#they said the irl laf was an awkward person so heh

[matsumi101]

Who is this Kid?

Crossdressing Fem!Reader Hamilton Insert

The Art of Deception

Description:

Ghosts aren’t meant to be seen, but Alexander had to play the white knight in an unknowingly controlled situation.

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Warnings: swearing, drinking mentions, death mentions, awkward make-out session (it’s not what you think im sorry)

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Notes:

> Masterlist

> Read from the beginning.

> “F/N” means fake name and “Y/N” means your real first name

> This is more of a drabble really, answering the financial issues mentioned from the prior chapter

> There’s going to be a sudden shift of third person to second person in a paragraph, so keep an eye for that

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Taglist (if u wanna be added do tell!)

@thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth  @cutie1365 @girlmadeofivory @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore  @takemyhand-bitch @hamiltrashqueer​

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“Another one?” a fleeting voice whispered.

“Yeah, his body was found floating in a river,” another responded.

“This is the what? Third body?”

“Has anyone caught the culprit?”

“No, but whoever he is, he’s only targeting the redcoats.”

Rumors continued to float around the air from one mouth to another’s ears. At first they paid no mind to it, but when the gossips started to circulate within the tavern walls, they couldn’t help but grow curious. Who in the right mind would be going around taking down redcoats within the British-infested streets of New York? Someone apparently, and the public had yet to find out who this ghost is, and why their actions started only two weeks ago, long before the ball.

“Think it could be one of us?” Lafayette inquired.

“Possibly. Know someone within your group who’d do that?” Alexander replied thoughtfully, turning to look at Hercules.

The four men kept their voices hushed. They sat outside the tavern instead of being usually inside, knowing how dangerous the information they’re discussing was. Hercules shook his head, taking a long swig of his beer. “I know there’s history of tar and feathering Loyalists, but I don’t think we’ve gone so far as to murder soldiers,” he answered quietly, knowing that Alexander was referring to the Sons of Liberty. “Dude, the ones in Boston burned a whole-ass office over a decade ago,” Alexander pointed out, drumming his fingers on the table. “Anyways, whoever this guy is, he’s being really smart, and is apparently on our side.”

A few beats passed. “Yo, John,” Alexander spoke up. “You good?” The called man blinked, glancing up from his drink. “Yeah, just don’t want to drink too much right now,” he stifled an awkward cough. “I don’t want an reenactment of what happened to me and F/N tonight.” The three rightfully laughed at his statement, being the witnesses of the mess the two of them became the night after the ball. Though his reasoning was partially true, he was personally troubled by something more.

When he woke up from his afternoon sleep the day he forced you to rest, he was only greeted with an empty house. Your clothes were gone from the clothesline where he left them to dry, and his own clothes that you borrowed were folded neatly at the guestroom’s bed, which was also fixed up. Any trace of your presence was gone, aside from the plate of dinner and a thank you note you left on his table before you left early evening. You had stolen away the papers and ink as well, but John didn’t mind that last bit, if it meant getting the chance of getting some contact with you.

A couple passed by, the girl giggling at whatever her drunken redcoat partner had said. Naturally, the guys shot the man heated glares, and they weren’t being subtle about it. The British soldier caught their looks, and just as his face contorted to that of fury, the woman pulled him away. She whispered something to him, her gloved hand over his ear, and the man’s lopsided grin appeared again. He snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close and shying her away from the group’s view. As they walked away, Alexander threw out an insult at them.

The woman nearly froze at his voice, but she kept her composure and continued her pace. She turned her head, but before she could even get a view of the table the soldier leaned onto her, almost causing them to stumble. “You going to keep staring at them love or are we going to have a good time?” the man crooned, and it took all your will not to slap him across the face. Instead, you curled your mouth to a sultry smile, trailing your fingers up from his chest to his jaw.

“Excited, are we?”

“Mmm, very.”

Since you were now some distance away, the squad had already lost interest, except for John. It was dark out, so your features were barely visible, but he couldn’t help but stare to double check. He paid no attention to whatever topic his friends brought up, his straining his eyes to look at you deal with the heavily intoxicated enemy soldier. He watched as the man pulled you into the alleyway, and when you pushed some curled hair off to reveal your familiar eyes was then his assumptions were fully confirmed.

“Y/N...”

“Wait what?!”

