Author's Note: Hi! Uh, long time no see?

I keep saying that. There are really no excuses. But here I am! Hope this is a worthy return. I might be a little shaky, but there's (a lot) more where this came from, if I can get it all done, lol.

Title from the Frankie Laine song. Characters are Hinton's. I don't own either. You know the spiel.

Happy reading :)

XXXXX

August 1965

Darry was really starting to get worried that some day soon, Sodapop was going to waltz into their bedroom and tell him that he had hooked up with a horse. He would walk in with that signature swagger of his, a sleazy little smirk on his face, flop down on his bed, hands contentedly laced behind his head, and say,

"Yep. Fucked her."

And Darry would ask, "Who? Betsy? Luanne?"

And Soda would say, "Nah. Buttercup." Or whatever the fuck they named horses. "She was really great. I can see why all the stallions in the paddock just go crazy for her."

This would be the point where Darry would have to disown his brother and probably skip town. Maybe even change his name. He would have to cut all ties with his family and hometown on the day that Sodapop admitted to him that he was banging a horse. This had only become a concern after the last rodeo Soda rode in; Darry had a dream that night that Soda came up to the family with his horse and introduced it as his new girlfriend. Everyone else was ecstatic – Mom, Dad, and of course Ponyboy – but Darry had just stood there in the dream in abject horror, unable to understand why everyone else thought this was normal.

It had, unfortunately, become a recurring dream of his.

"You been drinkin' a lot of milk before bed? Because I heard that can give you nightmares." Darry shook his head. "Any sorta dairy? Pickles, spicy food?"

"Two-Bit," Darry sighed, "no. I ain't pregnant, and the spiciest thing we got in the house is hot sauce. Ain't got nothin' to do with food."

"You don't know that," Two-Bit said, shrugging as they walked through the back door. The two had crossed paths as Darry was coming home from work and Two-Bit was…well, probably coming over just to bug everybody. Darry had been wanting to tell someone about the dream for a while, but there was no way he could tell anybody in his family – certainly not Sodapop. Ponyboy was too young, and his parents would probably have him institutionalized. Dallas or Steve would either side-eye him or laugh in his face (probably both), and for whatever reason, Darry just couldn't bring himself to tell Johnny. Kid had enough on his plate as is; he didn't need to hear about Darry's nightmares about his kid brother becoming a horsefucker on top of it all.

So that left Two-Bit, who was more than happy to talk about all matters weird and wacky.

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think it's representative of somethin'. Like I don't think you need to worry so much about Soda fuckin' a horse as you seem to be."

"Thanks, Two-Bit. Very insightful."

Two-Bit grinned as the screen door slammed shut behind them. "Happy to help."

Mrs. Curtis was just coming into the kitchen at the same time as Darry and Two-Bit, and she looked at them funny. "Help with what? What're y'all on about?"

"Completely normal things, Mrs. C," Two-Bit said, and Darry resisted the urge to stomp on his foot and crush it under the heel of his work boot. He really had the worst friends. Darry barely got to talk to his buddies from school anymore now that they were off at college and he was stuck here saving up, but the friends he still had were possibly the most annoying people on the planet. Dumb, too.

"Um," Margaret said, looking vaguely concerned and then shrugging it off. "Alright, then. Stayin' for dinner, Keith?"

Two-Bit looked like he wanted to correct her, but he knew better. "No, ma'am. Just passin' through."

"Let me help you with that," Darry said, grinning dangerously, and he started pushing Two-Bit roughly by the shoulder through the kitchen and into the living room. And then he popped Two-Bit in the arm.

"Hey, man, what gives?" Two-Bit rubbed the sore spot on his arm and then shook it out.

"Keep yer trap shut about what I told ya."

"I don't got any plans to tell anybody."

"Well, you better keep it that way. It's just a dumb dream."

"If it's just a dumb dream, why keep it a secret?" Two-Bit asked, raising an eyebrow and looking to push some more buttons. "I mean, I got a pretty good laugh outta it. Might as well spread the love, right?" Darry rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to God to smack some sense into his dumbass buddy.

