Disclaimer: I don't own Austin & Ally, characters, songs etc., and for the first time ever, I'm not sad about that, because the show is perfect as it is.


A/N: So, hi! Looks like I'm joining this fandom. This was the first idea I had for A&A, so I'm putting this up first. It's a two-part futurefic, AU in that everything happened like it did in the show with Austin's career, but Ally never got over her stage fright on the show, so never had her own record deal. That's the only difference. A huge thank you to the lovely Got2LiveItBigTime, for reading over this for me before I posted it, and for just generally being a cracking human being. Go and check out her own A&A story! Other than that, enjoy!


i

She closed her eyes and smiled.

There was no need for her to look at her fingers as they trailed across the piano keys, or at the sheet music in front of her. She knew this song well enough by now. Instead she could just relax into it, enjoy the sax and trumpet playing next to her, tune out the low hum of people chattering in the bar.

Jazz nights were her favourite.

"Our wonderful jazz band, ladies and gents," her manager said, as the song died away with one last flourish of the piano and a final drum beat.

Ally Dawson smiled at the applauding audience before the lights dimmed and she could leave the stage.

This had been her job for three years now, and she couldn't imagine doing anything else. Sure it didn't pay brilliantly, but it was the most fun she'd had with music in years.

Ally had never seen herself as a jazz musician, but an ad in the window of a bar had caught her attention one day. She'd stepped inside to ask more about the job and fallen in love.

Even in the day, this place was magical. All of the furniture, including the bar that ran the length of one of the walls, was dark wood, polished and shiny. Each of the little round tables had a candle glowing in the middle, and long ceiling lamps hung low and burned softly. It was impossible to find any bit of wall that wasn't covered in black and white images of musical legends of the past, or framed records, or photos of Lou shaking hands with various musicians that had stopped by this place.

This was a place where music was respected, and Ally felt at home. The little bar had been closed when she'd pushed that door open, so she had plenty of time to stand and stare before suddenly realising someone was watching her.

"We're not open yet," the old man had said in a deep voice, with a knowing smile. "But I've got a feeling you're not here for food and drink, Miss..."

"Ally," she'd smiled, instantly feeling at ease around him. "Ally Dawson."

"Well, pleased to meet you, Miss Ally. My name's Lou. Can I help you then?"

She blushed, straightening out the pleats of the skirt she was wearing. His lazy smile had broadened at her behaviour. He knew exactly why she was here. He'd seen her stop and pause in the window. She was surprising though; her fingers looked thin and nimble, obviously well-used to sliding up and down a piano scale, but she didn't strike him as a jazz player.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to just barge in, I was reading the advert and-"

"You play piano?" he'd asked, unnecessarily.

"Yes," she nodded. "But-"

"You've never played jazz," he finished for her, interrupting yet again with that smooth, low voice.

"But I can learn," she said enthusiastically. "I'm sure I could pick it up in no time, I've been around music my whole life."

"Well, is that so?" Lou asked, his face breaking into a grin. He liked this young woman - she could only have been in her early twenties, but her face looked younger and her eyes, much, much older.

"I just need a job, and if I can go back to that, back to being around music all the time," she sighed, forgetting herself. "That'd be pretty amazing."

"What do you do at the moment, Miss Ally?"

"Oh, well right now I'm studying music at MUNY. I have two years left there."

"Do you enjoy your course?"

"Of course I do," she smiled, her voice warm. "I've always wanted to be here. But I want music to be fun too, not just always part of my education."

"Can you waitress?"

"Maybe," she shrugged. "I've never tried."

"Well listen here then. Why don't you leave me with your number, and I'll have a think about things. You're not the only one who's stopped by for the job... but you are the most unexpected."

"Which is a good thing, right?" Ally grinned in a goofy way, immediately regretting it. "Um, I'll just write my number down for you."

She hastily noted it down on a slip of paper and walked over to hand it to him. Neither of them had moved since she'd stepped inside the shop - she'd stood there, nervously playing with the strap of her purse, while he'd observed her, a tea towel over his shoulder, his arms folded.

"I'll get back to you within a week," he told her.

"Thank you," she said, sticking her hand out and taking him by surprise. "It was nice to meet you, Mr..."

"Just call me Lou," he laughed. "Been that long since anyone's called me by my last name, I've nearly forgotten it myself. It was nice to meet you too, Miss Ally Dawson."

They'd shook hands, his huge bear hand completely engulfing hers, and then she'd walked back out of the little bar she'd never set foot in before, the bar that would soon become her second home. Lou Robinson, as she'd later learned was his name, didn't bother waiting the week. He'd phoned her the very next day and told her the job was hers if she still wanted it.

