Title: Night and Day (6/?)
Genre: dramatic romcom, AU
Rating: currently T, M for later chapters
Couple: Austin/Ally
Summary: Austin Moon is the world's most famous rockstar and due to heartbreak completely out of control. So his agency brings in songwriter Ally Dawson, who is as brilliant as she is desperate. She needs a job - and what she gets is Austin Moon's crazy everyday life.

Chapter 6 - Walls & Lullabies

Austin dreamed about Cassidy leaving. He remembered her with her pajamas, with her bed hair, he remembered how beautiful she looked in what situation ever - and he remembered showering her with attention, but she would just wave him away.

"I could give you a massage," he offered in his dream.

"Not now, Austin," she said tiredly.

"Or we could go out and eat something," he said. "I found a nice Chinese place."

She was still occupied with the song she was writing. Her earplugs kept almost any sound out. "I'm not hungry, Austin."

He nudged her ellbow. "Or we could buy around twenty bike locks, place them on random bikes by the metro station, get a Starbucks coffee and sit on a bench on the other side of the road and wait."

She ripped her earplugs away and sighed impatiently. It wasn't a real sigh, it was more something of a hissing sound. "Grow up, Austin! You are a rolemodel now, a star! You can't do something stupid like that!"

"Other pop stars trash hotel rooms," Austin said with a small voice, but let her be afterwards. The memory dated around three weeks before she moved out.

Dez had told him to break up with her during these three months, but Austin refused to listen to him. "She's sucking you dry," he had told him. "Keep her as your songwriter, if you must, but don't let her live with you. It's doing no good to you."

"The press conference is at the Hilton Centurion?" he asked, refusing to acknowledge Dez' question. It took Dez a moment to answer and his voice sounded slightly beaten when he did.

"Yes," he said. "Everybody will be there, so you need to be at your best."

Austin could easily play the press. They liked him, because he was approachable and because he answered questions in a half-open, half-joking way. Besides that, the relationship with Cassidy was steady, boring and they showed themselves often enough to satisfy and bore the paparazzi. Those press conferences were a piece of cake.

Austin would never attend it, because before the press conference, Cassidy moved out and Austin's world broke apart.

He still saw Cassidy in his dream, sitting in front of the TV, eating potato chips. Her profile was illuminated by the blue, ever-moving light of the TV screen. The profile changed to another face and Cassidy sat there, munching potato chips and singing softly.

Austin stared at her and blinked and suddenly realized that it wasn't Cassidy, but Ally. Her face was illuminated by the night light of her seat. There was a persistent roar in the background: The plane's engine. They were midair, they were in the first class of a plane. And Ally was softly singing to her son.

He remembered the song; it was a lullaby by Billy Joel.

"Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me.
I think you know what I've been trying to say."

Ally's voice was soft and gentle, pure and definitely a singer's voice. He had heard traces of it during their recording sessions, but never an entire song and never a lullaby. He cleared his throat as inconspicuously as possible and accompanied her. Her eyes darted to him, but she continued singing until the stanza was finished.

"I promised I would never leave you
Then you should always know
Wherever you may go, no matter where you are
I never will be far away."

"I didn't know you were awake," Ally whispered into the semi-darkness of the plane. Denny was seated between them, dead asleep. "He doesn't like flying that much," she added and removed a lock from Denny's forehead.

"I don't either," Austin said, "but you get used to it. Cassidy and I played computer games on our PSPs against each other. That would help."

Ally smiled. "I'm sorry, but I'm not very good at computer games. Maybe he will play you once he is awake."

"I've seen him play. He'll wipe me off the map."

Ally smiled it response, but it was a guarded, toothless smile. She was clutching her cellphone with one hand and Austin could see the screen shimmer and a picture with someone red-haired through her fingers.

"Did something happen?" Austin asked.

"The inevitable," Ally mused. She gently stroked Denny's hair, then pulled his blanket up some more. Their eyes met over his head. "The press has learned about me - and they know we aren't on our way to Iceland. You should have gotten a message from Dez, too."

Austin took out his cellphone and rummaged through his dozens and dozens of text messages. Selena Gomez, Justin Bieber, again Selena Gomez, an angry one from Justin Bieber, Selena Gomez having both him and Justin Bieber in BCC with some angrier words returned, Miley Cyrus, Debbie Ryan - it took him a moment to identify Dez' picture and open his message.

'Austin - they know about Ally. Public opinion still hasn't decided between Ally the songwriter and Ally, Austin Moon's new love interest. Would be exceedingly super if you two came back with a bunch of new songs, so we have something to show off at the unavoidable press conference. BTW, am in Iceland. Love the Blue Lagoon, no Brooke Shields. FYI, Trish's threatening to kill ya. CU, Dez.'