"Because I said so," he snapped. "Go on, now, get."

Two-Bit held up his hands in surrender and turned tail. He stopped at the front door for a moment, though, catching Darry's eye with a devilish grin, and called through the house,

"And I'll be seein' y'all at the rodeo tomorrow!"

Shit.

xXx

"Hey, Darry?"

"Yeah-huh?"

Pony was sitting in his tree, the one growing right above Shiloh, their old yellow cur dog's, grave. It was getting on towards dark, but he was still sitting in that tree with one of his books. He had an expression on his face like he had a stomachache. "What's eighth grade like?"

Darry blinked. "Eighth grade?" he repeated, and even through the near-dark he could see Ponyboy roll his eyes.

"That's what I said, yeah."

Darry leaned back against the porch and shrugged. Figures Pony would start having these questions, what with school starting up again next month. Not for Darry, though. For the first time in a long time, he wouldn't be going to school in the fall. "It ain't so bad. Not really much different from seventh grade. You're still gonna be goin' to the same school. The classes are just a little different, that's all."

Ponyboy thought about that for a minute before he nodded. "Is it real different once you get to high school?"

"Maybe some. Some people look thirty and others look thirteen." Darry didn't say that he figured Pony would probably be one of the younger-looking ones. Darry had already been shaving at his age, but Pony was still as baby-faced as the day he was born. "And there's more stuff to do."

"Like what?"

"Oh, more dances, more teams, more clubs, different kinds of classes. You'll see."

"They still have bells?"

"'Course."

"Do they have bells in college?"

Darry snorted. "I don't think so. Everyone's on their own schedule. Imagine bells ringing all hours of the day might get pretty annoying."

Ponyboy nodded one more time and finally slid from his sacred spot. It was a nice night, with the lightning bugs and cicadas buzzing. Pony followed one of the lightning bugs around for a minute before deciding to let it be. He started heading for the door, but instead of going inside, he just sat down next to Darry on the porch steps.

"I'm kinda nervous about it," he admitted.

"You always are, and you're always fine," Darry said. "You'll be okay."

And he would be. Pony was a tuff kid. A kid, sure, but he could handle himself. He would be fine.

"I guess," Pony grumbled, and he slouched against the other post and went sullen and silent. Guess he didn't agree.

"What's this?"

Darry looked up and saw Sodapop making quick work of a slice of peach pie with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream sitting on top. That boy was a bottomless pit.

"What's what?" Pony asked.

Soda gestured vaguely with his fork. "The two of y'all. You conspirin' against me or somethin'?"

Ponyboy scoffed. "You're crazy."

"Yeah, somethin' like that," Soda conceded.

Darry watched the two of them go back and forth for a moment and realized that he was dangerously close to just blurting it out. They were brothers, after all, and what were a few secrets and stupid dreams between brothers? Soda would probably laugh about it. But, no. It was too fucking weird, dreaming about your brother admitting to bestiality. That was just a step too far. Darry wondered if he would even be having these dreams if he was at college right now, getting settled in and waiting for classes to start. Probably not. Probably just too much of their lives spent in close quarters, too much of his life spent with his kid brother sleeping just a few feet away and the other across the hall.

This was just not how Darry had seen things going.

"…he'll be riding bronc tomorrow, too, so we're kinda goin' up against each other. I mean, 'course we are, since we're competin' against all the other guys and all that, but I mean we kinda got a bet on about who'll win."

"I bet you will, since Dally spends most of his time jockeying," Pony said. Darry narrowed his brow.

"Dal's riding bronc tomorrow?" He asked, and his brothers looked funny at him.

"Yeah, ain't you been listenin'?" Sodapop flicked the side of his head and Darry batted his hand away. "Ain't no way he's gonna beat me, though. Ain't nobody got me beat."

"You think I should ride in the rodeo, Sodapop?" Pony asked, willing to do just about anything Sodapop said. When Soda said jump, Pony asked how high? and then jumped just a little higher to prove his devotion. That sorta thing squeezed at Darry's heart, and not in the good way, like when he was with a girl.

