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Good Intentions

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Alexander takes a deep breath, surveying his outfit in the mirror. He’s wearing his nicest suit and a dark grey tie that Hercules made him specifically for this event.

“Looking good, Hamilton.” Benjamin Tallmadge says, walking up behind him and letting out a low whistle as he meets Alex’s eyes in the mirror.

He lets out a little laugh and runs his fingers through his hair, “Thanks Ben, you don’t look to bad yourself,” Alexander teases with a grin, “I still can’t believe John convinced me to do this.”

“Just keep reminding yourself that all the profits go to charity.” Ben says with a comforting slap on Alexander’s shoulders, “Plus I’m sure whoever you end up with is going to be smoking.”

It’s as Ben says this that Alexander wonders, for what must be the one thousandth time that night, how John convinced him to volunteer a date with himself to be auctioned off in this date night charity auction.

He turns around and smirks at the look on Ben’s face, “What do you say we empty some rich pockets?”

John - bless his soul - teamed up with the Humanitarian club at Columbia to put together a fundraiser for Puerto Rico. They had struggled for awhile trying to come up with the perfect fundraiser. The obvious ones were immediately thrown out - bake sale, car wash. Both required too much effort with not enough pay off. It was eventually decided that with all the old money in New York - a date auction seemed like the easiest way to earn the most money in the shortest amount of time.

John stands backstage with an earpiece in, carefully directing all the dates into their places. There are a few people Alexander recognizes from school. He gives a little nod to Jefferson - whose decked out in his magenta suit - and gets in line behind Angelica Schuyler. She looks amazing, her eyeliner sharp enough to cut, a coral dress that falls mid thigh, and a pair of towering stilettos.

Eliza blows him a kiss from the back of the line and he shoots her a small smile.

“Townsend you’re up first!” John yells from the front of the line, and pulls the curtain open to let Robert step through.

Alexander makes anxious small talk with Angelica and the man behind him as he awaits his turn. He’s terribly nervous, and thinks about slipping out the back when John calls Angelica’s name and helps her walk through the curtain. He must see the look on Alexander’s face, because he mutes his microphone and lays a calming hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“You’ll do amazing, Alexander.” John whispers into his ear.

Alexander gives him a weak smile and nods when John holds the curtain up for him to walk out on the stage.

He steps out onto the slick stage, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the overwhelmingly bright lights.

“Our next volunteer is Alexander Hamilton. Alexander is twenty-four years old, currently getting his master’s degree in economics with a minor in political science. Alexander enjoys reading, debating with prominent politicians on twitter, and getting drunk on the weekends. The bidding for a one date night with Alexander will start at 20$.”

Alexander flashes a charming smile at the crowd and holds his breath at the silence that echoes through the room. At once someone yells, “20$.” and Alexander can breath again


A voice from the back, “45$.”

“90$,” A loud and gruff voice - somewhat familiar- says from Alexander’s left.

“Come on,” The auctioneer says with a laugh, “Look at this charming young man. Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with him?”

A feminine voice from the back, “200$”

There’s a gasp from the farthest part of the room, “350$!”

A girl that Alexander recognizes from his English class raises her number card and yells, “500!”

The same gruff voice from earlier says, “1000$” and Alexander tries his best not to faint. Who would want to spend 1,000 dollars to go on a date with him? Even if it was for charity.

“1,250!” The girl replies casually, like they weren’t talking about a shit ton of money.

“2,000$” The gruff voice says and Alexander cranes his neck in an attempt to find the owner.

The same girl frowns and replies with, “2,001$”

At once the same gruff voice, the one that Alexander swears he knows, says clearly, “3,500$”

Alexander doesn’t miss the way the room seems to gasp and go quiet.

“Sold at 3,500 dollars to number card 12!” The auctioneer says and Alexander’s mouth falls open. Why in the hell would someone pay that much money for a date with him ?

Alexander squints indelicately into the crowd, eyes roaming over faces as he searches for the person holding the number card 12. His eyes roam over nameless faces until he sees one he recognizes: George Washington, Alexander’s former history professor, and in his hand: A white number card, with 12 printed in big block letters.

Alexander freezes when he makes eye contact with Washington. He stares at the man for what feels like hours, until the glint of the light off of Washington’s Rolex forces him from his thoughts. Alexander looks back out at the crowd and smiles sheepishly, blowing them a kiss before ducking backstage as John held the curtain open for him.

