#stallypop

The heat of the sun filled the car like cotton. Soft inhale, tight exhale.

It was summer. Hot and stuffy with the air stiff dry as the clouds had sucked up all the moisture, keeping it held for rain, making the threat of awful humidity. The curse of the south.

There were three boys in the car. Two in the back, previously trying to sleep, and one in the front to drive. The car drummed gently, thumping around and underneath their seats, giving the car a gentle ebb like a boat on water as they were pulled forwards on four wheels against the road.

Golden blonde hair pressed daftly against the window, absorbing the sun and illuminating a soft glow. Soda’s eyes were shut, and his expression fell soft. He breathed in the cotton air, wetting it in his mouth, and breathing it back out with the same heat it started with.

He listened to his surroundings. The hum of the radio, the impatient tapping of two fingers against a window, and the tip-tip-tip-tip of the motor.

Tap, tap, tap. Dallas Winston was sprawled out in the backseat with Soda. He trilled without any count on the window. His leg bounced off-beat, and his other hand was busy twirling a piece of his own hair. Every so often, he would knock knees with Soda and earn a complaining murmur out of him, and Dallas did nothing to prevent it.

He could’ve easily tucked his leg in, but unfortunately he enjoyed bothering the other when he was also annoyed. He wasn't just going to sit and be the only one who was irked.

All three boys had been trapped in the car together for about 3 hours.

The sun continued to stuff the air with warmth. The radio still droned.

The lack of any good music was really starting to make Dallas itch. It wasn’t any help to him that he’d gotten stuffed into the backseat an hour earlier because he couldn’t keep out of Steve’s face, and now he couldn’t even slip up there just to fix the radio without earning a bite from the guard dog sitting right next to it.

As if he’d heard the internal grumbling, Steve turned his head. “Dallas.”

Dallas dropped his head to look at him, growing spiky as he stopped tapping the window. He sat up slowly, stretching his legs out and losing his raised hairs as he regrounded. Once dropped, he hardened back into place like a statue.

This process had placed Soda, shoving his legs straight into the door, and unlike the last couple of pushes, he didn’t get a reaction out of it.

“Is he sleeping?”

“I don’t know.”

Dallas shifted. Soda’s eyes remained closed. Steve continued to drive.

“Soda. You ‘sleep?”

Soda let out a sharp breath, like he had been holding his breath until he was mentioned, and he answered thickly, quiet in his voice that was sticky and coated with the sun.

“No, man.”

He did not move. He didn’t open his eyes. There was another brief moment of silence, and the car slowly began to turn on the road as they went. The sun dipped closer, baiting light, fishing into the pond of contained air, waiting to see which lungs it could seep into and fill with warmth. Soda was already hooked.

Soda let out a deep sigh into the light before he was stabbed.

Right in between his ribs jabbed Dallas Winston’s about-to-be-broken finger, and Soda smacked him away and turned.

“Quit it, Dally!” He shouted, annoyed in his half-awakeness.

Dallas laughed at him, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.”

A second passed, and Dallas had made an effort to kick Curtis’s leg right into the door, hard. It left a buzz and a sting, and Soda huffed.

“Dallas–“ Steve started, but didn’t get to finish.

There was a bang on the door as Soda twisted up in his seat and got on his knees in the middle seat to get the height advantage to go for the head. Dallas took it as a quick opportunity to duck and dive after him. They exploded against each other.

Soda grasped and pulled as Dallas shoved and bit, and Soda hollered and punched Dallas right in the back as he did so. The two of them rocked the car roughly as Soda landed back into his original seat and knocked his head, and he kicked Dallas away from him.

They threw themselves back at each other and Steve growled, flipping around quickly and grabbing someone’s sleeve, throwing them into the floorboards.

“Jesus Christ, can you two fucking q—“ Steve was cut off has he was thrown half way out of his seat, and everything quickly slid to the right.

The car groaned uncomfortably as it steered into the shoulder and nearly hit grass, whatever sun was left in the vehicle had spilled and splashed out and left them in a shadow. Everything rattled, shaking and awkward and leaving the two boys in the back toppled on top of each other like a lose-lose game of tug o’ war, both crunched onto the floor.

Steve tossed himself back into his seat and swerved the car back into the lane.

Thank god for empty roads.

Soda was smack on the floor, arm uncomfortably squished and legs in a twist as Dallas was crossed over and under him with his legs crunched and his arms still around what he assumed was Soda’s other arm.

“Get offa me, Soda.”

“Let up first, id’it.” Soda said as he shoved Dallas, and a swift fist flew up to aim.

“You two keep at it, and I’ll come back there and whip you both myself before I leave you on this damn highway stranded.”

Getting a threat like that from Steven Randle was absolutely no joke, but with the boredom the two blondes shared, they couldn't help but think about if, maybe.

Dallas dropped his arm and threw himself back into his seat as Soda slowly unstuck himself from the floor, skin peeling off the rubber floor covers. This car was due for a cleaning.

He propped himself up with his elbows on the console, and he looked at Steve with a big smile on his face.

Steve glared at Dallas through the mirror, before glancing down at Soda and doing the same to ensure he was serious.

Both troublemakers rocked back in unison and giggled.

A second passed and Soda quickly began to spill himself out into the front passenger seat, Steve glancing up and immediately smacking and shoving Soda to move, to which Soda ignored. His moving gave Dallas all the space in the backseats, and he spread out in the middle, leaning forward to sit between the two of them.

“We’re sorry, Steve, we weren't tryna to give you any trouble,” Soda said.

“Bullshit, you weren't. You two are as difficult as a pair of alley cats, you know that? I oughta shove your heads in boxes.”

Steve gave Soda another glare, but quickly noticed Dallas was right in between them and it missed Soda entirely.

“Sorry, Steve.” Dallas smiled.

Steve huffed, tightening his grip on the wheel.