Archive of Our Own

Aaron crosses the street in quick strides as he makes his way toward his favorite coffee shop. This is the routine with him and Angelica, they meet for coffee on Tuesdays to debrief. She is busy rising through the ranks of the one medium-sized law firm and he is busy running one of the two small cupcake shops in their town. Angelica and Aaron both attended undergrad together and despite their different majors (Culinary Studies & Pre-Law) they found each other in a mandatory diversity course. Once their educations began branching into different paths, they established weekly coffee dates to keep up with one another. He strolls into the café and the really cute barista already has his drink ready in the pick-up area of the bar.

“Thanks Jon,” Aaron grins, and drops a few dollars into the tip-jar. Jon ducks his head and Aaron can see the blush spread across his cheeks. Jon comes into the cupcake shop every few days and claims he is browsing, Aaron has just fallen into a habit of giving him any new flavors he is working on. Angelica says he should just ask Jon the really cute barista out, but Aaron doesn’t do anything without thoroughly obsessing with every possibility. He makes his way to the back of the shop and he sees Angelica’s standard half-up, half-down hair do. Sitting across from her is one Alexander Hamilton, the owner of the competing cupcake shop. Aaron checks his watch, unsure of whether he is early or if there’s something he missed. Hamilton meets his eye, his expression already turning into displeasure. Angelica follows Alexander’s gaze.

“Aaron,” Angelica greets, and rises to meet him in a hug.

“Why is he here?” Hamilton asks, not making a move.

“I need to talk to the two of you,” Angelica states. She moves to sit back down and signals to the seat across from Hamilton. Aaron questions her with his gaze, but makes no comment. He settles into the seat, not entirely looking at Hamilton who he can feel is glaring at him.

“Ang, seriously, why is he here?” Hamilton sounds like a child, looks like one too with the frown he is sporting.

“This is an intervention,” Angelica says, “after the battle to cater ‘Liza’s birthday last week, we all decided there needs to be a better way to resolve this.” Angelica points back-and-forth between the two of them.

“I admit we did go overboard,” Aaron concedes. He and Hamilton spent weeks badgering their friends, birthday girl included. Eliza felt so guilty she contracted both of their services, leading to far too many cupcakes leftover at the party. During clean up,Hamilton and Burr got into it and while it is still unclear over who threw the first cupcake (Aaron claims it was Hamilton), an all-out cupcake war was had. Alexander had been washing buttercream out of his hair for the last few days, and Aaron’s favorite apron had a massive raspberry stain that would not come out.

“Overboard?! The two of you destroyed my living room. Do you know how hard it is to dry clean suede pillows?” Angelica glares at them both. Aaron is smart enough to keep his mouth closed.

“I mean it was all his fault,” Hamilton screeches, drawing the attention of really cute Jon. “I was packing up and he picked up one of my cupcakes, took a bite, shrugged and set it back down. He looked at me like I was stupid,” he rants, “I am not stupid. I know how to make a good cupcake, a great cupcake even. Anyone can shape some fondant or pipe some icing well, but my cupcakes are flavorful and creative.”

“Your cupcakes always look amateurish,” Aaron returns because he can’t help himself.

“Your cupcakes are bland as shit.” Hamilton knows he is reddening.

“Better bland than sloppy” Aaron pairs that with an arc of his brow. At this point he is entirely unsure if he is still talking about the cakes. Hamilton rises from his seat, as if he is going to jump across the small table and beat Aaron up.

“Alex, sit down. We are not doing this here,” Angelica orders. She sounds absolutely exasperated. Alexander glances at her, and the hard look in her eyes makes him reconsider his next move. He sinks slowly into the chair. Aaron smirks. “You too Burr, stop it.” The smirk falls from Aaron’s expression. 

“Angelica, as lovely as it is to see Hamilton, can you please tell me what is going on?” Aaron asks, then makes a point of checking his watch, despite knowing that he has the next hour free.

“We all have agreed that it’s time for this to end,” Angelica begins.

“Who is ‘we’?” Hamilton interrupts. Aaron thinks that in a different life Hamilton would have been a lawyer and would be Angelica’s problem and not his.

“My sisters, Laf, Herc, literally everyone around the two of you. The entire town has feelings about this,” Angelica explains. “Now let me finish. So, we all agreed that after the Eliza incident this rivalry needs to end. We know neither of you will concede, and you have bribed too many people in this town with dessert baskets for anyone here to be a neutral arbiter, so I made a decision. I signed you both up to be on this cupcake-baking show.”

“No,” Burr states instantly. He is not going to go on television with Hamilton.

“There’s a ten-thousand-dollar grand prize,” Angelica emphasizes.

“Ten thousand dollars?” Hamilton smiles and all things considered, Aaron thinks it a nice smile even when on an unpleasant person. “I’m in.”

“I am not,” Aaron states immediately. “Why would I go on national television with him?”

“Aaron,” Angelica has a whole argument ready but it is usurped by Alexander.

“Scared you gonna lose, Burr?” Hamilton grins. “You know you could just admit now that I have the best cupcake shop in town and that’ll be the end of that. You won’t even have to be humiliated on television,” Aaron glares at him, openly hostile. “If you don’t go on, when I win, people will know I am the better baker anyhow, so don’t even worry about it.”

“Fine,” Aaron snaps out. He knows Alexander is baiting him, but if he were to win it would bring more traffic into the store and he could probably go on vacation with those ten thousand dollars, or maybe buy a new oven.

“There are some screen tests you all have to do, just to make sure you are camera ready and all that, but I spoke to the producer about your rivalry and she says that kind of stuff makes for good television so they’re excited to meet you both and your spot on the show is all but guaranteed,” Angelica explains.  She looks satisfied with this outcome. Alexander finishes his coffee in one gulp.

“Look I have to get back to the shop. It’s always good to see you Angelica,” Hamilton winks at her, an indecent smile on his lips, “you Burr, not so much.” Alexander rises in his stained apron, and heads for the door.

“Angelica Schuyler, what have you gotten me into?”

Aaron and Alexander’s screen tests are scheduled for different times and Aaron is absolutely all charm and wit. They ask him about the shop, about his motivation to be on the show, and extensively about his rivalry with Alexander. He tries to keep the conversation focused on himself and on Burr’s Corner. He is doing this for the sake of the store, not because he has something to prove. They film all the stuff that will be edited in at the end of the competition, and it is all a little forced and awkward but overall, Aaron thinks he has done well. Aaron feels good when he comes in to film the actual episode. That mood sours when he finds Alexander Hamilton, already on the set, chatting with his assistant for the episode John Laurens. Aaron refuses to approach him, instead checks his watch and lingers near the door. Of course, Alexander either does not get the message or disregards it all together because he approaches Aaron.

“Nervous?” Hamilton asks, a cocky grin on his face. His hair is pulled up away from his face and slicked down with what Aaron assumes is gel, based on just how shiny it looks.

“Hamilton why don’t you get back to your boyfriend,” Aaron manages to keep his voice even. Alexander frowns.

