Pony hated the stuff. Sunscreen, that is. The gooey texture, the way it made him feel greasy (and not in the way he intends to look greasy), and the smell. Johnny always harassed the gang into putting the stuff on, much to everyone's amusement, and this summer was no different. After he had gotten out of the hospital and finished physical therapy (he would always walk with a limp), Johnny had been thrusting the bottle of sun lotion at everyone who walked out of the damn door.
But Ponyboy was an early riser when he's determined, and he was determined to get out without having goo all over his face.
So he skipped putting the sunscreen on, and spent the entire day without it, much to Johnny's distress.
He woke up wanting to scream. "Ponyboy?" Soda asked.
"Mmph." His back hurt so badly he couldn't do anything but turn over.
Sodapop sighed, "I'll get Johnny," he said, walking out of the room. He paused in the doorway. "You know he's trying to look out for us, Pone, you'd best behave."
"I know," Pony whimpered.
Soon enough, Johnny was by his side, holding a bottle of something else goopey and a book in the other. "You were out all day without protection, now look at your skin," He tsked worriedly.
"My back is on fire," Pony moaned.
"Well," Johnny quipped, "I know from personal experience that that's not a fun feeling. Come on, take off your shirt."
"You didn't even buy me dinner yet," Pony grumbled, struggling to take off the offending article of clothing, "What kind of a greaser do you think I am, Johnny Cade?"
"A burnt one," Johnny snickered, opening the tube of stuff and motioning for him to lay down again.
"And people say you're the sweet one."
"I am. You're the toasty one, remember?"
"Har, har-JOHNNY!" Pony shrieked as his friend's hand, covered in aloe, smacked onto his back unexpectedly.
"Yeah?"
"That's fuckin' cold, man!"
"Aw, I wasn't that mean, was I?"
"You're too snarky when you're mad."
"You're too stupid when you're burnt. Next time, put on the lotion, or I ain't gonna bring the aloe again."
"Yessir."