“Holy shit, Alex.” John says breathlessly after he ushers the next person out the door. “I knew you’d do great, but three thousand dollars is a hell of a lot of money.”

Alexander’s head whips around, making sure no one is listening into their conversation as he hisses out, “It’s fucking Washington.”

He doesn’t miss the confused expression that flattens out on John’s face, “What?”

“Professor Washington was the one that bought my date.” Alexander explains, “The one who paid three thousand dollars for it.”


Alexander scoffs, like he would make something like this up, “Yes John.” He mutters as he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m trying not to get my hopes up because i know I’m being stupid.”

John’s frown dips in the corners and he sighs, “Alexander, you’re not being stupid.” He says plainly, “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but maybe it does .”

Alexander licks his lips and nods slowly. He’s had a thing for Washington since his sophomore year, when he walked into Intro to American Economics and immediately fell in love. It just spiraled from there. Due to his economics/poli sci major, Alexander had Washington’s classes at least three times a week, some weeks Washington was the only teacher Alexander saw.

His infatuation got a break his senior year of undergrad, when most of Alexander’s required courses had been completed, and Alexander only saw Washington once a week at most.

Freshman year of grad school, Washington just had to go and fuck up all the progress Alexander had made by asking him to be his teacher’s aid for his undergraduate classes. Alexander, of course, couldn’t say no to that. Which is how he ended up spending most, if not all, of his free time with the man he was desperately infatuated with.

He would lounge around in Washington’s room during his free periods, sometimes helping him grade papers, sometimes working on assignments from other classes, and sometimes taking a quick nap on the couch in Washington’s room, as Washington sat across from him at his desk grading papers or reading from one of the many books he kept on the bookshelf behind his desk.

Occasionally Washington would keep him late when there was a particularly jarring deadline approaching. The help wasn’t completely one sided, though, Washington was always willing to offer Alexander advice on his assignments and posed as a second eye to help edit his longer than average papers.

The more time Alexander spent with the man, the more he felt himself falling for the charming, yet untouchable professor. Which is why Alexander was grateful for the end of his freshman year of grad school.

He made sure to completely book his sophomore year with classes, electives, friends, and dates. Anything to be used as an excuse if Washington asked for his help again, and anything to be used as a distraction from how badly he wanted to say yes to Washington’s request.

And then when Washington asked him to be his teacher’s aid, Alexander looked at his feet and resisted the urge to drop enough of his classes to open up his schedule. It was John who helped convince him that he couldn’t spend the rest of his college career sacrificing his education so he could bend to every one of Washington’s whims.

It was difficult to do, but Alexander ended up sending Washington a politely distant email saying how thankful he was for the offer, but his schedule this year was severely full and he couldn’t afford to drop any of his classes. He wished Washington a good school year, and signed it with his initials. Polite, cold, finished.

Not seeing Washington everyday was instrumental in helping Alexander get over this infatuation - of sorts - that he had with his professor. Up until this moment, Alexander hadn’t even spared the man a thought.

Alexander slips out the back stage door and joins the rest of the party. John had done an excellent job in putting together this charity auction, but then again that’s not surprising, considering John’s more prestigious background. He probably attended events like this every weekend with his father.

A waitress in a black suit comes up next to him, offering him a tall flute of champagne. Alexander accepts the drink, if only to have something to do with his hands. He take a careful sip, the chilled champagne bubbling in his mouth. He swallows around the mouthful with a grimace. The more expensive drinks have never been his thing. He prefers a cold beer or a shot of tequila.

He moseys around, stopping to speak to Eliza when he catches her eye.

“Eliza, you look absolutely ravishing tonight,” He murmurs, grabbing her extended hand and pressing his lips to the back of it.

She giggles adorably and her cheeks flush red, “Alexander, always the charmer.” She says sweetly, “Although it must be you that looks ravishing, after all no one donated three thousand dollars for a date with me.”

He flashes her his most charming smile and says, “Why Eliza, the people in this room obviously lack intelligence then.”

She flushes again and her eyes focus on something behind him, and then he hears, from behind him, “I’m glad you think so highly of me, Alexander.”

He drops Eliza’s hand and spins around, immediately recognizing the imposing figure in front of him.

