Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pony should have been suspicious the second he woke up to see white wallpaper on his bedroom wall. His walls hadn’t had white wallpaper since he was twelve at the oldest, when Soda and Steve had gotten the house to themselves for a night and painted everything blue. It had been blue ever since, but somehow, the walls being white didn’t register in his head.

He should have been suspicious when he woke up to rowdy noises coming from the living area. The house had been pretty quiet these past few months. The gang was only five people now, and sometimes being too happy hurt. Most mornings were decently quiet.

He should definitely have been suspicious when he looked around the room and saw toys on the floor. Nobody played with toys. They were mostly boxed up in the closet nowadays. Pony could see his old teddy bear in his bed next to him out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t touched it in years, let alone slept with it.

What finally made everything register in his mind was when he pushed himself up and looked down to see that his legs were half the size they were supposed to be. His arms too. His body was soft and doughy, far from the lean muscle he was acquiring from track.

He hardly got a chance to take everything in when the door opened and his mother popped her head in, checking on him the way she used to do every morning. She smiled, her tanned cheeks lifting her soft blue eyes. Tears dripped down Pony’s cheeks before he could even think to stop them. By the time he pulled off his blanket to run and wrap his arms around her and never let go, she was already there, picking him up and pulling him close to her chest.

“Mom…” He sniffled, his voice much higher than he ever remembered it being. He buried his face in her neck. She patted his back.

“Did you have a scary dream, honey?” She whispered in his ear. One of the stray hairs coming loose from her bun tickled his ear. He couldn’t answer her. If anything, this was the dream. She felt real, just how he remembered her. 

Maybe this was one of those dreams that got pulled directly from memories. He squeezed her tighter. He didn’t want it to end. His mother carried him out of the bedroom and into the hall, passing framed pictures of their family. He wasn’t facing the living room, but he could hear his dad wrestling with Darry and Soda, the three of them laughing and thumping around the house.

God, he really didn’t want to wake up.

“Look who you three woke up.” He could feel her jaw moving as she spoke, closer to him than she’d been in almost a full year. He squeezed out the last of his tears and held onto her tighter. 

“Aw, there’s my Ponyboy! You gonna help me take Soda and Darry down?” He could hear his dad walking over, grasping him around the middle and pulling him away from his mom. His dad looked just like how he remembered him, sparkling dark eyes, stubble, and a wide smile. Like Darry if Darry had never had a worry in the world. His dad settled him on his shoulders.

“Daddy that’s not fair!” Soda squealed. Soda was significantly smaller than Pony had ever remembered him being, but then again, this was definitely a memory. Soda jumped at their dad’s legs, pulling at his pants. Darry, red faced from wrestling around, walked up to them.

“No, Pony you gotta help us take Daddy down, he’s evil!” Darry looked different too, his face no longer sharp and boxy, but squishy and soft. He still looked like their daddy, but more than that,

he just looked like a little kid.

Pony wasn’t used to thinking of Darry as young at all. Soda was still jumping up and down, trying to take their dad down all by himself, blond hair flying in every direction. Somehow, Soda didn’t look that different. Smaller, yes, and without the chiseled jawline Pony was used to, but still one hundred percent Sodapop. Seeing Darry so young and careless almost hurt.

“I’ll help.” He squeaked. He hadn’t meant to talk at all. He reached towards Darry, glancing back at his dad’s overly dramatic look of betrayal. Darry picked him up with noticeable difficulty and held him awkwardly. He half carried half dragged Pony to the couch.

“When me an’ Soda get Daddy to the floor, you gotta sit on top of him for three seconds, okay?” Darry whispered in his ear. Pony nodded. He knew how wrestling worked. Obviously, he’d been given the easiest task, but that was because he was like…

Pony looked down at himself. Back at Darry and Soda. 

He was like four. He’d have to go into the kitchen and look at the calendar to make sure, but Darry had to be around ten, and Soda around six. Pony couldn’t really remember back this far, but he figured this dream was like a very distant, long forgotten memory. It was a lot nicer than the ones he’d been having lately. Nicer than the ones he’d been having the past year by far.

“Okay Darry…” He whispered back. Darry smiled, revealing a missing canine tooth, and circled the coffee table, eyeing their dad up and down. Their dad was doing an almost decent job of looking like he had no idea he was about to get pounced on, staring at the one blank wall in the living room. Soda was still trying to topple him over by dragging his pants, giggling like a maniac the whole time.

Pony’s gaze shifted over to his mom, who had sat down at the table while Pony had been passed around. She calmly drank her coffee, just as addicted to it as Darry was. She caught his eye and smiled, blowing him a kiss. Pony caught it, the way he always used to.

“Pony! Pony you gotta help us!” Darry shrieked from under their dad. Soda was right next to him, the both of them getting slowly crushed by their dad, who was laughing like Santa Claus. Pony ran as fast as his stubby legs could take him. It was a weird feeling, being limited to a four year old’s capabilities.

He climbed on his dad’s back, pulling at his shirt. 

It was no use, his dad was a wall of muscle. Pony soon felt himself getting snatched up alongside his brothers, pulled close to his dad’s chest and getting attacked with kisses. His dad’s kisses were itchy due to his stubble, but it only made the fight more entertaining. Darry squirmed under him, yelling out to their mom for help. 

She ignored them all, naturally. 

His dad’s fingers dug into his sides, tickling him with fervour. Pony kicked and struggled as much as he could, but it was useless. He found himself being dropped onto the couch, along with Soda, who was gasping for air after barely surviving their dad’s tickling.

Darry was still being tortured, giggling until he started hiccuping. Their dad threw Darry onto the couch right beside him. Pony was still breathing deep, laying on the couch. 

Everything was perfect. He wished he could stay here forever, but he could feel the pull of sleep. He was pretty sure that was his body waking up.

He didn’t have a whole lot of fight left in him. He let his eyes close, cuddled up with Darry and Soda while their breathing evened, with Darry’s occasional hiccup. 

“Sweetie, you haven’t even had breakfast yet, come here, Mama made pancakes.” Pony blearily rubbed his eyes, looking up to see his mom again.

“I told you, we should have tried getting him used to less naps. He’s always passing out.” His dad appeared next to her. His mom rolled her eyes and picked Pony up, carrying him from the couch to the table, where he had his special chair with a phonebook to sit on so he could reach the table.

Why was he still here?

Chapter Text

The day had gone by with no incident. Pony had spent most of the day carefully watching his parents and brothers, waiting for some sort of sign that this was just an incredibly vivid dream, but there was nothing. It had been a perfectly normal day. He hadn’t gotten a second to be alone the entire time, even having supervision while going to the bathroom.

It was dinner time now, and soon, Pony figured it would be bedtime. He was slowly losing any faith in this being a dream. It was far too detailed, far too normal. 

