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broareweabouttoviberightnow · 1 month ago

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Darry's in the kitchen, makin' dinner again since Soda is banned from the stove for the foreseeable future. What compelled the kid to dump half a shaker of pepper into spaghetti, Darry will never know. But he doesn't mind, really. He's got one of their ma's old cookbooks on the counter and is piece mailin' together a casserole both Steve and Two-Bit had raved over last month.

Dallas sits at the table, arms folded and scowlin' hard. Darry had to chase him into the kitchen five separate times before he managed to set the table without driftin' back to the TV to watch a western. Darry's sure they've all seen it three times.

If I go back into that kitchen and those places still aren't set you're gonna be sittin' in there until I'm well 'n done cookin'. Dallas had immediately jumped back up and vanished through the door but Darry was followin' though. Maybe he was a tough hood everywhere else, but inside the Curtis home, he was just another one of Darry's rowdy kid brothers.

To his credit, he hadn't put up too much of a fuss so when he started leanin' to see the movie through the door Darry pretended he didn't notice. He only cleared his throat warningly when he started reachin' fallin' out of his chair levels of tilitin'. Every time Dallas would straighten back up and shoot Darry his meanest glare, proppin' his elbows on the table 'n pickin' at the peelin' paint.

At some point, Pony detangled himself from Soda on the couch and disappeared down the hall, returnin' with a notebook to sit across from Dallas. He glanced up at Darry before he plopped down 'n Darry nodded his approval. Sometimes he'd make them sit alone when they were in trouble, specifically Soda and Two since they were Darry's most rambunctious. Pony would distract Soda but him 'n Dallas enjoyed just sittin' in the quiet. It reminded Darry of how Johnny 'n Pony had been. His heart gives a sharp little ache and he shakes the thought from his head.

Greif had an odd way of sneakin' up on him.

Pony picks up his pencil and Dallas nearly falls out of his chair for how hard he's leanin'. Darry doesn't bother clearin' his throat, just knocks him up the back of his head gently and Dallas scowls hard and leans back.

He's not sure how much time passes, not very long. He finishes the casserole and slides it into the oven to cook. He sighs, listens to Two and Steve as they wrestle in the living room, waitin' to see if they'll knock it off themselves before they break somethin' or not. Apparently, the sigh he lets out it enough for Soda to kick them both in the ribs and they reluctantly separate.

Since Dallas has put up the minimal amount of huffin' 'n moanin' he opts to release him until dinner. Before he can open his mouth he catches a glimpse of a sketch Pony has his nose an inch away from. He's got his brow all furrowed and he's bitin' his lip hard enough to leave marks like he always does when he's focused.

"Holy shit, kiddo." He hadn't meant to comment but even just the edge of the portrait he's workin' on is an utter work of art. Pony jerks up and slams the notebook closed. He always was oddly shy about his work. Darry doesn't push it, he doesn't want Pony to feel like he's pryin'.

Dallas, however, doesn't share Darry's values of privacy. He watches as Steve disappears into his room without askin' 'n thinks maybe none of them do. He rolls his eyes again. Dallas, suddenly payin' attention again, reaches over 'n snatches the notebook out of Pony's hands, openin' it to the page Pony had been workin' in. Whatever smart shit he'd been about to say dies in his throat.

"Holy fuck, Pony." The sketch is nearly finished, clearly set from Pony's view of the kitchen, Dallas framed neatly in the middle, scowlin'. It's so accurate it could have been a photo, one of a spread of Dallas. In all of them, his eyes are bright and angry or dull and aggitated. He's either scowlin' or frownin'. In one particular sketch he's barin' his teeth so his silver one shines lime he does when hes truly hacked off. Darry looks between Dallas 'n the drawin' Pony's just added, notin' how he had lovingly managed to capture the singular fair freckle on Dallas' throat, the way his hair curled against the back of his neck, the set of his eyes as he peered through the door.

When Darry looks back at his kid brother Pony is bright red. Darry snaps out of it first and realizes both he 'n Dallas are just starin' at him.

"Pony, that's amazin'. Really, honey." Pony looks down at the table, still clearly embarrassed.

"It's just a sketch." He scuffs his toe on the tile and runs his hand up his neck in a way Darry knows he picked up from him. "It's not done, yet." Pony wasn't particularly good with praise. He looks up at Dallas who's still just starin' at the page. Dallas runs a finger along the high bones of his face recreated in lead.

"Is... is that how you-"

"Sorry! It's really not that good. I just like to... I dunno... I like to sketch you when you're angry. You just look tuff when you're scowlin' 'n all. That's all. It's not done." He finishes lamely, the flush creepin' down his neck when Dallas doesn't say anythin' else. The silence hangs for a long moment.

"I didn't know I looked like that. When I was mad 'n all." Dallas finally says. He runs a finger over his drawn brow as if he could smooth out the furrow. He shakes his head hard. "Sorry kid, that's tuff as hell. It's a real good drawin'."

Pony ducks his head again 'n Dallas runs the back of his hand over his eyes. "Do you... mind if I keep it?" Pony's eyes go all wide like he wasn't expectin' the question.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. It's you after all." Dallas rips the drawin' carefully out of the book and folds it gently in half, gettin' up and vanishin' down the hall to the room he shares with Pony 'n Soda. He ruffles Pony's hair as he passes, gently squeezin' his shoulder.

