Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

Thanks to the other half of this penname for being awesome.

You're dying. Not literally, of course, but you think you could very well be drowning. You gasp through your tight chest as a sea of hands, tongues, and nails surround you, suffocate you, kill you.

And Christ, you love it.

Two-Bit's tongue is somewhere it shouldn't be and you wonder when you became so okay with this. Not just you-and-him this, but guys-being-with-other-guys this. Neither is right, neither is normal, but you don't care. You want it, you like it, you need it.

You're not ever going to give it up.

How could you? It feels so damn good and everyone else can go to hell because it makes you happy. It shouldn't, but it does. And that's that. After everything that's happened, you deserve a little happiness. You deserve this, and you're not going to let anyone end it for you. If that means keeping it in a locked chest that only you and Two-Bit have the key to, then so be it.

You only have three people left in the world, and there's no way you're letting go of any of them. You'll take everything you can get from them, and you're pretty sure they feel the same way. Maybe that's why this happened. Darry and Ponyboy are your brothers and you love them more than anything … except maybe this thing you have with Two-Bit.

You wonder if maybe that's why this thing started.

You, Darry, and Pony are as close as you can be; you're brothers, always will be. It was only natural for you and Two-Bit to become as close as you can be, too. You're pretty sure neither of you expected close to become … this, but you're beyond caring.

Because you deserve this.

Your parents are dead; have been for years now, but it still hurts. It's not surprising - they are your parents and they died far too young. When you think about it, they're probably the only people you'd give this thing with Two-Bit up for, but that can't happen. Because they're dead. You haven't had parents since you were sixteen; you deserve Two-Bit.

Sandy left you; you've convinced yourself you don't care anymore, but you sure did love her. It hurt like a bitch when she left. And then Johnny and Dallas died. Your parents, your girl, your buddies … how much could one guy take?

Apparently just that little bit more, though, because God didn't seem to give two shits about sending your buddy - your best fucking friend - away to war.

That had been it. Steve was gone. And who the fuck knows whether he's going to come back in his usual cloud of smoke and moodiness or in a goddamn wooden box? That and everything that went with it made you pull everything closer. It's why when Two-Bit became uncomfortable around you, you used it to your advantage.

Screw letting him get over whatever shit he was going through. You took what seemed to be a crush and turned it into more.

Two-Bit's tongue is doing that thing you love so much, and you see white. Your hips buck, your fingers dig into the sheets beneath you, and a strangled moan escapes you before your whole body dissolves into the kind of mess only Two-Bit can make.

He nips at your hip and you know he knows you like it. A mix of pleasure and pain shoots right up your spine, sending another shudder through you.

"Stop," you mutter, giving a half-assed push at his head.

He stops, but doesn't move away. Resting his head on your abdomen, he slides his hands under your lower back - you'd call it a hug if you didn't know any better - and nuzzles his nose into your stomach. You don't mind. You like it, really.

It's a few minutes before either of you say anything, and when Two-Bit finally speaks, you're not surprised by what he says, you're just surprised it's taken this long to happen.

"I'm gonna talk to Kathy tomorrow."

You're not surprised, but you're not exactly pleased either. It's not like you want anything official or exclusive - you had a date with that cute girl from the grocery store just last night - but you do want Two-Bit all to yourself.

The idea of Kathy - anyone - touching him, kissing him, running their hands through his hair the way you are sends a surge of possessiveness you've only experienced with Two-Bit coursing through you. You don't want him with anyone else - you don't want him to want anyone else.

Call it selfish, call it sinful, call it sicker than anything else in this messed-up world, but he's yours and you don't want to share him with anyone. Especially not Kathy. Because Kathy is your only real threat. She's the only one who could possibly take him away from you.

They might break up too often to be a real, functional couple, but she's the closest Two-Bit's ever gotten to a steady girlfriend and you hate her for that. You're not sure you've ever hated before, but anytime Two-Bit mentions her name - whether they're together at the time or not - you feel nothing but hatred for the poor girl who's really done nothing wrong.

"Whaddya you gonna talk to her about?" you ask, all the while feeling a strange urge to rip the girl's eyes out.

You smirk; that wouldn't do any good.

Two-Bit moves up the bed to lie next to you and you can feel him against you. It appears that what you consider mood-killing conversation hasn't killed his mood at all.

"See if she'll let me take her out." His head is resting next to yours and you know he's staring.

"Think she will?" It takes everything you have to not sound bitter, spit out the words, call her a whore.

She's a nice girl, really.

Two-Bit shrugs, shifting slightly and pressing against you. "She usually does."

You say nothing. It's true; Kathy always takes Two-Bit back eventually. It shouldn't worry you so much, really, because it never stops Two-Bit from coming to you. He always comes to you. You don't know why it's different for him, but somehow Kathy just isn't enough.

It makes you feel better. Kathy isn't enough and he dumps her just as often as she dumps him. But he never dumps you. He comes to you, he wants you. You know it's true, just as well as you know he needs you. You're like the goddamn blood that runs through his veins, and you shouldn't take such a sadistic pleasure in the powerful feeling it gives you, but you do.

He's yours. Unlike you, he still feels bad about what you're doing; you can see it just by looking at him. But like you, he wants this too much to let it stop. He's yours and it's going to stay that way because you deserve him.

Forgetting about your hatred for Kathy, you grin at Two-Bit and shift your hand lower, not missing the way his breath catches. You like that you can do this too him - it just adds to that powerful feeling. You started this, you talked him into it, and you practically fucking seduced him into touching you that first time.

He's been yours since, and you're never going to let him go.

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