Hey! Life got busy between updates, but I've got a few more for y'all. I think I'm going to leave the prompt box closed for a bit, but if it re-opens the title of the work will change. Thanks, and enjoy!

First off, from Shelleybee456: Could you do a modern au one about Angelica Hamilton (hams daughter) and Georges de Lafayette (lafs son) going on a date?

(This probably isn't quite what you had in mind, but I have no idea what those two's personalities were like, so we'll go with an outsider perspective.)

"Alexander, mon ami, you will not believe my news!"

Alexander glanced up as his friend burst through the door to his office and collapsed into the chair across his desk.

"What?"

"Georges has found a cher!"

Alexander's face broke into a smile, and he set his stack of documents aside. "Yeah?"

"Oui! He is going on a date this evening, and you will never guess with whom."

"Not that young lady from his work."

"Non…" Lafayette paused for clear dramatic effect. "He is going with your daughter, Angelica!"

"He's...Ange?" Alexander sat up. "Angie never said she had...how…?"

"Do not fret, Alexander. They are going for a nice dinner, very classy. I'm sure she just didn't know how to tell you."

"It's a nice place?"

"Oui."

"All right then," he half-sighed, half-laughed with a shake of his head. "This ought to be interesting."

From guest Hi: Could you do an AU where modern music exists in Hamilton's time and Angelica, Peggy, and Eliza are writing the song "The Schuyler Sisters?"

Ever since she and her sisters were little, Eliza could remember singing with them. On their way to the park, in the church choir, even doing chores-music became their own language. And her favorite of all was their song.

She can't remember exactly why they created it, but it became their thing, almost a catchphrase. It was silly enough to have them laughing by the end, and classic enough that they kept the joke going for years. Her favorite part, though, was the actual writing of it.

It was a sort of spur-of-the-moment type thing. The three of them were playing as their mother sat at the piano. Out of the cacophony of noises, the eldest of the girls' voice, no older than eight or nine, rang out.

"Angelica!" She held out the note, and their mother paused at the keys with a laugh. Eliza, ever-adoring her sister, copied with her own name, and Peggy tacked hers to the end when she realized the game.

"The Schuyler sisters!" Their mother sang, and her hands started up at the piano in a new melody, this one trying its best to accompany her daughters' voices as they threw out whatever lyrics they could think of. It was a messy way to write a song, and so unorganized that Eliza couldn't believe they'd managed to pick one beat and stick with it, but they had.

As times changed, so did the song. History happened in Manhattan, their home became the greatest city in the world, and Thomas Jefferson was promised a rightful lecture. Even now, Eliza thought, the improvisations they made as their lives changed were what made them seem to turn for the better. She'd never forget the way Angelica had taken to introducing them at every family gathering, or the eye-roll Peggy would give at the inside joke that would follow her forever.

A knock at her door broke her out of her reverie. Peggy poked her head in.

"Want to head downtown?"

From a guest reviewer: Could you do a war scene?

Laurens is...exhausted.

Among other things, of course. He's covered in chilblains. He aches with hunger and malnutrition. His head pounds incessantly, even as he struggles to control the shake of his hand around a quill. He's freezing. Everyone in their crowded tents are freezing.

The ink on the damn page freezes as he tries to write, and his quill scratches against the parchment dully. He collapses against his chair with a groan.

There's a rustle of canvas as his tent flap is pulled open, and a hand rests on his shoulder.

"How goes the battle?"

The voice belongs to Alexander. John scoffs into his sleeve. "The real battle is out there."

"You and I both know this carries just as much importance."

John looks up and meets Alex's eyes, just as tired but laced with determination. There's a stack of paper clutched in one hand.

"Are those…?"

"It's only a first draft," Alexander says, and hands them over. John flips through in disbelief. He and Alexander are trudging together towards the same goal: essays upon essays opposing slavery. How Alex managed to finish thirty pages of one when he'd only just started the night before was beyond him.

"You know," Alex says, and takes a seat across from him. "You look terrible."

John laughs hoarsely. "I'm no exception. Everyone here is going to die of starvation before the redcoats ever get us."

"Maybe. I've been trying to get Congress to…" Alexander cuts off as he's overtaken by a round of hacking coughs. John thumps him on the back, hard, and they cease. Silence overtakes the tent as worry lines groove their way onto Laurens' face. Alexander has never handled sickness well, and this is no exception. After a long pause, he gets up to retrieve a cup of water and peer outside the tent. Their weary men are huddled together in the thick snow, eyes squeezed shut and meager fires dwindling here and there across the valley. They need help, and fast.

But for now, that will have to wait.

"Here," he says, and shoves the cup into Alexander's hands. "Drink, and rest with me."

"I'm fine," Alex insists, even as he lets Laurens lead him over to the worn cot. John doesn't miss the way he curls in on himself once he's lying down.

"Nonsense. We both need sleep and company." John crawls into bed beside him and wraps the thin blanket around the two of them as best he can.

He's still freezing, but the way Alexander nestles closer, his nose pressing into Laurens' collarbone, makes the bitter cold all the more bearable.

These are unedited and pretty rough but I have another Zoom call to get to, so I'll just leave 'em here. Thank you for reading, and feel free to review! Validation is chicken soup for the soul, y'all. :)