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Jack's Flaps

By skwirelygurli


Jack's Flaps

Jack's Flaps, an Austin & Ally oneshot

Disclaimer: I do not own Austin & Ally. This is my fourth A&A story in four days, so please, if you have any requests, make them known. Reviews also welcome!

They're walking past on their way back to the Sonic Boom when he sees it.

He doesn't notice it at first, too absorbed in what Ally is saying. She's talking to him about a new idea for a song. She's humming him a tune.

Then it hits him.

Jack's Flaps, now open.

The smell of pancakes wafts out the open doors. He peers in the window. There's a free booth in the corner. It's almost as if it is waiting for him.

Too bad he just ate lunch.

She's asked him a question. It's obvious that he didn't hear her. He's not responding, hypnotized by the stack of pancakes being set on the table.

"Austin, are you even paying attention?" she asks. He could lie. He could nod and tell her it's a great song, because they always are.

"Sorry Ally. I got distracted." he grabs the sides of her waist and directs her gaze to the store window. "An entire restaurant, dedicated to pancakes!"

He rests his head on her shoulder and sighs. It tickles the back of her ear. It distracts her. She nearly forgets the tune in her head.

"Come on. We can come back tomorrow for breakfast," she offers. He squeezes her in a backwards hug.

Austin Moon has a breakfast date with Ally Dawson.

November 17: Banana Pancakes

He cannot believe he got up this early on a Saturday. He's sharing a booth with Ally, his nose buried in the menu.

"Fourteen flavors! I cannot believe they have fourteen flavors." The booth can barely contain his excitement.

She sets her menu down. "Which one are you going to pick?"

"I might as well start at the top of the list," he shrugs.

The waitress comes to take their order. He orders banana and Ally asks for buttermilk. The most boring, safe choice on the menu.

While they wait for their order she pulls out her book. "I had an idea for the chorus."

"Let's hear it," he prompts. They talk until their order arrives. Then Ally knows she's lost all his attention to the pancakes, and she shuts her book, keeping it far away from the syrup.

"We should do this again," he tells her as he cuts into the second pancake.

She agrees.

November 24: Peanut Butter Pancakes

He cannot believe he got up this early two Saturdays in a row. He looks across the booth to Ally, who is stifling a yawn.

He makes eye contact with her. He recognizes the look on her face.

She was caught.

"Sorry, I was up late making some final adjustments to the song. I want it to be perfect for when you go on the Helen show." She slides a sheet over to him. "Hopefully this time I won't bring down the set."

He laughs.

"You'll be fine Ally. I promise." He puts one hand on top of hers reassuringly.

The waitress comes over and he's quick to remove his hand. Peanut butter pancakes are placed in front of him. He digs in, looking over to her buttermilk ones.

She really should try something new.

December 1: Caramel Pancakes

Three Saturdays. He has gotten up early three Saturdays in a row.

He's starting to think he's addicted.

Once again he notices she's ordered the buttermilk pancakes. "Are you ever going to try anything else?"

She stops playing with the pepper shaker. He's not sure why it's there. He doesn't know anyone that actually peppers their pancakes. And that's all they serve here.

Warm, delicious pancakes.

"I like buttermilk pancakes." It's so definite. Like she's so set in her opinion, and nothing is going to change that.

The waitress comes and sets the plate in front of her. She thanks her and goes to pick up her fork. Austin grabs it instead.

"Just one bite. " He waits for her to answer. He's not going to push her if she doesn't want his pancakes.

She shakes her head. He hands her back her fork.

Perhaps another day.

December 8: Lemon Poppy Seed Pancakes

He's been getting up early every Saturday for a month now. He was almost late this morning, have slept through his alarm.

With two minutes to spare, he slides in the booth.

"Why are you all out of breath?" she asks, reading the menu. It's probably just to keep busy. They both know she's getting the buttermilk.

"I woke up and didn't want to be late." He runs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it. He ran here.

She passes him the menu. "I didn't know it was an official thing now."

He scans the list. He doesn't even look up when he says it.

"You showed up, didn't you?"

He picks the next one his eyes come across because he can't help but look up and see the look of shock on her face.

