A/N: Hello there! Such a small Grease 2 fandom across the web, thought I'd throw my hat in the ring. This fic will span the events of Grease 2 and leading up to it, with a few cameos of the original Grease gang, and include canon ships. Every time I watch the movie, I always wondered what Stephanie and Johnny's relationship was like before she dumped him, and could find barely any fics covering that, so just had to write it myself! That will not be the focus of the fic, just a part of it, as we explore the inner world and background of each greaser. Also, please note that while I plan for this fic to be 13 chapters long, it will probably not have a very high word count (both chapter-wise and wholly), since I kind of want to just snapshot different moments for the characters throughout the plot. Just a heads-up in case you're not super into that. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

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SUMMER, 1959

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The summer of 1959 was a wake-up call for Sharon Cooper. The coolest Pink Ladies and T-Birds in the history of Rydell High have graduated, and it was now up to the underclassmen to maintain their sacred reputation. Sure, Sharon and her friends were only rising juniors, so wouldn't have full rule of the school until the next year, but wasn't that just around the corner? Plus, this was the year she needed to prove herself to Tina Pioroski, newly appointed Pink Lady President. Stephanie Zinone was the shoe-in to inherit it next, there was no doubt; the blonde was effortlessly cool, just started going with the T-Bird's JV hotshot, Johnny Nogerelli, and practically born into the club. If Sharon wanted a shot at Pink Lady leadership, she was going to have to step up her game big time. So, the week after graduation, Sharon decided to start by going right over Tina's head and straight to the top.

With Frenchy's help, Sharon procured a meeting with Betty Rizzo herself. The sharp-tongued brunette wasn't everyone's favorite Pink Lady nor person, but Sharon respected her cutthroat tenacity and unwavering confidence. The first Sharon possessed in spades. The second, however, was the subject of her quest for guidance.

Sharon met Rizzo and Frenchy at a walk-up ice cream parlor, somewhere where none of their gang usually hang out since there's only limited outdoor seating. The two older girls were already parked at one of the picnic tables, appreciating their cold confections under the hot California sun. Sharon slid into the bench across from them, uninterested in actually getting any ice cream herself.

"Ah, there's the little suck-up," Rizzo smirked at the sixteen-year-old. "Heard you wanted to skip the line for Pink Lady prez." She ignored Frenchy's protests that that's not how she put it and that Rizzo said she'd be nice.

Refusing to prickle and show she was intimidated, Sharon straightened her posture and smiled politely. "That's right. I think I have the proper leadership qualities to be a good president, but I know I'm not going to be Tina's first choice. Yet. So I hoped I could learn from the coolest, most confident chick around."

Rizzo arched a dark eyebrow at her candor. Even though they were all sitting still, Sharon couldn't help feeling like Rizzo was circling her like an apex predator with just her eyes. "You wanna know the honest scoop? Why Zinone is gonna beat you out without even trying? It's not the chrome pedigree, sweetcheeks."

Sharon failed to look unaffected this time. How dare she just presume she'll lose? She'd never paid any of them hardly any attention since their Pink Lady inductions freshman year, who was she to say their degrees of motivation? She flicked her stare to Frenchy, hoping the more involved sorority sister would stick up for her, but the ginger girl's eyes were resigned to her strawberry cone.

"It's because," Rizzo demanded her attention again, "she won't be trying at all. The Pink Lady Pledge is what?"

"To act cool, to look cool, and to be cool. Til death do us part, think pink," Sharon recited dutifully, squaring her shoulders.

"The perfect Pinky's got all three. I got it. Marty's got it. Jan and Frenchy here pretty much bleed pink. Hell, even Sandra Dee got it eventually." She rolled her eyes at her own admission. "Out of your year? Zinone's got it already. You, and this adorable brown-nosing routine, only got two outta three. Act cool, look cool: those are easy. Smoke a cigarette, wear pants, make out with some dick in leather wings—any two-bit dame can do that, okay? A Pink Lady is cool by not caring about coolness so much. She simply thinks pink first and everyone else's bullshit after. The 'til death do us part' ain't about the guys or even the jacket, babe," Rizzo chuckled, pulling her own monogramed pink outerwear up her shoulders, and rose from the bench. She offered a hand to Frenchy, locking elbows with her once they were both standing. "It's about your girls."