"Dunno, Pony," Soda shrugged, looking a bit thoughtful about it. "You'd think it'd be a natural fit and all, what with your name" – Soda shot Darry a sly look, like he wanted to laugh about that later – "but you're more the runnin' type, ain't ya? Like Darry's got football. See what I mean? You leave the horses to me."

Soda smiled and Pony accepted that good-naturedly – rare for him – but Darry saw that for what it was. When they were getting ready for bed that night, Darry checked Sodapop with his shoulder as he walked past. "You coulda just said no."

"Huh?" Soda thought for a moment before he realized what Darry was talking about. He checked their bedroom door before kicking it shut, presumably to keep nosy little brothers from listening in. "Aw, man, don't be like that."

"Be like what?"

"That. You know. Don't gotta be a dick about it."

"That's not what I mean," Darry said. "I mean you can be clear with him so he gets the idea. Rodeo's your thing – you said so yourself. And I know you like it bein' that way cuz you're good at it. No shame in wantin' it to be just yours."

Soda scoffed. "Comin' from the guy who's always tryin' to get him to go out for football."

Darry shrugged. "He's fast. If he beefed up a bit, he'd be great at receiver."

Soda flopped down on his bed, lacing his hands behind his head, and Darry got some serious déjà vu. "You're thinkin' about this too hard. You always make it too complicated."

"No, I don't," Darry grumbled, but he knew he did. "I ain't tryin' to gatekeep anything."

"And I'm not either!" Soda said, good-natured and dangerous in one go.

"Now you're bein' the confusing one."

Soda sighed and sat himself upright so they were sitting face-to-face on their beds, knees nearly touching. "Look," he began, "the kid can do whatever the hell he wants, and I ain't gonna get in his way. And yeah, it's nice to have the rodeo. It feels like mine. But can't both things be true? Can't I want it for myself and still step aside if he wants to give it a go?"

Oh, Soda. Ever the diplomat. "Sure," Darry said. "But you don't gotta step aside for nobody."

Soda smiled. "I ain't like you guys, ya know. The prizes are cool, sure, but I mostly just like bein' around the horses. That's the best part about it, for me. And the whole place, the crowd. Know what I mean?" Darry nodded. "Winnin's great, but it's no skin off my nose if I lose. Which I won't," he added quickly because he still had his pride. All those Curtis boys did; it was ingrained in their DNA. "'Sides, I know he ain't gonna do it, anyway. He says those things and then moves on. Let the kid run in circles if that's what he likes. And before you say it, he ain't gonna go out for football, neither," Soda said, laughing, and Darry laughed some, too.

"Oh, I know it," he said.

And he did. Soda flicked the light off and they both lay quiet in the heat and the dark, and Darry hoped to God he wouldn't be having any strange dreams tonight.

xXx

Rodeo days were a family event.

It was cowboy glamour. There was nothing like walking through dust and shit in your favorite pair of boots and spending the night under the lights watching bronc and barrel racing.

Their mom wasn't the biggest fan because her main concern was the wellbeing of her sons, but Dad would always talk her down throughout the day and on the car ride over. Soda had been doing this for years, was some sort of horse whisperer, and nothing bad was gonna happen to him because nothing bad had ever happened to him when he was in that saddle.

"Now, if he was riding bareback, that might be a different story," Darrel Senior said, laughing at his own joke. Darry would exchange looks with his brothers and they would all roll their eyes at the old man. Soda had to resist saying that he was just as good bareback as he was in the saddle, but their father liked to think he was funny, so – they let him have it.

Soda would peel off from them almost as soon as they got there so he could go visit the horses and get himself ready. Darrel and Margaret usually walked with their other two sons for a bit, but then they would split off to find good seats, leaving Darry with strict orders to not let Ponyboy out of his sight. Darry would nod but roll his eyes once his parents' backs were turned; the kid was thirteen years old. He was old enough now to look out for himself, right? But hey, buy the kid a Pepsi and a corndog and he was golden. And once the rest of the guys showed up, he would get distracted by them. Darry really needed them to make their appearance because the kid was full-up with questions right now, questions Darry didn't particularly feel like answering.

