You better not be fucking on our counter!" They heard Lafayette's melodic laugh besides Hercules' booming one. Alex cracked a smile, remembering the time they had, in fact, been doing the deed. John had forced them to clean the entire kitchen until he could see his reflection in the floor, horrified that his marble counters had been blemished. Alex didn't remind him of the countless times they too had blemished those counters.

"At least we know they aren't doing anything," Alex mumbled. John smiled and kissed his boyfriend on the temple.

The timer on the microwave went off, pausing Lafayette and Hercules' idle chatter. Laf poured the buttery popcorn into a bowl, Hercules adding M&Ms to the mixture for John and him. Nothing was better than chocolate and popcorn. Lafayette poured an expensive red wine for Alex and he before grabbing two beers for John and Hercules, then following his boyfriend into the living room, hands full. The three friends settled on the couch while Hercules picked out a DVD from their extensive collection. He was about to change the input on the TV when the newscaster began a new story and Alex threw up his hand to pause Hercules' movement. The other three boys exchanged exasperated glances.

"In other news," a blonde-haired woman began. Hercules started a conversation with John about the new increase in their course load, successfully tuning out the droning on screen. Lafayette stood and grabbed the plates from dinner off the table while he waited, figuring it was better to do the dishes now, than tomorrow morning when they really had no motivation to clean.

"France is crying and the whole world, too, is emotional," the newscaster said. Lafayette paused his movements, turning to the screen. Joining the blonde reporter on screen was the Archbishop of France, the words the reporter had just spouted quoted beneath his picture. "Only a few hours ago, fire overtook the beloved French monument – the Notre Dame." The plates in Lafayette's hands clattered to the floor, breaking with a large crash.

Alex never tore his eyes from the TV screen, only flinching at the noise, but Herc and John paused their conversation, glancing at Lafayette before following his gaze to the screen. Hercules sucked in a breath.

"Oh, mon dieu," Lafayette whispered, tears filling his eyes as he saw one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture – his home – burning to the ground. "No, non, non."

Hardly looking down to make sure he avoided pieces of glass plate, Lafayette ran to the screen, falling to his knees as he watched the Notre Dame falling to a beautiful disaster of dancing flames. This was not supposed to happen. France was supposed to be safe from things like this. Fire wasn't supposed to just appear out of thin air and swallow years of history and love in minutes. France. His home. His beloved.

The screen turned to a video of hundreds of French citizens, hands covering their mouths as they watched on in hazy tears, their posture painfully similar to the curly haired Frenchman on the apartment floor back in the United States. The newscaster continued on by saying it appeared the fire fighters had gotten the blaze under control, but the damage was still existent.

Hercules knelt by his boyfriend, placing a strong arm around Lafayette's lithe shoulders that trembled. He hated seeing his lover like this, and the fact that he could do absolutely nothing about it pained him. Lafayette hadn't been to his birthplace in a few years. His last visit had been with Hercules, John, and Alex; his excitement about showing off France almost overwhelming. When Lafayette had last seen the Notre Dame, his eyes had been so bright, his chest puffed out in a bit of pride that he hardly tried to mask, rambling about how great the French ancestors were. Now, no spark lingered. Only minutes after seeing the tragedy, Lafayette seemed empty.

"I-I'm sorry, I must call…" Lafayette trailed off in a mumble of French words. He stood quickly, catching his balance on the wobbly wood table, nearly sending the flickering candle crashing to the rugged carpet. John quickly blew it out, watching helplessly as his friend fled the scene.

Hercules looked torn between running after Lafayette and holding him tight in his arms, or watching from the sidelines, hearing half of a conversation and trembling tears through their bedroom door. John set a steadying hand on Hercules' arm, telling him to let Lafayette be for a few minutes. Let him sort things out first. John knew that when he was in distress, he needed a few moments alone to cool off and have a good think; whereas Alex's stress often quickly elevated to full blown panic attacks, and John was there almost immediately. Lafayette seemed to need a few minutes with his family and friends back in France. He needed someone to empathize with first before receiving physical comfort.

