A/N: so this took an eternity. Sorry 'bout that. I gotta start planning this story better. Real talk though; I love this incarnation of Alex. He's such an asshole. I love writing it.

Also I may write a fic for The 100. WHY IS THIS MY LIFE WHY ARE THESE MY CHOICES.

The one who depends on the services she renders
To those who come knocking
She's seeing too clearly what she can't be
What understanding defies

As it turns out, John knows several someones.

Eliza never understood exactly how, since John was not wealthy himself and wasn't really the type to concern himself with money nor the group of students at NYU who seemed to be perpetually flaunting their wealth.

But apparently, he had connections.

Which is how Eliza found herself at one of her least favorite places. The Grange was a popular bar near campus, crowded with students at all hours.

Angelica loved it, Peggy begged to go with her despite not being of legal age, but Eliza hated everything about the cheap beer, pounding music and endless cluster of people with whom she never felt she fit.

John dragged her by the hand, towards the dimly lit bar, and Eliza forced her feet into motion, dreading every second.

How was she even supposed to do this? How was she supposed to go up to someone she didn't even know and invite them to a quickie, convenience marriage? John had assured her that these people would say yes, but as someone who found it awkward to even ask someone out, she couldn't imagine how she'd go about doing this.

Once inside, she tries her best to block out the flurry of activity around her. Crowds had never been her thing, which was another thing she and John had in common.

They head over to a corner of the bar, where a group of men in Marc Jacobs clothes are pounding back beers while hunched over the bar.

Every instinct inside of Eliza is screaming that this is a terrible idea, but she pushes herself forward anyway.

Graduate. You've just gotta graduate. This is your only shot.

John introduces her with a flourish, to Hercules Mulligan. Towering and intimidating looking, but with kind brown eyes, he greets her with an immediate hug and she instantly likes him.

Next is Lafayette, a tall Frenchmen with wild, curly black hair, who insists she "call him Laf, bella,", to which Mulligan chortles and slaps him on the back.

"Wrong language, asshole!"

And lastly, to Alexander Hamilton, who doesn't so much as look at her. He's bent over a wrinkled piece of paper, scribbling furiously.

John pats him on the back and makes an introduction, and ignoring her is upgraded to a hand wave in her general direction.

Finally, John waits for a break when his pen is not touching the paper, and snatches it out from underneath.

That gets a reaction. Hamilton jumps up with an indignant "hey!" (and some other words).

John takes no notice, however.

"Elizabeth Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton. He's not quite versed in human traditions, so…"

John moves behind Hamilton and extends the young man's hand towards Eliza.

She dislikes this man upon first sight, but reminds herself, you need this. You need this degree. This is going to fix everything.

She takes his warm, sweaty hand, holding for a perfunctionary period before pulling back.

Alexander Hamilton is wiry and slight, with olive skin and dark hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His eyes carry dark bags under them, indicating many sleepless nights.

"Alex, Eliza here has a deal for you."

"Not interested. Now give me my paper back and let me get back to work."

She steals a glance at the paper and finds it titled "Sexism and Racism in 2015: Why We Are Worse Off Than Ever."

"You're a social work student," she guesses.

He gives a derisive snort. "Law."

Mulligan lays a hand on his shoulder. "Alex, new person. Try to at least act like a human around them."

"Whatever she's selling, I'm not interested. I am, however, interested in getting back to my paper."

John holds it out of his reach and for about the millionth time, she is eternally grateful for what a good friend he is.

"Hear her out or that paper is going to meet the same fate as your last abrasive one to congress."

"Feeding it to that stray was a dick move, Laurens."

"You called President Adams a useless insect that you hoped to see crushed under a boulder, Alex!"

"I was being kind. He deserves far worse. Now give it!"

Sweeping towards them, another man leans down to Alexander's side, a man who also sported wild hair like Lafayette, but whose face held none of the kindness of the other man.

"My humble upbringing in the Hamptons taught me to care about the little people," he sings mockingly.

Alexander's fists clench.

"Shut up, Jefferson," he growls.

"Soooo sympathetic," the man drawls. "Thank goodness for our savior Hamilton."

Every muscle in Alex's body tenses, and John takes this opportunity to whisper in his ear.

"Say yes to this, or I'll give that picture of you at the Renaissance fair to Jefferson."

Alex's face pales. "You wouldn't."

"I would. And the ones we took after you passed out drunk."

"You drew on my face! How is that my fault?"

"Hazing, Hamilton. Happens to everyone. Now listen to the girl. Who knows, you may even make a real friend."

With a great sigh (like it's such a hardship for this asshole to hear her out for five minutes), Alex turns to Eliza.

"I'm listening. You have three minutes. Or really, eighty-five seconds left. "

This better fucking work, Eliza groans internally as she gathers all her courage.

"Short version, I need a husband."

Alex nearly chokes on his drink. "What?!"

The words (she hadn't planned on this many words when she'd rehearsed this at home) tumble out of her before she can stop them.