Was this the afterlife? Did he die in his sleep? He shivered as he followed Darry to the table for dinner. If he was dead, were Darry and Soda okay? Was this really what the afterlife was like?

Was this a punishment or was this a reward? 

Pony clambered onto his special chair, sitting in between Soda and his mother. Soda was already stuffing his face with their mother’s spaghetti, red sauce all over his cheeks, with a little bit on his nose. Pony didn’t even know how he managed that.

“Wait for me to say grace, honey.” Their mother chided, clasping Pony’s (very small) hand in hers. Soda giggled and grabbed his other hand. They all made a ring around the table as his mother prayed. Pony kept his eyes open, studying everyone’s features. His father smiled at him, his twinkling dark eyes watching him.

Right. He forgot his dad was never really that religious and wasn't one to take prayers seriously. He smiled back.

“Amen.” His mother said, releasing him. Soda went right back to gobbling down his food, splashing the marinara sauce all over the table. Pony stared in awe.

He grabbed his fork, which was smaller and wider for his tiny fingers, and stabbed a meatball. He clumsily carried it to his mouth, smearing sauce on his lips. It was like he wasn’t able to aim where his fork went exactly. 

Why was he so terribly uncoordinated? He tried to eat normally, but he couldn’t help but get sauce all over his face. He wasn’t even being sloppy like Soda was and he still got sauce everywhere.

“Look at you! Eating so politely…” His mother smiled, patting his hair. His father chuckled.

“He sure is! Makes Soda look like some sort of ruffian.” He said. Soda giggled, marinara dripping off his chin and onto his lap.

Pony didn’t think he looked that much better than Soda did. He felt grimy. He was half tempted to grab a napkin and wipe his face off, but he figured that would have been way too suspicious. He was pretty sure no four year old was that smart, or that put off by having sauce on his face. He was trying to avoid suspicion while he figured more out about the new reality he seemed to be in. It was getting kind of stressful acting like a four year old all day. He didn’t have any sort of experience with little kids, and he didn’t remember much from this period of his life. 

If this was the afterlife, it was an incredibly confusing one.

He finished his dinner as fast as he could, knowing his mom would wipe him up as soon as he was done to avoid getting sauce on the furniture. He needed it all off of him.

“Aw, you must have been hungry today, you cleaned your plate!” His mom seemed very proud as she wiped his cheeks, mouth, and chin with a napkin. 

“All that playing must have gave him an appetite.” His dad grabbed his plate and brought it to the sink. Pony followed after him, deciding that he was bored of the dining room. He was starting to think that being in a four year old’s body was affecting him more than he thought. He was still tied to a normal four year old’s physical abilities obviously, but he also noticed he had a hard time focusing, and got distracted by things very easily. Probably why he was bored of the dining area for absolutely no reason.

He watched his dad wash the few dishes he brought with him before turning to get a good look at the calendar. 

1955. August 1955. He was four, had been four for a month. That almost sounded familiar.

In that case, where the hell were Two-bit and Steve? Two-bit had been a part of Pony’s life ever since he could remember, before he was born actually. He remembered his mom talking about babysitting the guy since he was two. Steve was a later addition, but if Pony was one hundred percent four, then Soda was definitely six, and had already befriended Steve. 

He wasn’t sure when exactly Steve had started hanging out at their house, but he figured it wouldn’t be for a little while. He could definitely remember a time before Steve. 

But Johnny and Dallas… Those were the ones he hadn’t met until much later. Pony had been nine the first time he talked to Johnny, and before then, he’d only seen him around town. Dallas, Pony had met when he was about ten or eleven. 

Glory, he couldn’t wait that long. He knew for sure that Johnny was only a street and a half away right now, and he was about fifty percent sure that Dallas was on the outskirts of Tulsa. He’d only moved to New York at like ten, and had come back at thirteen. Pony knew Dallas lived out in the country, considering the few things Dallas had said about his childhood. 

Pony liked Two-bit, and he cared about Steve, but he needed to see Johnny and Dallas. He couldn’t wait until he got older. Johnny was probably getting beaten to a pulp right this very second. Dallas was learning not to trust a single soul. Pony didn’t have years.

“Daddy?” Pony tugged at his dad’s shirt. His dad looked down at him, smiling.

“Whaddya need, bud?” He leaned over to face Pony. Pony thought for a second. What exactly did he need to do? Save Johnny? Locate Dallas? Steep expectations for his current body, but he was pretty sure he could do it, especially if Johnny and Dallas were only six and seven respectively.

“Can I play outside?” He really just needed about ten minutes to run over to Johnny’s house and peek in his bedroom window. He’d done it thousands of times before, checking on Johnny was something he tried to do when he could.

His dad chuckled.

“No, buddy. It’s bedtime. You gotta take a bath first, wash all your messes away. Your momma can take you all to the park with Keith tomorrow, okay?” His dad patted him on the shoulder, as if he were talking to a fellow adult. It was something Pony had always loved about his dad, but right now, at three feet tall, it felt kind of demeaning.

He could feel his lower lip trembling, like he was about to throw a tantrum. He bit it to keep it still. Even then, his eyes were wet with tears and his body felt like it was going to explode. His heart was beating extra fast and it took everything in him to not throw himself at the cabinets and scream.

This body was inconvenient. Pony had complained about his puberty-ridden body back in his normal life (universe? What was he supposed to call this?) but being four was a hell of a lot harder. 

“Okay…” He mumbled, swallowing down his tears. 

“Pony! We're gonna take a bath together!” Soda tumbled into the kitchen, splattering marinara sauce on the tile floor when he fell flat on his face after he tripped on nothing. Pony grimaced. Soda hadn’t cried all day, but he’d never seen a six year old faceplant without screaming their head off. His dad was quick to help Soda up, patting his back as Soda sniffled.

Soda didn’t cry. Pony was thoroughly impressed. 

He’d easily convinced his dad to let them have bubbles in the bath. Pony wasn’t really looking forward to being naked in the tub with a six year old, even if he was four. He wanted as much privacy as he could get, and the bubbles were the first thing that had come to mind.

Soda had never been one for privacy though, and right now he was picking up the bubbles and putting them in Pony’s hair, giggling to himself. 

“Daddy look! Pony has bubbles on his head!” Soda slapped the water as he giggled, splashing Pony in the face. Pony was too tired and stressed to enjoy this. He could feel how weary this tiny body was, and it was more exhausted than he’d been in a while, even counting his recent depressive episode. Luckily, his dad could see that.

“He’s very silly, isn’t he Pepsi? I think he’s ready to come out though, he looks like he's about to fall over and pass out.” His dad said it to Soda like it was some sort of inside joke. Soda giggled as his dad picked Pony up and dried him off, wrapping him up in a big white towel that Pony somehow recognized despite the towel not being white the last time he saw it.

In fact, he’d always assumed it was supposed to be a pinkish-brown color. 

