Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.
A/N: Another big, fat thank you to Al for betaing.
XXX
December 7, 1963
Roger Boyd was a fat, lazy fuck—you could tell from the moment Mom introduced him to the three of you. He was so big that he probably only owned two t-shirts due to the inability to find anything that big. His hand was outstretched, apparently he was waiting on you to shake it, and you wondered if it was even worth it to try to play nice.
"Timothy," Mom whispered. You were never much for authority figures—mouthing off to cops had landed you with a few blunt objects over the head—but this was Mom. It wasn't because she was your mother that you ended up shaking the no-good, freeloading pig's hand; it was because she had your respect
"I've heard a lot about you, son."
Hell no; this was the first and last time Roger fucking Boyd was ever going to call you son. Dropping your hand from his, you glanced over to your mother, who was already shifting Roger in Curly and Angela's direction before you could say anything stupid enough to call off the whole damn wedding.
It was funny you hadn't heard anything about him until last week. Watching the idiot try to squat down to eye level of your brother and sister. Telling them that Mom was getting married wasn't your idea of a good time. Curly asked if Dad was back and that got Angela all excited, thinking she'd actually get to meet the ol' man. They both wanted to know why when you told it was someone else, and it was the first time in a long time there wasn't an answer that'd make them feel better.
"We'll be getting married in a few months." Mom smiled as Roger struggled to get back on his feet. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from telling Roger that Mom's smile was fake—that she'd never be happy with a shithead like him so he should probably just fuck off. You had a funny feeling Roger had no idea of how sick she really was, that she was getting more and more sick as the years past. Mom put her hand on Roger's shoulder before he turned back to you.
"We'd like for you to be the best man, Tim," he said just as formally as his words were before. It was as if everything was scripted and he didn't mean a single word he'd said. There was no expression on his face, not even a smile, and that's when you decided Roger Boyd was no good for your Mom or your family. You already wanted him out; his permanent scowl was already annoying you.
Best man. Holding back a laugh, you glanced Mom who was still smiling. With a sigh, you gave the guy a slight nod before telling them there was somewhere you needed to be and left the house that had always been the Shepard home and always would be.
XXX
Rita Mitchell had been going to school with you and Marty since the sandbox was the coolest place in the classroom. She had never caught your attention before; hell, you could count on one hand how many times there had been a conversation. It was a shame at this point, watching her… Well, to be honest, you weren't sure what she was doing. Hustling the guy in front of her, perhaps. Whispering in his ear before sliding something into his hand…
Even though you barely knew her, it was still common knowledge that she was very popular. Everyone adored her; in fact, you'd never heard one bad thing about her in all the years she'd been around.
"Whaddya know about Rita Mitchell?" you asked Marty before taking a sip of your beer. Marty looked over at Rita and smirked, as if he had a lot to say about her.
Marty was social sonuvabitch, not to say that you weren't, but Marty got along with everyone and their dog. He was the nicest guy you knew, and there was a reason why he was your best friend and had been since kindergarten when he wore an entire rain suit, pants and all, on the first day of school. Naturally, being summer, you asked him about his choice in clothing, and he bragged that nobody told Martin Fox what he could wear.
"I know she's only interested in older guys." Marty grinned and took a sip of his own drink. "You do know she's your gang leaders step-sister, right?"
Marty wasn't a fan of you being in the Crawford Gang. Said if you died he'd bring you back just so he could shove his foot up your ass. Ben said Marty wasn't "gang material", but you'd rather have him watching your back than anyone who was supposed to. You knew Wayne's stepfather had left and that he had a few older siblings locked away; hell, you even knew he had two stepsisters—Rita and Anne—but you didn't know Rita was the same Rita who sat beside you in history class. It was a well-kept secret for a reason.
"What?" You glanced at Marty who had a shit eating grin plastered on his face, which could only mean one thing: it was no mystery why he knew half the shit he did. "You fucked her, didn't you?"
"I don't kiss and tell." Marty's grin grew wide, as he took another sip of his drink. Hell would freeze over before he didn't tell someone about his exploits.
"Like hell you don't."
"Not that I haven't tried. I don't think I make the age requirement, but her sister, man… that girl is a lot of fucking fun."
With a chuckle, you shook your head before getting off the barstool. You told Marty you'd be right back and sauntered over to Rita who was casually leaning up against the wall, watching the pool game carefully.
"I'm dating someone," she told you almost immediately. And to think people thought your ego was big…
"I don't remember asking. " You chuckled as a smirk formed on her lips. She turned and stared at you with a rather unimpressed look on her face, arms crossed in front of her.
"I'm not stupid, Tim. Your friend Marty over there just told you who my stepbrother is. I know this because in eleven years you've said ten words to me," she rattled on.
"Now you're either over here to legitimately hurt me, or you're planning on using me in some diabolical plot you thought up thirty seconds ago because you just realized how big of a fuck my brother is. And since I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, I'm banking on the second one."
You had to smile. You hadn't given her enough credit. She was smart as a whip and had to be in order to be the con artist that she was, assuming what you'd seen from her was the tip of the iceberg. She nodded at you knowingly before turning back to the game of pool.
"Besides, it'd take much more than a thirty second plan," she said in a quieter voice. "Wayne may seem like a dumb fuck but he wouldn't still have his gang and be breathing if he were, would he?"
She made one hell of a first impression; it was no wonder why people loved her so much. She'd certainly proved she knew what the fuck was up.
