Chapter Text
Alexander Hamilton isn’t known for being quiet. He isn’t known for being placid, for being kind, or for being slow. He’s known for being loud, witty, fast, and smart. Mostly for being loud and smart. He has enemies, a lot of them, and he takes the phrase ‘pick your battles’ to mean ‘pick all battles.’ Even his dearest friends back up this description of him.
John Laurens isn’t known for anything. No one knows him. He’s brand new to Liberty University, a transfer from South Carolina, and once he meets Alex in their shared US History class, he sets a goal. That goal is to learn everything that he possibly can about the incredibly intelligent, attractive and intriguing boy sitting next to him.
He hadn’t gone into the class with that goal. He’d gone into the class like everyone else there, for the required credit. He hadn’t picked the seat next to Alex on purpose. He’d picked the only open seat.
He’d sat down, tucked his messenger bag under the seat and pulled out his Mac to take notes on. He’d then turned to his right to be met by a calculating stare and mesmerizing brown eyes.
Blinking quickly, he flashed the boy a quick smile before awkwardly turning back to his computer.
“Hello. Alexander Hamilton.” the boy said.
Turning back, John kept the smile on his face as he extended a hand for Alex to shake.
“John Laurens.”
John hadn’t meant to notice how warm Alexander’s hand was.
“Pleasure.” The boy- no, Alexander, replies with a brief smile.
Alexander turned his attention to the notebook and pen he held in his lap, so John took the opportunity to look him over.
He hadn’t mean to immediately notice his attractiveness, but he had. The boy had a chiseled jaw, with slight stubble- as John watched, his tongue darted out to wet his lips- and John hadn’t meant to swallow as hard as he did.
Alex’s hair, long like John’s own, was tied back in a messy ponytail. His skin was caramel-colored.
John flicked his eyes away as a voice sounded from the front of the room.
“Hello, students. Welcome to your first class of your third year of college. I am Professor George Washington, but please, call me Washington. I will be forcing you to learn as much about US History as you possibly can in this one year. First, before we start, some ground rules and general advice.”
John immediately noted how authoritative and commanding Washington was. He wasn’t intimidating, but as soon as he began to talk, you zeroed in on him. He was on the taller side, well-built with a kind face but fiery eyes. Instead of remaining stationary at the podium, he had disconnected the mic and was walking back in forth in front of the room- not pacing, just moving.
“I have printed the class syllabus for you all, as I know you’re all broke college students with minimal access to printers. That will be passed out shortly. In the meantime, we’re going to go over what is on it.”
John hadn’t noticed that Alexander’s hand had gone up until Washington was staring right at where John was sat.
Snapping his head around, his stomach tossed with uneasiness as Alexander cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
“Sir, Alexander Hamilton. I have a question.”
Someone muttered something from the row behind them and Alexander stiffened.
“Go on, son.”
“Why are we going over stuff on the syllabus without the syllabus? Do you not expect students to highlight or underline – whichever they prefer – the important parts of said document as expressed by yourself?” Alexander queried.
John noticed with slight amusement that Alexander didn’t intend on sassing Washington, or starting trouble. This was a genuine question that Alexander had thought pertinent to bring up.
A few people in the room snickered, and Washington silenced them with a hand.
“Alex here is correct. Thank you, son. One moment.”
Washington set the mic on the podium as he retreated to his desk, stationed in the corner of the room, and grabbed a stack of papers from a folder.
Washington handed the stack to the person on the very far end of the first row and murmured, “Pass it along, if you’d be so inclined.”
At that, Washington walked back over to where he had set the mic and picked it up again, leaning comfortably against the podium as the stack of syllabi made its way around the room.
When it reached Alexander and John, Alexander snatched one off the stack hungrily before handing it all to John. John grabbed one for himself and passed it off to his left.
Alexander had procured a highlighter seemingly from nowhere, and was already highlighting the course ID. Using his normal pen, he circled the ‘Professor George Washington’ and added a note that said ‘Washington’ in quotations.
John stifled a laugh. This boy was...something else.