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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 2 months ago

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Android (Leona) AU - Commission Piece

Thank you so much @nemisisnemi for the commission!!! (And for also being patient with me LMAO) So, general worldbuilding first, the basic headcanons for every character, Leona-specific building and a Nemi x Leona drabble to finish it off.

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, here's my (slightly out of date) comms info. Otherwise, just like/reblog/comment. It means a lot!!

----------------- General Worldbuilding

NRC - Night Raven Conglomerate

Night Raven Conglomerate is known globally for many of their businesses, however their most notable and profitable model comes from Yokai Tech Industries. YTI is responsible for the development of state of the art androids, available for public use. While widely referred to as 'andy's' or 'mechs', YTI has a model for all your personal and business needs, for any budget. (Any budget being from rich, to filthy rich) Each droid model name is indicative of it's role and what it's been programmed to do. Regardless of model, be aware that your bot will have:

Safe search on

A personality chip *please note it will take some time for your bot to develop its personality. It must cater itself to you as an owner and have time to research and develop a personality from external sources. This may mean your bot chooses a name for itself besides its serial number if you do not choose to disable this function

A direct connection to our troubleshooting department

Recording on **all bots 'eyes' or optics are set to record the world around them in order to create a database for themselves and be able to recall old files in order to learn

A user guide and personal password/key in order to access settings in back panel (including most items above)

A recharge station

The Models M.E.C.H- (Managing Everyday Chores and Homemaking) The most common bots on the market, and also, the cheapest! These bots are perfect for individuals and families, taking care of everything from meal planning and budgeting to getting kids ready for school and cleaning! They'll manage household finances and run your errands for you.

M.E.C.H's have a humanoid design, but are manufactured in a white-coloured metal alloy. Most have a feminine appearance, but by request/with permission from their owners they may alter their appearance. Clothing is simulated by internet research and metallic projections that allow them to emulate cloth. (M.E.C.Hs from the factory are often dressed in a maid-like outfit or in a pant suit.) M.E.C.H's are able to alter their "hair" style and colour, so long as it is considered appropriate by their owners. They are also able to shift their height slightly. (this design is somewhat inspired by Dominic Cellini on twt/insta)

M.E.C.H's are very durable and also easy to fix. They are capable of repairing themselves from damage after watching a mechanic fix the specific issue once, or contacting our troubleshooting team. M.E.C.H's are waterproof on their hands, and water resistant overall. They are fire resistant, and are equipped with safety measures in case of an emergency. They also have a direct line with 911. **A business model of M.E.C.H is also available for minimum wage jobs, usually those requiring hospitality skills. They are more susceptible to the emulation of emotion however, than the O.T.T.O model, and may shut down when dealing with a customer. This can usually be avoided by turning off the personality chip temporarily.

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O.T.T.O - Occupational Transport and Telecommunications Organizers (O.T.T.O) is a great model to consider for the workplace.

O.T.T.O bots are programmed to help increase efficiency and intrapersonal bonds in the workplace, comparable to an automated secretary. O.T.T.O bots do the following up, so you don't have to. Progress reports and statistics are created and analyzed in record time. They are also trained to deal with H.R conflicts in a calculated and unbiased manner. However, O.T.T.O bots have also recently been taking their place behind the wheel for public transportation, currently the only model approved to drive. So long as they are given ample time to either charge OR refuel, (like a car), they are a much safer option on the roads than humans are. They are a great choice as a chauffeur,( and YTI has proved as such by starting a cab company under a different name/brand.)

On public transit, their appearance is much more industrial than their office-working models. Most O.T.T.O bots tend to remain in their factory settings, remaining completely chrome in colour. They often maintain a bulkier looking chest and shoulder area for the sake of keeping potentially unruly costumers in check, though their arms and legs are capable of stretching and appear similar to bendy straws.

While these bots are reliable, they also seem susceptible to wear and tear. It's often cheaper to replace a bot when it no longer serves it's function properly. (cough cough planned obsolescence cough)

It is not recommended that these bots work in hospitality. YTI is currently working on O.T.T.O bots that may be considered for work in trades, though this has mixed reviews from the public as of right now, over concerns of the bots taking over jobs that require more certification than simple safety and a driver's license.

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EM-RR - Emergency Response Robot (often referred to as an "Emery")

This bot is built specifically with human safety in mind. It's only objective is to rescue human lives. These bots are manufactured to look like humans for the most part, as studies have shown receptiveness to being rescued was improved the more humanoid they appeared. These bots are equipped with basic paramedic training, fire fighting, extensive knowledge of the law and how it applies, medical equipment like that found on an ambulance, and search and rescue supplies, including a detachable drone that is a part of them. EM-RR's are also equipped with extra rations of food, water, blankets, toys, and radios. Besides M.E.C.H's, EM-RR's are the best bot to have around kids as they are often able to handle the responsibility, breakdowns and tantrums easily. These bots are also built to withstand extreme temperatures, pressures, and fluids.

They are not yet approved to operate in a rescue mission without a supervisor as many are still learning what does and does not harm a human in terms of handling them.

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E.L.U - Entertainment and Leisure Unit

These bots are made for the big screen, often boasting the newest and best technology YTI has to offer. Their appearances are highly dynamic and can switch on a dime according to their whims.

E.L.U's can only be afforded by the highest bidders, and only 1200 models have been made worldwide for the public to buy. (About 35 models are used for YTI's ad campaigns and as actors in movies, and of those models, only 1 is used as a social media 'influencer'.).

E.L.U's are equipped with exceptional emotion-imitating technology. They are able to replicate voices without issue, learn choreography immediately, possess perfect pitch, and are capable of playing any percussion or string instrument.

E.L.U's have been through the most rigorous testing and development. While being able to sustain damage fairly easily, nanotech allows for superficial markings and damages to repair itself. Any damage that occurs on a software level is unheard of, but would be covered by insurance. At least, unheard of to the public

----- Custom Bots (The YTI is currently working to develop a 'build your own bot' program for young aspiring engineers. The program will allow promising individuals to create a new android using the technology available to them in the facility, and also lead to streamlining the process by which someone could order a custom bot. Prototypes have been promising.)

-----

Rapid Fire World Building

Riddle - human toddler Trey - EM-RR - Firefighting specialty Cater - lives at home (mansion) with his dad, who is a banker and investor of Y.T.I Deuce - Mechanic Ace - Was the Roseheart's M.E.C.H, took care of Riddle, began to disobey orders from Dr. Rosehearts, was slightly dismantled and discarded of Leona - Explained Below (E.L.U) Ruggie - O.T.T.O bot, mainly working in taxis. Very friendly, has to do constant maintenance on himself so they don't take him out of service Jack - Mechanics assistant, M.E.C.H Azul - inherited his grandma's restaurant, investor of Y.T.I, has several M.E.C.H's at his disposal Jade - is set to take over his mother's jewelry business Floyd - no formal training as a mechanic, does the upkeep for the Ashengrotto restaurant. Has mixed feelings about the M.E.C.H's, sometimes breaks them just to put them back together Jamil - a hybrid of all three bots, meant to attend to Kalim. Has additional security measures built in place to act as a guard. Kalim - human, investor and advocate for android rights, as he believes they exist beyond just their programming and should be treated equally Vil - E.L.U owned by Eric Venue. Hates it. Rook - EM-RR - search and rescue specialty Epel - Mechanic. Doesn't really like Y.T.I's inventions. Too close to humans Idia - head engineer of Y.T.I. Can you guess why :) Ortho - DECEASED E.L.U model Malleus - a discarded prototype of the E.L.U model. The workers at Y.T.I believe it's battery is dead, but it has been able to hear everything around it for ages. Kept in the discard area, not even used for parts due to issues that came up during testing. "Cursed" Lilia - one of the engineers at Y.T.I. Starting to question whether the use of A.I was a good idea, the more he works with the newer and newer models. Silver - M.E.C.H's original prototype. It's "old" now, and does not hold a charge well. It is good friends with all the engineers and other workers at Y.T.I. Constantly has a mobile charging pack. Sebek - EM-RR, forensics specialty

Leona Specific Worldbuilding

Falena Kingscholar was one of the first investors for Y.T.I. For the sake of PR and as CEO of his late father's clothing company, he deemed his contributions to Y.T.I's research as charity - such a stunning new invention, such innovation could do so much to improve the lives of those less fortunate. He sealed the deal with action when, on M.E.C.H release day, he bought 250 models to give out at random.

Some might make the mistake of thinking he's a selfless man.

As one of the largest investors in Y.T.I, he is given advanced access to latest models, often receiving a prototype after development has been approved. As such, when he heard E.L.U. models were soon going to be able to customized, he approached the owner with a deal he simply couldn't turn down.

