Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sunlight streamed through the skylight above the Sonic Boom studio, painting golden streaks across the polished hardwood floor. A soft breeze flowed through the open window, stirring the thin curtains and carrying in the distant sound of seagulls and beach waves. The scent of Ally’s lavender tea wafted through the room, mingling with the ever-present faint smell of guitar polish and music sheets.

Ally sat cross-legged on the overstuffed red couch, a soft plaid blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. Her songwriting notebook was perched on her knees, her pencil tapping rhythmically against the page. She wore her favorite oversized sweater—cream-colored with small, frayed cuffs—and her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, a few strands falling into her face.

She was deep in thought, mouthing lyrics under her breath and squinting at the page.

“Okay,” she muttered, “maybe something like… ‘You're the melody I didn’t know I needed… the harmony I couldn’t find...’ Hmm.” She crossed out the last line with a dramatic sigh. “Why is the second verse always harder?”

She didn’t notice the door creak open behind her—or the quiet footsteps sneaking in.

Then—smooch!

A sudden kiss landed on her cheek, soft and unmistakably familiar.

Ally gasped, nearly dropping her notebook. “AUSTIN!”

Standing beside her with his usual mischievous grin and artfully tousled blond hair, Austin Moon leaned back and looked very pleased with himself.

“Yup,” he said dreamily, “definitely vanilla mint. I knew it.”

Ally blinked at him in disbelief, one hand on her cheek. “Are you seriously rating my lip balm again?”

He flopped dramatically onto the couch beside her, stretching like a lazy cat. “I’m not rating it, Ally. I’m celebrating it. You don’t understand the power of that stuff. It’s like dessert and magic and love all rolled into one little tube.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve kissed me, like, ten times today. Is that because you’re being romantic or because I’m essentially wearing frosting?”

Austin tapped his chin. “Why not both?”

Ally groaned, trying her best not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re kissable.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It should be.”

She shoved him gently, though her cheeks had already turned a soft shade of pink. “Some of us are trying to write the next big love song here. Not spend the afternoon being pestered by a lip balm addict.”

“Songwriting needs inspiration,” he said, scooting closer. “And I happen to be a certified muse. I should get credit on this track, honestly.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Inspired by vanilla mint kisses and one very distracting pop star.’”

“I love it. Add that to the liner notes.”

Before she could roll her eyes again, Austin leaned in—not quickly this time, but slowly, teasingly—and kissed the corner of her mouth. Ally’s breath caught, just for a second, before she pulled back with mock sternness.

“That’s it. I’m banning you from the couch,” she declared, holding her notebook in front of her face like a shield. “This is now a no-kiss zone.”

“Wait, what?” Austin dramatically clutched his chest. “Ally Dawson, did you just ban my affections?”

She smirked. “Until the second verse is finished—yes. No smooching, no cuddling, and definitely no lip balm theft.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to use other methods to distract you,” he said, picking up her guitar and strumming a purposely off-key chord.

Ally winced. “Austin, no—”

“Ooooh Ally’s in a kissy mood, but she’s tryna write a song…” he sang in a goofy falsetto.
“She thinks I’ll stop distracting her, but she’s totally wrong—”

She threw a cushion at his head. “I regret ever dating you.”

“No, you don’t,” he grinned, catching the pillow mid-air. “Because I’m cute, and I bring you snacks.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small paper bag. Ally blinked. “Are those... the cinnamon muffins from Beachside Café?”

Austin nodded proudly. “Your favorite. Bought the last two. I figured if I was gonna annoy you, I might as well do it with baked goods.”

Ally tried to look unimpressed, but her stomach betrayed her with a small rumble. “Okay, fine. You can stay. But—” she held up a finger, “no more surprise kisses. I mean it.”

Austin leaned back, unwrapping a muffin and handing it to her. “No more surprise kisses. Got it.”

Ally took a bite, melting slightly. “Okay, this is incredible…”

“…And totally kiss-worthy,” Austin finished, leaning toward her again.

She swatted at him with her notebook, laughing. “Don’t make me write a diss track.”

“I’d still buy it,” he shrugged, grinning like a complete goofball. “As long as the album cover has you wearing that lip balm.”

Ally gave him a long look—half amused, half exasperated—and slowly shook her head. “You’re the most ridiculous muse I’ve ever had.”

“And yet, somehow, your favorite,” he whispered.

She didn’t argue.

Instead, she reached for her pencil again, resting the muffin on a napkin beside her. The second verse was still waiting—but so was this warm, perfect moment.

You kissed me sweet, a minty crime,
I tried to fight, but lost to time.
Your laugh, your grin, those tangled tunes—
Now all I write are thoughts of you.