The Press (Whamilton)

Ch. 11

Hey so before i go on with the chapter i should explain some things.

I wrote this entire thing within two weeks or so. Every update is copy and pasted from a google document that is already written up. Now, im running out of more chapters to write because i havent actually been writing this story further. I've just been copy and pasting what i already had written.

I don't have any motivation to write for this story anymore. I kinda lost interest.

So I could either stop writing for this story or I could put together a (most likely) horribly written ending that kinda ties everything up as much as I can. I guess you guys can leave your opinion in the comments if you want.

Sorry for not updating since june fucking eleventh

Enjoy the chapter

Washington heard a few gentle knocks at the door and frowned. He immediately thought it was Henry or Thomas, or maybe even the press. George didn't have the energy to get up and open the door. "Come in," He reluctantly called. Alexander opened the door and stepped inside. Washington huffed and sat up.

"The press thinks we're together. You need to fix that." Washington snapped. Alex frowned.

He spoke, "What do you mean I need to fix it? We need to fix it, George-"

Washington slammed his fist on the desk and shouted, "Don't call me that! You're below me, you talk formally. We aren't friends, Hamilton, we're colleagues! Shit like that is why the press thinks we're together! It's ridiculous!" Alex looked sincerely hurt as Washington yelled at him, and he almost wanted to cry at the intense glare he was receiving. Alexander gulped and sat up in his seat.

"I'll go to the public, tell them I'm currently dating Miss Schuyler, and then it'll all be over. You... Your reputation will be fine, Mr.President." Alexander snapped, but the threatening tone was empty and fake. Washington's glare softened a little and he stood up. He walked to the window and opened the blinds a little, looking outside in a bit of fear that somebody was watching them through the slits.

Washington muttered, "Are you a Miss Schuyler together? Is that true?" Alexander nodded a little.

He replied, "We're... close. And she won't mind anyway. She does like and enjoy my company anyway. We kissed even-" Alex stopped and looked at George. He had almost forgotten that him and George had kissed too. If Washington was just putting up an act, then of course he would be hurt about hearing that. But this isn't an act. He hates me. We're colleagues. Not friends. Not lovers. Colleagues. Alex cleared his throat and continued, "We haven't really said anything official yet, but, um, but I think we're together in a way."

Washington nodded and snapped, "Good. Now fix your shirt, pull your hair up, and go tell the press that." Alex slowly stood up. He was frozen there, just staring at Washington and waiting for some further words. Anything. Any sign that this wasn't real. Any sign that they were real. But Washington simply snapped his fingers for him to leave. Hamilton walked to the door, his footsteps echoing in the office.

Alexander walked down the stairs, wanting to cry. God, he was such a coward. They had never had anything in the first place, why was he being such a cry baby? Why was he acting like this? He walked outside and walked to the fence. Immediately he was confronted and interrogated by the press. Alexander held still, his eyes on the ground, or at least anywhere that the cameras weren't.

He took a deep breath, looked up into the camera, and explained, "Me and George Washington are just colleagues. Nothing more. Any kind of rumor or assumption like this is false and ridiculous to think of in the first place. I am currently in a romantic relationship with the head of the board of education, Miss Eliza Schuyler. Furthermore, I would like to point out that it's completely immature of Jefferson to call me out on any of the things I've said. If he'd like to call me out, say it to my goddamn face and not to all of your sexist disgusting followers on Twitter." Hamilton then shoved the reporters away and marched to his car.

The press tried asking further questions, but Alexander Hamilton slammed his foot on the gas and took off. He left the white house in the dust, and headed home.

Eliza Schuyler was sitting at home, her eyes wide as she watched the news. She couldn't believe he had said all of that. She got up and went to the kitchen. "Oh no Eliza!" She mocked, "I don't want you involved with the press! You stay here so I can DRAG YOU INTO THE ALIBI MESS ANYWAY!" Eliza grabbed a cup and threw it at the wall, shouting with rage, "THAT FUCKING IDIOT!" She panted and looked at the pieces of the cup. She began to cry, and slowly fell to her knees. "Dammit, Hamilton..." She whimpered.

Thomas Jefferson laughed hysterically as he watched the news, and wondered how the hell Alexander was even managing to get out of this mess a little bit. "Oh God, this is priceless! I gotta call Adams!" He giggled, grabbing his phone and calling said man. "Hey, babe," Jefferson giggled, "Come over, I'll open a couple bottles of wine, it'll be great... No press won't find out about us... Relax, ok? I'll see you soon." Jefferson hung up and turned up the volume on the TV.

George Washington sat at his desk, trying to read over reports from the last couple of meetings to keep his mind busy. But because Alexander talked the most, the notes were almost completely about him. His eyes were filled with tears, and his face was hot and blotchy and red. He looked like an idiot. George huffed and set the reports down. After a few seconds he glanced at the Chris Jackson book on the edge of the desk. He carefully picked it up, sniffled, and put it on the floor. George took his jacket off, folded it into a makeshift pillow, and laid his head down on the desk. He cried, wishing that Alexander were there to comfort him.