And she did. So she'd taken it, and she'd never looked back. Back then she'd spent her days at university, and a couple of nights a week plus weekends at the bar. Now she'd graduated, she spent three nights a week playing in their jazz band and three nights waitressing during intimate live performances from other bands, occasionally accompanying singers for their open mic nights. The pay was just about enough for her little apartment in the city, and Ally was happy and content in her musical heaven.

Nights like tonight, Ally doubted anything could make her happier.

She stepped off the little stage after the performance, no more than a black platform at the back of room, surrounded by various microphones, speakers and wires, and made her way through the maze of tables, thanking everyone who complimented her as she passed them.

"Another great performance," her friend Bea smiled, as Ally quickly ducked behind the bar to put her apron on.

"Thank you," she grinned, standing up to take the tray of drinks someone was handing to her.

Bea was probably the closest thing Ally had to a best friend out here. Lou's granddaughter, she waitressed with Ally, but spent the rest of her time learning how to do business from her grandfather. Ally had absolutely no desire to ever learn how to balance the books and sort out orders, while Bea didn't have a musical bone in her body. She'd grown up with jazz music, and she loved to listen to it, but she admired Ally for the way she could just stroll up there and get lost in the music.

Ally had never thought she'd turn to jazz. The day she'd stopped by the bar, she'd figured this would just be a job until she could find something better, a way to earn money through college. She'd spent her youth writing pop songs, or rock songs for a boy she'd once loved, and her college course had focused on classical music. Her dad had always tried to educate her, playing her every genre around, but jazz had never really grabbed her.

It was fun though. It was so fun. The breaks in the song, when all eyes were on her as she played around with chords and notes, doing whatever she wanted, there was an energy she'd never had before. The music didn't need to be perfectly set out on sheets before her, and she didn't need to play every single note in order to not mess the song up. Instead she had bars and bars of improvisation, when her fingers danced and no one, not even she, knew what was going to happen next.

It was certainly the biggest adrenaline rush she was ever going to get sat at a piano.

She liked the intimacy of this gig too. The fact that there was never going to be more than a hundred people in this room was reassuring. Big shows had never really been her thing.

Still, despite it all, Ally found herself lonely at times. She'd always wanted to come to New York, and after spending four years here, she now couldn't bear to leave, but she knew virtually no one aside from her course mates, and since college had finished, a lot of them had moved on. Trish, still her best friend, had stayed in Miami all this time, a three hour plane journey away. They tried to stay in touch on the phone, but it wasn't quite the same.

What Ally needed, everyone told her, was a man. Someone to go home to after work, someone to spend lazy Sundays with. Or, failing that, a dog, as Trish had suggested.

Ally didn't think she needed to find anybody though, nor did she need a pet. Most of her free time was still spent writing songs; now that she'd graduated, she was going to need to try and get her foot on the career ladder again at some point. After all, playing a little jazz bar was quite the step down considering she had a degree from MUNY. For now she was staying put, but she probably wouldn't stay here forever.

"In five minutes time, we'll begin the open mic," Lou's deep voice boomed over the speakers, as Ally threaded her way through the tables to take the last drinks orders from people sat at the front.

Ally grinned. She loved the open mic nights, especially when they followed on from a performance like tonight did. The bar was rammed, earlybirds sat at the tables and latecomers standing around the back. Lou was usually to be found in the corner by the stage, just smiling at the scene in front of him.

The evening wore on and Ally fulfilled her waitress role mindlessly, as she did every night, focusing more on the music being played. What the lyrics were saying, or what that chord progression was, or whether she could play around with that riff in one of her own songs. Open mic nights inspired her. Though this was strictly a jazz bar, the open mic nights often branched out into other genres, styles of songs she'd never even heard of before.

As it drew closer to closing time, Ally found herself yawning. There could only be a few more acts left, surely. She wasn't listening as hard anymore, trying to discreetly start doing the end of day chores with Bea. They weren't technically supposed to start them until the customers had all left, but the little kitchen that served snacks had long closed, so they usually got to work on cleaning it.

The noise was muffled in the kitchen, the music quieter, which meant the girls could whisper to each other.

"I'm so tired," Ally sighed, running a bucket of hot, soapy water.

"Tell me about it," Bea nodded, stifling a yawn herself. "I swear tonight's gone on longer than it usually does."

"It's only half twelve," Ally said, checking her watch. "No different to any other."

"I guess we've been busy then, because I could drop off right now."

