Ponyboy
You wake up slow in his arms.
Just as you're starting to break through into consciousness, he kisses and soothes you back to sleep. You let this happen a few times before you stop giving in. You yawn and stretch and slowly open your eyes. Randy is lying next to you, smiling, and you're not convinced that you're actually awake. It seems like a good dream. A very, very good dream.
"Hey there, Rip Van Winkle," he says. "You have a good nap?"
"Hmmm," you hum in reply. You nuzzle his chest and close your eyes. You're suddenly not ready to wake up, not ready to leave, and you want to stay next to him in his bed forever.
You feel his laughter more than you hear it, and he gently kisses your forehead. "Still sleepy?"
"Am I even awake?" you reply.
"I've been asking myself the same thing."
"It's prudenter to dream."
"Dickinson?" he asks.
"God, you get me," you reply.
"You get me," he breathes.
And then his lips are on yours again. His kisses aren't desperate and needy like they were when you were making out earlier. These kisses are gentle and sweet. He's kissing you the way you'd kiss a lover; the way you'd kiss somebody you've known and trusted for your whole life. It's the way you remember your father kissing your mother.
You can't believe it. You can't believe that it's you. It's you that he's kissing like this. It's you that he has feelings for, and you that he's holding like his life depends on it. How did you manage to find a guy like him? How did you get so damn lucky?
He pulls back and presses his forehead against yours, and you instantly miss the warmth of his mouth. But even though he's not kissing you any more, his arms stay tight around you.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," you reply.
"You all right?"
"I am now."
He smiles and slightly shakes his head. "I don't believe this."
"You don't believe it?"
"Shut up. You're a catch and you know it."
You don't know where the sudden surge of courage comes from, but you don't question it, and you growl, "you shut up and kiss me."
He obliges. And, god, you don't think you'll ever get tired of the way his mouth tastes.
"What time is it?" you ask when you come up for air.
"Does it matter?" Randy whispers in your ear. Then he gives it a playful nip and starts kissing it, and what time it is doesn't matter any more. All that matters is him.
"I gotta … check on Darry," you manage. Randy is sucking on your neck now, and it's so hard to get the words out. And speaking isn't the only thing that's hard…
"He can wait a while longer," Randy says. His lips are barely brushing against yours, making you want more.
"Dunno. What time is it?"
Randy groans and rolls over to look at the clock. "It's eight-thirty. There, you happy?"
He doesn't wait for a response and goes right to attacking your mouth with kisses. You pull away and sigh heavily after a few minutes.
"I really should go."
He looks heartbroken. "I don't want you to."
Shit, Randy. Don't do this to me. "I don't want to either. I really, really don't."
He sighs heavily, pulls you close, and kisses your forehead. "But you've gotta, don't you?"
You reluctantly nod, and Randy kisses your forehead again.
"I'll drive you home."
XXX
He kills the headlights, shifts into neutral, and rolls up to the curb in front of your house. The lights inside the house are all off, and Darry's truck is in the driveway. Maybe you lucked out and he decided to turn in early.
Randy gives your hand a squeeze, and you turn to face him. He kisses you softly, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter as hard as ever.
"Wanna come in for a bit?" you ask. "Think Darry's already in bed."
He nods, and it looks enthusiastic. "Go see what's up. Let me know if it's safe."
You nod and climb out of the hippie bus and then start up the walkway to your house.
You quietly slip inside, making sure that the screen door doesn't slam behind you. You don't turn on any lights, choosing to wait a few minutes until your eyes adjust to the dark instead.
"Darry?" you say softly once your eyes have adjusted. "Darry?"
The couch and the armchair are both vacant. You creep into the kitchen, and then to the bathroom, and when both are empty, you ease the door to his bedroom open.
He's asleep, the covers gently rising and falling with his breaths. An empty tumbler sits on the nightstand, but he doesn't reek of liquor like he does after his worst nights. You figure that this is as good as it'll get. You're as safe as you can be.
You light some candles and an incense stick, pour two glasses of wine, and step out on the porch. You don't even have to motion toward the door; he gets the hint instantly.
XXX
He looks around and smirks once the two of you reach your bedroom.
"Candles? Wine? Christ, could you have made it more obvious that you're trying to seduce me?" he asks. But he keeps his voice low. He knows that waking Darry up is a very real possibility.
"Shut up," you reply. But you return the smirk. He sits down next to you on the bed; he's in the spot where Sodapop used to sleep.
The two of you sit next to each other in silence, sipping your wine, going in for gentle kisses, and jumping at every small sound that the house makes. You finally sigh and turn to him.
"When did you know?"
He shrugs. "Well, when I was five, I told my mom I thought girls were icky and asked if boys could marry other boys. Thought she'd beat me to death with the Bible. But I guess I never really outgrew that mindset. Can't remember ever bein' attracted to girls."
He drains his glass and cocks an eyebrow. "When did you?"
Before, you would've said that you didn't know. But tonight made things pretty damn clear. So you smirk and say, "today."
He laughs, pulls you close, and kisses you hard. You wish that it didn't have to end.
But it does, you look at each other, and sigh. You speak first.
"What're we gonna do, Randy?" you ask. "We can't exactly flaunt this. We can't kiss each other goodbye after class. Can't make out in the backyard of the hippie house. Can't hold hands at the movies. Can't…"
He cuts you off with a kiss. "I don't care," he says softly. "There's so much we can't do, but I don't care. We'll figure it out. Be together in secret like we did today. Act like we're just friends like we've been doing like we're in public. Shit, I don't care. I'm not losing you."
Your eyes tear up, and your heart flutters. You just want him to hold you and never let you go.
"I … I think that's the sweetest thing anybody's ever said to me."
He just smiles, kisses your forehead, and pulls you close.
"You still look sleepy, Pony," he says. "Get some rest."
His arms are warm and strong, and you feel safe lying next to him. You let yourself drift into a doze that turns into a deeper and deeper sleep.
You sleep through your alarm in the morning, missing your class, and the spot next to you is cold and empty when you wake up. But he's left you his jacket.
You shut off your alarm, wrap yourself up in his jacket, and deeply breathe in his scent. Sleep overtakes you again, and your dreams are filled with images of him.
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