Archive of Our Own

Curly would never claim to be the smartest person in the world.

Hell, he’d never even claim to be close. But he knows how to survive on the east side. He knows how to slip through the cracks and he knows how to stay alive.

That’s enough smarts for him.

If he has to pick anyone who’s smart the way school wanted them to be, he’d pick Ponyboy Curtis. He’d known his times tables before Curly had, even though Curly’s older. He can draw and write and read like no one’s business.

But he isn’t like Curly. He can’t slip through the shadows and come out unscathed. He can barely keep his head on the ground.

Which is why Curly feels some weird responsibility towards the kid. Keep Pony alive before he can’t. Grab his ankle before he can float too far.

He first started hanging around him when he was eight and Pony was seven. Now they were each one year older, and walking down the street, close to dark.

“My mama will be callin’ me home soon. She don’t like me being out in the dark. Or my brothers even though they’re big kids. Darry’ll still go out sometimes though, through his window.”

Curly raises his eyebrows and snorts at the image of Darry Curtis, the ‘golden kid’, as Tim had described him, sneaking out.

That’s the other thing about Pony. He’s got quite the mouth on him. You shouldn’t tell him a secret if you don’t want it spread throughout town by the next day.

Curly looks over at Pony, who has a finger in his mouth.

“Get your finger outta your mouth, kid.”

Pony doesn’t respond and Curly reaches over a hand, waving it in front of Pony’s face. “Kid?”

Curly sighs and moves, grabbing Pony’s hand and pulling his finger out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Pony asks, clearly confused.

Curly sighs. “Jesus, man. How do you float away that quick?”

Pony shrugs. “Ain’t nothing interesting down here. Man, I got the nicest world in my head.”

“Nothing interesting, huh?” Curly asks, one eyebrow raised. Pony shakes his head and Curly rolls his eyes. “Not even me?”

Pony looks him up and down. “Not when you ain’t doin’ anything but standing there and talking.”

Curly can feel his cheeks heat up when Pony basically calls him boring. “Blunt.” he remarks drily, not letting any of that emotion color his voice one way or another. Pony smiles. “You want interesting?”

An idea forms in his mind as he looks around, and he can tell no one else would think it’s a good idea. Except maybe Ponyboy.

“I’ll give you interesting.”

He runs up to a telephone pole, laying a hand on it and feeling the rough grain of the wood.

“Curly!” Pony shouts, running to catch up. “What’re you doin’ man?”

“I’m gonna climb it.”

Pony seems to pale as he thinks on it, turning the words over in his mind. “C’mon man, that’s a bad idea. What’re you gonna do when you get the top?”

Curly rolls his eyes, but he can feel his confidence waver as Pony doubts him. Pony never doubts his plans; he’s always the encourager (What had Tim called it last time they tried to steal a car? A facer? Facility? Facilitator!).

“If you don’t wanna see something cool, then you can go home.” Curly says, getting a good grip and stepping up. It’s harder than he’d thought to climb it. At least it’s not smooth metal. The fabric of his clothes getting stuck in the splinters of the pole do a good job of making him feel safer.

Pony huffs out a breath and shakes his head, leaning up against the pole. “I’ll stay!”

Curly grins and keeps on moving up the pole, albeit slowly.

Every once in a while, it’ll feel like he’s gonna fall but he just has to hug the pole a little bit tighter.

It’s a little over halfway, where the wires are becoming more of a reality than a concept, when he makes a mistake.

“Curly! You can come down now!” Pony yells, and it sounds so distant that Curly can’t help himself from looking down.

The ground is so far it makes him feel woozy, his whole head spinning like how he imagines Pony’s must when he starts daydreaming. He can feel his grip slip slightly and he can feel himself falling before he does.

Then, the ground is hurtling towards him, Pony screams and closes his eyes.

Those splinters catching on his clothes felt a lot less comforting as they ripped the threads of his jeans. He manages to twist at the very last second, reaching out his arm like he would when he trips over the high curb downtown.

He hits the ground and he hears a grinding noise as blood rushes to his ears. It feels like liquid fire was just poured onto his right arm, a sharp stabbing pain he’d never felt before.

Pony’s talking but it sounds far away, like Curly’s underwater.

“Curly!” Pony asks, his mouth still wide open as he looks scared, he runs over to Curly, sitting down next to him and looking at the arm, which was bent in an odd direction. “Curly! Oh, God. Oh, fuck.”

Curly can bring himself to smile at that one, even through the pain he’s sure Pony can see on his face.

“Who taught you that one?” his voice sounds strained and pain-filled.

“Two-Bit.” Pony answers quickly. “Where are we? Whose house is closer?”

Curly lets out a grunt of pain. “Yours.”

