"Through here, Mr Curtis."
Darrel entered the interrogation room. Inside was a table with two chairs on each side, the one closest to the door occupied by Sodapop Curtis.
Ignoring the boy in the chair for now Darrel took off his jeans jacket and dropped it over the back of the chair next to his brother before sitting down, waiting until the cop sat opposite to speak.
"What happened, Officer?"
The cop gave a weary sigh and shuffled some papers on the desk. Next to Darry, Sodapop shuffled uncomfortably. He was slouched in the chair, hands thrust into his jeans pockets. His head had come up when his big brother had entered, but when he couldn't catch Darry's eye he had slumped back down, glaring at his boots.
"Mr Curtis, your brother was engaged in an altercation with a gentleman by the name of Samuel Howard at approximately ten fifteen this morning," the cop started. "Do you know the victim?"
Victim? Darry shot a quick "what did you do?" glare at his brother but Soda kept his eyes firmly on his feet. "No, sir, I don't. Is he all right?" he replied, turning back to the officer. Not that he cared if it was some Soc but he had to at least pretend in front of the cop.
"The gentleman wasn't injured in the attack but his car was damaged," the cop said.
Darry squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to remain calm as the man continued. It had been a long-ass day. Scratch that, it had been a long-ass month of late nights and early mornings, social visits and parent-teacher meetings. His back ached from hauling tiles and his fingers, once only dirty from the mud of the track, were now calloused and blistered. He'd had a headache for the last week and his left foot was soaked thanks to a hole in a boot he was too damn poor to replace. He'd been called out of work early, meaning a dock in his wages if he didn't make up the time. He didn't need this kind of shit.
"I believe the incident began when your brother walked out in front of Mr Howard's car, causing him to enact an emergency stop," said the cop. "Your brother took exception to Mr Howard's warning shout, and threw a brick at his car as he was driving away, smashing the back windscreen."
Sodapop gave a muffled snort and grumbled something that sounded like "asshole", Darry and the cop ignored him.
"Now, Mr Howard has agreed not to press charges on condition the repairs are paid for and he receives a full apology from your brother."
"Hell no!" Soda snarled, his head jerking up. "I ain't apologising to that old bastard!"
Darry took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as his brother continued. Soda, the laid-back, happy Sodapop that he knew and loved was getting less and less familiar. Last night he'd even snapped at Ponyboy over something stupid. Seeing his youngest brother's face crumple had torn Darry's heart. He should have done something then, should have done more than bawling Soda out. This had to end now, before Soda did something worse.
"Sir, could you give me and my brother ten minutes alone, please?" he asked the cop calmly, making sure to fix the man with a polite but firm stare.
The cop raised a brow, contemplating the young man before him. Darry knew he didn't make the best impression, with his thrift-store clothes and his greaser hair, but he tried to look more competent and adult than he felt, sitting straight in his chair as the cop looked him over.
Making a decision the man nodded, getting to his feet. "I need to go sort some paperwork. I'll make sure you two aren't disturbed, Mr Curtis."
Darry thanked him politely, getting to his feet too.
When the cop was out of the room, Soda gave a loud snort. "Listen to that creep. Calling you Mr Curtis like you're dad or something." He shot his brother a sly grin which faded when he saw Darry's frown. "Ah, come on Dar drop the act, you're not really mad, are ya?"
"Is that what the problem is?" Darrel asked, leaning against the side wall, his arms folded. "That I'm not dad?"
"Huh?" Soda's mouth twisted into a confused pout. His hands slipped from his pockets to mirror Darry's, crossed protectively over his chest. "Of course you ain't dad. What's that got to do with anything?"
"Cause if our daddy were here instead of me, you wouldn't be acting like such a tuff hood," Darry said, his words a growl. "You wouldn't be cussing, or breaking shit, or being such a damn fool."
"Well he ain't here, is he, Dar?" Soda snarled. "He's dead."
It still twisted sickly in his stomach every time he heard those words. Darrel took another long breath, letting it out through clenched teeth. "Get up, Sodapop."
"Why? We leaving?" Soda asked, jumping up eagerly.
Darry shook his head, stepping toward his younger brother. "Not yet, we're not. Not until you wise up."
Before Soda could think to resist, Darrel had grabbed his upper arm and yanked him forward, pushing him down until his chest hit the table. Quickly he twisted his brother's arms until they were in the small of his back, grabbing each wrist in one hand and pushing down hard so that no matter how much his brother squirmed and fought he couldn't right himself. Soda wasn't that much smaller than him, but Darrel hadn't been a star sports jock for nothing, and the past few months working construction had given him strength that his younger brother couldn't hope to compete with.
"Darry, what the fuck?"
Darrel's free hand went to his belt, drawing it quickly through the loops.
At the sound, Soda began to struggle in earnest.
"Dar—no! You can't—you can't do this!"
"I can Sodapop, and I'm gonna," Darry said firmly. He doubled the belt over and swung it before he could chicken out. It landed with a loud crack right in the middle of Soda's backside and his brother gave a loud squawk of surprise.
"What the hell, Dar?!"
