SWEET LOVE -- Dan Avidan x Reader One Shots

Buy A House, Maybe?

Prompt: "You're a brass player why do you live in an apartment?"

Roles:
Player: Reader
The poor soul that has to live with it: Danny

Explanation:
Reader plays trumpet (I'm the top of my class with trumpet so trust me, it's better if you were a trumpet player) and just so happens to live in an apartment building. You don't realize that people can actually hear you, but no one in the building doesn't  like your playing... But someone did get curious.

Notes
-Any songs that I mention should definitely be listened to, they sound amazing.
-The brass quartet of Near My God To Thee fucks me up, I played it in a quartet and shit dude... wow
-Panic! At The Disco loves and appreciates trumpets so much bless
-try to catch my sIsTeR joke
-(n/name) = nickname (short form of your name, mine is Maggy, so I get called Mags)
___________________________________________

Another day of playing. 

For who?

For me.

I glanced at the clock before deciding that now was the time.  I always waited for a bit after noon until I played, because I didn't want to wake anyone up.
Throughout the week, I've been working to do a cover of the song High Hopes by Panic! At The Disco.  I've made it through the vocals, drums, strings, and so on back at the studio, but because I couldn't make it there today, I was just gunna practice at home.

I grabed my case from the shelf and opened it up, smiling at the sight.  I pulled the blue brass instrument from it's case, along with the mouthpiece. I gave her a once-over and emptied the spit valves onto the floor.
I'd clean it later.
I stood fully, turning the mouthpiece into place and slipping my ring finger through the loop, gripping the instrument with happiness. My right fingertips found their place upon the marble valve buttons, fitting perfectly inside the grooves.

Putting the mouthpiece against my lips, I quickly went up the scale, starting quiet but getting louder for a high finish.  Inhaling with a joyous smile, I fell back into the rhythm of playing. 
I began to warm up with a Church tone, playing Nearer My God To Thee with grace and sweetness.  This tone and song sounded so beautiful when I played in my old quartet. I was trumpet two, my good friend was trumpet one.  There was James and Charles, the baritone and trombone.  Trumpet one played low, but got the first verses, while trumpet two, me, played high, picking up at the build ups. 
When I finished up that song, I used the last note to fly into another song.
My solo piece from I Got You (I Feel Good), where I have to blast high notes fairly loudly so that from all corners of the crowd can hear me clearly. Of course, I wasn't as loud this time, because there wasn't a crowd, and I wasn't on the stage.  and this wasn’t marching band either, so no one from across a football field has to hear me.
Then I switched again, knowing I should probably start with High Hopes soon, I went for another P!ATD song.
Say Amen (Saturday Night) always sent shivers down my spine when the chorus came along, because there's just that sudden high and loud string of notes.  And after a bit of that, I moved the instrument off my lips, breathing heavily.
The taste of brass on my tongue lingered, and I was okay with that.
Then after a minute, I brought it back up to my lips for High Hopes.

Had to have high, high hopes for a livin'
Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killin'
Didn't have the time but I always had a vision,
Always had high, high hopes

Had to have high, high hopes for a livin'
Didnt know how, but I always had a feelin'
I was gunna be that one in a million
Always had high, high hopes

I could hear every little piece of the song in my head, every drum, every bow against strings, every brass, every word.

At this point I got to follow the lyrics and their notes, which was one of my favourite points, before I had to play a soft melody in the background.

Then I had to pull the trumpet from my lips to sing the build up chorus, where there's nothing but voices chanting it.

"Had to have high, high hopes for a livin', shooting for the star when I couldn't make a killin'. Didn't have the time but I always had a vision, always had high, high hopes."

I tapped my foot to the beat, "Had to have high, high hopes for a livin', didn't know how but I always had a feelin'. I was gunna be that one in a million, always to have high, high hopes."

