thanks for reading! i hope u all enjoyed the last chapter. finally hit the chapter that the gang is in so im excited to be sharing this with u all :) please please please leave a review if u liked this or if u have any questions or whatever they seriously make like my entire week and im always excited to read them. hope u enjoy and leave a review if u did!

xxx

"This is Tulsa?"

"This is Tulsa."

It certainly wasn't much, and Steve could tell his sons agreed by the unimpressed looks on all of their faces. The rural town had barely changed since he had left, save for a few buildings and more neighborhoods; however, that familiar feeling that he didn't belong was back in an instant. He knew every street name and could remember every one of his old hangout spots, but he knew he was an outsider. He knew that it wasn't his town despite having spent his entire childhood there.

As he continued driving through the streets of downtown Tulsa, which appeared to be the only recognizable difference from the last time he was there, he tried to ignore the still-standing police station; a place he had been too many times for comfort. It wasn't like he was a genuine hood or prided himself on his rap sheet like Dallas Winston and Tim Shepard, but he had suffered through his fair share of nights spent in a holding cell. Downtown Tulsa hadn't always been a pleasure cruise for any young teen from the East side of town, which was why he was basically lost in the maze of tall buildings and trendy-looking restaurants.

After a few more minutes of searching the over-populated streets, he finally found the twelve-story building branded with a red cursive title above its entrance. The hotel he had booked wasn't exactly a palace, but the Campbell was better than some dingy motel near what used to be Buck's bar and some trashy diner. Besides, he wasn't some broke kid anymore; he could afford a nice hotel for a few nights. He skillfully pulled into an open parking spot near the front and stole a glance at his watch. 4:11 PM. Not a terrible time for a road trip across state lines with three kids.

"Hey, James, can you wake your brother up for me?" He requested, referring to Chance who was fast asleep, his head resting against the smudged glass window, his eyes covered by his unkempt dark-brown bangs. James nodded eagerly as both Daniel and Steve stepped out of the car and Steve popped open the trunk, beginning to unload the four bags from within. Daniel took his own, slinging his tattered backpack over his shoulder. He took notice of his oldest son's bored expression and the way Chance stumbled from the car sleepily, blinking to keep his eyes open, feeling somewhat guilty for dragging them a state away for a wedding full of people they had no idea existed until a week prior. But, he kept his mouth shut and led the three into the lobby of the hotel, trying to force down his uncertainty and guilt.

"This place is huge..." He heard James mutter under his breath from behind him and Steve stifled a chuckle. The last time the kid had been out of the state, he was six, and Steve and Alice had taken the three down to San Diego for a few days. They had stayed in a condo just a mile away from the ocean and it was the most relaxed Steve had ever felt, despite Chance's constant complaining about sand in his clothes and Daniel getting a huge sunburn while surfing.

"Steve Randle. I called about a room on Sunday." He greeted simply, placing his credit card on the desk in front of the hotel manager. He got a single room key in return, #203 printed in cracked white lettering on the key. He turned to Daniel, tossing his oldest son the key, trying not to acknowledge the fact that Chance and James were fighting once more and Daniel seemed to be more interested in a girl in shorts across the lobby than anything else going on. Steve instantly regretted trusting him with getting everything and everyone up to the room while he made a call.

"Daniel!" He snapped, grabbing his oldest son's attention and pulling his gaze away from the girl his age. "Just get everything up to the room and make sure those two don't kill each other. I have to call a buddy real quick." He ordered, still not feeling content with his decision as he watched Daniel nearly trip over a suitcase, his eyes straying back to the teenage girl immediately. Steve rolled his eyes and fished two quarters out of his shirt pocket, enclosing them in his fist as he made his way over to the payphone on the street outside the hotel. The late September heat was just beginning to settle in for the afternoon as he stepped outside, running a hand through his hair. Although he wouldn't admit it, his heart was basically beating out of his chest due to the overwhelming nerves. He couldn't believe he was going to make this call.

He rolled the paper he had scrawled the number Keith had given him on between his fingers. Why he was so terrified of these ten digits, he would never know, but he stood paralyzed at the payphone, staring at the graffiti scratched into the top of the box that held the phone. He forced himself to bring his arm up and push the two quarters through the slot. Progress. He exhaled deeply, choosing to ignore the way his knees shook beneath him. He automatically punched in the numbers, not bothering to look at the paper; he had them memorized by this point. He stood, waiting as the phone rang, wanting so badly for the earth to open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole. He only hoped he didn't somehow screw up the message he had prepared beforehand. He kept his greeting simple and short, not wanting anyone on the other line to take it the wrong way. Just a simple courtesy call, that's all it was. He could handle this.

