The DRIVE IN

the DRIVE IN

chris and babydoll reader

summary.. After a group movie night, Chris drives you home and doesn’t know how to act.

The night air was warm, thick with the faint smell of popcorn and exhaust from the drive-in. Chris had parked a little away from the crowd when you all arrived, his old car a quiet escape from the chaos of your friends, who somehow always seemed louder in public. The movie had been alright, not that Chris had been paying much attention. His eyes kept drifting, almost like they had a mind of their own, to you.

You had leaned back against the car seat, your hair perfectly framing your face, the glow of the giant screen painting your skin in shifting light. You didn’t say much during the film, just a few clever quips about the plot and one or two sarcastic remarks that had him smirking. But when you laughed, soft and sudden, it was like something had shifted in the air, and Chris felt it in his chest, sharp and undeniable.

Now, the car hummed quietly as he drove you home, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel. You sat beside him, turned just enough to let the warm breeze from the open window brush your face. Your scent lingered in the small space between you, light and familiar, something he never wanted to forget.

“Didn’t think you’d enjoy the movie,” he said, breaking the silence in a way that felt more casual than it actually was. His eyes flicked toward you, hoping to catch something, anything, in your expression.

You tilted your head, lips pulling into a half-smile. “It was fine. Could’ve done without all the explosions, though.”

“Explosions are the best part,” he shot back, grinning like he was trying to win you over.

“Yeah, for someone with no taste,” you teased, your tone light but sharp enough to shut him down in that effortless way you always seemed to have.

He laughed, shaking his head. “You really don’t let me have anything, do you?”

You shrugged, your eyes still on the window. “You don’t need me to.”

Chris bit the inside of his cheek, his grin softening into something quieter. You always had this way of cutting through all the nonsense, leaving him feeling completely seen. It wasn’t a bad thing, but it wasn’t something he was used to either.

The drive stretched on, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows over your face. He kept stealing glances, noticing how your fingers absentmindedly played with the edge of your sleeve or how your lips pressed together, like you were lost in thought.

Then there was a moment, a small one, but enough, when you turned your head, and your eyes caught his. He froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. For a second, neither of you looked away, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

But just as quickly as it happened, you looked away, turning your head back toward the window.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” he said, his voice a little lower, the words almost catching in his throat.

You hummed softly in response, shifting in your seat. “Just tired, I guess.”

He wanted to say something else, something that felt as big as the way he felt when you were near him, but all he could do was reach for the radio, settling on a low, mellow tune to fill the space.

The ride to your house felt too short for him but probably just right for you. He pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine, the sudden quiet making his pulse feel louder in his ears. You unbuckled your seatbelt but didn’t make a move to get out just yet.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you turned to look at him. Your eyes lingered on his face, and for a moment, Chris felt completely unraveled.

“Yeah,” he said, his hand brushing the back of his neck. “Ofc. You don’t even gotta ask.”

You leaned toward him then, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. He thought, hoped, you might kiss him, but instead, your lips pressed gently to his cheek.

The kiss was soft, lingering in a way that left him breathless. When you pulled back, your face was so close to his, and the smile you gave him was warm and just a little mischievous.

“Goodnight, Chris,” you whispered, your voice quiet but carrying a weight he couldn’t quite understand.

And before he could say or do anything, you opened the door and stepped out, your hair bouncing as you walked toward your front porch. Chris sat there for a long moment, one hand on the wheel, the other brushing against the spot on his cheek where your lips had been.

He watched you until the door closed behind you, then let out a long, shaky breath. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, somewhat disappointed.

@issysh3ll