A/N: Making another Outsiders fanfiction. I freaking love the idea of Darry x Sodapop x Ponyboy. . .
Anyways. This will be an angsty fic, but also a romantic thing. :D
Just in case you were wondering, the thing with Dally and Johnny did happen. The only part I didn't put in here was there deaths. So, they are both alive. Johnny almost died.
Adding on, I update slowly. It takes me a while to transport from chapter to chapter, so please bare with me!
I will try to make my chapters long and well-thought out, but, like said above, it's hard for me to maneuver chapters to the next. I usually go over the chapters once, twice, maybe a third time if I want to be really sure.
If I don't update within a year or two, trust me! I haven't disappeared on you, lovelies! Sometimes it can take me that long to actually update a story, and/or I have difficulties revolving around my personal/family life. :)
Okay, going on, this story is Rated M for a reason. Despite that being shown already, I might as well let you know in the A/N!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders nor it's characters within it.
So, now that the main stuff's out of the way, why don't we start this off?
Chapter 1.
"Sodapop," I say, softly. He grunts in response; I probably woke him up right when he was dozin' off. Oh well. If I don't get this past my lips, I won't be able to sleep.
"Have ya ever been in," I gulp, "in love?" Almost instantly, he flips over to his side, so then he's facin' me. His eyes find my gray-green ones, where he proceeds to stare into intently.
"What're ya tryin' to say, Pone?" he mumbles, ending the sentence with a short yawn.
Shrugging loosely, I reply quickly, "Nothin'. I was just wonderin', ya know? When did ya have you're first kiss?"
My older brother pauses, tugging me close carefully. His arms rest a little lazily around my waist. I look away; my cheeks flare up, and I just know it. I can't let him see, though, and I just hope that it's too dark and he's just too sleepy for him to notice.
"Well," he hums softly, resting his chin against my head, "I was 'round you're age, I think."
"Have ya," I struggle to find the right words, leaning back into his chest, ".. Have ya been in love with two different people before?"
"Now, Pony," Soda slowly starts, closin' his eyes and bringing a single hand to lazily brush through my dark-red hair. Which, did not make me blush, mind you.
Leaning in a little closer, just so I can feel a hint of his breath upon my bottom lip, I murmur, "Yeah?"
"Is there any particular reason you're askin' me these specific questions?"
"Nope," I reply, leaning back slightly, just so I can watch his eyelids flutter gently, "I'm just curious, ya know."
"Then, no, I have not." With this, he tugs me closer than before, where my cheek is resting against his chest. "Now, Pone, let me sleep. I have work tomorrow and you have school."
My cheeks warm up now; they're on fire. I can't tell if they're numb or if it's painful to have this much of a blush. "'Kay," I whisper, placing a small, lazy kiss against his chest.
He chuckles softly, hands rubbing my back soothingly. "Love ya, Honey."
"I love ya, too," is my reply not even 5 seconds after. If only you knew how much, I added to my mind.
He places one last kiss upon my hair before he falls into a quiet sleep, me following shortly after.
"Ponyboy," Darry yells, bangin' on the door, "Wake up! Two-bit's drivin' ya to school this mornin'!"
I open my eyes slowly, finding out that Sodapop wasn't by me. Why did I expect him to? He's never beside me in the mornings. Sitting up, I yell back, "'Kay! I'm gettin' up!"
After slowly crawling out from underneath the warm covers and out of the warm bed, I go to my closet to grab my regular outfit; just a pair of jeans, my worn out shoes, a black shirt, and my jacket. It was Dally's about 3 years ago, but he gave it to me, shortly after we had to run to the Church for a week.
After greasin' my hair real good, I walk down into the kitchen, hopin' for some chocolate cake. I do get some, which I happily eat with a plastic fork.
"Mornin', Pony," Sodapop greets from the table shortly after I placed my dishes in the sink. "Ya have some chocolate on your cheek there."
Blushing lightly, I try to rub it off with the palm of my hand. Sodapop chuckles softly, setting the newspaper aside and walking up to me. He licks the pad of his thumb, drawing it across my cheek a couple of times.
"There ya go," he says, satisfied, "Now, we gotta get to school. Two-bit will be here soon. Not a minute after he's in the drive-way, you hop in there. Ya here?"
"Yeah," I reply, cheeks slightly warm. This makes Sodapop a little concern.
"Are ya okay, Ponyboy? Ya look a little sick. A little pinkish."
I shake my head, smiling. "Nah, Soda, 'm fine. Don't worry 'bout me."
Hesitating, he presses his wrist to my forehead, before shaking his head. "Yeah, ya don't seem too hot. A little warm, maybe."
"Sodapop," Darry says, loud, "we gotta go."
The said person nods, patting my shoulder before leaving. Darry shuts the screen door tightly, and I'm left with my backpack waiting for Two-bit. Soon, Two-bit does show up.