"One order of lemon poppy seed please. And a buttermilk for my friend," he adds on.

He didn't even have to ask.

December 15: Peach Pancakes

This week he's early. He'd set his alarm a good fifteen minutes ahead. He wanted her to know that she was important to him.

In a best friend kind of way.

Besides, he's addicted to these pancakes.

The waitress brings him a menu. "You going to wait for your girlfriend before you order sweetie?"

His answer blurts out of him too quickly.

"We're just friends." He lifts his hands in the air, almost as if to create a barrier to an invisible Ally.

Well if that didn't make him look like he was hiding something.

She raises an eyebrow at him. He glances down at the menu. "Peach. And buttermilk for Ally. My friend, Ally."

"Yes?" she asks, and he sees she's standing right there.

How long was she standing there? And how many shades of red was he turning? The waitress walks away. Ally slides into the booth.

"I ordered for you," he manages.

She smiles, and his heart jumps.

Now that was different.

December 22: Blueberry Pancakes

This morning he is late. He has a good reason, and he hopes she's willing to hear him out.

"Hey Ally." He stuffs his hand in his pocket.

"I ordered for you." She flicks the ball on the end of her Santa hat out of her face. It falls right back. Austin thinks it is outright adorable.

Wait, what?

"Thanks. I would've been here sooner, but I was wrapping your Christmas present." He takes his hand out of his pocket, pulling something with it.

He holds it out to her. She wraps her fingers around the chain.

"Austin, I-"

"I know, it's just a ribbon, but I could not get it to wrap. And I couldn't find a box to put it in to wrap. But I remembered how much you liked the story about my falling whistle necklace and thought maybe you'd want one too. It's stupid, I know." His elbow almost knocks the pepper shaker on the table over (still no idea what it's doing there) as he rubs the back of his neck.

She carefully removes the ribbon. "It's perfect."

She sets her hat on the table. It's given her terrible hat hair. Again he thinks of how adorable she is.

This time it's less unsettling than the last.

"I left your present in the practice room. I didn't know we were exchanging today." She fingers it as it dangles from her neck.

"We weren't. But I couldn't wait to give it to you." The waitress smiles at him as she sets down his blueberry pancakes. She thinks she knows everything.

She's more right than he's willing to admit.

December 29: Blackberry Pancakes

He's finally gotten used to early Saturdays. So he has to double check the clock when he finds that there is already two stacks of pancakes on the table when he comes in.

One buttermilk right where she sits. And next to it an order of blackberry.

They stand there for a minute. Was someone else sitting there? It wasn't like this was their booth, but they had been sitting here for seven Saturdays now.

"Morning kids. Hope you like blackberry sweetie," the waitress says, pinching Austin's cheek as she passes.

He doesn't see her again until she comes by to check up on them. She approaches, right when his mouth is full of pancakes. He's starting to think she watches for this, because it isn't the first time it's happened.

"Enjoying everything?"

He gives her a thumbs up. His fork falls and clatters against the plate.

Ally wipes her mouth. "You always make wonderful pancakes Marge."

The waitress thanks her and moves onto another table.

"Like you'd know." Austin swallows. "You always have the buttermilk."

"I like the buttermilk," Ally protests.

"One bite," he offers.

She shakes her head.

He'll get her someday.

January 5: Pineapple Pancakes

It's been eight Saturdays, and he's still doing this. He's pretty certain that he's addicted to eating pancakes with Ally now.

"Well if it isn't Mr. Times Square and his friend Ally," the waitress announces as they slide into the booth. She makes sure to stress the word 'friend,' and Austin feels the room get about ten degrees hotter.

"I'll have the usual," Ally orders. The waitress goes to give Austin a menu.

"Surprise me," he says instead. She scribbles something down and walks away.

Ally sets her book down. Upon opening, an envelope falls out. He picks it up.

"Oh, those are our pictures from New York. My dad got them developed yesterday afternoon." She takes the envelope from his hands.

She moves to the other side of the booth to sit next to him. Her arm rubs against his and he swears he feels tingles.

Full on tingles.

