DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders or the characters in the book. It all belongs to the wonderful S.E. Hinton who created such a compelling universe. I also do not own Blackbird by The Beatles, from which I got my title.
A/N: Title may change. This is my first romance so if it starts to sound mechanical or just off, feel free to tell me so I can try and improve. But please do not take "romance" to mean "porn". If that's what you're looking for then don't bother. (Not that I want to deter readers, I'm just warning you.) Also, this fic will only have canon pairings; I think the girls Susie Hinton put in her novel have so much room for character development there's no point really in creating an OFC and inevitably Mary-Sueing her. Some people can pull that off but I'm probably not one of them.
-Takes breath- Okay now on with the story….
He rolled his eyes. What cruel person would force him, Steve, car-guru, to work the cash register while Mike, who wouldn't know half-moon slip joint pliers from a back-flap hinge if you twisted his nuts with it gets to repair the candy-apple red 1955 Chevy Bel-Air? Oh, right—John, the boss. But Steve told himself not to worry; soon enough John would become aware of his amazing skills with an automotive and he would never again be forced to stand around inside selling bags of chips to whining kids. After all, he'd only been at the DX a week. Perhaps he would come in on a day off and fix that car himself with god-like craftsmanship, purely out of the goodness of his heart, and John would appoint him Mechanic Numero Uno. Yeah, now that's a good idea, Steve thought.
"Hey Steve," Soda said walking inside the store, the little bell ringing as the door opened and closed.
"Heya, Soda. How goes the gas-pumping?"
"Great! I got about five girl's numbers, I think." He pulled a few scraps of paper out of his pocket. "Oh, six actually."
"Well, lucky you," Steve replied sarcastically and sighed.
Soda walked to the back and came back with two bottles of Coke. He handed Steve one.
"What'samatter? Cashier life ain't for you?"
"No, Soda, I'm absolutely thrilled to be here. How badly is Mike murdering that car?" Steve opened his Coke and took a sip.
Soda laughed. "Aw, don't worry, Stevie, you'll be working on the cars within a week."
"I better be. If not I might just opt to shoot myself in the foot."
Soda laughed again and took a seat up on the counter, taking a sip from his own drink. "Hey, I'm takin' that Sandy McCulloch girl to the movies this Friday, you wanna find a date and double? If she really wants to watch the movie I'm gonna be bored outta my mind."
Steve rolled his eyes again. "Don't think I didn't notice that ever-so-clever subject change. But to answer your question, I don't think so. I'm not the one who snagged six different girls numbers today, ya know."
Before Soda could answer the bell on the door jingled again and a dark-haired girl wearing a halter top and a skirt that came well above her knees walked in, smacking her gum loudly. Soda hopped off the counter as she walked up to it and slammed down her purse.
"Gimme a pack of Camels, would ya?" she demanded more than asked.
Steve studied her for a moment. Too much dark-blue eye shadow, pseudo-pink cheeks, lips the color of that car he so badly desired to be working on, thick eyeliner and mascara that made her eyelashes touch the tips of her brows. He wondered what she really looked like.
"You gonna get 'em for me or do I need come back there myself?" she asked, digging through her bag.
Steve took out a box of cigarettes and took one pack out. He handed it to her, and she shelled out the change. She raised a light-brown eyebrow at him before placing a cigarette between her lips and walking out.
Soda clapped his friend on the shoulder when the door closed. "You can take her, man!"
Steve turned to look at him indignantly. "She was certainly charming."
"And pretty too! Maybe a little heavy on the make-up, but what girl isn't?" Soda grinned.
Steve rolled his eyes for a third time. "I ain't askin' that girl out. Forget it."
Soda sighed melodramatically. "Fine, spend the rest of your life having sex with only yourself."
"Shut up, Soda, before I slug you."
Soda couldn't help but smile again. "Aw, I'm just churnin' your butter, you know that."
A honking car could be heard outside. Soda walked over and looked out the glass door. "Whoops, apparently I'm needed. Just think about comin', okay?"
Steve nodded simply to shut him up and Soda galloped outside to perform his gas-pumping and oil-checking duties. Steve sighed and took another gulp of his Coke. He wasn't going to ask out that girl, but there was something about her. There certainly was….
Sorry it's short, but I hope you enjoyed this. Please review and tell me what you think; constructive criticism is appreciated.