Handle the Randle - Y/N POV

                                    

                                          
Warnings: Swearing
Word Count: 468

The next few days following the incident were tough. Dally kept making kissy faces and licking his lips at us whenever possible, but just out of sight of Darry and the others. I swear, I was going to walk up and slap him good. Johnny and I weren't ready to take it up to there. Not yet. We both agreed that we should wait for the right time. After marriage? Who knows. But I wasn't planning on getting pregnant any time soon. 
I spent that week helping Soda and Steve at the DX. I wasn't surprised by the number of girls that swung by acting all stupid over Soda. I could tell that Steve seemed a little jealous of all the attention Soda was getting, so I helped him in the back while Soda was entertaining the flirting girls. 
"Hey," I said, walking into the garage. Steve was under a car.
"Hey," he said, irritatedly, sliding out. 
"What are you doing?" I asked, walking up beside him.
He gave me an 'are you stupid' look and replied, "I'm swimming in the goddamn Bermuda Triangle - I'm changing an engine, dumbass!" 
"Can I help?" I asked, peering underneath the car. He gave me another look.
"Uh, you're a girl," he snapped.
"You're being misogynistic again, Steve-" 
"What the fuck is misogynistic even?" 
"Sexist!" 
"But cars are for guys!" Steve snapped, grabbing a torque wrench. "Go back to helping Soda get girls and being a goddamn hot as hell cashier. It'll attract customers. Leave the car stuff for me."
"Steve, you're using a 3/8 inch. You need a 1/2 inch." 
Steve looked at his hands, blushed furiously, and swapped his torque wrenches. "You know your cars?"
"A couple," I said, proudly. "Before my Dad got to be a raging alcoholic, he taught me a lot." 
He nodded a bit, wiping the brake dust off of his face.  "You like 'em?" 
"Yeah, they're cool. One day, cars are going to look real good," I said, running my finger over the red car. "Hopefully I get to see that day."
"Me too," Steve said, dreamily. "Maybe we'll even have flying cars down in the 2000s or so." 
"Maybe," I said. Steve slid back underneath the car. 
"Hey, grab me the 4 inch-" Steve said. 
"You mean the 8 inch?" I said, snootily. 
"8- goddamnit-" he cursed. I smirked, handing him the wrench. 

I felt like Steve and I got a little closer after that. He took me for a ride in his car on our break and we played 'name that car'. Steve won, but I was pretty close. Then, he helped me prank Soda by cleverly placing a balloon filled with Coke on the door and popping on him when it came down. After that, we just called him Cokey. Maybe Steve wasn't so bad.