Author's Notes:

Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. The people in this fandom are amazing! I appreciate your feedback (positive or critical), and I'm glad people seem to be enjoying the story so far. Y'all have made this writing process rewarding!

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It's late November, and the temperature has dropped dramatically, so that nights have become unbearably cold. Johnny hates this time of year. He wishes he could skip ahead to spring. Every year from November to April, Johnny has to make the same impossible choice at least once a week: stay at home and face his folks' wrath, sleep in the lot and face the elements, or bum the night with a buddy and face his pathetic neediness.

School let out a few hours ago, and besides a miserable half hour at home, Johnny has been walking around his neighborhood, his thumbs hitched in his belt loops. He's craving a cancer stick something awful, but he only has three left that he needs to use sparingly; he's too jittery right now to go lift one from a drugstore. With his luck today, he'll get caught: school was shitty, and home was shittier because of it. His old man is pissed at him again because the school called. Johnny's grades have started slipping now that he hasn't been to tutoring in three weeks.

The days have gotten shorter, and Johnny knows he doesn't have much longer until the sun goes down, and he'll have to make his decision. He's been absentmindedly headed to the park, but Johnny backtracks, deciding last minute to take a visit to the Curtis house. There's bound to be someone there who'd be willing to kill time with him. And maybe Darry will invite him to stay the night and save him the embarrassment of asking.

When Johnny reaches their block, he sees Darry outside alone, raking leaves into piles. Johnny jogs up, hoping that Darry will tell him Ponyboy is inside finishing his homework. Listening to Pony ramble on always settles Johnny's nerves.

"Hey Johnny," Darry says in a clipped, annoyed way. Johnny wonders if he's being paranoid or if Darry is legitimately angry to see him. Darry picks up a large pile of leaves and carries it over to an unlit fireplace in the corner of the yard.

"Hey Darry," Johnny returns. He waits on the sidewalk, a little uncomfortable. Darry's never been mean to him, but they haven't spent a significant amount of time together either, just the two of them. Johnny doesn't really know what to say to him. He's not warm like Soda and Pony. Johnny doesn't blame him, though. He has it harder than they do.

"So I guess you're not at the movies with Pony, huh?" Darry asks. He shakes his head, pissed off. Johnny breathes a sigh of relief, because while Darry is mad, at least Darry's not mad at him.

"Um..."

"He told me he was going with you, but I guess that dumb kid went alone again. I swear to God for a kid so smart, he's the stupidest boy I know."

Johnny agrees with Darry–it is unsafe for Ponyboy to go alone. But Johnny's too loyal to Pony to say so.

"None of the boys are around right now."

Johnny figures that's Darry's nice way of telling him to get lost, and Johnny's about to say an awkward goodbye when Darry continues talking. "Yeah, you just missed Soda. He remembered last minute he had a date with Sandy when I mentioned yard work." Darry smiles, a little fondly, a little bitterly.

"Oh," Johnny says.

"Would you quit hogging the conversation, Johnny Cade? I can't get a word in."

Johnny gives him a half-grin, and Darry tosses him the rake. "You wanna help out?"

"Sure."

Johnny hasn't done much work keeping up the Curtis property, but from the little he has done, he genuinely likes it. He helped Darry paint the house over the summer, and Darry even taught him how to use a hammer and lay down planks when he was fixing dry rot on the porch. Steady, simple work suits him well: he slips into the rhythm easily. There is something comforting about taking care of something, restoring it to its rightful state. If he were a bigger guy and could handle carrying heavy weights, roofing (like Darry does) or something in construction would be just right for him. But he's pretty sure he'd be laughed at if he asked for work at a place like that. He's 5'5", and in September, when the school nurse gave him his annual physical, he weighed in at 106 pounds.

Johnny rakes while Darry gathers the leaves and takes them to the towering burn pile. The work is soothing and steady, and Johnny enjoys listening to the leaves rustle as they're moved and the quiet sound of Darry's breathing as he works beside him. The ground is damp, and the bottom layer of leaves that cover the yard are stuck to the mud beneath them. Johnny has to use a lot of force to pull them up, and the effort of raking is warming every part of his frigid body except his fingers, toes, and nose.

"So Ponyboy tells me you had some trouble at lunch today," Darry says.

Johnny's stops raking for a second in surprise, and then picks up the pace again with more fervor. "It was nothing," Johnny says, shrugging it off. "Just Socs being Socs. You know how it is."

For the past three weeks, Randy has avoided Johnny in the hallways. Johnny has avoided Randy right back. This unspoken agreement had been faithfully kept, until earlier today.

Johnny had been late to lunch because he'd taken a smoke break in the bathroom. As his luck would have it, he had to pass the senior Soc table to get to the table where Ponyboy and Two-Bit were waiting for him in the back of the cafeteria. Johnny had been so focused on not looking at Randy that he didn't notice when Bob stuck out his foot to trip him. He'd gone flying to the floor and landed right on his face, just like in a Saturday morning cartoon. The Socs had laughed as he picked himself up, and then the surrounding tables joined in. "Careful not to slip on all that grease," Bob had said. Randy had laughed the loudest.

Johnny knows he shouldn't be hurt by that, considering how he ended things. But he is.

