Roll the Windows Back Up, an Austin and Ally one-shot

I do not own Austin and Ally, or the song Someone Like You by the Summer Set (page breaks). To fulfill more prompts. Reviews are appreciated.

He remembers the last time he was up here. It was years ago.

This year, it's thirteen minutes to midnight, and here he is, behind his acoustic guitar. It's his second chance, and he should be doing something big, with wild dance moves and an infectious beat.

"Happy anniversary Ally," he says, strumming the guitar.

He wishes she was here. Instead, she's in front of the hotel tv, baby cradled in her arms.

Austin was going to turn down the gig. It was their fifth wedding anniversary, and he wanted to spend it with her. She insisted otherwise.

Breaking into an acoustic song, he poured his heart out to her. Sure, he had told everyone he was going to do a pop song. He wanted to surprise her.

Colored flashing lights and a sweet song that doesn't match them?

Yeah, he'd call that a success.

(You got a price tag hanging on the back of your dress)

He remembers that day that he finally snapped, clear as anything.

Okay, so clear as anything clear. It was much clearer than cloudy glasses or murky pond water.

"Hey, can you help me? There's a tiny snap on the back, and I can't reach it." Her elbows fly through the air. He grabs them, settling them by her sides.

"What's the point of getting a dress if you can't do it up?"

She's dragged him around this entire mall, and they still haven't found her prom dress. The one that will impress her date Hank Everts.

If she wanted to impress Hank that badly, why wasn't he here, helping her do up buttons and telling her how beautiful she looked, only to be ignored?

"Once it's done up, I'll be fine." She feels his fingers at the base of her neck.

When she said it was fine, she seriously underestimated herself.

All those perfume samples must be going to his head, because he would never say those next words sober minded.

"You need to buy this dress."

"But you just said-"

"If Hank doesn't fall for you in that, then he's insane."

He can hear his heartbeat over the creaking of the next dressing room door.

Wait, that's not just his heartbeat.

Her hand rests against her chest, her mouth in a perfect 'o' shape.

That's not the only perfect thing in this situation.

"You think?" She swivels around, no longer wanting to make eye contact through the mirror. The price tag flaps in the breeze.

He'd like to tell her that it shouldn't take a dress to make him fall for her. He'd like to tell her that he's already fallen for her. He'd like to tell her to ditch that Hank E, and how he's going to need a hankie, because he's going to cry rivers over what he's lost.

But now is not the time for terrible word play.

Now is the time to curl his fingers under her chin and kiss her cheek. "Yup."

He's never been more sure in his life.

(You roll the windows down when it's starting to rain)

It's the last day of their senior year, and he's driving her to the beach, where they're going to meet Dez and Trish.

She looks out the truck window and notices that it's starting to rain.

Down goes the window.

"Ally, you're getting the inside of the car all wet."

"Sorry." Her hand goes for the button again, but he takes a hand off the wheel to stop her.

And he then proceeds to put down his window.

It's no fun if she's the only one getting wet.

"Austin, you're getting the inside of the car all wet," she mocks teasingly.

True, but considering they're both wearing their white senior tee shirts, things could get interesting.

No, he's not talking about all of the Sharpie signatures smearing.

Yes, he did just miss the turn for the beach.

"Hold on." He pulls over, slowing the car to a stop. Then he presses her buckle to release her.

"What's going on?"

"Hold on," he repeats, lifting her out of her seat.

Feet on the pavement, she watches the fresh black ink run down his shirt.

He watches her watch him. Just for a minute.


One fluid swoop, and she's in his arms, re-enacting that scene from that movie that he can't remember the name of, because he was too busy holding her and drying her tears.

"Wha-?" she asks breathlessly.

"You said that you thought it was romantic to kiss in the pouring rain."

Her eyes widen. "You remembered that?"

If only he had remembered to roll the windows back up too.

(You love the sing along when you don't know the words)

He turns the radio up, pouring the animal crackers into a bowl.

Uncapping the frosting, she sings along to the song. Or so she thinks she does.

"That is not how the song goes."


