Chapter Text
The scenery flew by, slowly transitioning from vast fields, wooden fences and horses to narrow streets, tall buildings and honking cars. Alexander leaned his head against the cold glass of the car's window watching as another light turned red and the vehicle came to a stop. He swung his legs up, kicking the seat in front go him with his dirty sneakers, from the backseat he could see the grip on the steering wheel tighten as the kicks landed, but no complaint was voiced. Behind the wheel was his dubbed new foster father George Washington, a bald man with a history in the army and possibly the biggest apartment he had ever seen. When the man and the government official had first come around the house the cousin he was staying with had teased him relentlessly, calling him 'Daddy Warbucks' and singing 'The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow' every chance he got. Alexander had denied the proposal of foster care in the beginning, finding it ridiculous as long as he had a perfectly fine family member around. Why get himself into another home while he had his own blood? At least that's what he thought. A funeral and a few papers later it was decided. So there he was, in an expensive car speeding (or rather inching) towards a shiny new life he didn't want.
Washington cleared his throat, glancing at the rear view mirror. "Martha should be home when we get to the house, I hope you don't mind breakfast for dinner." He chuckled, trailing off as he caught sight of the look on the boy's face. Alexander gave no response, keeping his gaze firmly set out the window. The light turned green.
The sky was beginning to darken as they finally pulled into the parking garage, halting to a stop in a parking space with a small screech. It only took one trip to bring Alexander's bags up to the narrow staircase to the elevator, the only sound was the soft click of the wheels of the suitcase on the hard floor. By the time they were in the elevator Alexander could no longer control the irritatingly unpatterned tapping of his foot and the fact that he was shaking all over. The soft 'ding' of the elevator cut through the silence and made the boy jump a little. He followed after the older man as he moved through the sliding doors out into a lavish looking hall, Alexander glanced down at his sneakers, wondering if he would get in trouble for dirtying the expensive carpet. He hoped so, an argument or something other than numbing pleasentries and anxiety inducing car rides would be better than anything right then.
Washington walked at a steady pace down the hallway, not taking the time to glance at the elegant wallpaper or feel the soft carpet, it was clear he had been there so many times he no longer needed to. "Gilbert Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan live right there-" The man pointed to a door, complete with its own 'Welcome' mat it seemed like a place you would more likely find on an old neighborhood than a rich apartment complex. "They have a son close to your age, John. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear theres another boy in the building. Theres also another boy right next door." They landed in front of a door and he gestured to the one beside it. This one had no mat, only a polished sign reading 'No Solicitors.' "The Burrs, their boy's name is Aaron, smart kid, you two would get along." He fished a ring of keys out of his pocket, rifling through them for a moment before finding the one he was looking for and inserting it into the lock, opening the door. "Why don't you take your stuff in and I'll show you where your room is after you and Martha get aquatinted?"
"Yeah, fine." Alexander hitched the bag further up on his shoulder glancing up at Washington for a moment before looking back down at his shoes. The man sighed softly as his foster son pushed past him into the entryway of the apartment. Although he had been there once before the wide space seemed to only get bigger and he had to take a moment to admire the paint coating the walls and the spiral staircase stretching from the main floor to whatever lied above.
"Hello, You must be Alexander!" The boy's attention was quickly snapped to a short and warmly smiling woman nudging a piece of meat on a frying pan with a spatula, clad with a pair of tasteful sunflower kitchen mittens. "I'm Martha Washington, George's wife." She put down the pan and the spatula and slipped off the gloves to rush over to him with an outstretched hand.
Alexander let the bag slip off his shoulder and drop to the floor with a dull sound as he returned the handshake, finding her hands to be very soft. He made his first effort at a smile that evening. "Bonsoir Mrs. Washington."
"Oh a French speaker! We have a few of those in the building, I'm sure Mr. Lafayette down the hall would be thrilled to converse with you."
The evening carried on slowly, a dinner of pancakes and bacon was served and Washington insisted on a meal in the dining room. Alexander could feel himself start to get tired and irritable as his patience with smalltalk wore thin.
"So, do you have any interest in baseball son? Theres a local team that's won quite a few awards."
He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "No interest at all, sports aren't valuable in the long run."
It was clear the man was affronted by his statement, making a small humming sound in the back of his throat. "And what are your plans for the long run, Alexander?"
"Law, politics, though I should probably forget that now that I'm in foster care." The boy grumbled, letting the front legs of his chair touch the ground as the chair tipped forward again.
"Alexander! Why do you say that?" Martha protested sternly.
"Its true!" He looked between the not so happy Washington's for a moment before shaking his head and getting up from the table. "I'm done, thank you." He grabbed one of his bags from the corner and did his best not to stomp out of the room. He was all the way to his bedroom door before he realized Washington had followed him out of the dining room. Too tired and insensible to think he spun around on his heel to face him, a glare on his face.
"You know I didn't ask you to take care of me, you didn't have to, I could've found another place by myself, I'm not stupid." His words were sharp as they spilled out of his mouth as if he believed what he was saying was the most important thing in the world and Washington just wouldn't listen. "Now because of this damn foster care program I'll never get into a good school! They'll just see me as some sort of troublemaker, that's how it goes."
The older man's shock was betrayed by his eyes as he took a small step back from the boy, eyebrows raised clearly trying to gather a suitable response. "Ah, of course you're not stupid, but someone your age all alone isn't appropriate or safe. I know you're still upset over the way the circumstances worked out, being relocated so far away from home-" Washington's demeanor hardened a little and he seemed to hold himself straighter as he finished. "But sometimes we have to do things that are hard, we're all doing this for you."
"That's not what I'm worried about! So what if I'm far from home? I have no home." He sighed, running a hand irritably through his long hair. "Look, I just wish you would've left me more time with my cousin after he..."
"I know, and I'm sorry but it couldn't be held off any longer." When Alexander looked up again Washington's eyes were kind and understanding, he hated it. "I'm sure you've had a long day son, so why don't you just-"
"Fine." He snapped, grabbing the glass handle and jerking the door open. "But I'm not your son."