The second Dallas is gone Pony drops his forehead to the table. "D'you think I upset him?" Darry presses a kiss to his hair and pats him on the back softly.

"Nah, kiddo. I don't think he's upset." But Darry isn't sure exactly how to read that boy. Not nearly as well as he can read the rest of them. "He just needs a minute."

Dinner is a subdued affair despite Soda and Two's best efforts. As Darry expected, both Two and Steve nearly go to blows over the final servin' 'n only back down once Darry promises to make it again next week. Dallas says next to nothin' which makes Pony squirm around every thirty seconds.

When Two's finished lickin' the bowl, Darry shoos them all out, unsurprised to find Dallas silently startin' to collect up the plates and dump them into the sink. He wasn't like his brother's in that regard. When the other's wanted Darry's attention they would simply ask for it. Dallas refused to bruise his ego. He'd find an excuse to catch Darry as he ran to the grocery store or mowed the lawn or did the dishes. Darry didn't mind waitin' for him to decide to say whatever was on his mind.

"I didn't know the kid saw me as such an... angry person." He dumped another armful of dishes and silently picked up the dish towel as Darry started washin'.

Darry hmm-ed vaguely and handed Dallas a plate. He knew the kid wouldn't listen to him if he denied it, despite knowin' better.

"Pony just likes to capture people's emotions. You remember that time he drew Soda after he'd fallen and broken his wrist? Soda had nearly lost his damn mind at how pathetic he looked in that. He might've jumped Pony if it hadn't been such a good drawin'." Darry chuckles lightly but Dallas just gives a weak smile 'n returns the plate to the cabinet.

"Maybe... yeah." Between the two of them, the sink is empty in fifteen minutes and Dallas disappears down the hall to take a shower. He had a late night chore to run at Buck's, somethin' to do with an upcomin' pony race they had comin' up.

Darry see's Dallas out, extractin' a promise to go straight there 'n back, checkin' to make sure he had his blade though he almost certainly didn't need to. He shoos Two out of his armchair and collapses down, only half payin' attention to whatever's on.

"Darry?" Pony was still bein' more uncharacteristically quiet than usual.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Can I go to bed early?" Darry turns his head to get a good look at the kid. He doesn't think Pony has ever asked to bed early a day in his life. Usually, he was the one fit to be tied every night when Darry tried to get them all to bed.

"Sure honey, all ok?" Pony nods his head and Darry crooks a finger. When he's close enough Darry presses a kiss to his forehead. Pony doesn't fight it and leans into Darry's shoulder for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm fine. G'night Darry."

"Night, kiddo."

It doesn't take long for the rest of the gang to decide they're tired. Soda crashes on the sofa against Steve's shoulder and Steve hauls him up and dumps him in bed. Two promised his ma he'd go home and Steve swears he'll be fine at his. Darry reluctantly doesn't put up a fight. He drops kisses to both their heads and reminds them the door is always unlocked.

Once the house is nearly empty he straightens up the few things out of place and drags himself to his room for the night. He's a heavy sleeper and he's exhausted enough to fall asleep right there in the hall but his body won't let him even dream of passin' out before all his brothers are home where they're supposed to be.

He counts on Dallas bein' back in an hour give or take and flips on the bedside light. He cracks the book on the nightstand Ponyboy recommended to him months ago. Pony had read it in one afternoon but Darry was draggin' through it five minutes here 'n there when he had the time.

Half an hour later he hears the door to Pony, Dallas, 'n Soda's room creak open but doesn't think much of it. He hears light steps pad down the hall 'n correctly assumes it to be Pony. Seconds later the door opens 'n closes again.

By the alarm clock beside the bed, it's another forty-five minutes before Dallas comes in. The walls are paper thin, so he can distinctly hear Dally kick his shoes off at the door and continue into the kitchen. He pauses there oddly long but Darry doesn't get up to interrupt.

It takes another ten minutes for Darry to hear the kid in the hall. He sniffs hard and Darry recognizes the sound of him rubbin' the back of his sleeve across his face. It breaks his heart but he leaves him be. Of all of them Dallas was the most fiercely protective over his ego and privacy. If it were anyone else, Darry wouldn't let that stop him from comfortin' him. But he knew the kid would get him if he needed it. He figured Dallas could see the light under the door 'n would know Darry was awake if he decided to come in.

Darry waits another fifteen minutes before he gets up to check on them. When he eases open the door Soda is sprawled out in one bed and Dallas is wrapped tightly around Pony in the other. Darry smiles fondly and goes to shut the door before he catches the paper clutched in Dallas' hand.

Darry slinks quietly across the floor to get a better look. He recognizes Pony's careful, controlled pencil markin'. The drawin' is one of his favorite Polaroids of Dallas, his smile wide and uncontrolled. Darry remembers the exact moment it was taken, his hair blown back from his forehead as Soda had taken a turn far too fast for Darry's likin'. Dallas had howled and stuck his whole head out the window and grinned.

Darry smiles fondly at the memory and catches the corner where Pony's written a note in his neat, loopy hand writin'.

I don't see you as angry. I see you as Dallas. My brother. (who just happens to look tuff when he scowls)

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