You noticed that Ben was fast approaching; there was this sudden nagging in the back of your mind that said he knew what you were up to, that you were trying to find a way to get rid of Wayne. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you shook your head as Rita smirked at you again.
"Nervous?" she asked with that mischievous grin spread across her face. You half-wondered if she was going to say something that would put you six feet under in a blink. You were about to tell her to shut the fuck up but held your tongue when Ben put an arm around her waist. The older man myth must've been true. She let out a laugh at your expense and turned to Ben.
"We were just talking about how excited we are to graduate next year. Ain't that right, Tim?"
You nodded slightly and could only assume she didn't want Wayne knowing what she really thought of him.
XXX
When you finally got out of Buck's, you found yourself yet again in the passenger seat of Ben's car. Apparently you were making a surprise visit to Warren Thomas. The sorry sonuvabitch still hadn't paid off his accumulating debt, and there was a thrill in going somewhere and knowing that you were going to win.
"Why hasn't Wayne kicked your head in?" you asked, referring to Rita. Ben smirked as you made our way out of your territory and into the Tiger neighborhood.
"He ain't like us, Tim," he said, making a sharp turn. "He doesn't care about family; all he cares about is Wayne. He could give two shits about Rita or Anne."
It wasn't something that you could comprehend. Sure, you were a cold-hearted prick, but at the end of the day, you still came home to family. They were all that mattered, and maybe that was why it seemed way off base for another person not to care period.
"Keep the people you love in your life, man. They keep you sane. Once they're gone, you'll just be another Wayne Crawford, and you'll eventually wind up dead and alone."
Apparently Ben loved Rita Mitchell and you guessed it wasn't so hard to understand.
He pulled into a parking lot a block away from what was assumed to be Warren's house. "Are you sure he's gonna be alone?" you asked as the two of you crossed the street.
"I'm sure."
The last thing you wanted was to be ambushed on Tiger territory; they'd probably kill you. But worst of all, you hated not knowing what was going to happen next. Ben was calling all the shots, and as much as you liked and trusted him, it still made you more than uneasy.
"We'll be in and out," Ben said nonchalantly as you stopped in front of an old worn down house. The white paint was chipped, revealing the color it had been previously painted, and the fence was leaning to one side. Toys were scattered around the front lawn.
You didn't want to be here, it made Warren seem like an actual human being. There were kids in that house, and you really fucking hoped Ben didn't have to do anything to rash because you didn't trust yourself enough not to stop him.
Before you knew it, though, Ben was kicking in the front door, and you were right behind him. Warren awoke almost immediately, shoving his kid brother and sister upstairs before thinking to grab something to defend himself with. This could have easily been you and it made your stomach churn. Swallowing the lump in your throat and ignoring the kid's crying, you watched as Ben pulled Warren by his hair and threw him against the floor so hard you heard it crack.
He kicked him a few times in the ribs as you glanced back up at the two kids who were just a little younger than Curly and Angela. They were holding each other, screaming for Warren, and to think you were a part of why they were upset. Kids were different; they didn't deserve to see this and they definitely didn't deserve to be as scared as they were.
Ben squatted down next to Warren, whose nose was definitely broken, then pulled out a gun and pushed it up against Warren's temple.
"Where's the money, Warren?" Ben asked, through gritted teeth. You'd never seen him this mad; it stopped you from saying anything, and it turned the kids' crying into quiet whimpers.
"Fuck you," Warren spat, blood coming from his mouth. Ben bashed his head against the floor once more. You had to admit Warren Thomas had some fucking balls saying that with a gun pointed to his head. Maybe he was just plain stupid.
"Don't make me shoot you in front of these kids. You know I will. Where's the fucking money?"
Ben was almost yelling now and Warren's breathing was so heavy that the familiar sound of someone choking on their own blood filled the room.
"The closet… in my room," Warren coughed. Ben looked at you and shifted his head upstairs, signaling you to go check it out.
You moved quickly, wanting to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible, but the terrified looks on kids' faces caught your attention. You stopped and sighed, looking down at Ben, seeing him continue to threaten Warren.
"It's gonna be alright," you told the kids, knowing it probably didn't make them feel a whole lot better. The little boy stared at you for a second and you could feel the hate pouring out of him.
"Are you going to kill my brother?" he sniffled as his sister continued to cry.
"No."
You didn't know if that was entirely true or not. One thing you did know, though, was that you weren't specifically going to kill the guy. The little boy kept staring at you, not knowing if he should believe you or not.
"Promise?"
Glancing down at the kid, you sighed. It was weird how almost all kids worked the same, like a promise would make everything go away or a band-aid would stop the pain.
"I promise."
XXX
When you finally left the Tiger turf and got Wayne his goddamned money, Ben lit up a cigarette outside the old warehouse where the gang met up, or crashed when they were too drunk to remember their names. Digging out your own pack, you hadn't realized how pissed off you were until now.
"I ain't doing anything around kids ever again," you told Ben, lighting a cigarette. You weren't asking permission; you didn't give a fuck that you'd only been there a few months, it was the line that you weren't crossing ever again. Ben sighed and patted you shoulder.
"If Wayne gives you the ultimatum between your family or someone else's, who are you gonna pick, Tim?"
He ashed his cigarette and looked at you for a legitimate answer, even though he already knew what it would be. Wayne Crawford wasn't just threatening you; he was threatening everyone, including Ben.
XXX
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