Lunchtime, Part 2, Alexander Hamilton x Reader
Prompt: Part 2 of Lunchtime
Author’s Note: Ah, the classic ‘creep hits on you at a bar and here comes prince charming to the rescue’ except prince charming is hammy and he’s horrible at being a prince and at being charming.
Warnings: Curse words, mentions of drinking/alcohol, dirt bag at a bar.
You passed your finals, Alex became busy at work again, you stole his shirts more often.
You didn’t tell any of the boys about the new development in your relationship. Hell, besides making out and the occasional dinner date, the two of you hardly talked about it.
In celebration of the end of a stressful semester for you and a hard few weeks of work for the boys, you all dressed up and spent the evening at your favorite bar. You all agreed to go rather light on the drinking, and just enjoy each other’s company.
You took up a corner booth, one farthest from the bar. You were two beers in when the boys all called for another. You rolled your eyes, collecting the glasses and weaving through the crowd to the bar.
A man in a white button up shirt took the spot next to you, ordering a round for his rowdy work buddies in a booth across the room. You avoided his gaze, and suddenly you wished you wore a cover up as you felt his eyes on you.
“I’ll get those for her.” Her told the bartender.
“No need, put it on my tab.” You insisted, forcing a smile.
“A girl with a tab! A woman after my own heart.” He joked, you smiled, trying to be polite. Sure, he was trying to pick up a girl while his breath reeked of alcohol, but he had yet to do or say anything distasteful.
He gave you his name, you smiled, but didn’t offer yours. You could hear his coworkers cheering him on as he stepped closer to you.
“I’m sorry, I’m not really interested. I’m just here with my friends.” You pointed to your booth, and grinned when he became slightly intimidated at the sight of them. It’s rather hard to feel manly when Hercules was in the room. No matter how many pants he sewed.
“You could come back to my booth? Get a few drinks in you, I’m sure you’ll forget about your friends.” He tried slinking his arm around you, but you quickly brushed it off.
“Please don’t touch me.”
A different arm wrapped around your waist. You leaned into it knowing it was Alexander.
“I’ll help you carry the drinks back, babe.” He coo’d, completely ignoring the dirt bag next to you. The dirt bag straightened at the appearance of Alexander, “Do you know this guy?”
“I don’t. He’s kind of giving me a hard time. Probably because his parents didn’t give him enough attention as a child. Or maybe he feels peer pressured by his coworkers to try and pick up unsuspecting, intoxicated women at bars.” You grinned, which Alexander returned sweetly.
The dirt bag visibly slouched at your words.
“What are you gonna do? Defend her honor?” He sneered, suddenly on defense mode.
“Nah, I’m sure she could kick your ass perfectly fine on her own. Like I said, I’m just here to help with the drinks.” With that, Alex handed you two glasses and took three for himself, ushering you away from the dumbfounded dirt bag at the bar.
You passed the drinks around, avoiding the grins your friends gave you.
“So,” Drawled Laurens, “When did you guys start fucking?”