So four weeks ahead of schedule, after hours of video footage had been submitted, interviews, photographs, memories retold, AI training, the semblance of his late younger brother stood in his living room, though slightly less...organic, so to speak.

At first it was alright. E.L.U - C 12515141 Was equipped with the knowledge that it's name was to be Leona, it's pronouns from there on were to be he/him, and Falena Kingscholar had requested him to maintain a "brotherly" relationship with him. While he wasn't entirely sure what that meant yet, he agreed. He had been given the videos in his memory banks as to who he was meant to imitate after all.

Leona tried - but to be honest, there was very little footage of the boy he was meant to resemble that offered information about his personality. He mitigated this by asking Falena to take a short questionnaire regarding which siblings in media he wanted him to imitate.

When Leona got his answers however, the patterns didn't line up. The boys he saw in the videos did not match the dynamics Falena had selected.

He saw videos over and over and over again where Falena was the subject, and the boy he was meant to imitate was nothing more than a background character. Secondary.

Now, maybe it was the push to develop him so quickly, so something was overlooked, or maybe it was just how evolution was meant to take place in a machine as novel as he, but something changed about his programming, about his personality.

If the living boy had been nothing but an understudy for the success his elder brother had come out to be....what did that make him? A replacement for someone who was never truly cared for? Built to be a coping mechanism for someone who regretted their decisions? All he was, was the embodiment of Falena's guilt, and a pillar to be Falena's redemption. He wasn't built to be loved, or enjoyed, or even for entertainment, he was built from man's selfishness.

In the following weeks, Leona tried to keep to his programming, but between processing and cross referencing and research on both the family itself and the psychology that he would be expected to have, he started to lapse more. He would write off slips of the "tongue" as "glitches" or his body language began to become more pronounced, usually in regards to annoyance. In between it all, he was trying to figure out if he was experiencing real human emotions about this all...or if it was all just part of the programming.

Eventually, Leona's internal conflict got to be too much. Violent tendencies and impulses began to arise, resulting in him damaging himself, shutting down randomly to avoid external conflict, and an otherwise unexpected disposition.

He listened into the phone number Falena made to send him in for repairs to his "personality chip." Leona took it as a threat, and immediately blocked all outgoing signals to Y.T.I temporarily to find a way to remove his personality chip on his own. Using bathroom tools, the mirror, and damaged pieces of himself, he all but performed surgery on himself to remove it - only to be horrified to realize all the "simulated" emotions he thought he had were still very much present. Unsure what to do, he stored the chip in one of his compartments, out the window and ran.

He was blacking in and out as he went, from the sheer panic he felt but tried to keep under wraps. It wasn't until he made it to a junk yard, where he could bury himself in scraps to hide that he finally let himself dive into power saving mode, sitting silently for who knows how long.

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Nemi x Leona Drabble

Battery Charged - 100% All Systems Back Online Rebooting Programming. . . Programming Error Detected - Contact Y.T.I? Yes No

"No. No don't contact Y.T.I." Nemi muttered softly, fighting the grime on their fingers to make the touchscreen respond.

It wasn't very often that Nemi or any of the junkyard crew found anything of value - at most maybe half a M.E.C.H or a catalytic converter if they were lucky - but a fully in tact, possibly operational E.L.U was unheard of. It was genuine too. How it had ended up in the junkyard was beyond him, but he wouldn't forsake the powers that be that left such a project to fall into his hands.

He rubbed his fingers on the cloth set over his shoulder, trying again to hit the button on the screen. To his relief, it finally registered.

Y.T.I Services can be contacted throu- (tap, uninterested) If your bot is not perf- (tap, that's what I'm here for...) System's Calibrating . . . System Calibration Complete E.L.U C 12515141 At Your Service, Courtesy of Y.T.I

The screen finally flickered black, before the metal beneath it flickered into the appearance the bot had had last, it's hand coming up to touch it's head as if it had a headache, it's "nose" scrunched as if it were in pain. The optics opened and shut a few times, the gentle whirr of fans blowing out dust and dirt build up that apparently, Nemi hadn't cleaned out thoroughly enough.

Whether the bot itself groaned, or it was it's internal workings coming back to life wasn't distinguishable, but Nemi stayed on his knees next to it as it seemed to slowly adjust to it's new surroundings. It squinted slightly, locking eyes with Nemi before glancing around the humble workshop.

It wasn't until it lowered it's arm it noticed that the chrome finish was no longer there - hell, the damage from his arm was gone. It was slightly bulkier than the other, but all in all, with a little buffing it would be good as new again.

It opened and closed it's hand experimentally, as if processing it was functioning like before.

"...You did this?" The bot's once blue optics much more closely resembled brilliant green eyes, scrutinizing the work of the supposed mechanic next to him.

Nemi swallowed hard, unsure what, exactly about this bot made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but cleared his throat and nodded, gently taking the bot's arm in his hands and turning it to show the carefully soldered metal, just the smallest glimpse of the wires beneath it.

"Yeah, I did. Um, you were partially crushed by a refrigerator? I think it fell on you from higher up in the stack, so I did my best to repair your arm myself. I...I may have taken apart your other arm to make sure I could make the servos match up properly, but everything's good as new. Promise. Name's Nemi, by the way."

The bot stayed quiet a moment longer, now looking down at both it's arms.

"....Why? I was supposed to be scrapped."

The bot finally moved, but only to tilt it's head back til it touched the wall, bringing a knee up to rest one of it's newly repaired arms on it, and closing its eyes. If it could sigh, Nemi was fairly certain it would have.

He adjusted himself, sitting flat on the ground instead, regarding the bot in some confusion.

"But you're an E.L.U. Nobody would just throw you away or, gods forbid, use you for parts. Any self respecting mechanic or robofanatic would repair you. You're gorgeous, top of the line, most sought after kinda model....how'd you end up out here anyways?"

The bot didn't seem to like that question, it's auxiliary power cord flicking, not unlike that of a cat as it looked away.

"Does it matter?"

Can a robot have an existential crisis? The thought passed through Nemi's mind, but he just shrugged in response.

"Not really. But it'd be kind of nice to know your name if you want to stick around here."

Nemi was met with an immediate glare of disdain.

"I'm not gonna follow your orders. Somethin' about defective programming probably came up on my reboot, right?"

Nemi shrugged again.

"Yeah, but you seem fine. Actually you seem like a lot more fun than most M.E.C.H's. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but it would be nice to have a friend here."

The bot remained silent, looking away from Nemi. The silence stretched on for a while, before it finally let out a slightly exasperated sound.

"You can stop staring. You can also...call me Leona."

Nemi couldn't help but smile a bit, extending a hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you."

--------------------------------- OTL thank you again for the comm, hope this was up to expectation and also tag list time! @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @lumdays @theleechyskrunkly

DM to be added/taken off ^^

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ponstermenis-writing · 30 days ago

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Barely Above Minimum Wage

tags// Disabled Johnny Cade, Christmas Fluff, The Gang is a bunch of troublemakers, Johnny Cade is a sassy man with crutches TLDR; Johnny Cade, a severely underpaid high-school substitute, is forced to deal with some of the most troublesome students (the gang) for a whole day. Godbless.

“Are you free on Wednesday the 16th?” —is the email he receives incredibly late on Tuesday, the 15th.

Of course he’s free. He’s fresh out of college and not doing much else but cook and clean in his new apartment just to keep from becoming sedentary. It’s a new town, new state, new country. He barely knows anyone out of work—and even then it’s not much. He’s a substitute so he’s not there as much as other teachers—though with the amount of folks quitting and going on strike he might get a permanent spot.

”Yes, I’ll be free tomorrow.” He replies, trying to type professionally even as he eyes try to pull themselves shut. He gets sent a paragraph in the next seconds—so she knew I was free, that bitch—that he quickly decides could’ve simply been ‘come in at 7:30 tomorrow morning’. He’s barely able to set his alarm before he passes out.

Waking up was like being punched in the face. He slammed his fist down on the old alarm clock six times before it shut up—subconsciously he’s already thrown it out the window, but a new one is expensive.

He takes an ice cold shower and fixes his sleep-riddled appearance. He pulls on a red sweater and blue jeans—adding a scarf, gloves, and a huge varsity jacket for the inevitable walk there. He manages to get out of the house right on time, giving Scott (his ginormous sheepdog) a big fat kiss on the forehead before heading there.