Pony let his dad change him into his pajamas, even if he’d rather do it himself. He figured he could do it if he had time. He may have been uncoordinated, but he could definitely put footie pajamas on.

“Go find your mama so she can tuck you, okay bud?” Pony nodded and toddled off.

He hadn’t gotten tucked in by his mom in a long, long time. He was looking forward to it.

“Can we please?” Soda whined, absently drowning his pancakes in syrup. His mom took the bottle from him and set it back down on the table. Soda was practically humming with excitement, chattering and swinging his limbs around recklessly. Pony sat next to him, trying to avoid a stray elbow. If he thought Soda was hyper back in his original timeline, he was almost a thousand times that right now. 

Soda was excited to go to the park today, and Pony was too. He knew for sure that Two-bit would be there, his mom had said something about meeting him there and taking him home with them afterwards. He was also expecting Steve to be there as well, due to the fact that Soda was sure that he would. He wasn’t sure if Steve actually would be there, seeing as he was seven and probably not that good at planning a playdate for himself, but he kind of hoped he would be. He really just wanted to see some more familiar faces.

He also hoped (but didn’t really believe) that Johnny would be at the park, but honestly Pony couldn’t remember ever seeing a kid with dark hair, eyes, and skin like Johnny’s at the park. He was sure that if he’d ever seen Johnny as a kid, he’d have remembered. 

He was very sure that he wouldn’t see Dallas. It was best to not even hope for it.

“Yes, honey. We’ll go after everyone is cleaned up from breakfast. I already told you this five times, you need to pay attention.” His mother scolded gently. Soda continued to not pay attention, stabbing his pancake over and over, giggling each time. “Darry, honey, why don’t you grab your football and come with us to the park? I’m sure you’ll find some big boys to play with.” 

Darry was on his fifth pancake when he looked up at her.

“Oh, I guess. Keith’ll probably play, even if he’s bad at it.” Darry didn’t seem as thrilled. Pony knew Two-bit was god-awful at football. He liked to play, sure, but he enjoyed losing with style rather than actually winning a game. He couldn’t imagine that a more uncoordinated version of him would be any different.

Steve would probably play if he was at the park, but Pony still wasn’t sure just how well Steve knew Darry yet, and he knew Steve was a weird brand of shy. Like, judgmental and mean shy.

Pony didn’t know who all would be at the park, but it probably wouldn’t be that busy. He never remembered it having much more than his gang and a few other kids. The only times it was ever full was during neighborhood grills or other events. He knew most of the people in his neighborhood, but it didn’t mean that they frequented the rusty, run-down park.

Pony finished his pancakes, sticky with syrup despite taking special pains to avoid that exact thing. He held his hands out towards his mother so she could clean him.

“You sure are good about being clean, aren’t you? My squeaky clean little boy.” She wiped his hands and kissed his forehead. “Get Darry to help you with your shoes while I clean up breakfast, okay?” 

Pony looked at Darry, who was on his sixth pancake. Darry sighed.

“C’mere, I’m basically done anyway.” Darry shoved the last bite into his mouth and grabbed Pony’s shoes. Pony had to school his expression when he saw just how small they were. He really didn’t remember being this tiny. 

Were four year olds usually this small or was he an exception? Being this small shouldn’t have ever been allowed. Darry hummed a tune that Pony was sure he’d gotten from Mickey Mouse as he tied his shoes. 

“Thank you, Darry.” Pony said. Darry looked up at him before smiling. 

“Yeah, well, you’ll be tying your own shoes soon enough.” Darry ruffled his hair as he stood up, practically towering over him. Pony was pretty sure he could tie his own shoes. It would take longer than usual, but the formula was what really mattered. It wasn’t like he could say that though.

Soda breezed past him, grabbing his shoes and shoving his feet in as fast as possible. 

“Come on, Momma! I wanna see Steve and Keith!” Soda was like a siren. Not the mythical kind, the kind that blared during tornadoes.

His mom chuckled and opened the door, letting them all out before closing it behind her as she followed. Pony decided to hold her hand. He hadn’t done that in a long time, and he missed it more than he realized. She absentmindedly ran her thumb over the back of his hand as they walked behind Darry and Soda. Soda was jumping with excitement, talking to Darry about how cool Steve was.

Pony rolled his eyes. Steve wasn’t nearly as cool as Soda thought, and he could tell Darry was coming to that same conclusion.

“His favorite color is red, and he likes cars, and he gets to go places by himself, and-” Pony tuned out. He was kind of excited to see Two-bit and Steve, even if they would be different from the Two-bit and Steve he knew. Two-bit would probably be just as mature as he was before, but Steve was an enigma. Pony really wasn’t sure what he was going to get. 

This was the first time he’d really been outside since he’d gotten here, and it was interesting to see all the differences. The neighbor’s house that had been a decaying yellow color was currently a clean white. The sidewalk was only mildly cracked, and in some places, there wasn’t even a sidewalk yet.

There were a few different cars that he didn’t recognize in people’s driveways, and some neighbors that were only vaguely familiar. 

He also noticed that it took a lot longer to get to the park when his legs were half the size they used to be. Darry and Soda were already on the soft green grass, running around a few feet from the small playground while Pony walked hand in hand with his mom. He glanced around, looking for Two-bit or Steve, but he only saw kids running around that he wasn’t that familiar with.

“Go on and play, sweetie. I brought my book, I won’t be lonely.” His mom gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the playground. Pony sighed and toddled away from her, studying the faces around him.

He had completely lost sight of Soda, but he could see Darry throwing his football up into the air and running around trying to catch it. Pony watched the football bounce off of his forehead and hit a little kid. 

He wandered closer to the playground, avoiding all the screaming kids. Pony didn’t really care for kids that much, he always thought they were kind of gross and annoying, but he didn’t really have the option of being picky at the moment. He wanted space already, but he really just wanted to see everything, which was hard when he was no taller than three feet.

He eyed the slide, which nobody seemed interested in. He ran over, avoiding getting hit by a kid running with a kite, and clasped onto the ladder. Some kid hiding under the slide hissed at him and Pony recoiled.

“Get lost, weirdo!” He whispered. The kid clambered out from under the slide and ran off into the crowd of playing children. Pony climbed up the slide, plopping down on the top and taking a deep breath. He was starting to understand why Dallas always got so mad when little kids existed in his line of sight.

He surveyed the park, now able to see much more than before, like Soda jumping up and down while talking to a black haired kid that Pony was pretty sure had to be Steve. He wasn’t close enough to tell for sure, but Soda’s excitement and the kid’s non-expressive body language kind of gave it away. 

Pony wanted to look more, but the kid from before was back, and he was climbing up the ladder with a mean look in his eye. Pony scrambled to go down the slide and ran away as fast as he could.