Boy, for once, I think I'm a little afraid of going to school today.
A little while ago, rumors were spread around the school 'bout me from some Soc probably; that I was gay. Now, I certainly won't deny it, but not in front of everyone. They'll hate me, 'specially the gang. They'll be disgusted in me, and then I won't know what to do with myself.
Feeling a little queasy, I grasp my worn-out bag from the couch, open the screen door, and leave shortly after it was shut and locked tightly behind me.
After getting in the passenger seat and throwing my bag in the back, I nod to Two-bit. He smirks a little.
"So, Pony," he says in his deep, wild voice, "How was your mornin'?" He backs out of the driveway while talking, hand on the steering will carefully.
"Good," I reply, staring out the window with a bored expression, "I wish I got more sleep, though."
This wrings a chuckle out of the male as he drives out on the road. "Did somethin' keep your ass up or what?"
"Nah," I lie through my teeth. "Nothin' important, anyways."
"'Nothin' important'," Two-bit says, shaking his head, "You'd think it was important if it kept ya up all night. What's on ya mind, little horse?"
"Don't call me that," I start out, eyebrows furrowing slightly, "And, none of your business." Hesitating, but I don't know why I do so, I murmur under my breath, "Two-bitch."
"What did ya just call me?" the said male says after a few moments of snickering, a smile tugging at his lips. He pushes on the brakes at a stop light, making him have the ease of being able to look at me.
"Two-bitch," I reply, loudly, looking at him with mischief twinkling in my eyes, "Whatcha' gonna do 'bout it?"
He responds with waggling his fingers around slightly. And, oh, I know what he's going to do; and I can't escape.
His fingers find my sides, leaving me a laughing mess. I curl up, the seat belt arguing with me as I arch my back. Two-bit has no mercy up until the person behind him honks.
He chuckles softly before pulling away, hands back on the steering wheel, and we're back on the road again. Shouldn't take more than 5 minutes to get to school.
Me, still wheezing for breath, I shake my head. "You're no fair."
"How?" the male instantly demands, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
"I can't just jump out," I murmur, smiling at him.
"Sure ya can," he says, a smirk finally blooming to show, "Just unlock the door; it ain't that hard."
Without anymore talks, we arrive at the school.
"Alright, ya little horse," he says, "Get outta' my car."
And I do so, jumping out with ease and grabbing my backpack. Here it comes.
Once I enter the gate, and into the classroom, I'm instantly assaulted by eyes staring at me.
Sitting down in my usual seat, I try to ignore the Soc behind me, who constantly kicks at the back of my chair obnoxiously.
"So, Fag," he sneers lightly. I cringe, "Didja' tell you're gang yet?"
I ignore as my eyes rest on the teacher, who is currently talking about who knows what.
"Hey, Fag," he sneers, just a little louder and rougher, "Didn't ya hear me? People like you," a harsh kick, "shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as me."
When did the topics change so quick? Socs were dumb; I just didn't understand them. They're rich little bastards who throw parties too much, and who think that beating up Greasers is fun and games.
So, deciding to ignore him some more, I jot down a few notes that the teacher gestured briefly to on the chalk board.
"Faggot," he suddenly snarls, "When didja' think you can-"
"Ponyboy Curits," the teacher says in a tight voice, "And Matthew Thomas. Care telling the whole class what you're talking about?"
I keep my mouth in a firm line, refusing to say anything. The Soc chuckles a little, looking over at the teacher.
"No," he says, slowly. With a smirk my way, I know I'm in big trouble.
Oh, how I hated my life.
And that's how it always went. It was always that first "Hey, Fag!" that brought my day down. I felt my chest caving in whenever I went to school, and I knew I was acting like a girl. That's how Two-bit would've put it.
I shouldn't be so sensitive about it, because no one really knows that it's true. It's just rumors.
So, why do I feel so bad? Anxiety would settle in my stomach, and I would try to make myself throw up in the stalls just to find a way to get back home. To be safe from all of this.
It seems that I was never man to do it, though. I couldn't make myself throw up for some odd, unknown reason. Exactly. I act just like a girl.
I was late for school today; some Socs were in the hallways decided to beat me up real good; smashed my head against the wall a couple of times. It's not like I had worse, but I hadn't felt this much pain in a while.
I was just walking, desperate to get to my class, when one of them tripped me. He smirked largely and spat on my shirt. I trembled 'cause I was afraid. Then, he would hiss something like, "Hey, Fag, what are you doing back at school? Don't ya know no one wants you here?" And then I would feel the self-loathing crashing on me like a tidal wave.
I wouldn't say anything; too afraid to. 'Cause if I said one word, I could get my teeth smashed in. If I did somethin' wrong, they would beat me to hell and back.
So, I let 'em kick my ribs until they either bruise or crack, I let 'em smash my face against the hard concrete enough to surely leave a concussion. I let 'em do this because I deserved it.
