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Phillip Schuyler-Hamilton was a problem.
And Aaron Burr was sick of it.
The boy appeared to be trying as hard as possible to be the most difficult five year old in history, and it, according to Burr, was working.
Thus far he had disrupted the class with an idiotic and irrelevant question an average of fifteen times a week (Burr was keeping track, of course he was keeping track), loudly insulted other students, and, on several occasions, Burr himself included, kicked and bitten all present at least once, and all in all made himself a downright nuisance.
In all his years as a kindergarten teacher, Aaron Burr had never had to deal with such a big (yet small) problem.
So, after he had (“accidentally!!”) broken George Eacker’s arm when he “accidentally” pushed him off the top of the play structure, Burr did what any exasperated and annoyed teacher would do.
He called a parent-teacher conference.
xXx
He had not been expecting the mother of his resident disaster to be so… breathtaking.
Her silky black hair nearly reached her waist, and her kind brown eyes twinkled with some indescribable emotion, her pink lips upturned in a patient smile.
A smile that nearly knocked him off his feet, that made his heart stop a few beats as she directed it at him, shaking his head and trying to remember how to breathe.
Clearing his throat, he took a seat across from her at his small desk (their knees brushing in a very distracting way he tried very hard to ignore) and rustled some papers to look busy.
“I’m sure you know why you've been called here.” He made an attempt to look stern, as if he was more concerned for her child's future than the beautiful way her hair caught the light.
His inner voice whispered that she might be single.
He told his inner voice to shut up.
“I'm afraid not,” she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion (still smiling, what was she so happy about?) “what has Phillip done now?”
The question was accompanied by a light laugh, which sent shivers down Burr’s spine. He snapped back to attention, looking anywhere but her lips, trying to think of the answer which had been so clear to him minutes before.
“Well, your son has been a bit… problematic…” he tried, fiddling with a pencil, still avoiding her gaze.
“You’ll have to be more specific Mr. Burr.” She smiled again, still a ghost of a laugh accompanying her words.
“Well, er, to put it rather frankly, Mrs. Hamilton, your child is a disgrace to the school.” Burr regretted it immediately after the words left his mouth, looking up startled, an apology at the ready, berating himself for his absolute stupidity.
Usually he was able to form coherent sentences, but something about this women seemed to be affecting his brain, as he fumbled his way through an apologetic mess.
“Oh, no, um. Not to say that the school is, per say, disgraced, er… Mrs. Hamilton, sorry… No! Not like-” he stammered, cut off by a peal of laughter from Phillip’s mother, a beautiful sort of laughter that made him want to join her, and echoed almost like a lullaby in his ears after she stopped, to compose herself.
“Please, call me Eliza, or, if you must, Ms. Schuyler.” The emphasis put on Ms. sent a quick jolt of hope through Burr, before he brushed it away, meeting her gaze and smiling back.
“Eliza…” the name rolled of his tongue, as if it belonged there. Just saying it, and seeing her grinning across the desk, brown eyes capturing his in a warm glow, sent Aaron back into the stage of mild heart spasms.
“And you may call me Aaron.” He held her gaze for perhaps a bit longer than necessary before dropping his eyes and clearing his throat.
“In all seriousness, your son broke someone's arm today.” Eliza frowned thoughtfully, eyes clouding over momentarily.
“He must get this from his father.” She sighed, brushing back a wayward strand of hair.
Burr resisted the urge to reach across and tuck it behind her ear for her, feeling that may not be at all appropriate considering the circumstances.
“He’s not often around, we're divorced,” Eliza explained, pausing as if waiting for something before continuing, “but whenever he comes over it seems to rub off a bit too much on Phillip. I'm terribly sorry, I'll have a conversation with him about it later.”
Aaron nodded in agreement (he wasn't sure who ‘him’ was or the topic of said conversation, but he nodded anyway, smiling, probably like an idiot).
The conference rambled on, branching to other subjects, hobbies (Eliza liked gardening and baking), and interests (she had always wanted to visit the Bahamas, but the costs seemed a little extravagant, so away with that), and soon they were chatting like long-time friends (Aaron mentally kicked himself for envisioning more) until the late hours became apparent and Eliza looked up at the clock with a start.
“I'd better head home, the babysitter leaves at 10:00” she said, standing up.
“Yes, yes, and um, before you go…” Burr stammered, trying to make his words obey him.
“Yes?” Eliza peered up at him through dark lashes, looking, dare he say, hopeful.
“Well, perhaps if you're free this Saturday…”
“Yes?”
“You might like to possibly havecoffeeorsomethingtogether?” He rushed the rest out, averting his eyes from her, and his inevitable rejection.
“You mean, like a date?” She asked, and he couldn't place the emotion under her words as she beamed at him.
“Ye-Yes, if you wanted it to be.” His face flushed. God, he would never be able to look her in the face again.
“I'd love that Aaron” and as he met her gaze it seemed to him like she had all the stars in the sky shining out at him from her eyes, as she grinned brightly, gathering her purse.
“S-sure, ok, see you then!” He smiled in what he hoped was a charming and not completely foolish way, and waved as she stepped out of the classroom.
Then he promptly sat in his chair and stared at the ceiling in disbelief for like twelve minutes.
xXx
The next day he was filled with a rush of joy, and all the colors seemed that much brighter as he practically flew through the day.
He didn't scold Phillip when he tripped Martha Jefferson, or asked him why his vest was the color of the world’s ugliest snail, and barely batted an eye as Phillip and George Eacker got in a screaming match about who's dad was better in the middle of the alphabet.
He even granted the child a gold star (practically a kindergarten Medal of Honor) when the five year old barely disrupted anyone at nap time, earning many confused looks.
It didn't matter. He was practically on top of the world today.
xXx
No one asked Phillip if he was ok with this.
First Mr. Burr had ignored his shenanigans, ones that would usually end with a stern lecture or threats to call the principal, and instead had given him a shining gold star on the front of his shirt, a level of respect Phillip was sure he deserved, but he wasn't sure why his teacher had chosen to give to him.
Now his mother was acting weird, humming and fussing, spending what felt like hours in the mirror.
She had even let him have candy for breakfast (which he wasn't complaining about, but it was weird).
And now, as he confronted her about her suspicious, very un-Mom-like behavior, what did she do?
Casually brush off the question saying she had a ‘date’ with Mr.Burr!
Phillip was five, but he wasn't stupid, he knew what grown ups did on dates in movies.
They held hands and kissed and acted like complete stupid heads.
And Phillip was not about to let his mom hold hands with Mr. Burr, of all people!
His poor, misguided mother laughed off his warnings about the teacher, patting him on the head and continuing to do chores, leaving a very puzzled and upset five year old sitting on the washing machine.
Phillip was not ok with this.
But of course, no one had bothered to ask his permission to let this happen.
So it was time to take matters into his own, small, hands.
Phillip had a plan.