"When does OSU start?"

"Early September."

"Do you have to live in a dorm?"

"Uh-huh."

"With a roommate?"

"Prolly."

"Do you think you'll be there by next fall?"

"God, I hope so."

Ponyboy stopped in his tracks and scowled. "Jeeze. You don't gotta be a jerk about it."

Darry got defensive. "I ain't bein' a jerk."

"Yeah, you are!"

Darry rolled his eyes. "Look, Pony. I'd rather not talk about it, 'kay?"

"I don't see why if you're so sure you'll be there by next fall. That ain't forever."

No, but it was sure feeling like it.

Darry glanced at the sinking sun. It was just about time for them to find their seats. As he watched the horizon, he saw Steve, Johnny, and Two-Bit approaching them at a leisurely pace, jostling each other and laughing and looking to be in much better spirits than the brothers were. But that was Darry's fault; a bitter man was generally the one to blame for the turn in mood. Steve noticed them first and sketched a wave.

"Hey," he called. "'Bout ready to head to the stands?"

Pony peeled himself away from Darry's side to go stand with Johnny as Steve and Two-Bit stepped up to shake Darry's hand. "Sure," Darry said, trying to act like he hadn't once again pissed off his kid brother. Either the guys didn't notice, or they were good enough to not mention the sour mood.

As they started walking to the stands, Two-Bit took it upon himself to catch Darry and Pony up on their conversation. "The three of us was just talkin', and we're tryin' to decide who's gonna stay on longer, Sodapop or Dally."

"Soda's stayin' on longer for sure," Pony said, defensive of their brother. "He's the more experienced one. He's one'a the best."

"Sure," Two-Bit shrugged, not able to argue against that. "But Dal's an ornery one. He'll do his damnedest to stay up there."

"I dunno," Steve drawled. "Hate to say it, but kid's got a point."

"Well, Johnny here agrees with me. Don't'cha, Johnnycakes?" Two-Bit asked, grinning and slinging an arm around Johnny's shoulders. Johnny shrugged out of his hold.

"I see what ya mean," was all Johnny said, and Darry took that to mean that Johnny had no interest in betting on this one.

They ended up leaned against the fence right down front, probably blocking the view of the people in the front row. The stadium lights shone bright against the orange Oklahoma sunset, and the crowd quieted for nothing. The announcer's voice rang loud above the crowd through the tin and static of the speakers, and they watched, half-interested, the bareback riding, steer wrestling, and tie-down roping in anticipation of the saddle bronc event, the five of them chattering aimlessly amongst each other.

"What crawled up yer ass, huh?"

Darry slid his eyes over to Two-Bit and decided to play dumb. "Dunno what you're talkin' 'bout."

Two-Bit laughed and ended up almost spitting out his beer, which would have been viewed as a tragedy by the man-child. "C'mon." He nudged Darry, waggling his eyebrows. "Don't even try it. Don't even try. Anymore weird dreams?"

"No," Darry insisted, though that wasn't entirely true. Last night's dream – nightmare, really – involved Mom, Dad, Soda, Pony, and Buttercup the Horse dancing in circles around him and drawing closer with each rotation until Darry found himself suffocating against the velvety skin of Buttercup. He must have died in the dream, with his mouth full of fine horse hair, because he had jerked awake and found himself sweating bullets.

He'd had to change his sheets in secret, dirty shame.

"Sure," Two-Bit chuckled.

"Man, I would do anything to get them to stop," Darry admitted tiredly, smearing a hand down his face. "They're so weird. And I'm just fuckin' tired."

He was going to say just fuckin' tired of THEM, meaning the dreams, but he stopped. Two-Bit got this sad, funny look on his face when Darry said that and readjusted his hat. Two-Bit looked the part of cowboy more than any of the rest of them, even Soda, but he couldn't even remember the last time he'd been on a horse.

