To The Four of Us
Alexander knew he was a star student. It was perhaps at the source of his ambition, along with his own pride— as much as Alex hated to admit it (and he did not admit it), pride and legacy were to blame for his endless ambition, and praise or appreciation from others was what motivated him to reach another height, the height that he was known for.
This motivation was well-received in particular from Mr. George Washington, who had shaped up to be Alex's favorite teacher (and arguably his favorite adult in the building) over the course of the past few weeks. Sure, his class was a long period, and sure, Thomas Jefferson was always there and always ready with his outspoken opinions and outdated evidence, but the lectures Washington gave and the mellow (but subtly warm) praise he granted Alex for his every essay was worth these hardships. And in addition to the time he got to spend with his friends each day— including John; especially John —the class became the subject of his avid interest and obsession.
As the class was drawing to a close on the day in question, Alex allowed his thoughts to shift from the curriculum to the boy beside him, almost as a reward for the fervent attention he'd payed the civics lesson all class. He finally allowed his mind to process and focus on his other obsession: John Laurens. Alexander felt the weight of John's hand in his own, and became blissfully aware of how little distance lay between them. In fact, Alex thought, this lack of distance extended into the emotional range, too. He felt as though a piece of him belonged to John now; this large portion of his affections and time and thought and heart were John's to keep. Hamilton liked this feeling of vulnerability, which was rare— he hated feeling like a weakness was bared. But John made him feel safe. John made him feel loved. John made him feel—
"Alex," Laurens was grinning, right there, holding both Alex's hands now. "You realize the bell rang?"
"Oh! No. Shit. If I can study for that history test during lunch, then I can pass it and raise my average..." Alexander began to gather his belongings, standing up.
John raised his eyebrows. "You were up all last night studying for this quiz, you're gonna pass it. You should give yourself a break."
Alex hesitated, still unsure. Damn, John took good care of him. And Alex had spent all last night studying...
Oh, if only John's smile wasn't so persuasive. "Alright," Hamilton gave in, "But if I get less than an A, it's all your fault, John."
"In what world does Alex Hamilton get less than an A?" Laurens narrowed his eyes teasingly. "Don't worry. Take a break."
Alexander grinned unwillingly and squeezed John's hand, pulling his backpack on and starting to make his way to the door, boyfriend (boyfriend!) in tow. That was when he heard a familiar voice— that mostly-calm but weathered, always-in-control voice that Alex had come to know— say his name.
"Hamilton?"
John let go of his hand. "Meet us by the side door, we'll wait up."
Alexander nodded before walking to Washington's desk, where the man was seated and looking intently through a stack of papers covered in scrawling cursive. Alex recognized this as his own handwriting. He stood rather anxiously before Washington, unsure of the tone of this impromptu meeting. "Have I done something wrong, sir?"
Washington looked up from the papers, his eyes betraying his current demeanor by conveying amusement. "Hamilton, your essay on the election process exceeded the range by six pages."
"Oh." Alex looked at the paper in Washington's hand. It contained his introduction, leading into his thesis. Hamilton was proud of that page. But was Washington criticizing him? The tone of his voice had indicated nothing, neither good nor bad. But Washington's eyes told a different story.
"You're a prolific writer," he continued, reordering the stack and folding his hands over it, looking squarely at Alex. "As I'm sure you've heard. And your stances... Your work is beyond your years. Not to say I hadn't heard of that..."
"Sir?"
"Your reputation precedes you, Alexander," Washington said, his mouth turning up into a small smile. His eyes danced with a sort of contained anticipation. "I've seen your records. And Henry Knox— I understand he's your guardian now?"
"Yes," Hamilton held onto his backpack straps, "It's him and his wife."
"Right." Washington flipped through the papers before him, just ruffling the pages. "Hamilton, have you considered joining student government?"
Alex's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"
"Student government. I know your friends are part of the council. And..."
"Yes?"
"I would be willing to appoint you to the position of treasurer, if you would be willing," Washington looked at Hamilton, almost expectantly. "The positions of president and vice are voted on by the students, but treasurer and secretary are appointed by me. If you can manage our accounts like I hear you can, you'd be the perfect fit."
"Thank you," Alex was still surprised. It wasn't every day that he was offered a high position in student government at a school he'd just come into. His pride inevitably inflated. "I'd— I can make you proud. I'll manage the financials, organize your information, show up at every meeting—"
Washington smiled. "I trust you'll rise to the occasion. Thank you, Alex."
Alexander smiled back at him, excitement flooding through him. "Thank you, sir."
With that, he turned and rushed out the door, turning down hallways and around corners until he reached the side doors, pushing them open and stopping once he was outside— finding his nose within a foot of Lafayette's.