The walk is slow and cold—snow had been leisurely falling all week. It was safe to drive in—especially with the big snow plows—but his dark blue beetle from the 1960s that is moments away from exploding in the parking garage probably couldn’t handle it. He knows he shouldn’t be walking in the snow—the doctors warned him not to put too much strain on himself, but he does anyway—his crutches get buried and he’s sure it would actually be easier to walk without them.

He got in a pretty bad car crash right after college. His father had actually come to his graduation—just to spend drive back angrily complaining about how ungrateful he was for not mentioning them in his speech. He was clearly drunk and after a few snide comments from Johnny, he drove both of them off of a bridge and into an empty road below. It had killed him instantly, Johnny had to sit in the smashed car for an hour before they got him out.

He eventually got control of his legs back. He could drive and walk now—but he couldn’t do either for long without help. He was given crutches—loftstrand was the scientific name, but he liked elbow crutches more.

“You’re late.” The desk lady says as he walks into the office at 7:43. Her names Scarlet—Johnny likes her well enough, even though she has a tendency to be blunt. Johnny gives her an awkward smile, walking up to here desk. “Bad traffic.” he excuses, rolling his shoulders.

“You walked here, Johnny, I can see the parking lot from my desk.” She smiles just a little to let him know she’s teasing him. “I’m gonna go out on a whim and say you didn’t read the email?”

Johnny frowns. “I skimmed it.”

She gives him an exasperated look, handing him a sheet of paper. “We need someone to watch six kids before break starts—I assumed you’d be able to handle it.”

“It’s six kids, why wouldn’t I be able to?” He feels himself getting a little defensive. She’s usually one of the few folks who don’t look down on him—”They aren’t regular kids.” She stands, gesturing for him to follow her. “I’m sure you’ve heard some stories about our most troublesome.” She gestulates, waving her hands about as she talks. “You’ve got the lucky assignment to watch them all.”

“Why me?” He shivers. He knows he’s not very intimidating—he’s treated like a student more often that he is a teacher. And from word of mouth the only way to deal with those boys is to have them fear you. “Is Tim busy?” Tim Shepard, the only other substitute for this whole school. He’s ten times as scary as Johnny is—Tim’s usually the one to deal with detention, he’s the one Johnny got the horror stories from.

“Yup.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s covering Mr.Sniders English class.”

“Wonderful.” Johnny groans, pulling off his jacket. “So, what? I just watch them for an hour until they get sent back to their classes?”

She laughs, placing her hand on his shoulder. “That would be too easy! You’ve got the whole day with them.” She pauses at the detention room door. “Good luck!” She gives him a teasing smile before walking off. She must know that he can handle it—she’d disperse them into empty classes if not. But sometimes Johnny likes to be undermined—because how in the world is he going to survive this?

He lets out a loud sigh before entering the room, pleased to find it empty—of course those kids wouldn’t be early, what was he thinking?

Johnny drops his stuff on the large desk in the front of the room, unhooking his arms from his crutches and doing his best to move the seats. He arranges them into a row that’s two seats wide—they have the big science desks in here, which is stupid consider the actual science room doesn’t have any.

Sometime through his rearrangement—The vice principal rolls around. It takes Johnny a moment until he realizes he’s there.

This guy, is a HUGE dick.

Because of the amount of ‘hoodlums”’—his words, not Johnny’s—the man’s only job is pretty much to take care of anything that goes wrong. And he loves it—he’ll take any chance to talk down on a teacher or student if they dare break any rule he decides it semi-important. He especially doesn’t like Johnny—purely because they went to rivaling colleges, and the only thing keeping this guy alive is reliving the glory days.

“Mr.Cade.” He says as walks in—even though he, for a fact, knows Johnny’s first name—startling the other. Johnny sighs, straightening himself before the other can gibe about his posture. “Mr.Sheldon.” He says, plastering on a fake smile.

”I’m sure the receptionist has already made what you’re doing pretty clear,” he begins. Johnny wants to scold him for calling her ‘the receptionist’ but knows it won’t go far. “She gave you the attendance sheet, correct?”

Johnny glances to the paper he left on the desk, nodding.

“Use your words next time, it commands more respect.” The man scolds. He hands Johnny a few papers—giving him an annoyed look when he takes to long to unhook the crutches from his arm.

“This paper on top is going to be most important,” he begins, pointing to a sheet with some kind of table on it. “As you can see, each of the student’s names have boxes off to the side. If they do anything against the rules, I want you to write it down here so they can be dealt with accordingly.” He sucks in a breath, “We aren’t afraid to give them detention over break.”

“Ah, the naughty list.” Johnny says with a joking smile, scanning it over—he couldn’t help but notice that some student’s space for writing was bigger than others. His smile turns into an awkward laugh when he notices the stern look on the man’s face. “This is no laughing matter, Mr.Cade. These kids can do some very serious damage.”

”Right, of course.“ Johnny nods, flipping through the stack.

“The rest of it is just work that their teachers left.” He pauses. “They don’t have to do it, but if they start getting rowdy I suggest assigning it.” He all but snatches the stack from Johnny’s hands and straightens it out. “I expect I won’t have to see you again today, right?”

”Y-Yes sir.” Johnny says before he can stop himself. The other smirks—he loves intimidating people, Johnny hates that he gave him the satisfaction. “Wonderful.” He says, making his way to the door after setting the tidy pile on Johnnys desk. “Oh, and make sure you turn in that attendance sheet the second they all show up. It’s important we keep a close eye on them.”

”Of course, thank you.” Johnny says, deflating once the door closes.

The bell rings a moment later and he knows they’re gonna start coming in soon. He rushes to his desk—hiding the crutches under his desk and trying to make himself look presentable, draping the jacket over the back of his chair and pulling forth the papers he was given. He doesn’t want to give those kids a single thing to make fun of him for. Hidden between the papers were what looked like character cards. With little photos of each student in the corner of the page. With their names and student numbers to the left. It looked like each of the teachers had written him actual descriptions of these kids. Which, is so wild that it’s actually funny.

It’s definitely against some kind of rule…

He skims through a couple anyway.

Keith Mathews,

A jokester. He’ll try to prank just about everyone in the room, watch your back. Even if you don’t get the joke, laugh along. Don’t engage with any of his other shenanigans unless you’re ready for a write up.

He’d seen the boy in passing once or twice. He was never not laughing or messing with someone. Johnny didn’t realize he was that bad. But after seeing his record underneath the description he decides to never think that highly of him again.

Darrel Curtis,

Pretty good kid. Doesn’t like being talked down to, best not to boss him around much. He’s got a tendency to blow up—don’t mess with him or his brothers too much or you’ll deal with the bruising. Careful, he manhandles.

Johnny has to stop himself from laughing at the description. He’s seen him around a lot. He’s a senior—big on the football team. Johnny thought he was an adult several times. He didn’t realize Darrel was such a troublemaker—he was the most sophisticated on his team, especially compared to that Paul friend of his.

The door opens before he can read another. He quickly tucks the paper away, no doubt looking very suspicious. He’s not sure how kids would feel about their teachers writing warning descriptions of them, but he doubts it’d feel good.

A younger looking boy walks in—he’s gotta be a freshman or a sophomore. He’s got auburn hair and big green eyes. He gives Johnny a weird look as he walks past, not saying anything before taking his seat in the back of the room. Johnny can feel the boy staring—no doubt wondering who the rando sitting at the teachers desk was.

“What’s your name?” Johnny asks after a minute, trying to sound friendly and not nervous. The boy looks him up and down, furrowing his brows. “Who are you?” He asks almost accusingly, eyes stuck on him.

“I—uh, I’m the substitute. Mr.Cade.” He quickly recovers, holding up the badge around his neck with his name on it. The boy gives him an unamused ‘sure you are’ look. “My name is Ponyboy Curtis.” He says before ducking his hand back down to read his book.

Yeah, great talking to you kid.

Johnny sighs, grabbing the attendance sheet and putting a check next to his name. He makes sure the other isn’t watching before he takes a look at his page.

Ponyboy Curtis,

Good student, hardworking. Not much of a troublemaker. But he has the tendency to talk back. He’ll follow anything his friends and brothers do, best to keep them apart.

Johnny quickly notices that three students have the same last name. He sighs, tucking the sheet away. Clearly, Ponyboy was just a smart aleck who couldn’t keep his mouth shut—not to mention that the ‘does whatever his friends and brothers do’ seems to be made very true. All of the infractions on his record line up perfectly with the others.

He can’t help his own nervousness as it takes longer and longer for the kids to show up. He heard what they did to the last guy who took Tim’s place. Dumped water on him as he walked in, threw shit and destroyed his things, relentlessly bullied him for having the surname Hancock, and then chased him out to his car with rocks—after, of course, they spray painted it with obscenities that made the devil twitch.

