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Soda had never seen someone so beat up.
He had tended to lots of cuts and bruises, from fights and beatings and accidents, but they had never looked like this.
In his arms, Johnny was a trembling mess, nearly unrecognizable. He was getting blood all over Soda’s t-shirt, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The boy had managed to get the story out, the Mustang and the rings and the threats. Finally, when he had apparently deemed the story over (despite the many questions Soda had), he had turned his face into Soda’s neck, dissolving into harsh cries again. Soda glanced up at the others.
Ponyboy was stark pale, looking like he might be sick. Two-Bit was next to him, a hand on Pony’s shoulder, probably gripping harder than was called for. Soda hadn’t seen Two looking so serious since his parents’ funeral. Darry had run from the porch, looking torn between tracking down the people who did this and ripping Johnny from Soda to take care of him himself. Steve knelt next to Soda, curling and uncurling his hands as if itching for a fight. Soda caught Dally’s eye, expecting the fiery rage that often overtook the other guy. Instead, he was shocked to see that Dally looked afraid. That alone made Soda feel nauseous.
“Let’s get him back to the house,” Darry said, breaking the silence. Soda struggled to his feet, trying his best not to jostle the boy in his arms too much. Every other person reached out, willing to take Johnny if needed. It would have been funny if Soda weren’t so scared.
By the time they got Johnny settled on the couch, the kid had passed out again. Darry appeared with their first aid kit, kneeling next to the sofa. Soda backed away, feeling Steve’s hand on his shoulder. For a moment, they all watched as Darry rummaged through the first aid kit. Finally, Darry sternly said, “Y’all can’t just stand there. Sit down. It’ll be a while, and there ain’t nothing you can do anyway.”
Slowly, they all did as asked. Dally took the only chair besides the recliner, which no one ever sat in except for Darry. The rest of them scattered around the room. Ponyboy, who usually did his best to appear tuff in front of everybody, leaned into Soda, who wrapped an arm around him. A surge of protectiveness flowed through Soda. That could have easily been Pony. The kid was only thirteen, still a baby in Soda’s eyes. He squeezed Ponyboy tightly to him, pressing a kiss to the kid’s hair. It was a testament to how nervous everyone was that no one teased him for it.
Two-Bit turned on the television, but Dally turned it back off and sat down again before Soda had even realized the other guy had stood. It was silent for almost five minutes before a groan escaped the patient on the couch.
“Dally?” Johnny’s broken voice shattered the quiet in the room. Dally looked stricken for a second, pale and twitchy, and Soda wondered vaguely if he would be sick. But Dally slowly got up from his chair, kneeling next to Darry. Tentatively, he placed a hand on Johnny’s shoulder.
“Right here, kid,” Dally said softly. It was the gentlest Soda had ever heard him. He knew Dally had a soft spot for Johnny (which was pretty much the only soft thing about him), but this was surprising.
A sob broke through the air, and everyone winced. Darry whispered something to Dally, who shot him an angry look. Darry glared back, the only one willing to stand his ground against an incensed Dally, and slowly, Dally reached up and ran a hand through Johnny’s hair.
“You gotta get this cut, kid,” Dally said. “It’s always in your eyes.” He continued to comb through Johnny’s hair, and Soda was sure this was the strangest thing he had ever seen.
Darry busied himself with cleaning Johnny’s cuts with antiseptic, making the kid cry out. Two-Bit stepped out of the house, Steve close on his heels. Soda was almost tempted to join them, but he couldn’t bear to leave. Besides, he could hear the sound of Two-Bit retching over the porch railing. Soda couldn’t blame him–he felt sick watching the pain his friend was in.
Two-Bit returned after a moment, wiping his mouth and looking pale. It took Steve longer, and he came back smelling like cigarette smoke. Nonetheless, by the time Darry had bandaged Johnny up, everyone was there, anxiety and tension filling the room like a gas. Darry got to his feet, going into the bathroom to put the first aid kit back. He didn’t come back out, and Soda wondered if Darry felt as sick as the rest of them.
