Gelatin Legs, an Austin and Ally one-shot

I do not own Austin and Ally. As requested by Paige. Enjoy, review, and be sure to check out my new account (Skwirelygurli) on FictionPress.

He wasn't going to resort to such drastic measures, but it's not like he can use his usual line on her.

'Hey, I'm Austin,' he would say, cozying up to her.

'I know who you are,' she would reply. 'I've only been gone for a week.'

What's the best way to pick up your best friend? As in asking her on a date, because he's already picked her off the ground, letting her feet kick out as her hugs her hello.

"How was Heaven?"

The first pick up line has set sail.

She sinks his ship.

"I went to the Garden of Eden, remember? And it was amazing. I took pictures." She'd get her camera from her bag, but he has yet to put her down.

He tucks his head into her neck. Surprisingly, she smells like she's just gotten out of the shower.

That's impossible though.

She hasn't had one since she left Kansas this morning.

"We can look at the pictures later. Let's get you some lunch first. You must be starving." He inhales sharply, too sharp. It causes him to breath out, and the air slides down her neck, down the scooped neck of her tee shirt.

So much for being inconspicuous.

"Thank you for agreeing to pick us up," Mr. Dawson says as his daughter is set back on the ground.

"Not a problem."

He crosses his fingers that Ally calls shot gun.

She does.

An idea all too perfect he realizes as he sticks the keys in the ignition. Her hand is right there, on the arm rest. He could grab it. He could hold it, interweaving her fingers with his own, pretending like it's no big deal while he tries to contain his excitement.

Placing his hands in the correct position, because her father is in the backseat, and he really wants him to trust him, he checks the rear view mirror.

"Tacos or burgers?" he asks.

"Tacos. I have a coupon," her father answers.

He isn't sure what kind of person carries coupons with them on vacation, but he flips on his blinker to turn right.

Ally settles back into her seat. "How was your week?"

Lonely.

Quiet.

Boring.

"It was good," he says, because he'd hate to see her frown.

That smile is too pretty to pass up.

(the page breaks here)

They're at the launch party for their duet album that Friday.

"What does it feel like to be the most beautiful girl in this room?" He takes a sip of his punch. It's too sweet, and has that artificial fruit taste to it, but he does not want her to see his reaction to her response.

She's going to call him out on using a pick up line and say that he has no chance whatsoever, resulting in a frown. Either that, or she'll say that he's sweet, and he'll smile like an idiot. Though he doesn't want to choke on his punch if that's the case.

Better just let the cup sit here instead.

"Aww, you are too sweet." Standing on her toes, she kisses his cheek.

Good call on the punch cup.

"You two ready to perform?" Jimmy approaches them, checking the time.

Chugging the rest of his drink, Austin sets the cup on the table. "Let's do this."

He takes her hand. Why not, when they're going in the same direction anyway?

His arm hits the mic stand when he neglects to let her go.

Unfolding her fingers from his, she takes her microphone. He takes it as his cue.

At some point in the song he loses himself in her eyes. He refuses to let the words go with it.

Luckily he wins the battle.

This round.

(the page breaks here)

She's in line for a cup of coffee, which is a rarity for her. After that party last night, she needs it.

What respectable person asks his daughter to work the early shift when she went to bed at one in the morning?

"You dropped your name tag," Austin tells her, handing her a sugar packet.

"Thanks," she mumbles.

Probably not the best idea to use a line on her while she's half asleep.

She rips the packet open, dumping it in her cup.

The packaging falls in, and he dips his fingers in to retrieve it. "Eeek."

Such a manly noise.

Whose idea was it to make coffee hot?

"You alright?" She takes hold of his hand, inspecting his red fingers.

She could kiss them better.

Nope. Her lips would rather taste coffee than burnt fingertips.

"Mhm." He can stand the scorching pain. He's a man.

Now, Ally here, is a woman. If she burns her mouth on that coffee, she's going to need a kiss to make it better.

He volunteers for the job.

(the page breaks here)

He has run up these stairs too many times to count (though he probably could, if he wasn't spending all his spare time thinking about her) and today he falls.

Stumbling into the practice room, he grips his knee.

"Do you have a bandage?" His knee feels rough, and this time he thinks he's going to ask her to kiss it.

After all, his fingers are taking forever to heal.

Certainly a kiss or two could speed things up?

"What for?" she asks, looking up from her music sheet.

Because I fell for you, hard.

"My knee. I tripped on the stairs," he substitutes. Now is not the time for pick up lines. It's the time to fix scraped knees, because he ran too fast to the girl that he's too in love with.

To think, he was all ready with a line to use.

Odd, he can't remember it now. He's made way for this new memory, of her fingers pressing down on his knee, followed by her lips.

Hallelujah.

"That should do it." Crumpling the wrapper, she tosses it in the trash.

He should be able to get up and walk. It's only a scrape.

But after that kiss, she's left him with gelatin legs.

He'll wait here until the moment passes.

(the page breaks here)

This time it's a slip of the tongue.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" Her hands lift off the keys.

Whoa, things got quiet.

"What?"

"Is it hot in here," he repeats, voice shaking, "or is it just me?"

If it wasn't hot before, he's sure feeling it now. He doesn't need a mirror to tell him he's turning nine shades of red.

He'd list them, but he needs to dedicate this time to freaking out.

"It is awfully stuffy in here. How about I open a window?" It requires her to get off the bench. He takes advantage of the freedom, rubbing the bandage.

Her lips were there.

One second of his life, taking up more space than anything else. Years compacted, pushed aside to make room.

She startles him when she sits back down. His elbow hits the keys.

"That's better." Whether he's talking about her being at his side again or the window being open is up for interpretation.

Not that he'll ever tell.

(the page breaks here)

Dangling his legs off the counter, his stomach lets out a noise.

It sounds something like a dying whale.

"Do you have any raisins?" He eyes her bag of trail mix.

"Sorry, I ate them all." She digs around for a blue M&M, popping it in her mouth. The process repeats.

An idea comes to mind. "How about a date?"

He pleads with the greater being out there, the one that had her kiss his knee, that she understands. It's been two days since she returned home. How many pick up lines does a girl need to hear before she takes a hint?

Wink wink, nudge nudge.

Shove shove.

One more shove for good measure.

"All I have left is nuts and chocolate."

It's possible that all that shoving and winking would have worked better had it not been all in his head.

Begrudgingly, he took a cashew.

He is not going to tell her he's nuts for her.

These pick up lines are worthless.

(the page breaks here)

Finishing their break, they return to the practice room.

He takes the stairs slowly. He is not going to scrape his other knee.

She can still kiss it if she wants.

"What do you think?"

"I like you." An awkward pause. "Uh, I mean, I like the song."

Her head goes one way, but the tone of her voice betrays it. "Me too."

She caught him. She knows that he didn't mean the song, even if she fakes understanding.

Which one does her 'me too' refer to?

It's about time he finds out.

"That's not to say I don't like you," he backtracks.

"I know." She smiles.

She may know that he likes her, but he doubts she knows the extent of it.

He loves her to the Garden of Eden and back.

"Ally, I," he starts, losing the words. He's spent so much time memorizing pick up lines he's forgotten what he wanted to say.

"You?" she prods when the silence stretches.

He finds a good place to start. "I love you."

It's silent again, but not because he can't find the words. He has plenty. All his own, with not a pickup line to be found.

It's a good thing Ally can read lips.

He reads hers.

He likes the silent things they say.

Sounds like 'I love you too.'