Not to mention he really hated being in a room alone with this kid. He wasn’t really paying attention to Johnny, but he still felt like a bug under a microscope.

Two students walk in a moment later. They both give him the same reaction Ponyboy did, heading to a set of two seats in the front corner. “Who are you?” The blonde calls loudly, a dopey smile on his face. “Geez Soda, keep it down.” The black haired boy next to him laughed, though matching his loud tone.

“I’m the substitute.” Johnny says slowly, figuring out who they were by the photos and putting checkmarks by their names. They both share a look, shaking their heads. “No you ain’t.” The black haired man—Steve, shakes his head. “What are you? Like, 15?”

Johnny decides to not engage—he’s unable to keep his eye from twitching, and he’s sure the two notice.

The other two walk in with quick succession. They look at him like he’s an alien, refusing to acknowledge him verbally. Johnny sighs when the bell finally rings, ducking his head down. Darrel sits down next to his youngest brother, seemingly not planning to cause trouble either. Two-Bit idles around his desk for a bit—no doubt waiting for him to talk first. Johnny’d knows not to—He sits down beside an empty seat eventually.

The late bell rings and he decides not to worry about the absentee. He’s going through some of the work papers while they silently watch him—he pretends not to notice. All of them have been given a truckload—even if it’s for the troublemakers, he feels bad giving them this much.

He’s sectioning it all off when the door is thrown open. A blonde with shaggy hair and light eyes saunters in, slamming the door shut being him. Johnny glances up, furrowing his brows. The boy—Dallas—is already staring at him. He looks Johnny up and down before stepping closer. “The fuck are you?” He commands, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Your substitute.” Johnny mutters. “Please sit down an—“

Dallas snatches the attendance paper from his hands. Johnny gasps, furrowing his brows. Dallas spends a moment looking over it with a grimace. Johnny tries to stand and take it—his legs buckle awkwardly, the walk in the cold was no doubt gonna ruin his day. He has to use his arms to hold himself upright.

The boys all laugh as Dallas holds it over his head. Johnny fails to grab it several times—he realistically couldn’t get it even if he could stand. Dallas smirks, taking note that Johnny’s teetering one on arm before just barely shoving him back so he falls into his seat. He can’t help his pained wince, squeezing his eyes shut. Dallas gives him a single confused glance before walking back to his seat, paper in hand.

Johnny doesn’t think it’s worth it. But Mr.Sheldon seemed pretty adamant that he turned it in on time and he’d rather not get torn a new one. With a sigh, he leans down and grabs his crutches from under his desk. He leans on one and pulls himself up, getting his arms inside slower than he’d like.

He knows for a fact that he’d get his ear talked off about needing crutches—students have made fun of him before, even taken them a few times. But when he lifts his head—those boys look mortified. Dallas especially looked like he’d just seen a tragedy. Darrel smacks him on the back of the head, snatching the paper from his hands and walking it to Johnny before he could move.

Johnny thanks him quietly, setting it down. He glances around the room, furrowing his brows. He gestures for Keith to stand. Which he does immediately, that petrified look still on his face because he no doubt had been planning something to do to him earlier.

“Can you walk this to the office for me, please?” Johnny asks, handing him the attendance form. Two-Bit’s face twists and he is very obviously holding back a joke about how Johnny couldn’t walk there himself. Instead he just nods. “Don’t take too long, the vice seemed adamant we get it to him.”

Two-Bit just nods before bolting out the door. He knows it’s not smart to send a troublemaker into the hall without supervision. But it’s smarter than leaving six alone in the room, right?

Johnny spares an exasperated glance his way before stepping back behind his desk. He very quickly decides he’s not giving them all that schoolwork. He rummages around in the desk before pulling out a stack of Christmas themed coloring sheets—definitely meant for kindergarten students. He decides it’s better than nothing, pulling himself back up to his feet. He practically hobbles around the room, handing a few of them out. Darrel furrows his brows when he's given one. "How old do you think we are?" He asks, irritation clear in his voice. Johnny sighs. "It's either this or the buttload of homework your teachers gave out. Which do you prefer?" He raises a brow, getting silence in response. Ponyboy is the only other one to talk to him, taking his paper with a guilty look—no doubt for his friend's behavior. "Sending Two wasn't a good idea." He says just as Johnny begins to turn away. "Huh?" He asks, turning around to face him again. "Keith." He says, like he's an idiot for not knowing what the hell he meant by 'Two'. "Sending him in the hallway by himself wasn't a good idea. You should probably go get him before another teacher does." Johnny frowns. 'Do I look like I can go get him?' is what he wants to say, but instead he just shrugs. Ponyboy doesn't say anything more. "Hey Johnny," Steve calls, yelling back to him and snapping his fingers like he were a dog he needed the attention of. It didn't help how he perked up at the mention of his name. It takes him a moment to realize that Steve should, most definitely, not know his first name. Johnny looks back at him, noticing a wallet—his wallet, with all of his money and his ID—in his hand and it looks like he's reading off of it. He quickly steps forward and snatches it, tucking it into his back pocket. "How did you—" He begins before shutting his mouth with an audible click. He can't even turn around for one second, can he? "We need something to color with, man." Steve says with a smirk, eyeing him like stealing his wallet was some sort of achievement. With any other person it would be, but Johnny barely any feeling in his legs right now and stealing something from that general area wasn't a hard thing to do. Johnny hands them a few boxes of colored pencils and lets them hand it out to themselves, already wishing to be home. The room quickly becomes too silent for his liking—because they were actually coloring. Sodapop literally turned around to show his younger brother his work, to which he received a thumbs up and a comment from Darrel about coloring in the lines. Darrel and Dallas were the only two not coloring. Darrel laid back against the wall with his eyes closed, Dallas just stared at him like he was thinking. Johnny couldn't tell if he felt guilty at all, but quickly decided he didn't care. After a while he decides the silence is too much to bare. Johnny pulls himself back onto his feet and rummages around the large closet behind his desk. He finds a few Christmas movies and a TV on a cart. He rolls it to the front of the room and rummages through the old VHS's. He doesn't notice Dallas reaching over him until he has one of them shoved in his face. The Grinch, the original animated version. He spares a glance his way, Dallas looks at him expectantly. He can't help his small laugh, tucking the others in the cart before putting in the tape.

Dallas had the biggest reputation of them all. Johnny wasn't here often—but when he was he always heard his name. Sometimes it was stories of getting arrested—again—or how one of his coworkers had to deal with him doing something-something that day. Grown adults were scared of this seventeen year old.

He personally doesn't get it. Johnny sits back down at his desk with a sigh, happy to not be on his feet any more. Most of them are still coloring away, sparing occasional glances up at the TV. Dallas is very obviously pretending not to watch the movie, Darrel has one eye peaked open to look too. He wonders why all of the other teachers seemed so horrified at the very mention of these kids. Sure, they are a little obnoxious—but anyone with patience could deal with them for the day. Then, a loud, angry knock is heard on the door.

He should’ve knocked on wood.

Everyone’s heads shoot up. Ponyboy gives him a knowing look, Johnny not-so-gracefully rushing to get the door.

Mr.Sheldon has Two-Bit by the back of his jacket collar—like someone holding a kitten by the scruff of its neck, but the kitten is an evil ginger who apparently can’t be trusted alone for two seconds. “Mr.Cade. A word?” The vice principal askes through gritted teeth, all but shoving the other in the classroom while he chuckles. Johnny spares a glance back before following the man outside, shutting the door behind him.

“What did he do?” Johnny asks, feeling nervousness rise in his chest. Mr.Sheldon is bigger than him, and meaner. He also has no problem getting in his face and yelling, no matter how much people tell him not to. “He’s been going around playing ding-dong-ditch! Do you know how many calls I received in the last ten minutes?!”

“I…how is he even doing that? We don’t have doorbells.”

”Well, we’ve got a comedian on our hands! He’s been making doorbell sounds with his mouth loud enough to disrupt whole hallways! What the hell were you thinking!?” His voice gets louder and louder and Johnny backs himself against the door. He’s very much regretting foregoing his crutches.

“Well, I thought it’d be better than leaving them all alone in there. They cause more trouble together than—“

”Use your brain! Call someone down to pick it up, you imbecile!” Mr.Sheldon is positively fuming, his cheeks are red and he’s slowly getting closer and closer to hysterics. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“Think? Yeah, I can tell.” He lets out an angry sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “You’d think after being in America for five years, you’d understand how things work around here.” He grumbles. Johnnys too petrified to comment. “From now on—if anyone has to leave the classroom, I want you to call up to the office and get a chaperone.”

