Burnt Hot Dogs, an Austin and Ally oneshot

I do not own Austin and Ally. This prompt response is long overdue. Please enjoy and review!

Stepping in line behind Ally, he puts his hands on her sides. She jumps.

"Austin, you scared me," she scolds as he tries to hide his smile. He wraps her in a hug as an apology.

Not that he needs a reason to hug her.

In his opinion anyway.

"Why do we have to wait in line? I already know how tall I am." He looks past her to see all the other kids waiting to get their height and weight taken.

"Would you rather be stuck in precalc right now?"

Hmm. Inside, reviewing for the final exam while it's ninety degrees and sunny outside.

Yeah, he thinks he'll just wait here.

Besides, he can't keep his hands on Ally's waist inside.

(the page breaks here)

Getting off the scale, he heads over to the picnic table where Dez and Trish are waiting.

"Do you smell burnt hot dogs?" Dez asks as they sit down.

He removes his arm from her waist to check the time on his phone. "Well, lunch is in ten minutes."

Back goes his arm.

Funny how nobody says anything, despite the fact that they claim to be just friends. He claims it because it is true, not because he wants it to be.

Judging by how she's nestled into his side, he's not the only one. Who else cuddles in ninety degree heat?

"Can you believe that in less than a month we'll be out of high school?" Ally edges closer to him.

"Thank goodness for that," Trish remarks, swatting at a fly.

The boys nod in agreement.

"I always thought that I'd be going to college after I got out of school." She swats the fly away.

"Isn't this so much better? You, me, on tour together? It's a dream come true."

The sun may be in his eyes, but he swears she smiled back at him. Question is, was it at the tour, or the idea of them being together? Maybe she just smiled because he did.

Doesn't matter. She's stuck with him.

Not that it feels like being stuck to him.

That's more like Heaven.

(the page breaks here)

He piles the mustard onto his hot dog.

"I can't believe they burnt it," he huffs, taking a bag of chips.

"Told you man." Dez slathers his hot dog in ketchup.

It's not the first time he's done that. He told him when he was going to fail his science test last week. Having Ally in the same class can be quite the distraction.

Speaking of, he did say that they would get together.

If he's been right about other things, who's to say that he won't be right about that?

Well, actually, that'd be Ally. Not that he's asked her yet. Yet, being the key word here. It's that one word he hangs onto, to find some sort of hope for the future.

"Mine's not burnt." She balances her drink and food. Neither of them have the hands to hang onto each other, but he stays close, slowing his gait for her to catch up. He even stops when she drops her chip bag.

Unlike Dez, who keeps on walking to the table.

"Lucky." He sets his plate down, sliding onto the bench. He scoots over to make room for her.

Her hot dog rolls out of it's bun, almost coming off the plate. Austin stops it with his hand, settling it back in its proper place.

His hand was on her hot dog.

That hot dog is in her mouth.

Therefore, by the transitive property, his hand is in her mouth.

No, his hand is on his hot dog.

Maybe he shouldn't have missed math today after all.

"Dude, you got mustard on your shirt," Dez points out.

"Let me get you a napkin," Ally says, leaving the table.

When she's gone, Trish sets down her hot dog. "If you weren't staring at Ally so much, that wouldn't have happened."

"What? I'm not staring at her."

Was that meant to be convincing? Because it sounded a lot like, 'you weren't supposed to notice me staring at her.'

The way he stuffs half of his hot dog in his face after really sells the performance.

"It's totally obvious." Dez watches as another glob of mustard falls, this time to his pants.

By any chance, will she be helping him clean up too?

Then again, with everyone around, maybe she shouldn't. Who knows how he'd react?

That could get embarrassing.

(the page breaks here)

The whistle blows, and he wonders why he thought it would be a good idea to play after eating that hot dog.

"Go Austin, go!" she screams from the sideline.

That was an awfully big hint.

He waves, bumping into Dez. "Keep your eye on the game, man."

"Right," he says, running past to steal the ball. Swiping his foot around, he gets it going in the opposite direction.

He is not going to get distracted again. No matter how hard she screams his name.

This would be a lot easier if she stopped screaming.

Trish could stop screaming too, but that wouldn't make any difference to him.

