Unpack, an Austin and Ally one shot
I do not own Austin and Ally. For Rachel, DarkLilian, Catania and Polkadotty. Thanks for the prompts and reviews!
What is the point to buying a house, if they are never home?
They say that home is where the heart is. Then in that case, she should just take up address in his heart. His heart doesn't have mortgage payments.
However, despite its metaphoric size, she's pretty sure she can't fit inside his chest.
His arms, yes. Not his chest.
"It's perfect," he tells her, turning the key in the lock.
"It's ours," she affirms.
Perfect is all well and good. But if things were perfect, this wouldn't be the third house they looked at, and there wouldn't be a creepy garden gnome watching them from across the street. There wouldn't be a garden that needs weeding, or a pictureless refrigerator.
She runs a hand over her flat stomach. At least one of those things she can fix.
She won't tell you which.
That first night, they go ice skating. The boxes had been stacked high around them, a great tripping hazard to Austin, whose macaroni and cheese had fallen to the floor, staining the carpet.
Well, now they know where the coffee table is going to go.
Hooking the tv up first, they could only access the local channels. The cable guy wouldn't be free until next week.
"Come have fun at Figure Eight Skating Rink's grand opening. Admission half off!" the announcer had said.
"Let's do it," he had said.
"Sounds fun," she had said.
She might have failed to mention that she can't skate.
She might have also failed to mention that she'd be clinging onto his arm the entire time, squealing as he glided at a faster pace.
Ally was right.
This is fun.
"Is this your first time?" he asks, sliding to a stop. She wobbles to find her balance.
"I went once, back when I was little. But we live in Miami. It's not like lakes are always freezing over for me to practice on." She tugs her earmuffs down.
How dare those lakes not give her everything she ever wanted. Don't they know she's meant to be spoiled?
Though they did give him this opportunity for a great learning experience.
Thank you lakes.
He holds his hand out. "Follow my lead."
Biting her lip, she takes it. She trusts him. With skating, and not falling.
With her life.
Not that you asked, but if she thinks about something that doesn't involve falling on her butt, maybe she won't.
Looks like her theory could use some work.
"Sorry." He hoists her up again. "I thought you were ready to let go."
Brushing her pants off, she hooks her arm in his.
Maybe she doesn't want to let go.
Maybe he won't make her.
He was wrong. So very wrong.
"I think the AC is broken." For being a perfect house, it certainly does not seem perfect.
"What are you talking about? It's freezing in here." Her grip tightens on her coffee mug. Even it has grown cool.
"Exactly. I think it's stuck on high."
He sets his own cold mug on the table and sits next to her. Maybe if they cuddle together they could get warm.
Amongst other things.
Here she is, stuck in a tee shirt, because they still haven't unpacked anything besides the kitchen. If someone hadn't taken three tries to figure out how to fit all the dishes in the cupboard, there wouldn't be this problem.
He didn't find it to be a problem when she had to crawl onto the counter to reach the top shelf. Sure, he could have set things up there. But it was his job to pass her the plates.
It was not his job to swoon at how adorable she was, climbing around like a monkey, but he fulfilled the role anyway.
"Let's find the sweatshirts." She dumps the rest of her cold coffee in the sink.
This is how they come to realize just how many shoes they have. He must have sneakers in every color. And all of her shoes are in their boxes, so that they didn't get damaged in the move.
On box four, he's starting to lose hope. If they ever move again, they're using bigger boxes.
An idea comes to him. It sends him to the boxes they set in the attic. He paws through one labeled Christmas.
"Guess who found the sweatshirts?"
"You found the- Austin, those are the ones we wore to that ugly sweater party."
"You want to be warm or not?" He hands over her sweatshirt.
The Silver Bells sweater jingles as she takes it from him. She had forgotten about the bells on the sleeves.
He pulls his sweatshirt over his head. It's a bit snug.
"You've grown," she comments, sliding her arms through her sleeves.
"I've been working out." He flexes his muscles. It looks ridiculous, considering that he's wearing a sweater with dancing penguins on it.
She starts buttoning her sweater. "Why?"
In one swift move, he lifts her off her feet. He gets an accidental elbow to the stomach as result.
Maybe he should have waited until she was done buttoning her sweater.
He groans. Then he pushes the pain aside to grin adoringly at her. "So I could do this."
They really should get to unpacking.
The repairman comes to fix the air conditioner. Now the house can finally be warm again.
A bit too warm, if you ask him.
"I had forgotten how warm it could be," Ally says as she unbuttons her sweater.
"Well, had we gone out last night, instead of staying in and working on that song, you wouldn't have." He pulls off his sweatshirt.
