A/N: hello my fellow Outsiders fans! This is the first chapter of my story "Plain and Simple". Plain and Simple is based on the Outsiders Episode "Maybe Baby", I have changed a few things up a little to better fit my story, if you haven't watched the Outsiders tv series (12 episodes I think) your missing out, you can find them on You Tube.

I am writing this story because I really feel that there isn't enough Two-Bit stories on here and Two-Bit is my favorite character.

This story is unbetaed, if you see anything that I need to fix please PM me or leave it in a review! However, since this is told from Two-Bit's POV some grammar errors are meant to be there.

I hope you enjoy my story, sorry for the long note.

Please Follow/Favorite/Review, it would mean the world to me!

bye for now,

Ms Sassy

disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders, and I'm not making any money off this.

"Tell Michael I'm sorry I jumped it, anyone who likes Sour Onion can't be all wrong."

"Well maybe you could come by the house some time, tell him yourself."

"Yeah, maybe."

It had been two months since I had that conversation with my father, the man who had left me, Ma and my kid sister Sarah when I was nine. The man I had hated with a passion for eight years. The man, the alcoholic, I was so afraid of becoming.

The man who had turned his life around, gotten married and had a son, Michael, my brother.

All this time, all these years that I have had to be the man of the house, that my mom has had to work two jobs just to keep us fed. All these years that we have struggled and he has lived only a few towns away, worked a nice steady job in his nice office, his family has lived in a big beautiful house, and his son, Michael, my brother, when to a big fancy school.

Not once has he came to check on us, not once has he sent us any money.

I thought he was long gone, in some other state, maybe even dead for all I knew.

You can imagine my surprise when I'm walking down the streets of Long Ridge and there he is.

After a series of interesting events, including me slashing his tires and is eating chili burgers in his fancy smancy office, I got to know the new Carroll Matthews, he's not so bad, though I still haven't quite forgiven him for what he did to us.

I never did take him up on his offer to stop by and meet Michael. I've thought about it a few times but the bus fair is a killer and Steve and Soda are still trying to figure out what's wrong with my car.

But today was different. I was board, extremely board really. The gang, or what's left of us after... after Johnny and Dally died, had all been busy. Darry was working his tail off, as usual, Ponyboy was at school, and the DX was so busy the Steve and Soda didn't have any time to goof off.

So I took the bus down to Long Ridge.

But when I stepped off that bus, it was like I had walked right into a brick wall. I started thinking, what if he didn't like me? What if he's a stuck up Soc?

I figured the best way to handle this was to get me some liquid courage.

So I did. I walked myself down to the liquor store and got an old bum to buy me a six pack so long as I gave him a bottle in return. Then I took my five bottles of beer into an alley and drank them one by one.

Or at least I tried. I only got three down when they jumped me.

They was hoods just like me. Pony likes to think I'm just a regular greaser like the rest of the gang, that Dally and the Shepherds were the only hoods he really knew. But truth is, I'm a hood too.

I'm just no good, plain and simple. That's what Ma said when Tim Shepherd brought me back home after he bailed me outta jail for slashing Carroll's tires.

Oh I know she didn't really mean it, I know she loves me. But it still hurt, you know?

Anyway, back to my story.

There I was, setting in that alley, minding my own business, just finishing my third bottle of beer when up walks this gang of hoods.

I shoulda known better then to put myself in a place I could be easily corralled, Darry would say I wasn't using my head, the end of the alley was fenced in by a chain link fence.

The walked slowly and casually down the open end of the alley, there where six of them, all dressed in leather jackets with so much grease in their hair it was practically dripping off, properly blocking my only exit.

I stood slowly, snapping the collar of my leather jacket up so I looked more tuff. I pulled my switchblade out of my back pocket, holding it low and close to my waist as I flipped it open, glaring at them intimidatingly.

I might not be no Dallas Winston, but I can be pretty intimidating when I set my mind to it.

They slowly advanced toward me, flicking out their own switchblades.

Now in not gonna lie, I was staring to get worried. I mean, here I am in some back water town, no one knows I'm here, and I'm fixing to get jumped by six hoods. I'm a pretty good fighter, but there's no way I can hold off all six of these guys.

"Well, well, well. Lookie what we got here boys. It's Micky Mouse." It was the one in the middle speaking, obviously their leader.

I didn't bother glancing down, I knew I was wearing one of my Micky shirts. It's not my fault Micky is awesome! Some punks just don't get it. Though, had I known I would be trying to intimidate my way out of a fight I would have probably picked a different shirt, or at least zipped up my jacket. Oh well.

"What do you want?" I asked in a low, mincing voice.

The leader chuckled darkly before answering, "your not from around here are ya." It was more of a statement rather then a question.

I continued to glare coldly at him.

"Well if you don't wanna be friendly there's nothing we can do about that, is there boys?" A choirs of no's and nope's came from the five other hoods.

"No-siry-bob, nothing we can do bout that. 'Cept teach this punk a lesson, show him boys." The leader motioned.

The five others put their switchblades up and started in on me.

I figured this would be my only chance at escape, so quick as a flash I turned and ran for the fence, taking a running leap and latching onto it for dear life, my feet quickly finding a perch. I climbed as fast as I could and was almost to the top when something, or rather someone, grabbed my foot and yanked me down.

My switchblade flew out of my hand when I landed hard on my back, the breath knocked out of me and the edges of my vision fading black. But I had to get up, I knew that if they got me down it would the end for me.

