𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙎

A Band, A Plan

The light was pale and gray when Dave blinked awake, the muffled sounds of a new movie playing quietly on the TV. He was warm—too warm—and it took a second to register why.

Iris was still lying on top of him, her cheek resting on his chest, legs tangled with his, a strand of hair tickling his jaw. Her breathing was soft and steady, matching the gentle thrum of rain outside.

Dave didn't move. He didn't want to. There was something strangely perfect about the way they'd drifted off like that, no words, no decisions—just comfort, just presence.

He tilted his head slightly to glance at the screen. Some old black-and-white film flickered across the screen now, different from the one they'd half-watched the night before. He couldn't tell if it was a detective movie or a romance. Maybe both.

"Morning, lovebirds."

Dave flinched slightly, as did Iris, both turning toward the voice that had suddenly filled the room.

Barrett stood in the archway, tousled and yawning, arms raised in a stretch. His grin was entirely too smug for this early in the day.

"You want breakfast or should I leave you two to reenact a Meg Ryan movie on my couch?"

Dave groaned, covering his face with one hand as Iris got up from her comfortable position, laughing.

"Sure," Dave called out, voice rough with sleep. "Let's do breakfast."

Barrett rubbed his stomach theatrically. "Good. I'm craving diner food and mild emotional tension."

Iris rolled off of Dave carefully and sat up, stretching her arms with a yawn. "Gimme ten. I'll change."

She padded out of the room, leaving Dave sitting upright and blinking away the sleep. Barrett flopped onto the recliner across from him, raising an eyebrow.

"So...?"

Dave gave him a tired look. "So what?"

Barrett smirked. "You're not gonna pretend there's nothing happening there, right?"

Dave ran a hand through his messy hair, sighing. "I don't know. We've been close for a while now, but... yeah. Lately it's been more."

Barrett nodded knowingly. "She's good for you."

"I know," Dave said quietly, glancing toward the hallway where she'd disappeared. "I don't want to mess it up."

Barrett leaned forward, his voice softer. "Then don't. But you're not imagining it. Anyone can see it—she wants to be close to you."

Before Dave could reply, Iris came back into the room in a fresh shirt and jeans, tying her damp hair up. "Alright, I'm good."

They grabbed jackets and headed out into the misty morning, walking down the street to a cozy little breakfast spot two blocks away. Over coffee and plates of eggs and toast, they laughed more than they talked about music—until Barrett brought it up.

"So," he said between bites of hash browns, "you two are really putting together a band now, huh?"

Dave nodded, mouth full. "Guess so."

"You should rehearse soon. People loved that tape, man. I've heard it passed around like candy. You thinking of playing a show?"

Dave sipped his coffee, thinking. "Eventually, yeah. I just got everyone on board. I haven't thought about venues yet."

"Well," Barrett said with a shrug, "you've got the band. And you've got songs. That's more than half the battle."

By the time they got back to Dave and Barrett's place, the clouds were starting to thin a little overhead. The three of them filed back into the living room, still full from breakfast and buzzing with caffeine.

Dave turned to Iris, stretching his arms behind his head. "You wanna call Nate and William? See when they're free to rehearse?"

Iris grinned. "You got it, boss."

She plopped down on the couch and pulled the phone into her lap, already dialing.

Dave watched her as she leaned into the call, excited and animated, already slipping into the rhythm of something bigger than the two of them—something real.

Foo Fighters were no longer just scribbles on a tape.

By the time they were back from breakfast, full of eggs and coffee and warm from the brisk walk, the mood had settled into that lazy, early-afternoon calm. Iris had wandered into Dave's room to grab a sweater she'd left behind, and Barrett took the opportunity to speak while she was out of earshot.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as Dave cracked open a soda and leaned on the fridge.

"So," Barrett started, casually but with a spark in his eyes, "you really sure about having Iris in the band?"

Dave looked at him, brow raised. "Uh, yeah...? why?"

Barrett tilted his head. "I mean, you two are clearly becoming... something. And now she's in your band. That's a lot of overlap. You sure that's not gonna get complicated?"

Dave rubbed the back of his neck, thinking it over for a beat. "Honestly? I don't really know."

Barrett didn't say anything. Just watched.

Dave shrugged. "What about, like, Paul and Linda McCartney. They were in Wings together and it worked. They made weird, cool, heartfelt stuff. They were having fun doing it."

Barrett gave a thoughtful nod. "That's not a bad comparison."

Dave took a sip from his drink. "Look, we've always been friends. The music thing feels natural with her, like we already get each other. And yeah, maybe there's something more happening now, but I don't want to box it in or be scared of it before it even begins."

"Fair enough," Barrett said, offering a small grin. "Just don't let it get messy. You've got something good here. With her and the band."

Dave nodded, his expression softening as his eyes drifted toward the hallway where Iris had disappeared. "Yeah. I know."

Right then, she came back out, her sweater hanging loose off one shoulder, a little bounce in her step. "Alright," she said, grabbing the phone off the hook. "Let's wrangle our band."

As she dialed Nate's number, Dave caught Barrett's eye across the room.

He didn't say anything—but the grin that tugged at the corner of Dave's mouth said everything.

---

A/N

little cute scene for you

feel free to comment and/or vote!