:3 Johnny's a bit... uh... queer in this fic. No pun intended.

Awright. 3rd time's the charm, right? X3;; I never know what I want to say in the pre-notes section anymore... In terms of reviews: no Japanese; if in Spanish, stay simple; I don't mind one-liners as long as they take up the WHOLE LINE. Not counting chat-smiles. XD Anyway, I'm lenient with reviews despite my talk, so you won't get flamed, punished, or burned at the heading of the next update if you don't listen. o.o I always find that last one over-the-edge, even if they deserved it...

Johnny Cade was a dreamy sort of boy, wide-eyed and full of wonderment at the world. He certainly had the biggest eyes, black, shiny things full of curiosity that helped to make him look younger for his age. He wasn't as hardened as a lot of people by sixteen. Every event in his lifetime, even moving to a brand new place out of the blue as he had just done now, seemed to add to his understanding and want to get to know his world better. He was a hit with the girls; they cooed and fussed over him just as his mom surely did, yet he'd barely had a chance to say two words to any of them yet. Somehow, he was the same age as "Mike", aka Ponyboy, and he noted with dull disinterest that Johnny looked twelve and not sixteen.

What a newbie, MP thought with a bothered nod towards Bryon. Unfortunately, his friend hadn't caught his we-need-to-talk signal because, not surprisingly, he and his girlfriend had been making out where they sat across the room. It was a wonder the teacher hadn't broken them up yet, but maybe that was because there was no use; they'd be submerged again in no time.

MP shivered slightly, feeling the hard glare of Dallas Winston on his back. It sucked bad enough that he'd been held back and was in half of his classes, but the fact that he was showing an interest - not in a friendly manner, mind you - in the new boy was enough to make MP want to gag.

Finally, the teacher was done telling Johnny a load about how friendly and wonderful and safe (here he heard even Dallas snort) their lovely school was and had started telling Bryon and Cathy off. Johnny meanwhile made his way down the rows of desks before sitting beside MP, the first thing he said being, "So, we got a kid named Ponyboy in this class?"

Johnny had a soft voice, but Dallas managed to hear and was currently hooting and hollering, engrossed in a fit of raucous laughter. People turned to look, unaware of what had set him off. Johnny seemed not to notice, though, instead waiting for Mike (who was secretly said Ponyboy) to speak.

Pony-Mike cleared his throat, blushing over Dallas's laughter before murmuring so low only they could hear.

"Er... present. But it's Mike, okay? Watch it with the Ponyboy stuff. I have a reputation, you know."

Johnny looked confused, and just beneath his low-cut bangs Pony-Mike could see his eyebrows were knit together in a worried crease.

"But... that's your name, isn't it?"

MP rolled his eyes. Was the new kid really that naive? "Yeah, but most kids don't know that." He paused, thinking. "And how do you, anyway?"

Johnny shrugged. "It was on the attendance sheet."

By this time Dallas was just barely beginning to reign himself in, the teacher having turned his back on the two lovebirds (who were, yet again, sucking face) to glare at him.

"Mr. Winston, just what is so funny?"

Dallas gave a last hysteric snicker. "Ponyboy," he said. "Mike" visibly twitched.

-

In the late afternoon, as the busses were pulling away and the older kids were getting in their cars, Pony began the trudge homeward when a familiar, childish voice called out to him.

"Pon-I mean, Mike!"

He stifled an irritated grimace. He could have pretended to ignore it, since Johnny's voice was so soft, but the other boy came bounding up anyway, smiling as bright and cheerily as ever.

"Hey, Pony!" he gasped, being forgetful with his name again. "Why don't we walk home together?"

MP eyed him warily. "Sure," he mumbled. "Whatever."

For being so quiet during class, the kid sure could talk. It was probably the effect of holding it all in for so long. Mike could feel himself wince every time he called him "Ponyboy". Halfway through Johnny even forgot to keep adding a quick apology.

"Hey!" he said, suddenly. Pony ground his teeth; they were right outside his house.

"What?"

"Who's that crazy boy? The blonde one who was laughing at you?"

It was vague, but then Johnny didn't have to be specific; he didn't get laughed at by stupid blonde boys everyday. MP had a mild feeling that this was the reason Johnny had followed him home in the first place. Ignoring that it was a pretty stupid reason and a waste of his damn time, he replied, "You mean Dallas?"

"Was he held back?" Johnny plowed on. "He looks too old to be in our grade."

Pony's expression changed considerably. Perhaps it was out of pity, but then again, perhaps it was just exhaustion from the questionnaire.