She flips through a couple of the four of them. Then one catches his eye. It's just the two of them. They're eating cereal, and are both still in their pajamas. She has bed head, which he finds cute. He also has bed head.

He doesn't find that so cute.

"I want a copy of that one." He taps it with his finger. It was a picture Dez had taken when they weren't paying attention. They were in mid-conversation, and completely rapt in each other.

It was so them.

The waitress came and sat the plates in front of them. Buttermilk for her, pineapple for him.

She never moves back to her side of the booth.

January 12: Honey Wheat

The first thing he notices when she sits down is that her hair is in a wet ponytail. He also notices that she's back to her side of the booth.

This fact disappoints him more than it should.

"Am I late?" she asks, tugging at her ponytail.

"I didn't know it was an official thing now." He grins at her. Her exact words.

She leans across the table. "You showed up, didn't you?"

Looks like he's not the only one who remembers.

The waitress sets down her buttermilk pancakes. He gets the honey wheat.

"So where were you anyway?" he asks, picking up his fork.

"Trish is sleeping over, and I had to be quiet so I wouldn't wake her." She takes a bite of her pancakes.

He reaches for the pepper (because frankly he's curious) and shakes it over the bite on his fork. He takes a taste.

Yeah, never doing that again.

"Is sleeping? As in she's still at your house right now?" He wipes his fork on a napkin.

Her mouth is full, so she nods.

"You could have brought her along, y'know." Not that he wanted her to. Trish was his friend, but this was Austin and Ally time.

"I didn't want to wake her. Besides," she blushes, "I thought this was our thing."

He sets his fork down. His hand glides over hers and he slips his fingers through hers for a second.

"It is Ally." He takes his hand back.

It is.

January 19: Buttermilk Pancakes

There is somebody in their seat. What is this madness?

It's seat thievery, duh.

Then again, can they steal something that isn't his? Many people probably sit here. Which they have every right to do.

Just not Saturday, eight a.m.

Ally leads him to another booth. One where the seat squeaks if he moves a certain way, and there's a creepy picture of some guy behind her head. And every time he looks at her, which is often, because it's rude to not look at the person speaking to you, especially when they're as pretty as Ally, all he sees is those eyes staring back at his.

The poster's, not hers.

A waiter comes over. Not their waitress, good old Marge with the orthopedic shoes and red lipstick. No, some guy with an overgrown mustache. Some guy who has to ask Ally what kind of pancakes she wants because he doesn't know that she eats buttermilk. Just buttermilk.

"And for you sir?" he asks Austin. He runs his hand over his mustache.

"The same," he mumbles.

"Very well. Two buttermilks, coming up." He leaves. Austin watches him go walking away, and it's not the same without that little waddle of hers.

Ally reaches across the table and puts her palm on his forehead. He feels warm, but it's no illness doing it.

"You okay? You are aware you just ordered buttermilk pancakes." She moves her hand to his cheek.

"It's just one of those days Ally." He takes her hand from his face and holds it between his hands.

Maybe it's not such a bad day after all.

January 26: Sweet Potato Pancakes

There are four flavors of pancakes left on the list. Then he will have tried their entire menu, and there will be no reason to come back.

Except he's addicted to pancakes.

He's addicted to eating pancakes with Ally.

He's addicted to Ally.

Ally, who is sitting across from him in their booth. Their booth, not the booth with the squeaky seat. Their booth, right next to the window. Their booth with all the memories.

He should talk to Marge about getting a plaque for the table. Because she is back. She is no longer out sick, and she's bringing him his sweet potato pancakes.

"Ally, you have to try these. They're so good." He holds his fork up.

"For the last time-" she begins. He sticks the fork in her mouth. Her mouth stops moving in shock.

Austin Moon just fed her his pancake. Off his fork. The fork that was in his mouth. The fork that was in his mouth is in her mouth.

If he was going to force feed her against her will, he could of at least used her fork.

He pulls back. She swallows. It is so not classy to spew pancakes all over the person you're going to yell at.

There's a look of panic on his face. Like a kid who took a cookie from the jar before dinner, and now he's been caught, waiting for his punishment.