"Same," Ally said, thinking of her bed longingly. "Do you know how many more acts were on the list?"

"Nope, but probably not very many," Bea replied. "Ah, applause. I wonder if this'll be the last."

The girls paused what they were doing to listen closely to Lou's deep voice.

"Well, only two left, folks," he announced, and the girls smiled at one another. Not long to go. "Our next performer is Austin..."

"Just Austin," a voice replied.

Ally felt her stomach drop.

"Our next performer is just Austin," Lou said, with a hearty laugh. "Enjoy."

"What's wrong with you?" Bea laughed. "You've gone white."

Ally didn't reply, simply walking back through the kitchen door in a daze to stand at the edge of the room. She stayed in the shadows, trying to watch the man on stage without being noticed.

"Hey guys," said the man sat on a bar stool on the stage, holding a guitar and playing around with it. He was wearing a beanie hat, but the blonde hair that stuck out at the bottom was a giveaway. "I er, I always kind of introduce myself, before I play, I hope that's okay."

Ally frowned. He sounded... nervous.

"I know that this is a jazz bar, but I don't know a whole lot of jazz," he continued, his face and voice apologetic. "I can play you a slow song though, and you know, if you hate it, feel free to throw tomatoes or something."

Slight amusement rippled through the crowd, and Ally found herself grinning without realising. Then she frowned, frowned at him for making her smile.

Austin was here. Here. In New York City. In a little old jazz bar, tucked away on a side street, with only his guitar. Austin.

She was confused, to say the least. Last time she'd checked up on him, because of course she still wanted to know how he was doing, even if they hadn't spoken in four years, he was on a North American tour. And seeing as the last time she'd checked up on him was yesterday, she highly doubted much had changed in twenty-four hours.

He was meant to be selling out stadiums, so she couldn't for the life of her work out why he was here, or how he'd managed to escape. The beanie was a poor disguise - she'd only had to hear his voice to come dashing out of the kitchen. Then again, not a lot of people would know Austin Moon's voice anywhere, because Austin Moon's voice didn't haunt a lot of people's dreams. Factor in that most of the people in this club had probably never even heard of him, and Ally suddenly found herself impressed.

If he didn't want to be recognised, he'd come to the right place. The boy had brains. Or man, she should say.

He'd grown up, filled out a little more, looked wiser. It was strange to see, but then she supposed she'd grown up too. They both had. Four years was a long time.

"So, I wrote this song when I was younger, back in high school actually, with my best friend. Actually, she wrote most of it. But I've worked on it a bit since then," he reassured the room.

Ally blinked.

"The song is called Not A Love Song. Which is funny because when I sing it, I only think of one girl, and I should have sung her a million love songs. Hope you enjoy."

Her breath hitched.

She shook her head. No. Austin was not singing this song about her, she was not the girl he had in mind. Austin had broken many hearts before they'd gone their separate ways, hers included, so there were several girls this could be about.

"The girl it's about, she was the one who wrote it. I don't really play a lot of the stuff we wrote together anymore, but I figured I should hold onto this song because, well, I never managed to hold on to her. Anyway, I guess I should stop telling you my life story, and just get on with it."

With that, Austin began picking out the first few notes of the song on his guitar, and started to sing a soft, stripped down version of their song.

Ally was frozen to the spot. Well that had narrowed it down just a little bit.

Her hands shaking, Ally pushed her way back through the crowd into the kitchen, where Bea was looking at her like she'd lost her mind. She felt sick, unable to handle all of the emotions coursing through her. She was angry, she was sad, she was happy, she was absolutely furious. Every feeling she thought she'd buried came rushing to the surface, and she felt overwhelmed.

"What just happened?" Bea asked, her hands on her hips, the pots she'd been washing abandoned in the sink.

"I er, I just..."

Ally stumbled on her words. She had no explanation for this one. She'd heard a voice and wondered if it was her long-lost mega-famous one-time best friend, and it was, and he was currently declaring his undying love for her through the medium of song.

"Needed some air," she said eventually.

Bea raised an eyebrow.

"You thought you'd get more air if you left the cool, empty kitchen to go into the hot, stuffy, crowded bar?"

"Yep," Ally nodded, grinning.

"You confuse me at times," Bea said, shaking her head. "So, what's the guy playing out there like? He sounds cute."

"He's nothing special," Ally shrugged, gnawing jealousy in her stomach, as she went back over to her mop.

"Ouch," Bea laughed. Heavy applause sounded from the other room, and Bea turned back to Ally. "Sounds like there's a whole bar that disagrees with you."

