Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

28 of September of 2023

A day the Washintongs are always gonna remember.

The day their lives changed upside down.

There was Lafayette.

Alone.

Inside his house.

Trying to solve his fucking chemestry assigment.

And by that I mean he was scrolling on his tik tok hitting his vape, the cigars left his clothes and room smelling like shit.

And then it happened.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

How still use the conventional phone nowadays?

Groning, he directed himself to the upper living room.

-Hello?-

-Yes, Is this the Wshintong’s?-

Laff could hear police sirens and chatting.

-Depending on who's asking.-

They weren't allowed to tell why they live, you know…politics.

-This is social services.-

What the hell?

I mean.

What.the.hell.

He is adopted.

Lafayette's parents died in an attempt back in France back in 2005 when he was 2.

The Washintongs adopted him after fostering him for 2 years.

So there is no way social services are calling because of him.

-Yes, this George Washintong, what is the reason for your call, may I ask?-

He said trying to hide his french accent.

-Yes, ummm you adopted a kid back in 2009 right?-

-That's correct-

-Yeah so, we saw you never retired your request of fostering or adopting another kid and we kinda need you help Senator Washintong.-

-Why didn't you call my assistant. Wait, how did you get my number?-

-We think this far more important, so we had to talk persona-

-I'm going to repeat my question again, social service dude. How did you get my number?-

He knows that his dad would never interrupt someone while he's talking, even more, he would never say dude or be rude, but Laf had many reasons to be.

He was tired.
Why are social services calling him if he is already legally adopted?
He needs to finish that fucking chemestry thing before midnight or he is going to get a 0. And George and Marth were gonna to be pissed.

-My chief gave it to me, we think you and your family are the best option for this.-

-For what?-

-Our case of Alexander Hamil-

-What?-

-We need an emergency placement for a immigrant kid called Alexander Hamilton.-

-Emergency placement?-

-Yes Senator, the thing is that his last umm 7 placements have not worked do to…issues…-

What is this dude talking about?

-What kind of issues?-

-Umm…abuse-

Well shit.

-Mr Washintong we really need your help with this kid, just temporary. You don't have to adopt him or anything, please or we will have to send him back to the Caribbean and he will end up probably in the streets. Just until we find a permanent placement, please.-

-Umm, nono, yeah I mean sure, umm sorry could you repeat this kids name?-

-Alexander Hamilton.-

Now this is fucked up.

Why did he even pick up the phone?

Now he has to decide if he has to save some kid.

-How old is he?-

-12, sir.-

Two years younger.

Now Laffayette, think.

The house is pretty sad when Goeroge and Marth are out and your friends can't come over since they are on vacation.

And you can have a friend when you are punished and don't get bored all day.

Also you can save a life?...

That would look good in a college essay.

I mean, what could go wrong?

-Yeah, sure we will gladly foster him, come to my direction XXX/XXX/XXX-

-Thanks Sir Mr Senator Washinotng sir!-

-His agent Chars Lee will be there with him and his information as soon as possible!-

Before he could close the phone he heard a “Ugh, finally-”

The fuck?

…

Okay it's okay.

Everything is okay

…

What the fuck he just did?

…

Did it actually happen?

…

HOW THE FUCK IS HE GOING TO EXPLAI IT TO GEORGE AND MARTH?! MERDE.

…

-Hey Laff, we're home. Where are you honey?-

They're back.

…

Shit.

Chapter Text

Alexander Hamilton doesn't like many things.

Alexander has never liked men, they are too rude, too big, too unpredictable, and too mean, but his brother…oh James… he is the only man in this world that he is ever going to love with his heart and soul. He didn’t like women either. They were dangerous, too loud, too mean, too hurtful, too scary, but his mother…oh his sweet mom. She's the only woman he's ever going to love with his heart and soul.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

Alexander also doesn’t like other things, like loud noises because they mean trouble or disorganization. After all, that meant trouble. He doesn’t like when people chew with their mouths open, and he doesn’t like any type of rain.

But Alexander Hamilton doesn’t hate only outside things. He also hated himself.