Randy is back on the football team. He's going steady with a pretty, popular girl named Marcia. She has dark hair like Johnny. Dark eyes like Johnny. Tan skin like Johnny. Johnny's seen his arm slung around her in the hallways. She's a cheerleader who wears pink pencil skirts and cashmere sweaters and just the right amount of eyeliner. Randy makes a point of brushing her hair back and kissing her in public. Of flirting with her and saying teasingly inappropriate things right there in school, where everybody can see them. They look perfect together.

Johnny knows he shouldn't be hurt by that either. But he is.

"Pony said you'd quit tutoring, too," Darry says.

Johnny stiffens. He wonders what else Ponyboy let out. He wonders if Darry knows about the blue Mustang and Randy's involvement in his jumping. He wonders if it's going to get back to Dally.

"I'm glad," Darry says, firmly. His voice has that hint of comforting authority. "That was a wise decision. I didn't like you hanging around that Adderson kid."

"I guess...I guess he's known for jumping greasers or something?" Johnny asks, trying to see if he can trick Darry into revealing how much Ponyboy told him.

"That's not it," Darry says. He's giving Johnny a hard, questioning look, and Johnny can see the change in his face when he comes to his decision. "You know what? You're old enough to hear it. I always forget you're about Soda's age.

"I caught Randy and Paul Holden–I don't know if you remember Paul, he was the best halfback on our team and we used to be pretty friendly–anyway, I caught them messing around in the locker room after football practice one time during my senior year."

"Oh," Johnny manages to say. His voice comes out off pitch.

"I know," Darry says. "Pretty sick. But I didn't tell anybody. I figured it wasn't my business. And when you're on a team, you stay loyal to your teammates. Even still, Paul has hated me ever since. When I heard you were being tutored by that Randy kid, Jesus Christ, I was about ready to forbid it. You're a nice kid, Johnny. You've been so good to Pony after, well, after our folks passed. Not many people stick around after something like that. Shows you've got real character. You're like another little brother to me, you dig? I didn't want you exposed to that messed up shit. And to be honest, don't be offended but...I was worried he'd harass you if he got you alone. I mean, you're old enough to take care of yourself, I know that. But you know how the gays are. You're too innocent to be around creeps like that."

Johnny's heart is pounding in his ears and a crushing weight is sinking into his chest. He holds onto the rake as firmly as possible. The splintered wood of the stick that is callousing his palm is the only thing keeping him aware of the physical world. He wishes he could curl up and die.

"Look. I'm telling you 'cause I know you keep your mouth shut. And 'cause Pony's on the track team with him. So I want you to do me a favor."

Johnny nods.

"Look after Ponyboy, okay? I hate the fact he's hanging around queers during practice. It worries the hell outa me."

Johnny bites his lip, pushing back the sob that wants to escape his chest. He is, what is the phrase? A wolf in sheep's clothing. That is exactly how Johnny feels.

Darry, so caught up in his own responsibilities and troubles, rambles on, not noticing. "That kid is always worrying the hell outa me. I swear I'm going to get gray hairs soon. I had no idea how hard this was going to be. And I'm damn clueless when it comes to raising him right. I feel like everything I do is the wrong thing, and we keep drifting farther and farther apart. He just doesn't listen, and he makes me so angry sometimes. I'm only trying to do what's best."

And then Darry's hand is on Johnny's shoulder. "You don't look too good, kid. Are you sick?"

Johnny shakes his head no. He thinks he might throw up.

"I'm sorry, Johnny. I shouldn't have been laying all my burdens on you." Darry puts his hand on Johnny's forehead. "You don't have a fever at least," he says. He pulls the rake out of Johnny's hand. "I can finish the rest tomorrow."

"I'm fine." He needs to leave. Right now. He can't bear for Darry to be so kind to him. Not while Johnny's betraying his trust.

"You know, you can spend the night here if you don't feel like walking back." Johnny's home is a five-minute walk away. But it was considerate of Darry to phrase it like that and avoid mentioning his folks, because he knows Johnny's home life embarrasses him. Darry has always been considerate.

"Why don't you come inside and get some rest?" he offers. "I've got some cream of broccoli soup I can heat up for you. It's canned, but it's still good."

"No, Darry, I-"

"You know I don't mind you hanging around. Honestly kid, you should come over more often. Lord knows nobody else helps me with the yard work," he jokes.

But Darry would mind, if he knew. Johnny knows that 'mind' doesn't even begin to cover it.

Darry is protective of the people he cares about. Dangerously protective. For Darry, whose certainty of a safe world collapsed when he lost his folks, the universe is divided between the gang he's responsible for and people and situations that are potential threats to them. He's the oldest, and he acts a hundred years older than he is. He reminds Johnny of a war sergeant: stern and fatherly, always watching out for those under his command, prepared to protect and serve in the face any disaster.

As a member of the gang, Johnny ranks among the people Darry cares for. But Darry loves his brothers first, and if he knew the truth, Johnny would be on the other side of the divide, nothing more to him than a threat he needs to protect Ponyboy from. Johnny doesn't have those types of feelings for Ponyboy, and even if one day he did, he would never, ever hurt Pony. But if all his lies were exposed, no one would believe him. He's scared just imaging Darry screaming at the two of them, questioning every time they've ever been alone together.

Johnny feels sick. Darry is a good man. He's a good friend, and he's a good brother, and one day, he'll be a good father. And it is the good people of the world who don't want people like him in it.

"I'm just gonna go home," Johnny says.

Darry squeezes his arm, a little sadly. "You sure you don't want some soup?"

Johnny shakes his head.

"You take care of yourself, okay buddy? Thanks for the help. And thanks for listening."

TBC