"Have you ever been to a press conference before?" Austin asked and looked up.

"Not as a featured item," Ally said. She played with her hair and looked like she would start to nibble on it. "I knew it would happen, but still - the public interest seems to be enormous."

"How do you know that?" Austin frowned.

She lifted her cellphone for him to see. "Twitter," she said, then pointed at over her shoulder. "Also, row twenty two to twenty six had a discussion about it, after someone in row fourty six reported us to TMZ. And you have been talking in your sleep about Cassidy, so people kind of know about that too."

And elderly lady leaned forward and squeezed her head in-between the rift between Denny's and Austin's seat. "It's good that she's gone, dearie," she told a completely horrified Austin. "If she really didn't like Dougie the Dolphin, it wasn't worth it. My grandchildren love Dougie the Dolphin."

Austin leaned toward Ally. "When I was talking in my sleep, would it have been too much of a favor to shut me up?"

"Ho doesn't like Dougie the Dolphin?" the person next to Ally asked.

"Who are you?" Austin asked.

"Jane," the girl, Jane, said. "Say, would you consider dating a fruitarian, especially since you like dolphin's so much?"

"What's a fruitarian?" Austin asked.

"They believe everything that didn't fall off a tree by itself got murdered," Ally said, without even blinking.

Austin stared at Jane, then at Ally, then leaned even closer toward his songwriter over the sleepy Denny. The elderly woman was still in the way. Austin and her face were close - and she started waggling her eyebrows.

"Would you mind some privacy?" Austin asked.

The woman smiled, then looked at Ally and back at Austin. She winked. "Your new songwriter is cute," she said, then her face disappeared, as she leaned back into her own seat.

Once they were relatively alone, Austin started speaking again. "Don't worry about the press conference," he said. "Dez and Trish are really good at organizing these kind of things and if you don't manage to get the magical words 'no comment' out in time, Trish will. One of her hobbies includes torturing the press. She's really good at it."

Ally held Austin's eyes, then looked away quickly. He wasn't sure if she was blushing, but something had made her uncomfortable. She didn't like her book to be touched and she didn't like touching people. Maybe his closeness made her uncomfortable? He couldn't be sure.

"I'm looking forward to see Bahamas," Ally said. "It will probably be my last trip where I am just like everybody else."

Austin didn't think she was just like everybody else. If she were, the world would probably be better at cleaning up, punctuation and liked pickles more, but he knew what she meant. Right before his first huge gig on national television, he had gone bowling with his parents, well aware that afterward it would be impossible. And now it was mostly impossible.

If not for the huge number of privately owned islands on the Bahamas, he could probably throw a stone and it would hit a fan. They were everywhere, but now only to see him.

Soon, they would want to meet Ally, too, even if only for her association with him.

He smiled and looked at Denny. It would be fun - to see the world through their eyes. And it felt a bit less like running away, something he had done the last months tirelessly.

Everything felt less like a running from and more like a running from.

Denny found everything interesting. After the plane landed and they had left the Nassau airport for the house Ally had rented, Denny had proceeded to inspect every palm and every grain of sand. Instead of pigeons, parrots sat in the trees. The air smelled differently and the swooshing sound of the sea was a constant companion.

A taxi dropped them off at a beach. Austin felt completely lost, standing next to his luggage, but Ally picked hers up and started to walk. She had been here before, as had Denny.

"How did you rent this place so quickly?" Austin asked when a beach house appeared around a small collection of palm trees.

"The Bahamas are home to indigenous species, many of whom have not yet been properly researched," Ally said.

Austin wondered what that explanation had to do with renting a place quickly.

"For example the family of the trochilidae," Ally said.

She received the expected blank look from him.

"Humming birds, Austin," she said and the entire situation still didn't make any sense to him. Rent, humming birds, Denny already knowing the way - what the …?

And then Denny cried: "Grandma!" And ran toward a woman with similarly dark hair like Ally's.

A strange feeling of déja vu overcame Austin as he looked at the face smiling at Ally over Denny's shoulder. It was beautiful and bright and shone - and looked very familiar.

"Hello, Ally," Mrs. Dawson said and hugged her daughter. Then she eyed Austin. "Hellooo …" she said slowly and glanced from Ally to Austin and back to her daughter. Her smile was still bright, but questioning.

"Don't get any ideas, mom," Ally said. "That's Austin Moon, my boss."

