Twiddle Thumbs, an Austin and Ally one-shot
I do not own Austin and Ally.
(Guest Prompt: established Auslly where they are trying to find a hobby they can do as a couple)
"So. Bored," Austin groans, throwing his apple into the air. He catches it, tosses it again.
Ally intercepts. Well, she tries to, but she's never been the most agile, and the apple falls to the ground, bruised.
He looks at her. Then the apple. Back to her.
That was his snack.
"Ooh, an apple!" Dez walks in, plucking it off the ground. He should be angry that his best friend interrupted their date. Because you know, they're so busy.
He knows one way they could have kept busy.
If only a certain somebody wasn't in the room.
"Dez, that's gross." She wrinkles her nose, watching him take a bite.
"I'll say. There's a giant bruise."
Her eyes move away from him. Partly because he's taken another bite (when's the last time they mopped the floor?) and partly because she's just so bored. They've gone through her set list plenty of times, and all she wants to do is relax.
Relaxation is boring.
Are his thumbs actually twiddling?
They really need a hobby.
She passes by a new store in the mall, Clay's Pottery Shop. She peers in the window to see a couple at the wheel, shaping what seems to be a vase. A delicate, smooth, vase.
Dialing her boyfriend, she steps into the store.
Oh hey, a coupon.
Austin is quick to show up, pulling his credit card out of his wallet.
"What do you want to make?" He leans against the wall, bumping into a shelf. The pots jiggle.
Maybe he better lean against something else instead.
How about her body?
"I want to make a vase." She points to the couple, who are putting the finishing touches on their piece. So intricate, and beautiful.
He agrees. It'll be a good excuse to buy her flowers.
That is, if their vase can hold water. Everyone remembers his hand turkey. He's not the best with art. Vocal art, yes.
Visual art, not so much. Unless it's dancing. He's good at that.
Dancing straight to the bedroom.
Sorry, he's a bit, um, distracted. She took her sweater off. It's on the hook, replacing the apron that she's asked him to tie for her. Gives him a perfect view.
Why must she always wear that tank top? Surely it's not because he got it for her for Christmas.
She knows it distracts him.
Yup, she definitely knows.
Just like how he knows that this vase isn't going to win any awards. It's a bit lopsided, and by a bit, he means a lot.
"Maybe you should take control."
Now a bit really means a bit. But the best things in life aren't perfect.
Lord knows he isn't.
We've all seen the movies. Guy likes girl. Asks her to bake cookies with him. 'Accidentally' turns the mixer on high and they get covered in dough.
Then they strip off the offending clothes, and take a shower, to forget about the dough rotting on the cupboards.
Fine, that last part was in his imagination.
In the movies, the mess always disappears.
He may be kidding about the stripping and shower, but he wouldn't object to it. Where did that faulty mixer go? Oh yeah, they threw it out. Now all they have are wooden spoons. Ones that she's whacking him with because he's daydreaming.
On the knuckles, not the butt.
"Ow!" He lets her kiss them to soothe the pain.
Still wishing she had whacked his backside.
"It's time to add the chocolate chips." She lifts up the recipe, then the towel. "Austin, where's the chocolate?"
He wipes his face with the back of his hand.
Getting your butt smacked with a wooden spoon is a lot more painful than he imagined.
"How are we going to make chocolate chip cookies without the chocolate?" He kisses her complaints away, and she verifies her suspicions. The boy tastes of cocoa.
Guilty as charged.
He may not be the best at art, but he can't put the camera down. The world needs to see this beauty.
Well, most of this beauty. Certain parts of her are reserved for him.
Save for those special times of the month. Then he doesn't want to touch them with a ten foot pole. Though he will bring her ice cream if she wants it. Without the ten foot pole. That'd be difficult. He'd poke a hole right through her cone.
Great, now he wants ice cream.
But sticky fingers, on the camera…it took forever to find a disposable camera. (He really hopes he didn't cut her head off.)
"Austin don't you think that it's my turn to take a picture of you?"
"But the camera is so big. It'll hide your face." Gosh, that was as cheesy as pizza.
