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When Steve pulls in the DX and gets out of his beat-up ride, the sun has barely begun to rise. He was early, like he tried to be on weekends. He liked the quiet before the storm of Saturday mornings, when it seemed like all of Tulsa needed their gas pumped.
Digging his keys out of his pocket, he walks towards the building, trying to mentally prepare for the day ahead. He begins his Saturday morning ritual, unlocking the door, turning on the lights, and opening the cash drawer— real exciting stuff. He then heads towards the back to grab his station shirt from their makeshift break room. He opens the door, flips the lights on, and sees…
“Soda?”
His jean jacket draped over him like a blanket, Soda is curled up on the ratty couch in the corner of the small room. He doesn’t stir when Steve calls his name.
Steve walks over and puts a hand in the blond’s hair, gently ruffling it. “Hey, buddy, wake up. What’re you doin’ here?”
Soda instinctively curls into the warmth of Steve’s hand, like a dog being scratched behind the ear. Steve smirks. Soda’s spent so much time around animals he damn near acts like one sometimes.
“Hey, Stevie.” Soda yawns, sitting up. “Sorry if I spooked ya,” he adds with a half hearted grin, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Steve takes a spot next to him. “You alright? Didn’t know the boss started givin’ graveyard shifts.”
Despite how peaceful he looked while asleep, now that he was awake, Steve could see how beat Soda looked. His usual energized expression was dull, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
Soda hums sadly. “Yesterday Darry n’ Pony really got into it, and I just didn’t wanna be in there. I can’t stand when they fight, I just can’t.” Steve could see tears forming in Soda’s tired eyes as his voice hitched. “Every time they fight it’s just another reminder that Mom n’ Dad ain’t here. Mom can’t scold Pony for mouthin’ off and Dad can’t tell Darry to relax. It ain’t how it used to be, and I hate it, and… and I can’t do nothin’ about it.”
Steve couldn’t think of much to do except put an arm around Soda’s shoulder, knowing how affectionate he was. “You don’t look great, pal. Somethin’ else botherin’ you too?”
Soda leans into Steve, putting his head on his shoulder, and sighs deeply before answering, “Well, I ain’t takin’ the whole Sandy situation too well neither.”
Steve mentally kicked himself for forgetting. Yeah, your girl gettin’ pregnant with someone else’s kid and leavin’ might bother a guy a little. “Shoot, man, I get it. After me ‘n Evie broke it off I missed her somethin’ crazy.”
“No, it ain’t that. I… Well, I guess it just all made sense, and now it don’t.” Soda paused, searching for a way to express what he meant. It was just ol’ Steve and him, he didn’t have to sugarcoat nothin’ or try and sound smart.
Steve let silence fill the air, knowing Soda was going to continue.
The blond sniffled, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve before starting again, speaking slowly. “I was gonna marry her. Settle down ‘n all like you’re supposed to. ‘N that was the plan, I thought I had it all figured out. That’s why I told her I’d marry her anyway, n’ take care of the kid even though it ain’t mine.” Soda shook his head, “Now that’s all gone, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I just don’t feel right. I’m all mixed up, I guess.”
Something breaks a little inside of Steve as he listens to Soda, hearing his best buddy’s voice crack as he continues to fight back tears. “When I get home and they’re fightin’, I feel even worse. I can’t keep a girl, can’t make my brothers happy, can’t even stay in school. I just don’t know what I’m doin’, man.”
Steve’s arm is still around Soda, gently rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “Why’d ya come here?”
“I dunno. I like it here. Fixin’ cars, doin’ somethin’ I’m good at. There’s somethin’ here that makes me feel like maybe I ain’t too bad.” Soda’s voice had quieted as he spoke.
It wasn’t just the fixing cars and charming customers he liked. Being with Steve was by far his favorite part— when he’d come in with gossip from school and they’d gab about it for hours, or when a real wacky customer would come in and the boys would burst into laughter as soon as they left, or whenever Soda fixed a particularly beat up car and Steve would clap him on the shoulder in congratulation, making Soda’s stomach do somersaults.
Soda straightens up and turns to look at Steve, hesitating before he speaks. “Nothin’ I do feels right anymore, except… except bein’ with you.”
His hand grazes Steve’s tattooed bicep, pulling him closer, as Steve takes his collar in his hand, his fingers gentle at the nape of Soda’s neck. They stay there for a moment, silent as they gaze into each other's eyes. Suddenly their lips meet in a tender kiss– soft, short, and sweet.
Steve pulls away first, scanning the other boy’s face for his reaction. “How’d that feel?”
Soda smiles, his eyes shining, “Just right.”