Chapter Text
Alexander decided to take a taxi to the office.
Washington offers to drive him but the young boy only shakes his head and waves his hand.
“I can't show up with you. It will look too suspicious.” He says fixing his tie.
It's a silk green tie that Washington brought for him. Alexander refused to accept anymore stuff from him but when he showed the boy the emerald green tie he took it quietly. Washington took it as a victory.
So Washington watched him quietly, eyes studying the carefully guarded boy as he tries to fix his tie.
“Here let me help.” Washington finally says after watching Alexander and his failed attempts at properly tying it.
At first he thought nothing of what he was doing, the close proximity to Alexander, the way he could feel his breath on his fingers as he carefully crafted the tie into his favorite style. He didn't notice the way the boy's eyes got wider and his pupils got a little more dilated. He didn't notice any of it until he was taking a step back, suddenly missing the scent that he’s grown to know as Alexander . It smelled of many things, things that Washington linked to Alex. Cinnamon raisin bagels, the ones he used to watch Alexander eat at the coffee shop. Vanilla, the shampoo Alexander uses in his hair. Mint from the gum he was always chewing. And then there was the faint smell of Washington's own cologne, sometimes Alexander would wear his clothes. This was what Alexander smelled like and Washington would never admit it but, God it was lovely.
He didn't notice how lovely it was until he was stepping back.
“There.” He says, voice a little horse from the new found tension in his chest.
Alexander stares at him, almost as if he is thinking the same things as Washington. Almost like he is missing the older man's scent. He studies him closely, and Washington feels uncomfortable under the gaze of his brown eyes.
“Well if you're taking a taxi I suppose you call them now, don't want to be late on the first day now.” Before Alexander can reply, Washington is grabbing his coat and rushing out of the apartment.
He can still feel the burn of Alexander's eyes, setting his body on fire with a million questions and smoke full of growing desire.
He shakes his head.
Alexander wasn't staring at him like that.
He remembers that night.
He pretends not to and Alexander doesn't confront him about it, so he lets it sit between them in a hushed secret and unanswered question.
He can't even explain that night.
Washington has always been a strong man. He has rarely ever shown emotion, especially to a stranger. And when Martha died yes, he did break down a little. But it was in his bathroom, away from the world and it's prying eyes. And even then he didn't cry. Instead he started to breathe loudly, grabbing onto his face and closing his eyes tightly, trying to stop the memories of his beautiful wife from filling into the functioning parts of his brain.
He broke down, but no one saw it.
No one should ever see George Washington break down.
No one ever did.
Until Alexander Hamilton came around.
He saw Washington not only crying, but also washing up a dirty ass street cat, chanting his dead wifes name.
Alexander Hamilton didn't just see Washington breaking down.
He saw him at his rock bottom.
The rock bottom in which Washington has been burying deeper down throughout his entire life.
He saw it so easily.
Washington let him see it so easily.
And as he walks to his car he suddenly feels vulnerable. Exposed.
Naked.
And no he doesn't like it one bit. He’s spent his entire life building this facade as The George Washington. This strong man who has worked for everything he has and has survived a war, the death of his family, and his wife and only continues to grow stronger.
But Alexander comes in and he finds himself drunk on the side of a tub cleaning a cat.
This isn't normal.
And Washington knows it isn't right.
So he gets into the car. Lips in a thin line and brows stitched together.
It's raining outside. The water creating slush on the side of the New York streets and Washington tries to drive slow but he can't help but to push his foot on the gas a little harder than necessary.
Alexander walked into his house, and began picking apart Washington's armour. Peeling it away like it was dry paint on an old wall. And Washington.
Washington let him.
_____________________________________
When Washington does get to work, he is shocked to find Alexander already at his desk.
Hes got a few folders with him, a coffee mug (one that looks like it's from Washington's apartment) in his hand.
“Good morning sir.” Hamilton says seriously, a curtain of stiff professionalism gracing over him and at first Washington goes silent and a little shocked at it.
He isn't used to Alexander calling him sir. And he doesn't know if he likes it or not.
Whatever his opinion was on the matter would have to wait, his mouth speaks before he comes to terms with it.
“Good morning Hamilton.” Washington says curtly, not even stopping to look him in the eye.
Hamilton may be able to mysteriously unlock him at home.
But he refuses to let him get him here. This is his territory. He is the general here.
So Washington puts on a straight face and tries to focus on his work.
Alexander comes in and out through the day, collecting papers to reread, lunch to get, and coffee mugs to refill.
It's when they are currently typing away on their respectable laptops when Lafayette comes in, eyebrow raised at Alex.
“Is this the new assistant?” He says playfully, that classic winning smile on his face.
