A/N: Not entirely satisfied with this chapter. The problem is that I have the conclusion written. Just not the in-between stuff. So... yeah.
Let me know if y'all dig it/hate it/are meh.
"...thinking that if day has to become night,
this is a beautiful way."
-e.e. cummings
Ally realizes sometime after Thanksgiving that she and Austin have been working together for three months. It's odd; she feels like she's known him her entire life, but at the same time, the weeks are flying by. The recording dates for his album are drawing perilously close, and despite the occasional burst of inspiration, Austin's still in a slump.
It's past midnight on a Friday, the first day of December, and Austin's got six songs finished. They're sitting in the studio and Ally's curled up on the sofa in the corner, working on Romeo and Juliet, radio crackling softly in the background. Austin's sitting on the ground in front of her, picking out chords on his guitar, when Sinatra comes on, crooning through the static. Austin starts to play along quietly and Ally sets her pencil down and pulls her knees to her chest to listen. The song reminds her of the first conversation they ever had, and an idea suddenly hits her.
"What are you doing tomorrow morning?"
He turns to look at her. "Why?"
"You'll see." She closes her songbook and stands up. "Meet me at my apartment at 8. Bring your guitar."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're annoyingly cryptic?"
"I've found that curiosity is the best motivator for people under the age of ten." Ally pauses. "And also you."
Austin leans back into the couch lazily as he watches Ally pull on her coat. "Are you leaving now then?"
She nods, walking back to the couch to pick up her bag. "Don't stay too late, yeah? Early start tomorrow."
Austin tugs on the edge of her coat as she passes him. "Yup. Drive safe." He picks his guitar up again, and as Ally leaves, she can hear him strum the beginning chords of Fly Me to the Moon.
Austin arrives half an hour late the next morning and Ally answers the door with a cereal bowl in one hand, phone in the other.
"I was just about to call you."
He's practically drooping in her doorway and she finds herself softening. "You look exhausted. When did you end up going home?"
Austin looks sheepish. "I didn't."
She gapes. "You slept at the studio? Why?"
He reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Lost track of time. Woke up on the couch at 7:45, barely had time to get home and shower before I headed over here." He yawns and offers her a sleepy grin. "But I'm good to go."
She shakes her head and ushers him into the apartment. "Austin, you're dead on your feet. You can take a nap on my couch; we'll just leave later. It's not a big deal."
He makes a beeline towards her couch and collapses, grateful voice muffled by the pillow. "Allypad, I think I love you."
Her heart skips a beat, and she's glad he can't see her cheeks darken. "Don't be silly. Sleep, Austin. I'll wake you up in a couple hours."
He's already snoring as she slips into her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. She runs a hand through her hair and sighs.
"Oh boy."
Austin wakes to the sight of Ally sitting at a piano, backlit by sunlight streaming in from tall windows.
"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Ally is the sun."
Ally falls off the piano bench with a thump and Austin winces.
"Oops?" He offers as Ally glares at him halfheartedly from the ground.
"You wake up and the first thing you think of is Shakespeare?"
Austin shrugs. "I am furthering your education in the language of romance, Al."
Ally wrinkles her nose. "Don't call me Al. Al reminds me of New York taxi drivers, and belligerent car salesmen, of which I am neither."
Austin sits up, stretching. "Someday, I'll find a nickname you like."
"Doubt it." Ally says, picking herself up off the floor. "Ready to go?"
"Yup. Are you going to tell me where we're going?"
Ally smiles brightly. "Just wait."
The drive is an hour or so, and Austin fiddles with the car radio the entire way. Ally whacks his hands away from the stereo the first few times it happens, but gives up when Austin starts singing the wrong lyrics to every song that plays.
She pulls into the parking lot of a large red-brick building and Austin practically leaps from the car to read the sign by the doors.
He turns back to Ally. "Why are we at a nursing home?"
She ignores him and walks in, pulling him along by the strap of his guitar case.
"Hi, we're checking in for Saturday Sing?"
The receptionist at the front desk turns at the sound of Ally's voice, and a wide smile spreads across her face. "Ally! I'm glad you're back; the residents have missed you these past couple of weeks."
"Emma!" Ally reaches over the desk to give her a hug. "I didn't know you were working today. How are you? How are the kids?"
"I'm good; the kids are great. Oliver had a cold earlier this week, but he's better now, and just as rambunctious as ever."
