High Ceilings, Bloody Teeth and Boys Named Chubbs, an Austin and Ally one shot
I do not own Austin and Ally. To fulfill the prompts I received. Please review and enjoy!
Tugging his boxers on over his sagging body, he makes his way to the kitchen.
"Chubbs?" he asks, spotting his grandson on the bar stool as Ally makes him breakfast.
"Grandpops!" The kid jumps down.
That's right. Hug your grandfather in his underwear because he forgot that you were coming over today. Good little Chubbs.
His wife, whose hair is piled high in a bedhead bun, motions for him to go change. He takes the hint. Climbing the stairs, he can still smell the pancakes. They better save some for him.
They don't call him Chubbs for nothing.
In actuality, he's rail thin, but he can pack away food like there's no tomorrow.
If he doesn't leave any pancakes, there might not be for him.
He's kidding. He would never hurt his grandson.
He's far too old and feeble for that.
Okay, so he's old, but he's hardly feeble. He just has a soft spot for the kid. He seems to be made of them. One for his wife, one for each of his children, and one both of his grandkids.
"Where is Bean Sprout?" he remembers to ask, once he's back in the kitchen, fully clothed.
Ironically, Bean Sprout is neither tall, nor thin. But he's addicted to them in his fried rice. The same fried rice that makes him fat.
Somebody should really do something about this nickname issue.
"Mommy took him shopping with her. Said she needed a special helper. Guess I'm not special." He crosses his arms, stabbing himself with his fork.
"You're very special sweetie." Two pancakes slide onto his plate as she hugs him from behind.
"You're special too." Austin gets a kiss.
He smiles. He had been complaining that she gave him first dibs on the pancakes.
Oh well. He had gotten a kiss out of the deal.
When he's sure Chubbs is busied with his breakfast, he kisses her back.
This time he gets her lips.
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Her glasses fall down her nose, and he pushes them up for her.
"Look Grandpops, balloons. Can I get one?" He juts his bottom lip out. A trait he picked up from Ally.
Neither of which he can deny. "Sure. I don't see why not."
The get called up to the ticket booth. The worker trapped inside's makeup is running from the heat. It's too humid, and everyone is sweating.
Ally's makeup doesn't run.
That's because she's not wearing any. She doesn't need it.
She's perfect, just the way she is.
"Sir?" the worker asks, wiping at her face with the back of her hand.
"Right. Here you go." He flashes his identification for the senior discount and passes a few bills through the slot.
She gives him his tickets. "Enjoy the zoo."
If she really wanted him to enjoy it, there would have been more enthusiasm in her voice. The sun must have drained it out.
Funny, his wife is still bright as ever.
As bright as that yellow balloon they buy anyway.
They tether it to his right wrist, his left falling into her hand. Austin swings an arm around him.
Oh, is that her shoulder his hand is gracing?
"What do you want to see first Chubbs?" She asks, inching closer to let his hand relax. How generous.
Give the boy an option and he picks something on the opposite end of the zoo. On one hand, he's thrilled. It means more time with her, and he loves the monkeys.
This heat he could live without.
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Home from the zoo, they have to cut the balloon from his wrist.
"Why did you double knot it?" She rummages in the drawer.
"I didn't want him to lose it."
There was no way of that happening now. She'd be lucky if she didn't cut him getting it off.
He takes the scissors out.
"I think he lost it," she says as the balloon floats up to the ceiling.
"Way to go Grandpops," Chubbs sulks, taking her side.
There is no way he's going to get a ladder and try to reach that thing. They just had to go for the high ceilings, didn't they?
It can stay up there. Then every time he looks up, he'll be reminded of what an idiot he is.
Though he's been married to the best girl in the world for forty years now, so clearly he can't be doing it all wrong.
"Sorry," he says, messing up his hair, kissing her on the cheek.
If being wrong means apologizing, and this is it, then he's okay with being wrong.
He's more than okay.
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Resting his grandson's fingers on the frets, he glides his hand across the strings.
"Mamie, look, I did it!" He beams, running his own hand along the strings. Over and over, he plays that chord like it's the best thing to ever happen to him.
"I'm very proud of you." She watches him swat his grandfather away when he tries to teach him another chord.
"Don't you want to learn another Chubbs?"
The boy shakes his head, and strums again, making up a song. The words don't belong together, but he's learning.
If Ally has her way, he'll learn.
