(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

queen-of-the-kingdom asked
Can you write some Dark Washington? There's only like three fics with him and two of them are yours.

in the morning washington liked to run on the track on the top floor of the building. like most of the walls, the gym walls were glass, and the eightieth floor gave him a spectacular view of the city stretching under him. He often studied the sunrise. It was one of the few things that made him pensive, the soft orange that suffused through the streets, the rising hum of the collective awakening. he ran a towel over the back of his head. took a shower and then selected a suit for the dark, sleek grey, cut custom to him. a pocket square. his watch, which was persistently blinking alerts. It was more than possible, he considered, that Hamilton had messaged him when he had been asleep. He’d hired a man for it only to ring when Hamilton called him, and texts, images, and voice calls were silent.

a brief scan through his email to see if anything needed him before he got in the car. while he was in the elevator, his phone beeped.

Hamilton, A (5:23 AM)

are you in the car yet or just the elevator? i was thinking about hr 454 you should sent sullivan to talk to cushing whos sponsoring it they both went to darmouth



Washington, G (5:25 AM)

That’s a good idea. When are you going to be in the office?



Hamilton, A (5:25 am)

lol



He sighed at the answer and put the phone into his pocket. There was no way to predict if Hamilton would actually answer the question. Hamilton could have been anywhere: the office, his bed, a couch somewhere else. He had more than once been sent texts in the morning and then had Hamilton only text again hours later, often saying he didn’t remember the first message.

He liked being the first person in the office. He enjoyed the ritual of turning on lights, studying empty desks, looking through the glass windows into empty offices. His, he thought, nodding. He did good work, he thought. He did good work and had a good base of operations.

The sun was still rising into his office. He left the lights off and instead stared out of his window. The world was more awake than it had been when he left. Yet his office was silent.

This was the best time for thinking. There were no interruptions. He could stare out the window and let himself think. There was the past, to be learned from. And the future, to be conquered. And the present, to lay out one’s troops, and consider one’s plan.

The bill. Almost unknown, aside from some frustrating leftists who disliked the idea of large companies like his paying fewer taxes. Sullivan would be a better person to send to Cushing - he found it unlikely an older white man from Alabama, Dartmouth or no Dartmouth, would enjoy gently coerced by a well-dressed, well-spoken black man. But a nice white New Hampshirite - that would be a better tool. What did Cushing want? Like? Certainly some need could be found to fulfill. He needed Cushing to not bow under some complaining socialists.

At about 7;00 was his first meeting. He barely had a moment to himself, according to the calendar Hamilton had set for him today. There was a suspicious block indicated as ‘discuss the finer points of the benefits of a constitutional monarchy’ between 3-5pm, which he deleted.

At 9:30, which was reasonable, all things considered, Hamilton appeared, looking his normal dishevelledness. He didn’t look like he hadn’t slept, although perhaps it was that he always looked like he hadn’t slept.

“This guy won’t stop calling you,” Hamilton said, “Bob Dinwiddie? Who the fuck names these people?”

Washington audibly groaned, and Hamilton’s eyebrows went up.

“So he’s your best friend then.”

“One of the least likable Virginians you will ever meet.”

Hamilton laughed. “That’s rich. I know some pretty disagreeable Virginians.”

“I’m not talking to him.”

“He said you would say that. And then he said,” Hamilton puffed up his chest and made a overdramatic, face, adopting a comical accent with a lisp, “’If that self-important nobody from nowhere doesn’t talk to me, I’ll talk to my friends, and George won’t like it.” Then he shrunk down again and rolled his eyes. “I restrained myself from telling him to go fuck himself, but he wouldn’t have suffered from a good self-fucking with a porcupine or live wire.”

Washington sighed. He looked out the window. It was a very blue, beautiful day. “I have an open spot this afternoon. Tell him to come back then.”

“You’re busy this afternoon,” Hamilton said, pouting. There was a pause, as he looked down at his iPad, then looked aghast, “What about our discussion about the importance of constitutional monarchies!?”

Washington glanced over his shoulder. Hamilton shrugged. “Fine. Constitutional monarchies after Virginia dipshit. But let me tell you, we are going to cover a LOT of detail.” A beat. “Can’t we at least do something a little awful to him? You know, get his car towed or something?”

“I’d prefer him not to know I can get his car towed.”

Hamilton cleared his throat and stood up straighter, folding his iPad under his arm. “I will definitely not have his car towed,” he said, and turned on his heel. Washington shook his head, and looked down into the city, and thought about cars being towed, with some satisfaction.