The Moment of Adrenaline
"Are you saying I'm indecisive?"
Charles Lee straightened his posture, angrily raising his shoulders and squarely facing his fellow heads of the student council.
The treasurer looked him in the eye. "Yes."
"You can't— Hamilton, you can't suggest—"
"I'm not suggesting, Lee, I'm stating facts," Alexander was clearly trying for nonchalance, but his usual fire was burning rather obviously in his eyes. "You clearly can't be left alone to your devices— your plan benefits the smallest, most privileged faction of the school. Distributing funds to the best-supported activities is pointless and corrupted, which is something I'm sure you'll understand."
An audible "whoop" came from the rows of seats (presumably from Mulligan), and in the front row, Madison looked as pale as a ghost.
"I'd like to add on," Jefferson spoke up, raising one eyebrow.
"You have the floor," Washington said roughly. The student council meeting had been escalating for nearly an hour now, and still no progress had been made. The issue on the table was still funding— and the treasurer was growing angrier with each passing moment. Lee, too, was growing unstable, and he looked as though manslaughter was a serious option for a course of action that was crossing his mind. In other words, the meeting was a disaster that was only spiraling into more of a destructive mess with each second.
Jefferson cleared his throat. "Hamilton is right."
This time, there was no "whoop," but Madison looked as though he were about to have a heart attack.
"Charles, your plan is ridiculous. It's an outrageous demand, which is saying something, because Hamilton's is almost forty-thousand words long. We should all just vote on the matter as a council" —the secretary turned to look around at the council at large— "and choose the best solution."
"I'm the president." Lee looked offended, his foot making contact with the podium at which he stood. "It's ultimately my call—"
"This is democracy!" Hamilton looked to Washington for affirmation.
"It is," Jefferson made unsteady eye contact with Hamilton, "And we couldn't undo it if we tried."
"And neither could you, Mr. President. If we could get over this point, we can move on. We can't get hung up on this issue when the answer is clear; I don't care if you're the president of this council or of the damn country, you—"
"Hamilton!"
"Council, take a vote!" Jefferson flipped the page of his notebook, preparing his pen to tally.
"You can't call on the council to vote!" Lee cried.
"Council, take a vote!" Hamilton glared at him, nodding at Jefferson to take note of what would be the consensus.
"No!" Lee stepped out from behind the podium. "I'm the president here. If you were worthy, you would be, but you're not, and you have no business taking over my duties!"
"Worthy?! You must be out of your goddamn mind! And another thing; somehow you have every right to take my power?" Hamilton asked, his voice now shaking with fury and indignation.
"I'm in power!"
"Then use it!"
"You seem to have this whole council at your fingertips, Lee. Take action." Jefferson and Hamilton looked at each other.
"Alright," Lee glared at them both, "Sure. No more notes. No more finances. I take your jobs and your power."
"Lee..." Washington leaned forwards slightly in his seat.
"Lee, you don't even understand what finances are!"
"Fine," Jefferson snarled, taking his notebook and marching over to Madison's desk. "Take notes for me, James."
"No!" Lee cried once again. "You can't just give your position up to— I take notes now!"
"Angelica will be pleased to know you've turned this into a monarchy," Alex snapped. "Once she feels better and comes back, I'm sure she'll be thrilled to bow at your feet."
"I'm the president!!"
"Wheee!" Laurens called mockingly from his seat.
Lee restrained himself, but it seemed to be more of an internalizing-it-for-later reaction. "I am the president, and you will obey me."
"It's the whole council against one, Lee," Jefferson said, and James scrawled something in the notebook he'd been given.
Lee's eye twitched. "I am the president! You will not give your notebook to... oh... a withered little apple—"
"Excuse me?" Jefferson raised his voice in the most diplomatic expression of anger Alexander had ever seen, and the room went silent. "What did you just refer to him as?"
"He's a withered little apple-john—"
"He's my boyfriend, you ass," Thomas said, his voice dropping an octave.
The sudden, threatening tone of his voice silenced Lee.
Thomas Jefferson turned on his heels, his coat kicking out behind him as he stalked out of the room without another word. The door slammed shut. James Madison looked ill.
"My god." Washington stood up, looking more exasperated than he ever had. "Be civil. Lee, we'll be discussing later. I'll be back. Hamilton?"
"Ready, sir."
"Don't start anything. That's an order."
Washington pushed his chair in and left the room, shutting the door behind him. The silence following his exit was crushing, as the council— among them Madison, red in the face, Lee, looking threatening, Hamilton, fists clenched, Laurens, eyes wide —looked around, uneasily waiting for it to be broken.
Lee took a slow breath. "You and Jefferson turned the whole school against me."
"We're not the reason no one trusts you." Hamilton glared at Lee, his fists clenching and unclenching.
"You know, I knew it," Lee began, his eyes narrowing. "I knew it."
"What?"
"You're all so defensive about your little clubs because you think you're special." Lee smiled, his lips pulled back into a thin grin.
"You can't be serious."
"I am." Lee looked at Washington's desk. "You think you deserve all this privilege. I get it."
"Clearly you don't."
"You all think just because you're so oppressed—"
"Watch it, Lee," Laurens said from his seat, his voice hard.
"You too, Laurens?" Lee walked down the aisle, slowly approaching John. "You think Washington is great and you think it's so great to be all privileged and oppressed at the same time because of your... Condition."