"He's just not to my taste," Ally said airily.

The kitchen door swung open, and Rob, one of the bartenders, stuck his head through.

"Dawson, Lou needs you."

"Why?" she asked, having started cleaning the floor.

"The open mic act needs piano. Sooner rather than later."

"What?" Ally asked, her eyes widening. "No, no, no, I cannot go out there and play piano."

"Yes you can," Bea said slowly.

"It's kind of your job," Rob added.

"What if I don't want to?"

"My grandad will fire you?" Bea suggested, shooting her a questioning look. "Come on, get your skinny little butt over to that piano stool already."

Ally sighed, reluctantly drying her mop and propping it up against the wall again.

"Take your sweet time," Rob hissed.

Knowing if she stalled much longer, she might just lose her job, Ally untied her apron, handed it to Bea, and followed Rob out to the waiting audience, and the waiting Austin.

"Finally," Lou laughed down the microphone. "Our piano player again, ladies and gentlemen, Miss Ally-"

Ally narrowed her eyes at him, motioning for him to stop his introduction right there by miming slicing her neck with her hand.

"Okay, Miss Ally, everyone. Apparently no one's doing surnames tonight."

There was a round of applause as Ally made her way to the piano, keeping her head down. Austin was thankfully playing with his guitar strings, eyes focused on his instrument rather than on her.

She took her place, trying to shield her face behind the lid of the piano. Looking around for what she was playing, Ally was dismayed to not find any music anywhere. Austin had obviously forgotten to pass it on. Now she was going to have to talk to him.

"Do you have any sheet music or anything?" Ally asked, trying to put a deeper voice on and attempting to direct her question at Austin without looking at him.

"Oh," Austin laughed, standing up and reaching into his back pocket. "I scribbled down a few chords, I figured you could maybe improvise?"

He walked towards her, still trying to get the crumpled piece of paper out of his jeans. When he finally succeeded, he grinned, glancing up and handing it to her over the top of the piano. Ally tried to keep her head down, but she had to look up to take it from him.

The moment their eyes met, the smile from Austin's face disappeared in a second. Ally blushed, taking the paper from him silently, propping it up on the music stand and staring at it pointedly.

"Ally?" he asked in a soft voice, but Lou cleared his throat to the side of them.

Without a word, Ally began playing the piano chords, leaving Austin no choice but to sit back down and join in. The moment she started playing, Ally knew exactly what song it was.

One summer afternoon and they'd been trying to write a proper love song for once. This had been after Austin was offered a record contract, and they'd realised that his album couldn't be fully made up of upbeat dance songs. He needed some slower pieces as well, to strike a nice balance. They'd carried on all night, working through the sun setting and finishing when it rose again.

Ally's tiny practice room had never felt so electric, and when they'd first sung the completed song together, there had been a spark neither of them wanted to read any more into. They'd mutually agreed that this song would never leave that room, their own little secret, passing it off as being too different to the other songs. It had been a beautiful song, but they each knew the inspiration behind their suggestions for lyrics, and neither wanted to take that first step yet.

She'd never imagined herself playing it with him again, let alone after they hadn't spoken for four years, in a crowded bar.

The emotion in Austin's voice was raw as they made their way through the song. She'd never heard it like that, not in the time she'd known him in, nor in the hundreds of performances he'd given since making a name for himself. Ally didn't know if it was because of what the song meant, or if it was because Austin hadn't expected to be singing it with the girl he'd written it with tonight, but there was something else there she still wasn't ready to read deeper into.

Halfway through the song, Ally forgot that they were in her little jazz bar. All she could see was Austin in that spotlight, and they were suddenly seventeen again, sat bunched up together on a tiny piano stool. She began harmonising with his singing, remembering the lyrics as clearly as if she'd written the song yesterday.

If Austin was surprised, he didn't show it. She wondered if maybe he'd forgotten where they were too.

That night, in a relatively unknown jazz bar, Austin Moon and Ally Dawson recreated their old magic, leaving an entire room spellbound and silenced. When the song ended though, and the slow applause turned into thunderous clapping and cheering, Ally slipped off her piano stool and walked away without another word, without another glance at him.


A/N: Yeah I'm kinda mean for cliffhangers and just generally dramatic endings. Sorry about that. I'm not entirely sure when the next part will be up, because I haven't actually finished it yet, but it shouldn't be too far away. Also, if you liked this, I'm definitely writing more A&A in the near future, so stay tuned! If you want little snippets as I write, follow me on twitter/tumblr via the links on my profile. Thank you so much for reading! Reviews will get a sneak peek of the next part :)