give a little get a little (a hosie music au)

Part 1 "Can I get some more guitar?"

A/n: haha please pretend I didn't start this before finishing my other fic :)))
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"Can I get some more guitar?"

"Sure." Hope removed her finger from the talk button and slides the faders to her right up slightly. "That good?" She asked back, her hand still hovering over the soundboard. The artist on the other side of the glass pays attention to whatever is coming out of the headphones he's wearing, before shooting a wink paired with a thumbs up. Hope smiles back politely, resetting the track as she leans back in her chair.

It had been a long day, morphing into a long night for the auburn haired girl. This recording session a last minute addition to her already packed schedule. But when someone higher up asks you for a favour what are you gonna do, say no?

"You should've said no." The curly haired boy to her right exclaimed, seemingly reading her thoughts. But anyone in their right mind paying enough attention would notice the dark circles under Hope's eyes, and how they would start to droop if you didn't talk to her for a couple of minutes.

"You should've said no." She fired back at him with a tired smile, flinching slightly when the levels spiked after the current singer tried to hit the high note on the bridge again. At least this time they noticed and stopped singing.

"You're doing great, you almost had it." Hope encouraged, mustering the last few drops of energy she had to sound enthusiastic. "One more time."

The singer nodded, his excuse falling on deaf ears as she reset the track again, turning back to Landon as he spoke.

"I take what I can when I can. It's not often someone's asking to work with the 'one hit wonder'." He said, air quotes and all. "I can't be too picky."

"I wish the label would be pickier." Hope's tone didn't match her face, it was a mask of cool, calm and collected as she watched the guy in the booth try and hit that note again.

"This is one of the exec's nephews." Landon huffed, doing a poor job at masking his annoyance. "And not one of the good ones."

Hope kicks him in the shin, sending him a barely concealed glare. "What have I said about bad-mouthing clients? It's not professional."

"He's not a prof—"

"Good job, Mac!" Hope interrupted both men before they could continue. "How about we wrap this up for tonight, and you come in again later?"

Trying to hide his relief with an arrogant confidence that Hope struggles to hold back an eye roll to, he nods, removing the headphones from around his neck and placing them over the music stand. "No worries, my auras feeling a little off anyway."

Hope just smiled in response, shaking the hand extended to her when he comes out of the booth. At least he was mildly polite.

"Thanks for the sesh', really appreciate it." He said, shaking her hand for a little too long, only stopping when Landon got up and stuck out his hand very obviously and shook it.

"Hey, no problem man. Take it easy." Landon replied, patting the guy on the back as he made his way through the door. When the studio was finally silent Hope let out the loudest sigh.

"You're gonna have to carry me," She said to Landon, snorting at how ludicrous what she was saying truly was. "I don't think I can get up."

"Why not stay here? Wouldn't be the first time I've seen you catching some Z's in a studio." His words were playful, followed by a slight chuckle. Memories flashed before Hope's eyes, causing a wide grin to split her face.

"I always regret it in the morning." Is her response as she stretched her hands out to the boy, who took them and pulled her up.

"How's your back?" He asked, and as if he had spoken it into existence, her back made its stiffness known, causing Hope to let out a groan.

"On a scale of one to five? A three. But I'm fine."

The boy sighed at her words, tired of hearing something along the lines of this for the thousandth time. The auburn haired girl was never one to let any amount of "weakness" slow her down, even if it wasn't the healthiest. Tack that onto the pile of "reasons why Hope Mikaelson goes to therapy". It's a big enough pile that it needs a whole ass name.

"Go home, I'll shut everything down here." He said kindly, already moving towards the board to turn everything off.

"You're so sweet to me." Hope said half mockingly, gratitude still finding a way to slip through her tone. She was too tired to hide it.

"That didn't stop you from leaving me."

"Goodnight Landon!" She yelled over her shoulder as the boy busted out into laughter, loud enough that she could still hear it even after she closed the door.

The two had briefly dated a couple years ago, but it wasn't very serious. They were very off and on again, being better at playing supportive roles in each others lives. So they stayed friends, if not for the fact that they could laugh together, for the sake of their own jobs respectively. Hope and Landon both worked at Legacy Records. He was a producer, and she had worked her way up to A&R (Artists & Repertoire). But Hope Mikaelson considered herself a generalist, floating back and forth from different areas of music that she loved before she had settled on one in particular. It had helped that she grew up on tour with her dad, back before they had a few of the technologies they do now. Hope was at heart, an analog old school kinda gal.

That's why she drove a 1968 black Shelby Mustang GT500 and listened to records and cassettes. She wasn't trying to keep up with the new trends that made these things popular again, she just had a hard time getting rid of her Dad's old stuff. Was Hope Andrea Mikaelson a hoarder? If you asked her she would say no, confused as to why you would think that. If you asked Landon or her therapist, they would have a different answer. It's like the piles of stuff around her apartment were invisible to her.

She threw her keys into the bowl beside the door, wincing slightly as she pulled off her jacket. Normally she would take a bath, but she feared she might fall asleep and drown. She would just have to book a massage in the morning.

Before she could succumb to the sweet, sweet lullaby of sleep that was calling her name, she had a few last minute things to do. She liked to check social media for any "rising stars", particularly Youtube, as people often posted covers there showcasing their talent. Hope had already clicked through a couple videos, no one really catching her eye. Sure, they had skill, and maybe they had the X-factor, but they didn't have that it factor. They weren't an artist ready to be molded into cash money fame, someone the label could work with. Someone who would spread like wild fire through everyone's Spotify playlists until they became "too mainstream", but you still listened to everything they came out with.

She was about to give up hope when a cover of her Dad's favourite song popped up in the suggestions tab, and she clicked it mindlessly, having a soft spot for it already. The smile on her face grew lazily as she saw the singer, a brunette wearing pajamas, turn the camera on at the start of the video. She had a ukulele in her hands, causing the auburn haired girl to frown. Her frown deepened when she started playing a more striped down version of "Whatcha Gonna Do", with a slower tempo and more soulful approach to singing the lyrics. Hope should've hated it, since it wasn't being displayed in that fun way the original was regardless of the lyrics... but Hope didn't hate it. In fact, she loved it. After the song ended she played it again, and it slowly morphed into a separate entity to Chilliwack's version in her mind. It was its own piece that was only vaguely connected with the emotions Hope tied to it, and yet she loved it still. She checked out a few of the other covers this girl had posted, coming to the same conclusion after listening to each one.

Who was this girl, sitting on her bed singing to a camera? Hope had to find out, but not tonight. She sent the links on to her team with a little note saying "get me her." and went to sleep.

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A/n: this fic will not have a schedule nor can I promise speedy updates :(