"Ah! I see he has made it," Laf called over his shoulder, directing his comment at Laurens and Mulligan, and his grin at Hamilton. "What held you up so long, mon ami?"
Alex, breathless, stood up straight and returned Laf's smile. "Washington."
"Washington?" Hercules crossed his arms, leaning on Laf's car, parked several yards away.
"Washington. He wanted to talk to me about student council." Hamilton's grin grew, and he awaited further questioning with a smug hunger.
John rolled his eyes, smiling at Alex, and indulged him. "And what did he say?"
"He's appointing me to the seat of treasurer," Alex replied regally. "And he said 'my friends' are on the council. So I'll be seeing you there!"
"Holy shit, Alex, congratulations!" John's eyes widened with happiness, and he beamed at Alexander.
"Saw that coming," Lafayette winked, twirling his car keys around his finger. "Congrats, Aléxandre!"
"WOOOOOOHOOOO!!!!" Herc's cry of excitement could be heard from the other side of the building. He promptly returned his attention to his stomach. "Now I'm starving and we're running outta time, man. Lunch ends kinda soon and I haven't had a single fry."
"Ah, oui! Get in," Laf said, opening the door to the drivers' seat and hopping in. Hercules claimed the passenger seat, and John opened the door to the back, stepping aside to let Alex in, who bowed slightly and pulled John in right on his heels before Laurens could even shut the door properly. John settled in next to Alexander, strapping into the middle seat in the back while Alex was in the seat to his right, so all the extra space in the backseat was decidedly not between the pair. He grabbed Alex's hand, settling in next to him and quickly kissing him on the cheek before either Laf or Herc noticed.
Both were already preoccupied with Lafayette's takeoff; hitting the gas and burning up the road— rather, the rest of the parking lot —and speeding down the street towards downtown.
In fact, John decided it was an everyday miracle that whenever any of the group drove, they weren't pulled over for speeding or recklessness or too-rowdy car karaoke or something.
"So where, exactly, are we going?" Alex grinned, watching the world fly by the car's windows.
"You'll see," Hercules said ominously. "It's a rite of passage."
"Passage?"
"Passage! You must complete at least one lunch at Montgomery's with the rest of us if you have any desire to, how you say... stick with us." Lafayette smirked at Alex through the rearview mirror, taking a sharp left turn.
"Then I suppose I have no choice," Alex replied, sneaking a glance at John and laughing.
"Absolutely none, Hamilton," John said, leaning his head on Alex's shoulder as Lafayette took a near-ninety-degree turn into the parking lot of a small diner, bringing the car to a jarring stop in the perfect center of a parking spot by the door.
"I hope whoever taught you how to drive survived," Alex said, unbuckling both his and John's seatbelts and climbing out of the car. He didn't have to admit that he'd enjoyed the drive regardless; it was obvious enough.
"We all drive like that," Hercules offered in a nonplussed voice, "And if you don't, we'll sure as hell teach you."
"How you say, no sweat." Lafayette locked the car, holding the door to Montgomery's Diner open for his friends.
As the group entered, John looked around at the restaurant he knew so well, looking at it in whole as the four walked through to what he knew was their usual booth. The place was decorated heavily with memorabilia from as many different decades as the owners could possibly fit into one space, and the booths and tables were packed together with just enough room for waiters and patrons to walk through single file. It was always warm in the diner, and it always smelled like fresh fries and good food. John had always thought the decor was perfect; small and personal— a place he could call home without it being spoiled by the cold, impersonal feeling his family's wealth brought to the word.
Taking in his surroundings, John decided that his previous opinion that the place could not surpass the level of perfection it had maintained for years was, in fact, incorrect. This conclusion needed only Alexander's face to be in sight among the decor and setting, alight with a smile, to be reached.
John, Hercules, Alex, and Lafayette slid into the booth, two to a side, with John and Alex on one bench facing Herc and Laf on the other. Hamilton was the only one to pick up a menu.
"A round of root beer all around, and I am getting some fries," Lafayette said, decisively rattling off his part of the order and tightening his ponytail absentmindedly.
"I want a burger," Herc took his hat off, dropping it on the table in front of him. "With fries. The fries here are fucking awesome, Ham."
"Are they?" Hamilton was still scanning the menu. The weight in his pocket— or, lack of weight in his pocket— made his stomach turn slightly, and this feeling didn't subside as he realized nothing on the menu would be inexpensive enough for him, save a drink. Alex sighed. He'd settle for a root beer, like Laf had suggested, and that could be enough. That, plus John's hand in his, would be enough.
"I'll get some fries," Laurens said, smiling at Alex.
"I'll just get root beer."
"Are you sure, mon cher? The food, it is like heaven..."