"Your boss?" Mrs. Dawson asked, her eyebrows rising higher. Ally knew exactly what was in that look and included in her mother's rising eyebrows:

That's your boss? He's really cute, his hair flops just the right way - and does he work out? He sure looks like he works out. And he is good-looking and you dragged him all over here to the house of your old mother? What exactly is the plan here? Are you intending to marry him? You'd have such cute grandchildren. Does your father know about this? A

Ally cleared her throat and her mother remembered her manners. "You are young enough to be my son, so there's no way I'm going to call you Mr. Moon," she said and before Austin could answer, he was pulled into a firm hug. "Austin, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Austin managed.

"She does that with everyone," Denny commented. "Don't be alarmed."

"Thanks," Austin said and followed the Dawson women toward the house by the sea.

"Mom's a research biologist, specialising on evolutionary development and diffusion of animals," Ally explained. "Last year, she spend most her time in Africa and since this winter, she's here on the Bahamas."

"I see," Austin mumbled. Father owns a music store, mother is a biologist. They couldn't be any different.

"So, what is it you do?" Mrs. Dawson asked, while she helped Denny drag his luggage over to the house.

"Uhm," Austin exchanged a glance with Ally and all he got in return was a shrug and an expectant smile. So he chose the truth. A watered down, modest truth, so modest it bordered on laying, but a truth nonetheless. "I'm a singer."

"A singer, huh? Are you any good?" Mrs. Dawson seemed completely unaware of him, his career or pop culture of the last century.

"I'm not sure," Austin said. "I let others be the judge of that."

"That's for the best," Mrs. Dawson said. "So Ally's working for you, huh? So you must be kinda famous, right?"

Kinda famous. Austin didn't know if Austin cups, posters, computer games, barbie dolls, key chains, comic books, underwear collections or cover bands qualified as kinda famous, but he just resorted to:

"Kinda, yes." He could see Ally biting back her laughter.

When they entered the house, Austin understood why he had been dragged here. It was everything his home wasn't: It was cozy, full of warm colors, of polished food, of walls consisting solely of windows and of the ocean everywhere.

On the piano by the veranda door stood a assembled collection of pictures - they passed them on Mrs. Dawson's tour of the house and Austin could see many pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, of Ally, Denny and the Dawsons or just of the Ally and her son, however two pictures featured Denny in the arms of a dark-haired man with floppy hair.

"C'mon, Austin, I'll show you your room," Mrs. Dawson said and he obediently followed her her upstairs. A long corridor with several doors to each side opened in front of him and Mrs. Dawson lead him toward the last room. "It used to be my father's room," Mrs. Dawson said as she motioned toward the room filled with books and maps.

It looked like a room out of an old English mansion, Austin found. A golden, polished telescope stood by the window next to an antique looking globe. It was cozy, but from another century.

"So, who are you really?" Mrs. Dawson asked.

Austin, surprised at the question, turned around. "I beg your pardon?"

"To Ally. Are you her boyfriend?"

Austin's eyes widened in surprise. "Her boyfriend? No! What makes you think I'm her boyfriend?"

Mrs. Dawson digested the words, then tilted her head. "She must really like you then," she said and after a moment of consideration, she added: "Or she is really desperate. Ally usually doesn't like other people."

"What do you mean, she doesn't like …?"

"She doesn't like her stuff or herself to be touched, both figuratively and literally" Mrs. Dawson said. "And she doesn't like to be close to people. At all. So you must either be special to her or she must be desperate. I need to talk to Lester about this," Mrs. Dawson added and it took Austin a moment to understand that Lester was probably Mr. Dawson, Ally's father.

"Why is it that she doesn't like to be close to people?" Austin wanted to know. "She just seemed regular to me in that respect."

"Try touch her book and you'll see," Mrs. Dawson said and Austin remembered a particular incident.

"Oh."

"Anyway, since she's your songwriter, I guess you guys will be working," Mrs. Dawson said. "You can use the piano downstairs, but please, if you feel like an artist and inspiration is hitting you like lightning at four in the night, just turn around and continue to sleep. Inspiration will knock you out again."

She left and Austin put down his bags and looked around. It was a nice room. It reminded him of his parents house before they moved to the mansion just opposite his. It reminded him of High School and childhood. It reminded him of an entirely different life.

"Hey."

Austin turned to see Ally leaning in the door frame. "Like your room?"

"Sorry for trying to drag you to Reykjavik and thanks for dragging me somewhere warmer instead," he said.

"You are welcome," Ally said. "Though I wish you wouldn't just follow every crazy idea you have - and mess up everyone's daily schedule." She pointed at her cell phone. "Trish texted me and threatened to kill you."

"Naah, she won't do that, my revenue is way too high," he said. "So this is your parents' house?"

"My grandparents' house, actually," Ally said. "Mom's staying here as long as she's working here. And I figured you'll be away from everything as long as you are here."

"You are good at this kind of stuff - making people work," Austin said as he followed her out of the room.