Pony lets out a breath and hovers his hands slightly over the arm, getting up and leaning down a little, like he’s scared Curly will break if he takes his eyes off him. But that won’t happen. Curly’s tough.

He’s not a bawl baby; he can handle a little sprain. He takes a look at his arm, bent oddly in one direction and he feels vaguely sick.

Maybe a little more than a sprain.

Pony’s already off down the sidewalk, running as fast as he can (much faster than Curly) and Curly lets himself look towards the steadily darkening sky, taking comfort in the small fact that no one else would have seen that.

Pony comes back with his dad in tow and Curly feels a small pang of jealousy before letting himself be picked up (even though he is not a little kid who need to be carried and he definitely could have walked himself to Pony’s dad’s truck.)

He thinks absently that Tim is gonna be pissed if they get stuck with a huge bill, but he still lets himself be driven to the hospital, and he lets himself be taken to a room where they wrap up his arm.

Pony looks like he’s about to cry the whole time and he climbs up on the doctor’s chair thing next to Curly.

“Chin up, kid.” Curly says easily, even though his arm still hurts. They weren’t allowed to give him any pain meds until Tim came.

When Tim did come, he was like an angry storm, glaring at Curly and Pony both.

“What the hell were you doing?”

Curly looks down a little bit. “Climbing a telephone pole.”

Tim’s eyes raise and his eyes widen as he comprehends what he’d just heard. “You—what? Why the hell’d you go and do that?”

Curly shrugs and tries his best to look nonchalant. “It was interesting.”

Tim looks like he might just explode. “Interesting? You get a little too close to a firework and burn your hand because it’s interesting, you don’t break your arm climbing up a telephone pole!”

“We were bored!” Curly tries to defend.

Tim just opens his mouth a little, his eyes looking calmer than before. “We?”

Curly resists the urge to slap his forehead (especially because the arm he would usually use is out of commission.) “... Pony was there.”

Tim looks at Pony more closely and seems like he’s about to start yelling loud enough to get them kicked out but he takes a breath. When Curly takes in the same long breath, he’s overwhelmed by the scent of chemicals and wrinkles his nose. Tim seems to physically shake off the anger.

“Of course. Of course he was. Why am I not shocked? It seems like every time you two get together any shred of sense between you vanishes.”

Tim lets out a long sigh and grabs Curly’s left arm (after having to redirect when he reaches for the cast).

“Careful, son.” Pony’s dad warns Tim, but it only makes Tim glare at being told what to do and Curly shake his head slightly.

“Bye, Curly.” Pony says, still sounding like he’s about to cry. “I told you to get down.”

Tim glares at Curly at that one. “You should listen to your friend next time.” He thinks on it for a split second more and narrows his eyes. “Unless it’s something stupid.”

Curly rolls his eyes. “See ya around, Pony.”

“See ya ‘round.”

At least his teachers couldn’t expect him to write if his writing hand is out of commission.

Curly had been smoking cigarettes since he was 9 years old, but never outside.

Tim didn’t care, but he still didn’t have the hang of it and he’d hate to accidentally inhale wrong and start coughing up a storm in public. It’d make him look like the opposite of tough.

Which is why he was kind of pissed off to see Ponyboy Curtis, of all people, leaning up against a building, one leg up as he smoked a cigarette easily.

He walks up easily and leans against the wall. “You got another one?”

Pony nods and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a cancer stick and handing it to Curly. “Thanks, man.”

He lights up easily, the heat of the lighter he uses giving him a thrill when it’s that close to his fingers.

He takes a drag and gets an idea as he sees the tip light up orange.

“Wanna play a game?” Curly asks, and Pony looks at him kinda weirdly.

“What game?”

“Chicken.”

Pony’s eyes widen as he catches on. “C’mon man, I don’t wanna waste one of my smokes on that. Took me forever to lift these off Dal. He’s still convinced Steve took ‘em.”

Curly raises an eyebrow and tries to look uninterested. “Why didn’t you just ask one of your brothers to buy you a pack?”

Pony’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “You crazy, man? Darry’s a health freak and Soda thinks ten is too early for me to start.”

Curly snorts. “Like that’s the earliest anyone in our neighborhood has ever started? That Cade kid started when he was a year younger than you, didn’t he?”

Pony nods. “What about you? I ain’t ever seen you smoking.”

Curly tries to hide his embarrassment at being caught out. “Yeah, I smoke, man. C’mon, why are you avoiding my question? It’s fine if you’re too scared to play.”

Pony’s eyes shoot wide open and he shakes his head. “No way, man. I ain’t scared.”