"It's fine," Alex insisted, his inability to shut up kicking into full-drive, "I'm not all that hungry and I've only got enough to pay for that. I ate breakfast, though."
"Naw," John knit his brows together, wrapping his arm around Alex in a side-hug across the shoulders. "Come on, I'll buy you some French fries. They're to die for."
"No, I couldn't let you," Alex said, reluctant, yet assertive. "You shouldn't get me a plate. I'm not even hungry."
"Fine," John grinned, "We'll split an order. And the soda's on me, too, y'all."
"John... Agh." Alexander's articulate side lost the battle against his impulses when Laurens pressed a quick kiss to his hairline, right by his ear. What was stubbornness in the face of John Laurens? "Fine. But I owe you one."
"And you owe me five," Lafayette suddenly said, and John turned just in time to see Herc grudgingly slip Laf a five dollar bill, muttering in protest.
"You were making bets?" Alex seemed more amused than anything, sliding his menu to the edge of the table.
"If not, it would have been wasted opportunity, non?" Laf flashed the pair a grin. "You were certainly to happen, mes amis!" He paused, waving over a waitress and ordering four root beers, three orders of fries, and a burger for Hercules, his French accent thick through his grin, which had yet to fade.
"So y'all are a thing now?" Hercules put his napkin in his lap (which was unexpected, as he was the first and last at the table to do so) and looked at John and Alex with a wide smile.
"I think so." Alexander grinned, pulling John into his arms.
"Hah, he thinks so! Ask Laurens, he's the one with the PDA..." Herc singsonged.
"I had to convince him to get me to buy him food somehow," John replied, raising one eyebrow.
"Ah, of course! So you seduced him!" Lafayette positively shone.
"HEYOOOO!!!"
"You two are obnoxious as hell," Alex was laughing at the two, though, and he winked at them before kissing John on the cheek.
"GAHHHH!!!"
"NOOOOO!!!"
"GET A... how you say? Oh— ROOM!!!"
"Aw, shut up," John was cracking up, and the group barely noticed when their drinks arrived. He thanked the waitress. "Do y'all actually think we're that bad?"
"Yes."
"Hell yes."
"Really?" Alex took a quick drink of his root beer.
"Well..." Lafayette pulled out his phone, turning the camera on the two. "Pas vraiment."
"Agh!!" John laughed, picking up his glass. The others followed suit. "To our new treasury secretary!"
"To our new treasury secretary!" The other three repeated back.
"To our latest insider," Lafayette suggested, raising his eyebrows at Hamilton.
"To our latest insider!"
"To our new lovebirds!" Herc raised his glass higher with immense enthusiasm.
"To our new lovebirds!"
"Hey," Alex said, cocking one eyebrow.
"Hey," John tilted his head, amused, but proceeded. "Raise a glass to freedom— something they can never take away. No matter what they tell you," he continued, looking around at his companions. He wasn't quite sure what he meant, exactly; it was such a broad proposal. Perhaps he was referring to the moment itself, the four high schoolers taking time out of the day to wander in the world and spend time together. Perhaps he was referring to himself and Alexander, and the freedom they had to be themselves together; a feeling that made John's heart swell and his life feel a thousand times better. Perhaps he was even referring to the feeling of wildness and recklessness that coursed through his veins endlessly, and that he knew pulsated throughout his friends, as well. Whatever it was, it was wonderful, and true, and unspeakably real.
"Raise a glass to the four of us," John continued.
"Tomorrow there'll be more of us," Alexander replied, softer, and his and John's glasses met with a clink.
All four boys took a drink.
It was then that the table's food arrived; three orders of fries, one gigantic burger, and a shit ton of napkins.
"You only have, oh, ten minutes to finish that," Laf stared at Hercules' gigantic burger.
"Ten minutes?"
"Oui."
Herc grinned. "I'm gonna win my money back. How much we betting I can finish in five?"
"Ten dollars," Lafayette replied, picking up a French fry and taking a dainty bite.
"You're on!"
Alex and John watched, astounded, as Hercules earned back his five dollars (plus five more), and when the time came to pay the bill and head back to school, it only took one kiss to the cheek (from John) and a whole lot of disturbing the public peace (from Laf and Herc) to get Alexander to agree to accept the lunch-outing as a gift from the rest of them.
The four climbed back into Lafayette's car, and as Laf started the engine and prepared to return to school, that one phrase repeated itself in John's mind. He looked at Alexander, happiness filling him in a way no happiness had before he'd met Hamilton.
Raise a glass to freedom.
It made way for another chorus, sounding throughout John's head, bringing a smile to his face and a fluttering, weightless feeling to his heart. Whatever the hell that was, he had to admit that he liked it.
Tomorrow there'll be more of us...