John flinched, not realizing that he had said it out loud. He turned back to his friends, their eyes as wide as his, if not, bigger. “Laurens, did we hear you right?” Lafayette was the first to speak. “That it was Y/N who’s with the redcoat?” John stuttered, trying to find his words. He would’ve been immediately honest, but right now he had to cover you up. You established how much you were avoiding interaction with him and the other soldiers, but right now his slip-up was difficult to make an excuse out of.

“Wait, what if Y/N’s in trouble?” Alexander concluded.

Panic was strewn across John’s face. He was about to speak, but Alexander beat him to it. “She might be being held at gunpoint by that lobsterback! We have to help her!” Alexander declared, already standing up. “Wait, Alexander-!” Hercules tried to pull Alexander back to his seat, but Alexander dodged his hand and was stalking over to the alleyway where you disappeared. John was the first to chase him down, followed by Hercules, and then Lafayette.

“Alexander!”

The exclamation was all but a whisper when Hercules managed to pull the shorter man back before he could turn the corner, firmly clasping a hand over Alexander’s mouth to keep him from making too loud of a noise. He pressed his back against the wall, wrapping his other arm around Alexander so he wouldn’t thrash around too much for him to handle. John and Lafeyette followed suit, with Lafayette moving to the other building just behind an empty cart.

“Alex, I’m going to be real straight with you,” Hercules whispered to the man struggling in his hold, “if that girl really is Y/N, I don’t think she’d be going around with a British so openly without a reason. She might be in an undercover mission. Take it from me.”

Not waiting to interpret whatever Alexander said through his hand, Hercules peered into the alleyway. John was craning his neck in front of him, while Alexander tried to look from where he was. The night was already dark as it is, but with little to no light in the small space it was hard to make out what was happening there. Hercules squinted his eyes at the two figures moving in the darkness, trying to register what was happening. When he did though, he was only able to let out a tiny “oh” of surprise and distaste.

You were pinned to the wall, the drunken man peppering your lips and neck with the sloppiest kisses you could ever imagine. You could normally deal with that and the reeking scent of alcohol and tobacco lingering in men’s mouths and clothes, but the godforsaken dash of red draped around this soldier was reminding you endlessly of what kind of person you were making out with, and it was both a blessing and a curse as it helped you remember why you were doing this.

The soldier grazed his tongue over your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. You breathed out a no, earning a displeased noise reverberating from the man’s throat. He dug his nails painfully into your hips, making you squeak at the uncomfortable sensation. He took this opportunity and roughly shoved his tongue into your mouth, muffling whatever noise of protest you were going to make. You had to make a move now if you wanted to get out of this situation soon, and hopefully as discreetly as possible. Your hand reached over for the top of the crate to your right, trying to grab on the item sitting on top, but it was a shy inch away for you to comfortably reach for it.

Sighing internally, you tried to move a bit closer without being obvious, but just as you were about to get your fingers wrapped around the object, a series of yelps and screams caused you to miss your aim and instead pushed the object further away. The man parted away from you, and before he could process anything a hand reached out for him and pulled him back completely. His vice-like grip on you was released, and the next thing you knew there were more yelling.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

“What the hell?”

“The bloody fuck are you?!”

“Dude, stop!”

“You’re harassing her you shit!”

“Well aren’t you one nosy little fuck! This ain’t your business, gremlin.”

“What did you call me?!”

“What, you deaf as you are short?”

“Oh, you’re asking for it!”

“Alexander!”

Alexander was just about ready to swing a punch at the British soldier, but in the split second before his knuckles could make contact with the Brit’s nose, there was a loud wham that was immediately followed by the redcoat dropping to the ground. He stepped back, staring at the now unconscious man that remained unmoving by his feet. After a beat of silence, Hercules, John, and Lafayette finally went out from their hiding spots (though at this point hiding was useless as they’ve been screaming alongside Alexander), having watched the whole thing unfold.

“Are you stupid?”

You were panting as you leaned on the broken wooden railing that you’ve been trying to reach for earlier. You pushed your hair from your face slicked with sweat, careful not to push them above your head, as you glared disapprovingly at Alexander. The rest of the group went up behind him, awe and familiarity written all over their faces at the sight of you. “That man,” you pushed yourself up to wave the pole over to the body on the floor, “had a gun in his person-”

“I told you she was held at gunpoint!” Alexander interjected.