He hated how his mouth once never silenced had become completely mute. Or how fat people at his last homes called him. He hated how intelligent he was because he knew all of this was wrong and still thought it was because of him...he doesn’t hate all of his body tho. Only his hair, forehead, and cheeks that are far too skinny, and his teeth, um. His arms were far too bruised, and his rib cage was like a mosaic of colors. His nails were far too damaged because of his anxiety, and his legs...couldn’t bear his legs. They were like these wood sticks that looked like any moment would break. He didn’t like his accent because it reminded him that he was a dirty immigrant.

He was proud of his perfect understanding of Spanish and French. But that meant he was bragging about himself.

He didn’t deserve that.

He hated how every hurtful word spit at him was the pure truth. And it scared him. But he didn’t fight. He lost it a long time ago.

And now he fucked up again. He couldn’t even do his job correctly. Mr Renolds and his wife and children were having a lovely dinner that he had cooked while he was outside wearing a t-shirt and fixing the garden some teenagers had destroyed at the massive party Mr. Renolds' older son had two days ago.

That was the moment he decided he didn’t like teenagers, at all.

But he must have done something wrong because everything turned black.

And just like that, he woke up by many men and women dressed in hospital scrubs touching his body.

They were touching him.

He knew that he would be punished by not staying put and quiet.

He was scared because there were a lot of loud noises and many people.

Like the hurricane...

His body reacted faster than his mind.

Alexander was sobbing, screaming, crying, and trying to get away.

He could hear the voices, but he couldn’t get the words.

He was panicking.

And just like that, he felt a little pinch in his arm and was out.

-.-..-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-

-Chief, this kid won the lottery with the people that will be fostering him, right kiddo?- Mr Charls Lee asked him.

He just stared with frightful eyes at him inside the car. He was hugging his body. He didn't have anything. Not a bag. Not cloths. No faith.
All of that was taken as evidence for the police.

They were in the parking lot at the Hospital, Alexander sitting in the back seat, far away in the corner. He didn’t like being in a small space with any men. When Mr Charls Lee opened and closed the door, it made Alex's heart hit his throat.

His chest was closed.

His eyes watered.

His heart was pounding in his ears.

And the only thought his stupid brain could think was:

“No…not again….please”

He can’t do this again.

He's going to die this time.

Mr Charles was staring at him. His eyes were hateful and harsh. But our Alexander was used to it by now.

However, it didn’t make him any less scared.

He was alone.

Inside a box that moved.

With a man.

Tears began to form in his eyes, but Charles Lee didn’t bother to look back. He wanted to get rid of him.

Everyone did.

.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-..-.-.-.-

-Here we are Alexander! Senator Washintong's place-
Charles Lee said while the gates were opening.

Oh no.

It has been 3 hours by car from The Hospital to this person's house. Well, it was a one-and-a-half-hour drive, you know, New York Traffic.

-Get your ass out of the car. Make me proud Alexander.- Said the older man glaring at him. Which only made Alexander want to die.

The house was big.

Alexander is going to do a lot of cleaning.

Alexander has no clothes. All of them were in his last foster parent's house because they were searching for evidence. These were some old government clothes that the hospital had given him. A total charity case.

He didn’t have time to react when Mr Charles grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the front door, where he rang the doorbell.

-Now Alexander, you have my number. If something happens JUST FUCKING CALL ME. I have so much paperwork work to do because you can't open your fucking mouth. Geez Alexander. YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE ME LOSE MY JOB. These are good people, Alexander, so don’t blow it away!-

This made Alexander freeze.

He didn’t like screaming.

He didn’t like being touched.

And he certainly didn’t like the image of the family that opened the door just when Mr Charles stopped talking.

Chapter Text

Sooo... funny story.
I accidentally took a little nap... and then somehow woke up 2 YEARS LATER.

Honestly, I just closed my eyes for a second and the next thing I know — boom — time skipped like I was in a Disney movie or a bad sci-fi plot.

BUT GUESS WHO'S BACK?!
Yes, it’s me, your long lost author/friend/random internet person who literally vanished.

First of all:
I AM SO SORRY for disappearing
I really had intentions on finishing this fic.
Life happened. Procrastination happened. And before I knew it, here we are.

BUT NOW
I’m awake. I’m caffeinated.
And ready to finally bring this story back to life

If you're still here reading this:
I love you.
You're a real one.
Get ready — Chapter 3 AND 4 are coming TODAY!