In the bedroom, Lafayette curled up against the door, knees pulled to his chest as he dialed the phone number of his best friend in France, Adrienne. She was always there for him when his parents left him for weeks or months at a time, keeping him company and inviting him for dinner. He had no doubt that she was watching the horrors through her apartment window.

Three rings sounded through the phone before he heard the soft, shaking voice of Adrienne. "Laf?" She answered.

"Addy," he whispered, the weak dam that was holding his flood of emotions beginning to crack.

"Oh, mon dieu, Gilbert. Where are you?" She asked. Lafayette was sure that she knew the answer, but he responded anyway.

"In my apartment in the US. What is happening?"

"We don't know. All we know is one second the air is bright and fresh, the next, smoke clouds covered the sky and the Notre Dame was on fire," Adrienne said, stifling a sob, lip between her bottom teeth. "It's terrible, mon ami. I don't know what's going on, and mama and papa are out in the crowds."

"It will be okay, please just stay on the phone with me," Lafayette cried softly.

The friends didn't speak, only listened to each other's hitched breathing and wishing they could be in each other's arms, wiping sorrowful torrents off red-blooming cheeks.

Lafayette opened his computer and pulled up the broadcast of the burning cathedral. He saw his people crying and suffering. He couldn't help the animosity that bloomed in his chest. Who had done such a thing? In reality, it was probably an accident, but he couldn't help but blame someone. After the terrorist attack on Paris, was it so hard to believe someone would try to destroy the city again?

Thirty minutes passed and Lafayette simply gazed at the fire having hung up with Adrienne when her parents returned to their apartment. Then, a knock came on the door. "Laf?" Came the gentle voice. Hercules stood with his ear pressed to the door, listening to the sniffles from the other side. He heard the creek of the floorboards as his boyfriend moved to open the door.

Hercules' heart broke all over again. Lafayette's coiled hair was sticking out at strange angles and his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Rushing forward, Hercules engulfed the Frenchman in a hug squeezing the man tightly. Lafayette buried his face in the Irishman's shoulder, tears making Hercules' t-shirt wet. Lafayette's whole frame shuddered with heavy sobs. Hercules silently offered Lafayette his t-shirt as a tissue, not caring if he'd have to do another load of laundry.

"My love, are you alright?" Hercules asked unnecessarily. Obviously, he wasn't. Despite that, Lafayette nodded. Hercules frowned, looking upon Lafayette who was unable to meet his gaze. "No, you're not. Look at me, beautiful." Glassy eyes met soft ones only momentarily. "I'm so sorry, Laf."

Lafayette shook his head. "You have no need to be, mon amour. This is not your doing." Hercules wanted to find who or whatever was responsible for causing this fire and wring their neck. If it was a person, ha, no problem. If it was an electrical problem, Hercules would find the engineer, bring them back from the dead, (because no doubt he was dead by now), and kill them all over again. And if the disaster was caused by a storm, Hercules would find a way to throttle Zeus – to make him pay for hurting the one he loved.

"Do you want to watch a movie still?" Hercules asked having no idea if Lafayette was feeling any better, though he strongly doubted it. He felt Lafayette shake his head back and forth.

"Just hold me," Lafayette whispered. Hercules nodded, pressing a gently kiss to Lafayette's head before moving them both to the bed. John and Alex would get the idea. Before Hercules had come to his lover's rescue, Alex had been on the verge of tears himself, his mother having had a close relationship with France.

It would be okay, Hercules decided. Maybe not now, but soon enough, Lafayette would be okay. Perhaps he would surprise Lafayette with a trip to his homeland.

Only a few days later, news came out that the Notre Dame had experienced minimal damage. Lafayette had nearly cried again from relief when he learned the cathedral hadn't completely burned to the ground. And Hercules was right, it was okay.

WC: 1713