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This had been an ongoing theme for a while now. At first, Alexander Hamilton had just been caught sneaking through the window when it was a little earlier than he thought at night.
Blame it on the shorter days that came with winter—that always made the exact hour feel confusing.
Anyway, Eliza at first, was shocked to see her husband just coming in through the window when she had been reading a book on the bed, waiting to see if he might return from work for once.
Usually at this point it seemed that he spent entire nights in a row, or even weeks, at his office, but this was just a misconception.
Apparently, the treasurer was just really subtle about sneaking in at late hours, sleeping for a little, and sneaking back out quietly before she had managed to awake.
It was really only a matter of time before he was to get caught, but Eliza couldn’t help but be surprised upon finding out that he had managed this habit for at least a month before he had gotten caught by her, possibly even longer.
(Her husband really was not good with time in the slightest , let her tell you that).
After this encounter, it seemed that the man had only gotten more comfortable with using windows as his mode of entry to the house in contrast to using the doors—like a normal person.
Now, since they just about never had guests, this wasn’t a true issue. The immigrant had the ability to tell when the public around them were most active and when they weren’t likely to notice when he’d sneak in (to his own home), and he was rather quiet about it, so an issue hadn’t come up because of it.
Fast forward to now : a new issue had arisen, as Alexander immediately seemed to notice.
In retrospect, he should have noticed something was up as soon as he felt aware of the fact that the president hadn’t checked up on him as frequently as he usually seemed to.
He tried to convince himself it was a sign that Washington was finally suspecting less concerning health from him, but since when would his former general change his mind on something like that?
With how much he seemed to pay attention to the secretary in comparison to his other staff, with a notable fatherly presence that Alexander so frequently wanted to ignore? Yeah right.
But he just had to try to give someone the benefit of the doubt for once in his life.
Now here Alexander was, having entered his house the way he (and Eliza) had grown accustomed to —that was, through the window—and he was just about half-way through it before making eye contact with Washington.
A heads-up would’ve been largely appreciated, but that wasn’t exactly possible without Washington being the one to warn him, considering how his dearest wife was always at home busy with their children.
“Hamilton?” The former general (and current president) sounded stunned . “What business do you have entering your own home like that? Do you not have your own house keys, son? The door was not locked either, should I add.”
Alexander felt an embarrassed blush creep up his cheeks, forcing himself to ignore the ‘son’ title. “Your Excellency…To what do I owe the pleasure of you visiting my home.?” He decided to enter the rest of the way in through the window, should any stranger catch sight of his rear poking out of his house window on the other side.
“I was having a discussion with your wife about your health—She failed to inform me of your…peculiar methods of entering the home.” Washington raised an eyebrow at Eliza, who didn’t meet his gaze, possibly just as embarrassed as the immigrant.
“Apologies, Mr. President…I had gotten used to him entering the house this way, so I lacked the hindsight to consider it important enough to inform you of.” She answered truthfully, which might’ve just incriminated Alexander more.
Judging by Washington’s expression, that was a fair assessment to make. “Gotten used to it—Alexander, when did you start doing this? How often do you do this?”
It was like that time he had first gotten caught by Eliza, but so much worse. “Some months ago…I forget the exact date, sir, but at this point in time it might be the main method I take advantage of to enter the house..? I find it to be quieter than using the door.”
Washington let out an exasperated sigh. “Son,” He began; “I’m not your son.” Alexander interrupted. “Alexander,” He corrected; “I find it hard to believe that this” The former general gestured to the still-open window; “is any more efficient than using the door—what made you start doing this?”
“Well, if I am to be honest, I originally just entered through the window of Eliza and I’s bedroom, which was a matter of not alerting anyone that I was in the house when I returned from rather late nights at work, and exited the same way in the early mornings. One day, Eliza had caught me, and I slowly got more comfortable with just using windows instead of doors.” The treasurer explained.
That must’ve not been the explanation that Washington had hoped for, because he seemed to immediately start investigating Alexander even more. “Late nights, early mornings—How much sleep are you getting , son?” Back to the son thing then. An argument could surely be brewing.
“At least a few hours every night, and I’m not your son. There is no need for you to act as though you are an overbearing father worried for my health.” Alexander crossed his arms.
“I can worry about my own secretary and former aide as I damn please, son. Just because we are no longer in a war does not mean you get to disregard your commander.” Washington stood from where he was sitting and stepped closer to said former aide.
“Be glad that I get any sleep at all every night. You know how I can get about my work, which is trying to make this country better, but Jefferson keeps it from working.”
“Figuring out your bills is your own problem, son, but I will not permit you to die from a lack of efficient sleep over it.” His tone was getting more serious.
Alexander took a step back, despite his own defense demeanor. “You stop calling me “son” or I swear–”
Washington interrupted him before he could do anything. “Or what? Alexander? I am your president: your commander, and have been your general for years. You have no business telling me what to do, but I sure can tell you what to do.”
Eliza had subtly exited the room at this point to make some calming tea—who knew that such a mundane topic such as where from the house Alexander entered could turn into an argument?
“Well you can’t tell me to go home this time, can you? Because I am already in it! So what are you going to say to me yelling at you not to call me “son” this time, huh?!” Alexander could taste the immaturity from his own lips, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.
Before he could fully react, Washington grabbed him by the arm and dragged him up to his room, which took longer than liked for the general since he didn’t actually know what any of the rooms were, but once there, he forced the immigrant to sit on the bed.
“Never in my life have I seen you act—” Washington cut himself off. “Scratch that. The last time I have seen you act so childish was when you kept demanding over and over again that you get a command.”