Johnny whimpered, eyes closed. A tear slid down the kid’s bruised cheek, sliding onto the fresh bandage covering the massive gash down his face. Slowly, Dally got to his feet, and Soda wondered if he had had enough. Soda was honestly a little proud of his friend for not having run off the minute they got Johnny inside.
Instead, Dally gently (so careful, tender in a way Soda had been sure Dally wasn’t capable of) propped Johnny’s shoulders up, sliding under him before allowing Johnny to lie back down, head in Dally’s lap. The kid made another noise, a keening sound that made Soda instinctively tighten his grip on Ponyboy. Dally’s right hand wove its way into Johnny’s hair again, while his left gently cradled the side of Johnny’s face, wiping away a tear.
Soda was almost sure he was dreaming. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Dally touch anyone longer than five seconds, unless it was to beat the shit out of them. Even Johnny, who certainly got more from Dally than anyone else, rarely got more than a quick ruffle of his hair or maybe a pat on the shoulder. One of the few times had been four months ago, the day after Soda’s parents died. Dally had kept his hand on Soda’s shoulder for nearly an hour while Steve was gone at work, covering the shift for Soda. However grounding and comforting it was, and however grateful Soda was, it had still been less than what he was seeing now.
Darry emerged from the bathroom again, looking like Superman, shoulders back and expression calm. The only giveaway was the very, very slight redness to his eyes, nearly unnoticeable. Soda’s heart clenched as he imagined his big brother trying to cry quietly and quickly all by himself so he could come back and be strong for the rest of them.
Which he did, bending down and putting a steadying hand on Two-Bit’s shoulder, whispering something. Two-Bit nodded, leaning into the touch. Darry squeezed once, before letting his friend go and turning to Steve, who leaned against the wall separating the kitchen and the living room.
Firmly but gently, Darry steered him to the seat Dally had vacated, murmuring something quietly into Steve’s ear. Steve scowled, but allowed himself to be forced into a sitting position, clearly exhausted as he melted into the chair. He’d been working more than Soda even, forcing his body into uncomfortable positions to get under cars.
The other two settled, Darry turned to his brothers. Soda wished he weren’t so desperate for the comfort only his brother provided, but he was. He needed Darry to tell him things would be okay.
Darry knelt, eye level with Soda and Ponyboy.
“How are you two doing?” he asked softly.
Ponyboy trembled against Soda’s side. Soda couldn’t imagine if it was Steve on that couch right now. It was hard enough seeing Johnny in so much pain. His best friend? It was awful just to think of. Neither of them answered.
Darry smiled gently. “He’s gonna be okay. It looks worse than it is. He’s gonna be sore, but he’ll be up and running around like normal before you know it. You guys found him. You did good. I’m real proud of you.”
Soda’s vision went blurry, hot tears flooding his eyes. Darry chuckled softly, reaching out and putting his hand on the side of Soda’s face. Soda pushed down the embarrassment as he leaned into his brother’s palm. Darry put his other hand on Pony’s shoulder and tugged them both into a hug. Soda allowed himself just a moment to bury his face in Darry’s neck, hiding his tears and soaking Darry’s shirt. Darry didn’t pull away, allowing his brothers to be the ones to decide when it was over.
When Soda pulled away, he felt better. Still afraid and angry and horrified and sad, but the weight of it felt lighter. Darry kissed the side of Ponyboy’s head as the youngest pulled away too.
Darry finally returned to Dally and Johnny. Dally hadn’t looked up once, eyes only on Johnny. The kid was sound asleep, finally quiet and still. The hand that had once been on Johnny’s face had drifted down, resting over the kid’s heart, rising and falling steadily as Johnny breathed.
Darry put his hand on Dally’s shoulder. The other boy flinched, looking up at Darry with wide eyes. He relaxed minutely when he realized who was above him, letting out a breath and looking back down at Johnny. Darry sat on the arm of the sofa, something rarely allowed in the house out of fear of breaking the furniture. Tonight, rules could be broken, surely. The hand slid to rest between Dally’s shoulder blades. It spoke to just how upset Dally was that he didn’t smack Darry away.
“Y’all need some sleep,” Darry said after a while.
“I ain’t tired,” Two-Bit said immediately. The others echoed the sentiment, Soda included. He was exhausted, but the idea of going to bed right now, when Johnny was still so injured, was sickening.
“You’ll be asleep the minute your head hits the pillow,” Darry replied. “I know you don’t wanna be away from Johnny. But he needs some good rest, and so do the rest of you. He ain’t going anywhere, and I promise I’ll wake y’all up if something happens.”
No one moved, but Soda felt his resolve break. Darry had it under control. And he had a point: Soda’s aching feet craved the sweet release of his bed. And the way Pony was slumped against him told Soda that the kid was already half-asleep.
“Steve, Two, you can take my-” Darry cut himself off, clearing his throat. “The spare room. I don’t wanna hear no complaining about sharing the bed. It’s got plenty of room and it ain’t like you two haven’t shared before.”
It was a testament to the oddity of the night that neither of them complained, simply retrieving a spare blanket from the linen closet and retreating to the bedroom that had once belonged to Darry.
“You two get to bed too,” Darry said to Soda and Pony. “I promise I’ll get you if anything happens, alright?”
Soda nodded. He trusted his brother. He dragged Pony up, steering the kid into the bedroom with one last look over his shoulder. Darry was speaking quietly to Dally, and Soda vaguely wondered what they were talking about. But the minute he saw his bed, he decided it didn’t matter. He made Pony change into pajamas, pulling some on himself before clambering into bed. The moment he lay down, Pony had attached himself to Soda, his face turned into Soda’s collarbone. Soda prayed that the kid wouldn’t have nightmares. His baby brother needed sleep, and honestly, so did Soda.
He kissed the top of Ponyboy’s head, eyes shuttering closed before another thought could hit him.
—✯—
“He’s alright, Dal.”
Darry felt Dally’s tense frame shudder once, hand fisting on Johnny’s chest before flattening back out. “No, he’s not.”
Darry sighed, trying to decide if he should remove his hand from Dally’s back. It felt like a ticking time bomb–how long before Dally exploded? “No, I guess he isn’t. But he will be. He’s tough. He’s taken worse.”
“He ain’t never cried like that.” Dally’s voice shook in a way Darry had only heard it a few times.
The kid had a point. Johnny had shown up beaten six ways to Sunday plenty, sporting terrible bruises and cuts from his own parents. But he’d never shown much emotion about it. Very occasionally, he’d let a few tears fall, but even that was rare. The meltdown Johnny had had in Soda’s arms was frightening. The kid had clearly been terrified, and Darry couldn’t blame him.
“I’m gonna kill those Socs,” Dally said, voice some odd mix between cold and shaking.
“No, you’re not,” Darry said immediately. He certainly couldn’t blame Dally. It had already crossed Darry’s mind plenty. But selfishly, Darry couldn’t take it if any of them ended up in the cooler, or worse, over this. They had just gotten Dally back last month, after he got locked up shortly after Darry’s parents were killed. Darry had felt sick nearly every day waiting for the call to come pick Dally up.
“They gotta pay for this, Darry,” Dally snapped. If it weren’t for Johnny asleep in his lap, Dally would surely have been up and pacing the floor angrily. But as it was, he hunched in on himself, bristling under Darry’s hand.
Darry sighed. If it had been Two-Bit, Darry would have already hauled him into a hug, holding him until he wasn’t so wound up. If it were Steve, he would have taken him out to the porch, handed him a cigarette, and talked about football until he wasn’t shaking. If it were Soda, he would have taken him into the room that had once belonged to their parents, tucking him under the flowered comforter and smoothing his hair out until he could breathe again. If it were Ponyboy, he would have taken him outside and tossed a ball to him, redirecting his mind until he didn’t seem quite so terrified. If it were Johnny, Darry would have made him a bowl of soup and told him he was glad the kid was there until it didn’t seem like he was going to take off.
But it wasn’t any of them. It was Dally, and Darry didn’t know how to stop this. But he knew he had to try, or risk losing Dally in ways none of them could come back from. Something about this felt pivotal. It reminded Darry of a poem he’d read back in school, one Ponyboy had just recently studied too. Two roads diverged in a wood. Darry had to pick one, and it would make all the difference.
“Johnny needs you.”
Dally’s head snapped up, finally looking at Darry. Darry was shocked to see tears brimming in the boy’s eyes.
Darry knew that this was a minefield. Crying was the ultimate sign of weakness for guys like them. He’d never witnessed Dally shed even a single tear. He’d seen it from the others, but that had been, for the most part, in times of true distress, in the privacy of the Curtis home. It wasn’t like there were weekly bawlfests. Usually, they got defensive about it, trying to hide it and force it to stop. It was extremely vulnerable, and if there was one thing everyone knew Dally hated, it was being vulnerable. If Darry said the wrong thing, Dally would surely close off whatever remained open in his heart, shutting himself off forever.
“I thought about running off when my parents died.” He had never said it aloud, couldn’t make himself voice the guilty words. “When I realized that I was going to have to give up everything and be a parent to Soda and Pony. I thought about it. I almost did it. I had the stuff packed and the note written.”
Dally’s face contorted with such shock that Darry very nearly laughed. But that was just about the worst thing he could possibly do, so he pressed on.
“And then, believe it or not, it was Two-Bit who stopped me. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t even realize what I was doing. I think he thought I was moving stuff out of my parents’ room. He walked into the kitchen and asked me why I wasn’t making breakfast. I told him I didn’t feel like it, and he sat down across from me, just about as serious as I’ve ever seen him, and said, ‘Too bad.’ I thought about hitting him, honestly. But then he said, ‘Your brothers need you. You need them too.’ He ended up making breakfast that morning, ‘cause I was busy tearing up that note and unpacking.”
It was a bizarre story to anyone who knew Two-Bit. But he had a knack for getting real serious when it mattered, especially for Darry.
“Johnny needs you, and I think you need him too,” Darry said. This was the moment that mattered most: if Dally heard the important part, and didn’t just hear that Darry thought he needed someone. “So don’t do something stupid, ‘cause neither of you will survive it.”
He waited, almost able to hear the phantom ticking of the live bomb next to him. Dally looked back down at Johnny, and Darry wished he could see the guy’s face, just for a chance to know what he was thinking.
It was silent other than Johnny’s sleeping breath for a long while. Finally, Dally drew in a long breath. “Okay.”
Darry felt a surge of relief. He knew Dally well enough to know that right now, Dally had no intention of leaving or doing anything he couldn’t take back.
Darry squeezed Dally’s shoulder as he stood. “I’m going to bed. Try to get some sleep, too. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Dally didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to.
—✯—
Johnny awoke to shouting. His eyes flew open, and it took him a second to register that the sound had been coming from him. His mouth snapped closed, but his lungs couldn’t seem to take in air. He gasped, trying to sit up.
“Johnny!” Something kept him from rising, a strong force on his chest. Johnny glanced around wildly, before his eyes settled on a face right above him.
Dally was glaring down at him, a look usually reserved for Two-Bit that meant ‘You’re being an idiot’. “Johnny, stop moving, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
Johnny stilled, knowing Dally was telling the truth. He forced a deep breath, trying to remember what was going on. The first thing he realized was that he was resting on something other than the couch. As he looked up at Dally’s face again, it very quickly made sense that he was lying in Dally’s lap. Embarrassment flooded through him and he renewed his struggle to sit up.
Dally had always been stronger than him. “Johnny, knock it off!”
Johnny was torn between fleeing in embarrassment and obeying Dally’s commanding voice. The choice was made for him, though, since Dally’s hand was splayed across his chest and refused to move.
“You’re fine, just lie down,” Dally said irritably. Johnny rolled his eyes, but stopped resisting. Especially since the longer he was awake, the more he realized he was in pain. A lot of it, actually.
Memories of a Mustang, of Socs, of rings glinting in the moonlight before making contact with his face.
Johnny gasped, feeling panic seep into his chest.
The vile words that the men had jeered at him between punches echoed in his ears. The threats, worse than he’d ever heard from his parents, ones that the Socs would surely act on, made him nauseous.
Suddenly, Johnny was yanked up and back. Before he could process it, he was sitting up, leaning against something.
Dally.
Dally had pulled him into his lap, a hand on the back of his neck guiding Johnny’s head to rest on Dally’s shoulder. It was as comforting as it was mortifying.
“Stop,” Dally said gruffly. “You’re alright. Those bastards ain’t here, and I ain’t letting nobody near you, got it?”
A sob tore its way out of Johnny’s mouth. He had been so terrified. He had tried so hard to keep his cool, to keep from letting the Socs get the satisfaction of seeing him break. But at the end, when he was sure he wasn’t going to survive it, he’d cried out. He’d called for all the gang, but he’d begged for Dally the most.
He threw an arm around Dally, anchoring himself further. It felt like a dam had broken as tears flooded out of him, dampening Dally’s shirt.
Strong arms tightened around him, expertly avoiding the parts that hurt. The hand on the back of his neck wasn’t threatening, but grounding, keeping him pressed against Dally. “I gotcha. It’s alright, Johnnycakes.”
Johnny, if possible, sank further into Dally. They sat there for a while, Dally unmoving as Johnny bawled all over him.
After a bit, though, a thought struck Johnny. He pulled away, needing to look at Dally. He gripped his friend’s shoulders desperately. He needed Dally to listen. “Dally.”
Dally raised an eyebrow. “Kid, lay back down-”
“No, Dally!” Johnny snapped. Dally looked shocked for a moment. “Listen!”
Dally raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, Jesus-”
“You can’t go after them,” Johnny implored. “You can’t go back to jail, alright? I-”
Dally’s face did something strange as Johnny spoke, a look that Johnny had never seen before. But then, he interrupted Johnny. “I know, kid. I know. I won’t. I swear.”
Johnny stared at Dally for a moment, trying to decide if the man was being honest. But Dally didn’t often lie to Johnny, and something in his eyes said he wasn’t lying then either. Johnny’s breath caught as his tears renewed. Dally guided him back down, adjusting so that they were lying down, Johnny still cradled against Dally’s shoulder. He felt like a child, and he knew that in the morning, when he remembered this, he would be mortified. But at the moment, all he felt was relief.
He was safe. He was in the Curtis home, the only place in the world where he knew he wasn’t in danger. His best friend, the man he privately considered a brother, had a hold of him. Dally wasn’t going anywhere. All his friends were asleep in the house, Two-Bit’s loud snoring echoing down the hall. Tomorrow, he would wake up to the smell of eggs and chocolate cake and the sounds of Soda and Steve fighting over the only non-wobbly chair. He would be allowed to lie on the couch all day if he wanted, and Two-Bit might even let him pick the channel.
“Go to sleep, Johnny,” Dally murmured. The man sounded half-asleep himself, and something about that made Johnny’s eyes shutter closed.
—✯—
In the morning, Darry found Johnny and Dally curled up on the couch, Dally’s arms wrapped protectively around the younger boy. He began breakfast quietly, hoping to give both boys some much-needed rest. Two-Bit padded into the room not long after, stealing Darry’s mug from his hands and sipping his coffee. Darry rolled his eyes, resigning himself to the fact that he had lost his cup and pouring himself another. Slowly, the kitchen filled itself with the rest of the guys, all of whom remained quiet and on their best behavior. At least, until Soda and Steve began to squabble over the best chair at the table. What began in whisper-yells ended in Soda on the floor and Two-Bit choking on coffee as he laughed.
Dally and Johnny appeared in the doorway moments later, Johnny grinning and Dally looking murderous.
Darry chuckled to himself as he checked on the cake in the oven. Dally and Steve were shouting at each other, and below that, Ponyboy and Johnny could be heard taking bets on who would win in a fight.
Things were still scary and uncertain, but right now, they were all safe and together. Darry wished, for just a moment, that he could freeze time like this. But as it was, Darry wasn’t really a superhero, and he didn’t have any supernatural powers that he knew of.
So instead, he pulled the cake out, batting Two-Bit’s hand away from the still-steaming dessert.
“Johnny gets the first slice,” Darry announced. The room chorused with groans, except for Johnny, who laughed triumphantly.
As Darry cut the cake, he heard Johnny whisper to Ponyboy, “I’ll split it with ya.”