trapped in a soda can (sodapop x reader)

Home Sweet Home

"Gang?" I echoed.

Was this dangerous? A gang seemed dangerous. But these people were anything but dangerous, and have been generous the entire time.

Steve grinned. "We're more like a family, but 'gang' has a pretty ring to it. Don'tcha think?"

By now the sun was painting the sky with a soft orange, blending in with the tips of the rooftops. I was so preoccupied by the sky and the street signs that I didn't notice Sodapop prodding at my arm until he let out a cough.

I turned, and exclaimed the most ungodly "Hi!"

"You dig the sunset too? Pony sure does."

I imagined a scene with Pony and Sodapop sitting by a window, Pony's mouth ajar as he watched the sunset, Sodapop's eyes locked on his brother.

"Guess I do."

A laugh erupted from the house beside us, followed by a stern shout and a yelp, then more laughter.

"Home sweet home!" Steve said, his accent slanging his words.

Naturally, the two boys found their way in first- Sodapop had gone and said "Ladies first!" at the chain fence, to which I declined- while I took stiff steps behind them as we went inside.

Once inside, I looked around, greeted by a bunch of shocked faces scattered across the brown living room. Whatever laughter I heard was quieted down; sounds of Mickey Mouse playing on the TV were the only thing filling the air.

Suddenly, a jumpy Ponyboy came galloping from across the kitchen, playfully kicking Sodapop in the shin, then looking behind him. There I was, hiding like a shadow once again.

"Y/N!" he announced.

Ponyboy took me by an arm and dragged me out from behind Sodapop and sat me down on the center of the couch, beside a silent, timid boy in a jean jacket, his round eyes plastered onto me. I too exchanged the same wide-eyed, scared look to which they all laughed at.

"They look about the same! Got ourselves another pet guys!" howled a man in a Mickey Mouse shirt. He was splayed across the floor, a bottle of beer glued to his hands.

My face heated up, and Ponyboy took the pleasure to bonk the top of my head. An introduction was what he wanted, I had guessed, so I delivered one. "I'm Y/N, a friend of Pony's."

The Mickey Mouse man pulled himself up from the floor and shook my hand courteously. "Name's Two-Bit. Pleasure to meet ya." Two-Bit gave me a toothy smile, and slicked his brown hair back.

I shook hands with all of them, Darry, Pony and Soda's big brother, second in line.

"You got lost, I heard?"

"Yep," I sighed, and explained the initial plan.

"You guys should've just met at the Dingo, then found your way here. Would've saved more time. Guess you're as cotton brained as my kid-brother," he shot us a small grin, then went back to cook in the kitchen.

Darry seemed older than I was told, and I suppose it was caused by the stress or whatnot of keeping your two younger brothers alive. I wondered where Darry might've been in life now, if he hadn't had to take on a parental role so soon; Pony had told me about what happened to their parents. I found myself pitying the Curtis brothers, but stopped as I breathed in the life around me.

It was a wonderful life, I had thought, with friends who had your back no matter what. I had felt overly grateful to simply be standing there with them.

Next was Dallas Winston, a dangerous fella from what I've been told.

"He sure is finer than hell," Tiff had once said to me. "But that boy is in and out of the cooler, and if you ever wanna get laid by him, you outta be a serial killer or something!" This was funny then, but now that I was face to face with Dallas, my skin went cold.

He was gorgeous; like a lynx or something, beautiful, yet if you get too close he'll greet you with hostility. Yet as I stood there, hand in his, I discovered that he was in fact, sly as a fox.

"Hey doll," he had said to me in a raspy voice.

"Hi Dallas."

"Just call me Dally," he was so close to my face by now, and I felt myself burning with an assortment of emotions. Two arms pulled me back, and I turned to see Sodapop.

"Cut it out Dal."

Dally chuckled and winked, "she's a nice girl." And with that, he was off to go pester Darry.

I had discovered that Dally had a shadow as well, the olive-skinned boy with round brown eyes. He had a scar on his face, which Pony warned me not to bring up. We shook hands and I smiled at him, but all he did was shy away, his long, greasy, dark hair bouncing slightly as he sat down on the couch. Johnny, was his name. Out of them all, Johnny somewhat took my heart, and I had the urge to take him home as my son.

"How old are you?" I called out to him.

Glancing up, he gave a nervous sigh. "Sixteen."

This fact came as a shock to me, for he looked about Pony's age, if not, younger even. I heard Dally clear his throat behind me and took the hint to not ask unless offered. Turning, I walked on over to Ponyboy, who was about the only person in the whole house who I was comfortable around.

We talked about random things, and came to the sad conclusion that by now the Dingo was closed, and our idea of milkshakes was thrown out the door. Although it was nice to be around the others, we wanted some time to ourselves; it was a simple friendship thing, really.

Suddenly, Pony shot up, electrified. A glimmer of excitement sparked his gray eyes as he got an idea.

"You wanna head to the lot?"