Fags shouldn't exist; just as what they said. No one ever really wanted me there. The teachers were happy that I got good grades, but it was nothin' past the student and teacher bond. And, to add on top of it, I'm in love with my two older brothers.
Now, I'm even more disgusting than the Socs.
When I went home, Darry just about screamed at me about how late it was. And then started cooin' at my wounds, strong, yet gentle, hands caressing my bruised face. Soda stared in shock; then got up swiftly, headin' for the first-aid kit, I'm presumin'.
"How'd this happen, Pony?" Darry asks me in a low voice, that I love so much. I hold back a shudder as I look up at him. He still stares down at me with his hard, blue-grey eyes, nothing but coldness flittering across them.
"Socs," I manage to murmur, leaning into his chest a little when he allows me to.
Soda hopped onto the couch, pattin' the seat next to him. "Well, they sure banged ya up real good, Pony. Any reason to why they did it?"
Slipping myself out of Darry's grasp, I limp over to the couch to sit down in front of Soda. "Nah." I have a great power to lie; no one will be able to tell that I was.
"Socs will be Socs," my oldest brother mumbles, turning around to grasp the newspaper upon the desk. "Pony, you shoulda' been real careful. Ya know how it is 'round here."
My second-to-oldest brother makes a soft noise of agreement. "Pone, where else did they get ya?"
"Stomach," I mumble, looking away. "I'm gonna have to take my shirt off, ain't I?"
"Yep," both older brothers says at the same time, not even bothered by it. And, why would they? It's just their baby brother takin' off his shirt; not that it matters to them in any way, shape, or form. Not that they love me the way I love them.
I do what they want me to do, throwin' off my shirt with slight difficulty. When I raised my arms a little, it sent a sharp pain down my side which made me suck in a breath real quick. That got Darry's and Soda's attention instantly.
As Soda quickly applies the alcohol to my open wounds, he begins to bandage them. I hold back winces, hold back tears.
"Soda?" I murmur, softly. He looks up almost instantly, with his beautiful eyes waiting patiently.
"Yes, Honey?" he asks sweetly, hand resting on my shoulder.
"Do I have to go to school 'morrow?" I question weakly.
".. That's up to your older brother," he responds. "Why? Did this happen at school?"
"No," I say, quickly. Too fast. I wheeze lightly, clutching onto my bandaged side. Soda slaps my hand away gently, massaging my side with great care.
"It's just," I struggle to continue, "See? Even if I talk fast, it hurts."
My movie-star brother looks at me real good before callin' out to Darry, "Hey, Pone wants to know if he can skip school tomorrow."
"Not like that," I protest weakly, "Just to not .. not be there. 'Cause of the injuries."
Darry looks up from the newspaper, eyes gliding over to me easily, taking my fragile body in with his eyes. After starin' at me for a good two seconds, he says slowly, "Yeah, he can, I guess." Shifting a little uncomfortably, he says, "I don't have work tomorrow, ya know that, Soda? Ya gotta wake up."
"Why don't ya have work tomorrow?" I pressure my oldest brother lightly, curiosity fluttering across my features for sure. "Don't ya have work every week day?"
"I do," he agrees, "But, they decided to give me a break."
I decide not to push it, shuffling lightly within the couch. I yawn softly, which caught both brother's attention.
"You're tired," my oldest brother says with softness lacing through his words, "C'mon, little horse." I grumble quietly at the nickname, trying not to blush when Darry hoists me up in his arms, bridal style.
This seems to fail me, though; my body simply rejects me, leaving me limp and quiet in his arms. My cheeks are on fire; surely a deep pink by now. I press my face against his neck casually, listening and feeling his pulse against my temple.
"Christ, Pone," he murmurs, "You're burnin' up." He opens the door to my room, turnin' on the little run-down fan we've always had. He sets me off to the side, tucks in the covers real good before pickin' me back up and lying me down onto my bed.
He stares down at me, unusual softness lingering in his eyes and facial appearance in general. "I want ya to have a good night's sleep, all right?" he whispers to me, hand gently holding my bruised cheek. I nod carefully, before he lets go.
"Night, Pony."
"Wait, Darry," I say quickly, struggling to sit up.
"What is it, Pone?" he asks quickly.
".. Can you sleep with me 'nd Soda tonight? But on my side?"
A/N: Goddamn, that took me way too long! Anyways, hopefully you enjoyed this first chapter. I will positively make more chapters for this; very excited to see how other readers like it, and how it turns out in general!
As said before, I do not own the Outsiders. (If I did, I would probably turn them all into that one gay group that fucks each other.)
Oooh, new one-shot idea. Huehuehuehue. ;)
Anyways! I will be working on the next chapter everyday! Thank you for reading, it brings joy to my little world.
It would also be great if you were to review! It just melts my heart seeing other people posting positive stuff on my stories and/or suggestions.
Have a great day/night, you lovely human being!