"Hello?" The deep voice on the other end greeted and he suddenly felt his stomach drop. Time seemed to stop momentarily and Steve honestly contemplated running away from the phone and acting as if he had never called. What a coward, he scoffed to himself, taking a deep breath as the voice questioned who was there.

"Darrel? It's, uh, Steve. Steve Randle." He elaborated, ignoring the slight tremble of his voice. Just as he was about to continue with his message, he heard a chuckle from the other line.

"Steve Randle. Man, I don't believe it." The man mused, Steve able to hear his grin through the phone. Steve didn't grin. He didn't laugh. He just wanted the conversation to be over with.

"Look, I'm in town for Keith's wedding. I just wanted to let you know so this doesn't get awkward. No hard feelings, right?" He questioned hopefully. He was referring to the incident that took place sixteen years ago. He knew Darrel Curtis would forgive him. He knew Darrel Curtis would forget about it in less than a month. The whole argument only began because Darry was just being a buddy, trying to protect Steve. When Steve told him Alice was pregnant, the twenty-four-year-old was outraged. When Steve invited him to see the kid, he declined, claiming how 'irresponsible' Steve was. When Darrel finally came around, ready to apologize, Steve and his newfound family were gone. Darrel called him constantly, nearly once every day, attempting to apologize, which actually impressed Steve. He was unaware of how much emotion Superman could feel. However, Steve never returned the calls. Eventually, the man stopped calling. They both stopped caring. They hadn't spoken since. At the time, it didn't affect Steve much, just another lost relationship from a town he couldn't care less about, full of people he couldn't care less about. Just another bridge burned in the wake of the fire that consumed his young life.

"I'm not the type to hold grudges for sixteen years," Darrel assured him with a laugh, and Steve bit his tongue, not wanting to say something he'd regret. "Tell you what, everyone's over here right now. Why don't you come on over and bring the kid with you? Me and Maureen are cooking dinner for everyone." The man offered and Steve felt himself sigh. This wasn't how he pictured the conversation going.

"Kids," he corrected, referring to Darry's earlier statement. He heard the man scoff and a shout from someone, presumably Keith, was heard from the background. He wondered if anyone had told Darry anything about his life. He wondered if the man even cared. "I have three kids and we just drove all the way over from Arlington. I think we'll pass tonight." He explained petulantly, failing to keep the attitude out of his tone.

"Steve, don't be stubborn, man. Bring the kids over here, nobody'll mind. Nobody's mad at you or nothin'." Darry assured him, the way he spoke making Steve feel just like that scared kid from Oklahoma again. The strong, resonant voice had barely changed from what Steve could remember. He could still hear the faint reprimands Darry would administer whenever the gang would make too much of a mess in the living room, or the warm laugh whenever they'd pull some dumb stunt. A voice that once brought him comfort now seemed foreign and distant through the crackling payphone. Steve tried to suppress the shudder that ran down his spine as the memories hit him like a semi-truck.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before responding with a doubtful "Alright. Same address?" He questioned, already knowing the answer.

"Same address as always," Darry confirmed, the noise in the background nearly drowning out his voice. "See you in a few, buddy." He concluded before hanging up, leaving Steve alone with just his thoughts and the dial tone. He hung up the phone, slumping against the wall of the phone booth, closing his eyes tightly for a momentary repose. He couldn't believe he was going to do this. Just as he was about to open his eyes and retreat inside the hotel, he heard the front glass door open and Daniel's surly voice calling him urgently.

"Dad, can we get some food? Everyone's starving." He exaggerated with a huff and Steve finally tore his gaze away from the payphone, crumpling up the piece of paper with the phone number on it and tossing it into the street. He obliged with a simple nod, following his son back inside the hotel. His past was catching up to him, and Steve wasn't sure how he felt about it.

'Maybe it won't be that bad.' He mused to himself.

But he knew it would be. It always was.

xxx

"I don't see why we can't just go to a restaurant."

Steve was thinking the same thing as he and his sons made their way up to the worn-down home of Darrel Curtis, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and his other shoved in his pocket. The house had barely changed, and the differences that Steve did notice didn't affect the overall feel of the house. He had kept the plain white shutters on the front windows that Steve could distinctly remember Mr. Curtis painting with his sons when he came over one morning. There was the same shabby maroon couch resting on the front porch, holes from where cigarettes had been dropped on it evident in the fabric. While Darry had obviously done some serious work on the house since the early '70s, he could feel the nostalgia hit him like a brick wall as he watched James eagerly ring the doorbell which instantly alerted a barking dog from inside. He knew he had that dry, tight-lipped smile plastered on his face, trying to mask his terrified expression. He had no idea why he was doing this.