I was quickly back on my feet and started swinging my fists, connecting with the jaw of the guy who had pulled me down. He was down and out like a light as I turned to my next attacker.

I slammed my fist into his stomach and hit him upside the head on his temple as he doubled over. I continued swinging madly as the other four hoods over powered me. And though I fought my best to keep them off me, someone landed a lucky blow that hit me smack on the jaw and I crumpled to my knees. They were on me in an instant, kicking and punching my brains out. I tried to stand back up but ended up curled into a ball on the ground as they delivered kick after kick to my back and head. To my credit, I didn't utter a sound.

They finally must have gotten board because next thing I knee someone was turning me over and checking my pockets. I was too out of it to stop them so they emptied my pockets and cleared out.

Injury assessment time. Whoopee! You see the sarcasm there, right?

I lifted my head only to slowly easy it back down to rest on the ground with a groan as bolts of pain shot through my skull.

After waiting for the pain to subside to a more reasonable level, I tried once more.

Gritting my teeth and squinting against the fresh pain that rippled through my whole body, I eased myself into a setting position.

I gasped for air quite painfully, as my ribs protested any movement whatsoever and gingerly eased my back against the wall, letting out something between a groan and a whimper as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back.

"Hey, are you okay,"

I jumped and let out a surprised and painful yelp, much to my humiliation.

There in front of me was a boy, younger then me, maybe fifteen. For I second I thought he was one of the hoods came back to finish me off, but one look at the kid and I knew he wasn't no hood. He wasn't even a greaser, that was easy to tell because his hair didn't have any grease in it.

"It's okay, I-I won't hurt you," the kid looked scared himself, like he expected me to jump him or something.

I snorted and smirked, but my smirk quickly turned to a grimace as my damaged ribs made their presence known once more.

"Your hurt, let me take you to the hospital," he offered.

"No, no hospitals." Hospitals give me the willies.

"Well... Well then let me take you to my house, I'm sure my mom can fix you up, she's a nurse," the kid was practically begging, why did he care so much any way? Ain't he ever seen a greaser get beat up?

"Sure kid, sure," I had to accept really, I knew I couldn't make it all the way back to the Curtis's, they probably wouldn't even let me on the bus looking like this.

"Here, let me help you up," the kid said as he stood up and offered his hand.

I studied him for a moment, took in his fluffy, ungreased, brown hair, his grey eyes, his well fed, stout build. I finally accepted his hand, biting back a groan as he hauled me to my feet. I'm sure my face paled quite drastically as the ground started to buckle and the buildings around me started to duck and wave.

"It's only three blocks, do you think you can make it?"

I groaned and gave a slight nod, glad that the ground had decided it didn't hate me any more, however things were still a little blurry.

"My knife," I said through gritted teeth as I turned toward the fence, using the wall for support. There was no was I was going to leave that knife. It had taken me forever to get it back after the police had taken it off Dally, not to mention the two hours I had to wait in that store before I got it.

"What?" The kid looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

"Gotta get my knife." My voice was slurred and things were starting to bob and weave again.

I slumped against the wall and shut my eyes tightly in hopes to stop my stomach from flip flopping.

"I'll, I'll get it for you," the poor boy still sounded nervous.

I opened my eyes to watch him as he looked around on the ground.

"This it?" He asked as he held up my black switchblade.

I nodded, and promptly wished I hadn't as I felt my lunch coming back up.

Grabbing hold of the chain link fence and sinking to my knees, I emptied my stomach, feeling utterly embarrassed that some kid I didn't even know was seeing me like this. It wouldn't have been as bad if it were one of the gang, they have seen me beat up or hungover, and sometimes both, plenty of times. But for it to be some literally off the street stranger? Today's just not my day, plain and simple.

"Are, um... Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" I snapped over my shoulder after wiping my mouth, "sorry, lets just go," I said as I stood slowly and turned back toward him, swaying slightly.

"Here, let me help you," the kid said awkwardly as he stepped closer. I let him take my arm and drape it over his shoulder, he put and arm around my waist and I leaned most of my weight on him.

What was I doing? Why was I trusting him? The answer to those questions: I have no idea. But what other choice did I have?

I rolled these thoughts over in my mind, trying to block out the pain, as we slowly made our way down the sidewalk.

"Here we are," I was snapped out of my thoughts as the kid stopped us in front of a brick house with red doors.

We continued up the walk way and he stopped in front of the door to pull a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door an helped me in.

"Michael, is that you?" I knew that voice! That's Carroll! What's he doing here? Michael? Does that mean...

I turned to look at the boy who had been helping me, realizing for the first time that he never told me his name, and if his name was Michael... And Carroll was here... Does that mean that this kid is Michael, my brother Michael?

"Yeah it's me dad. Is mom home? I have a friend here who needs some help," I groaned as the kid, Michael, practically yelled in my ear.

"Sorry," he said with a small grimace.

"What was that about someone needing help?" Carroll asked worriedly as he rounded the corner to come into the living room, which is where we were standing.

"Michael who is-... Two-Bit?" Carroll stopped in his tracks, a shocked look on his face.

"The one and only," I say with a forced smile.

"Get him over to the couch, Michael," he directed as he snapped out of his shock.

Michael helped me over to the couch, "you know him?" He asked Carroll.

I groaned as I lowered myself down onto the couch.

"Yes... Michael, this is... this your bother, Keith," Carroll told his son awkwardly.

Michael looked from Carroll to me with wide eyes.

"It's Two-Bit, actually," I said through clinched teeth.