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“You’re flat fucking stupid you know that?” Angela snaps, dragging Curly inside by his ear after checking to make sure Tim’s not around. She shoves him onto a chair and grabs the first aid kit from the bathroom. Curly’s got a gash on his head that’s bleeding like a stuck pig and the last thing they need is for Tim to find out about his latest stupid stunt. It’s a good thing Curly’s got the thickest skull of anyone she’s ever met because the header he took trying to slide down the banister at school ain’t no joke.
“What possessed you?” she scolds, dumping alcohol on a rag and rubbing it over the gash none too gently. Curly tries to pull away but she’s cleaned up enough of his injuries that she expects it and holds on tight to a handful of his hair to stop him moving away.
“C’mon Angel,” he groans, wincing a little as the alcohol no doubt burns like a motherfucker, “Pony said no one could do that banister and I wanted to prove him wrong.”
“What is it with you pulling stupid shit around that kid, huh? I swear to god if I didn’t know better I’d say you were actin’ like you got a crush the way you’re always doing dumb shit tryin’ to impress him.”
Suddenly, Curly goes very still, swallowing harshly.
Carefully, very carefully Angela lets her hands slide out of Curly’s hair, puts the rag on the table. She hadn’t meant anything by it, honest, but now that she thinks about it it makes a little too much sense.
“Curly…”
“Don’t.”
“Curly I-”
“I said
don’t
, Angel,” he rounds on her with a snarl, and it's a look she’s seen on Tim’s face too many times to not recognize it as somewhere between hopeless and terrified and determined to hide it, “I mean it. Ain’t
none
of your business.”
He snatches up the half bloody rag and storms off to their room, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving Angela alone with her thoughts.
**************
The truth of the matter is, as much as some people hate to admit it, Curly Shepard isn’t half as stupid as people think he is. In fact, he’s pretty smart, since Angela knows he only really started playing dumb when he realized he could get away with a lot more that way. But the one thing that has always made Curly flat fucking stupid, no matter where he is or how old he gets is Ponyboy Curtis.
Those two were like baking soda and vinegar, always had been- fine by themselves but explosive and messy as shit when they were together. Curly’s an attention seeker at the best of times, a perfect culmination of both mommy and daddy issues, but around Ponyboy he turns it into an art form. It’s not surprising really, now that Angela thinks about it, that Curly is practically in love with the guy. Ever since they first met, Curly could never stand not having Ponyboy’s eyes on him and nowhere else at all times and he’d always do anything to make sure that happened. First it was climbing that telephone pole, then playing chicken with the cigarettes, then getting piss drunk during school. There was the grasswalkers incident, and the haircut incident, and the arson incident, all of which Ponyboy had had a front seat for. Whatever braincells their Pa hadn’t managed to smash outta Curly’s thick skull seemed to go on vacation anytime Ponyboy was within 10 feet of him. Honestly, Angela should’ve noticed this years ago.
Then again, she supposes Curly hid it kind of well. Or at least tried to throw everyone off the scent, so to speak. Like her, Curly has always been a slut. As soon as he figured out what his dick could do he’d started sticking it in anyone who’d let him- and he wasn’t known for being particularly choosy about the gender of said partners, something that terrified Tim half to death. Angela understood- gay bashing in Tulsa wasn’t any sort of joke, and Curly was already in the cooler enough that he hardly needed to start adding sodomy charges to that rap sheet of his. Still, Curly would fuck anything that moved but he’d left her damn sure he’d never actually cared about any of them. She’d always been nosy, always asked, and he told her pretty much everything because that’s just how things were, which is how she knows he never really cared about anyone before this.
He likes Ponyboy though. Proper likes him. That much is obvious.
It’s sweet in a way, but dangerous, too dangerous. It’s not just that he could get in trouble with the police or paint an even bigger target on his back- both of those are issues Shepards just learn to deal with- but the fact that Curly has always been a touch obsessive, cares recklessly the way he is reckless about everything, leaving his heart vulnerable in ways Angela can’t even begin to fathom. Curly has given Ponyboy Curtis the power to destroy him and it’s so so dangerous.