He puffs his chest up, and Curly can tell he’s desperate to make Curly think he’s tough. He’d always been like that to the older boy, even though they were both the same age for another 2 weeks until Curly’s birthday came around.

“Fine, then. Let’s play.” He leads Pony away from the wall and further into the lot. “You got some more? Ours are too short.”

Pony lets out a long sigh. “I’ll get you some more from the drugstore.” Curly promises and Pony finally nods in agreement, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. Curly does the same and Pony grabs two more from his pocket, handing one to Curly and holding it up for him to light.

Curly smiles and lights both before holding up his other hand, waiting for Pony to do the same. Pony bites his tongue before raising his slightly shaking hand.

“On three?” He asks, holding the lit cigarette up, inches away from Curly’s hand. Curly nods, before he can back out and make himself look like a coward. “One... Two...”

Curly almost squeezes his eyes shut as he says, “Three.” with Pony. He thrusts the cigarette forward, making contact with Pony’s skin right as he feels the fiery pain of the cigarette settle onto his other hand.

He sucks in a breath as Pony gasps lightly in pain.

But neither of them waver, just holding the cigarettes firm and steady. Curly wonders for a moment if this was a bad idea.

Even with the bitingly cold air surrounding them, sweat is pouring down the both of their faces. Curly doesn’t dare breathe in through his nose, knowing just from the look on Pony’s face that the smell wasn’t worth the grounding feeling.

“I ain’t gonna holler, man.” he says, before shutting his mouth again. This wasn’t one of those chicken games where taunts would be involved. If he opened his mouth again, he might just scream.

He grits his teeth and he can see the skin on Pony’s fingertip melting, which only serves to intensify his own pain. He swears the rest of him will catch on fire soon enough and he’s considering pulling away first when the cigarettes are knocked out of both their hands.

Curly can see Tim, looking furious, for about a second before his and Pony’s heads are colliding with enough force to make an audible ‘bonk’.

Pony stumbles a little when Tim lets them go, but Curly holds onto Tim’s sleeve and stays standing straight.

“What the hell did I just see you two idiots doing?” Tim asks, his gaze looking murderous.

Curly swallows heavily. “Chicken.”

Tim raises an eyebrow and turns to Curly. “What was that?”

“Chicken... We were playing Chicken, Tim.”

Tim sighs. “With lit cigarettes?” Pony nods. “I almost would’ve preferred it if you drove cars at each other.”

Curly can see Pony’s ears getting red as Tim goes on to scold them both, grabbing them each by the back of their necks and walking them in the direction of the Curtis house. “Burning holes into each other, what the hell was the process there, Curly? And you, Curtis! What happened to all that logic Darry goes on about?”

Curly can see Pony grimace at the words and he smiles a little.

“I swear to God, I’ll kill you both if I ever catch you doing something as stupid as that again. Not even your brother will be able to stop me, Curtis.”

Tim lets go of Pony as they walk in front of the Curtis house.

Curly grins and Pony walks past him. “I won.” he whispers as Pony walks by. Pony stiffens up and glares.

“In your dreams.”

Curly laughs, ignoring the dull pain still coming from his fingertip.

“As long as you don’t have a rematch.” Tim sighs before letting go of Curly’s neck to pull him into a headlock.

Curly yelps but walks along as Tim keep going back to their own house.

Pony and Curly were used to the feeling of getting caught in doing something dumb.

But they’d never fucked up quite this bad.

After the whole Windrixville debacle, Pony’d been scared to let anyone close to him.

It took Curly coming crashing into his life for Pony to get out of the rut he’d been in for the weeks after Johnny and Dally died.

He’d constantly been muttering about some curse and how it would get Curly, too. He hadn’t let himself touch Curly for a month, until Curly had almost fallen into the street doing a handstand.

It went from hanging around outside to hanging around at the Drive-In to hanging out in cars to hanging out in Curly’s house.

It was a hell of a time trying to get Pony to come over for the first time, but now no one bat an eye when he came over.

There was this one time, when Tim had some of the gang over when Pony walked in when one guy did a double take and asked if Darry knew where Pony was.

Tim had just let his head fall back and sighed, before saying hi to Pony.

But the point is, they’d been able to hang out at Curly’s house and they’d been getting to know each other better.

Curly’d always felt something there, that he’d just mistook as protectiveness. It took until that afternoon to identify what it really was, though.

It took Pony seeming distraught over something, and then leaning in. It took Curly catching on and closing the gap between them. It took the electrifying connection of their lips to realize what he’d always thought of as an obligation to protect Pony was actually something different.

It was like (because Curly refused to love). It was every time they’d done something stupid and he’d felt nothing except pain and happiness that Pony was the one with him.

He was glad he wasn’t injured this time, because it was easy to snake his hand into Pony’s hair, pushing him onto the bed and kissing him.

