DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

Soda let the screen door bang hard and fell down on to the couch to take off his shoes, aiming them at Steve as he bounded through the door after him.

Two-Bit leaned over and pulled Soda roughly off the sofa, by his legs, grinning like a maniac. Soda pulled at him by the waist and twisted him round, pushing down hard on his chest. "You can't beat me – I'm the frigging prizefighting champion of the-"

Soda yelped as Steve's arm pulled back on his neck and dragged him to the floor, while Two-Bit grabbed his legs. Soda pushed hard and twisted as he felt his air give way, he struggled a bit more. "Okay – uncle," he gasped. He sat up, panting hard, and winked at Two-Bit. "Two against one ain't fair. Still if that's the only way you can beat me-" He grinned infectiously at the older boy.

Two-Bit leaned back against the couch. "I'd pound you again – but it's not fair." He pointed to the tv. " 'Sides Mickey's on."

"So Dar got the electric back on, huh?" He stood up and caught sight of their old Ford pulling up outside the house.

Here we go.

Soda moved back into the kitchen to get some water from the tap, and heard his brother push open the screen door, hard.

"Is Soda back yet?"

"Hey Darry – sure is better when you get a bit of light round here." Two-Bit quipped.

Soda gulped down the water, laid the glass in the sink, and leant on the counter.

The door opened forcefully and his brother stomped in, dropped his lunch box on the counter and glared at his brother.

"What?" Soda shrugged.

"You wanna tell me why you didn't come home last night?"

"I did come home. I left the money on the counter for you."

"Yeah – this morning. I asked for that money last night Soda, so we could actually get a hot dinner, light, you know, kind of important things."

Soda shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry – I left it for you this morning." He grinned, "I thought you'd be pleased."

Darry nodded. "Uh huh." He bit his lip. "It was more than normal."

Soda reached into the cupboard to take out some bread. "So, Hal gave us extra. I did extra hours."

His elder brother caught his eye and looked at him steadily for a minute.

Soda held his gaze.

"Okay, fine. It's good to have the extra."

Darry pulled a hand through his hair. Damnit Soda, if you're getting into something and lying about it, I'll – well I don't know what I'll do but it sure won't be pretty.

"So where's Pony gotten to?"

Soda felt his brother's eyes watching him as he pulled the peanut butter out of the icebox.

It was so much easier to lie to dad. Not that easy was the word exactly.

Soda licked the peanut butter off his knife.

He was just, sort of, less challenging about it.

"The movies – I just dropped him off."

"So – the end of house arrest, huh?"

Darry watched as his brother messily sprinkled chocolate chips on the peanut butter and bread. "Yeah – but on a tight leash, I'm telling you."

Soda took a deep bite of his sandwich and remembered he hadn't eaten all day. He stopped in mid-chew when he felt his brother's cool green eyes boring into him.

He looked up. "What?" he asked, sounding as exasperated as he dared.

"Sit down – we need to talk."

Soda squared his shoulders and looked at his brother mutinously. This is just great. You're not dad Dar.

He frowned, laid his sandwich on the counter and pulled up a seat, turning it so he could lean on the back and face his brother. Darry sat down opposite him.

"So," he said mischievously, "What d'you wanna talk about?" his dark eyes danced challengingly.

Darry frowned.

So how am I meant to do this again? Mom and dad barely managed it. Except that time Soda 'borrowed' dad's car when he was ten and took Pony for a ride. Dad was terrified, tanned Soda's backside so hard he forgot to cry.

"I wanna know where you were last night. And I wanna know now."

Soda groaned. "Come on Dar. I was out, was all. I'm sorry, okay. I'll call next time."

"Sure you will. So where were you?"

Soda shifted uncomfortably. "Out with Steve."

Darry leaned in closer. "Sodapop Patrick Curtis – don't mess with me."

Soda's heart sank. Great, he's playing the name game.

That was always the sign mom was about to lose her less-than-perfect cool, and you'd better listen, and good.

He looked at him. "We went loads of places – you want me to draw you a map?"

His brother shook his head slowly.

When he spoke Soda heard his voice tense with anger. "No I don't want you to draw me a map. I'm sick of you coming home so late. You think I don't notice when you come back at all hours, huh? Stuff happens here late at night and I don't want you getting involved."

Soda shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Darry pointed a finger at his brother's chest. "You get caught up in that stuff and we'll have social services onto us like a shot."

He pulled his hand down and sighed. "You're curfew's twelve, you hear? And that's an hour more than I had when I was sixteen. I want you to stick to it."

Soda nodded mutely and raised his hand in a mock salute, but his heart wasn't in it.

"And you ain't leaving this house tonight. Maybe a night in will concentrate your mind."

Soda looked up. "Darry no-"

His brother smiled grimly. "Wanna make it two?"

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