Author's note: I'm very busy with my studies and can't update frequently but I'll attempt to at least have an update once every two months.

The story takes place after Grojband has broken up and are in their 20s. I wanted, as I do with most of my writing, to weave in a message about life despite the more juvenile mood of the show, and I think in the end it'll be best understood by older teenagers or young adults. Of course, slightly younger readers may still enjoy it just for the whole CoreyxLaney theme, but if you're able to pick up more than just the romance, I hope you find the fanfic meaningful.

Also, I don't avidly watch the show (I just really like the CoreyxLaney pairing) so I'm sorry if I mess up any little details that hardcore fans would be aware of.

Cheers!

Chapter 1: A Coincidence

"What floor would you like?" Asked a man in a suit when Laney stepped into the elevator.

"Eighth, please. Thanks." She noticed that the button had already been pressed.

The man smiled. "Oh, are you here for the internship, too?"

"Yes," she answered, her face expressionless.

"Did you just graduate?"

"Would rather not say."

"Alright." The man hesitated. "Well, uh, your skirt looks lovely on you."

"Thank you," she said, though seemingly not pleased. The entire time, she had not even made eye contact with him. Her terse, deadpan responses began making him uncomfortable and he decided not to speak another word.

The last thing the man had the heart to say was, "This elevator music is catchy." It might be said that this innocuous line was the most successful in inciting any meaningful reaction from Laney. Of course, a smirk probably wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for.

They left the elevator speechlessly and were greeted by a neatly-dressed but probably overworked woman in her mid-thirties. "Interns this way, please," she said politely.

Laney's curious gaze flitted all over the room but was met with dull gray cubicles, boring desks, depressing stacks of paperwork, and the intense, focused faces of the people who actually wanted to be here.

"... and your desk, Ms. Penn, is here. If you need anything, just ask Eric over there in the office. The band will be here in a few minutes." The overworked woman looked at her watch. "Make yourself comfortable, I suppose, in the meantime. Good day." She strode swiftly off before Laney could thank her, and the new intern was left to face the unexciting reality. Well, she'd be out of here by 6 in the evening; she needed the money, anyway. She looked for the man in the suit she'd encountered earlier; he had been assigned a desk four cubicles down. Hopefully he wouldn't come back to look for her.

Knowing that the cubicle was shared by a couple of different interns throughout the week, she simply sat in the swivel chair without setting up anything. She knew the work would involve, say, making coffee for people or organizing papers, which were all terribly boring things. At least she'd still be able to do some work with a band that had been commissioned to write a jingle for the company's new shower product.

Laney thought of her days as Grojband's bassist. Music on the weekends, gigs every month, late-night movies with the guys. Adventures, dares, wacky situations. Real tunes and heart-racing rhythms and, to her ears, the most talented voice in the world. She hadn't heard it in a while.

She still lived a life of music, just a bit differently, was all, and she had found new friends at university. She'd played in a couple of gigs, too, but being in other bands just didn't feel the same and she never stuck around for long. What had happened was really a shame, she thought to herself as her finger traced the paint lines on her desk. But you could only move forward.

The overworked woman returned. "The band's here. Take this folder - I said take it - and follow me. And make sure you don't drop any papers, I'm too busy to pick up after interns."

The woman led Laney through some hallways, down some stairs, past several doors, and around many turns before finally reaching a door with the shiny sign "PRACTICE ROOM."

"Alright, you're in here for now. Your instructions and all are in your file folder, and a couple other people will be in with you in fifteen minutes. Introduce yourself, be polite, yada yada yada, and don't screw up."

"Wait, but - "

"It's all in your folder. Don't come to me until you've read it all." The woman walked briskly back out the room, and once again Laney was left to ponder her situation.

There were three men in the room and a drum set had been set up in the corner. The practice room was fairly roomy, though still smaller than the garage her own band had played in years before. "Uh, hey, my name's Laney, and I'm here to help out with the jingle. What're your names?" She figured that was a good place to start, even if she hadn't opened the folder to figure out exactly what to do yet.

"I'm Meck," said the man in jeans. "I'm the lead vocalist, nice to meet you, Laney!" He held out his hand.

Laney smiled and shook it. Band members were much easier to get along with than the prissy guys in suits sitting in cubicles.

"John!" Shouted another man, this one in khaki shorts, from behind Meck. "I'm John!" He waved. "I'm your drummer."

"Ricky," said the man fiddling with the amplifier. "I do keyboard and lyrics. And I fix stuff in general."

"Cool," Laney said, shaking hands with each of them. "Three-piece band, huh?"

Meck looked around the room. "Four. Our other guitarist was in here just now but I don't see him."

"I'm over he-" a blue-haired young man in a t-shirt and sweats popped his head out from the closet.

Laney, upon seeing him, was dumbstruck.

"Corey?!"

"Laney?!"

There were a few seconds' silence.

John said quietly, "Bro. That's awkward."