"Man, you hate it here, don't ya?" He asked, smiling, but he sounded a bit miffed by the idea. Darry shook his head.

"Naw," he said, but – yes. "Why would you even say that?"

"I dunno, guess I can just read between the lines, get what I'm sayin'?"

Yeah, Two-Bit was good at that. It was sort of a pisser.

But he had Darry pegged. He hated it here. He wanted nothing more than to get out of here. Darry didn't want to spend another minute in this town, but he was going to be here at least another year. He wasn't sure what he had done to piss God and the Universe off so bad, but not even the good grades, the star quarterback posturing, the state title, and being Boy of the Goddamn Year could get him out of Tulsa. And if all of that couldn't, what would? Instead, he was stuck sharing a room with his kid brother (who he was dreaming was fucking horses, which had to be some form of punishment for something), and his baby brother was questioning him like he was a one-man Spanish Inquisition.

God help him.

"It's their event," Steve called down the line. He had forced Johnny to stand in between him and Ponyboy, but Pony was too caught up in looking around wide-eyed at everything like he was seeing it all for the first time - instead of the five-thousandth - time to care. He was chewing on his paper straw and sucking up the last dregs of his Pepsi like he simply didn't care that he was clearly the most annoying person in the stadium at this very moment. Darry could see where Steve was coming from with the kid sometimes, and this was one of those times.

(Though, to be fair, it had been one of those times for months now.)

"Last call – who y'all got?" Two-Bit asked the lineup, grinning again.

"Soda's gonna win. He always stays on the full time," Pony hollered back, starting to get mad about getting asked so many times, believing the question to be some sort of betrayal of his brother.

"Steve-o?" Two-Bit asked.

Steve hissed through his teeth and had to agree with Pony. Johnny, however, went with Dallas (shocking.) Two-Bit had Dallas this time, too.

"Be our tie-breaker, Darrel," he said, popping his arm – revenge for yesterday. "Who ya got?"

Darry looked out at the first bronc contestant. He didn't even last the full eight seconds. Pony was right, Soda always lasted the full time, and he had a feeling Dallas would, too. The guys were right about his sheer will being enough to keep him up there; Dallas had enough will for twenty guys. And Soda had style for sure, and the horses loved him, but Dallas…he had control.

And most important? Dallas wasn't Darry's brother. And Darry was feeling like being a dick right now.

"What the hell? I got Dally."

Pony looked like he'd been shot. "You stupid or somethin'?"

Darry ignored him.

It was odd for Dally to do anything outside of jockeying, but he sometimes made a rodeo appearance when he was out of the rotation or there weren't any races, or Buck was just pissed off at him. He didn't wear a hat, so his white-blond head was impossible to miss as he made his way through the pen and mounted the agitated horse. The boys glued their eyes to their buddy as the alarm went off and the gate opened up, releasing Dallas and the horse. He wasn't as graceful as Sodapop, but just as Darry thought, he had the control. He had control for the full eight seconds before getting thrown off. The crowd gasped, but Dallas was quick to pop up, like always. He wasn't one to wave at the crowd, but he brushed himself off and he and the horse left as fast they came.

"Good score," Steve surmised. "We'll see how it holds up."

As far as the boys were concerned, this was a two-man competition between Dallas and Sodapop. None of the other riders mattered. It was like they were just there, set dressing. But, if you asked anyone around town, they would probably all say that was how those boys always acted: nobody mattered outside of the seven of them.

Everybody else was just set dressing.

Dallas' score did get beat a little while later, but it didn't much matter until Sodapop was up. He liked the crowd more; he would chat with people as he made his way through the pen to the horse, make nice with it, and Darry was hoping to God its name wasn't Buttercup. Two-Bit side-eyed him with a slow grin, and Darry had to resist tossing him over the barrier between the stands and the pen.

"Now up, Sodapop Curtis."

