Chapter Text
There's something about the boy with the beautiful, brown eyes that works in the office. No one seems to know anything about him. No one seems to give enough of a fuck to find anything out. After a week of secret observation it's easy to find out why.
The boy does nothing. He's always in school before anyone else. Always the last to leave as well. That could have something to do with being the principal's lapdog. Washington, the high school's principal, seems to spend more time with him than anyone else. Even his two friends, yes only two. Two other boys who are just as reserved as Mr. Brown eyes himself. They have lunch together everyday and that's about it. No other interactions during the day. Because when the boy isn't sitting in the back of a classroom completely engrossed in his notebook, he's locked away in Mr. Washington's office.
He's known only as Hamilton by those who actually want something to call him. It's what Washington calls him when they're discussing something. Or when he's interrupting a class because he request his specific services. Or when he's barking some demand at him in the office. It would probably be simple to find out what the boy's first name is. Some one could just out right ask him if they wanted to know. Or glace at an attendance sheet. Even go as far as to watch him scrawl it on the top of his papers. His name isn't some cryptic mystery to someone who actually wants something to call him.
Angelica Schuyler wants something to call him.
Has since she was sent to the office for wearing a skirt that Mr. Lee claimed was too short for the dress code. Your dresses, shorts and skirts must must hit fingertip length or longer. So she'd given him a finger tip to consider. Which unsurprising landed her a scheduled meeting in Washington's office to discuss not only inappropriate clothing but now inappropriate hand gestures.
These interactions were nothing new to Angelica. It came with the territory of being a varsity cheerleader. It's not like she purposely acted out to impress her more popular friends. But she did have an image to uphold. Ugly, knee length skirts were not a part of that image. That and her tendency to spit sarcasm without a second thought landed her with more pretty pink detention slips than her 'permanent record folder' could hold.
Hamilton was standing behind the receptionist's desk when she walked in that day. His face hidden behind a book with a title too uninteresting to consider reading. The top of his forehead and his messy bun stuck out above the hardback. Neither of those were particularly interesting either. So Angelica took her usual seat on the left wall and waited. All of two minutes passed before the familiar Hamilton was demanded from the inside of Washington's private office door. The boy immediately placed his book down and vanished towards the sound. Leaving her with just a glimpse of pretty eyes, tan skin and facial hair.
Angelica was more prepared to take him in when he returned. And take him in she did. The book barrier was no longer a problem. Whatever task Washington requested of him required the computer. As he typed and scrolled, Angelica watched and waited. He was attractive in the sort of way that unattractive people could be. All his features were odd separately. Hair that was too long. Eyes that were too wide. Nose that was too big. Lips that were too arched. Everything was just too something on it's own. Together though, that was a different story. When they were on one face the 'too' canceled out. Then it was hair that looked really soft. Eyes that were strikingly brown. Nose that was perfectly shaped. Lips that were pink and full.
Angelica was infatuated.
Angelica is infatuated.
Even now as she watches him from across the lunch room. Hamilton is of course oblivious to her sudden interest in him. Hamilton seems to be unaware of most of the world around him. When he's in class, his pure focus is his notebook. In the office his pure focus in whatever Washington commands. In the lunchroom, his pure focus is on the two boys sitting with him. He places himself in a bubble doing all things. Nothing seems to exist around that bubble for him.
Angelica wants to pop it.
"Angie, got damn girl! You look that fine on purpose? Your father must have bathed you in gold the day you were born 'cus you're looking hella rich."
The exaggerated compliment is just one of the many reasons Aaron Burr disgusts her. She's told him as much in the past and still he insists on this daily routine of hitting on her just to be rejected in front of an entire table of cheerleaders. Today is going to be no different.
"Burr, just thinking about your presence makes my ass itch."
The table erupts in surprised laughter. Burr himself can’t hold off his chuckle at the information.
"I’ll I got from that is how you think about me and your ass." He drops into the seat beside her. "That's it."
She makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. Instead of engaging in further conversation with a guy she'd pay to see get his ass beat by the football team, she grabs her tray of half eaten food and headed for the trash. She drops the Styrofoam in. Glancing over to see if one of her friends have kicked the trust fund baby from their space yet. Her view is blocked by another student who'd been walking behind her to rid himself of his tray as well.
Hamilton.
Her heart hiccups.
"Hi."
He startles at the greeting. The tray's journey into the garbage pauses when he turns to look at her.
"What?"
She smiles in the way she knows will showcase her dimple. "I just said hi!"
Hamilton appears personally offended by the idea. He turns stiffly back to the bin and dumps what is left of his lunch. Angelica notices that most of his lunch is in fact left.
"Hello." The reluctant mutter is clearly out of obligation.
"My name is Angelica Schuyler." She sticks her hand out as if handshakes were the everyday way teenagers greeted each other.
"I know who you are."
Her heart does that jumping thing again. "I don't know who you are."
"Alexander Hamilton."
Despite his standoffish attitude he takes her hand in his gently. His calloused fingers feel good against her smooth ones. Angelica's father had always told her that your could tell how hard a man worked by his hands. And Hamilton- no, Alexander- is clearly a hard worker. He doesn’t hold her hand for a second longer than necessary.
"It's nice to meet you."
"Really?" He lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. Angelica is not accustomed to being regarded as unimpressive. "Why?"
"I-um, well because-" Who the fuck asks a question like that? "Because I always see you around and I wanted to meet you."
"Why?"
‘Because I've been masturbating to the thought of you for a week now’ seems too forward. So she goes for,
"I don't know." She shrugs in a way she hopes is disarming. "You just seem interesting."
It works. His eyebrow returns to it's proper place. His impassive expression shifting to something more open. Not exactly a smile but maybe something that could shift into a smile eventually. Still, it feels like a win.
"You're in the office a lot."
So he noticed her. "It's mostly dress code shit."
And then those mesmerizing eyes are appraising her. Giving her a once over that is as slow as it is exciting. Angelica instinctively sucks in her stomach when his gaze begins to lower. When he returns to her face he is definitely on the verge of smiling.
"I think you're dressed okay."
She glances down at her attire. The green and white cheer uniform. There’s a prep rally after school today. "I'm only allowed to wear short skirts and small shirts when it benefits the school."
He nods. "It's kind of perverted if you think about it. Who picks the uniform? Who decided they wanted to see a bunch of pretty, teenage girls in skirts that short?"
Angelica tilts her head to the side. "You think I'm pretty?"
Hamilton glances at something over her shoulder.
"Angie." That is unmistakably Eliza's voice. "What are you doing?"
"I was talking to Alexander." She motions to the boy in front of her. "This is Alexander. Alexander, this is my best friend, Eliza."
"Hi." His greeting to the other cheerleader is as cold as his greeting to Angelica. Eliza's face twists.
"Hey." Her friend latches onto her arm. She leans in close to whisper a little too loudly, "Why are you talking to him?”
Angelica glares at her. "Because I want to."
"You can't just talk to people like him, Angie. How will it look?" Eliza glances back at their table, her long hair swinging as she does. "What if everyone sees you talking to this nobody and-"
"You know, I can actually hear you." Alexander interrupts. A deadly look in those stunning eyes. "I'm just going to leave and save you the embarrassment, Angelica. It was nice to meet you." He spares a look for her best friend. "Eliza, you're a rude bitch."
Angelica chokes out a shocked laugh. Eliza looks completely scandalized.
After a brief interaction with her first period teacher that ended with her yelling shoulders are fucking shoulders and there is nothing inappropriate about them, Angelica finds herself trudging to the principal's office for the second time that week. It’s Tuesday. Her father is going to kill her when she gets home. But it’s not her fault that the school's dress code is fucking stupid!