"They say, 'Oh-oh, no matter where I go.' Listen."

Dunking a cracker into the frosting, she takes a bite. "That makes a lot more sense."

He paints the back of a cracker with a gob frosting and sticks another to the back. Stuffing it in his mouth, he nods.

"Would you cross the whole world for someone like me?" she asks, referencing the song.

He grabs her hand, amidst all of the animals. If he took more time to study the situation, he'd see that there's a tiger by his pinky, a koala under his frosting coated thumb.

Right now, all he notices is that after all these months, his heart still beats faster with every touch.

No, it's not the sugar playing these games.

"Of course I would Ally. I'm in love with you."

Way to make a girl choke on her animal cracker.

They had said 'I love you' too many times to count. Never had that preposition snuck in there though.

That changes everything.

Actually, it changes nothing, save for the label. Those feelings have been there for a while.

He smacks her back, sputtering apologies. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she finally says.

No more love professions over food. That's a promise.

(You lock your keys in your car right next to your purse)

With her nose pressed against the window, she groans in frustration. Her phone is in her purse. She can't even call him, asking for her spare key.

She just had to stop to get gas on the way to the studio.

"Um, excuse me?" The man behind the counter gives her his attention. His mustache rustles as he impatiently huffs.

"Can I help you?" His thick accent is a bit offputting.

"Is there a phone that I can use? I locked my keys in the car," she pleads.

He brushes potato chip crumbs out of his mustache. "Don't you kids all have those cellular phones now?"

"I locked my purse in the car too."

He scoffs, disapprovingly, taking the phone off the hook. It has a long cord, but she can't walk very far with it.

She tells him the number and he dials.

One ring, two rings. Please pick up.

"Hello?" Austin sounds out of breath, like he ran to get the phone.

"I locked my keys and purse in the car. Can you come help me?" The attendant rolls his eyes.

"Sure. Just tell me where, and we'll be there as soon as we can." She can hear the door getting locked behind him.

Giving him the address, she tells him that she'll be waiting outside. Not her average 'I love you' that she normally does, but the attendant is not even pretending not to eavesdrop.

Thanking him, she goes outside.

Now to stand in the beating sun until her husband and daughter come. Hopefully she didn't wake her from her nap.

That'd be her luck. He would have just gotten her to fall asleep, after countless lullabies, and she would have woken her back up.

Maybe he should put his phone on vibrate.

Maybe she shouldn't lock her keys in the car.

Maybe she should just forget to assign blame, and instead roll her pant legs up.

Honk all you want boys.

She's taken.

(You only show up right out of the blue)

Her face is purple, but she is not holding her breath.

Purple lips, purple cheeks, purple eyes.

And one giant purple costume.

"Ally, is that you?" he asks the giant crayon.

"I'm Violet," she responds, keeping up her persona.

"Ally, what are you doing? Who's watching our daughter?"

She tugs him, as well as she can in her costume, that is, off stage. "The purple crayon had an accident. And since I knew the choreography, they asked me to fill in. Don't worry, Dez is watching her."

Pointing out into the audience, he sees her bundled up in his best friend's arms. Dez goes to wave, but thinks better of it.

"Alright, let's do this." He goes in for a kiss.

"Purple lipstick," she reminds him.

He backs down, running up to the microphone. "Hey guys! Are you ready to rock?"

Never when he agreed to this charity show did he think that he would be so attracted to a purple crayon.

One hour, and that will all change.

One hour, and he'll have purple lips.

(I'll be waiting up all night because your little things)

One minute to midnight, there's a light knocking at the door.

"Why are you all sweaty and out of breath?"

"I ran to make sure I made it back in time." He steps inside, ruffling his daughter's hair.

"In time for what?"

The count down starts. He gets a head start, kissing her before they hit midnight.

Screw the countdown. It's his anniversary. It was anyways.

That doesn't matter. He'll kiss her whenever he pleases.

There's thousands of people kissing their significant others (and some strangers, most likely) heralding in new beginnings. He doesn't need that. He likes things the way they are.

Him, his wife, and his beautiful baby girl.

What more could he ask for?