Idle Thoughts

Summary: "Ally," he murmured into her ear, "do you like to dream?" The corners of his eyes crinkled as he subconsciously let his arms drape around her. / In which Austin tries to engage in deep philosophical conversation with Ally, just to hear her voice. AustinAlly. Drabble. Happy holidays!

A/N: Thank you for your lovely feedback and reviews! In order to infuse even more holiday spirit into this wonderful, supportive community, I've decided to compose this short holiday-tinged drabble about my favorite angst-free ship. Enjoy!

As always, thanks to Sarah for her comprehensive late-night editorial messages (I'll be expecting an especially exhaustive series of messages about this one…haha).

Finally, to LoveShipper: if you're reading this, I'll post that other oneshot in January. This is just something else that came to mind. Thanks for your support!

Business had slowed to a lazy stream of customers looking for small musical trinkets to top off gifts for friends and family. It was Christmas Eve after all, and the holiday extravaganza had waned down for the most part.

It was noon when she realized that he was perched on the countertop behind her, dangling his legs thoughtfully. With a resigned sigh, she heaved herself up next to him and began to hum a tune under her breath.

"Slow day, huh?"

She glanced fleetingly at him before nodding tiredly, continuing her rendition of an indecipherable melody. He swayed his heels nonchalantly.

"Hey, Ally?" It came out a bit too sweetly – in fact, he thought, sickeningly so – but he just wanted to hear her voice again. This might be borderline addiction, he grumbled to himself.

There was nobody else in the store (well, except Nelson, who was attempting to learn a piano solo – but he wasn't a customer and thus did not demand Ally's attention), and yet she was still not listening to him.

"Ally—"

"Yes?"

"Oh, uh…" Smooth, he rebuked himself, but he continued. "Um, do you believe in soulmates?"

And of all the things he could have asked, he just had to pick that.

Thankfully, though, she had nothing better to do. He watched in fidgety anticipation as she pondered his question, noting the barely-noticeable crease between her eyebrows. When she finally gave a response, he jolted in surprise.

"I can't think today. I'm way too tired."

Never before had he heard such harmonies. As creepy as it sounded, he had to keep her talking.

She must have been beyond tired, though, because her head quickly found a place in the crook of his neck. I bet she snores in musical phrases, he speculated, before shaking his head at his own ridiculousness.

"Ally," he murmured into her ear, "do you like to dream?" The corners of his eyes crinkled as he subconsciously let his arms drape around her. She didn't bother to adjust her position.

"Yes, Austin – and I like to sleep, too." Ouch.

"Sorry, Ally." But he didn't move.

A few moments of peaceful silence passed, until –

"Guess who got a job at Jazzy Jewelers? I'm only an hour into my break—"

"Shut up, Trish," Ally said exasperatedly. "I'm trying to sleep."

Trish smirked when she noticed Austin's foolish grin, but she didn't say anything.

:::

"Oh, come on, Ally, don't you see the way he looks at you?"

"How does he look at me?"

"He looks at you like you're the only girl for miles. His eyes are basically glued to you! For heaven's sake, Ally, he looks at you like—"

"I look at her like she means the world to me," he said softly from the doorway.

"I'll – I'll just leave you two alone," Trish giggled.

"Austin—"

He didn't give her time to voice her reaction. "Mistletoe," he whispered.

She noticed Trish standing sheepishly in the doorway, holding out a sprig of the infamous plant.

:::

A minute later, Trish muttered something about arm cramps before making her way out of the room.

Austin and Ally didn't need the mistletoe anyway.

I'm not sure I'm satisfied with the end product, but it's something to commemorate the holidays. Review – tell me what you think! Thank you and best wishes for a very merry Christmas and a rejuvenating New Year.