It's been forever and ever since I updated this. Actually, what I really want to do is go back and change Johnny's character a little bit so he's not quite as passive, cuz it's starting to really annoy me, but I figured I should put up another chapter first in case anyone is still reading. Sorry this took so long, hopefully I'll have more time this summer, but actually, it's starting to look more and more like I'll actually have less. But here's chapter seven, anyway, that should be worth something. I'm not particularly happy with it, but I'm afraid if I don't post it now, it'll never get posted. Thanks for reading, reviews are lovely, thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, and thanks to the person pointed out it was in the 60's, not the 50's. Except I feel a little stupid, but I suppose I'll get over it…

Chapter 7

Nobody said anything to either Dally or Johnny over the next few days, not even giving either of them a funny look, and Dally started to relax. Pony avoided both of them, but apparently he hadn't opened his mouth. Dally didn't know if it was his silent threat or some left over loyalty to Johnny that kept Pony quiet, but it didn't really matter. The fact was that the gang wasn't treating them any differently.

Pony, though, left rooms when either Dally or Johnny walked into them. He hadn't said a word to Johnny, not unless he had to. Dally kept catching the glances Pony meant for Johnny—angry, hurt, disgusted glares that Johnny wilted under. It made Dally want to shake Pony until he stopped treating Johnny like that; Johnny, who never tended to be particularly happy joyful even on a good day was now downright gloomy. He'd tried talking to Pony, Dally had heard them from the Curtis's living room, through the thin wall that separated the room from the kitchen.

"What were you doing?" Pony's voice. It wasn't a question—Pony knew perfectly well what they'd been doing and it pissed Dally off, unreasonably, that Pony couldn't just say 'why were you kissing him?'; that he had to phrase his accusation as a question.

There was a pause in which Dally could only assume that Johnny had shrugged, or maybe just done his staring at the floor trick, letting his hair hide his face. Maybe ashamed, or maybe just tired.

"You were kissing him!"

Another silence. Even if Johnny hadn't been looking at the floor before, Dally was pretty sure he would be by then.

"Why the hell were you kissing him?" Pony was getting louder, Dally could hear him clearly through the wall. He couldn't hear Johnny's reply, the other's boys voice was only a murmur in the face of Pony's anger. The tone sounded like 'I don't know', though, and there's wasn't that much else that Dally could imagine Johnny saying to that question, really.

"He didn't make you, did he?"

Dally only had a few seconds to wonder exactly what would happen to him if the rest of the gang thought that he tried to rape Johnny. Pony sounded horrified—it was obvious the thought had only just occurred to him. Then Johnny said "no," louder than anything else he'd said so far, and Dally had just enough time to relax before he started feeling ashamed that he didn't have faith that the other boy would tell the truth.

"You liked it then?"

There was another mutter, probably in the affirmative, because next Pony was saying "that's disgusting."

He didn't sound so much angry anymore as confused; his voice was softer, and then Johnny's voice was drowning his out, saying "I'm Sorry," over and over, "I'm sorry, please don't tell anyone." Over and over again, until there was the sound of footsteps and Pony rushed by, not looking at Dally, disappearing out the door.

Johnny wandered into the room a few minutes later, his arms wrapped around himself, his eyes red like he was going to start crying again.

"I don't think he'll say anything."

Dally nodded and Johnny didn't say anything else, joining the older boy on the couch and snuggling closer and closer until Dally lifted his arm and grabbed him into a hug, pulling the boy half onto his lap.

"We should get out of his house," Johnny said, making no move to get up. Dally nodded, but only pulled Johnny closer until the other boy relaxed and closed his eyes.

"What wouldja do if everyone found out, Dally?" Johnny asked a few minutes later. He sounded half asleep. "What if you had to leave? Where wouldja go?"

Dally shrugged, the movement jostling Johnny's head. "New York again, maybe. Anywhere. I can make it anywhere."

"I couldn't. I've only ever lived in Tulsa."

It was probably true. Dally kissed the top of Johnny's head, hair grease sticking to his lips. "Shucks, Johnny, sure ya could."

Johnny shook his head. "I'm barely making it here."

"This is Tulsa, though. You'd do fine someplace else. Besides, I'd take you with me."

"You would?"

"Yeah." He might not be able to take real good care of someone else, but the kid had survived this long, so he must have something of survival skills. He'd watched Johnny, and he wasn't so weak, not usually. Just something about Dally that made him want to be taken care of, apparently.

"Good." Johnny smiled and snuggled down, closing his eyes again. Dally sighed, not sure what he was getting himself into, but not unsure enough to push Johnny away.