Well she was going to give it to him good. Nobody feeds Ally Dawson against her will. Even if she was completely wrong in not trying his pancakes sooner.

"How is everything?" The waitress is back at their table.

"Delightful as always Marge," she replies, looking right at Austin.

He can't help but crack a smile.

February 2: Pumpkin Pancakes

To think he had thought they hit a breakthrough last week.

The waitress has left with their order, and Ally has ordered buttermilk. Again.

"So I know how you feel about love songs, but Valentine's Day is coming up, and I think maybe we could write one." She bites her lip.

Hey, he did sing Heartbeat. Which was definitely a love song. True, it was to win over a girl, but it soon became one of his favorite songs.

Right up there with every other song she's ever written.

And he has been feeling rather inspired lately.

"I think it's a great idea Ally." He smiles and notices she's wearing the whistle necklace he gave her. It matches his, and they're like a perfect match.

Is it possible to serenade a girl with a love song that she writes?

"Really?" She perks up, and the whistle catches the light.

"Yeah." He leans back as the waitress puts a plate of pumpkin pancakes in front of him.

Then it's quiet, just the noise of their forks hitting the plate.

At least it was.

"Hey Austin?" She peers up at him.


"Can I try your pancakes?"

February 9: Strawberry Pancakes

The restaurant is bedecked in red hearts. It's a bit off-putting. Here he is, on a friendly not-date with his attractive best friend, surrounded by all of these hearts.

He swears their table has the most hearts of all.

When they sit at their booth there's already two plates waiting for them. Hers are buttermilk, naturally. He sees he's been given strawberry pancakes. They're shaped like hearts, as are hers, down to the two heart shaped strawberries placed on top.

Marge walks by with another customer's pancakes.

Another customer's perfectly round pancakes.

He thinks she's trying to tell him something.

"Aww, how cute. They cut the pancakes to look like hearts." Ally pulls out her phone to take a picture.

He cuts into his. "I wonder what Dez has planned for the music video."

Nice neutral territory. Talk about their career. Not the fact that they're surrounded by all of these hearts and he feels like his is going to burst.

When did the waitress become his wingman?

"Knowing him, it could be anything." She wipes her mouth. "He asked me for a giant arrow."

"Cupid's arrow?" Austin asks. As long as he isn't expected to play Cupid. There's no way he's wearing a diaper.

She nods.

He notices that all the hearts on the table have initials written them. One jumps out at him in particular.

A.D. + A. M.

It has to be coincidence. It has to be. He looks at Ally, and then behind the counter where his own little Cupid is pretending to fill the napkin dispensers. She smiles at him. She jerks her head toward Ally.

He sets his fork down.

Here goes everything.

February 16: Chocolate Chip Pancakes

The hearts have all been cleared away. Their booth is back to normal, one order of buttermilk, and the final flavor, chocolate chip.

"It's the last one on the menu," the waitress warns. "We were actually brainstorming new flavors this morning. We don't want you going, now that you've completed your mission."

He chuckles and grabs Ally's hand.

"I don't think we'll be going anywhere for a while." She picks up on the double meaning.

"You kids enjoy." She waddles away, back to the counter where he knows she'll only pretend to fill the napkin dispensers.

He offers Ally a bite of his pancake.

She doesn't hesitate for a second.

February 23: Banana Pancakes, again

He sits down at the table. There's already two orders of pancakes.

"We were debating what to give you," the waitress says.

He sniffs the stack. "Banana?"

She nods, and her eyes start to water. She pulls a napkin from the dispenser. Each eye gets dabbed, the napkin ending up in her pocket.

"It all started with banana." She places her hands on their shoulders. She's watched their relationship grow over the past three months, and she feels like a proud mother.

They smile. They may be back to banana, but they've come so far, and they know it's only going to get better from here.

Austin's stomach growls.

Starting with these pancakes.

He's leaning across the table, his fork dangling in front of her face, because this time she's agreed to try his banana pancakes. It's then when he notices.

Right there, stuck to the table, shimmering.

"This booth is reserved for Austin and Ally, Saturdays, eight a.m. by order of Marge," he reads to her.

He finally got his plaque.

More importantly?

He got the girl.

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