Chapter 3: The Place to Be

Hercules Mulligan was a young man with an impressive work ethic. Always a joker, but never a slacker. If he was ever late, it would be because he almost died. He always came to work on time, rain or shine. Hercules was a long time chef at one of New York's best restaurants, The Valley Forge Outpost. The Outpost, as the staff called it, was one of the top-rated restaurants in the entire country and he was proud of that. He rarely ever missed a minute at work, he was so proud to be there.

Today, however, he came in slightly later than he usually would and his co-workers noticed immediately. He had a very good reason as to why he was late, however. He'd just meet a very interesting person whose name rang a very particular bell. No one called him out on his tardiness until about an hour before they opened. The staff always have a staff meeting with before opening. The owner of the restaurant, former Senator George Washington, sat at the head of the table with the cooking staff on the right side of the table and the wait staff on the left side. The last thing Washington did before dismissing everyone was to call him out on his out of character tardiness.

Hercules, being as honest as he was dependable, told the truth, "I ran into someone on the way here. We talked for a bit and parted ways. Left him our business card."

The chef could feel the confusion waft off of his co-workers at the mention of the business card. Hercules never gave out business cards. He was more likely to quit than give someone a business card. Washington raised a questioning eyebrow at him and the young man decided to continue.

"Sir, have you ever heard of an Alexander Hamilton?"

The table was swarmed with shocked gasps and confused whispers. After a minute, Washington raised a hand and everyone went quiet. He turned back to Hercules, "Are you sure, Hercules ?"

"Positive, sir."

Washington leaned back in his chair, "... I heard that The Caribbean Spitfire Chef was in New York, but so close... You told him to stop by?"

"I did. I wouldn't expect to see him today, though."

"I see... We're opening soon. Places, everyone."

The staff nodded and went to work. Hercules could feel the rest of the staff looking at him out of the corners of their eyes when they thought that he wasn't paying attention. He strode into the kitchen and got to work. He was probably only the third best of the five chefs and the fifth best out of everyone on the payroll, but he did his job well. He cooked great food, went home, slept, came to work; was, rinse, repeat.

If he was being honest, he kinda forgot about the supposed Caribbean Spitfire Chef until about a week later.

It was near closing time and Hercules was on a short break while making a group of new customers feel welcome. Making them laugh and suggesting what to get, the usual. He was about to head into the back room for a bit when a familiar looking brunette walked through the door. The chef appraised the younger one as he waited to be seated. He was dressed simply, a white button-up shirt with a dark green hooded jacket and black jeans with very worn out shoes. He looked like he hadn't slept well the last week and, if Hercules was foolish enough to believe the rumors, it was because the young spitfire had spent the last few days tracking down, killing, and preparing some exotic animal for his next outrageously delicious meal. He was escorted to a table near the back next to a large window. He thanked the waiter and looked over the menu.

Hercules walked up to the culinary student, "Well if this isn't a surprise."

Alexander Hamilton jumped and looked up at him, recognizing him almost immediately, "Oh! Mr. Mull-! Uh. I-i mean Hercules. How are you?"

The professional chef chuckled at the slip-up and sat across from the student, "I'm fine, Alexander. I didn't expect to see you today."

"I honestly didn't expect to be here. I was walking by and saw the sign. I didn't have the time to look up this place this week, midterms coming up and all. When I saw the sign, I figured I'd stop by and look around, you know?"

"I get it, bud, don't worry. Trust me, this place has some of the best food in the city. You won't be disappointed."

Alexander smirked, "Are you just saying that because you work here?"

"Hmm. Maybe. I'll tell yo-"

"Hercules, stop flirting with the customers. Your break is up."

The accused flirt turned to the waiter that had seemingly come out of nowhere. The waiter in question was none other than his friend Marquis de Lafayette. The Frenchman had some weird ability to sense when Hercules' break was over, so he stood to leave.

"Well, back to work with me. Laf, take care of Alexander, he's new around here. And Alexander, enjoy your meal."