“Professor Washington,” He says as a greeting, looking up to met the eye of his former professor.

“Alexander,” Washington says, voice as imposing as his figure. He turns to face Eliza and shakes her outstretched hand, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of having you in class, Miss Schuyler, was it?”

She smiles kindly at him, “Elizabeth Schuyler, and I fulfilled my History requirements with Professor Arnold, unfortunately I suppose, considering how highly Alex speaks of you.”

Washington nods thoughtfully, “Well Mr. Arnold is a fine teacher.” He says carefully, “What’s your major, Miss Schuyler?”

And this is just one of many reasons that Alexander fell for Washington, the way he seems so interested in the lives of everyone he talks to, and the way he’s so easy to talk to.

Angelica calls Eliza’s name and she looks over her shoulder. Angelica is standing next to a girl in a long red dress and motions Eliza over.

“I’m sorry, my sister’s calling me,” Eliza directs more to Washington than Alexander, “It was great finally meeting you, Professor Washington.” She curtsies.

“You too Miss. Schuyler, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” Washington nods at her, allowing a rare close lipped smile to cross his features.

“I’ll see you later, Alex.” She says to him, and disappears in a flurry of lavender perfume and blue fabric.

Alexander watches her go before reluctantly turning to face his former professor. Washington’s eyes are dark and focused, his intense gaze on Alexander’s face. He quickly glances down.

“You’ll have to forgive me for interrupting your conversation with Miss. Schuyler,” Washington says suddenly, and Alexander glances up from his shoes.

He smiles softly and licks his lips. He really needs a drink, but he’s not desperate enough to drink out of the flute in his hand, “You weren’t interrupting anything.” Alexander tells him, “I’m surprised you came tonight.”

Washington raises a single brow, “The faculty was invited and I couldn’t miss the opportunity to support such a great cause.”

And that’s why Washington bought his date. He simply wanted to donate his money to a good cause, and how could Alexander fault him for that? It’s not Washington’s fault that Alexander reads into everything. 

At once, Alexander feels the tiredness he has been avoiding all day finally start to settle behind his eyes. “Right,” He says slowly, aware of the way Washington’s blank face searches his own, “Well I guess I’m yours for the night. What plans do you have for our date?” He says, voice almost teasing.

Washington smiles again - another rare occurrence - and casts a glance at his watch. (An expensive Rolex that probably costs more than Alex’s tuition.) “It’s not too late, so we could grab dinner if you want?”

“Consider the price you paid for tonight, I’d say it’s up to.”

Washington’s face smooths back into his neutral expression, “Let’s do dinner then.” He puts his hand on the small of Alexander’s back, and he suddenly wishes he could find that flute he doesn’t remember sitting down earlier. A little alcohol in his system would be a good thing at the moment.

Alexander leads them out of the building, momentarily stopping to let Washington lead him because he doesn’t know what Washington drives. The man shoves his hands in his pant pockets and starts walking in the direction away from the doors. Alexander keeps pace beside him, taking two steps for each one that Washington takes.

They eventually arrive at a sleek black Buick and Alexander barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Washington unlocks it and Alexander slides into the passenger seat.

Washington gets in the driver seat and starts the car. The atmosphere is tense in a way it’s never been between them before, and Alexander hates it. He remembers how it used to be between them, the days when he was Washington’s aid.

Alexander all but raced through the hallway, determined to get to Washington’s room to have the professor look over his newest paper before he had to submit it in, a glance at his watch, 17 minutes.

He briskly walked through Washington’s door and saw the man sitting at his desk, a fast food bag laid out in front of him as he flipped through his paperback book.

Washington glanced up as Alexander all but slammed his laptop down in front of him. “I need you to edit this paper.”

Washington’s eyes narrowed on the paper, “When’s this due?”

“In like ten minutes.”

Washington looked over at Alexander, his frown deepening as his eyes trailed over Alex’s face. He reached into the fast food bag in front of him, and tossed it to Alexander’s lap, “For God’s sake Alexander, eat. You look like you’re about to pass out.”, and then slid a mug full of coffee towards him. (Washington always picked him up a mug of coffee, since Alex usually spent his lunch with the professor)

Alexander’s fingers closed around the burger as Washington began to scroll down the page, typing corrections as he saw fit.

