A/N: I'm not dead, yaaay. School and my ever-crashing relationship is taking the crap outta me. Thanks for all my lovely followers & reviewers for not giving up on me. (:

Prompt: "Because, in truth, he knew she was destined for bigger things. Things much greater than being Austin Moon's songwriter." When Ally gets accepted into the biggest music company in America, Austin is less than thrilled, even though it's right there in Miami. But things at Clef Records aren't always so happy, and a certain boss has his eye on Ally. Can Austin protect her?

Notes: This will be an angsty kinda story in later chapters. It will not, however, be total angst. And Austin & Ally are around 20 in this fic. Also, "Trouble Clef" is a stupid little pun I came up with. Because, Treble Clef, and Trouble, and yeah...just read the story now.

He's not surprised when Trish hands Ally the envelope from her new job at the post office. It's addressed from Clef Records, the biggest music company there is. He's definitely not surprised when they've offered her a full job as a music composer and a lyricist. Because, in truth, he knew she was destined for bigger things. Things much greater than being a songwriter for a pop star. Her eyes bulged out reading the letter, smiling largely. He smiled too, but it was more of a sad smile. She couldn't pass up another great opportunity - who knows how many of these will come around - and he was Austin Moon. They had been doing this for three years. He had four albums, an upcoming world tour scheduled, and millions of fans and employees at Starr Records. If he really needed to, he could hire a whole team of songwriters. Not that any of them would be half as good, but he could if he really wanted to.

"Are you gonna take it?" Trish asked.

"I don't think so," Ally said, putting the letter back in the envelope. "I already have a job."

Trish shook her head. "But Ally! This is the biggest company in the country! This is a HUGE deal! Think of all the celebrities you'll get to meet! Maybe even Selena Gomez!"

Austin snickered. Ally despised Selena Gomez, and he knew it, too. It was funny how Trish was not only wanting her to go, but encouraging her. Maybe she didn't realize this meant Ally would be leaving Team Austin. Or maybe, she just wasn't as self-concerned as Austin.

"I know, but I have everything I could ever want in Team Austin. I mean, Austin just hit #1 on the Billboard Charts! We're triple platinum!" she said.

Trish shook her head. "I know, and we're so proud of you and Austin, but this is a big opportunity! You can't keep giving up your chances for us!"

Austin winced at the sound of his name. It's not like he had asked her to give up her opportunities. MUNY, Fearless Records, Harper's Branch. She had done it with no second thought, but this was different. Clef Records was a huge deal, and he could see the hesitation in her eyes from the start when she put it down. She did want to go, she just couldn't will herself to do it.

"You guys seriously wouldn't care?" she asked, glancing more towards Austin than Dez or Trish.

"Of course we'd care," Austin cut in, propping himself against the wall, "but we're not asking you to give this up. This is, as Trish said, an amazing chance, and we'll miss you, but if you wanna go, you should go."

"Oh, thank you thank you thank you!" she said, jumping into Austin's arms for a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, but she pulled away quickly before giving the same hug to Dez and Trish. It was far too short for his taste.

"Thanks, you guys. I promise, this won't change anything," she said, before pulling out her cell phone to call the head manager.

Austin bit his lip. It wasn't going to change anything, it was going to change everything.

Her first day of work she was sat in the board room among eight other songwriters and composers. Ally felt slightly nervous, and she almost grabbed for her hair. Almost. This is a professional place, she told herself. No hair-chewing allowed.

A particularly sturdy man walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. He looked to be around thirty years old, and every detail about him looked like business. He was practically born for this job.

"Good morning," he said, setting his briefcase under the table by his chair. A follow-up greeting was chorused by the surrounding members in the board room, causing Ally to flush at her sudden silence. The man chuckled.

"This is our newest composer. Ally, would you please stand?" he said, voice booming and so authoritative. It almost intimidated her. She rose from her chair, awkwardly walking over to the man. She gave a nervous laugh before looking at the people staring at her. They gave a slight applause, using tired smiles and cupped, poised hands.

"Mr. Smith," he said, extending a hand.

She diligently shook his hand, and he ignored the grip she had. "Miss Dawson is a new addition to our team, but I assure you she is one of the best in the business."

A large smile crossed her face, and she exhaled in relief. Mr. Smith took a seat and she took that as her cue to sit, pulling the swivel chair out from under the long desk.

"Now, onto the matter at hands," Mr. Smith said, and Ally pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She could get used to this. It was incredibly lush, the people seemed nice, and the pay was well beyond excellent. Still, her thoughts kept drifting to a certain blonde-haired singer.

"And your proposal on this, Miss Dawson?" Mr. Smith questioned, and Ally shook her head. She must've zoned out. Glancing at the board, she found the topic and quickly stammered something out.

"If you market out too many albums at one time, it will be random and people will be less likely to buy. If you use a pattern, let's say, one every two years, people not only know when the album will come out, and can save up to buy the album, increasing profit sales," she said, not even taking a breath. She was talking so fast she was sure it was inaudible, but Mr. Smith gave an amused grin.

"Very impressive, Miss Dawson. I'm surprised you're here for composition and not profit," Mr. Smith boomed, checking his watch.

To be honest, she had no idea where that speech had come from. It just bounced from the back of her head, and before she could stop herself, she was saying it.

"You're all dismissed. The next meeting is Thursday. Have a lovely evening," Mr. Smith said rather quickly, shutting the door. Ally threw her bag over her shoulder and set to head out, before attempting to head out. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around.

It was a rather short girl, probably around Ally's age.

"Hey, you're Ally, right? I'm Jo, the other head songwriter here," she said, re-adjusting her own bag.

"Yeah, nice to meet you. I love your glasses, where'd you get them?" Ally asked. She had on glasses, fake of course, with purple rims and a little bow on the edge of the left lens.

"Thanks, at Claire's Counter. Hey, do you wanna maybe grab lunch sometimes?" she said, rather shy.

Ally smiled. "Sure."

Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad without Austin after all.