The judge says some other things before they start — about how they should dress, about showing up properly, about other things. Ponyboy's head buzzes with it all, wishing he could have some water, or a mint as the minutes draw out.
His bond tingles in the back of his head, and he wishes he could grip Dallas' hand, could make himself stop feeling fearful. Even looking at the other people there feels too much for him in this moment, his eyes fixed on the judge's sharp nose, at the glasses she wears that glints in the light until she finally declares that proceedings could actually begin.
As he expects, Eugene isn't the one who speaks first. His words from their meeting about how this trial would go run around in Ponyboy's head — it doesn't feel fair that even here, the Socs command everything first, come before they do. He clenches his thighs beneath the bench, watching the man with a handlebar mustache and red suit stand up first with a pensive look on his face that Ponyboy doesn't trust.
The man is cowboy like, only in the most superficial way with the bluster he has. The gait he has is confident, and Ponyboy doesn't trust him for anything. There's a huge belt on his waist with a buckle that shines, and he's clearly an alpha. And the shoes he have click with spurs on the bottom that he shouldn't even be wearing in court, yet had anyway.
Behind him, Two-Bit shifts in his seat, apparently not all that able to sit still either as the man says, "It's a pleasure to be in your court, your Honor. I am Norman Shaw, and my case will show that Robert Sheldon Jr., a young alpha boy who had everything to live for, everything going for him, was not only killed by the defendants, but was in fact the victim of a malicious, deliberate act born of barbarism and delinquency that we have seen growing within the teenage-set for some time." His voice has a turn to it that's more Hank Williams hokey to it that Ponyboy loathes with how thick it is. It's almost preacher like in the way he speaks, like one of those at a Pentecost. "This act is not, as they will say, one born out of defense from a helpless beta and omega — it is one that was clearly premeditated and unprovoked. It was an act that took away the life of a boy bursting with promise, all due to their own teen-age whims."
If Ponyboy could throw up on the spot, he would. He knows beside him that Johnny is probably thinking the same thing, with how pale he is, his fingers digging into the leg of his pants, arm pressing against the side of the wheelchair. That grip is so tight that Ponyboy can see him beginning to white knuckle it as Shaw continues on.
He can't make himself listen to his words as he gesticulates before him, his hands waving, his mustache quivering and jumping as he speaks. This lawyer really thinks he is some kind of cowboy the way his head tilts back, and the way his words drip out of his mouth. It's simpler for a moment to take in the details of Norm Shaw rather than whole phrases ("Mr. Adderson and Mr. Ducan's story will not line up with the one the defense will tell. They are not the kind of boys who would pick a fight to pick a fight —") as speaks: the fact that he's got a faded mating mark on his neck that pulses every so often, the way he adjusts his tie in the middle of his talk with thick fingers, the way he can move with surprising grace.
It's only when he sits down, tucking his jacket at his sides, that Ponyboy takes in the silence in the courtroom around him. It feels unnatural, the only sounds made are a soft cough from the back, the sound of a heater that's keeping them all cozy enough and the shuffling of papers.
He doesn't know how long it's been since he spoke, since they all had come in here. The clock is too far for him to read, and he didn't wear a watch. Ponyboy just knows that the first man is done.
Eugene stands up, in his own meticulously pressed suit, his glasses tucked in one pocket, his fingers tapping the table as he readies himself, approaching the bench. Ponyboy doesn't know what to expect from him either, glancing at Johnny, not trusting himself to look at his brothers.
Where Norm had gestured in front of him, Eugene doesn't do so. He puts his hands behind his back, and the smile on his face isn't necessarily welcoming — something about it feels confident, in a way that feels like a real bravado and charm to it.
"Your Honor, I am Eugene Hall, and today I have the esteemed pleasure of being the defense for Mr. Ponyboy Curtis and Johnny Cade," Eugene's voice is warm, and Ponyboy feels his ears grow hot, as eyes swivel to look at him in the courtroom. He tries to muster up the greaser pride he knows he's supposed to feel, the defiance, straightening up in his seat. If he's able to do it, Ponyboy doesn't know. "I understand that to your eyes, they may seem like two boys who are rather small, quiet, perhaps even omega-like. Boys who you perhaps would not look at twice if they were not here in these suits, with their hair combed in this manner. It isn't their normal style, you see."