They went down the stairs and back into the living room. Only a counter was dividing the kitchen from the rest of the house and Ally went behind it, opened the fridge and offered Austin a bottle of coke.

"I'd rather have beer, if you don't mind," he said.

"Do you get drunk easily?"

"From beer?" He laughed. "No. Not at all. Nobody gets drunk from just one beer."

Something flashed in Ally's eyes and she took out a bottle too. He opened his on the counter and when she tried, the cap didn't move. Austin gently took the bottle from her hands and opened it for her. "Are you sure you want to drink that?"

"Nobody gets drunk from just one beer," she said, taking the bottle back from him.

"I have a bad influence on you," he laughed and followed her out onto the veranda. It took her three bottles and an exceedingly long drawn conversation about cloud watching to make Austin understand that Ally could do anything but hold her liquor.

He had to admit she got - in a completely non-romantic, non-sexual way - completely adorable the more drunk she got and she started to call him names by the time he lead her back into the house.

"You, sir," she slurred. "Are the most irresponsible, detestable, childish, immature person I have ever met." She waved his hands away and proceeded to stumble through the living room.

Austin watched amused as she rounded the wing chair twice and while she was on her second round, a new voice said:

"She doesn't get that from me." Mrs. Dawson was sitting by the kitchen counter on a bar chair, sipping on a cup with tea, presumably. She was on the phone - the muffled voice from the other side was male. "Mr. Dawson," Mrs. Dawson mouthed silently.

"Uhm," Austin managed, but Mrs. Dawson just waved with some disinterest.

"Go ahead and carry her upstairs and make sure you don't wake Denny," she said and Austin did as he was told. Austin helped Ally up the stairs and listened to her string of inanities.

"You should have seen Selena Gomez!" she slurred. "She's so talented and so fearless. She's everything I'm not."

Austin got her into her room, removed her shoes and managed to get her under the sheets. She blinked at him tiredly, almost half out. She was cute, he had to admit. Cute and adorable.

"I can't understand why Cassidy would leave such an immature, irresponsible, immature guy like you," she mumbled. She squinted a bit, but was completely serious.

"You say 'immature' twice," Austin said quitely.

"I know," Ally told him. "Because you are really immature. It was to empa - empisize - to stress my point."

Part of him knew them that there was a bit of her he would probably never understand. He didn't know why he would never understand it and he didn't know why he wished he would, because Ally was everything he didn't look for in a girl.

She was pretty and cute, but not beautiful in the classical sense; she was a bookworm and a nerd; she never attended parties, not if her life depended on it; she made him feel like he was loosing control all them time - on her terms, however, and she was almost always collected; she would have been a cat lady or a librarian or both hadn't she become a songwriter and she was really not that pretty. Not Selena Gomez or Cassidy Kennedy pretty.

"Good night," he said and tugged the blanket tighter around her. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillow and her hands tightly grasped the blanket.

Behind him, a someone cleared their throat. He found Denny clawing his blanket, looking a mixture of being afraid and being bemused.

He seemed to fight with himself, but then he sighed, obviously giving in into the rational decision his mind was providing him with. "Are you going to tug me in, too?" He nodded over his shoulder. "Grandma's still talking to granddad and the giggling has gone overboard and I don't was to intrude."

"Uhm, sure," Austin said. "But I'm not sure how to do this?"

Denny looked at him as if he head grown horns, then decisively took Austin's hand. "You just have to put me to bed, check my room for monsters and tell me they don't exist. Usually that works."

"Why don't you do it yourself?" Austin inquired.

Denny rolled his eyes at the obviousness of the question. "I'm sixty pounds tops and you are around twice my size. Your chances of survival are much higher."

"Gee, thanks."

"You are welcome," Denny said. "And please don't drink alcohol with my mother. She once got drunk by sniffing on cough syrup."

"I keep that in mind," Austin said and accompanied Denny to his room. He tugged him in, looked for the monsters, reassured him that all was going to be fine and finally fell asleep, leaning against Denny's bed on the floor.

He didn't dream of Cassidy, he dreamed of nothing at all, which was really an improvement. But when he woke the next day, his shoulder and neck aching, a sleeping boy's nose pressed against the back of his head, he believed to remember a tiny glimpse of something that might have been a dream.

Laughter of a girl coming from the long end of a corridor and the feeling of sunshine of his skin. When he gently moved away from Denny and to the bathroom, he felt the feeling of change.

Good change. The feeling of breaking down walls he didn't even know existed.

Breaking down walls.

Breaking down the walls.

He went down to the piano and played a chord and hummed along.

"So find a way somehow
And break down the walls."

end (6/?)

For every review, Ally gets a pickle and Austin gets a pancake. :)