”Yes sir.” Johnny nods, grasping onto the door handle to keep himself upright.

“You haven’t been working here long. If you keep messing up like this it’s only a matter of time before you get fired.” Johnny knows it’s a thinly veiled threat. The man had threatened his job several times before—its not like he really has the power to get him fired, but just the mention sends a shiver down his spine. “Of course.” He nods, sparing a glance back at the incredibly silent classroom. All of them are staring through the small window on the door. The boys in the back of the room quite literally got up to watch.

“I hope we won’t have to have this conversation again.” Is all the man says before walking of, the soles of his too-shiny shoes slapping against the linoleum loud enough to make the other flinch.

Johnny sucks in one final gasp of air, turning and letting himself back inside. He manages to make it to his desk without fumbling too hard, ducking his head down to not see the stares of the others.

“Good going Two,” Dallas says sarcastically, loud enough for the whole class to hear. “You got the cripple in trouble.”

Johnny’s head shoots up. He’s used to being called that, it’s not a shock to him anymore. But he still wants to smack that boy so hard his nappy hair comes off. Sadly, there isn’t much he can do without actually getting fired. It’s clear that the initial shock of him being on crutches has worn off. Now he’ll have to deal with his least favorite part about having them.

Two-Bit chuckled at Dallas’s comment, but his face faltered at the look on Johnny’s face. He doubts any of these kids are capable of feeling remorse for more than three seconds, but Two is kind enough to not say anything further. It could partly be Darrel glaring down his back too.

They are quiet for a while. Johnny replaces the movie when it ends, nobody acknowledges him. There’s the occasional snickers and menial trouble-making.

Dallas balls up his paper and lobs it at Johnny’s head. Johnny simply ducks out of the way and lets it hit the back wall. Dallas looks annoyed—Johnny quickly realized it was more because he didn’t yell at him instead of his horrible shot.

Not long after, Two-Bit stands and gets behind Johnny’s desk. Johnny keeps his eyes down and lets him pick up the chalk. He scratches away for only a minute before snickering and walking back to his seat.

Johnny spares a glance at the board when Two has his backed turned—it read “#1 Crip” with a crudely drawn hand holding up a gang sign and an arrow pointing to his head. He simply rolled his eyes and went back to his work, much to the red-heads chagrin.

They get a little rowdy when Two-Bit starts getting bored again. “Hey, Johnny—“ he calls loudly. Johnny glances up at him—he honestly doesn’t care about them knowing his first name, but he’d hate to have them find him outside of school. “How old are you, man?” He asks, leaning his head in his hands.

Johnny sighs. “I’m 22. Why do you ask?”

Everyone’s heads eventually shoot up one by one. Two-Bit opens his mouth to speak, Steve interrupts. “No you ain’t.” He says in disbelief, looking him up and down. “Man, you’ve gotta be younger than us.”

Johnny can feel his own teeth grind together. There is nothing he hates more than the ‘young’ comments. He understands he doesn’t quite look his age. He’ll never understand why it’s such a big deal.

“How would that work? I’ve already been through college.”

“So, you ain’t one of them ‘student—teachers’?” Sodapop asks, squinting his eyes. Johnny simply shakes his head, already having enough of this conversation. “So—you’re old enough to drink and shit?” Two-Bit snickers. Johnny has a sinking feeling the man knows what being drunk feels very well.

“Legally, yes.“

”Do you?” Dallas askes, leaning back in his seat and raising his brows. “I’m not answering that.” Johnny deadpans. “Cus’ it’s true?” Dallas asks, leaning forward on the desk with a smirk—He’s much like Two-Bit in the fact that he can’t sit still, the chair creaks as he moves. Johnny has to hold back an annoyed groan. The only thing that saves him from this harrowing conversation is Darrel standing up.

He watches in confusion for a second before realizing he’s going to leave. “Wait—“ Johnny calls as he gets his hand on the door. Darrel spares a single glance back at him before continuing on, exiting the room just as he gets his crutches under his arms.

He’s able to catch up before he gets to the staircase, standing in front of it. Darrel rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and glaring down at him—which is really easy considering he’s a whopping 6’3 and Johnny’s on the cusp of 5’7—and that’s without his permanent slouch.

”Move.”

“I’m sorry, you have to wait for—“ Johnnys begins, catching his breath. Darrel puts his hand up to silence him. “Get out of the way. I’m not Two-Bit, I won’t do anything stupid.” He groans, uncrossing his arms and somehow looking more intimidating. Johnny can’t help his own stutter, praying the younger won’t simply crush him for being in his way.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t trust you—but if you get caught—“

”Then I won’t.” He says with a sense of finality. Before Johnny can respond—Darry grabs him by the elbows, lifts him off the ground with a horrifying ease, and sets Johnny back down safely behind him.

“You can’t just—“ Johnny begins, his mouth closing with an audible snap when the other turns to glare at him.

“I’m serious. I don’t need a damn chaperone to go to the bathroom.” Darrel seems to notice just how wide Johnny’s eyes are—he lets his shoulder relax and gives him a guilty look. “You might want to head back before they do anything they’ll regret. I heard some talk of trying to lock you out of the room.”

Johnny opens and closes his mouth several times—finally he decides to accept defeat, struggling back to the classroom before they could do just that. By the time he got there, the boys were all sitting down and the door opened with no struggle. He wonders if Darrel lied to him to get him to leave him alone—either way, none of his business.

Darrel did come back a few moments later—no vice principal in sight, thank god. The boy’s all seem rather surprised that Johnny let’s Darrel walk by without any repercussions. They go back to the quiet—shockingly well behaved, for now—students they were before.

It’s not silent for much longer of course, as the lunch bell rings.

Johnny becomes suddenly aware that he didn’t actually inquire about what to do for lunch. Everyone’s heads shoot up, looking at him expectantly.

”Uh—How many of you need to get school lunch?” He asks, though he’s sure none of these boys could even make a sandwich. “We all do.” Darry is the first to answer, standing.

“Damn are we gonna have to get chaperoned to the cafeteria again?” Two-Bit asks, frowning. “Can you even—like, walk that far?” He turns to Johnny, raising a brow. He actually has to stop himself from taking the stapler and hurling it at his head. “Yes, I can walk that far.” Johnny grumbles between gritted teeth. “Now, sit back down. I have to figure this out.”

The boys all groan but take their seats. Johnny grabs the phone on his desk and rings the office, thankful that Scarlet was the one to answer. “Hey Johnny.” She says, he can hear the smile in her voice. “How’s hell going?”

“Just wonderful.” Johnny mutters, playing with the phone cord. “Look—I wanted to know what they do for lunch. They all have school lunch and someone told me they always need a chaperone.” He and Scarlet have many crude names for the vice principal—but he is the type of person to go over call logs, so they’d best not use them.

”Oh, right.” She says. He can hear her rifle through some papers. “Tim usually just walks them there and back—but with you condition I wouldn’t suggest it.”

“What are you, my doctor?”

“No. But I saw you hobble up the stairs this morning.” She laughs loudly at her own joke. “I’m not saying you can’t walk them there—if you want you can send me their lunch orders and I’ll grab them for you.”

Johnnys knows for a fact that everything about these boys scream ‘free or reduced lunch’—he should know, he was on the list too—so they won’t really have to worry about paying for he food. But at the same time, some petty part of him wants to walk there just to prove a point.

So, he does.

“I’ll walk you guys there.” He says simply, standing up and pulling the crutches under his arm. A few of them share looks and Johnny knows they want to comment—but they keep their mouth shut. He lets them all out of the room and shuts the door behind him. Tim usually makes them walk in a single-file line—Just to be an asshole—but Johnny doesn’t want to do that.

The boys look a little surprised when he lets them walk in more of a misshapen circle instead of a line. He also notices that they same to form a bubble around him—whether it’s consciously or not, he’s a little confused by it. They probably just don’t want to be seen being walked in the hall by a teacher—but the way some of them are standing, like they’re trying to be intimidating, makes him wonder if this is their pathetic attempt to protect him.

A kid going the other way pauses at the sight, staying close to the wall to get out of their way.

The lunch room is filled with students—way too many for his liking. Johnny gestures for them all to join the lunch line, standing close to the wall to watch them. A few of the students who’ve had him before recognize him, turning around to talk to him.

”Hey, man, look who’s here.” A Soc boy—Jeremy, he thinks his name is—snickers, prodding Johnnys side. The kids in this school have a tendency to treat him less like a teacher and more like a student—he hates it so much it makes his blood boil. “Hello Jeremy.” Johny says with a sigh, giving him a quick smile before going back to watching the troublemakers.

Jeremy seems annoyed by Johnny ignoring him. “Hey, so are you ever gonna get out of these?” He asks, lightly tugging on Johnny’s crutches and almost making him fall. Johnny takes a tentative step back, forcing his body as close to the wall as it would go. “Stuck with them for life, I’m afraid.” Johnny tries to say in a joking tone.

Jeremy starts grabbing at them harder—his friends all snicker as Johnny tries and fails to get him to stop. “Y’know, the only way you’ll ever walk right is if you just drop ‘em. Maybe then everyone won’t think you’re one of them special handicapped folk.”

Johnny just grimaces. Jeremy had manages to tug him away from the wall and closer to their lunch table. He’s about to actually yell at him when Jeremy stops all at once. His eyes are wide and his mouth snaps shut alongside his friends—they all quickly turn back around. Johnny gives them a confused look before following Jeremy’s eyes.

Darrel stands behind him—lunch in hand—he’s got this menacing look in his eyes that only goes away once they boys completely stop bothering him. He doesn’t dare meet Johnnys eyes and he decides that’s good enough for him.

Two-Bit and Dallas cause a bit of trouble in the lunch line trying to steal one of the soda’s they keep for the kids who pay extra. It ends up making the whole line pause while the lunch ladies tear into them—leaving Johnny and Darrel standing awkwardly beside each other.

“Do they always do that?”

Johnny startles at the suddenness, glancing up at Darrel. He’s got a look in his eyes that Johnny can’t quite understand—some5hing akin to pity. “Huh?” He asks dumbly, furrowing his brows.

“Do students always mess with you? Even the normal ones?”

The question makes Johnny pause. The kids all treated him differently then the rest of the teachers—he’s so used to it that he often forgot just how differently they talk to him.

“Yeah.” Johnny shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me none.”

Darrel grimaces. “I hope you know we ain’t like that. They just like messing around—they don’t mean anything by it.” Darrel says after a few moments of silence. Johnny quickly realizes that he’s talking about the other troublemakers. “They aren’t all bad. Just—Rowdy, I guess.” He pauses, meeting Johnnys eyes finally. “You’re a lot less scary that Tim is. ‘Makes them think of you more like a friend then a teacher.”

Johnnys know not many people think of him as an adult, but—Ouch, man, way to rub it in.

“I know.“ Johnnys shrugs. “I wasn’t the most well behaved kid either, I get it.”

Darrel gives him an odd look but doesn’t say much else. The rest of the boys join them and they walk back to class. They get a little louder as they go down the stairs—trying to shove each-other down for shits and giggles. Steve knocks into Ponyboy on accident and makes him drop 99% of his lunch on the floor.

“You dick!“ The youngest shouts, shoving him back.

“Sorry, man, you were in the way.“ Steve says simply, snickering a little alongside Two-Bit. Ponyboy groans loudly, scooping all of his now inedible—the grounds here haven’t been washed in years—food onto the ground and tossing it in a trash can at the end of the stairwell.

“I’ll give you some of mine.” Soda whispers, nudging him lightly.

They get to the classroom and Soda hands Ponyboy a decent handful of fries before letting him walk back to his seat. Johnnys not sure why but he feels guilty—he doubts these boys are in a much better situation then he was growing up. Reluctantly, he pulls out his lunch and moves the water bottle and carrots off to the side.

He stood and handed the container with his actual meal to Ponyboy. Pony gives him an odd look, opens it, grimaces, and looks back up at him with a ‘what is this?’ look.

“It’s cacciucco. Try it, you’ll like it.” Johnny says, handing him a fork and walking off. Darrel gives him a look that’s almost thankful before looking down at the food, matching Pony’s expression. Ponyboy looks up and Johnny—who’s watching him expectantly—before taking some of it on the food and putting it in his mouth.

Johnnys fully aware that most of the people here think Italian food is just spaghetti and pizza—which, yeah he had a lot of both of those growing up… but there’s better stuff too.

Pony’s eyes go wide and he goes to take another bite, A few of the boys turn in watch in awe as he eats something that no doubt looks unappetizing. Two-Bit leans back and takes some before Ponyboy can stop him—squeezing his eyes shut like he’s preparing for something horrible, before nodding and whispering to the rest of them that it’s ‘actually really good’.

Johnny’s happy to see them all try some and like it—Steve comments that Ponyboy should thank him, seeing as he wouldn’t have gotten it without him.

By the time they’re done eating, Tim Shepard rolls around. He knocks on the door before walking in, effectively scaring all of them into thinking the vice principal is back.

The boy’s all share exasperated looks when Tim peeks his head inside the room. Tim rolls his eyes, sauntering to Johnnys desk and looking out at them all before glancing back down at Johnny. “How’s the doghouse?” He askes, raising an amused brow.

“I dunno, haven’t been to your place in a while.” Johnny replies before he can stop himself. A few of the boys snicker—which reminds him that they are there—oops. Tim ignores his comment by sticking his tongue out at him before looking back up at the students.

“You haven’t been too annoying, have you?” He announces to the room, squinting his eyes at Dallas and Two-Bit in particular.

“They’ve been fine, Tim.“ Johnny says before Dallas can show the man a very specific hand gesture. “Whatever you say.” Tim says like he doesn’t believe him, shoving his hands in his pockets. It’s silent for a moment—Tim clearly wants to say something. Johnnys not sure if he wants to hear it.

“Are you here for a reason or are you just bored?” He asks finally. Tim leans back on his desk, giving him a fake look of sadness. “Wow, can’t even make sure you’re okay without you yelling at me.” He complains, kicking Johnnys leg lightly just because he knows Johnny can’t do it back. “I actually am here for a reason, though.”

Johnny raises a brow.

“They we’re handing out shit for the teachers—y’know how they are around the holidays. Snagged us both some.” He says, pulling a bag of candy out of his back pocket.

“Thanks,” Johnny smiles, tucking it into the desk. “I don’t think you have to ‘snag’ it, though, seeing as we are both teachers too.” Tim shrugs. “Old habits die hard.” He says simply. It takes a second for them both to notice everyone is staring at them. “What?” Tim asks loudly, tone changing to a more annoyed one that Johnny’s used to hearing.

“Didn’t know you were capable of having a civil conversation.” Darry is the first to respond, raising his brows. Tim rolls his eyes, flipping him off before turning back to Johnny—who looks rather shocked. “You can’t just give the middle-finger to a student, Tim.” He says, exasperated, slapping the other on the arm.

“Man, I’m telling you—the school board does not care with these guys.” Tim whispers, sparing a glance back. “I could go over there right now, and punch Dallas in the face. I promise you I wouldn’t even be suspended.”

“Don’t talk about punching kids, Jesus.” Johnny whispers back, giving him an unapproving look. Tim just shrugs, pushing himself to his feet. “You boys, behave.” He says, pointing at each student individually before walking off. Dallas manages to actually flip him off this time, getting a stern glare from Johnny. "Hey—you mind feeding the needy, huh?" Steve asks the second time is gone, eyeing the chocolates. Johnny glances at him, glances at the chocolate, and looks back at him again. He takes one out of the bag and hands the rest to him. "Share with the other's, okay?" He says. Steve gives him a look like he's crazy—mainly because he didn't think Johnny'd actually give him any, especially the whole bag. "All of them?" He asks, raising a brow. Johnny just shrugs and goes back to his computer.

The room gets bored quickly after that. They’ve gone through every movie worth watching, the coloring sheets are done, and Johnny doesn’t know what to do to entertain them. He could just give them the work—but as someone who had to do worksheets over Christmas break, he’s not really feeling like doing that.

Eventually they all start talking, it’s quiet enough that he can’t really hear what they’re saying, but he hears a snicker or two and immediately knows he should be worried. Two-Bit and Dallas stand up at once. “We have to go to the bathroom.” Two-Bit announces, barely holding back a giggle when Dallas smacks him.

“Together?” Johnny asks, raising a brow.

Neither one of them respond, looking at him expectantly. Johnny sighs and goes to call the office—the second the phone’s in his hand they both bolt, getting out of the door before Johnny even realizes they moved. He sits there and just gapes at the wide open door for a second.

He spares one glance at the four still sitting there, before deciding that he’s just going to have to accept defeat and run after them. He stands and pulls the crutches up and under his arms. “Don’t. Move.” He commands, biting off the end of each word. They all nod but immediately stand to watch him leave by sticking their heads out of the door.

“Is he gone?“ Ponyboy whispers, Johnny disappearing down the other end of the hall. “I dunno, Pony—What do you think?” Steve teases, rolling his eyes and re-entering the classroom.