“Steve, this is my baby brother! His name is Pony!” Soda held Steve’s hand and forcibly gave it to Pony to hold. Steve’s eyebrows wrinkled as he looked back at Soda, but Pony could tell that it was more from uncertainty than dislike. Younger Steve’s facial expressions were a lot easier to read, for some reason.

“Hi Pony. Soda can we play cops and robbers?” Steve let go of Pony’s hand the second Soda wasn’t looking, but Pony didn’t hold it against him. He was probably sticky right now, somehow. 

Steve wiped his hand off on his already dirty jean shorts. Steve was always at least a little dirty as far as Pony could remember, it wasn’t that surprising to see that his clothes were wrinkled and mismatched, or that his hair was not just messy, but kind or ratted.

Actually it was pretty strange to see. Steve might not have been the cleanest, but he’d always cared about his appearance. His dirtiness was fashionable, in a way.

“Yeah! Pony, you wanna play?” Soda patted Pony on the head awkwardly, throwing him out of his own head. Pony glanced at Steve, who was looking more and more uncomfortable being around anyone that wasn’t Soda, and decided to be nice. 

“Nope! I’m gonna play with Darry.” He didn’t want to see what kind of tantrum seven year old Steve might throw if he had to share Soda privileges. Not that he looked like he’d throw a fit, he actually seemed relatively calm, but Pony knew how angry Steve could get, and he didn’t really want to test it.

“Pony!” A squeaky voice shrieked from behind him. Pony looked around to see Two-bit in his overalled and freckled glory. His red hair stuck out in several directions like a wire cleaner, and he had jam on his cheek. He was dirty too, but he was definitely cleaner than Steve had been.

“Hi T- Keith. Hi Keith.” Pony gave him a big smile to try and cover up his mistake. Two-bit didn’t seem to notice, instead choosing to try his hardest to pick Pony up and swing them both around until Two-bit tripped and dropped him.

Tears welled up in Pony’s eyes before he could even think about it. It wasn’t like it was some sort of serious injury, at most he’d have a bruised butt, but here he was, sniffling. 

Two-bit at least looked concerned, as well as a bit guilty. 

“You’re okay! Don’t cry!” His grey eyes were wide with nervousness.

“Keith? What happened?” Darry was already there. He looked Pony over, deemed him fine, and turned to Two-bit. “You need to be careful, he only just turned four.” 

Keith kicked a rock and stuffed his chubby hands into his pockets.

“He’s alright though, right Pony?” Pony nodded. His tears were already gone, and his butt wasn’t even sore anymore. He was kind of embarrassed about crying like a baby, but he figured he’d get over it.

“Let's play football.” Pony said. He wanted Darry’s protective mood gone, and there was no faster way to make Darry dangerous than to give him a football and let him loose. Darry nodded.

“We can throw it back and forth I guess.” Darry tossed his football around in his hands a little. Pony looked over at Soda and Steve running around in the mulch and got a new idea. He wanted the gang to get together as soon as they could, rather than bonding over the course of a few years. It was weird having Steve as just Soda’s buddy and not a crucial part of them.

“Soda! Get Steve to play with us!” He yelled through cupped hands. Soda grabbed Steve and jerked him over to them almost immediately. Steve looked a little out of breath.

Darry sized Steve up for a second, before nodding to himself.

“You know how to play football?” He asked. Steve shrugged.

“A little bit.” He responded. Darry sighed, but looked them all over.

“Okay, Pony’s on my team, you three work together.” He leaned down and whispered to Pony, “We’re gonna kick their asses.” Pony nodded. “Don’t tell mom I said that, okay?” 

Pony forgot kids weren’t supposed to say bad words. He’d have to keep a handle on that.

“Okay, let’s kick their asses.”

Chapter Text

Pony was severely limited in his abilities. He already knew that, obviously. It had been made pretty clear on the first day. But now he was re-realizing it every day. 

He missed the level of independence he used to have. He could have walked around town with just a blade and no adults around, but now he wasn’t even allowed to go to the park with just Darry. It really threw a wrench in his plans.

Currently, Pony had his plans drawn out. Soda was asleep in his bed, snoring softly in his footie pajamas, and Pony was hard at work. He had a small light on, dim enough to not disturb Soda, but bright enough for him to see his plans for rescuing Johnny and Dallas that he was currently working on with his dad’s grease pencil. It wasn’t drawn very well, his hands were incapable of holding a pencil the right way, but it would have to do.

Step one- See Johnny. 

Pony knew it wasn’t much of a plan, but with his current limitations, it was the highest he could hope for. It was also the step he planned on completing tonight. His parents were asleep, Soda was asleep, he was sure Darry was asleep. It was perfect. 

He might have been a little bit tired, he was already used to going to bed at seven now, but he could power through it.

He stepped softly out into the dark hallway. He knew, logically, that there weren’t any monsters lurking in the shadows, but his child brain (and maybe part of his regular brain) were apprehensive. He quietly walked past his parents’ door, holding his breath as he passed. He couldn’t risk it. He needed to check on Johnny.

He slipped his shoes on, and he’d been right earlier about tying his shoes. He could get it done after only a few minutes of hard work. It wasn’t cold yet, so he didn’t feel the need to grab a jacket. He was ready to set out in just footie pajamas and boots. 

He hoped he didn’t get jumped. Did people jump toddlers?

He figured most people were decent enough to avoid that sort of thing. Even the tough greasers like Tim Shepard and Dallas Winston never jumped little kids. Scared them maybe, push them around a bit, but never really harm them. Pony figured a person who did had to gain some sort of sick pleasure from torturing little kids, and most people probably weren’t that twisted. It did mean that if he did get captured, it would probably be by someone he wouldn’t be able to escape.

He shivered in the cold, crossing his arms and holding them close to his body. He would get this done quick, there was no reason to worry. He’d be home again as soon as he checked on Johnny.

He patted down the sidewalk, whose cracks seemed more like dark ravines at night time. The wind wasn’t too cold, but it was enough to keep his mind sharp and on edge. He needed to focus if he was going to avoid getting kidnapped by some mysterious pervert. 

There wasn’t really anyone awake at this time of night, but it couldn’t help to be cautious. He didn’t have a single thing to distract him now. He guessed Darry would be proud of him for that. Not that he really knew what Darry, his Darry, was up to. He shivered again, thinking about his brothers back in his original reality.

Time travel was definitely real. He’d ruled this being a dream out a while ago, it was too real, and he had too much control over his actions. Which meant that he was truly here, and he didn’t really have any way back home.

He hoped Darry and Soda weren’t stuck with a fourteen year old Pony that had the mind of a toddler, they had enough on their plate. 

A loud crack sounded from an alleyway as Pony passed it, jolting him from his thoughts. A cat carrying a slice of moldy pizza ran out. 

Right, maybe Darry wouldn’t be proud after all. He got distracted even when he had nothing to do. His own brain was working against him. Pony picked up a rusty hanger. He could use a weapon for this mission, especially if he came across any perverts.