Her eyes dart to the front desk when she enters the main office area. The cold rush of disappointment washes over her when she sees the usual receptionist sitting there. Typing away at a much slower pace than Alexander is capable of. The woman, who's name she couldn't remember for the life of her, doesn’t look surprised too see Angelica walk in. She shakes her judgmental head and nudges her chin towards Washington's door.
"Mr. Washington wants you to wait in his private office. He says to let you know he's finishing up a meeting and will deal with you shortly."
"Good to know." She flashes a smile just for the sake of getting under the woman's skin. "Tell the old man to hurry up, would you? Waiting isn't a skill of mine."
"Apparently neither is behaving is class."
Angelica snickeres at the not so subtle reference to her frequent office visits. There is no need to knock on the door if the man is truly elsewhere. So she barges into the room. Letting the door slam shut behind her. A pair of warmly familiar eyes land on her when she enters. Her heart stutteres as it is wont to do when she looks into the eyes of Hamilton.
He is standing behind Washington's desk. Flipping through a stack of papers that has to be at least a foot tall. He freezes when he spots Angelica.
"I- Washington said I was supposed to wait in here. I'm in here for him." She finds herself explaining as if she is afraid Alexander might thin she came in there expecting to find him.
"That's fine." He is carding through the papers on the desk again without a second thought. "I just need to find a file and I'll be out of your hair."
Angelica winces at the way he says it. "I'm sorry about Eliza. She can be a -"
"A bitch?"
"Alexander."
"What?" He snatches a single sheet of paper from the stack. "It's true."
"She's just used to things being done a certain way."
"And what way is that?" Instead of immediately leaving now that he'd found what he was looking for, he leans his hip on the edge of the desk. "Popular kids hanging with other popular kids? Nobodies like me handing with other nobodies?"
She glances up at the ceiling in embarrassment. "Something like that."
"Didn't High School Musical teach us that shit was bad like a decade ago?"
"Stick to the stuff you know." Angelica half mumbles , half sings the words.
"The status quo." Alexander speaks from a much closer distance than Angelica remembered him being.
Her eyes lower to see he moved while she was avoiding his gaze. Alexander stands in front of her. They’re much closer than they were in the cafeteria. No more than a foot of space between them. He searches for something in her face. His eyes are even prettier up close is the only thing her brain unhelpfully supplies. She shakes her head to try for another thought.
"This is so incredibly cliche." That was better.
"What is?"
"This whole things." She motions between them. "Popular girl about to be kissed by the weird, nerdy boy who is secretly hot."
That earns the smile she's been waiting for since she laid eyes on him. It is more than worth the wait.
"You think I'm hot?"
"Only if you still think I'm pretty."
He responds by closing the already small space between them.
"You think I'm about to kiss you?" Alexander's head tilts towards her.
His face is close enough that Angelica can feel every breath that passes through his parted lips. Her heart is jumping again. Way more than before. It takes a moment for her frazzled brain to remember she has to put some effort into this thing too. So she pushes her chin up. Their lips brush and her eyes flutter shut. Alexander's mouth moves against hers again. Not quite kissing her yet. Just letting his lips get a feel for hers. It’s a stark difference from how other high school boys kiss her. They’re fast and hard. Too much too soon.
This is better.
As if he is reading her thoughts, Alexander laughes. His chuckle washing over her lips. The taste and smell of coffee and mint gum fill her senses. She wants more. Angelica swallows down the last of her reservations and rises onto the balls of her feet. The firm press of Hamilton's lips are on hers for a fraction of a second when.
"Ms. Schuyler." Washington's door clicks open.
"Shit!"
Alexander jumps back so hard that he almost stumbles into the desk. His paper slightly crumples in his hand. The principal frowns in confusion when he sees his right hand man is also in the office.
"Hamilton, what are you doing in here?"
"I needed a file, sir." He holds up the hand with the sheet.
Washington doesn’t look convinced but he also doesn’t look like he cares enough to dig deeper. "Very well. If you'll excuse me, I need to have a private talk with Ms. Schuyler."
"Yes, sir." He duckes his head. His fingers brush the back of Angelica's hand when he passed her on the way out.