One Shots-Hamilton-Mixed Ships

Closed Doors-Hamburr

Warnings: Language mostly.

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Alexander Hamilton lived in an old apartment building in New York City.

Or at least, he was about to. He had just moved in, brand new to the entire city. It was a bit daunting but if anyone could handle it, it would be him. He was Alexander Hamilton and he was going to do it all.

He walked into the building and glanced around, it was your typical apartment building, nothing special about it at all. Bare walls, minimum effort at decor, worn floors, but at least it had an elevator. Hamilton appreciated the fact that he could just ride down the lift and not have to worry about tripping on the stairs in a sleep deprived state and dying.

The fiddled with the gleaming key in his hand. He lived here now. He really was in New York and surviving. Well, only one way for it to really sink in, he had to flop on to his new bed. Hamilton stepped forward and jabbed the up button for the elevator. He could take the stairs but he had luggage and that didn't sound fun for the tenth floor, so elevator it was. The doors slid open, classic elevator music bidding him welcome as he stepped inside and repeatedly jammed the doors close button impatiently. The door started to slide close when a voice called out, "Wait! Hold the door!" The stranger shoved his foot between the doors, preventing them from closing. He flashed a smile in greeting at Hamilton as he entered before whipping out his phone and typing away importantly.

Well, okay then.

"What floor are you heading to?" Hamilton asked, getting ready to push the according button.

"Ten," came the reply.

"Oh, that's my floor too!" Hamilton said excitedly.

The person glanced at him and back at his phone, "I don't recognize you, just move in?"

"That's right, the name is Alexander Hamilton."

The man looked up from his phone long enough to firmly shake Hamilton's hand, "Aaron Burr. Pleasure." And right back to his phone.

The elevator opened and dumped them out onto their floor, cutting off any further attempt at conversation. Burr immediately put away his phone, wished Hamilton well, and set off in the opposite direction Hamilton was going.

Well. Wasn't terribly bad for first encounters. Plus, he was handsome, bonus points.

***

Hamilton settled into his new life in New York, constantly at work, running back forth from his apartment to his office. Some would call him a mad man.

He made some friends though, Mulligan was the first person he really became acquainted with, he was his next door neighbor. Mulligan had come over one day with a welcome basket and gave him a quick tour of New York. It wasn't long before they were hanging out every Saturday night.

The strange thing was that the guy Hamilton had met in the elevator, Aaron Burr, seemed to work at the same law firm that he did so they always seemed to end up on the elevator at the same time on their way home. Hamilton always left obnoxiously early so he didn't see him in the morning, but every evening, just like clockwork, Hamilton would step into the elevator and right as the doors would begin to close, he'd hear a familiar shout asking to hold the door.

Every time.

Which is why Hamilton wasn't surprised when it happened again today. "Wait! Hold the door!" Then a foot would be jammed in the elevator doors and he'd step inside, smiling slightly in greeting.

"Alexander," he said happily.

"Aaron Burr, sir," Hamilton nodded. Then two seconds later, Burr would whip out his phone and get lost in the sea of letters he scrolled through. It was starting to get annoying. Burr seemed like a cool guy and Hamilton really wanted to get to know him, not to mention he was kinda hot.