"I'm glad he's feeling better; fall colds are the worst. And I'm sorry I haven't been around; work's just been hectic lately. But I come bearing gifts." Ally gestures to Austin behind her. "New volunteer. Can we get him a nametag?"
Emma hands Ally a nametag and a marker. "He's cute." She nods her head in Austin's direction.
He preens a little at the comment and Ally turns her head to look at him. "Yeah, he's alright."
Austin looks offended as Ally thanks Emma and drags him down the hallway.
"I'm alright?"
"Yup."
"You really know how to stomp on a guy's heart, Ally D." He tugs on a strand of her hair, dancing away as she tries to poke him in the ribs.
"Ran out of other nicknames?"
"Not a chance Ally-Wally."
Ally stops suddenly in a large open doorway, and Austin almost stumbles into her. "What's happening?" He looks around to get his bearings. They're at the entrance of a large conference room, with open glass windows and sunlight gilding weathered floorboards. There's a piano and a few wooden stools in the center of the room, and the light hum of laughter and conversation spills into the hallway where they're standing. There are people playing cards at a table next to the piano, women knitting by the window, and a lively game of shuffleboard in the corner of the room. One of the women at the card table turns and sees them in the doorway.
"Ally Dawson!" She stands, reaching for a nearby walker. "You are a sight for old eyes. Are you back for Saturday Sing? And who's your handsome friend?"
"See." Austin whispers. "She thinks I'm handsome."
Ally pats him on the shoulder. "Okay, Casanova."
She turns to the older woman and wraps her in a warm embrace. "Grettie, you look younger every day and you know it. Ernie certainly seems to think so." She tilts her head in the direction of the card table. "Still sharking all the boys?"
Grettie winks. "You know it."
"Hey Grets, are you going to keep her all to yourself?" One of the men at the table hollers.
"I'm giving you more time to figure out all the ways I'm going to take your money." Grettie yells back. She turns to Ally. "Want to watch me fleece the rest of 'em?"
Ally smiles. "Just for a minute. I brought Austin here for Saturday Sing."
Grettie turns to Austin, who's been watching their conversation with fascination.
"Are you an unsuitable cad or an unredeemable criminal?" She says abruptly.
"Um... no?" Austin looks like a deer in headlights and Ally suppresses the overwhelming urge to laugh.
Grettie shrugs. "Good enough for me." She turns to Ally. "I approve. Y'all are going to have adorable children."
It's Ally's turn to sputter for words, as Austin looks on, amused.
Fifteen minutes later, Ally's been passed around half the room. Evidently, she's been volunteering here every weekend since she got to LA, only missing the past week because she had a deadline for Nelson. Austin watches her ask about grandchildren and exchange jokes and greet people by name, and he thinks that this girl might shine brighter than anyone else he knows.
"Austin!" She calls him over to where she's standing, by the piano. "So Saturday Sing happens every weekend; local singers and musicians come by and play sets all day." She explains as he boosts himself up to sit on top of the instrument. "There's an open mic in the afternoons too, for any residents who want to perform. And honestly, some of them could teach both of us a thing or two. I signed us up for this morning's slot, but the way things turned out, they said they'd just slip us in right now."
"I don't have a setlist prepped or anything."
"You don't need one. Your entire childhood is a setlist for this. Sinatra? Van Morrison? Just pull out some Beatles and you'll be a hit with this crowd. I just want you to get a feel for what it's like to perform for an audience that doesn't expect you to be anything: not a rockstar or a celebrity or a performer. The only requirement is that you love the music." Ally says, opening the cover of the piano and sliding onto the bench.
"Are you going to play accompaniment?" Austin asks curiously.
"Nope." Ally's mouth quirks up. "I'm going to sing."
Three notes into Blackbird, Ally joins in and Austin's fingers slip on his guitar. Her voice is silvery and sweet, and her harmony twines with his until he forgets to keep playing, forgets to look at his audience, forgets everything but Ally and the song between them. He doesn't want it to end, wants an infinity of duets with this girl. His mind races as he realizes what this girl's come to mean to him. What she's come to mean for his music. A new muse.
Ally meets his eyes as they hit the last note and she finds herself breathless. Loud applause and catcalls shake them out of the moment, and Ally reaches for Austin's hand to bow jokingly. Heat skitters across her skin as he weaves their fingers firmly, and she takes a deep breath. This boy is doing a number on her heart, and she's not sure how long she can deny it.
Next Up: LOVE CONFESSIONS GALORE. or that may be the chapter after. Your guess is as good as mine.