His tiny legs were sore, but he made it. Johnny’s house looked like every other house in the area, except it was a two-family home. Maybe more citylike than the neighborhood Pony lived in, but that was to be expected. Johnny lived in the midway point between his house and the Shepards’ “territory”, which was more in the downtown area. Not too long of a walk (when he had normal length legs) but long enough to clear his mind. Pony usually walked to Johnny’s house to clear his mind and take Johnny somewhere to spend time.

He’d missed his friend for months, and now Johnny was closer than ever. Pony walked around the house to the back, where Johnny’s bedroom was. He could peek through the window and go straight home. 

Except he couldn’t. He literally couldn’t peek through the window because he was too short. Johnny’s bedroom window seemed much higher than it had been in all of Pony’s memories, towering above him like it was. There wasn’t much in the yard for him to climb with either.

Maybe he could grab into the ledge of the window and pull himself up? 

Pony stood on his tiptoes and reached as high as he could, barely grazing the bottom of the ledge. He jumped up, managing to not grab the ledge, but fall flat on his ass. Tears sprung to his eyes and Pony wiped them away. Getting frustrated and throwing a tantrum wouldn’t help things.

He knew that logically, but it didn’t really help. All he wanted was to see Johnny. And go to sleep. He really was awfully tired. He laid in the cool grass, listening intently for any sign of life coming from Johnny’s room. Was he okay? Pony wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that.

He grumbled and forced himself back up. As much as he wanted to check on Johnny, he obviously wasn’t going to be able to. Not without help at least. He needed to make a plan B.

The walk back was a thousand times worse than the walk there. Pony had a stitch in his side, his mouth was dry, and he’d tripped over his own shoes several times. He was pretty sure his hands and knees were scraped, but he was too tired to really feel anything there besides a bit of stinging. 

He rounded the corner and saw that the living room lights were on. He stopped and hid behind the car.

Were his parents awake? What time was it? Pony looked at the sky. It was still pretty dark, but the moon was a lot lower than it had been before.

Lower? Damn. It had to be past midnight. Pony had been gone for a while.

But this was the middle of the night, surely his parents didn’t get up to check on him in the middle of the night, that was ridiculous.

Then he saw his mother, her long black hair done in matching twin braids, in her nightgown, tearfully searching the yard. His father appeared a moment later in the front door, flashlight in hand. 

Pony banged his head against the car, ignoring the tantrum building up. He needed to play this off.

“Mommy! I saw a kitty!” He did his best impression of toddling, which had come naturally before but looked weird now that he was doing it on purpose. His mother’s head whipped around when she heard his voice, one of her braids smacking his father in the face.

“Pony!” She ran and pulled him into her arms. She squeezed him incredibly tight and picked him up. His father came closer, the flashlight turned off in his hand. 

“Guess it really is about time to get the kids a pet.” His dad looked incredibly relieved, and definitely ready to release some of the tension. He always preferred that, ever since Pony could remember.

“This isn’t the time for joking, Darrel!” His mother snapped. Small drops of wetness traveled down his cheek, and he almost thought he was crying without meaning to, but no, his mother sniffled and pulled him closer somehow. 

Oh. Pony hadn’t ever wanted to make his mother cry. He’d never made his mother cry, not ever. He could feel her trembling. He doubted it was from the cold. Guilt slithered around in his gut and he let her squeeze him as much as she wanted. His father made a face and pulled her closer, until Pony was squished in the middle like a sandwich at the bottom of a lunch bag.

His dad laid a kiss to his mother’s forehead, because he really was that tall apparently, and stroked her back. 

“Sorry, Maria…” His father guided her inside, a strong arm around her waist. Scaring his mother didn’t feel worth it. Maybe when he was more awake and less guilty, he’d reconsider, but he felt awful right now.

“Honey, you need to promise me that you will never leave this house without anyone with you, understand?” His father had him sitting on the bathroom counter as he cleaned the scrapes Pony had forgotten about. His mother stood in the bathroom doorway, her tears nowhere to be seen. Her poker face was better than anyone he knew, now and back in his other life.

“Darrel, you have work in the morning, let me take care of this…” His mother carded her fingers through his father’s hair. His father smiled up at her.

“I think you’re more tired than I am, I’ll come to bed when I’m done with Ponyboy. Go rest.” His father spoke gently. His mother hesitated, but laid a kiss on Pony’s forehead and left.

“Now, you need to behave,” His father started, “You need to understand, women can’t handle that amount of stress! Your poor mother was so worried about you. You can’t do that to her.” His dad didn’t speak sharply or anything, but Pony still felt chastised. 

He figured women could definitely handle a lot more than that, but he wisely didn’t voice that opinion. It would have been strange coming from a toddler. His mother was very strong, even if she’d been stressed and scared tonight. Pony was sure she could have pulled herself together eventually, even if his father hadn’t stepped in to comfort her.

But he knew the core of what his dad was saying, which was ‘don’t upset my wife’. Pony got that loud and clear. He didn’t want to upset her in the first place anyway.

“You’re all patched up!” His dad pressed a wet kiss to each bandaged knee and picked Pony up. “I think your mother will only sleep tonight if she can hold onto you and make sure you don’t– eh, what was it? A kitty?” His dad asked. Pony nodded. “Well, no more chasing kitty cats tonight.” 

His dad carried him into his parent’s bedroom, plopping him down next to his mother.

“Delivery!” He whispered loudly. His mother wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. His dad got into bed with them and, once again, Pony was completely squished between them.

It was perfect.

He refused to be cowed into obedience. He didn’t want to scare his mother ever again, but he was a man on a mission. He had to accept that he might get in a bit of trouble. He’d definitely avoid going missing in the middle of the night again, but he couldn’t avoid running off completely. 

Right now, he wasn’t even really running off. He’d easily convinced Darry to ride his bicycle around town, lugging Pony around after him in their red wagon. Pony wondered if this was what riding in a chariot felt like. 

Darry rode over a bunch of bumps and Pony was thrown around a bit all over the wagon. Maybe it wasn’t exactly one-to-one with riding a chariot. 

“Can we go that way?” Pony yelled, pointing in the direction of Johnny’s house. Darry glanced back at him, red and sweaty, and nodded. Pony felt a bit bad taking advantage of his ten year old brother, but it was too convenient not to. Darry was always eager to show off how strong and endurant he was, and Pony was absolutely eager to oblige him. 

Darry was only about a street away from Johnny’s house now, and Pony was trying to think of a reason to get Darry to stop once they got there.

“Um- can we go that way some more?” Pony wasn’t close enough yet. Darry shook his head.

“No, Momma said to stay clear of that street.” Darry didn’t elaborate. Pony fumed. He was so close, yet so far. This was the furthest Darry would take him, apparently. He needed to think fast.