As soon as he lets Austin proceed to the next chord.
"Help me make some sandwiches for lunch?" she asks him. He glances to the kitchen.
The empty kitchen, where there aren't little children running amok. Where he can have his way with her, because that smile is too cute not to kiss.
The kitchen, where she takes out the bread and cheese.
"Wait, we're actually making sandwiches?"
"What'd you think we were going to do?" Taking the twist tie off the bread, she lets it drop to the ground as he shows her what he had in mind.
He bites her lip, because he knows after all these years, it still drives her mad, and pulls away. "Something like that."
Great, now the cheese is on the floor too. Good thing she hadn't unwrapped it yet.
Chubbs calls from the next room, breaking the moment.
"Grandpops, I'm ready to learn the next chord now."
"Come eat first," he calls back. He steals a quick kiss.
Or what he thought was a quick kiss.
"Gross, get a room." Chubbs sits on his stool, rolling his eyes. One of the many things he's learned from Bean Sprout, and their bountiful movie marathons.
Austin almost quips that they had a room until he came in, but he was the one that told him to come.
Besides, he's used to this. Having three kids, one of them was bound to walk in on him every once in a while.
Soon he had learned that the bathroom was a great place for these sorts of activities. No one interrupts their parents in the shower. That's mentally scarring.
"Diagonals or down the center?" Ally passes him the sandwiches to put in the pan.
"Everyone knows that you cut diagonals. Geez Austin."
"Yeah, geez Grandpops."
That kid's going to be lucky if he gets to learn a new chord.
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This explains the humidity.
Thunder crashes outside, lightning flashing in front of their window. Chubbs hides his face in Ally's chest.
Fine, he'll share. Only because the kid looks legitimately scared.
He gets dibs on her tonight.
"How about we sing, so you won't be so afraid?" she suggests. His face pulls back from her chest, a bit pink from pressing so hard.
"But the guitar is all the way over there." He points a shaky finger to where he propped it up during lunch.
"Ever hear of a cappella?" Austin hums a few bars and breaks into song. A song that any six year old ought to know.
Chubbs breaks free of Ally and belts out his own version of the next line.
"Don't come back some other day!"
She reels him back in. "Sweetie, it has to rain, or nothing would grow."
"If it doesn't rain, there'll be no potatoes or tomatoes. And if there's no potatoes or tomatoes, there'll be no french fries. Or ketchup." Austin adds.
"No ketchup?" His eyes swell with tears. His favorite condiment, gone, all because he wants to play outside.
"Or pizza sauce."
A tear leaks down his face. She rubs it away with her thumb, frowning at her husband for putting such ideas in his head.
"Don't worry. Everyone knows that potatoes come from Idaho."
Not an entirely true statement, but if it calms him down, it'll work. After all, his mother lets him believe in the tooth fairy. "Mhm. Now tell me, how's that loose tooth of yours?"
"It's really loose." He perks up, forgetting about the potatoes and rainstorm. Now all he's concerned about it knocking that tooth out with his tongue.
Ew, he just accidentally licked Austin's face.
There's only one tongue that gets to do that.
Yet another thing to add on to his to do list for when Chubbs is gone.
"You going to put it under your pillow when it comes out?" He wipes his face with the hem of his shirt.
"Yup, and then I get a whole dollar. I'm gonna buy me all kinds of candy," he boasts. His tongue presses the tooth further out.
Neither of them think the dollar will get him very far with that, but they'd hate to burst his bubble.
Soon enough he'll learn there's much easier ways to taste something sweet without paying a price.
He sticks his hand out to catch the tooth as it tumbles out of his mouth.
"What kind of candy?" He needs to think about other things, that aren't kissing his wife or the fact that there's a bloody tooth in the palm of his hand.
"Taffy," he tries to say as Ally presses a napkin to his gums.
He nods. Taffy, taffy, taffy.
It is so not helping.
He caves, and lets himself think about kissing her, because anything is better than thinking about that bloody tooth in his hand.
That, and he really wants to.
He wants to take her, messy bun, and glasses and all and hold her tight, having his way with her. He'll press her against that couch, once Chubbs is gone of course, and let his lips map out every inch of her he's already memorized.
And then he'll look up to the ceiling and see that stupid yellow balloon.
It reminds him that he's loved. Loved enough to share his children, his grandchildren, his life.
May that yellow balloon never come down. He loves it.
He loves her.