Steve counted the seconds for the door to be thrown open, feeling his heartbeat quicken as each one passed. He had thought about this moment for years, picturing what it would look like when he finally turned up on this doorstep once more. He found it ironic, how the Curtis' home had once acted as a safe place, a haven, and now his hand shook with irrepressible trepidation. He never saw himself as afraid of anything, but that changed the moment he decided to run from his problems. Vietnam hadn't taught him much, but it taught him how to be intrepid. It taught him to never look back and to watch out for himself. So, it confused him to no end how he ended back up in Tulsa. Why did he have to look back?

The door was pulled open and Steve was greeted with a face he never planned on seeing again. It was a real shock to see the kid all grown up, but he figured he looked different too. Ponyboy Curtis had certainly outgrown his teenage years and had matured to resemble his father and somehow both of his brothers. His hair was cropped short, having lost its control from all the grease, and held the same color as Darry's with a few lingering streaks of auburn. His eyes were still a conflicting mixture of green and gray, but they seemed less trusting and open compared to his teenage self. They weren't cold, but they weren't rather welcoming either; however, Steve figured that had to do with the fact that he was the one at the door. The kid held a smile almost a mile wide, not slyly or rudely, he looked relatively excited. It seemed to take him a moment to actually realize who Steve was.

"Steve Randle. That really you?" He questioned, unable to wipe the dopey grin off his face. Steve gave a curt nod, forcing himself to laugh to release the tension building up inside of him, nearly suffocating him. He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the confused glances from his sons, who seemed to be bored out of their skulls. Ponyboy took a step forward, pulling Steve into a tight hug. Steve was genuinely surprised, considering their history, but he hugged the kid back, not breaking away until Pony did. The kid invited them all inside, Pony ordering him to place his cheap bottle of wine on the kitchen counter which was crowded with cooked hot dogs. He suddenly regretted bringing the dinner wine when he caught a glance at all the barbecue food but set it down nonetheless.

"And who are these guys?" Pony questioned, referring to his kids, throwing James one of those signature smiles. Steve cleared his throat, trying not to let anybody see his trembling hands.

"Well, I'm sure you know Daniel," he began, attempting to keep the rigidity from his tone as he gestured towards his tallest, fair-haired son. "And this is Chance and James. Guys, say hi to Ponyboy Curtis." He instructed his children, shooting Daniel a dangerous look when he didn't even try to stifle his laughter. Ponyboy brushed it off though, not seeming to mind the mocking glances from Steve's sons. The man took time to shake each one of his son's hands as Steve caught Darry's eye from across the room. He felt his stomach do a literal flip, quickly tearing his gaze away from the older man as he made his way across the room to Steve and his sons.

"Glad you made it, man," Darry greeted, his pale blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he grabbed Steve into a near bone-crushing bear hug. Steve was simultaneously confused and conflicted by his surroundings and knew he would never pinpoint who was who. He could see two kids, one about James's age and the other around Chance's age, in the room amongst the sea of adults and he wondered whose they were. The boy who looked to be about Chance's age was sitting in Darry's old recliner, thick brown curls sticking up in odd places. He shared Darry's light blue eyes and looked to be a spitting image of the oldest Curtis brother, which shocked Steve to some degree. There was a girl who shared the boy's brunette hair and blue eyes, but she held Ponyboy's exact grin across her pale face. Her cheeks and nose were sprinkled with light brown freckles and she spoke to a young woman that Steve didn't recognize, her mouth moving a mile a minute.

Darry must have noticed him watching the other two kids and locked eyes with him once more. "Those are my two, Mark and Winnie," he explained, referencing the two kids and genuinely surprising Steve. He figured Winnie would have been the daughter of the ever-talkative Keith or Ponyboy, but at the same time, he understood how they were both Darry's. They both had that some contemplative stare in their eyes that never told what they were truly thinking. To Steve, that was always Darry's strong suit. "They're on fall vacation right now for a week." He added, explaining why they were home on a school day. The one thing Steve knew Darry put more importance on than family was school. He felt a pang of guilt knowing that he had just taken his three kids out of school for a week to go on a road trip, but he swallowed the thought and continued his introduction nonetheless.