He watched the ground speed past him, and came up with a plan that he wasn’t that excited to carry out. Darry was having fun riding his bike, Pony didn’t want to ruin this for him, but he didn’t have a choice.

He stood up and jumped out of the wagon. 

The ground did not greet him gently. His knees were definitely more scraped than they’d been last night, his jeans now had big holes there, and there was blood dripping down staining the fabric. Pony cursed under his breath and looked back to see Darry running towards him, panic on his face.

“Pony are you okay? Did you fall out of the wagon?” Darry paled when he saw Pony’s scraped knees. “Momma’s gonna kill me!” He muttered. Pony stood up on shaky legs, and ran.

He probably wasn’t faster than Darry, but he knew Darry wouldn’t want to leave his bike unattended in their neighborhood. He had some time.

He could hear Darry yelling at him, and was satisfied to hear his voice getting further and further away. 

He got to the Cade's house, and realized very quickly that their car was gone. He knocked at the door, hoping that they left Johnny home alone and that he wasn’t smart enough to not answer the door for strangers yet. He glanced behind him and didn’t see Darry yet.

The door remained unanswered. Pony bit his lip. He got this far, he needed to gain something. He looked around wildly for literally anything that could make this worthwhile, considering he’d be in a lot of trouble once Darry captured him.

He tripped over the aged welcome mat. A lightbulb went off in his mind.

Spare keys. Everyone had them. Most people weren’t so stupid as to leave them under welcome mats, but Mr. Cade had never really been smart. Pony lifted it up and smiled at the keys he saw.

“Pony! I’m telling mom on you!” Darry was across the street, biking up to the Cade’s house with fury. Pony had forgotten that Darry could just get back on the bike. He snatched the keys up and put them in his tiny baby pockets. 

“Hi Darry.” He said with the sweetest smile he could make. Darry jutted his bottom lip out in a pout and grabbed Pony by his arms, lifting him up as much as he could and carrying him to the wagon.

“You stay there! I’m taking you home.” Darry was scowling at him, until he looked down and saw Pony’s knees again. “Momma’s gonna patch you up too. But I’m still telling her that you ran away.” 

Pony sighed. He didn’t want to disappoint her again so soon, but it was hard to be upset when he had the spare keys in his pocket. He just needed… a plan C? Or would it be plan B and a half? He’d gotten some success from it. 

It didn’t matter. He could revel in the partial victory for now.

Pony already knew this, but his parents were a lot softer than any of the other parents he’d met. His mother had given him a scolding while she cleaned his scrapes and sent him to the corner for five minutes. It gave him a lot to think about.

His parents had never really been in support of hitting them, in any way. Pony didn’t know any other parents that went out of their way to avoid hitting their kids.

Even Johnny’s parents were only slightly ostracized, and not even fully because of the constant suffering they put him through. Most people disliked them because they were loud neighbors, not because they beat their kid.

Steve’s dad had spanked him occasionally when he was a kid, from what Pony had gleaned over the years. Pony knew that it was not just socially acceptable, but encouraged. There were lots of people that thought Steve’s dad was probably a decent parent for it, even though anyone that knew Steve knew the opposite. 

Even Two-bit’s mom had smacked him around occasionally, even if it was light, and it never did anything to deter his behavior. 

Dallas didn’t speak a whole lot on his own childhood, but Pony couldn’t imagine any parent he knew would be able to resist hitting him. It sounded terrible, but Pony could see it in the adults around him. Half of them were just itching for a chance to teach a lesson.

It really made him wonder why his parents were so opposed. 

“Alright, honey. You can come out now.” His mother gently pulled him away from the corner and pet his head. He gave her the most obedient smile he could. “Don’t get cheeky, little boy.” She warned, but she couldn’t hide her amusement, “No more running away, Ponyboy. I mean it.” She said sternly. Pony nodded.

Actually, her softness made him wonder why other parents were so quick to hit their kids. He didn't know anything about parenting, but he was pretty sure he knew his parents were good ones.

Chapter Text

He had to be a hell of a lot more careful. No more was he allowed to be outside with just Darry watching. No, after his recent escapades, Pony found that his mom wasn’t letting him out of her sight at all. If she was in the kitchen, he had to be sitting on the counter. If she was folding laundry, he was sitting next to her, wrapped in a sweater just out of the dryer.

It was nice spending so much time with her, but it was frustrating knowing that he couldn’t do a single thing to save Johnny right now. All he could do was bide his time and wait for the first chance he got to escape and find him.

Did he have a plan for when he did? Not really. Would Johnny have any idea of who he was? Definitely not. But Pony craved Johnny’s companionship.

Right now, he was stuck helping her make chocolate chip cookies for the picnic they were having at the park. It was a Sunday, which usually meant they would go to church, but today his mom had decided that the Lord wouldn’t give them such perfect weather if he wanted them to sit inside all day. Pony figured a person could make the exact opposite connection, that the Lord sent them this nice weather to test their obedience towards him, but he was inclined to listen to his mom. It wasn’t like he wanted to spend the day in the hot church anyway, no matter what God thought.

Hell, even back in his normal life, he only ever thought about God when he thought about his mom. He wasn’t really sure he believed in that sort of thing anymore. Not since his parents had died.

“Here honey, I need you to lick this clean for me.” She handed him the wooden spoon she’d used to make the cookie dough. He took it from her, his clumsy fingers almost failing to grip it correctly. This body was annoying.

But it had it’s perks. 

He got to be lifted onto counters now. That was neat, at the very least.

He licked the spoon and watched her place the cookies into the oven. So far, he’d “helped” her with egg salad sandwiches, pasta salad, and a strawberry juice that he couldn’t remember her ever making before. He wondered just how much had changed in the time it had taken for him to grow up.

Were his parents different people when they died compared to when he’d been just born? It was a strange thought that kept plaguing him.

Darry and Soda were helping Daddy get the blanket and basket ready. He didn’t think his dad actually needed a lot of help, especially not from those two, but it was nice. It was interesting seeing how his parents chose to take things slow just so they could do it with them. Pony never noticed that when they were alive.

“Now, do you think this is enough for a picnic?” His mom faced him, her dark eyes flat on the bottom as she smiled. Pony licked his spoon and nodded.

It turned out the picnic was a simple one in the middle of the park, just out of sight of the playground. They were all done eating now, and his parents were just laying on the quilt and napping in the sun. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t have stopped him if they caught him heading off, at least if he was heading off in the direction of the playground.

If he was sneaky, he could go to the playground, go home to grab the keys, and then walk to Johnny’s house. It would take a long time; definitely long enough for his parents to eventually realize that he was missing, but it would be worth it.

He already felt guilty knowing how scared they would be, but it was the only chance he’d get for a long, long time. It was for Johnny.