“I still deserved that command.” Alexander notably crossed his arms in a childish manner at that.
“Let it go. The war is over.” The general hissed before changing the topic so that they couldn’t linger on it for too long. “My point is that you’re acting childish simply because you think that you have immunity to consequences if you have a short attitude with me now—because I lack the ability to send you away like I had during the war.”
The Secretary of Treasury only nodded at that. “Well I can still bar you from being allowed to work if you keep up the attitude—And before you claim that I can’t bring myself to fire you so you would just work in secret, I can always take on personal watch of you, and have you sit right in my office doing nothing but sleeping.”
That got Alexander to have a more distressed reaction. “But sir— my bill! Jefferson’s stupid plans that someone needs to prevent from happening!”
He wasn’t about to comment on said stupid plans, but the distressed reaction let him know that he was succeeding at getting the immigrant to listen to what he was saying.
Carefully, Washington placed a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “Then stop having these immature behaviors with me and just listen . You need rest. This habit of sneaking in and out of windows has me concerned for you.”
“Compared to my past sleep habits—” Alexander wasn’t able to finish that sentence.
“Compared to your sleep habits during the war, just about anything is better. That does not mean I will approve of it. I want you to have a proper sleeping schedule no matter the bill you need to work on, even if I’m keeping an eye on it myself.” Washington used his more commanding tone for that.
Clearly it made the treasurer uncomfortable though, because it seemed that he wanted to say something about it that he hadn’t before already.
But he wasn’t saying it on his own. “Alexander, do you need to tell me something that you’re failing to already?”
Alexander sighed. “Even back in the war your concern seemed to cause rumors; rumors that even now seem to persist. If you take accountability for my health any further, what will people say that can be used against us, against you?”
That was a good argument, but Washington really couldn’t imagine any rumor to be more important than his secretary’s health, which was what he reiterated to him. “You know well enough that those rumors will never prevent me from being attentive towards your health, son.”
This time, the immigrant didn’t even feel the need to hold back the argument on the title; he was just too tired at this point to be truly bothered by it.
“Sleep can be difficult to want, even if I somehow lack things to do, sir. After the war, after losing John—after Laf went back to France…I have no one I can rely on to stay a true friend; you appear to be my only ally here.” Alexander brought his arms around himself.
Washington’s face softened at those words. “What are you trying to tell me? I will allow you to consider me a close enough level to be a friend as well, Alexander.”
The amount of times this conversation has used his first name instead of “Hamilton!” made that feel strangely obvious.
“Nightmares…About the war, about losing all my current power, about what might happen if one of my actual enemies like Jefferson gained enough power to just force me out of office forever…All these things make me worry and have poor dreams.” Opening up wasn’t exactly the norm for the secretary either, so to say the general imagined he’d be talking about this couldn’t be further from the truth.
Still, the president sat down right beside his former aide and ran a hand down his back as a comforting gesture. “I understand, son. I understand…” He moved the younger man closer towards him. “...But that won’t be helped by refusing to sleep. You still need it.”
Even though Alexander frowned, he nodded in agreement.
“Is there anything I can do to help you sleep easier? Perhaps meetings would go more smoothly if my Secretary of Treasury was less deprived of rest.” Washington suggested with a lighthearted tone.
“Maybe…If I give you reason to suspect I keep not sleeping sufficiently, you’ll have to go through with that threat of having me sleep in our office.” Not that he was endorsing it or anything, but Alexander secretly felt safer near his commander.
At that time, Eliza entered the room with a tray and some cups of tea. “There you men are—I’ve been struggling with utmost frustration trying to locate you both before the tea could go cold. Hurry up and drink some; it’ll calm the nerves, and is best served hot.”
Both men exchanged looks with a small smile and each took a cup of tea with a smile. “Thank you.”
About a week later Hamilton had decided a bit later in the day than he usually did to try entering his office through the window instead of the front doorway.
Unfortunately for him, not only was Washington somehow expectantly waiting in his office for him to show up by the window, but the president’s presence had also attracted the attention of both Jefferson and Burr to wait with him to see what he was doing.
And just like when he was caught by his former general, he was about half-way through the window before he made eye contact with both of his rivals.
Though, since it was a more busy hour, Hamilton managed to snap out of his daze and hurry the rest of his way through the window.
“So…Gentlemen…What are we waiting in my office for?”
“You.” Washington stated blankly.
“Apparently.” Jefferson and Burr echoed.
Both men definitely expected some form of explanation, but that’d have to wait, since Washington grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him away, probably to make good on that threat of ensuring Hamilton actually gets some rest.
“The hell was that about?” Jefferson asked first.
“Don’t ask me—Hamilton has plenty of secrets that he seems to have no interest in sharing with me, or really anyone for that matter.” Burr answered.
“Well if the president was that expectant to catch him, then it must be related to an actual issue.”
“An issue on entering through windows? I don’t think Hamilton’s managing to break them as he does that.”
The two men continued to bicker and ponder over what could possibly have gone wrong between the two, but in the end couldn’t truly agree on an answer.
Meanwhile Hamilton was finally being forced to take a well-needed nap in the office of his former general. There was a couch in that office that somehow felt like it was specially designed for this purpose, especially when Washington pulled out a blanket from underneath it, and draped it over the overworked treasurer.
“Now all that’s left is to keep him peacefully asleep for a few hours, and to reinforce the windows to make sure he stops sneaking in through them, for here at least.”
Washington could try to respect what worked for Hamilton at home, but he wasn’t too keen on having potentially unsecured windows in his residence, which made up this office.