"Darry, this is Daniel, Chance, and James." He introduced his sons just as a woman with light brown curls and pursed lips strode up to Darry, placing a fragile hand on his bicep. He knew her, at least. She was Maureen Hunter (now Curtis) and she was one of the hottest greaser chicks of his time. She and Darry had hooked up about the same time Steve and Sodapop were shipped to basic training and when Steve returned alone three years later, they were already hitched. There was no ceremony, he heard from Ponyboy, they just woke up one morning and decided it was time. He and Maureen had always got along and Alice liked her more than he did, but he felt genuinely upset as he looked her in the eye, shaking her hand firmly, remembering the time he and Dallas Winston had talked about her body (mainly the chest area) for over an hour each day. Yes, he could remember what he was like at seventeen and he wasn't particularly proud, which was why he nearly had to send Daniel out of the room as soon as Maureen walked up.

"Pleased to meet you, boys," Darry responded before turning back to Maureen who was explaining something about dinner and drinks. He was just about to turn away and go back to talking to Ponyboy when he felt a strong arm wrap itself around his neck. He panicked, attempting to push the arm away from him, proving unsuccessful as he felt another arm reach up and mess up his perfectly styled hair. Only one person he knew was completely immature enough to do such a thing.

"Get the hell off of me, Keith!" He hissed, pulling Keith Matthews' arm away from his neck frantically. He could hear Chance snicker under his breath before covering his Cheshire Cat-like grin with his hand a second later. Even at almost 39 years old, the man was still suffering a severe case of Peter Pan syndrome and had never abandoned his childlike disposition. His wedding was Saturday and Steve was floored by how he got a woman to agree to marry him when he constantly acted like a twelve-year-old boy. No, scratch that; a twelve-year-old was more mature than Keith Matthews.

"C'mon, Stevie. Don't be such a buzzkill." He whined, Steve smelling the unmistakable scent of whiskey on his breath. He could see Daniel opening his mouth to make a witty remark, but he quickly silenced the boy with a harsh glare. No way in hell was he letting his sons see him as anything less thanks to his childhood "friends" who still acted the same way they did twenty years prior.

"Leave him alone, Two. Don't wanna scare him off," Darry joked, giving Steve a playful punch on his left shoulder, not noticing the lethal look Steve shot him. He never regretted coming to a place so fast, Vietnam excluded. "You wanna come out back for a few drinks? I promise Two-Bit won't tackle you no more." He chuckled, his familiar drawl agitating Steve to no end. He reluctantly shook his head, glancing back at his kids.

"I-I can't. I've got my boys with me." He explained, for once grateful for the excuse. He made a point of never drinking in front of his sons. He did it when he could, but it wasn't exactly like he had hours of spare time on his hands nowadays. Between being a single father and running an auto shop, the only time he really could drink was in secret when the entire house had gone to sleep and he was awake and restless. Even then, whenever he picked up a can of beer he could see his father in himself, which just resulted in making him want to drink less. He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he had sat down and had a drink alone. He didn't want to.

"Just one drink, Steve-o. You can leave the kids inside. It ain't gonna turn into an all-out beer blast." Keith assured him with that same smile that he wore whenever he had invited Steve out as a teenager. For the record, they had always turned into beer-blasts whenever they were out as kids. Either that or somebody ended up in a brawl or slashing someone else's tires. He didn't exactly have the cleanest of times when he hung out with Keith.

"You guys okay with that?" He questioned as he turned towards his boys, hoping that one of them would protest. All three nodded in perfect unison, Steve swearing under his breath as he ran a hand through his now untidy hair. It was now or never. "You touch me again and you're dead, Keith." He groaned as he followed an expectant-looking Ponyboy to the back porch. This wasn't going to end well, and he knew it, so why he agreed in the first place was beyond him. All he knew was that they had a lot of catching up to do, and he didn't want to be a part of any of it. But, it seemed that was his own fault.

It was always his own fault.

xxx

Chance Randle was speechless.

Never, in his entire life, had he ever seen an encounter between somebody and his father like what had just happened. He had no idea that somebody was even allowed to act like that around his dad. It was almost surreal like maybe there was a chance it hadn't happened and he was just hallucinating.

He had heard next to nothing about Tulsa. He knew two things: it was in Oklahoma, and it was where his father grew up. There was nothing else to be said about the insignificant town because he knew nothing else. But, now that he was actually in the place where it all happened, it was almost too much to take in at once.

