A/N: I don't own The Outsiders, written by S.E. Hinton, nor any of the mentioned character. I also do not own the song Tom Sawyer, written by Geddy Lee and performed by the band Rush.

This oneshot ties directly in with chapters five and six of Day to Day, but I suppose you don't need to be one-hundred per cent familiar with it to get it. Enjoy! :) Reviews are love.

A modern day warrior/Mean mean stride/Today's Tom Sawyer/Mean mean pride

A lot of things fly with me. Swear at me all you want, it's quite all right with me. Swear at me, around me, whatever. What about beating up on me? That's perfectly okay, too, mostly because, let's be honest here ... I can take a lot of guys. I like fights. I'm proud, and I'm probably pretty goddamned arrogant. There was that one time I punched Steve and broke his jaw for calling me "All brawn and no brains". That didn't go over well. He wouldn't talk to me for a month, even if he could. I think because, unlike his dad who always apologized for being such a shit, I didn't. I had no reason to.

But I forgave Steve pretty quickly, though, even if no "sorry's" were exchanged. After all, I love the guy like my brother. That doesn't excuse calling me what he did, though.

What about the things that don't fly with me, though? The unforgivables, the unforgettables. You'd be hard pressed to find a guy that walked out okay after making me that mad. Tim, he's no exception.

I wouldn't have cared if Tim Shepard ripped out each one of my stitches that day. The only thing I cared about was knocking that bastard to the ground and making him cry. That's all I wanted, really.

It took me three days after everything happened to find out where Tim was. I had no idea where he was hiding, what he was up to. I used Steve's help to find him. Steve seems to know where every shady character in Tulsa lives nowadays. I refused to tell Steve what exactly I was up to, but I think he got the gist of things when he saw the scar on my shoulder, and Two-Bit filled him in on things. Steve gets things real well. He's one of the smartest guys I know, and he'll get a buddy out of anything if he needs to. He's always up for a good prank, too. According to Ponyboy, a week after I got to Tim, he found his tires slashed and his hubcaps lifted.

Good ole Steve.

I had everything planned out: I'd finish up work first. Go home, fix myself up, then go find Tim and make him ever regret crossing me. I made Steve regret calling me that name, I made a Soc regret hurting my brother's feelings as a kid. Now I was going to make Tim Shepard hurt.

According to Steve, Tim was fixing to ship out some illegals from an old warehouse near the boarder of town. I think they were shipping out guns, but what did that matter, anyway? I wasn't going to be involved in them anymore. No sirree.

I drove up to the factory and, as expected, there was Tim, smoking. Here's the thing about Tim -- he's everything I hate in a person. He's a narcissistic bastard and anyone who doesn't like him can go die. He acts like he owns the town, and he is so much Holier than Thou. I used to respect him, but after that ... I wouldn't give him the time of day.

When I saw Tim out there, I swear, ever muscle in my body that ever ached suddenly tensed. I rolled my shoulders and looked over at Steve. He met my stare and shrugged.

"Ready?"

I nodded. Oh, yeah. I was ready. "Let's get this fucker."

Steve grinned. We both liked fights. Steve fought with people because he hated them -- I fought because I was proud. Right now, though, someone had flipped that. Steve was the proud one, trying to prove that he wasn't a desperate junkie anymore. I just hated Tim. God, I hate him.

We stepped out of the car and made our way over. For a minute, I wished I did play dirty, fight like the old uptown gangs. They used brass knuckles, chains, and pipes. We just used fists, and, if we really needed to, blades. They were more for show, though, and none of us ever fought anymore, probably for the better, anyway.

When Tim saw us coming up, both Steve and I cracking our knuckles, I think he knew what was coming to him. Tim's not stupid, by any means of the imagination. He knows the score. But watching me and Steve Randle getting ready to beat someone like that, I think that's a pretty scary sight in general. But Tim, he just tossed his cigaretee and smiled calmly at us. That just made me angrier.

As I neared Tim, he opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't give him the time to say it. I knocked him right in the face, and Tim stepped back for a minute looking shocked. Good. I hope it hurt, you sonofabitch. This time, rather than say anything, Tim raised his fist and got me right in the gut.

Now it was Steve's turn. Steve jumped on Tim and began whaling on him, raising his fists and pounding them into Tim. Steve fought like an angry animal, getting at every spot he could think of. Tim got Steve a few times in the stomach, but Steve kept on. Once I regained my composure, I joined in, too. I kicked Tim down on the ground and hit him right in the groin. Then, once I got Steve off of him, I pulled Tim up to the ground by his shirt.

I raised my fist and hit him in the jaw. "That's for thinking you could screw with us." I kneed him in the groin. "That's for my shoulder." I hit him as hard as I could in the stomach. "That's for almost getting me arrested." Finally, I shoved Tim down to the ground once more and kicked him in the ribs a few times. Steve joined in, too, and we watched Tim wince and fight back. I think, though, that we must have broken something, because Tim couldn't stand too well on his left foot.

"Tim, if you ever do another dick move like that, I won't beat you up. I'll fucking kill you."

I left Tim to think that over and got into my car with Steve. We drove off, listening to Steppenwolf. Neither of us talked for the ride, we just thought. There'd probably be reprecussions to beating Tim like that, but neither of us cared. Tim Shepard could rot for all I cared.

When we got home, all I could do was grin. Pony was sitting on the front steps smoking and talking to some girl. He looked at me, and I guess I had a bloody nose or something, because he asked, "What's wrong?" and looked really worried.

I just grinned and Steve smacked Ponyboy playfully on the back of the head. We probably scared the shit out of the poor girl. But goddamn, I felt good. It was a beautiful day out, and Tim wouldn't enjoy it. That was all I needed to brighten my day.

Exit the warrior/Today's Tom Sawyer/ He gets high on you/And the energy you trade
He gets right on to the friction of the day