She refuses to let it happen.
She lets it go for a few weeks. Curly has always spent a frankly uncommon amount of time around the youngest Curtis, but lately it's more than ever, and now that she knows why it's hard not to see it. They’re not half as subtle as they think they are, dumbass fifteen year old boys with their unearned egotism and Curly’s unmatched ability to pick a fight with anyone, and there's no way their dalliance won’t end in disaster. It takes Sylvia about five seconds to realize what’s going on when she sees them laughing together at the Dingo, and Tim knew before her, Angela can tell, based on the tightness in his shoulders every time Curly comes home bright eyed after doing nothing more interesting than watching the high school track practice.
The week after Tim catches Curly and Ponyboy trying to climb through Curly’s window is the week Angela decides it’s time she had a little talk with Ponyboy Curtis. Curly’s in too deep, it’s clear, likes him too much the way he’s always liked him too much, since he was a kid in kindergarten dumping worms down Ponyboy’s shirt to make him squeal. Which is fine- let Curly have his fun. Let him be his obsessive, reckless self. It ain't like he’s ever going to change, and she’s not stupid enough to make him try. She’s always been willing to do anything to protect him, and this is no different. If Curly wants to snog Ponyboy Curtis that’s fine- so long as Ponyboy Curtis knows that if he so much as breathes wrong in Curly’s direction she’ll gut him like a fish.
She knows Curly won’t like her talking to Ponyboy, but that won’t be a problem since Curly won’t ever find out- at least as long as she has something to say about it.
It’s no secret she’s never been a fan of Ponyboy Curtis, or any of the Curtis’ in general. She’s self aware enough to know it stems from two parts jealousy and one part straight up annoyance, but it doesn’t make it any less true. She’s cordial, because Tim’s got a weird truce with the big one, and Ponyboy has always existed in her periphery because of Curly, and because she likes Steve Randle enough to be able to have a conversation with Sodapop- but that’s it. Until now she’s never once sought out a Curtis directly, but Ponyboy isn’t exactly hard to track down.
Boys. They’re all so predictable.
Curly’s off doing deliveries for Tim, something she knows Ponyboy would never get caught near, not since his folks died and his brother can only keep custody if Ponyboy plays right with the law.
The DX gas station is bustling when she shows up, and she swears every desperate broad in school is standing around giggling where Sodapop Curtis is rummaging under the hood of some socy mustang. She rolls her eyes as she makes her way inside. She’ll never understand the appeal of the Curtis boys.
Steve is behind the counter when she walks in, arguing with another of his gang, Two-bit Matthews who's sitting on the icebox, while Ponyboy Curtis sits drinking a pepsi, casual as you please.
“Angela,” Steve offers her a nod.
“Steve,” she can’t help but grin a little. Steve Randle digs better than anyone else in the Curtis gang, and he’s one of the only boys who likes her more as a person than a piece of meat, “how’s business?”
He snorts, “you saw the parking lot on your way in didn’t you?”
“Booming ain’t it,” she drawls, tossing a pack of Marlboros and a pack of gummy bears on the counter. He’d probably turn a blind eye if she lifted them, but she doesn’t want him to get in trouble with his boss, “that friend of yours must be a treat with cars.”
It’s no secret that Steve is the real car whisperer, and that Soda is eye candy more than anything. Steve snorts as he rings her up. “Yeah. Cars.”
She grins, sharing the joke and his slight bitterness. The thing about Steve Randle is that the two of them can say a whole lot of nothing and still have a half decent conversation. But she’s getting distracted. As fun as he is, Steve isn’t why she’s here. So she offers him a nod of thanks and turns to his buddies.
“Curtis,” she says to Ponyboy and his redheaded friend, who are watching her and Steve with thinly veiled curiosity. She holds up her freshly purchased cigarettes “want a smoke?”
Her tone makes it clear she’s not asking. Even though he’d never admit it she can tell he’s slightly intimidated- those eyes of his hide nothing. Still, he doesn’t protest, just hops up from the freezer, shoulders slouched, and follows her outside.
