Chapter Text
The door took a moment of force before he was able to swing it open. It was a hot summer day, causing all the hinges and moving parts to become sticky. It was only the fifth time he’d ever been over to the Curtis household. Unlike his dad, both Mrs. Curtis and Mr. Curtis were kind people, always making sure he was doing alright despite how rude he could be.
Sodapop trailed behind him, talking up a storm as Steve made his way into the house. It was just around lunchtime, so after their game of cowboys in the front yard, Soda made the suggestion to go inside and see if lunch was ready. Steve had stayed overnight after Soda had found him with a fresh bruise the day before. His plan had been to head home after he ate lunch, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the possibility of Mrs. Curtis asking him what he would have for lunch when he got home. He didn’t like to worry the lady, he knew he’d be alright, even if he didn’t eat.
“Hi Mom!” Soda cheered, making his way over to Ponyboy who was drawing a picture with crayons.
“Hi honey, could you be a dear and go get Darry? Lunch is about ready”
“Darry? Oh, he went off with Paul a little while ago, said they were going to play football. Paul said not to come get ‘em.” Steve’s blond headed friend smiled up at his mom as he made his way to the counter to retrieve some napkins, delicately trying to count them out. Steve hadn’t really met Paul yet, but he knew the other boys in their neighborhood called him a soc when he hung around the eldest Curtis brother, and that never meant anything good.
Mrs. Curtis sighed, “oh alright, wish he would’ve let me know himself, I’ll talk to him when he gets home.” She then turned back to the bread she was working with, “Soda, could you grab the new jar of peanut butter?”
“Sure!” Just as he answered her question he turned to Steve, said “race you”, and sprinted off down the hall. Both boys quickly rounded the corner hearing a faint “Don’t run” from Mrs. Curtis as they slid to a stop across the floor boards.
The cabinet creaked as Soda opened the bifold doors in front of him, scanning the shelves for what he was sent to grab.
“What’s that?” Steve asked, now trailing behind Soda.
“Peanut butter!”
“Yeah I know that, but what’s Peanut butter?”
Soda paused for a moment, thinking, before his little brother piped up to answer. “It’s a bread spread made out of peanuts, Steve, ya know, the little things that come from ground. I thought you’d know that by how “tall and older you are.” Pony looked up from his art work, referencing a conversation they’d had earlier when Pony had gone outside to join Soda and Steve. Only to get sent back inside the house
Steve just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Soda, who was handing the spread to his mom.
“Have you seriously never had peanut butter Steve? Do you live under a rock?” Pony quipped from his spot at the table.
Mrs. Curtis looked up from her food preparation, “Ponyboy.”
“Yes, ya little twerp, well- no not exactly. I’ve seen it. Just never knew what it was.” He could feel Mrs. Curtis rolling her eyes, trying to hide a grin as she listened to the kids’ pointless bickering.
“C’mon, Stevie, it’s good, ya just gotta give it a chance.” Soda smiled in an attempt to de-escalate the situation, like he always did.
“Yeah, Stevie.” Ponyboy added.
“Aw, Pones, c’mon, lay off'a him for once.”
“I don’t need protecting, Pepsi.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Soda pulled out and slid into the seat in front of him, abandoning the conversation. Just then, Mrs. Curtis stepped into the dining area and put three plates onto the table.
“Oh yeah! We finally got to harvest those strawberries I’ve been telling you about.” Steve’s buddy grinned, holding one of the fresh fruits up to his eye.
“Did they come out good?”
“Yeah they’re real nice and sweet, kinda like candy.”
“If they’re any type of sweetness you like, I don’t know if I can handle ‘em”
“You’ll be fine. Besides, my cake ain’t that sweet.”
“Yeah, you say that and then Two-bit has a sugar crash.”
“He just can’t handle it.”
“Neither can you, it makes ya all rowdy.”
“I can never sit still, Stevie, you hear Mrs. Wilkins tell me that all the time.”
“What’s this about your English teacher?” Mrs. Curtis made her was back into the kitchen with her own plate, setting it down on the wooden table.
“Nothing, Mama, she just says I don’t listen good.”
Soda’s mom looked like she wanted to say something, but then realized the company in the room. Steve thought it might be better if he just focused on what was in front of him, so he picked up the sandwich, looked at it for a second, and took a bite.
It did taste good, but it also immediately made his throat itchy and weird, like the kind of feeling you’d get on a crummy morning. Thinking nothing of it, he grabbed the glass of lemonade and tried to wash the feeling away, before another bite. The feeling didn’t go away though, and just seemed to get more annoying by the minute. He stopped himself for a moment before a rush of nausea rushed over him in a thin wave, reminding him of that unforgettable feeling.
Steve pushed his way out of the chair and excused himself to the restroom, bending down to sit on the cold tile floor. His face and ears felt warm as he brought his knees to his chest and rested his head onto his knees. The slight breeze from the open window made it a little better, but still wasn’t able to conquer the warmth of the house. All he wanted at that moment was his mom to wrap her arms around him and tell him it’d be okay, that the icky feeling would pass and he just needed to breathe.
“Steve, honey? Are you alright?” Mrs. Curtis whispered through the door. From the other side, all she could hear were muffled sniffles.
“My throat-” he choked out in between sniffles, “hurts, Mrs. Curtis.”
“Could I come in?”
“Yeah.”
She pushed the door open slowly as if she was trying not to startle a stray dog. Steve tipped his head up to look at her through his damp eyes.
“Oh, Steve, your ears are all puffy.” She knelt down beside him, rubbing her hand in a circle on his back. “What else is bothering you?”
“I miss my mom, and ‘m itchy all over.”
“Oh love, you said you’re itchy all over?”
Steve nodded.
“Could you take your shirt off for me? I want to look at your back.”
Steve nodded again and slowly lifted off his shirt from his body.
“Gee, you're breaking out in hives all over. What happened?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“And what did I tell you about calling me ma’am? It’s completely fine.” She looked him in the eyes with a warm smile on her face. “C’mon, let’s get you off this floor and get some benadryl in you.”
The two of them made their way off the floor and into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong, Stevie?” Soda made his way into the room from his place at the table, sliding across the floor boards in his socks, noticing his friend's tear stained cheeks.
“I’ve got no idea, Sodes.”
Mrs. Curtis looked from her son's hands then back to Steve, “Soda, go wash your hands, there’s peanut butter everywhere.”
“Okay, mama.” He smiled a toothy grin, then ran off down the hall.
“You might want to stay away from peanuts for a little bit, I think that's what caused it.” She tapped the benadryl bottle into her hands, handing him one of the capsules.
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”