The bell above the door of Sonic Boom jingled softly as the wind outside carried in the warm scent of spring. The music store was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon. Trish was late for her shift (as usual), and Dez was off filming what he claimed would be "the next great spaghetti western—but with squirrels." That left just Austin and Ally.

Ally was at the piano, hunched over a sheet of half-written lyrics, her fingers occasionally tapping out gentle chords. She'd been working on the bridge of their new song for hours, and the frustration was starting to show. Her ponytail was coming undone, her notebook was a mess of scratched-out lines, and her brow had taken on that classic Ally Dawson "I will defeat this rhyme scheme or die trying" look.

Austin watched her from behind the counter, pretending to rearrange some guitar picks but mostly just... watching. It always amazed him how she got completely lost in her music. Focused. Driven. Kind of adorable, honestly.

But she was also clearly overthinking things. Again.

Time to fix that.

He strummed a random chord on the display guitar next to him, just loud enough to grab her attention. Ally glanced up briefly, but didn't say anything.

He grinned.

"Hey, Ally," he said, sauntering toward her like a rock star who absolutely had nothing better to do than be ridiculous.

"Mm?" she replied, still only half-listening.

"What do you call a musician who breaks up with their metronome?"

She blinked slowly, finally looking at him. "…I don't know. What?"

He leaned against the piano and said it with dramatic flair: "Someone who just couldn't keep the tempo in the relationship."

There was a pause. Ally stared at him.

It wasn't a graceful silence. It was the kind of moment where the air practically begged for someone to start laughing—or cringing.

And then it happened.

Ally's lips twitched. She tried to hold it in—he could tell—but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. She let out a sudden giggle, followed by a groan. "Austin, that is so bad."

"But look at that!" he said triumphantly, pointing at her face. "We've got a confirmed smile, folks! All-natural, no preservatives."

She tried to frown but couldn't keep it up. The smile had already taken over, softening her whole face and making her eyes sparkle behind those expressive brown lashes. "You seriously interrupted my writing for that?"

"Absolutely," he said. "And I'd do it again."

Ally rolled her eyes, laughing as she stood and crossed her arms. "You're a walking dad joke."

"Correction: I'm a rockstar walking dad joke," Austin said, tossing his hair dramatically.

"Oh, excuse me," she said, grinning. "Clearly I've underestimated your comedic genius."

"You have," he said. Then, softer: "But honestly… I just wanted to see you smile."

The mood shifted just a little, the teasing easing into something gentler. Ally's expression softened as she stepped closer. "You didn't have to tell a terrible joke for that, you know."

"I kinda did," Austin said with a shrug. "You were stressing. It's just a song, Ally. You don't have to get it perfect the first time."

She sighed and leaned against the piano, nodding slowly. "I know. I just… I want this one to mean something."

"It already does," he said, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're writing it. That's what makes it special."

They stood there for a moment, the sunlight painting gold across the floorboards, the smell of guitar wood and old sheet music floating around them.

Then Ally smirked. "You know, that joke was still horrible."

Austin gasped. "Rude! I worked hard on that!"

"I'm pretty sure you stole it from a music meme page."

"…Okay, but I delivered it like a pro."

Ally laughed again, and this time she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for always making me laugh, even when I don't want to."

Austin smiled, that goofy grin that made her fall for him in the first place. "Anytime. Laughter is, like, 60% of my personality."

"And the other 40% is hair products."

"Exactly."

They both laughed, and Ally sat back down at the piano. "Okay. Let's finish this bridge together."

Austin grabbed his guitar and pulled a stool beside her. "Only if I get to title it The Smile Song."

She rolled her eyes, but this time, she didn't argue.