Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE:
Hercules huffed impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor. He hitched his heavy green backpack higher on his shoulders and knocked again. He had just arrived at his new dorm room after climbing about a million floors. And the elevator was broken, which had already miffed him entirely too much. Hercules was really not in the mood for a dorm mate who was irresponsible, late, or unwilling to answer the damn door.
If Hercules wasn’t such a kind, gentle, loving person (all three were total lies, he mused, but ‘twas not the time for such trifling matters) he would have knocked down the door with a sledgehammer or something along those lines. But, given his true nature, Hercules refrained from this barbaric attitude and instead nicely knocked again on the door.
When this didn’t work he groaned and slumped down to the dirty brown floor, heaving off his backpack and moving his suitcase to the side so he wouldn’t block the paths of various other dorm-goers (there weren’t any at the moment, but he imagined if there were, they would appreciate the gesture.
Hercules pulled his phone out of his baggy jeans and quickly texted his foster mom back in Ireland that he was at the dorm but it would be a while before he could actually get it.
He winced as he realized it was probably night time in Ireland and he had probably just woken her up. Damn time zones, they’d fuck him up. Then again, Hercules had made a promise to himself not to talk to friends or family in Ireland that much during college. He planned on staying in America, and he had to make new friends.
Now that he had successfully ruined his foster mother’s sleep, Hercules pulled out his earphones, plugged them into his phone, and put on some rap music, bopping his head to the beat and leaning against the wall.
He quickly learned that nodding his head and leaning on a hard surface was not a good combination, and re-positioned himself.
Five minutes passed. Nobody came down the hall and liberated Hercules from the corridor.
Ten minutes. He started playing Neko Atsume and almost cried at how cute the cats were.
Fifteen. Even Hercules’ kind, gentle, loving nature wasn’t going to stop him from breaking down the fucking door if somebody didn’t open the room in the next five minutes.
Hercules decided to listen to some Beyonce. That always cheered him up. And by “cheered him up” he meant absolutely destroyed him. God, her vocals and presence was out of this world. His favorite was probably “Daddy Lessons”.
Before he knew it, Hercules was drifting off to “Hold Up”, which was not at all how he had planned his afternoon to go. Admittedly, however, it wasn’t the worst way to spend one’s waiting time. Hercules enjoyed sleep very much, and he was jet-lagged from the plane flight anyways.
Hercules had been told many times that he slept like a kitten. A giant, muscular kitten. A… Oh, good lord, he could make a pun.
A… knitten kitten. Hercules probably snorted in his sleep. Ooh boy, if Hugh, his foster brother, had heard that one, he would have absolutely snapped. It was a wonder that the family had put up with him so long.
That was a good one, though. And fitting, seeing as Hercules was actually taking fashion and design as a major. Hah. Fitting. He needed to stop.
Bad puns thought up during mid-afternoon naps on the floors of dorms would have to wait, because Hercules suddenly woke up to somebody shaking his shoulder rather harshly, which was rude.
His eyes opened and slowly adjusted to a tall, beautiful young stranger with intriguing facial hair and winged eyeliner so sharp it could have killed him. Hercules’ stomach dropped, strangely, and he scrambled to take his earphones out of his ears because the stranger’s mouth was moving. He was only mildly disappointed that Beyonce was no longer the only thing he could hear.
“Sorry-- What?” he asked apologetically. The person smirked but didn’t answer. Beckoning with one hand, he turned away from Hercules. He slowly got up, head spinning from sleeping on the floor, and grabbed his stuff, noticing the very nice red, white and blue jacket on the stranger. How patriotic. It fit his figure very well. Hercules looked away.
The stranger was opening the door to the dorm he’d been assigned-- 21A, which meant that… this was most likely his roommate.
Hercules was not complaining.
In fact, he was just standing there with his mouth open like an absolute fucking idiot. The stranger had already unlocked the door and disappeared inside, and Hercules quickly followed, stepping into a small room with two beds. It had a grimy brown floor and one side of the room, Hercules was assuming this was the stranger’s, was decorated with a variety of French and American flags, along with some Black Lives Matter posters and a giant poster of Pepe the frog, among others.
Hercules was a little afraid of this stranger, but intrigued.
The stranger, who had strewn himself on the bed on his side of the room, was grinning and staring at Hercules, which made him uncomfortable.
“Hello,” Hercules said, scratching the back of his neck.
“Hello,” the stranger replied. He had a beautiful, lilting French accent that was present even in that simple greeting.
“I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, you may call me Lafayette, and I perhaps will let you call me Gilbert or ‘Laf if we become best friends, which I assure you we will,” he said with a smile. “I am nonbinary. They/them pronouns, please. If you cannot respect this we cannot be room-mates.”
Hercules immediately felt terrible about assuming their gender, and corrected himself in his head. He was still reeling from the mouthful that was his room-mate's name. It made him feel better about his own ridiculous name.
Lafayette’s smile had dropped off their face, and Hercules realized he was staring.
“Oh! Uh. That’s fine. It’s all good. I’m Hercules Mulligan,” he said, “Um. He/him pronouns, please.”
“You are Irish?” God, their voice was beautiful.
“Moved there in high school. You’re French?”
“How you say… Born and raised, yes?”
“Yes.”
“We are going to be the best of friends, Hercules.” The ‘h’ was lost when they said his name, but Hercules didn’t mind.
“We’ll see,” he laughed, putting his bag down on his side of the room. He wasn’t planning on being in the room much, but they would be sleeping in the same space.
Perhaps they could be friends.
“It’s good to meet you, Hercules Mulligan.”
“Likewise, Lafayette.”