She hands him a cigarette and he lights up, pushing a strand of auburn hair out of his face as he does so. She lights one of her own, considering him, trying and failing to see whatever Curly apparently sees in him. He’s got the same prettyboy looks as his older brother, but with darker hair and slightly different eyes, and a reputation for being a pretty decent guy, but not much else.
“So,” she says, exhaling a mouthful of smoke, “you and Curly.”
His green eyes sharpen and he takes a drag of his own. “What about it?”
He’s trying to be tough but she can see the slightly panicked look in his eye as he surreptitiously but frantically looks to make sure no one around is within earshot. She has to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. She’s not an idiot. She wouldn’t put Curly in danger like that.
“You tell me.”
“Tell you what?” He glares, “I don’t need to tell you shit Angela Shepard. It’s bad enough you were there when Tim caught us, but I don’t need to explain anything to you.”
“Please,” she scoffs, “I knew weeks before Tim.”
He pales. “Ain’t no way. Curly wouldn’t have told you.”
“He didn’t have to tell me. It ain’t like y’all are subtle.”
And I know Curly better than anyone , she adds in her head. She has a feeling Curtis wouldn’t like hearing that, even if it is true.
“What do you want ?”
“Nothing.”
“Bull- shit . You’re here for a reason, and don’t think I didn’t notice you came here when you knew Curly wouldn’t be with me.”
“Well, duh. He wouldn’t want me anywhere near you.”
“Oh and I wonder why that is.” His sarcasm is almost more than she can take. She grits her teeth, and takes a deep breath. When she speaks again, she’s much more composed.
“You remember Rachel Whitley?”
He blinks, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic.
“That girl who nearly drowned last year when she fell into the river?”
Angela hmmed. “You remember her brother?”
“Jack? Yeah, he skipped town four months ago, what are you-”
“What about Braxton Siles and Andrew Ryerson?”
“They got jumped pretty bad a month ago. What-”
“-Wanna know what they all had in common?” Angela asks, and Ponyboy shuts up, eyes widening. Finally he’s starting to get it.
“What?” He breathes.
She leans in, lowering her voice just slightly. “They all hurt Curly.”
Ponyboy’s face darkens. “Then they deserved what they got.”
Interesting. Angela sizes him up. Maybe he’s got more of a backbone than she thought. Maybe he cares about Curly more than she realized too.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess I don’t need to warn you not to make their mistakes then, do I?”
“Je sus , I’m not lookin’ to mess with Curly, ok? I ain’t stupid and I don’t have a death wish so you can quit with the threats and the shovel talk.”
Angela rolls her eyes. She swears she’s never met anyone as annoying as Ponyboy fucking Curtis.
“Fine. I made my point anyway.”
He rolls his eyes right back. “I’m goin’ back inside.”
She trips him a little as he walks by and ignores his glare as she turns and struts away.
*******************
“You threatened Ponyboy?”
Angela scoffs, from where she’s sitting on the floor while Tim braids her hair.
“I did no such thing.”
“Oh really?” Curly’s so spitting mad it’s funny, “‘Cause I heard from Tommy Brumly who heard it from Two-bit Matthews that you showed up at the DX and dragged him out for a smoke.”
“Yeah. That don’t mean I threatened him.”
“Then what did you say?”
“Nothin much. Just asked him if he remembered what happened to Braxton Ryerson.”
“Fucking Ryerson. Wait,” Curly looks confused, “what happened to him?”
“Got jumped didn’t he,” Tim cuts in smoothly, tying an elastic around the end of one braid, “shame. Heard he was a decent fighter.”
“Ran his mouth off though,” Angela says, “never knew when to keep his mouth shut. Must’ve pissed off the wrong person.”
“Yeah,” Curly agrees offhandedly, “bastard deserved what he got. They ever find out who did it?”
Tim and Angela exchange a quick look.
“No,” Angela says while Tim starts on her next braid and Curly flops down on the couch, his anger forgotten, “they didn’t.”
And they wouldn’t.