Then the mouthpiece met my lips again, and I couldn't help but move to the sound of myself and all the other non existent instruments in my head. To me, I felt like I was high off the sound, I couldn't stand still, the bell of my trumpet went up and down to the beat, I couldn't control it..
And finally the song ended.
I pulled away, breathing heavy and smiling widely.  I let my body and mind calm down a bit, setting my trumpet on the couch and taking a breather.

as my heart beat went back to normal, it nearly jumped out of my chest as a buzz rang through the apartment.
Someone was at the door.
I panicked, hoping that whoever was there wasn't about to call and complain about noise.
Slowly, I made my way to the door and opened it.
There was a male on the other side. He was tall, wore a pair of tennis shoes, ripped blue jeans, a graphic tee, and a leather jacket.  He had light stubble dotted across rather sharp jawline.  His eyes, filled with curiosity and surprise, were chocolaty, his right eyebrow had a notch, and his hair was absolutely wild.

I inhaled sharply, realizing I had just given him a once-over, but the guilt in my gut felt a bit better when I saw his eyes quickly fly across my person, meaning he did the same thing as I did.  When his eyes were back on mine, he beamed a brilliant smile.

Did Jesus himself decide to visit me?

"Uh.. Hi, may I help you?" I asked, happy to see he wasn't mad.

He let out a... Giggle?
"Well, I'm from down the hallway and I couldn't help but hear you jamming out," he gestured with rock n' roll fingers, "So I thought I better come see the source of such talent."

well that certainty wasn't what I had expected.
I felt my face get a little warm from the compliment, "Come on in.." I muttered, stepping to the side and letting him come in. 
He smiled even wider, stepping in, "My name is Danny."
I closed the door, "(name). Don't worry about your shoes."

I made my way into the living room, knowing he'd follow me.  I grabbed my trumpet and took a seat where it had been resting before., watching now as Dan came and sat on the other end of the couch, knees slightly turned toward me, even as he leaning back and made himself comfortable. 

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you in any possible way, Danny." I apologized, feeling quote guilty.

He shook his head, a quick frown replacing his smile, "Don't be sorry, I'm a musician too, so I can appreciate the kick ass sound of a horn.  You play really well, (n/name)."  his smile returned, bright, unlike the shades of his eyes, clothes, and hair.

It was contagious, and being complimented always had me red, "Thanks... I've been playing for a long time.  What do you play?"

He brought his foot up to rest on his thigh, "Well, I can play guitar, but I'm more of a vocalist.  I wish I was talented enough to play instruments." he chuckled.

I looked down to the brass in my lap, holding it up so his attention would go to it, "This is Blue. Her and I go way back," I laughed.  He shared the laugh.
"She's a real beauty." he claimed, reaching out to feel the cold metal.

"You can totally try it if you want." I said, gesturing for him to take the trumpet.  His eyes flashed from the instrument to my eyes.
"Really?"
"yeah, i can wash the mouthpiece if that will make you feel better." I said, reaching and pulling the metal bit out and standing.
I wiggled the trumpet before he finally took hold of it.

"I'll teach you how to hold it." I said, jogging to the kitchen and grabbing my bottle of sterilizer from the windowsill.  I sprayed the mouthpiece and let it sit before rinsing it.  Making my way back, I was him fumbling to put his giant hands in the right spots.  I laughed and sat down beside him, a lot closer this time so that I could help.

"Your hands are smaller than mine, help." he whined.
I shook my head and took the trumpet, adjusting the ring and giving it back to him.  I showed him how to hold it, and he followed instructions.
I put the mouth piece back into it's place.

"So, sit up straight so that nothing disturbs the air flow," I said, he followed, "and what you have to do is make a buzz with you lips." I pressed my lips together, blowing out and letting them vibrate tightly.
It was weird to feel him staring right at my lips, so when I stopped, he looked into my eyes again, a smile stretching on his face again. 
I blushed, "You try it."

He did, doing exactly as I did.  He pressed his lips together and blew out, but started to laugh.
"This is weird," he said, "I feel stupid."
I rolled my eyes, smiling, "I did it, and that's how you play. I'm not judging you."

