Chapter Text
If there was one thing to make the day of one John Laurens just a little bit better, it was the sight of his two friends waiting for him outside the auditorium as he walked out of class. Introduction to Comparative Literature may be the dullest college freshman class to ever have been dreamt up in some long forgotten nightmare, but at least he could rely on some things to brighten his mood.
"Laf! Herc! You two finally dragged yourselves out of bed for afternoon classes?"
"Thought we'd better intervene before you slit Jefferson's throat with a ruler for something to do." Hercules smirked, and Lafayette guffawed at the remark.
John swung his hands up in a mock surrender. "Okay, you got me!" He said easily. "I was planning multiple methods of murdering a grade-A asshole, but can you blame me?"
Lafayette slung an arm around John's shoulders as they started to walk. "Mon ami, we are all behind you on your quest to crucify the imbécile . His time will come, I promise. He'll meet a bigger idiot than him someday."
John grinned. At least he had some friends on this miserable planet. "What have you guys got this afternoon?"
"Sociology," grumbled Hercules. "If I'm still awake by the end, call a doctor because I think I'll have had a brain transplant."
Lafayette groaned as well. "History of the US. It's like they're trying to brainwash me into becoming a law-abiding American citizen!"
John laughed, loudly and freely. "God, Laf. Heaven forbid that you actually have to obey the law! "
Lafayette turned away in disgust, and Hercules punched John gently in the shoulder in appreciation, quietly chuckling. "And when you do eventually get arrested, guess who'll be prosecuting you? Our favourite lawyer-to-be, John Laurens!"
John groaned. "Oh God, don't remind me of the career that I'm going to be forced to uphold until Father dearest decides I'm not a disappointment anymore."
"Oui, if you were prosecuting me, I would be unlucky to get so much as a fine!"
"Oh yeah? You on trial? One pretty face on the jury and all you'll be able to do is stammer!"
"Alright, children, break it up!" It was unusual for Mulligan to play the peacekeeper; normally he was content to watch the pair rip each other to shreds in the spirit of friendship, and more often than not was a part of it too. "You've got art next, right John?"
"Yeah, on the other side of campus, working lunch - oh shit! My sketchpad!" John quickly stopped, slinging his bag off of his shoulder and rummaging around inside. He pawed past sandwiches and laptop chargers, but no familiar brown sketchbook. "I must have left it in the auditorium!"
He glanced back down the hall where they had come from, then back to his friends. "I'll need to go back and grab it. I'll see you guys later?"
"Sure."
"See ya!"
Class started in 10 minutes, but was far away enough to give the possibility of being late. Art was the only decent class on John's schedule this semester, and anyway, today was a talk about drawing marine life. He was not going to be late!
It wasn't until John had started pushing open the auditorium door that he heard the voices coming from inside. He froze mid - action, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.
There was still time to turn and leave, but he needed that sketchpad. Damn it. He continued pushing open the door and strode in confidently.
Inside, the Comparative Literature professor, Professor Washington, was conversing with a young man, presumably a student, that John didn't recognise. Surprisingly short, black hair and the deepest-looking dark eyes that John had ever seen.
"Professor Washington, I'm very sorry to intrude, but I believe that I may have accidentally left my sketchpad in here. Did anyone happen to hand it in?"
John tore his gaze from the quite handsome - no, don't think about that - young man, focusing on the elder as he nodded towards the desk in the corner of the lecture theater. "John? Ah yes, Madison handed it to me a few minutes ago. It's in the top drawer."
John moved steadily over to the desk, not deliberately trying to listen in on the conversation that had been resumed in hushed tones, but not trying hard to block it out, either.
"But sir, I only wanted to know about the upcoming assignments to get a head start."
"Alex, it's your first day, and joining mid-semester is always difficult. Take a break, you'll need some time to adjust before you start taking on extra work."
First day? Well, that explained why John didn't recognise him. He wondered if he had a place to stay yet. Roommates were hard to find after the first weeks of the semester.
"John? Have you found it?"
He stood bolt upright, suddenly guilty and slightly flushed. Why are you guilty? You've done nothing wrong! It's not your fault they were talking loud enough for you to hear! "Yes sir, thank you sir, have a nice day sir."
John pulled his sketchpad out of the half-open drawer and almost ran out of the room, just managing to hold onto some last vestiges of composure. Why was he reacting like this? It made no sense. He closed the door behind him, leaning on it for a few seconds to catch his breath.
John's eyes suddenly snapped open again, remembering where he was supposed to be.
He set off walking across the campus at a fast pace, forcing any thought of dark-eyed strangers from his mind.
He was four minutes and nineteen seconds late for the start of his art class.
**************************************************************************************************************
It had just gone 10 PM, and Alex had been in the campus library for six hours straight. He wasn't planning on returning to his dorm until the early hours of the morning, didn't want to risk socializing with his new roommate. Greetings were too much work. He had been lucky; through some miracle, even four weeks into the first semester, there was a student alone in a two-bedroom dorm and willing to share. Some guy called Aaron Burr.
From what little Alex had picked up today, he was a quiet, dedicated student, already ahead of most of the other freshmen. This was the competition, and this was why Alex was slowly working through a stack of books and typing steadily into his battered, second hand laptop, working on next month's sociology essays.
