Inkling, an Austin and Ally one shot

I do not own Austin and Ally. Was asked to do something more Ally's POV, so here it is. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

(September)

There's something about the first day of school, where everything smells like floor cleaner and an overabundance of perfumes, that excites her. The way everyone struts around in their new clothes, waving hello, because she is finally somebody.

Somebody who slips on the floor, because there is no caution sign around.

Somebody falling into Austin's arms.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, balancing her on her feet.

"Yeah. I just slipped on the floor. It's still a little wet." She blushes. His arm hasn't left her waist.

He nods. "Good to know."

Away slips his arm.

Adjusting her stack of notebooks in her arms, she catches sight of the picture hanging in his locker. That's her face.

She doesn't remember him taking that picture.

When did he take that picture?

He slams the locker shut before she can say anything. "What's your first class?"

"Public speaking," she moans. Stage fright may be in her past, but she'd rather be in a lit class, reading the classics.

"Me too," he says happily. The grin on his face must be contagious, because she follows suit.

At least she'll have a friend in the class.

Someday she'll find that 'friend' can be a very loose term.

(October)

She fixes the bow in her hair, knocking on his door.

"Are you sure you got the right Alice in Wonderland costume? That one's a bit...low cut." Trish gestures with her scepter.

Of course the Queen of Hearts costume wasn't in stock at the store. She had to order it online.

They better win 'best group costume' and make this worth it.

Dez opens the door, dressed as the Mad Hatter. "Austin will be down in a minute. He's having issues getting his bunny costume on."

"It's a hare!" he yells from the top of the steps. He hurries down the stairs. "Can somebody zip me up?"

Ally, being the only one with her hands free, helps him out.

"Ready to go?" She hoists her knee highs higher, hoping they'll cover more of her legs. Stupid short skirt.

He swallows. "Maybe you should wear a sweater tonight. It is kind of chilly out."

"What are you talking about? It's seven-"

Dez gets elbowed in the stomach. His tea cup falls to the ground. Luckily it's only plastic.

She lets her hair fall forward in an attempt to cover her chest.

"If we don't get going, we're going to be late." It feels like it should be his line, as he is the one with the pocket watch, but it suits her all too well. Maybe she should have been the hare, and she wouldn't be in this predicament.

He loops that watch around her neck, letting it cover where her shirt is lacking.

Maybe her mistaken order isn't all bad.

(November)

Standing on her toes, she reaches into the freezer case. There aren't that many turkeys left.

"I can't reach," she grunts, falling forward.

"Whoa." Quick on his feet, he swoops in, and pulls her out. He grabs a turkey with ease.

Why couldn't he have done that before she almost fell into the freezer? Did he enjoy watching her dangle from the edge, her backside perked in the air?

For the sake of her own sanity, she doesn't think about it.

Not too hard that is.

Okay, now it's really bugging her. There is no logical explanation as to why he made her get the turkey instead of getting it himself. Or if there is, she isn't privy to it.

He nudges her.

"Wasn't there a box of stuffing in our cart?" she notices, tugging her shirt down. All that wiggling caused it to roll up.

He tosses the bird in, causing a great clattering noise. "Man, someone stole our stuffing!"

You leave a cart unattended for two minutes on the eve of Thanksgiving, and this is what happens. Her dad is not going to be happy about this. It was her idea to have the Moon family over for dinner, so it wouldn't be just the two of them, and now they can't make stuffing.

This is all her fault.

"Sorry. If I hadn't fallen in the freezer it wouldn't have happened."

"Ally," he says. Hugs work better than words ever could, so he wraps his arms around her body.

His hands are freezing.

She thinks she can live with that.

(December)

Dez blows the dust off the box of Christmas decorations.

"How long has it been since you decorated your house?" Ally undoes the flaps of the box.

He untangles a string of lights. They unravel onto the attic floor, and she questions why he didn't do this once they were back downstairs.

She holds her arms out, letting him recoil them. "Years. Normally I just spend the holidays with Austin."