"You only have the guts to say this after Washington leaves the room, coward," Alexander said, seething.
"I'm not the coward," he replied smugly. "If you're so proud of your little romance, prove it."
"What?"
"You think it's just so special that you're gay for each other and you're poor, Hamilton. And Jefferson thinks he's worth a million bucks, but you know what? He and Madison can go to hell. Well. They are going to hell. I'm in power and you think you can insult me to my face."
"Well. It's better than what you're doing," Alex said, walking shakily to meet Lee in between the rows of desks.
"And what's that?"
"Insulting everyone behind their backs. At least be straightforward. Decency must mean nothing to you."
"You want straightforward, Hamilton?" Lee's lip turned up in a snarl. "Alright. Washington is unstable, disorganized, and a joke. And, by the way, I'll bet you and Laurens have already gotten so far, his father would pop a blood vessel at the thought of it. You are disgusting. You are absolute—"
"Lee, please." A new speaker stood, and both Alexander and Lee spun to face him. Aaron Burr raised his eyebrows. "If Washington comes back to find blood..."
"Hamilton," Lee smiled at Alex, a disturbing look overtaking him. Laurens stood up.
Burr looked equal parts irritated and paranoid. He glared at Alexander, silently imploring his friend to show decency. "We both know this is absurd. Washington left orders."
There was a tense pause.
"Yes." Alex deflated. This one, simple condition stopped his fist from connecting with Lee's face— his position. He had worked so hard, come so far, and fought so valiantly for his status in the council. Disobeying Washington would undo everything he'd stood for— quite bluntly put, it would destroy his reputation. He looked at where he was. He looked at where he started. There was only one conclusion to draw as his fist fell limply to his side.
Alexander would have to throw away his shot.
Lee smiled, Burr looked surprised, and Laurens approached. Lee practically licked his lips with glee. "You two are—"
He was unable to finish his sentence.
In an instant, Lee was slammed into a nearby desk, and the taste of blood filled his mouth as hit after hit came upon him. The ground met him quickly. It was unclear who the assailant was— a sharp kick hit him in the side, which provoked him to shout a range of profanities and slurs at whoever was on top of him. Yells filled the air, the voices of Hamilton, Laurens, Burr, Lafayette, Mulligan, Madison, and Peggy overlapping in a cacophony that drowned out the hideous names Lee was calling his opponent.
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH—"
"YOU SHUT UP! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE—"
"Where the living hell is Washington?! Get up! Jesus Christ—"
"OH MY GOD, MON CHER, YOU FIGHT HARD—"
"HOLY FUCK, SOCK HIM!!"
"Oh my— I'll get the nurse...? I—"
"YOU GO!!!"
Suddenly, a single voice was heard above all.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the room, and Washington ran over, anger pulsating through him and into the air surrounding him. The fight ceased, and Lee was able to make out who had been fighting him.
There was silence.
"Burr, get a nurse for Lee."
"Yes, sir."
"Lee, you're not off the hook. We're talking tomorrow. You're dismissed. Leave."
With that, Lee shoved a half-limp John Laurens off of him, grabbing his bag and disappearing out the door.
"Laurens, go see the nurse and be back in twenty. Hamilton?"
"Sir?"
"Meet me outside."
Alexander felt the eyes of the council on him as he followed Washington into the empty hallway, the world around him seeming blurred and distorted. He had seen flashes of it— Laurens tackling Lee, taking Hamilton's place in the fight that was sure to have ensued. John's punches and kicks, surprisingly forceful and shockingly well-aimed. Lee's words. It all crashed over him, but he felt dizzy, out of sorts, and purely overcome by rage. Washington pulled him aside, and the pair stood in the stairwell below Angelica's poster. The crimson blended with the fluorescent lighting, matching the angry flush that was prominent on Washington's face.
"Son."
"Don't call me son," Alexander said stiffly, standing up straighter.
"This meeting's hard enough without infighting—"
"Lee called us out, you included, we called his bluff."
"You solve nothing!" Washington's eyebrows knit together with frustration. "You aggravate our council members all around."
"You're absolutely right, John should've kicked him in the mouth." Alex crossed his arms, glaring right at Washington. "That would've shut him up."
"Son."
"I'm not your son," Alex was growling at this point.
"Watch your tone. I'm not in need of your defending; you had orders."
"Charles Lee, anyone who follows him— they take your name, and they take everything the rest of us stand for, and they rake it through the mud."
"My name's been through a lot," Washington snapped. "I can take it."
"Well, I don't have your name, I don't have your titles, and the rest of us don't have your power. But, if you—"
"No."
"If you let us take command, and stand up to him, and put our plan into action, I could rise above my station and we could make progress—"
"Or you could waste the opportunity and get into fights, like today. And I need you on this council."
"I'm more than willing to fight for the right thing!" Alexander said, incredulous.
"Lee's uncle is the superintendent; we don't have much choice! We need you on this council."
"I'm—"
"Your friends need you on this council, son, I need you on this council!"
"Call me son one more time!"
The air turned to ice as Hamilton realized his mistake, his eyes widening with shame and withdrawal. The silence that hung between Washington and him was almost eerie.
"You and John Laurens will both be called in tomorrow morning for Saturday detention." Washington glared at Hamilton, his resolve shockingly overbearing. "Go home, Alexander. That's an order."
Alex was frozen with disbelief. "Sir—"
"Go home."