Sodapop was patting himself in the back about his decission of borrowing Two-Bit's car to go the drive in to watch a movie with you. He was on cloud nine, he was sure the pearly gates of heaven had opened up for him.

The movie playing on the big screen was completely forgotten by now, something about girls on a beach drooling over surfer boys. The distant sound of people talking was drowned out by the warmth pooling in his ears like liquid lava, a slight ringing sound, his lips stretched into a goofy grin as he stared up at you with his blue eyes —almost dumbly.

The night had gotten cold twenty minutes into the movie and your boyfriend had suggested you sitting on his lap so he could hug you and keep you both warm. Safe to say that you were still on his lap, except his hair was all messed up —courtesy of your fingers— and his face was covered in lipstick marks.

He had oogled you too much when he had seen you taking out the intense red lipstick to reaply, his eyes looking at you as you spread it on your lips. When you looked back at him with a quirked eyebrow, asking with a chuckle if you had something on your face, he replied with "no, you don't have nothin' on your face, baby. But I wanna have somethin' on mine, kiss me?" he was smooth, but in an endearing way.

And that's how you had ended up sitting on his lap, your knees touching the worn out leather of the seats of the car to each side of his hips. He was looking up at you with his lips slightly parted and his pupils blown.

His dark hair was messed up, but his face was the bigger mess, though. Cheeks, lips, forehead, jaw and some of his neck covered in sticky kisses in the shape of your lips and the colour of your lipstick. His hands gave your hips a small squeeze when you kept kissing his jaw and neck. He had gone without a kiss on the lips for too long. "go back to my lips?" he requested, breathy and almost breathy, his chest heaving as he flashed you a goofy smile.