SUMMARY: Fighting a war is hard. Fighting a war when his secret adopted son is also his Aide-De-Camp is even harder, but Washington has always found a way to beat the odds.
Unfortunately, Alexander is just a little bit too stubborn for his own good and, in a bout of stress-induced nightmares, almost causes the General more gray hairs than the British canons ever can.
__________
A/N: Okay, okay, I know I literally have 10 WIPs to work on for other fandoms but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone since I watched Hamilton on Disney+ a few weeks ago, so I hope you enjoy! :D
Just a little tidbit, I literally haven't written anything Hamilton related since I was 17 (I'm 21 now), so I apologize if this is rusty! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think and thank you guys for all the support and love, it means so much! <3
PS. In this AU, GWash adopted Alex a few days after Hamilton came to American when he was 10-years-old (I lowered the age to fit the storyline better) so Washington is Alexander's already adopted father when they go to war.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hamilton: An American Musical or any related material.
__________
It wasn't the first time Alexander had very nearly fallen asleep at his desk.
Being the General's personal aide-de-camp meant that the young man stayed after hours, sometimes almost until the early light of dawn, furiously brandishing his quill across parchment after parchment, working tirelessly to contact Congress for supplies for the slowly dwindling American troops.
This night was no different.
Through the flickering candlelight, George watches as Alexander finally seems to give into the fatigue clearly maining his young features, slumping against the top of his desk, nearly smushing his quill in-between his cheek and the wood underneath. Shaking his head, Washington carefully rises from his own desk, boots nearly silent as he comes around to Hamilton's other side.
"Alex--" George whispers, reaching out to gently shake his son's arm, careful to not startle the boy. "Come on, you'll be more comfortable in your bed."
Alexander grumbles, lifting his head. Ink is smeared down one cheek, his hair escaping from his ribbon down one side and Washington barely hesitates before reaching out, smoothing back the stubborn dark lock. Hamilton, for his part, just sighs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
He suddenly looks so much younger than his 17 years that George feels his heart skip, for just a second.
" 'm fine." The boy yawns, making a move to grab his quill, the feather shaking in his grip. "I just need to finish this message, sir. Only a-a moment--"
"No, son." Washington plucks the quill from his aide's fingers, ignoring the harsh sigh Alexander lets out. Reaching under his son's arms, the General practically hauls the boy up, nearly dragging Hamilton the last few feet to his cot. "It will be there in the morning."
"But--"
"Sleep."
Hamilton frowns, squaring his shoulders as he looks up at Washington. "If you'd just--"
"That's an order, Alexander."
The boy makes a move as to argue once more but, sensing this, George levels his best parental glare and Hamilton's jaw closes with an audible snap. The lack of a further argument is clearly a testament to how exhausted his charge is and George swallows down his worry, reaching down to fluff his son's thin pillow before settling Alexander onto the mattress.
YOU ARE READING
Right-Hand Of The Father
FanfictionA series revolving around the idea of Alexander Hamilton as George Washington's adopted son and how that affects them, both on the Revolution's battlefield, among their troops and in their personal lives as they struggle between familial bonds and t...