“John is not my boyfriend Aaron, he’s my friend,” Alexander counters, “don’t be an asshole.” There’s something a little sad in Alexander’s expression, it has replaced his usual defiance. The whole town knows about Alexander’s romantic misadventures, and Laurens is frequently subject of the rumors. Aaron is about to ask when Maria, his assistant for the taping and closest friend (who also happens to hate Alexander), walks in. Her eyes, which are lined in sharp black eyeliner, narrow into slits.

“Maria? Really?” Hamilton looks at Aaron, his eyes widen considerably and his lips are half-parted. “Couldn’t find anyone other than my ex to be here?”

“Ex is too polite of a term,” Maria bites back, her red lips turn into a scowl. “I am here to support my friend, not for you Alex.” Hamilton and Maria hadn’t really dated, but they had spent a summer hooking up after which Alexander acted like a bit of an asshole. The thing was Aaron knows that unlike with a majority of the rest of his friends, he could trust 100% that Maria would side with him over Hamilton every time. Alexander glares at Aaron accusingly, before sighing and heading back to Laurens who watches from across the room.

“I mean I don’t regret sleeping with him but I should have punched him when I had the chance,” Maria notes, her lips turning up in a coy little smile. Aaron chuckles. The Host of the show, a youngish white man with perfect teeth and perfect eyebrows approaches Aaron.

 “Play up the thing where you hate that other guy,” the Host advises, “makes for fun television, and if you really sell it, the producers might push for the two of you to be in the final regardless of your cupcakes.” That makes Aaron kind of uncomfortable, but he grins anyhow. The longer he is on the show, the greater the exposure for Burr’s Corner, and that’s why he is here, not over some silly rivalry with Alexander Hamilton. The Host smiles at him, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and then he moves onto the next contestants. One of them is a tall, gangly brown man who sports a full, tightly coiled fro. His apron is purple and velvety, and Aaron is unsure of how helpful it is in the kitchen but it looks good. The other contestant is a squat, balding man with reddened cheeks in a navy apron. They all hang around until the host, with his perfect teeth, calls them to gather in the center of the soundstage kitchen.

“Okay contestants, we are going to get started. First introduce yourselves,” the Host orders. He looks at Burr who is closest to him.

“Hello everyone,” Aaron gives a small wave, “my name is Aaron and I run Burr’s Corner Cupcake Shop in Key Port, New Jersey. This is Maria, she’s one of my best friends and she is helping me out today.” Maria grins at the competition and then at the host.

The man in the purple apron steps forward. “Thomas, I am the owner of Main Street Cupcakes in Shadwell, Virginia. My assistant is Mr. James Madison.” James Madison is a dark, broad-shouldered man who offers a half-smile, half-grimace. Thomas on the other hand bows deeply, with a little flourish of his hand.

“I –I am John, John Adams,” the man in the navy states, Aaron can see the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, “I co-own United Cakes of America in Bos-Boston, Massachusetts, with my wife Abby.” Abby is a beautiful woman. Her dark hair is pulled back with a navy ribbon that matches her apron, and her smile is easy unlike that of her nervous husband.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton. I am the owner of the best cupcake shop in Key Port, Jersey Pretty Baked Cupcakes and this is my business partner, head chef and best friend John. Though everyone calls him Laurens. Just so you all know, we are here to win because we’ve got something to prove.” Alexander says the last bit staring straight at Aaron. Burr can’t help the nasty look he gives Hamilton. The Host laughs, amused by their antics.

“Okay, great. Let’s introduce our judges. Of course, there’s Candace Nelson, founder of Sprinkles Cupcakes, the world’s first cupcake bakery.” A woman, skinny with honey brown hair emerges from the side of the stage. The cameras follow her moves, she greets the bakers and plants herself at the first seat. “Florian Bellanger, executive French pastry chef and owner of Mad Mac Macarons.” Florian is a small man dressed in an impeccable suit with short-cropped white hair. He does not smile at the bakers and sits beside Candace. “Our guest judge for this episode is General George Washington, renowned military strategist, elected official and political commentator.” Aaron recalls Mr. Washington from some Sunday morning talk show he sometimes watches. The General takes the final seat. “The winning display will be featured at General Washington’s retirement party tonight in New York City. There will be media personalities and politicians from around the country. If that is not prize enough, the winner will also take home ten thousand dollars.” The Host waits another beat. “The first round is all about taste. You must incorporate at least two of the mystery ingredients into your bake. The ingredients included: fresh cherries, brazil nuts, foiled chocolate coins, corn pancakes, sweet potatoes and fig. You have forty-five minutes.”

Immediately the contestants begin moving. Aaron runs over to his station and begins to organize his tools while he tries to think of flavor combinations. Maria hovers close by, waiting for some direction. “Let’s make a chocolate and Brazil nut cake with a cherry filling and a bourbon whipped cream topping,” Aaron proposes. Maria nods and follows him closely while he heads to the mystery ingredient table. Hamilton is there, looking panicked, and holding one of everything in his grasp. Aaron arcs an eyebrow in his direction and Alexander glares.

“Are you finished?” Burr asks, signaling to the arm full of supplies. Hamilton side steps to block Aaron from the table.

“I don’t know, I can’t quite decide on what to make. I think I will make two different batters, two different icings and then figure it out from there,” Hamilton muses. Aaron rolls his eyes.

“Just get out of my way Hamilton,” Aaron growls out. He can feel the proximity of the cameras on them and he knows he is mic’d. Hamilton smirks, always pleased to get a rise out of Aaron. Aaron pushes past Alexander, shoving him a little bit with his shoulder as he reaches for the cherries. Maria glares at Alexander, who has finally decided to return to his station and work on his own cakes. Aaron gathers the rest of his ingredients and they get to make the batter. Aaron and Maria practiced before coming onto the show to ensure that they’d be moving fast enough. Aaron starts to pour ingredients for the batter into the mixer. He has Maria melting the chocolates on low-heat in a double boiler, as he chops the nuts very finely. The berries are sitting in a saucepan with sugar and water. Maria pours the melted chocolate into the mixer and Aaron follows closely with the nuts. He blends and blends for a few minutes and then reaches into it with a spoon. The batter is still a little thick, but it tastes great. The chocolate doesn’t overpower the Brazil nuts, and they’ve managed to mask the artificial flavor.

“This is ready to go in the oven,” Aaron indicates to Maria. She nods, picks up the tray and carries it to the large industrial oven. Aaron sets a timer and turns his attention back to the cherries on the stove.

“Do not throw away your shots contestants, you have twenty minutes,” the Host calls.

“Maria can you stir the filling and thicken it a bit with some flour,” Aaron instructs. Maria moves to take the wooden spoon out of his hand. Aaron makes the bourbon whipped topping, it’s pretty straight forward, heavy cream, sugar and bourbon. He wants to ensure that the recipe is not too boozy. As he is blending the ingredients in the second mixer the timer goes off for the batter. Aaron sees Maria is still working on the filling and so he heads to the oven. He puts on an oven mitt and removes his cupcake trays. Aaron prods one to ensure they are baked full. It springs back nicely. Hamilton has his face pressed up to the glass of his oven, he is muttering at the oven, and glares at Aaron when he notices that Burr is watching. Aaron sighs, pulls his gaze off Alexander and heads back to his work station. He puts the cake in the fridge and begins to load the whipped cream into the icing bag.