"Enough with the cussing, Sodapop," Darrel said, landing the belt down again, making sure to hit just a little higher. Soda yelped, his legs jerking up and then slamming back down onto the floor.
"I've had enough of your bad moods and your cussing," Darry informed him, the sound of the belt snapping down punctuating his sentences. "I've had enough of you acting like a punk. I know it's been a rough couple of months, but it's been rough for all of us. You keep pulling dumb stunts like this and the social services are going to take you and Pony away." He laid two more licks down. "We've got to stick together, Soda."
"You're not dad!" Soda hollered, his voice full of rage and humiliation. Darrel wasn't surprised. Aside from a few playful swats here and there Darrel had never raised his hand to either of his brothers. Their daddy had lit a fire in their tails now and then but he'd never needed to use a belt on the younger Curtis boys. Darry's own single experience with it had not been a pleasant memory; he'd been about Soda's age too…
"Yeah, I'm not," he ground out, trying to keep his voice steady. He hauled Soda further forward to lay into his sit-spots. "If mama and daddy were here they'd be ashamed of you, Sodapop Curtis."
Soda stopped struggling at that, his breath leaving him in a rush. Darrel took the chance and grabbed the waistband of his brother's jeans, pulling down hard until they slipped over his hips and down to his knees. Instead of fighting, Soda gave a defeated sob and tucked his chin to his chest, eyes scrunched closed as tears began to leak through the lashes.
Darrel let go of his brother's wrists to rub a comforting circle on his lower back. "It's okay Pepsi-Cola," he said gently, "just five more and we're done, okay?"
At the nickname Soda gave another, deeper sob. He shuddered and drew his arms forward, burying his face into them to muffle his tears.
Darrel kept his hand on his brother's back, the thumb rubbing comfort as he drew his arm back to swing. He'd decided on seventeen before he'd started; one for every year of his brother's life plus one to think on.
When the belt landed Soda gave a weak cry but didn't move. It was sure to be an almighty sting without the protection of his jeans but he didn't fight to get away as Darrel landed another lick. The skin that was visible round his boxers was a livid red. Darrel tried to lay the last licks in a way that wouldn't hit already tender skin, the last two landing in rapid fire over Soda's upper thighs.
While Soda cried Darrel put his belt back on, then laid a cautious hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Soda?" he asked hesitantly, feeling like the biggest heel there was.
Soda stood up shakily, sniffling and wiping his cheeks roughly on his sleeves. He refused to look at his big brother, bending down and pulling up his jeans with a groan as the rough fabric touched his ass.
Darrel bit his lips together and let his hand drop away. Of course Soda didn't want to talk to him right now. He probably hated him. Well, if he had to be hated to keep his family together then so be it. He'd whoop his brothers every day if he had to.
The air was knocked out of him with the force that Soda grabbed him. He wrapped his arms around his brother and held on tight, face buried in Darrel's chest. Surprised, it took a few moments before Darrel returned the hug, but when he did he held Soda tightly, one hand on the back of his head, chin resting on his younger brother's head. Tears of his own leaked out but he didn't move to wipe them away, holding Soda while the boy cried and whimpered into his t-shirt.
"It hurts Dar—"
"It's meant to, baby," Darrel sighed, planting a kiss on his brother's hair.
Soda gave a jerking shake of his head. "Naw, not the... not that," he whined.
Darrel's heart cleanched and he tightened his grip. "Yeah, I dig, Pepsi-Cola. Me and Pony, we're hurting too."
"I was just so mad," Soda continued, his voice wet and broken, "—so mad all the time... and sad... and—" he broke off on a sob, rubbing his face against Darrel's chest.
"I'm sorry Dar. I'm so sorry!"
"You're forgiven, little buddy," Darrel said. He cleared his throat, fighting to get his voice under control. "You know what you gotta do, though, yeah?"
Soda sniffed and nodded. He gave one last tight squeeze then stepped back out of their embrace, wiping his face with his sleeves and taking deep breaths to steady himself. Darrel swiped at his eyes too.
The brothers had composed themselves by the time there was a knock on the door and the police officer entered.
"Sorry to disturb you, boys."
"No problems, officer," Darrel said calmly, giving Soda a comforting smile and squeezing his shoulder. "We're done here."
oOo
They were in the car on the way home. The cop had driven them to Mr Howard's house where Sodapop had made a pretty decent apology. Thankfully, the man had agreed to let Soda fix the screen at the DX – including a free tune-up – in place of cash, so apart from a few extra shifts to cover the cost of parts, the Curtis house wouldn't be hurting much from the loss of money.
"Are you going to tell Ponyboy?" Soda asked cautiously, breaking the silence.
Darrel chuckled. "Nah, there's no need."
"What do you mean?" Soda asked suspiciouly.
"You think you're going to manage to hide your cherry ass from him him the next few days?" Darrel smirked.
"Dar!"
"Actually, hearing you got your tail busted might keep him from pulling any stupid stunts himself."
"Ain't no chance of that," Soda huffed, folding his arms and kicking the truck door grumpily. He winced, trying to get a better position on the seat that didn't send sparks up his spine.
Darrel simply chuckled and focused back on the road.