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By skwirelygurli



Tripped, an Austin and Ally one-shot

I do not own Austin and Ally. For JoeyJar99. Requests and reviews are open!

If it was his birthday, there would be a cupcake in front of him. There would be a blue candle stuck in it. He would blow that candle out. He would get his wish.

It's not a cupcake in front of him.

It's a muffin.

A blueberry muffin, and all of the berries have sunk to the bottom.


Just as fantastic as the sleep he didn't get last night.

There's nothing interesting about his ceiling, yet he found himself staring at it all night long. Minus the few seconds his eyes would glance to the clock, hoping that the time would pass. Hoping even more that it would pass as he slept.

His alarm went off at ten. The noise didn't phase him.

It's hard to notice anything when you haven't slept in two days.

(the page breaks here)

Tonight he's going to get to sleep. He's drunk two cups of warm milk, and he's put his favorite old lullaby on loop.

He can do this. He can fall asleep. He doesn't need to be scared, knowing that if he falls asleep, tomorrow is going to come. It's coming whether he's awake or not. Besides, tomorrow is going to be a good day. That's what he's promised himself.

He's going to close his eyes. The second they shut, he'll fall asleep.

Here he goes. Eyes closing.

Darn, he needs to use the bathroom. Shouldn't have had all that milk.

Ugh, bright light. He shouldn't have turned it on. Though he'd rather not try to go in the dark.

He climbs back in bed, shutting his eyes.

Nope, he's wide awake again.

Maybe he can fall asleep out of pure exhaustion. He gets out of bed.

Now to commence the push ups. Up. Down. Repeat.

He's not going crazy. He's just going deeper in this quicksand pit of love. He's been sucked in, and ever since that kiss, he feels the ground caving in beneath him. He needs someone to save him.

Someone who has the most beautiful voice when she laughs, or sings, or when she says his name. Someone whose hand makes him feel on the edge, yet like there's nowhere he could feel more safe. Someone whose name is Ally.

And no, he's not talking about the Ally in his history class.

He's talking best friend, musical partner Ally.

Why are the push ups not working?

Perhaps a jog around the neighborhood would wear him out. Though it's almost midnight, and it's past curfew.

He could do laps around his room.

He pushes off the ground, running around in circles. There are things tossed carelessly on the floor. He has to stay awake to avoid tripping on them. This isn't going to work. All it's going to do is make enough noise to wake his parents. He doesn't need them to know that he hasn't slept in two days.

It's all her fault.

That stupid kiss.

It's even stupider when you consider that it's a month later, and he had almost convinced himself it was only a dream until Dez brought it up, along with every last feeling that went with it. Some best friend he is.

'So how come you haven't asked Ally out since you broke up with Kira?' he had asked.

'You saw how the media got with Kira. I couldn't do that to Ally.'

That's what he had said out loud. He was really thinking about how they were both keeping off the topic, afraid to admit how they really felt. How he felt fireworks. Big, flashy, Fourth of July fireworks, going off right in front of him.

There is no way he can risk asking her out.

Not if he wants to keep that blueberry muffin down.

(the page breaks here)

In the morning, he wakes up. He must have fallen asleep at some point.

Question is, why is his face nestled into his tee-shirt? It was supposed to go in the wash yesterday.

Mmm, it still smells like Ally.

He's going to toss this in his hamper right now and vow to stop hugging her. He can't have all his shirts smelling this good.

Though if the smell of her lulls him to sleep, maybe he can. It's not like it'd be fair to her to stop being all touchy feely. He likes to touch. And feel. And many other things that two friends shouldn't do, but do, because he has fallen so hard for her.

Remember how he said he isn't crazy?

Now he isn't so sure.

(the page breaks here)

On his way to the Sonic Boom, he can feel their eyes on him. The giggling group of girls getting their nails done. The father feeding his baby, who he swears is staring at him over her bottle.

The only person not staring at him is an elderly woman in a cat sweater, and that's because her sweater cat is now sporting a mustard mustache, courtesy of her dripping hotdog.

He's paranoid. Clearly not all of these people are looking at him.

And if they are, it doesn't have to be because he's going crazy. He is famous after all.

"Austin, are you okay?" she asks.

"I'm fine. Why?" She hasn't noticed anything being off all week. There's no way she could know.

"You have circles under your eyes." Digging around for her compact mirror, she continues. "Plus, you've been like a zombie lately."

Okay, maybe she did notice.

He takes the mirror from her. "Sorry. I haven't gotten much sleep these past few days."

He's gotten four hours to be exact. Well, if he's being exact, he's gotten four hours and eleven minutes.

Not that he's counted.

"Everything alright? You know I'm always here for you."

That's the problem. He can't get away from her. He can't escape from these thoughts of her and how perfect she is.

But if her scent lulled him to sleep, maybe her voice could make him fall asleep for more than a few hours.

He's not going to begin to think of how her arms around him would help right now.

"Thanks. I'll be fine." He returns the mirror.

Looking over to Trish and Dez, he sees them whispering. His paranoia comes back. They're probably talking about him, and how poor little Austin can't fall asleep because he's too busy thinking about Ally.

To think he considers them his best friends.

"I had an idea for the chorus last night. Want to go up to the practice room?"

"Sure." He takes her hand.

Yup. That does help.

(the page breaks here)

The moment his head hits the pillow, he falls asleep. He's still wearing his red tee-shirt. It still smells like her.

He dreams about her. It's the reason he has a smile on his face the next morning.

"Did you have some good dreams last night sweetie?" His mother takes a sip of her coffee.

"How'd you know?" He uncaps the maple syrup.

His dad fills his mug. "You were talking in your sleep."

Great, now there's syrup on his pants. He shouldn't have squeezed the bottle that hard.

Not that he could help it. He was caught off guard. If he said what he said in that dream out loud, then that more than justifies the reddening of his cheeks.

How much longer is this going to last?

(the page breaks here)

They've finished the song, and he hugs her, because it's taken two days to get it right.

That's nothing compared to how long it's taking him to get their relationship right.

It occurs to him when she's in his arms. The paparazzi doesn't need to know. He's in the practice room, and they aren't, and he can make a move. A move that involves his mouth and a lack of words.

"Austin?" One word.

"Yeah?" Another.

A third word never comes.

(the page breaks here)

They're crossing the street on the way to her house when he stops her. Reaching the dotted line, he grabs her shoulders.

Then he kisses her.

A car whizzes by, honking at them.

"Who honks at someone who's kissing his girlfriend?" He grabs her hand.

"Who kisses a girl in the middle of the street?" They dash across the street.

"I do."

Silence as the sound of a rusty car putters on by.

"Wait, did you say girlfriend?"

This will make a great story for their future grandchildren.

(the page breaks here)

He kisses the top of her head, locking her between his arms.

"Did you sleep well last night?" They had talked on the phone last night before he went to sleep. He had slept for hours. Ten hours straight.

"Best sleep I've had in a while."


He's not crazy. If he is, she must be too, because they've both fallen. Hard.

He doesn't think he's getting up any time soon. That's the thing about falling in love. You fall, and you don't want to get back up. You want to lie there forever, with that one person that tripped you. In his case, Ally.

It's okay.

He tripped her back.

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