Chapter Text
The small house was quiet and felt oddly larger now that it wasn't bursting at the seams with seven teenage boys. The gang had left a few hours ago after showing up to congratulate Darry on finishing his first semester of college, there had been some teasing involved from Steve and Two Bit of course with them saying they were responsible for knocking him down a peg once in a while, lest he turn into a Soc. Snow fell softly outside, his parents had gone out to a dance, and Darry was looking forward to a quiet evening with his brothers before he headed back to school in the morning. He was about to join Ponyboy and Sodapop on the couch when the phone rang.
“Hello, Darrel Curtis speaking.”
“Son, this is the chief of police, there's been an accident.”
“What- who-”
Sodapop had paused the TV and his brothers were watching him with rapt attention. He took a deep breath.
“What happened?”
“A train derailed as your parent's car was crossing the tracks, the car's totaled and I'm afraid they were killed on impact.”
He sucked in a breath, legs threatening to give out as he sat in his father's desk chair, tracing the well worn leather.
“How- how'd you know it was them?”
“Drivers licenses in their wallets, son I- my condolences to your family, how old are you?’”
“Nineteen,” Darry said, voice shaking.
“I expect a social worker will be in contact with you shortly.”
“I- yes, thank you, sir, I need to talk to my brothers.”
“Of course, son.”
He hung up the phone, hands shaking. He didn't know what to do, one time when he was younger he'd gotten hit in the head with a pipe at a rumble, his head had felt fuzzy, pounding, as his ears rang, he felt like that now. He should probably call the social worker, the funeral home, and the rest of the gang, but all he could do was sit at his father's desk, which suddenly felt like it dwarfed him. He should clean the house, or the social worker that would surely visit them tomorrow morning would take one look at their greased back hair and patched up jeans and send his brothers to a boy's home, but he just kept sitting, staring blankly at the cracked window pane and the snow falling like ashes onto the road.
“Dar?”
Sodapop's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Ponyboy sat chewing his fingernails and anxiously picking at a hole in the threadbare couch. Sodapop ran his thumb over his shoulder, trying to reassure him. Paul Newman rode a horse on the paused television. The only sound was the ancient radiator clicking and the ominous whistle of a train. Darry had never paid it much attention before, but he knew that sound would haunt him for the rest of his days.
“Dar, you alright? Who called?”
“Fuzz,” he choked out.
“Ah, Dal or Two Bit need you to bail ‘em out again? That ain't nothing to get tensed up about.”
Sodapop's brown eyes were dancing. Ponyboy relaxed slightly.
“No, little buddy,” Darry said, sitting next to his brothers on the couch, “he wasn't calling about Dally or Two Bit, he was calling about mom and dad.”
“Something happen?” Sodapop asked,
Ponyboy had practically crawled into his lap, looking much younger than twelve. Sodapop wrapped an arm around him.
“There was a collision with the train,” Darry said, wrapping an arm around Sodapop's shoulders.
“Are they at the hospital? Can we see them?”
“No, little buddy, they-” he shook his head.
Ponyboy launched himself at Darry, skinny arms wrapping around broad shoulders. Darry gently wrapped an arm around him, pulling Sodapop close with the other. They clung to each other, Sodapop gripping Darry's flannel shirt tightly as he choked on sobs.
“Shh,” Darry said, running his fingers through Sodapop's hair, still slightly sticky from grease, “you gotta breathe, little buddy.”
“What's going to- Dar, where are we gonna go? I'm only sixteen, and Darry, you've got school, just please, don't let them separate us, tell ‘em we gotta stick together, I don't think Pony would do very well without me.”
Darry felt sick. He held Sodapop at arms length so he could see his face, gripping his shoulders tightly. Ponyboy's wide green eyes watched him closely.
“Woah, woah, we're all staying together if I have any say in it, sure we're greasers, but I can get a job, I'll drop out of school and look after you two, I'll figure everything out in the morning, savvy?”
“I'll drop out too,” Sodapop said, “I can work at the DX with Steve and help with the bills.”
“Not gonna happen, little buddy, you both are staying in school, but we'll talk about that later.”
He clutched them both tighter, rubbing a hand up and down Ponyboy's back.
“How you doing, kiddo?”
“I miss ‘em,” Ponyboy said.
“Yeah, I do too,” he sighed, looking at the family photos on the peeling walls.
Ponyboy and Sodapop began crying harder. A few tears ran down Darry's face, landing in his brother's auburn hair.
“Hey, I ain't gonna pretend this is going to be easy, I have no idea how to be a father, but I do know how to be your older brother, we're all gonna muddle through together one step at a time, savvy?”
“Glory, Dar, you sound like a football coach,” Sodapop said with a watery smile.
Darry gently cuffed him on the back of his head. Ponyboy had cried himself to sleep. Darry gently wiped the tear tracks off of his face. His arms were falling asleep from his youngest brother's weight but he wouldn't move for anything right now.
“First things first, we gotta get some sleep.”
“Can we stay out here?” Sodapop asked.
“I don't think this couch is big enough for all three of us, little buddy, but, why don't we all go in your room tonight?”
Darry picked up Ponyboy and carried him into Sodapop's room. It was a tight fit with all three of them in the bed but they managed it. Darry stayed awake after his brothers had fallen asleep, brushing Ponyboy's bangs off his face when his brow furrowed. He could protect them, for a few more hours at least.