First of all: Ponyboy. The man looked to be pleased by his father's appearance, but it seemed to Chance that his dad couldn't care less. He could briefly remember his mother mentioning something once when he was almost too young to remember. He had just entered the first grade and claimed proudly at the dinner table that he had a brand new best friend. He had asked his parents if they had ever had a best friend and his dad fell silent. He barely spoke a word for the rest of the meal that evening and went to sleep without saying goodnight. Worried that he had upset his father, his mom had comforted him by saying his father was only upset because he had a best friend too, but they weren't friends any longer. The best friend of his father also had a widely outrageous name, but Chance couldn't quite remember what it was. He silently wondered to himself if it was Ponyboy as he took a seat on the couch in the living room next to a moody-looking Daniel. His older brother almost looked as baffled and uninformed as he did. Knowing Daniel, he was probably just more upset to be relegated to hanging out with the younger kids.

"Hey! My name's James. What's yours?" He could hear his younger brother exclaim excitedly, his voice only irritating and interrupting Chance's train of thought. He could see his older brother roll his eyes in agitation next to him and he heaved a sigh. This is what they had been dragged away from their home for a week. If he was being honest, he longed to be back at home or school, messing around with his friends and not the kids of some long-lost friend of his father.

"I'm Mark! Nice to meet you, James." The boy responded in the same overly enthusiastic tone. It wasn't mocking, however, it was almost gleeful. He had to be one of those boys who was used to being around younger kids and was skilled in communicating with them. Unfortunately, both Chance and his brother were lacking in that department and both of them seemed to resent James about 90% of the time. There was a five-year difference between Chance and his younger brother and although he cared for him most of the time and made sure he ate and everything, he was constantly annoyed by the boy and couldn't stand his never-ending need for attention. Sometimes, he only missed his mother for her sole purpose of making sure James left him alone when he needed the silence.

"So, you guys are Uncle Steve's kids?" A girl about the same age as James questioned as she took a seat on the couch just a few inches away from Chance. He was pretty sure she was introduced as the younger sister of the boy, but he would be lying if he said he was paying attention during the introduction. He nodded nonetheless, almost surprised when she referred to his father as 'Uncle Steve' while his dad had never explained to him who any of these people were.

"You've never been to Tulsa, right?" The boy clarified, already knowing the answer. Chance locked eyes with the curly-haired teen, not able to tear away from his blue-eyed gaze which was almost hypnotizing. He seemed intimidating, but at the same time, harmless. He withheld judgment, unable to understand exactly what this kid was getting at. "You interested in a tour of the neighborhood?" He offered, unfazed by Chance trying to size him up.

"I'll pass." Daniel scoffed, rolling his eyes once more. His older brother was never up for hanging around with new people unless that new person happened to be a girl.

"James?" The boy questioned, apparently not noticing the way James was completely fascinated with the younger sister of the blue-eyed boy sitting cross-legged on the chair. He leaned forward as James didn't reply, locking eyes with Chance once more. "What about you? Wanna get out of here?" He cocked an eyebrow, his smirk almost dangerous. Chance wondered what on earth could be so captivating about a sleepy Oklahoma town at four in the afternoon. He shrugged.

"Why not?" He replied, heaving a sigh as he stood from the couch, James almost instantly replacing his spot next to the young girl. The other boy moved to stand, but the young girl stopped him with a shout of caution.

"Mark, Ma said you aren't supposed to leave before dinner!" She protested with a whine and Mark pulled a face, obviously formulating a plan.

"Ma! Can I go outside for a few minutes?" He called towards the open back door, not receiving a reply. He went to stand anyway. "She said yes." He explained as he reached for something behind the chair, not uncrossing his legs just yet.

"Whatever, I'm not gonna be the one gettin' in trouble for heading off." She pouted, turning towards the television once more.

"Have fun," Mark smirked as he pulled two crutches out from behind the chair, slipping his arms into the cuffs towards the top of the crutches and grabbing onto a bar beneath the armholes. He slowly eased himself up off the chair and Chance was shocked as he uncrossed his legs and stood up, leaning on the crutches for support. The boy caught him staring and Chance looked away instantly from the empty right pant leg. From what Chance could see, the other boy's leg ended just below the right knee. He could tell his facial expressions had been the opposite of subtle as soon as Mark locked eyes with him once more. "What?" He questioned harshly, his blue eyes piercing into Chance, glaring accusing daggers.

"Nothing." He responded without hesitation, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Good. Let's get out of here then." He requested simply, moving towards the front door and opening it. Chance averted his eyes from his leg, choosing to stare at the floor instead. Tulsa was proving itself to be a very confusing place.

xxx