You stared at him with disbelief. “I—that wasn’t the point you dumb fuck!” you screeched, causing Alexander to flinch. Hercules whistled lowly at your cussing while Lafayette had a disapproving eyebrow raised. John remained silent, not really wanting to react outwardly at the moment. “First of all, I wasn’t helpless. I got the situation under control. Secondly, you tried to fistfight an armed man, and quite frankly I don’t want it to be your corpse I’m seeing floating down the river tonight, Hamilton,” you chided. Alexander gawked with slowly widening eyes, his mind already piecing everything together in that very moment.

“Wait a second,” he breathed. “The rumors, those were you?!”

You hummed nonchalantly, already bent down and rifling through the man’s coats. “Where the fuck is it,” you mumbled angrily, frantically searching for something in his pockets. Alexander took another step back, not really wanting to be within range if you decided to swing the pole again at someone. After a few moments, you pulled out a small pouch and a slightly wrinkled envelope.

“Whoo! This one’s loaded,” you chirped, weighing the pouch in one hand.

You stood up, opening the pouch to reveal that it was filled with coins. You threw a few pence at Hercules, who fumbled to catch it in surprise at your actions. “Your next round’s on me,” you announced with a wink at him. You stepped over the body to Alexander, who nearly stepped back again as you had the piece of railing in your hand once more. You pressed the letter to his chest, and he instinctively placed a hand over it to keep it from falling.

“The General might find this useful, but keep me anonymous and we won’t have a problem.”

Having stepped a bit out of the alleyway, one could notice that there was a light layer of makeup covering your face. Your lipstick was now smeared across one side of your cheek, but none of the boys had the courage to point it out. “Do we have an agreement, Hamilton?” you hummed impatiently. You still had your own hand on the letter, ready to rip it from the man’s grasp if he ever declines.

“Y-yeah...” Alexander cleared his throat. “I mean, yes, of course.”

You nodded approvingly, pulling away from him. “I suppose we don’t need any reintroductions,” you said decisively, glancing over to everyone. They already saw how you looked at the ball, so you did your best to mimic that look every time you went out in a dress.

You looked back at Alexander. “Hamilton,” you murmured with a nod. “Mulligan.” You turned to Hercules, who gave a slow, confirming nod. “Lafayette.” You couldn’t help but smirk just by a fraction when the said man lit up at your recognition of him. Last was John, and unlike the first three, your gaze stayed. Your eyes met, and the worries that the man held shone through despite the darkness. And yet, it was a second too long for the others not to grow suspicious of your silence.

“Laurens,” you finally said.

You picked yourself up much faster than John, facing the rest the second you composed yourself. “Took me a bit to remember,” you lied smoothly, and hadn’t John known your real reason for your lingering gaze he would’ve believed you as well. You turned around, looking down at the still unconscious redcoat. “I suppose this one can live,” you mused quietly. You wordlessly dragged the body over to the crate, ignoring the questioning stares behind you.

You propped the man so that he sat slouching over the crate. You tipped his hat over his eyes, then taking the flask you found clipped to his belt. You took a sip first before pouring some on the floor, making a crooked trail that made its way to the redcoat’s boots and pants then finally ending it near his hand. You placed the flask in his hand, keeping it uncapped and tilted so that there was a bit of liquor dripping to the floor. You stepped back, careful with your dress to make sure it didn’t dip onto the spilled alcohol.

You hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the scene that you made. “Does he look like a passed-out drunk?” you inquired casually, turning your head to the guys. Surprisingly, they were silent the entire time you were doing this. “I’m sure flasks don’t spill as much like that, but other than that I think you got what you wanted,” Alexander answered readily. You hummed again, thanking him for his input.

“So... this is what you do? Seduce British men and murder them in cold blood within the dark of the night?” Alexander then followed up.

“Only the ones with information.”

You glanced down at the pouch that you looted from the body. “It pays nicely, too,” you humored, tossing the bag once. “How are you getting away with all this?” John was the next to ask. He was genuinely curious, and it seemed like it was a mutual question for everyone. You glanced at him, then to the others. “Do you really think people would assume someone that could be compared to a harlot would be capable enough of doing these things?” you asked rhetorically. You eyed them, scanning for their reactions, then huffing when they didn’t respond.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

You picked up the railing that had been lying on the ground, dragging it back to the top of the crate. “Now, it’s best for everyone to move along,” you advised. You looked at Alexander, your eyes narrowing to a glare. “I’m trying to stay hidden, and talking to you four is the exact opposite of it.” Alexander looked like he was overly offended, picking up the fact that you were glaring right at him. “Hold on, why are you angry at just me?” he hissed.