“The cherries are cooling,” Maria notes, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Aaron gives her a quick hug.

“Thank you,” Aaron says softly.

“If we win ten grands, you’re taking me on vacation,” Maria grins back. Aaron nods. They chat while they wait a couple of more minutes for the cupcakes to cool. They’re watching the competition. Thomas is creating incredibly detailed decorations out of fondant while James is mixing (and tasting) the icing. The Adams are having a quiet discussion side-by-side near the stovetop, something obfuscated from Aaron’s view.  Laurens is mixing something; his hair is sticking up in different places and he is completely covered in flour. Hamilton has his face still against the glass of the oven, he checks his watch and then the countdown on the wall and sighs deeply, then turns to pull the cupcakes out. Alexander looks deeply unhappy.

“Time to decorate,” Maria reminds Aaron, who pulls his gaze off Hamilton and turns to the fridge to grab their cupcakes. Aaron digs out part of the top of the cupcakes and Maria fills them with the cool cherry filling, then Aaron pipes the whipped topping and adds some finely crushed Brazil nuts. He sets the three best cupcakes on a plate for the judges. 

“All right contestants, please take a step away from your bakes,” the Host calls. Aaron hears Alexander mutter something viciously, but doesn’t turn to look at the man. “John, please present your cupcakes to our judges.” John Adams carries his plate forward.

“We made a sweet potato cake with buttercream icing and crushed up corncake and chocolate shaving toppings” John presents. The judges all take pieces of the cupcakes with their forks. They chew and the soundstage is silent.

“The cake is absolutely horrendous,” Florian states dead-pan in a super severe French accent. “The icing is good and helps a little bit, but the use of the corn and chocolate seems like an afterthought. There is no elegance to this cupcake.” John frowns deeply.

“I have to agree with Florian. The cake is dry and the texture is a bit crumbly,” Candace states. 

“I thought it was okay,” Washington follows up, “you didn’t really incorporate the ingredients at the top which I would have appreciated.” John nods at the criticism, looking fairly dejected, he returns to his station. Aaron feels incredibly nervous after that. He stares at his cupcakes with suspicion.

“Mr. Jefferson” the Host calls. Thomas grins and moves toward the judges with a plate of cupcakes.

“I have baked for you all a chocolate and sweet potato cake with a cherry icing, garnished with crushed brazil nuts, cinnamon sugar and a fondant mallet to symbolize General Washington’s role in the law,” Thomas explains. The cupcakes presented are beautiful and uniform, and Aaron feels the insecurity pooling inside of him. The judges chew and deliberate.

“The cake is phenomenal,” Florian commends, “the chocolate does not overpower the sweet potato and the nuts give the cherry icing an added texture and dimension. The fondant mallet was a good touch, overall very impressive Mr. Jefferson.”

“Forty-five minutes is not a very long time and you delivered a wonderful cupcake,” Candace notes, “the cake was moist, the icing was a little heavy and a little too sweet, but beautiful job.”

Washington has finished the whole cupcake. “Good work son,” he gives Thomas a thumbs-up.

“Mr. Burr,” the Host calls. Aaron makes his way around his station with his cupcakes on their plate. He sets them down in front of Florian, not quite meeting his eyes when he does so.

“I have made for you all a chocolate and Brazil nut cake with a cherry filling and a bourbon whipped cream topping,” Aaron presents. Aaron then has to stand awkwardly while he waits for them to try the cakes. He tries not to fidget too much.

“It’s a good cupcake,” Candace states, she sounds hesitant, “the cherry filling has soaked a little bit in the cake, it needed to be dried out more because it changed the texture. I wish you would have been a little more bold with the flavors, the cherries overpower everything, and there’s no taste of bourbon in the cream.” Aaron nods, schools his face into a placid blank expression.

“It is a nice cupcake, but it is not very exciting,” Florian’s tone sounds even more bored than his usual.

“I liked it,” Washington shrugs, “wish you would have done more with the decorations.” Aaron knows it’s not terrible feedback, and it’s true, he played it safe with his flavors. Maria puts a small hand on his shoulder when he returns to his station.

“Mr. Hamilton” the Host summons. Alexander brings his own cupcakes forward, and Aaron can see that they’re unevenly decorated. Florian arcs and eyebrow at the man once he puts the plate down.

“I have baked fig spice cupcakes with a honey cinnamon buttercream. There are crushed Brazil nuts baked into the batter” Hamilton explains. “The cupcakes took longer to bake than expected and so some of the buttercream has melted off.” Aaron rolls his eyes. The judges eat thoughtfully.

“The appearance of this cupcake is horrendous,” Florian indicates and Alexander visibly deflates, “but the flavor is superb. The spices come through, the fig is not overpowering and the little buttercream I have got really compliments the cake.”

“This cupcake is an unexpected one,” Candace notes, “the texture for me is a little off, and the presentation leaves a lot to be desired, but it is delicious.”

“I do not know if I would serve these for my guests,” Washington indicates, “but I would hide out and eat a few myself.” Hamilton beams at that, he even winks at Aaron while making his way back to the station.

“Our judges will deliberate, please feel free to head into the back with your assistants” the Host instructs. The eight of them head to the green room, and are called to get reactions to the round by the filming staff. John is called first and Abby follows him closely.

“It’s going to be him, right?” Alexander asks, rubbing at a spot on his forehead where there’s a clump of flour.

“Well, it’s not going to be me,” Thomas smirks, and its infuriating and kind of attractive, “the three of you can kill each other for all I care.” Alexander shoots Thomas a dirty look.

“Don’t write me off,” Alexander mutters. Aaron opts for staying silent. With the exception of Thomas, they all got back some pretty harsh critique and therefore, it is still anyone’s game. Aaron feels tense and weary already, and he wonders if he can just take a nap. But Hamilton and Jefferson are glaring at each other so loudly, he knows it will be impossible. He snakes an arm across Maria’s shoulders and leans his head against hers. She automatically repositions her body for ultimate comfort on the shared couch. Aaron is trying to focus on his breath and block out the sounds of Laurens, Jefferson, Madison and Hamilton bickering.

“You doing okay?” Maria asks quietly, and he nods keeping his eyes closed. At some point the Adams return and Thomas and James are called out. Aaron can hear Alexander shit talking Jefferson to the Adams. A few more minutes pass and Thomas returns and Hamilton leaves, and it is the first moment of honest quiet all day until Thomas ruins it.

“You two come from the same town,” Jefferson points out. Aaron opens his eyes, squinting against the fluorescent lighting, he says nothing but he nods. “What are the odds?” Aaron shrugs, not wanting to get into his and Alexander’s shared history. “Must be hard to be around a guy who talks that much.” Aaron wonders if this Thomas character lacks any sense of self-reflection.