He toddled off to the playground, where he knew Darry and Soda were already playing. There were a lot less kids at the park today, so he’d have to take extra care to avoid his brothers. He hid behind a tree as he staked them out.

Darry was pushing Soda in a swing. Neither of them were facing the road back home. He had a clear shot.

He ran, glancing behind him to make sure they didn’t look over and see him, and bumped into someone.

He was sprawled out on the concrete, right next to Steve. Steve was holding his nose and wailing, fat tears already dripping down his chin. Pony’s first thought was to roll his eyes, but he stopped himself.

This Steve was seven. He’d just pushed a seven year old down onto cement. Of course he was crying. A quick look behind him showed Darry already walking up. Pony bit his lip to keep from cursing.

This was his own fault.

“He pushed me!” Steve let his hands drop, revealing his bloody nose. Pony figured he bonked his head right into Steve’s face, considering the height difference.

“Nuh uh! It was an accident!” This situation was quickly getting out of control. Darry looked Steve up and down while Soda hugged him. 

“Do you wamme to kiss your booboo?” Soda asked, tiny eyebrows knitted together in concern. Steve shook his head vehemently.

“I ain’t a baby!” He sniffled, his voice weak and quiet. Steve wiped his nose with his bare arm, ignoring the streak of blood. Pony decided then and there that children were gross. And Steve was being a baby. Still though, he couldn’t help but feel bad looking at the scrapes on Steve’s knees. He was already a little roughed up, even before Pony bumped into him.

“I’m sorry...” Pony muttered.

“I don’t forgive you!” Steve threw mulch at him. Pony covered his face just in time, but it didn’t matter. Not really. Steve had missed by several feet.

“Don’t throw things at my little brother!” Darry yelled. The situation was quickly growing out of control. Pony was pretty sure things hadn’t gone this badly the first time around. Steve had been integrated into their little group fairly easily, from what he remembered. 

This was not easy, and Pony didn’t like it one bit. He wanted things to be the way they were. 

Didn’t he?

Obviously he had a few changes he wanted to make, like improving Johnny and Dally’s lives and preventing them from being fundamentally changed by the nonsense that ruled their world. But did he even want the rest of his life? Why would he settle for that when he could improve all of their lives?

Could he feasibly improve them all? Darry and Soda and Two-bit and Steve? 

Hell, could he somehow prevent his parents’ deaths while he was at it?

His pea-sized baby brain ached from his teenager (basically adult) thinking. He wondered, briefly, if that was a physical thing or a mental thing. 

Steve tumbled to the ground after Darry shoved him. Soda looked hesitant to step in, conflicted. Pony sighed. He had to fix this mess. He put himself between Darry and Steve, which wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do. But Darry wasn’t scary, not like this. He was just a ten year old that thought he was defending his baby brother. 

“Darry! No pushing!” He scolded. It even sounded like something a four year old would say, which was kind of an extra bonus. Darry crossed his arms and pouted, but he backed up away from Steve. Pony walked over to him and offered his hand. He didn’t think a seven year old was old enough to bat his hand away, but he was proven wrong. Steve’s chubby cheeks were red with embarrassment as he looked down at the ground, avoiding eye contact with all of them.

Steve was a lot more stubborn than Pony had ever given him credit for. How could a little kid be so against receiving help? It wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t right.

Pony was beginning to form an idea.

Pony was incredibly grateful for nap time. While Soda and Darry were at school, he spent most of his time with his mother. It was nice, of course. He didn’t think he could ever get sick of her, no matter what. 

But it was inconvenient when it came to planning.

The only time he got to himself was twelve-thirty to two. His mother rarely checked in on him while he was in his room; she was too busy cleaning around the house and prepping dinner. It gave him a good amount of time to really think things through.

He had his notebook on the floor as he connected the dots in his head.

It would be better for all of them if their childhood was changed considerably. They all influenced each other, and even if they didn’t, Pony didn’t want anyone to fall behind. That included Steve.

Steve was a tough nut to crack. Pony didn’t spend as much time with him back in his normal time, mostly because Steve preferred to hang out solely with Soda or Two-bit. But it didn’t mean he didn’t know him.

He knew Steve and his dad rarely talked, and that when they did, it was mostly yelling. He knew Steve’s mother was absent, whether she was dead or just gone, he didn’t know. That wasn’t the kind of question he’d ever felt was important enough to ask. 

He knew Steve was angry. He’d always known that, of course, but it had become clearer after everything that had happened. When he saw Steve’s anger, he thought of Bob, or Dallas. He didn’t see much Steve anymore.

But Steve was also quiet. The quietest out of the entire gang, besides Johnny. Unlike with Johnny, though, Steve wasn’t quiet because he didn’t feel the need to talk. Steve was genuinely shy. Steve would never admit it, but Pony knew it was true. He was loud with the gang, of course, but Pony saw him at school everyday.

Without Soda, and without the gang, Steve kept to himself. He could give a mean glare, the kind that made people jump, but he wouldn’t say a thing unprovoked. Steve was one of the toughest greasers Pony knew, but he still had his hangups, somehow.

Pony could see it now too. Steve, as a little kid, was a lot more obvious about his shyness. The way he avoided eye contact, how he only raised his voice past mumbling when he was angry or in pain. 

Even now, Steve only really showed himself when he was angry. It was weird, being able to see through him so clearly. 

Steve was annoying, but he wasn’t yet a Bob or a Dallas. Not now, as a sniffly first grader. 

Pony thought back to that as he pondered his new page, titled Steve . What could he even do about Steve? Was there anything a fourteen year old (let alone a four year old) could do? 

What did Steve even need to not become an angry, guarded, jerk?

A way to express his anger without violence, definitely. Pony wasn’t sure what exactly he could do about that, but he wrote it down.

A better dad? Steve’s dad sucked. He was absolutely the reason Steve was so insufferable. The man, like Steve, didn’t seem to be able to express any emotion besides anger and regret.

Well. 

Pony had a dad. A dad that he didn’t mind sharing. A pretty good dad, if he said so himself.

He rubbed his eyes.

The bad part about using naptime to plan; he still needed the nap.

The next time he saw Steve, he had a real plan.

One, get Steve fully integrated into the group.

Two, get Steve to come over to their house as often as possible.

Three, get Steve to actually like him this time around (which might end up being harder than he thought. He wasn’t so sure about this step).

He was at the park again, with his mom actually watching this time. She was focused on knitting a sweater for the coming chilly months, which meant she was less focused on him and his doings. This was decidedly a good thing. The more he behaved, the more she trusted him. He was still incredibly worried about Johnny, but he could only do so much. He comforted himself with the fact that originally, Johnny survived just fine before he met him.

As much as it pained him to stay low, he knew it was necessary. Besides, his goals were expanding considerably every day. Before, it was just Johnny and Dally, but now?

