Work Text:
It was raining.
That was all Soda could think as he jammed his hands in his pockets and continued walking. It was raining, he was soaking wet, and he was ready to cry.
He had started to walk to Bucks, because why wouldn’t he, of course he would. Then he had remembered he couldn’t go to Bucks anyway, and he sure as hell didn’t want to go back home, and then the sky had opened up and he was getting rained on.
He wondered vaguely if he could go to Bucks anyway, and just stay downstairs, but that was useless. If Dally said for Buck to not let him in, he wouldn’t.
Soda stopped, closing his eyes for a second and allowing his chest to heave with one silent sob before he rubbed furiously at his eyes with his damp sleeve. He was so tired, so done, and he didn’t know where to go.
Eventually, he decided he had to go somewhere, so he made a u-turn and walked towards the lot. Johnny stayed there sometimes, he could manage for a night.
He thought about Pony and Darry, probably still going at each other, not noticing as he slipped out the front door. He wondered if Pony would ask where he was, when he got into bed and Soda wasn’t buried under the covers.
He could see the chain-link fence of the lot only a block away, and he sighed to himself as he made his way slowly over. He scanned the lot for a smaller, raven-haired boy, but didn’t find him. The lot seemed empty, and Soda sighed again in relief that he didn’t have to deal with any Socs on their territory.
He was just standing staring at the lot, not getting any dryer than before when he felt a tap on his shoulder and whirled around.
The blonde hair gave him away. Dally's face was almost completely obscured by shadows, but not even a Soc had that hair.
“I knew you’d be here.” His voice was dry, it sounded like he had smoked about fifteen cigarettes before he came around, and his breath smelled faintly of cheap liquor.
Soda was vaguely aware of his teeth chattering, and Dally moved as if to slip out of his jacket before Soda shook his head, once, twice.
“Pony and Darry fighting?” Dally’s voice was still hard, but his eyes looked almost concerned.
Soda didn't answer still, holding himself stiffly and curling his hands into fists at his sides. He wouldn't answer, he wouldn't speak, he wouldn't-
“Come’on Sodapop, give me something…”
Soda felt as if he might punch him at any moment, and so he pushed blindly past him, walking as fast as he could back onto the sidewalk and starting towards his house. He could hear Dallys footsteps behind him, chasing him, and Soda felt as horrible as if it was a Soc and not Dally.
“Leave me alone,” he hissed, turning around and almost running into Dally, who stopped walking and stood, his hands shoved in his pockets and watching Soda.
“Soda…”
“No-I don’t care what you have to say to me, alright? You-you did this, this isn’t my fault. I didn’t need a break, I didn’t need-whatever you call this-“ Soda gestured between them desperately. “You don’t get to call all the shots, you don’t get to-“
“Soda-“
“And goddamnit, I’m sick of being your toy, tossed all around and used by you! I don’t-I don’t know why, god, but you mean…you mean more to me then that! I don’t want to be your little-I don’t even know. I want-I wanted to kiss you, and love you, and not just be kicked out after a quick fuck-after you’re done with me.”
It was silent for a moment, Dally’s cheeks were faintly pink in the dim light, and Soda could feel his face heating. Why did he never know when to shut up?
“Oh.”
Was that all he could say?
“I didn’t-I never thought…” Dally's voice trailed off again, and he yanked his hands out of his pocket and fumbled as he tried to light a cigarette. The rain was still pouring, making his hair stick down and settle, damp and straightened around his ears and on his forehead.
“I’m sorry.” That's all he could think to say.
“You don't have to be sorry, man-I just never thought…”
It was silent for another minute. Soda's teeth still were chattering, and he felt a shiver go down his spine as he stood there.
“I should go home…” He was so tired, it showed in his voice.
“Let me walk you.”
“You don't have to-”
“I want to.”
And Soda didn't know how it happened, but their lips had met halfway, and Dally's hands were everywhere, on his hips, in his hair, on his face. Dally tasted like smoke and whiskey and Soda hated it and loved it at the same time.
They pulled apart a second later, and Dally smirked as if he had won something, but Soda noticed the pink on the tips of his ears and how he fiddled with his ring before pulling it off and dropping it into his palm.
“Let me walk you home now?”
Soda slipped the ring onto his finger, pushing his doubts about Dally aside and leaning onto his shoulder as Dally slipped a hand around his waist.
“Whatever you say, pretty boy”
“I am not pretty-”
“Yes you are.”