He left the famous culinary student and a shocked looking head waiter as he quickly dashed into the kitchen. He washed his hands and started on an order. He really was the third best chef there. The first and second spots belonged to his friend, John Laurens, and his definitely not friend, Thomas Jefferson, and he was a big enough man to admit it; speaking in a figurative sense, of course.

About five minutes into working, Lafayette rushed up to him, smacked him upside the head, and whisper-yelled at him, "Why didn't you say it was him before?!"

John looked over from the soup he was stirring, "Who?"

Hercules sighed, "Alexander Hamilton is here and Laf is upset I didn't tell him until I left. Jay! Take over this, I'll cut."

Everyone fumbled for a second at the mention of the infamous culinary student before kicking it into gear again. He moved between people and started cutting various vegetables for various orders. Anyone that came back to watch the chefs' work would be impressed by how well they worked together. Lafayette posted Alexander's order with a quick "Don't mess this up" before dashing out into the fray again. John and Thomas worked together, for the most part, to make it. He glanced at their work and noticed Thomas cooking lamb. As much as Thomas wasn't his favorite person in the room, his ability to cook lamb almost perfectly was ridiculous. Washington walked in and looked everyone over.

"Hercules."

"Yes, sir?"

"Why are most of the staff on edge since you got off break?"

"Alexander Hamilton is here, sir. He just walked in as my break ended."

"... Is that so?"

"Yes, sir."

"... Hercules, go make him comfortable. Everyone else, stay on task. This could be an important night for us."

"Yes, sir!"

Hercules set his stuff down and headed back out. He had a pretty good idea as to what his employer had in mind and he was interested in how it would go. He walked up to Alexander, who was looking over the dessert menu with a hungry eye. So he was a sweet lover; they were going to get along well.

He retook his seat across from the student and smiled, "Got a sweet tooth, Alexander?"

The young man jumped and looked up from the menu, "Oh, um, yeah. I'm trying to save money and I already ordered something kinda expensive, so..."

"Hey, I'll tell you what. I'm the pastry guy. You tell me what you'd like and I'll give you a price. It doesn't even have to be on the menu. Go on. Try me."

Alexander eyed him for a minute or two with intensely critical brown eyes. Hercules figured that he was trying to get a feeling out of him.

"... Key lime pie."

A favorite on the menu and a personal recipe of his. "Five bucks a slice.

"... Deal."

Hercules stood and rushed into the kitchen. Their key lime pie actually was his family's; Washington openly encouraged people to say if they had an option for the menu. When the key lime pie went up, people loved it and it became one of their staples. He'd made twelve fresh that morning and there were only a few slices left. He grabbed the largest slice and headed back to Alexander. The young student had gotten his meal; lamb chops and a Cesar salad; and appeared to be thoroughly enjoying it. He saw him approach and practically drooled at the sight of the pie. Hercules set the pie in front of the student and smiled, "Enjoying your meal, Alexander?"

Alexander simply nodded and kept eating as if his life depended on it. Actually, the more he looked at the young man, the more he noticed things that didn't look well out of context. His unusually small frame, his thin arms, the bags under his eyes, the fact he was acting like he hadn't eaten in days. None of it looked good without more story to it. He was able to keep the growing worry from his face as Alexander finished his meal and moved onto the pie. At the first bite, he practically melted.

"Oh Dios mío..."

Hercules couldn't help but chuckle, "I take it you like it?"

"Dude, I could marry this pie. Merde, it's good."

The pie was gone in a matter of seconds and Alexander looked completely pleased.

"I think I found where I'm getting my key lime pie for the rest of my life."

He chuckled and stood, "Good to know you like it so much. Need anything else or would you like your check?"

"I'll take my check please."

He nodded and went to the kitchen. He grabbed Lafayette as he exited and told him to ring up Alexander's dinner. The Frenchman nodded and headed off. He walked the rest of the way into the kitchen and started helping with the cleanup. He stopped cleaning for a split second and saw Alexander look back as he was leaving. Hercules smiled and waved to the smaller man and he shyly smiled and gave him a small wave. The culinary student stepped out the door into the night and he couldn't help but wish him well.