And though Alexander looks a little tired and lost, he smiles his own winning smile nonetheless.
“It is.” He stands and holds out his hand, proper. And Washington takes note of it.
“My name is Alexander Hamilton.” He smiles again, this one showing the discombobulation and tiredness of the day.
Lafayette raises a brow again and shakes his head, showing that he likes what he sees.
“Il est si petit George.” Lafayette says, his accent thick. And Washington is shaking his head.
“English, Laf. It's rude to do that with someone who doesn't understand you.” He signals to Alexander who remains quiet.
Lafayette doesn't acknowledge what Washington says and instead focuses his attention back to Alex.
“And I am Marquis de Lafayette, but you can just call me Lafayette. Better than the ‘sir’ George is making you call him.”
“I am not making him do anything Lafayette and we all know your name is actually Gilbert.” Washington says tightly, eyes never leaving the computer screen.
Alex chuckles at that, and Lafayette rolls his eyes. He turns to Washington, a smile in his voice.
“Ne me gêne pas devant du petit lion. ” He says eyes bright. Washington raises an eyebrow at the nickname but Lafayette is already turning back to Alexander.
“Ignore him, he can be quite moody sometimes, you’ll learn that soon enough.” Alex shakes his head, trying not to laugh and Washington clears his throat.
“Don't you have your own assistant to bother?” Washington says in a stern voice, but the Frenchman flinches not once.
“I do, but it seems Mr. Hamilton here needs something to smile about. Vous êtes le tuer . ”
Hamilton remains silent while Washington speaks.
“I've done no such thing.”
“Why don't we ask him? Mr. Hamilton, has George been making your life a living hell here so far hmm?” Lafayette asks and Alexander laughs.
Washington feels warm at it.
“No sir, Mr. Washington has been extremely kind to me, in many ways.” Alex smiles and Washington knows the boy isn't just talking about this job.
Lafayette looks suspicious but drops the matter nonetheless.
“Il n'est pas dit la vérité.” He finishes and Washington rolls his eyes at that.
“Alright, I’ll believe you, for now.” He turns and begins for the door but first he stops and turns to Washington.
“Je prie pour qu'il va survivre ” Lafayette says aloud, and before he can make his dramatic exit, Alexander is speaking.
“J'ai toujours survivre” Alexander says suddenly. And his voice is slick, smooth and thick like syrup.
Both Washington and Lafayette stare at him with panic and wide eyes, jaws slack in disbelief.
Has he understood everything?
Hamilton smirkes, quirking his eyebrow at the two men before sitting back down at his desk to shuffle papers.
They stare at him some more and then Laf is speaking.
“Well. This has been...educating….I….I should go to that….meeting...” Then he is gone.
And Washington wants to laugh at that. At the fact that someone has finally rendered the Frenchman speechless but he doesn't and instead looks at Alexander.
“I didn't know you spoke French.” He tries to say nonchalantly and hopes that the shakiness he is feeling isn't heard in his voice.
“I can't show off all of my assets at once sir.” Hamilton replies, not looking up from his stack of papers.
“So that meant you understood everything he said?” Washington asks though he already knows the answer.
“Yep.” Alex starts. He looks up and then back down again. “And I must say that I like that nickname quite a lot. Little lion. Very charming.” He smiles at Washington and suddenly everything is normal again.
Washington hums in response but doesn't say anything else.
He just takes this new found information about the boy and stores it in his brain.
Hamilton can speak French.
_________________________________________________________
After what seems like years, the day is finally over.
Washington dismisses Hamilton in a stiff professional kind of way.
He pats the boy on the back, in that soothing way he knows Hamilton likes, and gives him a nod of approval.
“God job my boy. You can go home now, get some rest.” He tries to make it sound as foreign as possible.
Tries to make it sound like he has no idea what Hamilton will be doing after he walks out of those office doors. Like Alexander isn't coming back to his apartment and putting on one of Washington's old Harvard tee shirts. He tries to make it sound like Alexander isn't going back to his home to lay on the couch and watch episodes of Full House in that Harvard tee shirt.
But some of the familiarity bleeds through his words and Alexander is giving him a small knowing smile and suddenly Washington can't breathe very easy.
“Thank you sir. I couldn't have asked for a better first day.” And Washington doesn't know if Alexander is being serious, or just teasing but either way he feels good about the comment.
Alexander leave first, catching another taxi. And Washington follows close behind.
When Washington does get home, Alexander is already in the kitchen cooking.
He walks in, silent. Waiting for Alexander to speak first, waiting to see how the boy is doing and if he is in the mood to speak at all.
He does this because he notices something is off with Alexander the moment he walks in.
The boy's shoulders seem tense and his hair is still in a tight ponytail, not at all like the loose bun he usually does when he gets in for the night.