“You, monsieur, nearly ruined my mission, that’s why!”

You heard a quiet “I told you so” that was covered by a cough, and you could only assume it was from Hercules based on how Alexander glared at the other man. “Regardless, the next time you see me, day or night, don’t even dare to approach me without a good reason,” you warned, walking away. The four men watched you head to the other street, with Lafayette noticing the stains that lined the bottom of your skirt like a mundane decoration in place of the laces or ribbons. It was riddled with dirt, blood, and whatever else it could’ve picked up along your way.

“Mademoiselle.”

Everyone moved to face Lafayette. The Frenchman shuffled uncomfortably, having realized that he called you before he could reconsider his choice, or what to say next. “Would you like a new dress sewn?” he offered almost shyly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his sudden offer, consciously looking down at your seemingly fine outfit before going back to him. “What’s wrong with my dress now?” you asked, biting back the aggressive tone that almost slipped out of your tongue.

“Nothing, ange! It’s just that, it would appear that you’ve worn that for quite a while now... and I thought... maybe you’d need another one.”

Now he wasn’t exactly wrong, considering that you packed lightly. You bit your lip, contemplating on the risks. “You’re paying for the tailor?” you assumed, looking at Hercules knowingly. Lafayette seemed to catch your gaze and followed it. “Of course! This tailleur will take good care of you!” he assured, slinging an arm over Hercules. You smiled, the first genuine one that night, but it quickly disappeared when your eyes trailed over to John. The freckled man helplessly shrugged, leaving the choice entirely up to you.

I did say I’d agree to even a bit of help... you thought.

“Okay, then.”

You turned around again, hiding the smile creeping to your face. “I’ll be at the shop at one in the afternoon in two days,” you told them loud enough to hear. You walked away, hearing their voices call after you. “Do you even know where the shop is?” Hercules asked worriedly. You snickered, waving a hand over your shoulder.

“I know enough about all of you as much as you know nothing of me.”

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And you weren’t lying about that. Two days later, you found yourself in front of a familiar tailor shop a minute before one. You moved your hand up, hesitating to open the oak wood door painted in a relaxing deep blue. You took a deep sigh to calm yourself, wanting to get the measurements done as quickly as possible. I can do this, you mentally chanted, pushing the door open.

The shopkeeper’s bell chimed happily above, and the person sitting on the reception table lowered the newspaper to reveal that he was Hercules. He grinned widely, his bored expression dissolving almost instantly at the sight of you. “Y/N! Nice to see you again,” he greeted cheerily, moving around the table to meet you. You smiled just as warmly, stretching a hand out for a handshake, but to your surprise Hercules went to kiss your knuckles. It was then you had to remind yourself who you presented yourself as.

“Always a pleasure to grace your presence with my own,” you teased.

Hercules laughed, letting go of your hand. “Confident, couldn’t expect less from you,” he shot back humorously, and you giggled. After hanging your coat, he led you to the dressing room, which was a lot larger than you anticipated, where he instructed you to take your dress and scarf off while he left to get some things to get your measurements. You were left with only your shifts and corset. You stared at the mirror on the wall, tracing the toned muscles of your arms.

“Okay, I’m back...”

You looked over your shoulder through the mirror and saw Hercules gaping at you. “So, do you gawk at every female customer you have to measure or am I just that special?” you sassed after a few seconds of standing still. You watched Hercules awkwardly shake himself awake, the paranoia building up inside you. Despite your remark, deep down you felt a little insecure and vulnerable. Being physically exposed made you feel like you were emotionally exposed as well, and it didn’t put you in any form of ease.

“I-I, sorry. It’s just that...” Hercules coughed embarrassedly. “Well, at least I know that the guy from two nights ago wouldn’t have been awake ‘til morning after you knocked him out.”

You chuckled. “Thanks, I guess,” you sighed. Hercules began to take your measurements, his awkwardness dissipating as he now focused on making sure he got everything right. He made no snarky comment on your muscled body, and for that you were thankful. He didn’t at all speak about it until he was now measuring your arms for the sleeves.