Currently wrestling with my brain while editing Chapter 3!
Since I’ve left this fic sitting for... way too long (I’m so sorry), I’ve decided to make it up to you all by starting with weekly updates for now!
As a little “I’m back” present, I’m dropping 2 chapters today!
If weekly starts getting overwhelming, I’ll let you know and might switch to bi-weekly — but for now, we’re back on track!
Thank you so much for sticking around.

Stay tuned. We’re picking up right where we left off.

Chapter Text

The living room smelled faintly of old books and cold coffee, an oddly comforting scent amid the tension that now filled the space. I sat rigid in my favorite armchair, arms crossed tightly, trying to keep my thoughts collected even as frustration simmered beneath the surface. Martha leaned against the doorframe, her posture weary but steady, eyes flicking between Lafayette and me with quiet concern. Lafayette himself flopped dramatically onto the couch, his phone abandoned beside him as if it had no place in this moment.

“So wait,” I finally broke the silence, voice low but edged with disbelief, “you just agreed? Without even consulting us first?”

Lafayette rolled his eyes, the motion heavy with teenage exasperation as he drummed his fingers against the worn fabric of the couch. “Yeah. Because who else was supposed to say yes? Social services called me out of the blue—there’s a kid, twelve years old, tossed around like some damn tennis ball, and they needed someone to take him. I didn’t have time for a family council.”

Martha pushed off the doorframe, folding her arms with the air of someone who had heard far too much before breakfast. “But don’t you realize what this entails? You’re fifteen yourself, Laff. That’s barely being a child.”

“Exactly,” he shot back, voice rising a notch, “so don’t expect me to suddenly become some saint or miracle worker. I didn’t ask for this. I’m just trying to stop the kid from ending up on the street because you two are too scared to say yes.”

I rubbed my temples, willing myself to remain calm. “It’s not fear, it’s responsibility. What do you actually know about him? How can we be sure he’ll be safe here? What if he runs away, or worse?”

He scoffed, voice dripping with impatience. “You think he hasn’t already run away? Or worse? From what I’ve heard, the kid’s life is already a mess. So yeah, maybe you’re afraid of the chaos coming into our quiet house, but what about him? You know how silent it gets when you’re both gone. He could use some company, even if it’s temporary.”

Martha’s eyes softened briefly, but her tone remained firm. “Lafayette, where exactly is he supposed to sleep?”

Lafayette waved a dismissive hand. “Guest room. It’s empty. The only option. I don’t even know what ‘temporary’ means—could be a week, a month, maybe longer. But it’s better than nothing.”

I exhaled slowly, tension easing just a fraction. “Very well. The guest room it is. But we do this properly. No surprises.”

Lafayette smirked, the faintest edge of mockery in his voice. “Surprises? You’re acting like this is the end of the world.”

Martha smiled slightly, a hint of patience returning. “None of this is easy, Laff. We’re just trying to figure out how to make it work.”

He threw his hands up in exaggerated surrender. “Well, figure it out fast. I’m just tired of people getting screwed over.”

I stood, stretching muscles stiff from the weight of the conversation. “Then let’s begin with the guest room. It’s been collecting dust for months.”

Lafayette groaned but rolled off the couch. “Finally, some action. I’ll get the vacuum.”

As we set to work, the atmosphere began to shift. Lafayette tossed pillows and sheets, while I wiped down furniture that hadn’t been touched in too long.

Martha’s voice broke the quiet, soft and careful. “Do you think he’ll like it here?”

Lafayette shrugged, a shadow crossing his features. “I don’t know. But it’s better than the hospital or wherever he’s been stuck before.”

I nodded slowly, considering. “We won’t fix everything, but perhaps we can offer him a place to start. A foundation, however fragile.”

Lafayette glanced around the room, the reality of the situation settling over him like a weight. “Yeah. One messy step at a time.”

Martha smiled gently, folding a blanket with quiet resolve. “That’s all anyone can do.”

I chuckled softly, the sound unfamiliar in the heavy room. “Welcome to the family, kid. Hopefully, this time, it sticks.”

Lafayette shot us both a sarcastic grin. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me now.”

Despite the humor, a small flicker of hope warmed the space—a fragile beginning amidst the uncertainty.