He scratched his scalp and grabbed the trumpet again, which rested in position on his thigh.  He tried again, buzzing his lips. I watched to make sure he was doing everything right, and then I started to feel weird for staring at his lips.

The tension broke when he laughed again, making my eyes snap back to his.

"Okay, so I just do that into the mouthpiece?" he asked.  I nodded.  He pressed his lips to the mouthpiece and buzzed into it, jumping back at the bubbly sound that came from the bell.

"Oh, ew." he said.  I raised my brow, "What?"
He turned to me, "You sounded so much better, I'm embarrassed to call myself a musician." he admitted, chuckling.
I waved him off, "You're a vocalist aren't you? I can't sing very well."

He scoffed, "That last song had a part where you sang rather than played, I call bullshit."
I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What's your full name?" I asked him.
He didn't ask why I wanted to know, but he sure as hell was confused.
"Dan Avidan?" I repeated, quickly grabbing my phone and looking it up before he could protest.

I paused before reading the results, "Actually, are you okay with this?"
I didn't want to just invade on him or whatever, it would be weird.

"Only if I can look you up, too." he smiled.

I rolled my eyes and looked down to read it.

"Musician, internet personality, singer-songwriter, and actor?" I did a little more clicking, "Your fucking net worth is three million!" I looked over to the man sitting on my couch. He was literally famous.
What the fuck.

He scratched the back of his neck and set the trumpet down beside him, pulling out his phone and typing.
He paused and locked eyes with me.
"(l/name)." I said.
He looked back down and typed again.

His eyes scanned the screen, widening ever so slightly.

"(name), one of the image results is you, someone else, and Lady GaGa.  And... You in an orchestra, and preforming on stage with bands and shit." he tapped the screen, "and... youtube videos.."
Suddenly I hear three slow notes with a beat and I realized he was playing my brass cover of Jason Derulo's 'Wiggle'.  In my covers, I play all the instruments, I do it all myself, like a one man band.
we sat there, listening to it.  My love of music got the better of me and I ended up dancing, singing 'wiggle, wiggle, wiggle' when needed.  at this, Dan giggled, joining me in the words.  We laughed, and when it ended, I clicked one of his songs.

"Danny Don't You Know? That's one of my best." He said.

I stared at the screen, "Is that Finn Wolfhard?"
He nodded, "We're friends."

I watched through the whole thing because I found it hard to look away. The song pulled me in and danced me round.  It took me on a trip to my own childhood.

This video is dedicated to all the nerds of the world

"Wow... That took me places." I laughed, turning off my phone and setting it down on the coffee table.
He laughed, "Yeah. It was tough shit growing up."

I nodded, agreeing, "I had my fair share of problems, too.  Very similar. I was always the weird one.  And people would call me names because I was in band."

He scoffed, "If they could see us now, huh?"

I laughed, smiling at him.  He smiled back at me.

"Y'know, Danny, if you ever want a trumpet in any of your songs, give me a call." I grabbed one of the many music sheets scattered and ripped an edge off, getting a pencil and writing down my phone number.  He giggled and took the paper from me.

He stared at the paper with a smile, "So... Why do you live in an apartment if you're a brass player, I mean, it's less expensive, sure.. But you seem well off enough." he asked, eyes coming back up to meet mine.

I sighed, still smiling, "If I lived in a house I wouldn't have gotten to meet you."

He considered it, then handed me my trumpet, "You're right.  Can I hear some sweet jams?"

I laughed at the dork of a human, "Fuck yeah."

and so we jammed out to each other's music for a long time.  I got to know him a bit better, and we ended up talking the entire day, going shopping and then getting dinner together.  It was hard to leave at the end of the day, especially since he kept telling me that it was a date.

I'll play Blue at home more often, then maybe he'll have an excuse to come over.

_____________________________________________________

Wow this wasn't great but skeet

As always, give requests and stuff man
thankies
bye bye luff yalls

Word Count: 2518