"My dad spent all my money, I'm broke and I'm about to be kicked out, but if I got married, I would be eligible for bursaries and get to move into married housing."

Alex shakes his head in disbelief. His friends don't look much better, but they are incrementally leaning in, like twelve year olds at a school dance overhearing a breakup.

"And you want…you want me to marry you?"

"Just on paper," she stresses. "I just need to legally prove I have a husband, then I can finish school. Look, I know it's crazy, and I know I'm asking a lot of a stranger, but I'm kinda desperate here and I…I really need your help."

Jefferson swoops by again, his face radiating with smug delight.

"My dear, there's always the fine art of – "

"Shut up, Jefferson," she spits without looking at him.

"You don't even have to live with me. Just make it look like we're happily married every once in awhile. Then when I graduate, we have a quickie divorce."

Alex is silent for a long time.

"Please," she begs, the word tasting rotten in her mouth.

You need this you need this you need this.

Finally, he sits back and heaves a sigh.

"I'd need an agreement specifying the day we file for divorce."

Eliza is stunned. "Wha..what?"

"I don't want there to be anything you can hold over my head. I need a legal agreement stating you agree to divorce me on the day you graduate."

"I…okay."

"I'll have it drawn up. Meet me at the courthouse on Monday. Papers should be processed by Friday."

And just like that, it's done.

"What the fuck is his problem?" she asks John as they walk home, her stomach still twisted in knots.

She's still unable to believe that this actually worked.

Alex left soon after their arrangement was reached, much to her relief, but the others had insisted she stick around as they got increasingly drunk and, at one point, created a board and began planning a wedding for Eliza and Alex.

(They'd titled it "Alex+Eliza 4Eva #wuvtwuewuv", so Eliza's fairly certain they won't remember this tomorrow, and regrets that she'll miss the look on their faces when they discover that board again).

John shrugs. "He's really not so bad once you get to know him."

She snorts. "Yes, I'm sure that magnetic personality attracts people near and far to him. Girls must be falling all over themselves to get close."

"Oh no, he does fine in the romance department. I mean, he gets plenty. But they're always gone the next morning."

"That's odd," she muses.

John gives her an odd look.

"It's odd for a 25 year old college kid obsessed with his work to only want one night stands? We gotta get you out more, Eliza. Anyway, we just need him to actually do this. He's your ticket out. Which means, even if he's an asshole, you gotta suck it up if you want that degree."

She groans. "What have I gotten myself into?"

John nudges her shoulder with a smile. "I don't think any of us could imagine. Now come on, we have china patterns to pick out."

They meet the next day at a local coffee shop, titled "My Shot" to discuss legal arrangements. Alex isn't any friendlier without his friends around him, but maybe that'll be easier. She is already going into this knowing there are no feelings involved. It's more of a business arrangement then anything else. Hell, they don't even have to be friends.

Most married couples aren't, she can hear Angelica snark in her head.

"That's it, then. Tomorrow we go down to the courthouse and make it official."

"That will mean you will have to be in the same room with me for an extended period of time. Sure you can handle that?"

"Barely," he doesn't even look at her.

She's known this man for less than 48 hours, and is already increasingly bothered by him. Clearly the feeling is mutual, and that makes the curiosity inside her grow. And perhaps makes her a little tactless and foolish, because she can't stop herself from asking.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What?"

"Why did you agree to this? What's in it for you, if you hate me so much?"

"You probably shouldn't complain," he bites off. "Since this is getting you out of some deep shit too."

"Probably not. But call it curiosity," she pushes back. "You don't need the money, you see me as a distraction, you aren't keen to move into any type of housing that might distract you from your precious writings. So why are you saying yes?"

He pauses, and for awhile it seems like he's not going to answer. When he does, he doesn't look at her, but she can feel the set of his jawline, the coiling tension in his posture.

"Because it'll piss my folks off." He finally relents.

"Why do you hate them that much?"

"None of your damn business."

She clicks her tongue. "No way to talk to your fiancée."

"That's all you're getting, Schuyler."

She doesn't press after that. The discussion tapers off after a few minutes, and they part ways.

(However, she can't resist a parting shot, and so she sings "see you Friday, hubby!" over her shoulder.)

She asks John about Alex and his parents later, and he shrugs.

"Bad childhood? None of us know, Eliza. He just hates them. That's why I knew he'd jump at the opportunity to piss them off."

"He hasn't told you anything about them?"

"Just that he hates them. That's all anyone's heard. And you don't know Hamilton…when he doesn't want to talk about it, you can consider it dropped for good. Don't hold out much hope of uncovering long lost family secrets."

She waves a hand dismissively. "Just curious. We'll be divorced too quick for that to matter."

John bids her goodnight a few hours later, and she crawls into bed with a sigh.

Best to sleep now, she figures. Friday, she gets married.

The urge to run, the restlessness

The heart of stone I sometimes I get

The things I've done for foolish pride

The me that's never satisfied