“Do you want me to keep the sleeves loose?” he asked.

You blinked, your unreadable gaze meeting his expecting one. “That would be nice,” you mumbled bleakly. Hercules nodded wordlessly, jotting something down on his papers before resuming. The measuring continued in silence until Hercules spoke up again.

“I might be intruding with this, but I’ve taken plenty of people’s measurements enough to understand if someone’s conscious of their body or not, and I think it’s safe to say you’re one of them.”

You looked at Hercules again. “Imagine my shock when I saw how muscular you are, and don’t get me wrong, it was a pleasant surprise,” he began. “I’m pretty sure you can clock someone in the face without staggering, and that’s really cool.” You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his enthusiasm. “But it’s making you insecure. Why?”

“It... doesn’t make me very lady-looking.”

You inhaled sharply, expecting Hercules to laugh loudly at your pathetic reasoning. Instead, he nodded understandingly. “Well, it doesn’t hinder you from having every lobsterback you come across wrapped around your fingers, and the events from the other night proved that quite well.” he noted quietly, writing something down on his paper. “Perhaps, but sometimes I can’t help it,” you admitted. “I may’ve gotten their attention, but between you and me I never really let my mission come any close to being bed by them.” Hercules hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, it’s my job to make you pretty dresses, and I’ll make sure my designs will compensate for what you think you lack,” he assured. “Though, in my own opinion, I think you look perfect, Y/N.”

You glanced at him, smirking slightly. “I’m flattered, Herc,” you muttered, placing a hand over your chest with an exaggerated look to hide the fact that you were actually moved with his encouragement. Hercules rolled his eyes, picking up his things. “Now I feel like you said that just to milk more compliments out of me,” he mused jokingly, ducking out of the dressing room. You huffed, picking up your dress you kept on a stool. “Even if I did, I wasn’t the one that brought the topic up,” you shot back.

“Fair point,” Hercules agreed, “but I’m serious about what I said. If someone says otherwise, just punch them in the face.”

“I might seriously consider that if I wasn’t keeping a low profile,” you hummed as you put your dress back on.

You could hear Hercules’ laugh coming from somewhere in the shop. after getting fully dressed, you checked to make sure your makeup was still intact before framing your face with some of your hair and wrapping your neck with your scarf. When you exited the dressing room, Hercules was about to pass by you. He casually pinched your cheek before heading back to the front desk, and you growled at his action.

“What was that for?!” you hissed.

“No reason,” Hecules replied cheekily.

You glared at him, returning to the front to get your coat from the rack. “I’d love to keep you here and talk, but considering the circumstances it’d best you leave soon,” Hercules pointed out. You nodded in agreement, looking over to the snow-covered streets outside. You knew about his current job past being just a tailor's apprentice, and quite frankly it wasn't safe to talk about it at all. When did you get the time to know about his status as a spy? You knew about it because John told you about it, and Hercules must've understood that you could be trusted enough.

You strode over to Hercules, pulling a small envelope and sliding it over the desk. Hercules was quick to snatch the envelope, tucking it under the books stacked on the table without looking even the tiniest bit tense.

“Some information, and a request with my dress if you don’t mind that,” you whispered.

Hercules nodded, a store clerk smile etched to his face. “You can come back for one of your dresses in a week,” he informed. “There’s an unclaimed dress that would suit you well, I just need to adjust it.” You nodded and turned to leave, but then faced him again.

“Dresses?” you repeated.

“Yep!” Hercules confirmed. “Lafayette paid me to make you three, and I’ll be damned by my mentor if we didn’t take that order,” explained. You opened your mouth to protest with it, but Hercules spoke again before you could. “All’s paid in full, and we have a strict no refund policy here.” You glared at him disbelievingly, but he merely shrugged.

“I smell bullshit, Herc.”

“Must be the cattle farm a few blocks away.”

“You boys are unbelievable.”

“That’s how we are, doll. I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

Hercules winked, picking up the newspaper that he was reading earlier ago. “Now, let’s move along,” he sang, mimicking your words from before. “Yeah, we should,” you agreed with the same mocking tone. You pulled the door open, the cold air forcing itself into the warm place as the bell rung softly. You glanced over your shoulder, noting that Hercules was back to the position you saw him when you first entered the place.

You wondered what would happen in the next few days, hopefully nothing too eventful.