Can he get some pizza with that ice cream?
"Can we take a break? I'm hungry." She rubs her stomach.
Did her hand just go out a bit? Is that a bump?
No, Ally can't be. They've been safe.
There was that one night.
Maybe he's just too hungry to think straight.
He takes a picture. "Last one on the roll," he claims.
He just wants to remember this moment. Just in case.
Thursday: Video games
She hooks her hands around the controller, trying to copy his hunched stance.
Her back is going to ache in the morning. He should tell her, but he's thinking about how he can massage out all the kinks. Ooh, and she can massage out all of his kinks. Do they have any of that lotion left? Perhaps a little pre-game rub down?
But then his hands would be too slippery to hold the control. And then he'd really lose instead of blowing up at the last possible moment to let her win.
Which she totally notices, because she's not dumb.
"I want a rematch."
This time he creams her butt.
"What?" he asks when he notices the look. It's offended, because he didn't go the least bit easy on her. He went hard.
Okay, his mind may have been in the gutter all week, but you can get yours out. Not that kind of hard. Boys don't get aroused over their girlfriends playing video games.
Nope, not at all.
Curse her beauty.
Wait, no, don't. She may be beautiful on the inside too, but that doesn't mean he should have to forfeit her good looks just to concentrate on playing video games. He can just play with Dez.
"If you zapped dust like you did zombies, this place would look fantastic." She gestures around to the mess that's on his bedroom floor.
"Only if we get to wear cool costumes." Looks like they're going to be roleplaying today.
Wrong choice of words.
It'd probably be best to put the popcorn bowl in his lap.
She reaches for his lap. Austin restarts the game.
Screw dust particles. He needs to obliterate his hormones.
This was a terrible idea.
Ow, ow, ow! Ow, terrible idea. She may look attractive, hardly breaking a sweat after taking lessons with Kira, but he's not doing too hot.
Performance wise. Cause it is really hot in here. Or is that just her.
Yoga pants, with words across the butt. Should've printed 'don't touch.'
"Are you staring?" she asks, dropping into a plank.
"Since when do you wear pants with 'juicy' on the butt?" He turns to the tv in an attempt to figure out the next move. They want his leg where?
She sighs. "They want me to promote them. I find them degrading to women, but they're so darned comfy."
He smiles. Then he loses balance.
"I don't think yoga is our thing." The video tape goes on. He's going to practice planking some more.
Can Ally do the upside down turtle below him? That's a thing. Somewhere.
Cough, in the bedroom, end cough.
Seriously, he needs to get these hormones in check. They've gone into overdrive this week.
Can they just spend Saturday in bed?
Saturday: Netflix cuddles
This is not what he meant. On a technical note, they are in bed. Today she's claimed they're going to marathon until their eyes grow sore. (Or in his case, bladder grows full, because he's been nursing this can of Purple Flurp all afternoon as to occupy his hands. Can't let them be wandering now, can he? Can he?)
"Are you okay?" She grabs his hand, looking away from the screen.
"I need to the use the bathroom." Just a minute to empty his system, of Flurp and toxic thoughts. Ones that tell him to do dirty things to Ally.
When he returns to the bed, he realizes that the show has changed. Now it's a crackling fire.
Now she's narrowing her eyes at him. Not in an angry way either. More like she spots him as her prey.
Five minutes later it is out of frustration. Should've moved that bowl of popcorn before doing things. It's going to be a pain to clean up.
He's too busy to care at the moment. Ask him again later.
Much, much later.
Picking up the kernels, she throws her hair back into a bun.
"I think we found our new hobby."
Does she mean what they did last night, or the cleaning?
"I think so too." He hopes her eyes are twinkling for the same reason his are.
Thing is, he doesn't ask. His hormones have finally shut up.
He kisses her nose, as it's the only clean spot he can find. She's covered in dirt and grime. They really should clean this place more often.
Her stomach rubs against him, and he ponders it again. Is there someone inside?
This week they should try making jewelry. He's going to need a ring for a very important question.
There's no one he'd rather be bored with.
Besides, wedding planning is a hobby too, right?