Alexander took a bite of the sandwich, sighing at the taste on his tongue, he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he ate.

Washington finished making changes with two minute to spare. He handed the laptop to Alex who hurried and emailed his paper to Dr. Franklin.

“Are you not going to look at the changes I made?” Washington asked, taking a sip from his own coffee mug.

Alexander scoffed, and took another bite of the burger, “Of course not. I trust you.”

“How are your classes going?” Washington asks, interrupting the display of memories that were flashing through Alexander’s head.

“They’re great actually, I’m really enjoying my class on public policy.” Alexander replies with a sincere smile.

Washington casts him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye before focusing back on the road, “Well if you ever need someone to look over your papers, you know I’m more than willing.”

“I’d really appreciate that, Washington. How’s teaching treating you?” Alexander asks.

Washington sighs and pulls a hand off the wheel to rub over his eyes, “It’s okay. I’ve definitely had better classes, but I can’t complain too much. They pay attention, submit their work. They seem to be lacking passion for the subject though. I haven’t had a single argument break out during debates.” He explains, “Maybe I’m just used to you and Jefferson fighting, but they seem so uninterested.”

“Ah yes,” Alexander chuckles, “Intro to political platforms 101. I miss that class.”

Washington’s mouth twitches at the corner, “You mean you miss holding up class everyday with your and Jefferson’s debating- or should I say yelling?”

Washington pulls into a restaurant Alexander’s never heard of before, and Alexander smiles, “Yeah I supposes we did argue a lot.”

He turns the car off and steps out, Washington crosses the front of the car to open Alexander’s door for him.

Alexander raises an eyebrow and Washington simply shakes his head, interlocking his arm with Alex’s, “I believe this is date, is it not Alexander?”

To Alexander’s horror, he feels his cheeks flush, and he prays it’s dark enough that Washington won’t notice, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

Washington opens the restaurant for Alexander and then steps in behind him. It takes Alexander three seconds to realize why he’s never visited this restaurant before. The way the staff is dressed, the golden chandeliers, the plush velvet waiting chairs. This was way too expensive of a place for Alexander.

“Reservation for Washington.” The older man says to the hostess, who - without looking at the reservations - immediately escorts Washington and Alexander to their seats. It’s a secluded table towards the back, and Washington pulls Alexander’s seat out for him. He sits down and immediately smooths his jacket. Even dressed in his finest - thank you Hercules - Alexander knows without a doubt that he doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong in Washington’s world.

“Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?” The waiter says, immediately coming over to hand them their menus. Even the menus are more elegant than anything Alexander’s witnessed. They’re white with black font and golden trim around the edges.

“A bottle of Prosecco and two waters, please.” Washington replies casually and the waiter nods with a smile.

“Of course, Mr. Washington.”

Alexander watches as the waiter leaves before he flashes Washington a smile, “Mr. Washington, huh?”

Washington glances down at the table before making eye contact again, “I come here fairly often, Alexander.”

He takes a deep breath, listening to the way his name rolls of Washington’s tongue. If he’s being honest, Alexander’s always had a thing for Washington’s voice. It was distracting enough during class, but here? It was somehow worse.

“Well if you come here so often, you’d be able to recommend what I should order?” Alexander quips, and he knows that Washington knows what he’s doing. He want’s to know how much Washington’s willing to pay.

The man looks him in the eyes and says plainly, “Anything you want.” and then a second later, “Although I’m quite partial to the Ciceri e Tria .”

“That sounds perfect.”

Washington’s eyes stare unwavering into Alexander’s, until they’re interrupted by the waiter. He sets down two empty wine glasses, uncorks the wine and pours them ⅓ of the way full before placing the bottle and two glasses of water on the table.

“Are you ready to order, or do you need a minute?”

“Alexander will have the Ciceri e Tria , and I’ll have the linguini with clam sauce.” Washington replies before he takes a sip of his wine.

The waiter disappears and Alexander turns back to his date. “How’s Martha?” Alexander inquires, taking a deep drink from his glass of water.

Washington’s brow seems to smooth at the mention of his ex-wife, “Martha is fine. She’s still up in Alaska finishing her research, but I just talked to her for the first time in a year a couple of days ago.” Washington pauses, as if thinking out what he was about to say, “She actually asked about you.”

Alexander’s eyebrow raises, “What’d she ask?”