"You mean the song you're playing on the Wanda Watson show today?" she asks through a wall of giggles.
He frowns at her. "I don't get how that's funny."
She presses her lips together, begging the giggles not to escape again.
Evidently, she needs a security guard for her mouth.
"Austin, I think you should go look in the mirror." She tows him down the hallway, into the bathroom.
"I think your sweater gave you static cling." Another giggle.
That's it. She's hiring that guard.
She'll have to remember to let him know that her husband is not to be considered a threat. He's welcome whenever he wants. Or when she wants. Really, it's the same thing.
"Not funny. I have to perform in," he checks the time, "two hours."
"You'll be fine. Just take a shower and wet it down." Her hand runs across the top of his head, trying to tamp some of it down.
He smiles at her touch. Then, quickly, before she can catch him, he rubs his sweater across the top of her head.
Not bothering to disguise his pleasure, he utters one single word. "Oops."
Looks like he isn't the only one that needs that shower.
They get a coupon in the mail for twenty percent off of pottery class.
"What do you think?" Austin asks, pointing to his project.
Project, meaning that she has no idea what it is. Is it a vase, or bowl, or what?
She takes her foot off the foot pedal. "I've never seen anything like it."
He smiles, glancing at her project.
"Whoa. Yours is way better than mine."
"You like it?" she replies, not acknowledging that he's right.
"Yeah. We can put it on the mantle when it's done."
"Right next to yours."
He reaches out to hug her. She takes in his wet clay hands and kisses the tip of his nose instead.
Shaking his head, he looks at both of the pots. "Mine's going to look terrible next to yours."
"I'll help you."
Ally takes a seat behind him. Taking his hands in hers, she manipulates his clay.
This isn't how its meant to go. Everybody knows that it's the boy that teaches the girl. Just look at all the other couples in the shop. Boyfriends helping their girlfriends make vases and bowls they'll never use.
Too bad. He was never meant to fit the mold.
And if he was, he's pretty sure he broke it.
Not everything broken is in need of fixing.
Austin comes in the kitchen, still in his pajamas.
Considering his pajamas consist of only boxers, Ally finds this a bit distracting. So do the birds, who are lined up on the window sill, watching the two of them.
She needs to concentrate. Burnt pancakes would not be all too appetizing.
"Good morning beautiful." He comes closer, and the birds press their beaks against the glass.
Back off guys, he's taken.
And she's not giving him up any time soon.
"Morning." She flips the pancake. "Are we going to unpack the rest of the boxes today?"
"I don't feel like doing anything today."
"That'd explain why you didn't get dressed yet. If you aren't feeling like doing anything, then who am I going to get to eat all of these chocolate chip pancakes?"
The birds face him to hear his response.
"Fine, we'll unpack today." The pancake gets set on his plate.
"See guys? The things you can get a boy to do when you appeal to his love of pancakes," she whispers to her windowsill audience.
After finishing breakfast, he walks over to the birds, who are still lounging on the sill.
Lowering his voice, he whispers to them.
"Not love of pancakes. Love of his wife."
With the piano finally free from the prison of misplaced boxes, Ally decides to play.
"You never fail to remind me why I fell in love with you."
Her fingers falter on the keys, breaking the perfect melody. "How long have you been standing there?"
He brushes the question off. That's not important.
"Did you write that?"
"I wish. It's by a Korean musician, Yiruma."
"We should get him to co-write a song with us." He sits on the piano bench. Pressing his body against hers, he tries to mimic the melody.
She guides his fingers along the keys. "You want to go to Korea?"
"Why not? We never got our honeymoon." They had been on tour, and during their stay in Vegas, he had popped the question. Said he couldn't wait anymore.
Sure, Elvis wasn't the most romantic wedding, but he was happy and she was happy. That was all that mattered.
She nods. "I'll talk to Trish about it."
"Y'know, we haven't seen them all week. We should call them up." They've been so busy enjoying each others' company, they've neglected their best friends.
It's terrible really. So very terrible.
It'd be easier to feel guilty if she wasn't curled underneath his arm right now.
It'd be even easier if wasn't lifting her off the piano bench, carrying her into their bedroom.
It'd be even more easier if he wasn't whispering little everythings, because trust her, they aren't nothings, in her ear that make her heart flip in the most delightful of ways.
But like this house, life isn't meant to be perfect. It's not meant to easy. It's meant to be here and now.
Here, being in his arms.
Now, forgetting past mistakes and making future memories. Moments where she can look back and wonder how she got so lucky.
If home truly is where the heart is, then they're never going to leave this bed. She thinks she'll survive.
She thinks she'll live.