He’s leaving back out.
“What time will you be back?” Washington asks simply, trying to hide the newfound coldness and frustration in his voice.
If Alexander notices it, he ignores it.
“I don't know.” He sighs.
And Washington leaves before he says something he is going to regret later.
He sits on the couch, Full House playing on the t.v though he isn't paying attention to it.
After about 20 minutes Alexander calls him in for dinner.
He made something simple. Some chicken and vegetables covering the entire giant plate with a glass of water sitting next to it.
“Thank you.” Washington says. And he sits and begins eating.
He can hear Alexander fumbling in the background. Cleaning up and washing dishes and when he’s done with all that he goes to put on his coat.
It's silent for the most part. Except for the sounds of the fork hitting the plate and the zipping up of coats and boots.
FInally he hears Alexander clear his throat.
“Thank you.” he says quietly. And he pauses for a moment and begins to speak again.
“Thank you for everything. You don't know how grateful I am.” Alexander laughs a dry and bitter laugh.
“And I know it's hard to understand George but, I just can't up and leave from what I was doing before. I still have unfinished business. I still have to fight.”
“So let me help you.” Washington doesn't turn around to look at him, he has no energy to.
“Don't. You're helping me enough...I...I don't want you to get hurt.”
“Nothing can hurt me.” Washington proclaims. And yes, it's true.
“I can. And I won't. I won't.” Alexander touches his shoulder.
It goes silent between them again. And Washington can't take it.
“What are you fighting for?” Washington stares at the half empty glass of water. “Tell me what are you doing? Who are you?” He looks up at the young boy but Alexander is already at the door.
He never answers the question.
“I'll see you later George.” Alexander says over his shoulder.
Then he is gone.
And Washington doesn't know how long he is sitting in that chair, staring at that glass of water but he does know how hard his heart jumped when his phone rang.
He picks it up in fear, hoping it's Alexander but at the same time hoping it's not.
He doesn't know exactly what he was expecting but he wasn't expecting the name Angelica Schuyler to be on the screen.
He answers it nonetheless.
“Hello?” He answers.
“George? Hi it's me, Angelica Schuyler. I didn't know if you had my number or not.” She says sweetly, and maybe if George was much more younger and naive he would've said Angelica sounds like a sweet and caring daughter with honey to her voice,but he isn't. He knows that that's only half of Angelica Schuyler. Actually it's less than half of her character.
“Hello Ms. Schuyler.” Washington says formally and he can hear Angelica suck her teeth.
“If you call me Ms. Schuyler, that means I would have to call you Mr. Washington. And rest assured George, I am in no mood to be formal with my uncle.” And Washington almost smiles at that.
Almost.
“I am not your uncle though.” He replies.
“You are close enough.” And he can practically see Angelica rolling her eyes.
“If so than why have you waited so long to call me?” Washington asks matter of factly.
“We've been having some issues.” Angelica answers and suddenly he can hear the tiredness in her voice.
“What do you need?” Washington asks.
“We need a break.” And Washington knows just who the we consists of.
“I can't say that New York will be anything different from London, my love.” Washington looks out the window above the sink, watching as the lights of the city blow up into tiny little stars of a dark night.
“You'd be surprised George. Things always seem predictable until they are in your face.” Angelica says quietly.
“When will you be up?” Washington begins for his room, the weight of the day finally settling in on his bones.
“Can you give us a week?” Angelica breathes deep.
“Of course, I'll email you your hotel details and what not.” Washington reaches his room and opens the door, his heart sinking with the memories of what happened a few nights ago.
With Alexander.
“You do realize you can just text me it right?” He can hear the smile in the girl's voice and so he pulls out a light chuckle despite his overall emotion.
“Right, I'll try that first.”
“Thank you George, so much. We’ll see you there next week.” Angelica says.
“Anytime, can't wait to see the three of you.” George finishes. And at first he thinks he should tell Angelica about Alexander but then he remembers how tired he is and how beaten down Angelica sounds and the fact the Alexander is god knows where and suddenly he keeps his mouth shut.
Angelica whispers a goodnight. And hangs up the phone.
After Washington is finished with his nighttime routine he gets into bed.
And something about it feels more empty than usual, and he can't really explain it.
Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't hear that blow dryer going off in the background.
Or that he doesn't smell the cinnamon raisin bagels that are usually in the toaster by now for a snack.
Or maybe it's the fact that Alexander isn't home again.
Whatever it is, Washington tries to push it out of his mind.
Alexander was gone but he would be back by morning.
And Washington's headache would be gone by morning.
He had to focus and get everything ready for his dear friends.
There is too much to do.
The Schuyler sisters would be arriving in less than 7 days.