Chocolate Egg Hallucinations, an Austin and Ally one-shot

I do not own Austin and Ally. To fulfill a multitude of received prompts. Please remember to review!

It doesn't matter what his profile picture is. So what if he has his arms wrapped around a laughing Ally? So what if their outfits just happened to match that day?

So what if the picture got a dozen likes within a minute of posting it?

That wasn't going to change his relationship status.


It's a good thing those things can't get personalized. If they did, he thinks his would read something along the lines of 'desperately in love with a girl who is currently his best friend, because he is not going to risk everything.'

Though she is his friend, and would most likely see said status.

It might be best to leave it as single.

(Monday, morning)

He should have known better than staying up late to write that song. He should have known that he would sleep through the alarm.

There was no way he could have known what happens next.


"Austin, wake up!"

"Huh?" he asks in a sleepy daze. Ally's hovering over him with a pillow.

He's just going to ignore the fact that she's straddling him right now.


"We're going to be late, and I cannot be late on the first day. What if I get lost finding my homeroom, or there's no seats and I'm left to sit in the back next to that kid that carves skulls into the desk? Or I could forget my locker combination and-"

Whack. "I'm up."

Wham. Whack. Wham. Whack.

"Pancakes!" Mr. Moon calls from downstairs. They cease their pillow fighting, pausing to catch their breath. Her chest heaves above him.

If he wasn't up before, he's definitely up now.

He drops the pillow, moving to get off the bed. But with her still straddling him, he can't.

"Ally," he says.

"Right, sorry." She crawls off of him. "I'll meet you downstairs, after I get dressed."

You mean she's not staying in those shorts all day?

Then again, why should everyone else get to enjoy what's meant to be his?

All his.

(Tuesday afternoon)

He grips the tape roll, tugging to get something to come loose.

"What are you doing?" She leans against the adjacent locker.

"I'm putting some pictures from this summer up in my locker." He bubbles a piece and sticks it to the back of a photo.

"Why not just use magnets?"

He drops the picture. It lands tape side down and sticks to the floor.


And by fantastic, he means positively dreadful, because now his picture is stuck to the floor, and everyone can see him and Ally playing chicken with Dez and Trish.

When he bends down to get the picture, it sticks. "Didn't think of it."

Uh oh.

Part of the picture comes up, torn in half. Not tops and bottoms, where it'd be him with Dez, her with Trish. No, that'd be too easy.

"Hey guys. Aww, you're putting up a picture of you and Ally?" He clasps his hands together.

It's times like this he wishes he had a volume control button on his best friend.

Continue to decorate your lockers people. Those books aren't going to organize themselves.

"The picture ripped," Austin explains. He points to the remaining half, still stuck to the floor.

Ripping off a new piece of tape, he attaches his half to the locker door.

He should have used magnets.

(Wednesday, morning)

That picture is still stuck to the floor.

Stepping around it, he dials his locker combination. His stomach growls. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to skip breakfast.

"That must be some super strong duct tape." Dez takes the foil off of a chocolate egg and pops it in his mouth.

"I brought a ruler to try and pry it off the floor." More stomach noises.

"Dude, your stomach."

He shakes his head, extracting the ruler from his backpack. "I didn't get a chance to eat this morning."

Dez passes him the bag of chocolate eggs.

Austin takes one, giving him the bag back. After a bite, he grins in delight.

"Ooh, you got the caramel ones!"

"You have something in your teeth," Ally remarks as the girls approach them.

He shuts his mouth, swiping his tongue across his teeth.

Marvelous. Now he's feeling self conscious about smiling, which is a total drag, because she always makes him smile.

If she had been there to hit him with a pillow this morning, he would have time for breakfast. Then he wouldn't have eaten the, admittedly delicious, caramel egg.

He can't blame her for not waking him.

He can, however, and will, blame her for not letting him sleep last night. All he could think about was her. How she had laughed when he accidentally put his gym shorts on backwards. How she had smiled when he offered to walk her home after school.

How she had put up the other picture of them playing chicken, where she had fallen into the pool, popping up into his arms. The one where Trish beamed victoriously, Dez's arms up in the air.

The one where she was wet, and absolutely gorgeous and distracting. Had he put that one in his locker, he would never get to class.

"Wasn't Easter months ago?" Trish asks as he goes for the second egg.

His stomach doesn't seem to mind. It's just looking for food.

He's still blaming Ally.

(Thursday, night)

They haven't been in school for a week, and already he has a test.

"You're still eating those caramel eggs?" she asks as he lets her in.

This time he makes sure his smile is clean before answering. "He had a whole bag of them. It was huge. And they're so good."

He could show her how good if she wanted. He'd be up for that.

Way, way up, like in the stratosphere.

"How many have you had so far?"

"Not that many." A very vague answer, here meaning way too many for her line of reasoning. "Let's get started with the studying."

"Okay." She sets her bookbag on the couch.

"I was actually thinking we could study in my room tonight." No particular reason.

Certainly not so he can indulge in any impulse he has to kiss her without his parents being an audience.

Certainly not so he can whack her with a pillow again, and get into another pillow fight. One that doesn't get interrupted while she's hovering over him.

Picking her bookbag back up, she follows him up the stairs. "Is that where you've stashed your eggs?"


She grins, but she really has no clue. It's not about the eggs.

It's about her.

(Friday, afternoon)

He should have paid more attention when they were studying. More correct attention, that is. To the subject matter, and not Ally.

Things he paid attention to last night: Ally's eyes, Ally's hair falling in her face, Ally's face after he pushed the hair away, Ally's mouth.

Things he did not pay attention to: butterflies.

The one thing he needed to know, and he neglected to pay attention.

He knew taking this Animal Science class would be a bust. Why didn't he pick a different elective?

"How do you think you did on the test?"

That's why.

"I forgot everything."

"But it was exactly what we studied last night."

He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm sure I'll do better next time."

Next time, he's not asking her over to study. There is no way he's failing his senior year because he can't admit to a girl that he likes her.

Perhaps another chocolate egg will distract him.

(Friday, night)

He really needs to stop eating these eggs. They're giving him hallucinations.

Which is odd, because he only had one today. Surprisingly enough, they've lost their spark.

Unlike a certain somebody he knows.

The same certain somebody he's hallucinating about.

"Ever try and count how many stars are out there?" Her hand is in his.

"Once, but I lost count." His side is pressed against hers.

"There must be thousands. Millions even." Her barefoot brushes against his.


There is no way that he's laying in his backyard stargazing with her. There's no way that their friends still haven't shown up yet, a good two hours late.

And there is definitely no way that her hand fits ever so perfectly in his hand.

He turns his head away from the stars. On his back, all he can see is her ear.

Wait, no. Now she turned.


"You're wearing a butterfly shirt."

"My other pajamas were in the wash." She flips so that she is no longer on her back. Their hands separate.

Is it possible that her eyes sparkle more than the stars?

Is it possible that he just asked the cheesiest question he possibly could?

"So, should we call them?" His phone is inside. He doesn't want to go get it.

In fact, he'd kind of like to never get up.

"Give them a little longer."

He gives them the rest of the night.

They never show.

(Saturday, morning)

Logging on, he takes a brief look at his profile picture. It's the same beautiful smile she had on last night.

Last night, when he told her some things.

Last night, when they did some things.

One thing in particular, that makes him click the edit button.

In a relationship with Ally Dawson.

Notifications pop up immediately. It doesn't matter. He knows what they're saying.

They like this.

He thinks he likes this too.