I'm taking a slight break from my other full-length story, Dumped, because my fabulous best friend and the movie Brothers inspired me to write a Vietnam fic about Steve. Don't worry, though, if you read my other story. It's not getting dropped. I'll probably update it soon, actually. (:

As mentioned, this fic is briefly based upon the movie Brothers. I saw a part of it, and I thought it was beautifully made, yet a tragic concept that could be translated into a fan fiction. This story is not going to follow its exact plot, though. As I said, I only saw a little bit of the movie, so this fic may contain some of the parts of it that I actually saw. And there's no plagiarism intended, of course. :]

So, you know the drill, kindly read and review. And I do not own The Outsiders.

Setting: Tulsa, 1969. The only time the setting will actually be presently set in Vietnam is during flashbacks/dreams. Steve is coming home from the war after a few weeks of imprisonment. I will explore his time in captivity more as the story progresses. Soda, who had also been captured and held in the same camp as Steve, has been killed.

Rating: For now, it's T, although it may change to M, depending on where the story leads to.

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The Curtis household. God, Steve hadn't been all too sure he'd see this place in visible site ever again. And now, having it stand only feet away from him, towering above his frame, he didn't know what to think. There was a distinct bitterness clouding the relief that he'd expected himself to feel. So for a while, Steve just stood there, staring at the place. Finally, realizing that his friends and girlfriend had been expecting him for days, he took a hesitant step towards the front door. What would they think, especially Darry and Ponyboy, seeing him…standing in the midst of their living room? Would they be cheerful, maybe, to be sure he was alive, or disgusted…because he wasn't Sodapop? Steve was afraid, almost petrified, to witness their expressions. Nevertheless, he forced his dreary assumptions away, standing at the very foot of the front door. He knocked lightly on the wooden pane, although he knew he was already welcomed, and then entered completely.

The entire gang—well, the entire living gang, being only Darry, Ponyboy, and Two-Bit, froze and stared at him in awe as he set his suitcase down on the carpeted floor. Steve, despite his current outlook from the poison that was the war, smiled a hardly audible little grin. It was a rare day when Two-Bit was speechless, at least, from what he could remember about his old buddy. It'd been nearly two years since he'd existed in Tulsa.

"Steve—oh God—Steve!" Evie was the first to speak. She was there, too, which didn't surprise Steve in the slightest. He remembered the last words she'd spoken to him: "Steve Randle—" she'd cried, tears protruding town her face, "you'd better come back, d'you hear me? And I don't mean in pieces, neither."

Abruptly, fragile hands were secured tightly around Steve's waist, caressing it gently while still managing to choke the life out of him. Steve scoffed to make his girlfriend aware of this, and she released. He had to look away once Evie matched his eyes. Liquid was pouring from hers, and he could hardly take it. "Jesus, Steve—I didn't think I'd see you again…." Evie wiped her sleeve along her face, clearing away some of the wetness, before embracing Steve in a second bone-crushing hug, as if ignorant of his recent complaint.

Steve touched Evie's face gently with the back of his hand once she pulled away. She was smiling and chewing so hard on her lip that it nearly bled. She seemed expectant, so Steve murmured, "Yeah, baby, I missed you too," which pulsed another wave of joyful sobs through her body.

Evie's greeting expired, so she placed herself on the couch. Steve was now focused wholly on the gang, or what was left of it. Darry was at the border of the pack, followed by Two-Bit behind him, and Ponyboy at the very rear. They all seemed at a loss for words, even Two-Bit (which still shocked Steve), but eventually, Darry spoke up.

"Steve…" He was the first, besides his girlfriend, to hug him. If Evie's embrace was overwhelming, it was nothing compared to Darry's. He just about killed him in a chokehold. But Steve didn't struggle away, because, for the same reason he'd allowed Evie to encase him in a second cuddle, he'd missed Superman just as much as he had every other gang member. In fact, Steve almost wished that Darry would punch him in the jaw just as he did oh-so-many years ago when he'd insulted him, just to support the realization that he was actually home and this wasn't all an illusion. All brawn and no brains. If Steve recalled correctly, that had been the offense that had sent him sprawling into a world of pain.

Darry's grip loosened, and Steve was free to breath easily once more. Steve mumbled a short, "Thanks, Superman," which caused a single droplet to drip down Darry's cheek. Steve almost broke down himself. He hadn't expected Darry, of all his buddies, to cry over him.

The second greaser to hug Steve was Two-Bit. He had regained that familiar goofy smile on his face, but still refused to utter anything verbally. Steve was relieved, though. Silence was the only factor that he, at this very moment, was interested in.

Steve looked to Ponyboy as Two-Bit shuffled away from him. Ponyboy shifted uncomfortably beneath the older boy's gaze and glared away from him. Steve titled his head indecisively at his gesture. His memory served him well enough, and it was nagging him of the countless times he'd dubbed Ponyboy a "tagalong". Soda's shadow, even. But before Steve had left for Nam, he'd gained a strangling hug from Ponyboy. Hadn't that rebound all severed ties between them?

"Ponyboy…" Darry looked at Pony piercingly, but he only shook his head and glanced at the hallway to his left. Then, treating it as an escape route, he sprinted towards it, and Steve heard a bedroom door slam audibly from the upstairs of the Curtis home.

"Sorry…" Darry and Two-Bit exchanged looks. "You know, Soda and Pony…" Darry's explanation deleted itself. There was no need for him to complete his sentence. Steve knew exactly what he was trying to say just from those dumpy few words.

"Yeah…" Steve exhaled. Now his eyes were on the hall.

"Did you…did you want to come into the kitchen?" Darry suggested. "We, uhh, got a cake…."

"No." Steve didn't feel much guilt from declining, as he'd expected himself to. He was just so tired and sore and aged from the war, eating cake didn't feel like the appropriate celebration to attend. "I wanna go to sleep."

Darry nodded understandingly and gestured towards the hallway, as if Steve didn't recall his way around the house. "Take my room. I didn't think you'd want Soda's old one…." He gnawed on his lower lip, and Steve trudged towards the hall. Evie followed after him, but he waved his hand at her. "I gotta be alone for now," he said simply. Evie grinned a vinegary smile and nodded, looking somewhat dejected. Steve ignored her response, figuring she'd comprehend his current state well enough, and let himself into Darry's room. It had been cleaned out of all Darry's articles of clothing, and the comforter on the bed wafted lightly of laundry detergent. Steve placed his belongings down on the ground and took a seat on Darry's bed.

Steve could hear Two-Bit's obnoxious tone echoing from the downstairs, mentioning something about cake, which was followed by Darry's voice hissing: "Not without Steve…."

The brief conversation made Steve wonder why they'd ordered a cake—and for him. What exactly was there to celebrate? His arrival home? That wasn't an accomplishment. Not for Steve, it wasn't. It shouldn't have been him that had come home—it should've been Soda. Because nothing bad was supposed to happen to Sodapop. Especially not because of Steve's doing.

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So, liked it? Hated it? Review, critique, and flame as you must. [: