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Johnny didn’t often look forward to Fridays all that much. Sure, it meant the weekend, a couple days off school, maybe a movie with Ponyboy or a football game with the gang. More significantly, though, weekends meant a lot more time there wasn’t any place he’s supposed to be. For all its faults, school did keep him away from home while still bein’ inside where it was warm and dry. This week, though, it feels like his teachers and classmates were competing with his parents for who could make his life most miserable, and then he ends up sitting in detention for two hours when he should have already been gone. Johnny can’t remember a time recently he’s been so relieved to be walking back to their neighborhood with Ponyboy, half listening to him ramble about his history test he’s sure he failed (while Johnny’s sure Pony didn’t) and the way track practice went and how much homework he has this weekend.
“Johnnycakes?”
“Hm?”
“Asked how your week’s been.”
Guess he wasn’t quite half listening. Johnny just shrugs.
“C’mon, feel bad that ‘m taking over the whole conversation.”
“I like hearin’ ya talk, though. You know that.” Johnny smirks a little at the blush he can see creeping over Pony’s pale face. He makes it way too easy.
“I know, but I was just wondering…” Ponyboy starts again after walking a few more steps, only to trail off. He’s eyeing the bruise on Johnny’s cheek, even though it don’t look half bad anymore. Good thing Ponyboy didn’t see it Wednesday night - would’a lost his mind. And that ain’t the worst that happened even just this week.
They’ve reached the corner where they part ways. Johnny scuffs the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk, follows the motion with his eyes so he doesn’t see Pony lookin’ at him like that. “See ya later?” he murmurs, more like a question than he intended.
Ponyboy frowns. “You’re not coming over?”
“Think I need to head home, Pone, I mean-”
Pony cuts him off. “Sorry, wasn’t really askin’. C’mon.” He grabs the sleeve of Johnny’s jean jacket with a smirk and starts half dragging him towards the Curtis house.
“Haven’t been there in- slept out in the lot last night, so I don’t-”
“You’re staying over then? Even more reason to, I think,” Ponyboy says as he marches up the porch steps. He glances over at Johnny quickly, hoping his expression doesn’t betray his nerves. Pushing Johnny too hard to do something can lead to him doing the opposite, especially when he might feel like he’s bothering other people. He’s stubborn that way.
Good thing Pony’s stubborn, too. He stops with his hand frozen on the doorknob and fully turns around to look at Johnny, taking in his rumpled clothes with a new almost tear in the knee of his jeans and the bags under his eyes that are always there but seem a little darker than usual, almost matching the bruise trailing down his jaw. “Soda’s gonna be out ‘til who knows when, takin’ Sandy somewhere with Steve and Evie. And Darry works late. Ya ain’t just going to leave your best friend all alone, are you?”
Johnny shakes his head a little at Ponyboy’s dramatics, but he can’t keep a hint of a smile off of his face. He doesn’t respond out loud, just pushes past Pony through the door and into the house. Pony smiles so wide behind him, Johnny can almost hear it.
“I’m gonna shower, then we can find somethin’ to eat,” Ponyboy says as he drops his things right inside the doorway. Johnny makes a mental note to move the stuff so Darry doesn’t holler about it even as he’s heading towards the couch and flopping down face first with a sigh. It's strange how being in the Curtis house for even a couple of seconds makes him feel so much better. Johnny doesn't really know how to explain it – he can just be here.
They eat leftovers for dinner, with Ponyboy insisting Johnny take more than he was originally going to and Johnny insisting they eat more food than just cake like Pony wanted to. It’s nice, sitting side by side on the counter with their shoulders brushing and legs swinging back and forth. Pony likes to sit here, but Darry makes him eat at the table more often than not. It’s the comfortable kind of quiet Johnny’s pretty sure only exists when Ponyboy’s around, the two of them just existing in the same space together. Pony finishes eating first and leans his head on Johnny’s shoulder while he waits for him.
It’s rare to have the house empty like this. As much as he loves all the Curtis brothers, and the whole gang, Johnny could get used to it. It’s almost like they live there, just the two of them hopping down from the counter in sync without a word spoken, knowing that Pony’s going to wash the dishes they just used and Johnny’s going to dry them and put them away. They end up on the couch, Johnny flipping mindlessly through one of Ponyboy’s notebooks looking for doodles in the margins while Pony starts on his mountain of homework.
“This is impossible,” Pony complains not five minutes into working on a math worksheet. “Can’t imagine why anyone would voluntarily do math all day.”
“Who in the world’s doin’ that?”
“Math teachers.”
“Ya know teachers are real people who have lives outside of class, right?” Johnny teases. “They don’t sleep at school.”
“Shut up.” Pony shoves Johnny lightly. “Actin’ like I’m five years old.”
“Well, when you’re whining like that…”
“Johnny, shush!” Ponyboy flops over on his side dramatically, ending up sprawled across Johnny’s lap. “Why don’t ya help me out instead of teasing me?”
“If you’re stuck ain’t a chance I’m going to know. Just ask Darry later.”
“Now that just ain’t true at all,” Ponyboy insists. “You’re plenty smart.”
“Right, if ya say so.”
“I do say so.”