Eugene turns, winks at them, and then turns back to the judge, rocking on his heels. "The facts in this case do not dispute the idea that they were not the same as the plaintiffs that night. They are very different in the way their lives are lived, in what they value, in their dynamics, in their families. It is, indeed, a fact that a boy was killed that night. It is a fact that this conflict arose from a teenage fight that we as adults, perhaps, don't quite understand. It is a fact that their dynamics and their respective spots on the pecking order were a factor." His voice climbs almost melodically, yet with a steel behind it that Ponyboy admires. "That is where things diverge; while the plaintiffs do agree on a fight and a death, the facts disagree with them on the manner of that night. It is a fact — a fact I will prove — that there was no premeditation in the death of Bob Sheldon. There was no deliberate act carried out by my clients that night, aside from the need to defend themselves, to live to see another hour."
If the judge agrees or disagrees, Ponyboy can't tell. He's holding his breath as Eugene continues, pacing in front of the judge. Eugene is younger than Norm, and something about it rubs off on his words as he continues, "No matter how we adults feel about the dispute between children, we can agree that every man, no matter who he is, no matter what side of the tracks he comes from, no matter what dynamic he is, no matter what clothes are on his back or aren't — he is entitled to defend his life, and the life of others. No more, no less." Eugene's words are heavy, straight to the point and he gives a nod. "Thank you."
He comes back around to the bench. Ponyboy gives a wan smile to him and Johnny's chair creaks as he leans to give him an affirmative look himself. That confidence doesn't leave his face, and Ponyboy knows they're going to need that confidence.
The judge looks at her watch. "As today is the first day, I understand that we're all having nerves. I am going to dismiss everyone early today — and will see you tomorrow. Be early, all parties, do not be on time. Do I make myself clear?"
Ponyboy murmurs out, Yes, ma'am and others say Yes, your Honor. He looks towards Johnny for the first time in a while, to see how his face still looks pale, distraught. Johnny doesn't look like himself with the way his hair's been combed into a Soccy way and Ponyboy knows that he only looks like anything resembling himself because of Molly. His eyes lock onto Ponyboy's — big, desperate, afraid — an all too familiar feeling at the moment. As they stand up, he moves behind to grip Johnny's wheelchair for him. They're made to wait as the Socs leave first, in a file. None of them look at them, and once they're through the doors, Eugene holds his hand out, counting his fingers until he gets to ten, and then he nods.
They move behind him, Eugene whispering to them, "You never file out right after the other party. They're going to linger, so I always give it about ten Mississippi's before we leave. I'll walk you to the front, and your families can get you there."
They walk through the doors in time for Ponyboy to see Cherry there, at the very back. He lets go of Johnny's wheelchair, allowing him to go to the corridor.
It's so fast that he wonders if Cherry sees him when she turns her head to look at him briefly with an unreadable expression. All that black she's wearing makes her look pale for once, not like a bright cheerleader who's boyfriend had something to him that she had liked, that she had defended.
They each hold their gaze for a moment — then she's out the door in a hurry. Ponyboy doesn't know what he feels as he watches her go — whether he wanted her to acknowledge Johnny in front of her, whether he could ask if she was going to keep her word, if she still thought about Dallas — he does know he feels when not a few seconds later that Dallas comes through the doors, his scent tinted with concern.
It's like a bubble burst in his chest, releasing all the tension there, washing over him in a calming, needing wave with such a force that Ponyboy is sure that the source is their mating bond. He breathes easier when Dallas comes into his vision and it's as if the world was filling in details now that he had the ability to pay attention — he hadn't realized earlier that Dallas was dressed in the same sleeveless black shirt from the night it had all happened, his brown sheepskin jacket draped over his shoulders, his boots clicking on the floor.
He doesn't get to them first, Darry and Soda emerging from the courtroom with Mrs. Mathews beside them. Eugene stands up to talk to them first, Dallas included.