"Look, kid," he sighed. "Don't you go near him. That Dallas Winston is trouble. He'll touch you."

Johnny frowned, caught off by the blunt warning. "Oh," he said, inaudibly. "I just thought he looked cool."

"And another thing." By now, Ponyboy had started the trek to his front door. Upon arriving, he turned to Johnny with a hooded glance.

"Enough with the Ponyboy stuff. It's Mike. Hell, even Michael's fine."

"But that's not your name," Johnny urged.

MP glared at him and said, haughtily, "It is, actually. I just prefer my middle name, is all."

Johnny wasn't defeated yet, though. "But there are millions of Johns and millions of Mikes, and as far as I know only one Ponyboy! Wouldn't you rather be one in a million?"

Mike - or Pony, whoever he was - glanced hesitantly at the door of his house, struggling with a choice; leave then and there, break off the conversation, or settle it.

"To be one in a million," he whispered, so that Johnny just barely caught it, "is exactly what I'm afraid of."

-

"Hi."

Dallas looked up from his lighter, switching it off as he took a puff from his cigarette.

"Um... hi."

He vaguely recognized the boy standing in the entrance of the alleyway - that was the new kid, right? Johnny something?

"You're Dally Winston, right? I'm Johnny Cade."

Dallas eyed him warily. "It's Dallas. And who wants to know?"

Johnny shrugged, ignoring the fact Dallas had just contradicted himself. "Why weren't you in school today?"

"Yeah well," Dallas sneered defensively, "why are you here? Shouldn't you be heading home to your mommy?"

Johnny stared on.

"Look, kid." Dallas straightened up, putting his cigarette out on the wall behind him. It hissed slightly as he ground it mercilessly into the brick. He imagined it was screaming. "You'd be better off staying away from me. I'm sure your golden boy Michael or whatever he's calling himself now, it's always something different with that kid..." He was getting off-track. "Well, he warned you about me, right?"

Johnny bored into him with his big, permanently started eyes, as if seeing through him. Maybe he was. "I don't believe you're really a bad person."

It wasn't a pity statement. It was a fact. Still, the boldness of his resilience caught Dallas off guard.

"Oh, really? You know the kind of stuff I usually do to kids like you?" He took a step away from the wall. Johnny didn't budge; to anyone else it would have been threatening. But, as far as Dallas could see, Johnny wasn't like anyone else. Maybe he even saw it as a challenge.

"No," he replied, truthfully. "I honestly don't. Not the full story, anyway. But I'll tell you what I do think; those are all rumors. People like to believe that homosexual equals pedophile, and you're just playing along for attention."

Dallas didn't object, but just stared at him, shocked. Nobody ever talked to him like that. Not his father as he cursed his existence through the slur of alcohol or the guys down at the station when they got him for any of his numerous crimes, and sure as hell not some squirt like this. He narrowed his eyes.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?"

To his surprise, instead of flinching or running, Johnny's shoulders relaxed, his smile oddly serene. Crooked, but upbeat all the same.

"Just an irritating new kid who asks too many questions, I reck'n."

Dallas scowled. You got that right.

With a sigh, the eighteen-year-old settled back into his position against the brick, suddenly feeling tired and not up to a chase. He was in need of another cigarette, as he'd wasted the first and was now regretting it. As he lit another one up, he spoke.

"Well, it seems you got yourself pinned." He didn't even look at the kid, instead bringing the cancer-stick to his lips. "Why don't you take your friend's advice and buzz off already?"

Johnny grinned. "So we're friends?"

The tow-headed teen cussed, fumbling with his cigarette after accidentally burning his finger. This kid was just chock full of surprises. And he was really beginning to hate that.

"No," Dallas spat, "I was talking about Ponyboy-Michael-Frieda-Jorge."

Johnny cocked his head to the side, brown eyes blazing.

"But Ponyboy didn't advise me. He told me. You were the one who said I'd be 'better off'. That is usually an indication of a request, not a command." He beamed, unfazed.

But as several silent seconds ticked by, Johnny was beginning to wonder if he was laying it on too thick. It was nearly four minutes since Dallas had said anything. Even after taking a long drag off of his smoke, he didn't seem to want to. Until finally, when he had lowered his voice to no more than a rough whisper, he growled in an animalistic way, "You get outta' here."

The point was taken. But even as little Johnny Cade rounded the corner and nearly sprinted home (school had ended ages ago, and his mother would be wondering why he hadn't gotten back from his walk yet) he couldn't help but remind himself that Dally hadn't actually said no.