Hearing his name, he looks up the steps. She sees him wave, and tries to return the gesture.

It's a failure. The lights begin to slip, and she has to do some maneuvering to keep them straight.

"Need any help up there?"

"We're good," Dez responds.

He can speak for himself. He's not the one entangled in a string of lights, watching as he closes the box and sets it near the door.

"Actually," she starts. He perks up at the sound of her voice. "How do I get down like this?"

When he comes up, moving the lights to lay across her body, accidentally brushing his hand across her, she swears she's shivering. There must be a draft up there. Did someone open a window?

As long as none of these boxes contain a mistletoe, she thinks that she can get through the rest of the day.

There is no way she's kissing Dez.

She's not so sure about Austin.

(January)

Coming back from winter break, she sits on the bench in her new sweater.

"You have to admit, he was right. You do look good in red." Trish takes a seat next to her. Her candy cane goes back in her mouth.

"I know. And it's soft too." She lets her rub her hand along the sleeve.

"Why is Trish petting Ally?" Dez asks as he approaches with Austin.

She rolls her eyes, tugging her arm away. Digging around in her backpack, she takes out a thank you card.

"I know it's a bit late," she apologizes. She's had it for the past week, but something always comes up. Time seems to fall away when she's around him.

"You didn't have to do that." He tucks it away in his bag, not bothering to open it. When he does, he'll find a new picture of her. One where he's in it, and they look way too merry to be drinking unspiked egg nog.

She may have an inkling as to why she was smiling.

Maybe possibly, but not for definite she's developing the tiniest of crushes on him.

It's not not a possibility.

(February)

With Valentine's Day passed, and not a single card addressed to her, she feels the crush waning. Clearly he doesn't like her like that. It was all in her head.

One thing that isn't in her head is how that new picture is hanging below that one from September.

It was meant to replace it. She doesn't need a constant reminder of how she looks with bedhead. And not showing up to his locker is not an option.

That waning crush?

Not even.

"You ready for your speech?" He takes his seat behind her. His feet kick the back of her heels, per usual, because these desks are too small to contain him.

Immediately they scrunch back into place. It's the same story every day.

Turning sideways, she takes out her papers. "Typed and ready to go."

He plucks the speech from her hands, holding it above his head.

"How about now?" he teases.

"Austin!" Her eyes widen in shock. "I need those."

His grin disagrees with her. Why is it that he has more faith in her than she does?

The announcements come on, and he hands her back her notes.

"You're going to do great."

If he can predict the future, what does he see for the two of them?

As it stands now, she hasn't a clue.

It's delightfully terrifying.

(March)

Setting her book bag in his back seat, she gets in next to him. As he drives, he takes her hand.

"I'd feel a lot safer if you had both hands on the wheel," she requests.

"But I want to hold your hand," he counteracts.

Her hand slips out of his grip. She pointedly stares at the wheel. He obeys.

She wants to hold his hand too, but she'd rather not die yet. There's still so much life to live.

"You survived this long without holding my hand. I'm sure you can manage." They've been together for a whole three hours, because he finally broke in gym, when they were playing co-ed volley ball and she got hit in the head. He had rushed to her side, panicking.

'Get back to your side of the court,' her teammates had told him. As if that was going to happen. He was going to take her to the nurse, and stay by her side.

'I'll be fine,' she had told him.

With him by her side, itching to hold her hand, she follows through on her words.

She's going to be fine, along with another string of words that she could mention, if she wasn't busy guiding his hand back to the steering wheel again.

They come to a stop sign and she kisses his cheek. Might as well pleasure him, if only for a moment.

It's not like there's a limit.

A lifetime of moments to go. A lifetime of pictures, hopefully one to replace that awful one from September, which she thinks she's finally going to ask him about.

But first, there's some things they need to take care of. She's waited long enough.

Like she said, she has the rest of her life to ask him. One step at a time. Starting with the one where they get out of his car, and he takes her by the hips in his driveway, because he can.

He likes that he can say that now.

She does too.