A/N: Pleaser Read and Review! I don't have internet access often so that is why I haven't been updating, sorry!
Revelation
Steve and I never truly got along before. We tolerated each other as to not hurt Sodapop. He still managed to shoot me mean looks and tease me from time to time. I simply shrugged it off. So when I had to sit and wait with him while Soda flirted with yet another female customer or finished up a project before leaving work with us, I wasn't too thrilled.
"So, kid, how are you feeling?"
I looked up, astonished that he was talking to me without being forced to and that it wasn't some cutting remark.
"Okay." I replied with an edge of suspicion in my voice.
"Look kid, I know we don't talk and to be honest, I think you're pretty annoying most of the time, always getting into trouble and never using your head and –"
"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"
"Uh yeah, sorry. I just wanted to, I don't know, say that, well, I'm glad you're okay, you know, after everything."
"Thanks." I muttered, still apprehensive and secretly waiting for him to punch me in the shoulder and rub my head with his fist as he so frequently found pleasure in.
We sat together in silence for the next few lengthy minutes. I still waited for him to do something cruel and walk away laughing as I rolled my tongue in boredom. Glancing around awkwardly I began cracking my knuckles. Their shrill noises were the only sounds to be heard.
"Those kids that you saved," Steve suddenly remarked out of the quiet, "why'd you do it?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
Again there was silence. This time it was Steve's turn to be uncomfortable. He shuffled his feet against the ground and breathed out a heavy sigh that seemed to fight him as he came out.
"I wouldn't. I – I'd be too afraid."
I nearly choked on air at that statement.
"Steve Randle, afraid? No way. The same Steve who does back flips off of cars, takes on gangs of Socs with nothing but a broken bottle, who is the only one of us besides Dallas that would take that jump at the quarry last summer. The same guy who gets excited instead of nervous before a rumble?"
"What you did," he continued, disregarding my doubtful remarks, "took guts. More than most people. I wasn't kidding when I asked you how it felt to be a hero."
"Should I go get Soda?" I asked with a sarcastic grin. "I think you might be running a fever or something."
"Shut up and listen idiot. I ain't going to say this all again. You're lucky I'm saying this once. You did good, kid, you did real good. You're okay in my book."
"Thanks." I replied, still in slight shock.
"Now," he began, returning to his normal mocking tone, "this doesn't mean you can go on dates with me and your brother or hang around us all the time. I still think you're annoying."
"Gee. Thanks."
He paused, frowning. I examined him as he starred off into the distance, past the buildings in front of us and off somewhere in the corners of his mind. His eyes danced as his brain found its way around something. I watched as they gradually slowed their frantic pace and became glossy with trapped tears.
"We're not a gang anymore." He remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. "Three brothers and two friends isn't much of a gang."
"We never were a gang." I replied with a labored sigh. "Not really. Just a bunch of friends trying to survive this thing called life."
"Yeah," he replied solemnly, "what a bang up job we did."