There was a little bit of laughter – as always – when his name was announced. Out-of-towners, probably, who weren't familiar with Soda and knew nothing about him and his crew of weird associates. Tonight, though, even knowing that, it made Darry's ears heat up. He himself had never resented being Junior, but he sometimes questioned his parents' sanity for what they had named those brothers of his. The doctors and nurses must've had a good laugh at that – twice! They did it twice. Darry couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand any of them right now.

Darry could've been a cowboy. Not like Soda was, or even Two-Bit, but an Oklahoma State Cowboy. Maybe Darry still could be. He could wear the black and orange, go to practice, play on Lewis Field every Saturday. He wouldn't have to work every day roofing houses; he could go to classes, major in business or engineering or something. Find a girl. Have friends to hang out with who weren't always getting him into fights. Friends who didn't know a thing about him and didn't care to.

Stillwater sure wasn't the most glamourous place to be, but it beat being here.

Soda looked happy as he mounted that horse. He looked like he was having the damn time of his life, and Darry hated him for saying he would just be okay with Ponyboy trying to encroach on his turf. He didn't buy it for a second.

The alarm went off and the gate was thrown open, and the first few seconds went just as they always did, with Soda getting bucked around on that horse, swinging his free arm and trying to hold on to both the horse and his hat. The horse seemed a bit wild tonight, but Soda rode the wave with it. Just like always. It was just like always.

And then it wasn't.

Riders had been tossed off the horses before, obviously. Soda had been tossed off horses before. Happened all the time. Wasn't no thing. He lost sometimes, too. Wasn't no thing.

Tonight, Soda got bucked off at 6.8 seconds, went flying, and landed right on his back, head and legs slamming into the dirt.

Remember how the crowd wouldn't quiet for nothing?

Yeah. Not nothing.

xXx

"Hey."

Soda looked up and saw Darry standing at their door. For the past week since he'd been bucked off that horse, he had been laying around in his bed doing…nothing.

That was not his natural state.

"Hey," Soda parroted.

The first moments after his fall went as most do: the crowd gasped and assumed he would bounce back up. But that's the thing, Soda didn't bounce back up. He lay there on his back gasping for air for a lot longer than the eight seconds he was supposed to be up on that horse. Darry remembered hearing a scream, and knew it had to be their mother. Speaking of the horse, it had made a break for it as soon as Soda was off its back and had to be corralled by the handlers while Soda struggled to get his breath back. He'd had the wind knocked out of him, is what Soda had said, and he could feel himself getting a concussion the moment he cracked his head on the ground.

But he eventually got his breath back. He'd been concussed before, and his thick skull was on the mend.

The same could not be said for his knee.

Darry silently went to sit on his own bed. Outside, the sun was up, and it was one of those last perfect days of summer. Soda would probably be able to walk around Will Rogers just fine, as long as he kept his knee wrapped up. Darry lightly kicked his brother's bed.

"How's things?"

Soda hummed a little and shrugged. He was itching for a cigarette, Darry could tell. "Oh, you know."

"Yeah," Darry whispered.

Then they fell quiet again.

Darry had felt horrible the whole week. He hated that his brother was hurt, yeah, but there was something nagging at him, something that was telling him that this was somehow all his fault, and he had come to confess. He had come to tell Soda that he had bet against him, that he had picked Dally to best his own brother, just because Darry was pissed off at him. And for what? Being alive? Fucking horses in his dreams? That wasn't Soda's fault.

It wasn't Soda's fault he was stuck in this town, either. But Darry had gone and tried to get one over on him – just a little one – and all it had got them was a night in the hospital and more medical bills because one of them was always in the hospital. They were seven stupid, stupid guys, and they only made each other stupider when they were together. The universe punished Darry for wanting to leave, for wanting to get away, by giving his family another expense to pay off.

The universe was nothing if not poetic.

Soda had cried. Once the shock wore off and he could breathe again, he lay in that sterile room and cried because it hurt and because their daddy was already thinking of not letting him ride anymore. Too risky. The ligament was too torn up. Darry could have hit the old man for saying that, and he'd never wanted to do so before.