“Alexander is non-stop,” Aaron notes, “works harder than anyone I know.” And that much is true, for all of their petty bickering and mutual-destruction, Hamilton does have redeemable traits. Thomas huffs and frowns, probably peeved that Burr doesn’t indulge competition as readily as Alexander does.

“Team Burr,” one of the PAs calls for them. Aaron and Maria both rise and head out of the greenroom. They cross Laurens and Alexander as they follow the PA, and John gives Burr a big smile and winks at Maria. The shot with Aaron is set up.

“We will ask you some questions and record your answers okay?” the PA instructs. Aaron nods. “Any initial reactions to the round?”

“It was a fairly stressful experience but I think I managed my time well,” Aaron responds.

“Are you afraid you’ll be eliminated?”

“There’s of course a chance I might be. My cupcake was good but the flavors needed to be more developed.”

“Worried about any of the other competitors?”

“Of course, Thomas delivered a perfect first cupcake, Alexander has such strong ideas around taste and texture, and the Adams work seamlessly together. It would be wise to be worried about all of them.” Behind the hot lights, he sees the young PA frown.

“Look Aaron, the guy who just came in was funny and a little arrogant. He delivered all the one-liners and clichés, and its obnoxious but it makes for good television. Let some of the personality come through,” the PA instructs. Aaron absolutely loathes being compared to Hamilton, and the cupcake business has definitely put them at odds a lot. He gives the young man an uneasy smile.

“I think I can take this all the way, put Burr’s Corner on the map and finally end the conversation about who runs the best cupcake town in Key Port,” Aaron does his best to channel confidence and ease. The PAs expression only improves a fragment.

“Okay, I’ll go get the rest of the competitors. You can wait out here,” the PA instructs. In a couple of minutes the other three pairs reemerge from the greenroom, and everyone is ushered onto the soundstage kitchen. The host and the judges are all chatting amicably, until a different assistant indicates that they’re ready to start rolling.

“We have four bakers before us, but only three will move onto the second round.” Dramatic pause from the Host. Aaron feels apprehension in his chest. “Unfortunately, Mr. Adams, you don’t have the votes. I am sorry but your time on our show has come to an end.” John nods and shrugs and Abigail puts a calming hand on his elbow as they exit the main stage. “Three remain. The second round is the presentation round. You have seventy-five minutes to create three different cupcakes. You will be judged equal parts for presentation and for flavor, begin.”

Aaron returns to his station with Maria. He hates multitasking in the kitchen to this extent, but knows it’s the only way to do it under a time crunch. “Washington is an American icon, so maybe we can do something around that. I liked the cherry filling and nothing is more classically American as pie, so we can do my cherry pie cupcake. He’s from the South so some Vanilla Maple Whiskey Cupcakes? With some whiskey buttercream? I can create silver scales (of justice) out of fondant to decorate them a little more?” Aaron deliberates.

“You need something really creative and flavorful for your last one Aaron,” Maria reminds him. “What about the chocolate cherry cola cupcakes you made a few weeks ago?” Aaron often creates random cupcakes to feed his friends, usually the recipes range from okay to fairly terrible, but it’s fun even if none of them ever make it to the storefront. He knows it’s a risk but he has to pull out all stops after the last round.

“Let’s do it. Can you start working on the filling for the cherry pie?” Aaron asks, Maria nods and grabs the cutting board, the knife and a bag of cherries. Aaron begins working on the three different batters. The ovens are pre-heating. The cherry-cola will take the longest to cook so he begins there first. He knows that the last time he made these, the cola flavor didn’t come through, so he uses a little more than the recipe calls for. Once he is pleased with that batter, he moves onto the next.

“Maria, can you scoop batter into the tin and put these in the oven?” She brings down the cherry filling to a simmer and begins to work on the chocolate batter, getting even scoops into the tray. Aaron pours a generous amount of whiskey into the vanilla mixture he is now working on. “Is this boozy enough?” He sticks a spoon out to Maria. She tastes it and grins, grabs the bottle from his hand and pours more into the batter and then brings the bottle to her mouth and takes a swig.

“Your turn Burr,” she orders and he complies, grimacing a little as he swallows the warm whiskey. He sets the mixer on the lowest setting and progressively adds more flour until it is an appropriate consistency. The final batter is the cherry pie which begins with a simple yellow cake that Aaron can do with his eyes close. He and Maria work side by side to scoop batter into the trays. She spoons cherry filling into the yellow cake. He instructs her to start working on the icing. He carries both trays fully loaded to the oven. As he is doing so, Alexander bumps into him which rocks the platters and some of the batter comes out.

“Can you watch where you’re going,” Aaron snaps, loudly. He feels eyes and cameras on him. “It was an accident.” Alexander instantly flushes. Burr glares at him and then sets the trays down. Very carefully he pushes batter back into the appropriate holes. He knows at least a third of his cupcakes will be too small, and he exhales loudly in frustration. Aaron puts the pans in the oven and heads back to his station.

“You okay?” Maria asks, as she stirs the cherries.

“Fine,” he grounds out. Aaron needs to focus, there are a lot of elements left to his cakes. He needs to make three different icings, the red licorice filling for the cola cakes, and a glaze. The decorations are a whole other story, he still has to make the fondant for the scales, and the cherries need to be covered in a cherry syrup, and for the cola cupcakes, he wants to make chocolate letters in script that read ‘Washington.’ Aaron works on the filling first because it needs enough time to cool. It is an easy recipe that calls for sugar, water, eggs, cornstarch, salt and five ounces of red licorice. Maria comes over with a spoonful of whipped cream, which is fluffy and thick enough to hold shape and perfect for the cherry pie cupcakes.

“Can you start making the syrup for the cherries?” Aaron asks, she nods and gets moving. They continue their pattern of working and it is going seamlessly. Aaron finishes the second filling and sets it to cool. He moves onto making the whiskey buttercream. Aaron can feel someone watching him and when he looks up, he finds an incredibly nervous looking Hamilton. Hamilton’s hands are balled up in his apron.

“Your first set of cupcakes are done I think,” Hamilton indicates, no quite meeting Aaron’s eyes, “I went to put mine in the oven and it just seems like they’re done.” And Aaron’s first instinct is to check his timer, which he realizes he forgot to set. He rushes over to the oven to find that Alexander was right, the cola cupcakes are cooked maybe a moment longer than he’d prefer. He removes them from the oven immediately and sets them on the cooling rack. Aaron checks up on the other batters and approximates how much time they need, and sets the timer. Aaron returns to his station but Alexander is already back at work at his own, and approaching him would be a complete distraction for them both.

“History has its eyes on the three of you, thirty minutes left in the second round,” the Host announces. Aaron knows he is good on time, a little frazzled after the thing with the timer, but enough time to wrap this round away. Maria sets the glazed cherries to cool in the freezer and goes to retrieve the rest of the baking cupcakes. Aaron whips together the marshmallow frosting, and moves onto developing a fondant from scratch. Maria makes a cherry cola glaze, and then the whiskey glaze and while Aaron isn’t one for bouts of confidence, he begins to feel good about the show altogether. He is cutting out fondant scales when the Host states that there are ten minutes to go. Maria goes to retrieve the cupcakes, and she begins inserting the licorice filling in the cola ones. Once Aaron is done with the fondant, he turns his attention to creating uniform ‘Washington’ decorations in melted white chocolate. There are still six minutes on the clock when he finishes, which gives them enough time to pipe the icing on each cake, and then put on the decorations. He plates the cupcakes with a minute left, and takes the final seconds to drizzle them in the appropriate glaze.