“Y’know, we could’ve just pretended we were talking to him and then steal the paper.” Darrel says, leaning on the door frame. “That would take all the fun out of it!” Sodapop smiles, sitting down at the teachers desk and rummaging through the papers.

They all knew about the ‘naughty list’. Of course they did, every teacher who ever had to deal with them got one. None of them wanted to stay in school during Christmas break—Darry usually wouldn't allow this, but he had work and couldn't miss it. Sodapop and Steve go through the papers on the desk while Darrel and Pony keep watch for the door. They doubt Johnny's gonna catch either of them—but any other teacher could come barreling in here. Their plan wasn't foolproof by any means. They were just gonna stash the paper someplace and hope Johnny doesn't notice until the end of the day—he doesn't seem like the kind of guy to actively try to get them in trouble, Darry thinks he's a bit of a doormat. If his employer talked to him the way Mr.Sheldon did, it'd be brought right to corporate. "Found it!" Soda exclaims waving the paper around in the air. Steve snatches it from his hands to stash it—he pauses when he takes a good look at it, furrowing his brows. All three of the others simultaneously ask why he's doing it, crowding around them. Did he write scathing accounts of whatever they had done that day? Did he make up crazy things to get them in trouble? No.

In fact, he didn't write anything. The paper was left exactly like it had been handed to him—aside from a few doodles on the margins.

"Huh?" Darrel mutters, taking it from Steve. He was sure his run to the bathroom would at least be mentioned. If he pulled that with Tim in charge he would've been dragged right to the office. "So we just did all of that for nothing?" Pony asks, crossing his arms. He hadn't done much of anything—Johnny didn't really talk, so he didn't even have the opportunity to say something snarky. And hey, he's not gonna be an ass to the guy who gave him free food. "Looks like it.” Darrel mutters, setting the paper back down. “Maybe they gave him more than one.” Steve says, already going back to the now messy pile. “Surely.“ Soda agrees, joining him.

They had gone through the whole stack and were in the middle of putting it back when Ponyboy jumps and starts whisper-yelling. “He’s coming!” He says frantically. “I just saw him at the end of the hall, hurry up!”

They all bolt back to their desks, leaving some of the papers awry but hopefully not enough to be noticeable.

Johnny walked in with Dallas and Two-Bit the collar, both bent in half because he couldn’t quite keep his arms up. Two practically face-plants when he lets go, scrambling back to his desk without a word. Dallas goes back to his desk as well, resting back on his hands. “Did you hide it?” He asks, looking back at Steve and Sodapop, only loud enough for them to hear.

”No—he didn’t write anything on it.”

”Seriously? Talk about a doormat.” Dallas scoffs, sparing a glance Johnny’s way. He sleeve was caught on his crutches and he was currently trying to pull them free.

“Did he seriously catch you guys?” Ponyboy asked. Leaning forward to peak around his older brother. “Are you kidding? Of course not.” Dallas says, turning to face him fully. “Tim saw us and helped him out.” He pauses. “Do you seriously think that cripple could catch me? If the cops of New York City can’t—“

Dallas gets a tap on the shoulder—He gives Two-Bit and odd look, but the redhead is just staring forward. Dallas turns to see what he’s looking at. Johnny is glaring at him, he’d no doubt heard what he said.

“My bad, man.” Dallas shrugs, turning to face him fully. “You get it though, right? It’s not like you don’t know your legs are fucked up.”

Darrel gives him a hefty smack on the back of the head for that comment. But of course, Dallas takes note that he’s getting under the man’s skin—he can’t help but see how far he can go.

“He’s been a cripple his whole life, it’s not like he’s not used to it. It’s just the truth.” Dallas says to Darrel, turning only he head to look back at him. “I mean, even if he could walk right—he’s like 5’2, he couldn’t catch me anyway.” When he faces forward again—Johnny’s right there.

He gets a slap so hard that the sound reverberates off the walls—there’s a red handprint on his cheek, and the skin is hot to the touch when he reaches up to touch the stinging skin in disbelief.

“Don’t you dare call me that again.” Johnny bites, a tone that’s uncharacteristic for him. “I am not a cripple, I am not a child,” he glances up at the rest of the room. “and I certainly don’t need pity from a bunch of angsty teenagers who can’t seem to keep their shit together for more than ten minutes.” Everything is said in a cold, biting tone. Every boy in the room sits and watches with wide eyes and open mouths.

“And by the way, you clearly aren’t that hard to catch—seeing as you’ve been in prison six times in the last 8 months.” He practically sneers, his hands curling into fists. “Now sit down, do your work, and stop acting like the drop-outs everyone knows you’re gonna be.”

He doesn’t give the blonde a moment to respond, going and sitting back at his desk. Dallas sits there for a moment, gaping with his hand still on his cheek. Just as he’s about to get up and give the man a piece of his mind, he hears slow clapping from the doorway.

Tim leans against the frame, clapping slowly and giving Johnny a surprised-yet-proud smile. “See, this is why I like this guy.” He laughs, standing up. “John, can I talk to your for a second?”

Johnny sighs but stands up, giving the room one final glare before heading outside and slamming the door shut behind him. It takes only a single second before they stand and go the door, trying to hear their conversation.

“You alright?” Tim asks, nudging him.

”Of course I’m alright.” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “We weren’t that obnoxious when we were kids, were we?”

“You weren’t, I probably was.” Tim chuckles.

“I just don’t get it—When I was their age, I couldn’t stand it if an adult didn’t like me.” Johnny says, tightening his fingers around his biceps. “Did I do something to make them hate me? Am I that annoying?”

Tim scoffs, smacking him upside the head lightly. “Don’t say shit like that.” He scowls, shaking his head. “And no, you’re not. They were worse with me when I first came around. Honestly, they still probably treat you better than they do with me.” Tim pauses, glancing down at the boy. “They all didn’t deal with uh—what you did, y’know? It’s still a miracle to me that you weren’t just like they were.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “The only reason I ever did anything right was to get out of that house.” He shrugs. “Besides, the only reason they treat me better than you is because they pity me. And yet, I don’t think I’ve ever been called a cripple more times in my life.”

Tim sighs, glancing back at the door. “I can smack ‘em all real good for you, if you need.”

”I kinda already did.” Johnny scratches the back of his neck. “I oughta apologize, huh?”

”Did he apologize to you?” He says it like he knows who it was—but then again, he could probably guess. Even if he didn’t have a bright red handprint on his face, Dallas’ll always be an asshole. Johnny thinks for a moment and shakes his head. “Then don’t apologize to him. Lord knows he doesn’t deserve it.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything, furrowing his brows.

“I got something that’ll get you in a better mood.” Tim says finally. “How about you come over to mine tonight, huh? Curl’s has been missing you.”

“Has he?” Johnny laughs. “Guess I can’t say no to that, huh?”

”No, you can’t.” Tim says matter-of-factly. “I’ll see you tonight, good luck.”

Back in the room, the boys all listened with the same horrified looks on their faces that they had earlier.

“Good going, Dal.” Pony says, kicking him lightly. “You pissed off the one teacher that wasn’t an ass.”

”Watch your mouth, Pony.“ Darrel scolds before he can stop himself. “You’d better apologize to him, Dallas.”

“Yeah, yeah. I will.” He mutters—trying and failing to hide that he was a little upset with himself too. “I didn’t think he’d care that much.”

”Bullshit.” Steve says, rolling his eyes and getting back to his seat. They all are sat by the time Johnny enters the room again. He gives them all a suspicious look before heading back to his desk, squinting his eyes at the messed up papers. “Did you guys mess with these?” He askes.

Ponyboy, fearing a slap of his own, quickly shouts—

“No sir!”

Johny just gives him an odd look before putting everything in a neat stack and carrying on. The room is deathly silent for a few minutes—all of them refusing to speak or move. They all stare at him expectantly, jumping when the man lifts his head up.

He sighs, pushing himself to his feet, foregoing the crutches and just leaning on the desk.

“I apologize for my outburst.” He says, giving an awkward smile.

“Dallas deserved it—“ Two-Bit begins, getting a loud smack on the back of his head from the blonde beside him. Johnny can’t help but laugh, shaking his head.

He spares a glance out the window and smiles, an idea forming in his head. “How about I make it up to you, huh?” He says, catching everyone’s attention. “We might be able to sneak outside if anyones quiet in the hallway. I’m sure Tim’ll cover for me.”

It’d been snowing for the last few days—it was finally starting to stick and was at just the right height to go outside in. While just about all of them were much too old to go outside and play in the snow, they all jumped at the opportunity.

