Chapter Text
The moment Darry locked eyes with Ponyboy from the bleachers was when he knew he had raised his kid brother right.
The 15 year old was cheering with his friends on the track, practically body slamming each other at their team’s first place win. In the darkness of night, the fluorescent stadium lights cast a striking beam onto Ponyboy and his teammates. He couldn’t be prouder of the kid—he had matured so much in the last year, even after everything that had happened with their parents and Johnny and Dally. Obviously, Darry had known that Pony was always a good kid, but it felt nice knowing there was at least one thing he had been doing right when it came to raising his younger brothers.
Rain suddenly started pouring like bullets from the dark, heavy clouds as their triumphant celebration continued on. Ponyboy didn’t seem to care much, so Darry didn’t mind either. Sodapop, far too excited, ripped off his DX shirt and cried out into the air exuberantly. He caught sight of the youngest Curtis watching his older brother, who breathed out a laugh from the ridiculous sight.
Darry quickly ran down to congratulate Ponyboy himself.
“Hey! Great job, kiddo. Mom and dad would be proud.”
Ponyboy’s eyes turned glassy, but that might’ve been the mist in the air. “Ya think so?”
“Yup, ‘specially that last part when you started runnin’ real fast. You saved your team out there.” Darry gave a light ruffle of his bleached hair. Pony had been lightening the tips annually since Johnny and Dally’s death to remember them by, and he honestly didn’t look too shabby. Blond kind of suited him.
“Ponyboy!” Soda called. The track star ran up and hugged his shirtless, sweaty brother, who buried his face in his hair. “That was so cool! I’m real proud of you, honey.”
He rolled his eyes. “Got any other adjectives than ‘cool’? Ya use it all the dang time.”
“I think that was tuff,” Darry offered. He saw his mouth melt into a smile, a real smile, like how golden sunlight floods a house in the early morning. If this happened only a year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to act so casual with his younger brothers, much less think of a description like that. His heart swelled with love, a warm and tender feeling.
“C’mon, we gotta get going. Rainin’ too much out here,” Darry finally said, wrapping his arm around Ponyboy’s shoulder. He wanted Ponyboy to wash up before they went to bed.
“Alright,” he replied, but he didn’t miss the way the boy shivered slightly under his touch.
Soda frowned. “You good? You’re awful shaky.” He reached up to feel a hand on his forehead, but the rebellious teenager swatted his hand away before he could.
“I’m fine. Just a little cold.”
Darry immediately caught on. “Anyone sick in your classes?”
“Just Cathy Carlson. She’s in my class, but she’s been coughin’ up a lung for a while now.”
“Why, Pony,” Soda drawled, eyebrows wriggling, “are ya sick ‘cause you were kissin’ her?”
His face bloomed into a bright pink. “It’s not like that! Well—I mean—she’s real pretty, but she doesn’t like me like that.”
“It’s that Bryon kid, I swear,” Darry muttered, eyes darkening. “Saw him causin’ trouble with that younger boy. Cathy was there too.”
He was surprised that Pony didn’t seem to be jealous at all. A disappointed look merely crossed his face. “Well, I guess she’s found her guy. Just bummed out he got her first. I mean, why couldn’t he have stayed with Angela? They—“
His ramble was cut off by a deafening sneeze, making both Darry and Sodapop jump in surprise.
“Sorry,” he sniffled bashfully. “Let’s go home.”
*********
“Honey, I don’t think this is just a cold. You’re shakin’ like an earthquake!”
Darry heard Soda try to reason with their kid brother from the other side of the house, where he was presumably curled up in blankets and trembling like a pitiful leaf in the wind. He sighed, got up from his armchair, and strolled over to their bedroom.
It had been a day since the competition, meaning it was Saturday. Warm wind drifted into the house—it was an excellent April morning—but Ponyboy looked like he had frozen over then defrosted six times in a row when Darry stepped into the room. The cheeks that once were smiling ear to ear bore a red, unnatural flush. He was coughing so often too, like it hurt to breathe normally.
“Hey, kiddo,” Darry spoke softly and gently, “what hurts?”
“Nothin’, Dar,” a rasp crawled out of Pony’s cracked lips. “I’m alright.”
He ignored his persistent claims and lay his rough, calloused hand on his forehead. This time, he didn’t even have the strength to argue.
“Is it bad?” Soda asked from the doorway.
Darry shook his head. “He’s not completely burning up, but he doesn’t look too hot either.”
“‘He’ can hear ya, by the way. Just sayin’.”
“Just tell us the truth, Pone. It’s okay to not feel great all the time,” he argued.
The kid instead just shook his head in protest. “I’ll feel better if ya stop worryin’ about me, how ‘bout that?”
“‘How ‘bout that’ my ass. I’ll bring you a couple pills, but you have to go back to sleep right after, you dig?”
He tried to sigh, but he started coughing wildly. “I-I dig,” he finally admitted.
“Good.” Ending the conversation there, Darry rushed to the kitchen to find the bottle of medicine while he heard Soda comforting Pony with soft whispers he couldn’t make out.
He knew the kid would be alright, though.
He had to be.
He always was.