“Contestants, times up. Take a step back,” the Host commands. Aaron wipes his hands on his apron and then turns to hug Maria in relief. There are an infinite number of changes he wishes he could make to the cake, but that’s typically how he feels after every bake.

“Mr. Burr, please bring your cupcakes up.” Aaron carries two plates forward and Maria trails with the third. They set one in front of each of the judges.

“Our theme was the all-American since General Washington has been such a prominent member of American politics, he has become a bit of an emblem of our country. The first cupcake is a cherry pie cupcake, with a cherry pie filling, a whipped cream topping and a glazed cherry on top. The second cupcake is Jack Daniels Honey Whiskey cupcake to recall his Southern roots, and its decorated with fondant scales of justice. The final cupcake on your plate is my cherry cola chocolate cupcake, it’s got a licorice filling and a marshmallow icing, the ‘Washington’ is made out of milk chocolate,” Aaron presents. There are a few quiet minutes while the judges taste the each of the cupcakes.

“Sometimes in this job, people make me eat some things that make me hate my job,” Florian states and Aaron feels his heart drop. The French man smiles though, “these cupcakes make me forget those times. The Whiskey cupcake is wonderful, the whiskey comes through but it does not overpower. The cola cupcake was a risky choice, and it paid off. I only wish you would have gone a bit further with the cherry pie cupcake, but technically perfect.” Aaron exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I love when contestants bring me something I have never had,” Candace comments, “when you talked about the cherry cola cupcake it sounds like something that has too much going on, but when I tried it, the flavors blended seamlessly.”

“This is a very good cupcake,” Washington notes, the cherry pie cupcake in hand. “I appreciate that the decorations are specific to the occasion.” Aaron thanks them and returns to his station where Maria gives him another large hug.

“Good job,” she whispers to him, pretty loudly.

“Mr. Jefferson,” the Host beckons. Thomas carries a single plate while Madison follows behind him with two.

“The first cupcake on your plate is my red, white and blue. It is made of three different batters and topped with a fresh buttercream frosting and chopped strawberries and whole blue berries. The second is an apple crumble cupcake, it is a vanilla cake filled with caramelized apples and topped with a whipped cream and covered in a crumble crust. The last cupcake is an ode to Virginia, the cake is flavored with Virginia wine and the glaze is a wine reduction, and the icing is made from maple syrup that was locally sourced,” Thomas explains. The judges ponder the cakes.

“I am unimpressed,” Florian states very directly, “they’re beautiful cupcakes but the flavors are all off. One of the difficulties of these rainbow cakes are that the batters do not cook evenly, unfortunately, that is a problem for me. The apple crumble cupcake is yummy, but I miss thee flavor in the Virginian cupcake. The wine does not come through.” Aaron cannot help but smile in relief. Maria squeezes his hand.

“You set the bar really high with your first round Thomas,” Candace notes, “unfortunately your apples made the rest of the cake overly moist, and the wine cupcake was very flat in flavor.”

“The red, white and blue cake I thought was very delicious and felt very fresh and summery,” Washington indicates, “and I appreciate that you tried to incorporate things from our home state.” Thomas gives a single sharp nod, and then turns back to his station. Jefferson shoots Burr a dirty look as he passes by.

“Mr. Hamilton.” Alexander and John bring the cupcakes forward and set them at the table. Alexander’s cupcakes aren’t as uniform in presentation as Thomas’ had been and Aaron knows that he often struggles with decorations.

“We wanted our cupcakes to be appropriate and sophisticated but also fun. All of the recipes have a Caribbean twist. The first cupcake is a piña colada cupcake with a rum buttercream and a dried pineapple flower as garnish, the kind of thing that will make you feel like you’re on a beach vacation. The second is a mango vanilla cupcake topped with whipped cream and five gold stars to honor your military career. The final one is a dulce de leche cupcake, the frosting has crushed toffee bits and your campaign logo made of fondant,” Alexander clarifies.

“These are very interesting,” Florian pauses, holding up the mango cupcake as if something were to emerge from it, “very different flavors and all very good. Unfortunately, your presentation is quite sloppy. Your stars in this one are very uneven, it seems like a child cut them.” Aaron can see the blush rise to Alexander’s face.

“These are very fun, though the rum buttercream might be a little too much fun,” Candace laughs, “you really need to clean up the looks of these cupcakes. They’re uneven, different sizes even, and that won’t do if you move onto the final round.”

“These are very good. The mango cupcake especially is delicious,” George Washington has consumed the entirety of Alexander’s cupcakes, “good job son.”

“Okay contestants, please give our judges a moment to deliberate,” the Host says. Aaron is pulled aside and does the post-round interview first. He feels more confident and that emboldens him. He cracks a few jokes with the PA, makes a not so subtle comment concerning Alexander and by the end of that, he feels at ease. When he heads to the greenroom, he passes Jefferson who looks utterly displeased with him. Aaron walks into the room, and he thinks its empty until he hears a breath hitch. He walks around and finds Alexander curled up on the floor between the couch and the black coffee table.

“Hamilton,” the question is in his voice. The other man looks up at him, his eyes are shiny and his hair in disarray.

“Go away,” Alexander responds with a scowl.

“Are you okay?” Aaron tries not to react to the other’s unpleasantness.

“I am fine Burr.” He does not sound fine. Aaron settles on the floor next to Alexander’s head. He is silent and moves a hand to scratch Alexander’s scalp. Aaron knows that feeling soothes him when he gets overwhelmed. The panic in Alexander shifts to confusion.

“What are you doing?” Hamilton manages to sound inordinately suspicious. Aaron takes a minute to savor the silence. 

“You saved my ass out there by reminding me about the cupcakes in the oven,” Aaron notes, “I just want us to be even.” This makes Alexander instantly scramble away from Burr’s fingers.

“I don’t want your charity Burr,” Hamilton growls out. “I just didn’t want to win because you burnt your cakes, don’t overthink it.” Aaron almost finds the edge in Hamilton’s tone endearing.

“And I don’t want to win because my competition had a panic attack Alexander,” Aaron’s voice is soft and rich, and Hamiltoon turns his face and meets Aaron’s gaze head on. Burr knows that Hamilton is studying his features. They look at each other for a few quiet moments.

“You’re a better baker than me,” Alexander admits, so quietly it is almost imperceptible. “You are so cautious in your bakes, but you’re disciplined and strategic and good. You went and made something strange and the judges were so impressed. You need to do that more often, go out of your comfort zone.” Aaron thinks of their past battles and how long he has wanted to hear this from the other man, and how dissatisfying it feels at the moment.

“Come on Hamilton, there’s a whole round for you to best me,” Aaron teases with a smile.