There's only one voice he hears in that crowd.

(the page breaks here)

He scoops her up in his arms, twirling her in the air.

For an impromptu game with his classmates, it seems to be a bit of an overreaction.

He's still not putting her down.

"We won!" He sets her on her feet. Too much spinning is making him dizzy.

Or is it her that's making him lightheaded?

"I'm so proud of you. You scored three goals."

"It was nothing," he says with the wave of a hand, sweat pouring down his back.

A wheezing Dez puts his hands on his knees. "We won!"

"I'm sure the ground is very happy to hear that." Trish slaps him on the back, and he yelps out in pain.

Sunburn.

He glares at her, and Ally smiles.

Looks like Dez isn't the only one feeling weak in the knees now.

(the page breaks here)

The classroom clock hand creeps toward the twelve. In ten seconds, he is going to grab her hand and ask her if she'd like to get a milkshake with him.

As in, on a date.

Without Dez or Trish.

He reaches out, and the loudspeaker comes on. How could he have forgotten, the principal's end of the year speech?

It might have had something to do with the girl sitting next to him.

"Good afternoon students..." He drones on, but Austin tunes him out. He needs to find a way to get her alone in the classroom.

"Are you coming?" Ally shakes his arm.

The room has cleared out. It's just them, and the teacher who stacking boxes of her things to take to her car.

He should ask her now. But his nerve is mysteriously missing.

Maybe it's in one of those boxes.

"Do you need any help carrying those to your car?" He motions to the boxes, and Ally's hand falls off his arm.

"That would be delightful; thank you." She takes the top box off and hands it to him.

Nope. No nerve in that box.

Just a bunch of motivational posters, none of which can motivate him to go for it anyway.

He'll get there eventually.

(the page breaks here)

Wiggling in his seat, the superintendent calls him forward.

Moving the microphone up, he looks at his cue cards. The valedictorian had gotten a last minute case of food poisoning, and now he has to read her speech.

Then why is he tearing the pink cards in halves, and then quarters?

"So I was asked to read the valedictorian's speech for her. But I can't stand up here and lie to you all. High school isn't about what we've learned. Well, actually it is, but not in a textbook kind of way. Our teachers have taught us to be better people, who work hard and follow our dreams.

"Last week, my newest single hit number one on the charts. If I had never tried, I would never be where I am today. Not right now, because I'd probably be still graduating. But I wouldn't be the success I am. I started with a dream. And sure, I learned a few things along the way, but that's more than a textbook could ever teach me.

"I know all my English teachers are squirming in their seats, because I'm not supposed to start sentences with conjunctions. But, er, however, I find it more important that they taught me to mean what I say, whether it be a song lyric, or a five page essay on Shakespeare.

"I'm sorry Mary Lou, that I didn't read your speech. It's just, I don't think high school is to further our careers. We're meant to make friends, learn lessons and find ourselves. I know I have."

The auditorium is silent, and all eyes are on him. He moves the microphone out of his face so they know he is finished.

One person claps. Then another.

He breathes a sigh of relief when the room is full of applause.

Ally runs her hand along him as he passes, smiling at him. She's proud.

He's so happy, he almost trips on his way back to his seat.

He's going to blame his gown.

(the page breaks here)

She knocks on his door, the sun barely risen behind her.

"Ally? What are you doing here so early?" It's his first day out of school, and he planned on sleeping in.

Not that he isn't alright with waking up to this beautiful sight.

"I couldn't sleep. So I grabbed this chocolate bar so I wouldn't wake my dad making breakfast and went for a walk. But it's so hot out that it melted in my hand and I was wondering if you had a napkin I could use." The wrapper is poking out of her pocket.

Maybe she didn't come to see him.

Maybe he should have put a shirt on before answering the door.

Maybe he wouldn't mind chocolate fingerprints lining his chest.

"Yeah, come on in."

"Thanks."

He takes her hand, and she leaves chocolate prints around his wrist. She tries to wriggle free, but he doesn't let her go.

Today he's going to tell her. They're out of high school, and it's a new start for him. This is the rest of his life.

What better way to spend it than with Ally?

Wait, no.

What better way to spend it than with Ally, as his girlfriend?

Much better.