Here we go again! Ekkkkkkkkkkk!

This is the first of two epilogues, if that kind of thing is allowed. This is the semi plot like epilogue.

Disclaimers:

Same as always, although this chappie is mild.

Here's how Soda's night went.

Bitch seat- the back seat (aka anyone not driving is in the bitch seat) of a motorcycle.

Soda waved Steve and Pony off, watching Steve's car drive away. He sighed. There was a long, boring night ahead of him, filled with thoughts of what Steve was doing to his brother. Soda shivered. He walked into the Dingo and sat up at the bar, feeling irritation at the busy noise around him. He order a Coke and the bartender gave him a long look. When his Coke came, it was more than just Coke and the bartender patted his arm. He probably looked like he was drinking off a rough break up, but really he was drinking off a rough week. And the thoughts of his best friend fucking his baby brother.

"Bartender, could I get another?"

"Sure sweet heart."

Soda was glad that not many people he knew stopped by. He didn't want to expend energy into forcing a smile and pretending to be interested in the girls that flirted. He hadn't been interested since he met Sandie. Mostly because he didn't just want a girl to go out with on Friday nights, or a girl that wasn't too bad to look at; he wanted someone to love, and no one his age was looking for that. They were looking for a fella to take them to the movies and try out his moves, or another Greaser to hang around with.

It was all very disheartening, even for the movie star handsome Sodapop.

Soda noticed that his fifth drink was just a Coke, but the bartender was still smiling.

(la la la)

"All right sweet heart, it's almost closing time. Want me to top off your soda?"

"Yes please." Soda said.

He'd never seen the Dingo empty on a Friday night, but it was closing time and everyone had seemingly found their someone to go home with, except Soda and the bartender. Then again, a car with its headlights on was in the parking lot, and the bartender was smiling at it. So, Soda hadn't found someone to go home with, but he hadn't exactly been looking.

Soda was still sad.

And thinking about who Pony had gone home with didn't help.

And what Steve had been doing all evening, or who, rather, really didn't make him feel happy.

Soda stopped being able to think real clear when a thunderous motor sounded in the parking lot. He looked to it and blinked. Motorcycle. A damn loud one. Soda gave it a long look as the rider slipped off. Real small guy, especially to be riding such a big bike. Soda arched an eyebrow.

Steve and Pony must be getting to him, because that guy's ass was looking real good in those chaps…

Then the helmet came off, and streams of raven colored hair slipped free as a tall, thin woman with a nice butt in tight black leather chaps flipped her hair and set her helmet on her kick ass motorcycle.

Soda's eyebrows valiantly rose, as if trying to reach his hairline to express his shock. He tried to tame them as she headed in and he stopped staring, instead focusing on his glass of Coke.

"Hey darling, we're closing soon, but can I get you something?"

"Got any coffee sitting around, getting cold?"

She leaned on the counter, her leather jacket hitching up and exposing ivory skin, and a rose tattoo in the middle of her back, with a name in a curvy banner below it. Soda had to keep from laughing when he figured out what the name was: Daddy. And Soda didn't want to acknowledge how far he had to lean back to see it, or how obvious it may or may not have been that he was indeed leering a little.

"Sure do. Want me to nuke it and pretend it's freshly brewed?" The bartender asked.

"Naw, ruins the charm. Mind if I smoke?"

"Knock yourself out honey." The bartender disappeared into the back room. Soda felt her gaze rest on him and took a sip from his Coke.

"Do you have a light, little fella?" She asked.

"Yeah." Soda said. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a lighter. She leaned close, a Virginia slim dangling from her lips, and he lit it. She leaned back again, her hips tilted as she smiled into his eyes. Her jeans hung low on her hips and Soda noticed the tips of tattoos on both her hips. What he'd give to know what they were-

"Care for a drag, darling?" She asked, startling Soda out of his reverie.

"Sure." Soda said. He took a drag and passed it back.

"What's your name, little fella?" She asked, perching on the stool next to him as she crossed her legs. Soda had never seen a girl wear those knee high fashion boots and be able to do more than walk.

"Sodapop."

"Get out." She said.

"Naw, really."

"Well then, Sodapop, why are you still here? It's late, you're alone and the bartender is gonna throw you out real soon. You must be nursing quite a hurt."

"My brother ran off with my best friend." Soda said.

"That's harsh little fella." The bartender poured her a cold coffee and disappeared again.

"I know. Trying to drown my sorrows in Coke." Soda lifted his glass and she clanked her mug to it.

"That's no way to forget your troubles Sodapop. But we both know that. What do you say I give you a lift?"

"You don't even know where I live." Soda said.

"I didn't say I'd take you home." She said, getting up and slipping an arm around Soda's shoulders as he stumbled off the stool. Soda chuckled as he considered the offer. Best one he'd heard all night.

"I'm just drunk enough to think that you aren't a serial killer, just a kind soul with a motorcycle." Soda said.

"Honey, even a serial killer wouldn't waste a fabulous piece of man flesh like yourself." She said, smiling at him as he met her ocean depth blue eyes for the first time. His knees shook even as she steadied him.

"I never did ask what your name was." Soda said, slipping closer under the guise of being a little tipsier than he was.

She pulled him close, put her hand in his back pocket and squeezed.

"I never said I'd tell you either, little fella." She smiled.

"You look really good in those chaps." Soda said, grinning as she opened the door.

"And you'd look really good in the bitch seat of my Harley, so get on behind me Pepsi boy, or you're walking."

I'm sorry, but to me, this is kinda funny. And I don't intend it to be a Mary Sue, I just wanted to see Soda get hauled off by a biker chick because he seems like he'd just nod and be transfixed by the excess of leather.

P.S. The second epilogue, which will come later, will be more, smutty. Bwa ha ha.

Did you like it? Seriously... Am I just weird?