“After this round, I don’t know if I will make it to the final round,” Alexander admits a little crestfallen, “and if I don’t, I expect you to kick Thomas’ ass.” This makes Aaron laugh, and Hamilton is still watching him.

“You don’t need to win today, I won’t tell anyone about this,” Aaron assures. He might be always annoyed with Alexander but he has no desire to embarrass him, even in this context.

“I mean the ten-thousand-dollars could have gone a long way,” Hamilton sighs, he undoes the pony tail that holds his hair and then redoes it, tugging sharply at the ends. “The shop isn’t doing well Aaron, that’s partly why I was so upset about the Eliza thing. We keep competing for business and its hurting my profits, and I don’t have anything else to fall back on. The store is the only thing I have.” Aaron has a moment to feel ashamed. He has always known that Hamilton comes from nothing, knows that he migrated from the Caribbean when he was very young, worked lots of odd jobs and long bakery hours to save up enough to open Pretty Baked. And Aaron absolutely loves Burr’s Corner and works incredibly hard every day, but the Burr’s have generational wealth and he bakes because he loves to, not because he needs to.

“Alexander, you know we can” Aaron is cut off by the opening door.

“Hamilton,” a PA calls and Hamilton tears his eyes off Burr and rises. Hamilton follows the assistant out of the room and Aaron has a few moments of quiet to think. He himself has no idea how he was going to finish that sentence, and he is unsure if he wants to take any responsibilities for commitments spurred on by this ridiculous context. But Aaron knows that somewhere, things have shifted for him and Hamilton. Maria and John walk into the room, smelling of cigarettes and laughing together. She questions his position on the floor with a look, but continues her conversation with John. Jefferson and Madison walk in shortly after and Thomas is notably upset. James presses a soft kiss to Thomas’ temple and mutters something soothing that is too low for Aaron to pick up on. Aaron is still turning over every second of his and Alexander’s exchange when they all get summoned back out to the soundstage. As they had after the first round, the three primary contestants line up shoulder to shoulder before the judges.

“Two rounds down, one to go, but before we move onto the display round, one of you has got to leave our show.” Dramatic pause, throughout which Aaron thinks of all the ways he can keep his face blank. “One of you presented unpresentable cupcakes, the other inedible ones. Unfortunately, Mr. Jefferson, you failed to deliver on your campaign promises and therefore our judges decided it had to be you to go.” Thomas sighs loudly, the arrogance leaving his stature for a second. The moment passes and Thomas rolls back his shoulders and sticks his chin out a little defiantly as he heads for the side door. Aaron turns to look at Alexander, and when he does so, he finds the other man throwing his skinny arms around him.

“Really thought that was the end,” Alexander mutters, the relief flooding his voice. Aaron can only assume the judges are staring in confusion, and he can see Maria’s twisted expression. Alexander smells like cinnamon and rum and flour. Hamilton pulls away a moment later and literally picks up John and twirls him at their station.

“Okay contestants, now the only thing in the way of ten-thousand-dollars and NYC’s most exclusive party is each other. For the final round, you have two hours to make a thousand cupcakes with the help of four baking assistants. You also have to design a display for these to be presented at the party tonight. You have each been assigned a carpenter. Begin,” the Host states. The carpenters emerge and the one who wears the plaids and has the arm tattoos is assigned to Team Burr.

“Washington is known for being fair and balanced, always upholding the value of the law regardless of political context. I am thinking fully functioning scales of justice,” Aaron explains, hastily drawing a doodle for the carpenter. “The scales should be silver but not too shiny, and large, enough to hold a hundred cupcakes each. The table could be draped in a navy fabric.” The man nods and takes Aaron’s terrible doodle with him.

“Maria, I think I am swapping out the cherry pie cupcake” Aaron explains, and Maria’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline.

“Aaron, the feedback was good. That’s ridiculous, why?” Maria asks.

“I just want to try something else,” Aaron admits.

“Aaron, try something else at home, that cherry cupcake is great, perfect,” she sounds a little frustrated, “you never take any risks, and have decided now is the appropriate moment?!” Aaron breathes out through his mouth.

“Maria, I really need to do something else. Trust me on this please,” Aaron says, dropping his voice, “even if we lose, we can go on vacation.” Maria brightens up a little at the prospect.

“It’s your name on the line,” she counters, “what are you thinking?”

“A New York cheesecake cupcake,” Aaron presents, “with a vanilla bean cream cheese frosting and a graham cracker crust at the bottom.”

“Let’s do it,” Maria grins. They work as methodically as they did in the second round, preparing batters. The new assistants are incredibly helpful when it comes to scooping batter into trays and carrying things between the ovens. Aaron makes the icing in large batches and Maria is in charge of all the glazes and fillings for their cakes. They work pretty quietly for a majority of the first hour and a half, cranking out hundreds of cupcakes to cool. At some point during the second hour, the carpenter brings in his display table which is massive and more beautiful than he could describe. It looks simple and elegant and refined. Alexander’s is carried in a few moments later. It is multiple staggered tiers in different colors: red, white and dark blue. The bottom part reads ‘Washington’ in elegant script and its backlit with a warm light. It is shockingly understated and elegant.

“It looks really good,” Aaron mentions to Maria.

“Yours is better,” she responds automatically before she continues to move.

“Will your cupcakes be enough to leave us satisfied? Half an hour,” the Host announces. Aaron retrieves trays of cupcakes from the cooling rack. He hands each assistant a different set and they begin decorating them. Everything is going smoothly and he is happy with the process. They decorate and he works on loading them onto the display, putting the nicest ones in the bottom and toward the front. There are only a few minutes left on the clock when the final tray of cupcakes is decorated and hundred remain without placement.

“Okay everyone, we really have to pick up the pace,” Aaron instructs, “let’s get all of those cupcakes on the display.” The assistants, Aaron and Maria each carry at least four cupcakes in each hand and they place and place and place and place. The time winds down and there are only seconds to spare when Aaron places the final cupcake.

“Time! Contestants please take a step away from your displays,” the Host announces. Aaron looks at the massive thousand-count presentation and feels pretty proud. He had not come on the show expecting to come so far, and he is happy with how well things turned out. Alexander’s has also done a phenomenal job.

“Alexander, tell us about your display please,” the Host requests.

“My display is simple and elegant, it incorporates the colors of the flag and since it is a party to celebrate General Washington, I had his name scripted on the bottom. I thought that since my cupcakes are so colorful and flavorful, they needed something very clean to pull them all together,” Alexander details, “I also took the notes on the flavors and cut back a little bit of the booze on the rum buttercream.”

“Mr. Burr,” the Host proceeds. Aaron takes a full step forward.

“You are known to the public for being very judicious, fair and even handed. I thought the scales would be a nice commemorative piece,” Aaron supplements. “I also replaced the cherry pie cupcake with a New York cheesecake cupcake because of the problems with the filling.”

“Thank you both very much, please give our judges a moment to deliberate.” Aaron, Alexander, John and Maria all head off the soundstage.

“I think I need another cigarette after that round,” John comments.