“She just wondered how you were doing. She had gotten used to you writing her letter for me, and she was surprised when I told her you were no longer my aid.”

Alexander smiles lightly. He had actually grown quite fond of Martha during his time as Washington’s aid. “I’m glad to hear her research is going well. Give her my best next time you talk to her, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Washington nods, “She’ll be delighted to hear that your studies are going well and that you’re no longer arguing with Jefferson in every class.”

Alexander chuckles at that, and the waiter takes the opportunity to drop their dishes off. The rest of dinner flows smoothly, Alexander greatly enjoying his Ciceri e Tria , and actually moaning a little when he first tasted it. Washington’s amused expression was worth any embarrassment he might have felt.

When Washington paid the bill, Alexander was feeling light and happy. The wine made him refreshingly tipsy, but he hadn’t drunk enough to be even slightly inebriated.

He let Washington link their arms together as he follows the older man to his car. Washington - once again - opens the door for him, and helps Alexander climb into the passenger seat.

“Where do you live?” Washington asks him once he starts the car and turns the heat on full blast.

He rattles off his address and watches as Washington types it into his GPS. Alexander prays that John is already asleep because he really doesn’t want to answer his roommate's probing questions, or more he doesn’t know how to answer them.

The drive is mostly silent, except for the soft music playing in the background. Alexander is full, pleasantly buzzed, and tired. He’s ready to climb under his comforter and fall fast asleep.

They pull up to Alexander’s place sooner than he would have hoped, and Washington turns off the car. He opens his door and walks around the front of the car to open Alex’s.

“Let me walk you to the door” Washington asks, offering his arm to Alexander, who accepts. He links their arms together and let’s Washington walk him up the stairs to his front door.

Washington’s so close that Alexander can smell his cologne. As his eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, Alexander sees the way Washington’s eyes are running over his face. They stand there, silent, for what feels like hours before Washington takes a step back. “Goodnight Alexander.”

He has too many questions to just end things like that though. Alexander reaches out and grabs Washington’s hand before he can take another step away. “Wait.”

Washington turns back to face him and Alexander stares up into those gorgeous eyes. “Why’d you spend over three grand on a date with me?”

He hears the deep sigh Washington takes before he starts, “Alexander,”

“Why did you spend over three grand on a date with him?” He asks again, more forcefully this time, and then opens his mouth to ask again.

He doesn’t get the chance, however, because at once Washington is crashing his lips against Alexander’s. He stays frozen like that for a minute, before he finally realizes that the one thing he’d been dreaming of for over four years was finally happening.

Alexander pushes back into the kiss with force, and Washington pressed him up against the front door. The wood is a solid tether behind him, keeping him grounded as Washington continues his exploration of Alexander’s mouth.

There’s a hand tangling in his hair, and another one gripping his hip so tightly that Alexander prays there are going to be bruises there in the morning.

Washington’s lips are harsh against his own, kissing as if this is the last time he’ll ever have the chance. He’s rough; claiming, and Alexander can’t get enough of it.

He wraps his arms around Washington’s neck, pulling his lips closer and keeping him there. He kisses back urgently, thrusting his tongue into Washington’s mouth and shivering when he’s answered with a light groan. Washington’s teeth dig into his bottom lip and Alexander has to grip the door frame to keep himself upright.

Alexander breaks the kiss with a pop, and frowns at the trail of saliva that runs between their mouths as Washington pulls away.

“I’ve been waiting years to do that,” Alexander says softly, one arm pressed lightly to Washington’s chest. He can feel the man’s heart beating quickly under his palm.

Washington smiles, “So I have.”

“You technically never answered my question.” Alexander says slyly, watching as Washington’s mouth pulls up into another smile. (This might be the most he’s seen Washington smile in his life.)

“How about this,” Washington starts, “You go on another date with me, and I’ll explain it in much greater detail.”

“Deal.” Alexander says with his charming boyish smile.

Washington takes another step back, “I’ll call you.” He whispers, pressing on last kiss on Alexander lips before pulling away all together.

He ducks inside his apartment after watching Washington drive away. He closes the door and leans his back up against it.

“So, are you going to tell me about the date?” John asks, walking out of the kitchen with a bag of chips in his hand.

Alexander stands there against the door, with a faraway smile on his face and sighs, “I don’t even know where to begin.”