It made his whole body feel warm, but his neck and cheeks feel like they’re on fire. It isn’t like those girls he made out with in the bathroom at parties. It wasn’t like Angela’s friends he was forced to go on dates with.

It’s real. It’s palpable connection that he can feel, and he can tell Pony can too.

Pony’s not the best kisser in the world, clearly unexperienced, but it doesn’t matter when Curly knows how to kiss and he’s never enjoyed it as much as he is with Pony.

He can hear Pony struggling not to make any noise under him and he pulls away, resting his forehead on Pony’s briefly, both of them breathing heavily.

Pony smiles and he’s reaching up, flipping them so Curly’s underneath him and kissing him again. It’s less intense but Curly can still feel the heat of feeling in it.

“Curly! I’ve been calling—Oh, God!”

Both Pony and Curly jump, Pony falling to the side and staring with wide eyes, swollen lips, and ruffled hair at the doorway.

Curly’s head had snapped towards the door immediately where Tim stands, rapidly paling.

Curly feels like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar but he feels a horrible, sick type of feeling settle in his chest as he realizes this is much, much worse than a cookie jar.

“What’s going on?” Tim breaches slowly, taking his hand off the door as his eyes flick in between the two of them.

“I...” Curly’s floundering for a reason and Pony seems too stricken to do anything but stare. Until he pulls himself together just enough to clear his throat.

“We... uh. We were practicing.” Pony says, almost convincingly if his face hadn’t been flushed and his hair wasn’t still messed up from the hand Curly’d had in it.

Indicative of the type of passion that didn’t come from a practice kiss.

“Practice?” Tim asks, and he sounds desperate to believe it.

Curly’s about ready to pick up Pony and leap out the window when Tim shifts. It’s not quite anger.

It looks more like... concern.

“Curly?” Tim asks, sounding hoarse. “Practice?”

Curly can’t bring himself to nod, even as he feels Pony’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

Tim shakes his head and steps into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Jesus.” Tim says, pacing a small distance, not getting close enough to the bed to touch either of them. “Jesus.”

Curly can feel Pony desperately grasp at his hand and he grabs it, holding it tightly because he knows inside of the Pony that saw two friends die in one week, there’s still the little Pony who didn’t question Curly too much on the telephone pole because he thought that Curly was too tough to be hurt.

He needs to be that invincible right now.

“Of all the... stupid, boneheaded things I’ve ever caught you two doing...” Tim says, before looking up and seeing both of them looking a little too scared for him to continue on the anger act. “This takes the cake.”

He sits down heavily on the chair near the table Curly uses as a desk.

“Sorry.” Pony says, sounding small and scared.

Tim looks up and sighs. “No, it’s not—I just. Why would you two do this?”

Curly resists the urge to glare at Tim and keeps his mouth shut.

“It’s dangerous.” Tim says, and he has an air of genuine warning to his tone.

“I don’t care.” Curly says, and he manages a weak smile. “When have I ever cared about danger if it’s something I have fun—I like doing?”

Curly changes up the wording a little, hyper-aware of the hand in his, the body heat at his back.

Tim doesn’t see the comedy in Curly’s statement, and he stares at them both like they’re idiots, which they are for letting themselves kiss. For opening up Pandora's Box.

Curly can see the acceptance on Tim’s face before Tim himself is sure of it. Tim swallows heavily and he starts talking.

“You two know you can’t do that in public.” He waits for a nod. “Lock the door next time. Don’t even do the hand-holding thing in public. Don’t let anyone know. Don’t even think of telling anyone unless you’re certain they won’t tell anyone else. Don’t discuss anything about this... thing where anyone can hear you. And, for the love of God, be safe.”

He waits for a nod after every statement. It helps that both Curly and Pony had already known those things before it’d been laid out for them.

“Jeez.” Tim says, letting out a breath and looking deflated. “Is this why Pony’s over here more than he’s at his own house?”

Pony shakes his head, piping up before Curly can. “No. This is the first time this happened.”

Tim lets out a humorless laugh. “Of course. Because I’m always the one to catch you two doing something stupid.”

He stands, walking towards the door to the room and looking at Curly, a genuine smile on his face, reassurance as well as a way to make sure Curly doesn’t think he’s mad.

He doesn’t close the door again, but he walks away and Curly lets out a huff of laughter, looking at Pony.

Pony also laughs, and suddenly they’re both in hysterics, unsure of what had gotten them there.

Their hands stay connected through the laughter, and they end, lying next to each other on Curly’s bed.

“Just our luck, huh?” Pony asks once he’s come down from the laughing fit enough to talk.

Curly nods, agreeing.

“Just our luck.”