“Yes, please,” Maria responds. She and John part with Alexander and Aaron to find an exit while the two of them return to the greenroom. Aaron walks into the room and plops down on the soft couch. He might sleep forever once this is over. Alexander sits on the other side of the room. They don’t talk and Aaron opts to watch the minute hand move. It is seven whole minutes later when Maria and John walk into the silent room in the middle of a laugh. Aaron can’t help but be glad that the two of them get along. They chat while Aaron and Alexander brood until the PA comes to retrieve them from the greenroom. The four follow in silence onto the center stage.

“As you both know, unfortunately only one baker can win today’s competition,” the Host says, “and while you both blew us all away with your cupcakes, only one of you can take home the ten-thousand-dollar prize.” He looks at Alexander for a beat, who fidgets with his apron, and then at Aaron. “Congratulations,” dramatic pause for emphasis, “Mr. Hamilton.” Alexander exhales so loudly that Aaron can feel it. Aaron finds that he is not even upset by the loss, and before he can stop himself, he turns and gives Hamilton a full hug.

“Congratulations Alexander,” Aaron breathes out. He doesn’t know when he transitioned to ‘Alexander’ but he likes the way the name fits in his mouth. Much more familial than the cold ‘Hamilton’ he has resorted to. He finds that he is earnestly happy for the other man. He pulls away and makes his way back to Maria, who is wearing a smirk and has one expert eyebrow arched at him. They walk side by side off the stage.

“You and Hamilton,” Maria muses out loud.

“What?” Aaron manages to sound incredulous.

“You aren’t upset. Seems like the two of you are friends now,” she points out, “how many hugs have you exchanged today? How long has this been going on?”

“There is nothing going on Maria,” Aaron insists, but feels heat rise in him.

“You swapped out the cherry pie recipe, evened the playing field,” she notes, her voice rising as if she’s discovered a secret. “You would have won with the cherry pie.”

“This is ridiculous,” Aaron argues back, “we just got caught up in the emotions of the show. He will go back to hating me when we get back to Key Port.” Aaron and Maria are crossing the parking lot to Aaron’s car when he hears a yell. 

“Aaron, hold on,” Alexander screams from the side door to the recording building. Maria looks at Aaron accusingly and Aaron can’t help but blush. Hamilton half jogs over, his hair in disarray and his face a little flush.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for …,“ Alexander waves his hands in the air, “and I know the point originally was to beat you but I’m sorry we couldn’t both win. You are brilliant in the kitchen, and I will try not to brag too much.” The Hamilton-grin that emerges is earnest and wonderful.

“There’s no need to thank me,” Aaron replies, “and brag away, you’ve earned it.” Aaron doesn’t know why he lingers, why he doesn’t just turn around and get into his car, but Alexander is staring down at his shoes and is still wearing that silly Pretty Baked apron. Alexander’s gaze flickers onto Aaron’s face for just a second.

“Aaron, will you come to dinner with me? Tonight?” Alexander poses, his hands buried deep in the pockets of the apron. His face is dusted in a light blush. Aaron is confused.

“Don’t you have to go to Washington’s retirement party?” Aaron questions.

“The cupcakes have to be there, and John is going to hand out business cards,” Alexander explains, his smile faltering a bit. “If you don’t want to come to dinner, you can just say no, I won’t take it too personal.”

“Dinner?” Aaron repeats slowly.

“Yes dinner, I have ten-thousand-dollars and we haven’t had food all day,” Alexander reacts.

“But don’t you need that money for your bakery?”

“Oh my god Aaron, dinner is not going to set me back thousands of dollars. Look, either come to dinner with me or don’t but please stop second guessing my intentions,” Alexander states.

“Fine,” Aaron answers.

“To dinner or to the intentions?” It is Hamilton’s turn to look confused, he scrunches up his nose.

“Dinner,” Aaron responds, “I’ll go to dinner with you.” Hamilton gifts him with a ten-thousand-watt smile, its big and toothy and makes Alexander seem younger. “Let me just let Maria know what’s going on.” Aaron turns to find the woman watching intently, a big smile on her very red lips. She opens her mouth to crack a joke, and Aaron cuts her off. “Don’t say a thing,” he mutters, “take my keys, Alexander will drive me home.” Maria doesn’t say anything but smirks in a way that speaks louder than words could.

Dinner is as awkward as can be imagined. It is difficult for Aaron to wrap his head around the idea of not despising absolutely everything about Alexander. And Alexander is surprisingly charming, funny and intelligent now that they aren’t fruitlessly attempting to destroy one another. They’re sitting in a kind of crowded Dominican spot in Washington Heights where the menu is in Spanish and Alexander has a blast ordering on Aaron's behalf and chatting with the locals.

“Why did you do it?” Alexander asks as soon as the waiter drops off their food, half an accusation in his tone. “Why did you switch out the cherry pie for a different flavor?” Aaron wants to laugh but the seriousness in Alexander’s expression keeps him from doing so.

“You told me I needed to take risks, have some fun,” Aaron counters.  Alexander spends another beat studying Aaron.

“So you didn’t do it so I would win,” Hamilton leans across the table a little bit, the skepticism in his impression.

“Would it make you feel better if I said no?” Aaron contemplates this when he asks it. Which answer would be satisfying to him. He doesn’t really know.

“That’s not an answer,” Alexander argues back. Aaron picks at his platanos maduros, chewing before continuing.

“I mean I didn’t do it with the intention of losing,” Aaron explains, “I just also stopped wanting to win. I know it means more to you than it did to me, so I decided to have some fun instead. You needed the money, you needed the exposure, but I didn’t lose for you. I am just not mad that I lost.”

“Fine, I’ll accept that explanation for now,” Hamilton says. Aaron rolls his eyes.

“Did you bring me all the way out here to debate the merits of your win?” Aaron speculates. Alexander is mid-chew, and therefore Aaron has to wait for a response.

“A little bit,” Hamilton concedes, “just think it weird you threw caution to the wind like that over bad advice I gave you. And after that second round, I really thought you were set to win, and after I won, you hugged me.”

“You did it first, after Jefferson got eliminated.”

“That’s true,” Alexander runs a hand to scratch the back of his head, “but you know me, I am prone to emotional outbursts. And mostly, I was glad to see that tall asshole go. If he would have won the show I would have been so pissed. Who the fuck owns velvet aprons? Like aprons are meant to be stain resistant, anything that gets on it has to be rinsed out immediately. No one has time for that.”

“Do you always have such initial strong reactions about people?” Aaron questions, “like you knew Jefferson for fifteen whole minutes and have now decided you hate him too?” Alexander sets his fork down.

“I need a new nemesis now, don’t I? Since, we are having dinner like normal people.” Alexander smiles, and it is illuminated pink by the neon sign at the window. His brown eyes are warm, and Aaron feels happy to here.

“You weren’t my nemesis,” Aaron states evenly. Alexander rolls his eyes but his whole expression is soft and fond.

“We threw cupcakes at each other at an event,” Hamilton lists, “you brought my former-hookup to the show, you yelled at me on national television. We succeeded in making even our friends sick of us with all of the competition, I think that warrants nemesis or at least mortal enemies.”