"Guess Pony's got his in," Soda said weakly. He was trying to smile but even just saying that made his eyes watery. "Ya know, 'cause Dad said…said I can't – "

"I know," Darry said. "I know. I'm sorry."

It was his thing. It was Soda's thing. He would've let Pony have it, too, if he wanted, but not like this. Never like this.

It had been his.

"I know you are," Soda breathed. "Dally, though, he did good."

Darry shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, third place ain't nothin'."

"Sure ain't."

This was his fault. Darry could feel the guilt clawing at him, and he wanted to scream that he was the one who had jinxed Soda, that it was his fault he was laid up and hurting inside and out. It was his fault he'd never be the best at anything again. And then Darry wanted to jump in the Arkansas River because who the hell thinks such a thing about his own brother? (And why did he know it was still true?)

"Can I tell you somethin'?"

Soda sighed. "Sure."

"I had this weird dream."

Wait. That wasn't what he was supposed to say. Soda raised an eyebrow at him, but Darry knew he couldn't backtrack. "…what about?" Soda asked.

Darry sighed. "You'd just won your event. You came up to me and Pony and Mom and Dad and you were grinnin' real big, and you know what you said?" Soda shook his head. "You said that you were dating the horse."

Soda blinked. "What?"

Darry nodded real fast. "Uh-huh, yep. You were dating the horse you were ridin'. In love with her. And in another dream, you told me you two were fucking. You were having horse sex in my dreams, Soda. Horse sex in. My. Dreams."

There was no way to know how Soda was going to respond to that until he did. He stared at Darry for another few moments, then looked at his hands, and then he started laughing. "No shit? Horse sex in your dreams?"

"Horse sex in my dreams," Darry repeated, shaking his head and trying to hide a smile.

"Man, that's fuckin' weird," Soda cackled. "And even weirder is that you decided to tell me about it."

Darry smirked and threw up his hands. "Hey, pretty sure this is the first time ya smiled all week, so…"

Soda cocked his head, the grin not leaving his face. "Don't tell me you came in here just to cheer me up. That ain't you, Darrel Curtis. That ain't ever been you."

True. "Don't get used to it, then."

Soda winked at him; honest-to-God winked. "Trust me, I won't." He sighed. "Was she a good-lookin' mare, at least?"

Darry nodded. "Sure. Sure, she was. Because I would know," he said, popping Sodapop in the shoulder. "Idiot. What are you tryin' to say, askin' me somethin' like that?"

Sodapop held up his hands. "Hey, don't look at me! I was just jokin' – you're the one dreamin' up that shit. Maybe you're the one with the horsefucker problem."

Out of the corner of his eye, Darry saw their father stopping just outside their door and looking at them like they were nuts. "Excuse me?" He asked, and Soda whipped his head around.

"It's nothin', sir," Soda said, and even though their father knew that wasn't true and had probably heard every word, he just shook his head and kept walking. Just their luck he had been coming home for lunch these past few weeks. But then the two of them just started laughing again once he was out of earshot.

"God, I hate him right now," Soda muttered. "He's the one told me I couldn't ride anymore."

"I know," Darry said. Of course, he did. Darry really believed some days that he knew everything. At the very least, he knew everything his old man knew because Darrel Senior was always telling him. And something like Soda not being able to ride bronc anymore was sort of a family announcement, anyways. "It sucks, don't it?"

Soda watched his brother. He knew he shouldn't be here right now. He knew that he should be in Stillwater playing football and getting girls. That was how it was supposed to be; that had been the plan. Instead, Boy of the Year was sitting here, telling him about his horsefucker dreams.

And Soda was glad for it. He was glad his brother was here, and that was something he was going to be selfish about. He could lose the rodeo, no matter how much it killed him, but for God's sake he couldn't lose his brother. And if Darry went even an hour away, Soda knew they would.

But that didn't mean he didn't feel for the guy.

"Yeah," Soda whispered. "Yeah, it really does."

XXXXX

AN: Was that…okay?

Thanks for reading!