Pony wanted to change as much as he could. Maybe this time, Darry could go to college. Maybe Soda wouldn’t drop out. God, there were a million things he wanted to change, but he didn’t think he had the mental ability to do it all right now.

Being four years old had its downsides.

Steve was in a tree, throwing acorns at Soda and giggling when Soda threw them back. Pony didn’t pretend to understand whatever weird game they were playing. They seemed to enjoy themselves just fine.

He didn’t need to get involved yet anyway; his plan couldn’t start until Two-bit got here. For now, he was content sitting on the swing his mom had helped him onto five minutes ago (and then promptly forgot she’d left him on. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to come down anytime soon anyway). He watched the children playing around them, looking for familiar faces.

So far, he’d noticed a few greasers he recognized, but didn’t know the names of. They looked strange; all squishy faced and squeaky. But no actual buddies of his. Nobody he was close to in any capacity.

Until he glanced under the slide and saw a skinny little kid, about his age, with wild curly hair and a mess of freckles. He watched him from behind, unable to see his face.

He had a feeling he knew who it was, but it didn’t make a lot of sense to him. He hadn’t ever met Curly Shepard until he was ten and Curly eleven. That was when Curly had broken his arm (the first time).

He was sure if he’d seen Curly before then, he would have recognized him, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing him before that day.

He wasn’t super interested in befriending him right now. Curly was a distance away, and Pony preferred to keep it like that. He didn’t need any pals his own age to focus on right now, he had a mission. Besides, Curly was kind of annoying. Pony was already dealing with several little kids right now, Curly had the energy of like, three little kids at fifteen. He would be unbearable as an actual child.

“Are you stuck or something?” Steve was directly in front of him, and he hadn’t even noticed. He looked around quickly, but Two-bit still wasn’t there. 

He really needed him here; Two-bit was the best out of all of them at roping new people into the gang and making them feel welcome. Steve had played with Two-bit once now, he’d ben even more open to him than anyone else now.

“Where’s Soda?” It was kind of strange that Steve would leave Soda just to talk to him. He didn’t see Soda at the tree they’d been playing in earlier.

“He’s peeing in the sandbox.” 

Pony just sighed. Yeah, he definitely didn’t need to associate with any more kids than were necessary. The ones he had were more than enough.

“Who wants to play cops and robbers?” Two-bit had a large stick that he kept prodding people with. Right now, it was being used to threaten them into playing with him. Not that he really needed to do that to get people to play with him.

Pony looked over at Steve, who was poking his foot into the dirt and digging tiny holes.

“I wanna be on Soda’s team! Steve can be with you.” He just needed to force Steve to branch out a bit. 

Steve whipped his head around to look at him.

“I wanna play with Soda!” Steve whined. Pony should have seen that coming. Steve always wanted to be with Soda over anyone else, even when he was friends with the rest of the gang.

It made sense that Steve didn’t want to be teamed up with a guy he’d met once. Pony had to think fast.

“This way, when we fight, you can chase Soda and Two-bit can chase me!” He blurted. Steve stopped to consider it, which Pony found impressive for a seven year old. Two-bit nodded along.

“Yeah, you can help me with my evil plans while we catch the robbers. That's a good evil cop name, Pony. ‘Two-bit’.” Two-bit ruffled his hair. Pony felt kind of stupid. He was still messing his name up.

It felt wrong to call him Keith. 

“Nobody said nothing about evil cops.” Steve said, crossing his arms. Of course Two-bit would decide that the cops were automatically evil. Pony figured there was nothing wrong with that belief, so he let it be.

“It’s lots more fun like that, Stevie!” Soda was already bouncing with excitement.

Soda grabbed Pony’s hand and dragged him away to a tree. Their hideout, he figured. He turned back to see Two-bit dragging Steve in a similar manner.

Good. Steve would be Two-bit’s friend before the day ended. 

“We gotta steal their stuff, Pony!” Soda whisper-yelled. Their “stuff” was thick sticks, a shiny rock, and a shoe that had been abandoned in the mulch for the past several days. 

Pony nodded along. He would probably try and let Steve and Two-bit win this first round, so that they enjoyed playing together. Soda was a good sport about losing, even if he was competitive, so it wouldn’t be a big deal if he lost.

Pony’s plan was going great.

Currently, they had one of the sticks and the shoe. Steve being good at this game wasn’t surprising, he’d always been somewhat athletic. But what Pony hadn’t expected was Two-bit being so good at it.

Two-bit was stronger, faster, and bigger than him and Soda. Pony had completely given up on playing easy; he was red and sweaty trying to escape from them. He wasn’t as fast as he used to be, and he was nowhere as nimble. Soda was enjoying himself just running around, but Pony couldn’t just enjoy himself.

Every time he was tagged, he felt a big ball of something inside of him, twisting and turning, making him irritable. He knew he shouldn’t win this game, but this thing inside of him lurched at the idea of losing.

He could feel tears in his eyes, stuck under Two-bit, who was arresting him. He wanted to scream and kick, do whatever it took to win.

It was a very nasty feeling, whatever it was. 

“Aww, you gonna throw a tantrum?” Steve teased, as he arrested Soda. Soda was too busy giggling and rolling around in the dirt to focus on it.

Pony swallowed his anger. He couldn’t ruin this, even if his toddler instincts were working against it. Steve was getting along with Two-bit, planning their attacks and their defenses together. He couldn’t cut this short by crying and catching his mom’s attention. The last thing he needed was to get taken home. 

What if they stopped playing together when he left? What if his mom made Soda come home too? Steve wouldn’t even want to talk to him if he was responsible for cutting their play time short.

But he wasn’t having even a bit of fun.

He didn’t answer Steve. He wouldn’t have been able to say anything nice. His head ached; he had probably missed too many nap times. That was quickly catching up with him.

“Aw, be nice Stevie. He’s only four.” Two-bit helped him back up, patting his head. “He’s just a baby robber.” 

Two-bit’s hand in his hair felt very nice. He leaned against his pudgy body, his eyes heavy. 

He woke up on the couch, head resting on his dad’s lap. He looked around, confused.

When had he fallen asleep?

“Where’s Soda?” He sat up and looked behind the couch. It looked like it was just him and his dad at home, but he didn’t know how.

His dad pulled him down onto his lap, chuckling.

“I dropped by to say hi after work. You were sleeping in the field, buddy. Maybe we shouldn’t have stopped that second nap…” His dad tickled him before letting him down on the floor. Pony was still a bit confused, it was dark outside. 

He’d clearly slept a while. He felt a lot better, but now he was nervous. Had Steve played well with Soda and Two-bit while he’d been out? Had his plan worked or not?

It was a lot of thinking for his stupid little four year old brain. He sat on his dad’s feet as he watched television. 

If it worked, great. If it hadn’t, he could always try again. 

Maybe this time, he’d make sure to actually take his naps too. He needed his energy if he was going to accomplish anything.