It was a blustery, perfectly boring day; it was high time you saw your boyfriend in his natural habitat. He had been complaining about his fever 24/7 for the past few days, and you wanted to see what was up. He wasnt one to gripe about a physical injury. Facebook chats can't hold a relationship, you know... Good thing you knew perfectly well that he was. You squinted at the address in front of you, confirming the location, and gently pushed at the wooden door, which swung open a bit, unlocked. Funny, I thought his brother kept the door at least closed all the time... Gently stepping over the threshold, you gently inhaled, the scent of sprinkles, pinion wood, and leather hugging you around like a blanket. Otherwise, the house held silent. I would think that he'd be home.. "Allen?" You softly called, shoes making a clack on the hardwood. After hearing the same silence instead of an over-sexualized comment back in his typical New York accent that he hated so much. Slowly, a muffled sound floated to your ears, and you stepped forward inquisitively. It was identified as music a few seconds later.. Heart racing and eyebrows raised, you crept down the hall that led to Al's and his brothers's rooms, sneaking a peek at the messy Canadian's, full of flannel, and the proper Brit's, painted in eyepopping pinks and blues. The music grew louder as you followed the hall down to Allen's room, whose door was left open but a tiny sliver. Hm, piano music.. Bravely stepping forward, you gently pushed the door, revealing the usual black-and-red pig sty you were so used to. Loud and beautiful melodies blared from the keyboard where Al was seated at. He was obviously having a good time, tanned hands running over the black and white keys, belting out an unfamiliar song in a smooth, Broadway-prepped voice that didn't seem to match up with his personality. He never struck you as an actor, but you could hear the emotion coursing through his voice as he soared over the high notes. Not wanting to disturb him, you quietly go to sit on his bed, spectating a completely off-the-wall side to your boyfriend. A few seconds later, he rested his hands on his knees, and just sang a Capella. "Memory...turn your face to the moonlight...let the memory lead you...open up, enter in..." It was surprisingly hypnotizing; you spectated till he trailed off on the last note, clear and sweet. You burst into an applause, genuinely taken aback by the unexpected performance. Allen jumped back, just now realizing you were there, steadying himself on his piano stool. "Jesus, (y/n), you 'bout scared the fuck outta me..." He muttered, New York accent thicker than ever, but still syly grinning. "I never knew you had a liking to Cats, Al. And had that voice..it was beautiful.." He shuffled over to his bed, lip piercings working in his mouth like they do when he seemed agitated. "Mm...thanks, dollface..nobody knows about my musical fetish, though, and let's keep it that way, okay?" His red eyes were hard to read, cold, and quick. Just like normal. "Fine..." Ruffling your hair, he stood back up, and settled into his piano stool once more, sighing a bit, and striking an interesting minor chord with his left hand. "It's kinda a stress deliver, ya know...look, I'm not sure why you're here, I'm just gonna be playing music and singin' shit, if you want, you can leave." He shrugged, brown ahoge flipping. You grinned, and grabbed a swivel chair from the nearby desk, dragging it next to your boy. "If you're gonna be singing, I'm gonna be here." His shady smile was all you needed to show that you'd gotten to him, and he passionately launched into Friends From The Other Side, his voice smooth and low, and villainous. You tried your best to join in on parts you THOUGHT you knew, Allen filled in for the rest. It seemed like hours you sat there, initiating duets, and just listening to Al's solo. It must have been 4 hours until you finally called for a stop, brushing the deep auburn hair out of the American's eyes. "You don't really feel hot, Al." He snickered back, eyebrow piercings glinting. "I'm always hot, doll." "No, weren't you complaining aboot some fever?" Al coolly smiled, leaning back a little. "You mean the musical fever? Hon, I would be hospitalized right now if that fucker existed." Wrapping a finger around his, you gently stroked the smooth surface of the piano keys, whispering
"memory...turn your face to the moonlight..."
Something I did. Because I was bored.
I just see Allen being Al cool and crap for the ladies, but on the inside he's a massive musical geek, so this happened.
:3
And for all you people who are waiting for Chapter 4 of America x reader, I'M WORKING ON IT.
-Bo
References:
Memory (song from the famous musical Cats)
Friends On The Other Side (villain song from The Princess and The Frog, aka the best villain song ever)