Sup everyone! So I feel like I must express that there will be NO cheating. They are literal teenagers they will not be getting married in this fic. Sorry. Anyways this is a special chapter that focuses on the ball hosted a few days after the inauguration. Thanks to I AM A PHILIP for the idea. :)

"A party?" Alexander looked up at his father, aghast. "When?"

Washington glanced over at him. "The seventh. And yes, you have to go. It won't be bad. John Adams will be there, maybe you and him can talk." Oh yes. Marvelous. A stuffy, overly fancy party in which the only person whom he might be able to talk to was the vice president and his father. Hooray.

And thus commenced the preparations for the event. Alex discovered that there was far more to planning a party than simply getting dressed and going. His father was bombarded constantly with details about the thing, on top of the steady torrent of letters that flowed onto his desk about the country. In Alexander's opinion, dinner parties were something that should be hosted maybe twice a month at the most. Unfortunately most of the political community seemed to disagree.

When the day of the ball finally rolled around, Alex pulled on a dark green jacket, waistcoat, and breeches. The color stood out starkly against the white of his stockings and cravat. Gazing in the mirror, he paused to smooth his hair back rather self-consciously.

His father was waiting downstairs, dressed in his own fancy attire. "Ready, son?"

Heaving a sigh, Alexander replied, "Ready as I'll ever be."

The house where the ball was being held wasn't too far. A short fifteen minute drive. The whole way there was mostly silent, with his father gazing out the window and humming softly under his breath.

Alexander had been nodding off slightly when the carriage jolted to a stop. His head snapped up, and outside the window he saw a house ablaze with light. Every window glowed with light and music softly wafted from the building.

Giving Washington a plaintive look, Alexander pleaded, "Maybe you can just go in without me?" In response his father gripped his shoulder firmly and tugged him gently to the door.

A man answered the door, inclining his head. "President Washington." Looking down his nose at Alex, he asked, "And who might you be?"

"Alexander Hamilton-Washington. Pleasure to meet you." Alex took some smug satisfaction in seeing the man's disbelief.

When they entered the ballroom, silence fell, then a thunderous storm of clapping. Washington stood silent and tall, bending his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. Alexander stood back a bit, waiting to see how the room would react.

He breathed a soft sigh of relief when no one seemed to question his presence, only come up to him and his father and offer congratulations.

The sound of his name drew him back into the conversation.

"John, Abigail, this is my son, Alexander. Alexander, this is John and Abigail Adams." His father gestured to the man Alex had seen at the inauguration and the woman beside him.

"Pleasure to meet you." Alexander smiled politely.

"Why, isn't he sweet? How old is he, George?" Adams grinned jovially. He seemed to forget that Alexander was perfectly capable of speaking.

His father smiled tightly. He didn't respond. Alexander took it on himself to answer the question.

"I'm sixteen, Mr. Adams." Alexander bit out. Washington looked proud. He was clearly trying not to look proud, but he definitely looked proud.

Adams's expression quickly became a lot less friendly.

The party went for the most part as predicted. There was some dancing, which Alexander took part in gladly. Of course, during dinner things became a bit more interesting.

One thing that Alex quickly took note of was that his father was...drumming his knife and fork against the table. Washington quietly tapped out a rhythm, which earned some strange looks from John Adams, who was seated to his right. Alexander was on his left. And it took a lot of self-control to keep his sudden urge to burst out laughing in check.

Afterwards, Alexander would swear that it really was an accident. He hadn't meant to do it at all. Washington would give him that knowing look, and say he believed him, but they would both know better.

Alexander had politely excused himself for a brief moment to get some air. It was far too stuffy in the dining room. He had only meant to duck outside for a moment to the small garden behind the house, but apparently fate had other plans for him.

To get to the door, he had to walk behind John Adams's chair. Which really shouldn't have been a problem, save for the fact that the owner of the house happened to be fond of cats. There were three of them. The animals were supposed to be kept elsewhere during the party, but cats being cats, they always find a way to escape. One of them had made its way to the dining room.

The guilty cat was a tawny brown color that was very similar to that of the floorboards. It was crouching behind the vice president's chair, tail flicking casually, unaware of the havoc its presence was about to wreak.

Pushing his chair back, Alexander headed for the door at the far end of the room, taking no notice of the cat in his path. Because of this, he tripped over the poor animal, which let out an indignant meow and raced off.

To keep from falling on his face, Alex flung an arm sideways to grab hold of something, anything, to support him. He intended to grab the back of Adams's chair. But then again, things rarely ever go as planned.

The object that Alexander ended up grabbing was much too soft to be the wooden chair. What's more, he could feel it sliding backwards, which wouldn't have been something that the chair should've been able to do, what with the man currently occupying it.

When he had regained his balance and composure, Alexander glanced down at the object in his hand. It was most definitely not the back of a chair.

He had grabbed John Adams's wig, and pulled it nearly off his head, exposing the man's brown hair beneath. Hurriedly letting go and brushing his hand down the front of his waistcoat, Alexander stood stock still. No one made a sound.

Then, Abigail Adams snickered slightly. She was clearly trying to hold back gales of laughter. All around the table, more smiles slowly emerged and titters began to break out. Soon, nearly everyone except for Adams and Alexander were laughing.

Save for Washington. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with a fondly exasperated expression. Alexander grinned sheepishly and awkwardly tapped the vice president on the shoulder. "Sorry about that, Mr. Adams, sir."

The man glowered at him and huffed as he straightened his wig. Thankfully, for all parties the rest of the evening passed smoothly, with no more incidents involving cats and wigs. Sometime around midnight, Washington and Alexander climbed back into a carriage to head home.

"You know, I do believe you have a talent for getting yourself into trouble, son." Washington remarked offhandedly, examining his fingernails.

Alexander blushed to the roots of his hair.

Thanks again to I AM A PHILIP for the idea! Sorry that took so long, I will try to get another chapter up sooner, but no promises. I have band camp next week. Anyways, ignore all the historical inaccuracies. Please review, and I remain your most humble and obedient servant, RedCoatsRedder.