“But you also brought your ex to the show,” Aaron points out. “And I am sorry about the snapping, the pressure got to me and that was unfair to you. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Apology accepted. And with the whole John thing is not the same. It just wasn’t working, co-owning the bakery and like sleeping together, especially since the last months have been so shitty financially. There was a lot of stress on us both and we just couldn’t do both anymore and the bakery has always been more important to us,” Alexander talk so openly about everything, it always surprises Aaron. “And we are still really good friends, and being able to get ahead on a few months of rent will be good for us I think but we are both in pretty different places, better to stay as friends and business partners. Also, I am not actually mad at you over Maria. She values you a lot, and I know I didn’t really treat her right and you were there for her and I am glad she has someone that looks out for her.” The smile Alexander wears now is smaller but no less fond.

“It’s fine – I mean, it obviously wasn’t fine then but it’s fine now. Maria knew whatever you two were doing would go up in flames eventually,” Aaron provides. Alexander at least has as much sense to look embarrassed.

“I don’t have the best track record, do I?” Alexander fiddles with the fork in his hand, stabbing at the chicken on his plate.

“You don’t,” Aaron replies, taking a bite out of his pernil. Alexander laughs.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Hamilton asks, his brown eyes focused again. Aaron ducks his head.

“Nope,” Burr speaks to his plate.

“Oh come on, you know my entire dating history,” Alexander pushes, “share with the class.”

“I know your entire dating history because you make yourself to talk of the town,” Aaron notes, his tone is still light though, “and I am not seeing anyone. The last person I dated, her name is Theodosia, and I really loved her but this was right after culinary school and I was just opening the store, I was consumed with work and she had a husband.” Alexander’s eyebrows climb significantly, and Aaron feels something akin to shame. His discomfort must show because instantly Alexander opens his mouth.

“I mean who am I to judge you? Human disaster Alexander Hamilton,” he supplies.

“Well after Theo, I have been more cautious to get involved with other people. I mean I still go out on dates and things, but no one serious for now.”

The rest of their meal is shared in silence, but it isn’t tense or strained or awkward. On the other hand, it’s quite nice. Alexander eats with unique enthusiasm, and makes all sort of noises every time he is particularly pleased with a bite. Aaron spends more time focusing on the other man than he does on his food. For dessert, they share a tres leches and its better than anything Aaron has ever had, and anything he has ever made. Alexander looks particularly pleased by that success. They bicker a bit about who is paying but Alexander wins by pointing out that Aaron has made him ten-thousand-dollars richer. The drive is on the long side, an hour on the I-95 but Aaron is full and a little sleepy and overall pretty content. The radio plays salsa music and Alexander hums to his favorites and drums the beat on the steering wheel. At some point, after crossing the George Washington, Aaron is fast asleep, softly snoring in the passenger seat. When they arrive to Key Port, Alexander shakes the other man. It takes Aaron a second to reorient himself.

“Hey, sorry to wake you,” Alexander’s voice is so soft, “but I don’t actually know where you live.” Aaron straightens up a little and rubs at his eyes.

“Just take a left at the second light on Main,” Aaron instructs, his voice heavy with sleep, “then at the stop you can take a right and then another right.” Alexander does as he is instructed, until he pulls up in front of a pre-war apartment building. Aaron straightens out a little bit, an anxiety, that hadn’t really come up all evening, settling in a bit. Burr realizes that he actually doesn’t want this to end. Alexander pulls up to the side of the road, and then turns to look at Aaron.

“This was fun,” Hamilton states, his hand coming up to that spot on his neck that he likes to scratch.

“It was,” Aaron agrees. There is another beat of silence.

“Can we do this again?” Alexander is illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights. Aaron nods in response. “Okay, cool.” Hamilton looks at the apartment building, and then back at Aaron in his passenger seat. Aaron doesn’t know why he hasn’t moved and said goodbye yet.

“Thank you for dinner,” Burr states, and it’s quiet but feels a little too loud for the silence in the car. Alexander flushes a little bit.

“It was my pleasure.”

“You’re better company than you make yourself out to be Alexander.”

“There it is, ‘Alexander’ again.”

“I mean, would you prefer if I call you Hamilton?”

“No, it’s nice when you call me that. Feels less like the whole rivals thing.”

“Alexander,” Aaron tests the weight of the name in his mouth. Alexander watches him with a tilted head, his expression unusually blank.

“Aaron Burr,” and Aaron doesn’t know why or when or how but he feels the pressure of the seatbelt across his chest before he processes that he has moved forward quite a bit. He puts a hand on Alexander’s scruffy jaw, and presses a soft, firm kiss to the other man’s lips. Aaron knows that were he any lighter, his whole skin would be red because he feels on fire, and the kiss only lasts for a second because then Aaron is unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door.

“Congrats again Alexander,” he yells, before he shuts the door behind him and makes his way to the door of his apartment building. While keying in, he takes a moment to turn around and look at Alexander who is staring straight at Burr, a hand pressed to his lips and his eyebrows knotted in confusion. Aaron gives a small wave, a smile and heads inside. He practically runs up the multiple flights of stairs to his apartment. He peeks through the window blinds and sees that Alexander’s car is still parked in front of the building, and he watches until a few minutes later, the car pulls away. Aaron doesn’t know why he did it, why he kissed Alexander Hamilton, except that in that moment he really wanted to.

Aaron opens the front door to his apartment and is greeted by Alexander, who is still wearing his Pretty Baked apron, and who holds out a bottle of red wine. Aaron takes the bottle and then kisses Alexander softly. This easiness between them is not a feeling he has gotten used to. The popcorn sits in a massive bowl on the coffee table, and Aaron plops down onto his favorite end of the couch. Alexander kicks off his shoes and automatically curls up at Aaron's side, extending his legs out and resting his head on Aaron’s chest. Aaron finds the food channel, and there are still a few minutes left to the cooking show that is currently on.

“Do we have to watch it?” Alexander whines.

“Yes, and the Schuylers, Maria, John, Herc and Lafayette are coming over after the episode is done,” Aaron reminds Alexander. This only makes Alexander groan louder. “This was the only compromise I could make, Angelica wanted to watch the episode with us.”

“God, how will we explain this to our kids?” Alexander mutters against Aaron’s chest. And Aaron thinks he should be nervous or something because they haven’t been dating for very long and he doesn’t know if he is there yet, but he likes that Alexander has already dreamed up these futures with him. 

“How about 'your dads hated each other because they both decided to open cupcake stores in a town of seven thousand people,” Aaron smiles, “they went on this ridiculous show to settle their differences, and now here we are.' Does that sound right?”

“Yup, here we are,” Alexander leans up and presses a kiss to Aaron’s jaw and Aaron wiggles a little to get closer to the man.

“In just a few moments, four bakers will enter a fight for cupcake supremacy,” the Host with the perfect teeth states, and it cuts to a shot of Aaron snapping at Alexander, and then a cut of Jefferson looking flustered, and one of Alexander running through the kitchen. “This is Cupcake Wars.”