Today hadn't been too bad, as first days go. Took a taxi from the airport to campus, a mind numbing two hour journey as his laptop had died on the plane and he was finding it impossible to sleep. He arrived at campus in the late morning, and went straight to his new dorm room, took ten minutes to shower and change into fresh clothes, pack his rucksack with supplies and leave to try and navigate the large campus before his first class started.
Again, Alex had been lucky, and some friendly sophomores had been happy to give him directions. He'd arrived early enough to make an impression as an eager student. It turned out that the Comparative Literature professor, Professor Washington, was the one who pushed for his application to be accepted, even late into the semester.
A sudden commotion at the library front desk snapped Alex out of his work-based reverie. Why couldn't people just shut up and let others work?
He'd never been able to stand distractions whilst working. No music, no busy places, they just stopped him from being able to focus. There were only three other people in the library, being too early in the semester for many people to be pulling all-nighters.
Footsteps drew near to Alex's desk, and he looked up to the source of all of the noise. A young man stopped a few meters away from him, and crouched down, scanning the shelves and muttering under his breath.
"India, India, where is it?"
He had a nice voice, soothing, but more distracting than most people. Alex ignored a twinge of recognition and sighed internally. "Turn around, three shelves to your right, and one shelf up."
The student turned, slightly confused, then processed what Alex had said and quickly found what he was looking for with a brief smile of satisfaction.
"Wow, thanks! I'd probably have been looking for hours otherwise. Student on shift is no help at all, too busy sleeping at the desk. Just vaguely pointed over here when I asked."
When Alex made no attempt at a reply, the man moved a little closer, face lighting up again in pleasant surprise. "Hey, it's you! You were the guy talking to Washington earlier! After Comparative Lit? I wasn't listening in or anything, though, I promise."
Alex realised where the brief spark of recognition flared from. "Oh yeah, you'd forgotten your sketchpad. Are you always that disorganized?"
The student grinned, and tapped his temple with one finger, just above a smattering of freckles. They were dotted over his cheeks like starbursts in the dark skies of Puerto Rico. "Good memory for faces, terrible memory for names."
Alex ignored the clear question, and asked one of his own. "Why India?"
"What? Oh, it's just an essay for US History. 'Compare the American Revolution with one other from history.' Most people are doing the French Revolution, but I'm doing the Indian Independence Movement, mostly because if I did the French Revolution, my friend Lafayette would flip his shit and never stop trying to bombard me with facts about his homeland. Never. I'll be consigned to Death by Ancient History."
He pulled up a chair next to Alex, who was now resigned to leaving his work for God knows how long, and let this stranger's voice wash over him and distract him from everything he needed distracting from.
"Thanks again for directing me to the right shelf. How on earth did you know where it was so quickly?"
Alex grinned wryly. "Because by the end of the semester, you'll probably have still not spent as much time in here as I have already."
"But it's your first day! You should be out having fun with friends or something, celebrating the start of a journey!"
"OK, first? Fun isn't something I do. Second, I'll celebrate when I graduate, thanks. Thirdly, friends are also something I don't do. Also, you said you weren't listening!"
"Alright, I concede. Maybe I did listen. A little bit. I didn't catch your name, though?"
Alex felt a dozen snide retorts rise up in his throat, and each one would have let him get back to the essay half- finished and abandoned on the slightly scratched screen of his battered laptop, but he bit them all back and forced a smile.
"Alexander Hamilton."
"John Laurens."
They shook hands solemnly, then laughed at the formality like two fourth-graders making an oath for the first time.
"So, have you got lodgings sorted yet? That can be a real pain mid-semester."
"Yeah, somehow they still had another freshman on his own in a double dorm, so I'm in there for now. Some guy called Aaron Burr?"
John smirked a little. "God, you're in with Burr? I think I might know why he was on his own. Has his infuriatingly abject neutrality pissed you off yet?"
"I still haven't actually met him yet."
"What? Haven't you...been to your dorm yet?"
"Only to dump my bags and shit."
"Wait, so it's your first day on campus? And you still went to classes?"
Alex flushed slightly and paused before replying. "Actually, it's my first day in America." Why the hell did he say that? There was no reason to say that. He'd put time into trying to cover up his accent, trying to stop his whole appearance from screaming 'immigrant'. And then he blurts it out to the first person he meets. Although, to be fair, this guy had a french friend, so maybe he wasn't all Southern elitism, 'Keep Out Foreigners'.
John was practically speechless. "What... But... That's... Wow. Dedication. On your first day in the country? That's just...wow. I'm impressed. There's no way I could do that."
He is impressed, mused Alex. That's genuine, at least. "You know, that's the first time you've been speechless since we met. Did you know that? Do you always talk this much?"
"No, I...I don't normally." Only around cute guys.
Alex considered that response. He could see the curiosity burning in John's eyes, but he so far hadn't asked any of the questions that Alex wanted to put off for as long as possible.
Where did you come from?
Why did you leave?
He had to admit it, it was nice to just talk to someone who didn't seem to care where he was born and why he wasn't right.
Maybe he did need a friend after all.