With that, the young women departed, Frenchy turning to wave goodbye, and left Sharon alone at the parlor to absorb her words. It took a good five minutes before Sharon even felt herself blink. A war between offense and shame brewed in her. She sought Rizzo for help and had only gotten insulted and admonished, but damn if she didn't learn something from it too. As much as it killed her to admit it, she couldn't deny that she was indeed not being a proper Pink. She was actively trying to undermine one of her best friends for her own gain, and not even an immediate gain at that. Stephanie would never pull this on her, nor would Paulette or Rhonda (and, if Sharon was being totally honest with herself, airheaded Paulette would probably be the actual second choice over her anyway based on coolness).

Finally, the curly-haired brunette's gears stopped turning long enough to realize she should probably go back home. Thankfully no one had witnessed her public scolding, but she felt like an open wound. Her skirt rustled as she swung her legs over the bench and walked back towards the few blocks to her house.

Halfway there, however, she found herself thoroughly distracted from her turmoil. One of the other underclassmen T-Birds, Louis DiMucci, was driving by in his crappy third-hand coup when he spotted her and offered a ride the rest of her way home. After considering a moment, she agreed and slid into the passenger seat. From what she'd observed of him, he acted a little less rowdy than the other greasers and seemed smarter, though that wasn't a difficult feat, but this was the first time they've ever interacted alone.

Unbeknownst to her, Louis was extremely familiar with Sharon and had strong opinions about her—namely, that she was strong, smart, smokin', and that he would do anything to make her his girl. A chivalrous ride home, in his own car? He fancied himself off to an impressive start. When he would tell his buddies about this later, he would embellish a kiss on her way out, but for now he enjoyed her conversation. He only asked her a single question ("So how's your summer goin' so far?") and she launched into a breathless ten-minute spiel about, well, he didn't even understand what, but he found himself hanging on every word. As he pulled in front of her house and cut the engine, Sharon finally stopped talking, but looked reluctant about it.

"I should hurry in, before my mother sees me in a car with a boy." Despite the supposed rush, her hand was slow to the door. She paused with her fingers gripped on the handle. "Thank you for the ride, DiMucci...and for listening."

He shot her his most charming grin. "Any time, doll. Maybe I'll see you around."

She smiled in turn, and Rizzo's rude but sage advice echoed in her mind. Act cool. "Yeah, maybe so, if I find the time. Bye, Louis." She lets his name roll off her tongue before exiting the vehicle. Look cool. Heading up to her door, she made sure to sway her hips a little as she walked in case he was watching her—but she resisted the urge to look back to check if so. Be cool.

Sharon disappeared into her house, Louis's eyes indeed following her the entire way in. Hate to see her go, love to watch her walk away, he sighed. Was his mouth this dry before? He twisted the car key so to physically outrun the sudden tightness in his jeans, but the ignition sputtered. Only after the fourth attempt did the engine turn over and he could pull away from the Cooper's curb. He cursed the subpar car, swearing to either fully fix or sell it for parts by the end of summer.

Just as he promised himself this, he braked at a red light next to a mechanic. Right out front of the shop were a fleet of shiny black motorcycles. A couple of the other T-Birds had been telling the gang lately that cycles were cheaper to buy and maintain than cars, and Johnny in particular said that getting his was the key to winning Stephanie Zinone. A sleek lil steel number like that would probably turn Sharon on more than this shit-mobile. Louis suddenly found himself on firmly the bandwagon.

Trendsetters by occupation, when the fall semester rolled around, all of the junior class T-Birds showed up attached to roaring crotch-rockets. Though not as visually flashy as Greased Lightning nor the other T-Bird hotrods, the motorcycles caught even more attention by their noise alone. No one could not notice the four boys' arrival. Both the senior T-Birds, to each other, and Principal McGee, to her secretary Blanche, commented that that crop were going to be a handful.

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A/N: Like I said, pretty short. Though the next chapter, focusing on Stephanie's past and her relationship with Johnny, will be longer.

If you have any constructive criticism, please drop a review! Thank you!