“You’re the smart one, Pone.” Johnny grabs the worksheet out of Pony’s hand. “Don’t think I’ll be any…oh, simplifying expressions? What’s so confusin’ about that? Just have to keep making the numbers smaller on both sides ‘til there’s nothin’ left to do.”
Johnny can’t help but laugh at the look Ponyboy shoots up at him. He puts the worksheet down and runs a hand through Pony’s still slightly damp hair.
“Sure your math class ain’t as bad as mine today,” he says suddenly. Johnny doesn’t even know why he opened his mouth - something about having Ponyboy close like this makes him want to be all honest and open and this is something small enough that it feels…safe, he guesses. He keeps talking instead of thinking any more about any of that.
“Didn’t mean to fall asleep - was tryin’ to hold out until science, at least, that teacher don’t expect me to do nothin’ - but just couldn’t. Teacher shook the desk to wake me up by kicking the table leg but got me right in the shin the second time. Already awake then, too.” He rolls his eyes a little, makin’ light of it.
Ponyboy’s jaw drops. “He apologize at least?”
“I mean, kinda. Said sorry in addition to sayin’ I shouldn’t be sleepin’ in class if I want to do well and make anything of my life, blah blah blah. Other kids thought it was real funny. Surprised ya didn’t hear about it before the end of the day.”
“Assholes,” Pony decides. “Feel like that has to be breaking some kinda rule since teachers are supposed to look out for students and all.”
“Eh, clearly an accident.”
“Sorry.”
“Ain’t your fault.”
“Still.” Ponyboy reaches his hand up to push Johnny’s hair back a bit, lightly tracing his bruised face with his knuckles. “You don’t deserve…any of that.”
Johnny just nods. He knows Pony’s hardly talking about some annoying teacher kicking him; odds are that ain’t ever happening again – unlike a lot of other things.
“Prolly don’t want your clean self laying there,” Johnny says after a minute, not wanting to get lost in those thoughts. “These jeans are grimy as hell, honestly.”
“Hm, don’t care - or, I have pajamas you can wear. I’m tired of homework.”
“Ain’t done much homework.”
“Well then I’m too tired to do homework. I’m tellin’ you, we had to run a whole marathon at track today.”
“A marathon, huh?”
“Don’t give me that. Definitely more than a mile of just running and running. Thought I was gonna die right there.”
“Right, a mile and a marathon are basically the same thing.”
Ponyboy shoves Johnny with a roll of his eyes and shuffles down the hall to his and Soda’s room. Johnny follows a moment later after piling Pony’s school supplies on the table instead of all over the couch and floor where people were bound to sit and walk all over them. He enters the bedroom just in time to catch a pair of pajama pants Ponyboy flings towards his face. Johnny smiles a little in thanks. He turns to go back to the living room, but Pony half leaps across the room to grab Johnny’s hand.
Johnny can feel himself blushing the tiniest bit at Ponyboy’s clinginess. Thankfully there isn’t much light anymore. He raises his eyebrows a little, a silent question.
“Soda can take the couch at whatever godforsaken hour he stumbles in here,” Pony grumbles without any bite behind the words. Johnny just nods. He stays in the room while Ponyboy leaves to brush his teeth or something, changing into the pajamas while he’s gone.
Pony returns with a grin on his face, almost as if he didn’t think Johnny would still be there. He grabs his best friend’s hand again and walks backward until he runs into the bed, dragging Johnny along with him.
It’s awhile before either of them say anything. Johnny almost thinks Ponyboy’s asleep when he hears him whisper in the darkness.
“Why were you at school so late?”
Johnny bites on the inside of his cheek, thinking. Pony keeps talking. “I mean I like walkin’ home with ya, of course, but I had track practice for a couple hours. Didn’t expect anyone to still be around. You in trouble?”
“Nah,” Johnny says automatically. He doesn’t need anybody to worry. It’s another few seconds before a hand makes its way across the bed and Ponyboy’s pinky finger wraps around his. Johnny sighs silently.
“Just got detention is all,” he explains quietly. “History teacher got tired of me bein’ late to his class.”
“That’s a stupid reason.”
Johnny shrugs. He figures there are plenty of dumber reasons he’s seen greasers get in trouble, things that are even more out of their control. Being on time is an actual school rule at least.
Johnny’s almost asleep when Pony pipes up again. “Why were you late?”
And if that’s not the million dollar question. He almost thinks to lie – wouldn’t be the first time he kept somethin’ to himself for Pony’s own good. But it’s dark and he’s tired and this week has been long and terrible, so Johnny tightens his finger around Ponyboy’s and says, “Stupid socs been hangin’ round my locker between classes, sometimes. Easier to just come in a little late and avoid ‘em.”
“They…”
“Can’t do nothin’ too bad at school,” Johnny reassures Pony. “Just want it to stay that way. I ain’t scared of ‘em.”
“Course not.” Ponyboy slides over and wraps his arms around Johnny, burying his face in his shoulder. “You’re the bravest kid I know, Johnny Cade.”
Johnny ain’t too sure about that, but he smiles all the same. He thinks about Pony’s comment and figures he means it for more than just a couple of annoying guys tryin’ to push him around, even if he doesn’t know quite how much that more includes. The comfort of his best friend’s words and his arms still tight around him are enough to help Johnny drift off to sleep.