Ponyboy takes the time to rub at his cheek, looking at Johnny as they talk. If there was any time to talk to just Johnny, this was it. "How — how do you think this is gonna go?"
"I don't know," Johnny's hands slap at his thighs the way they'd been in the church that first night, thinking about having a weed and trying to figure out what to do next, where to go from there. That was about as bad as things had gotten for them, and here they were, deeper in the mire. "I don't think we're gonna know."
His eyes shut, just like they had at the park, after Bob had been killed. This time, though, he's not shaking, drawing in a breath to be calm. Ponyboy isn't drenched, he's dry and it's him drawing in a breath to steady himself instead.
Even if they don't have a bond between them like Dallas and Ponyboy do, Ponyboy can feel a little twinge in the back of his head. That old connection they had before where they knew what the other was thinking and it's loud and clear that neither of them know how to anticipate anything else now.
All they can do is sit there for a moment, breathing, trying to come to terms with everything, until Darry and Soda make their way over. Darry claps his hand a little too hard on Ponyboy's shoulder, hsi face pinched and mouth in a grimace of a smile. "You did good in there."
Soda looks white as a sheet, his hand trembling, looking so timid. "We gotta — I gotta get to the DX." He licks at his lips, voice gentle. "If you want me — I can be late, I can take you to lunch and school if you want."
Any other time, Ponyboy would've chosen to go with Soda. At the moment, a feeling of trepidation feels him at this brother's faces, at how pinched and worried they are. It's his fault they're like this. "No, it's okay. Dallas can take us to school,"Ponyboy's eyes pull away from his brother's faces, unable to keep looking at them in this state, dropping towards the floor. "We'll be okay."
Soda reaches over, scenting Ponyboy carefully. His fingers sink into his neck, and Ponyboy relaxes a little as he does it, even though the back of his head twinges, wanting Dallas, wanting to be comforted by his mate, by something deeper. "I'll see you later, honey."
When Ponyboy looks up, he can see how worried Soda's face is. He looks away, not wanting to look at him too hard, swallowing his apology. "I'll see you guys later."
They both say their goodbyes to Johnny, and when Dallas and Two-Bit approach, Ponyboy stands up, wanting to be anywhere else, even for a little while. He sighs, and to his surprise, Eugene clears his throat, loosening his tie. "If you don't mind, I do have a good amount of time today. How about we do lunch on me today? It's your first time in court, and I know that isn't an easy thing for anyone." He glances at Dallas, already poised to grab Ponyboy, and back at them. "We can meet up at the place I have in mind in about ten minutes."
"Sure," Johnny speaks this time, and slowly, they all murmur in agreement.
Eugene gives the name of the restaurant, and Ponyboy finally is able to fall beside Dallas. Johnny takes the other side, Two-Bit in front of them.
All the way out, Two-Bit doesn't say anything, not until they're out in the mild weather. There's almost no one left in the parking lot aside from Ed, already on his motorbike, watching Eugene drive off on the road in an old Ford and Mrs. Mathews in her car. Ed nods at them, Two-Bit and Johnny making their way to their car.
Ponyboy walks with Dallas back to the car he'd borrowed from Buck. The convertible top is up, Ponyboy sitting in the passenger side, loosening his tie. He's not sure what he's going to say to Dallas when he gets in the car, doesn't know how —
— which is good, really when the first thing Dallas does is reach over and palm at the make up on Ponyboy's neck where the mating mark is. He's clearly trying to smear it off, his scent thick in the enclosed space as he drags Ponyboy in for a bruising kiss that they both need. It swallows up every word, every thought he has for the moment, the bond between them suddenly electric, felt in every bit of Ponyboy's body for a moment with the need they have for each other.
All Ponyboy can do for a few minutes is sink into the feeling, into the taste of Dallas' mouth, his tongue, the feeling of his hair in Ponyboy's fingers.
He's safe here, held by Dallas, kissing in front of the courthouse if only for a moment.
and we're back! thank you guys so much for reading, commenting, and kudos-ing this fic. i love every single interaction i get, and i'll see you guys in about two or three weeks for the next update!