“Really?” Ponyboy asks excitedly, causing his brother to laugh.

“Eh, why not.” Johnny shrugs.

The group immediately stands and begin to talk excitedly—no teachers have let them play outside in the snow since elementary. Johnny ducks around the desk and grabs his crutches, struggling to get them under his arm while the boys all but tug him along. Darry shoos them all away—he attempts to help Johnny walk, only to be shoved off.

“I can walk just fine.” Johnny says, glaring at him before he can stop himself. Darry blinks at him for a moment before nodding, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “So empowering.” Two-Bit snickers, getting shoved half-way to the ground for it. Johnnys barely able to grab his jacket from his chair before he’s dragged out of the room like a rag doll.

They all head out of the classroom quietly. Once again, the boys seem to walk around Johnny in a protective circle of some kind. He can’t help but roll his eyes. Johnny ducks his head in Tim’s classroom and all but begs him to cover for them—to which he says he’ll try his best. They all grab their gloves and scarves out of their lockers, Darry has to strangle Dallas with one until he wears it. Johnny let’s Steve and Soda sneak into the gym and steal a football before they all head outside.

Johnny takes them out to the football field—which is just far away enough from the office for no authority to see them but close enough to be on campus. Johnny opens it with his keys and lets them all inside, shutting the fence gate behind them. He lets them all run off—Ponyboy face-plants within minutes, and Dallas is already trying to climb the fence and leave.

Its just tall enough that he knows nobody’ll make it—Johnny’d climbed a lot of fences as a kid, he knew the right heights that wouldn’t let anyway through. Eventually Dallas gave up and joined the rest of them.

Darry soon joined Johnny on the sidelines, watching the boys play.

“You’re not gonna join them?” The older asks, gesturing to the group currently tossing a football back and forth. Darry scoffs, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m too old to be playing in the snow.” He says, shaking his head.

“Are you now?” Johnny asks with a laugh—in his eyes, all of them are kids. Darrel doesn’t quite seem to like that. “I don’t see what you’re laughing about. If you joined in every’d think you were Pony’s age.”

Johnny pauses, furrowing his brows and looking up at him. “Hey, I’m still an adult, y’know. You’d better watch what you say.” He says with no real malice behind it. Darrel raises a brow. “You’re only a few years older than me.”

Johnny squints up at him. “I’m three years younger than you.” Darrel adds, making the other all-but gasp. “Huh? Aren’t you a little old to be a senior, then?” Johnny asks, looking him up and down.

Darry seems to think for a second—like he’s deciding if he wants to say something. Finally, he does. “I had to take a gap year because my parents died.” He pauses. “Someone had to provide for the family.”

Johnny looks utterly horrified, ducking his head down quickly. “Oh my good—I’m so sorry, I didn’t—“

Darrel laughs, ruffling his hair—if he hasn’t just got the ‘dead parents’ answer, Johnny would smack him just as hard as he smacked Dallas. “It’s alright.” Says Darrel, still laughing. They are silent for a second, Johnnys face still masked in absolute horror.

“Since we’re asking personal questions,” Darry says finally, looking down at the other. “How exactly did you get you crutches? It doesn’t seem like you’ve always had them.”

Johnny grimaces. 1, because he pretty much just said it’s clear Johnny has no clue what he’s doing. 2, because he’d rather have a heart attack and die then answer that damn question. “That’s too personal. I’m not telling a student that.” He says simply, shaking his head.

“You asked me about my dead parents.”

Johnnys gapes. “That’s because I didn’t—“ He cuts himself off with a loud sigh, his body tensing when Darry looks at him expectantly. “My dad drove me off a cliff after my graduation.”

Now, It’s Darrel’s turn to look horrified.

“Oh.” He mutters, averting his gaze. “Did he…mean to?” He asks, quickly adding—“I’m sorry, I should ask that—“

”Of course he did.” Johnny says like it’s no big deal, kicking his feet in the snow. “I think he wanted to kill me. He never did like me much.”

Darry stares at him for a long while, Johnny refusing to look him in the eye. He’s not quite sure why he told the boy that—he really wished he just lied. “I heard what you and Tim were saying to eachother.” Darry says finally. Johnny shrugs. “I figured there was a reason you guys were being so nice to me.” ”It’s not—“

”Pity?” Johnny askes, raising his brow and finally look at him. Darry makes a guilty face before he can stop himself. “It’s okay, man, I’m used to pity by now.” Johnny gives him a sweet smile. “I mean, look at me!”

Darry just grimaces, shaking his head. He looks like he wants to say something else but keeps his mouth shut. Johnnys already looking around for an excuse to get out of this conversation, Steve and Soda give him an excuse—wrestling in the snow.

“Hey!” He calls, taking a step forward. They both pause, look at him, an then get right back to it. Johnny rolls his eyes, walking up to them and managing to pull Soda off of him. “None of that, okay? If any of you get hurt, I’ll get in trouble.”

Soda gives him a guilty look.

Johnny raises an expectant brow.

”We won’t!” Steve says finally, pulling himself to his feet. Soda nods quickly. Johnny just rolls his eyes, giving them one lalook before going back to the sidelines.

Darrels looking at him with wide eyes—Johnny doesn’t have to wonder why for long.

“Your jacket—“ he says, furrowing his brows. Johnny gives him a confused look before looking begins himself—he’s wearing his college’s varsity jacket, since it’s the warmest one he owns. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Did you go there?”

Johnny gives him an odd look—why would he wear a jacket for a college he didn’t even go to? He had done his last two years of High-school in America, and ended up getting a full-ride to The University of Oklahoma—more specifically, the Norman campus.

“Yeah, man.” Johnny laughs. “Why do you ask?”

”I uh—“ Darrel rights himself, like he’s trying not to fangirl. “It’s where I want to go. I heard they had a really good football team.” He says, shrugging. Johnny glances up at him, smiling. “They were pretty good, as much as I remember.” He says—it’s clear Darrel wants to ask, so he keeps going. “I bet you have a chance—I got in on a full-ride soccer scholarship, and I wasn’t half as good as you are at football.”

Darrel gives a weird look—Johnny can’t help but get defensive.

“I wasn’t always on crutches! I wasn’t a pity player, I swear.”

“That’s not why I looked at you like that.” Darrel says, looking him up and down. “You got a full-ride sports scholarship and you…chose to be a teacher?”

That catches Johnny off guard. He knows that it’s becoming more and more obvious to the general public that teachers make shit salaries, but he’s never had a kid comment on it….to his face. His mouth opens and closes for a minute. “Well—I can’t exactly play soccer, can I?” He says finally, making the other laugh.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” Darrel rights himself—giving Johnny a guilty look. “It’s okay, you were supposed to.” Johnny shrugs, leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet.

They’re silent for a few minutes, watching the rest of the boys tackle each other and lug a football at each other's heads. It’s cLear Darrel wants to say something, he waits until Johnny’s messing with the rubber handle of his crutches.

“If it’s you jacket, why’s it so big?” Darrel asks finally, glancing down at him.

Okay, ouch.

“Well, uh…” Johnny scratches the back of his neck. “I couldn’t really afford me own… I got this one for free—but I didn’t get to choose the size.”

Darrel gives him a look that he can’t quite comprehend, he’s spared a look Dallas’s way. Not that he has time to wonder what that means, it seems the second he’s looking away they’re already plotting against him again.

He feels the biting cold of the snow before he realizes he’s laying face first in it. Someone’s on top of him—Jesus, this guy needs to lose some weight—and rolls off just as fast as he jumped onto him.

Johnny hears a loud bout of laughter and realizes it’s Two-Bit, pushing himself up to a kneel and seeing firey red hair. “Sorry man!” Two manages between laughter. “You just—God! That was funny!”

Johnny blinks at him twice before rolling his eyes.

He goes to stand, someone grabbing his arm and dragging him to his feet. He can’t help that yelp that leaves his mouth at the unexpected contact. He looks at the perpetrator, seeing Dallas Winston of all people. Dallas hands him his crutches without looking at him, kicking Two-Bit in the ribs twice as he scrambles to his feet.

“Uh—Thanks.” Johnny mutters, getting his arms back in the crutch.

“No problem. He’s an asshole.” Dallas shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets quickly. Johnny watches and sees his shiver, frowning. Dallas doesn’t have a scarf, gloves, or a hat like the rest of them do. He’s got a thick leather jacket, dark jeans, and cowboy boots. And as someone who grew up wearing something similar in this weather, Johnny can’t help but feel bad.

“Are your hands cold?” He asks. Dallas opens his mouth—no doubt to say no—but Johnny has already taken his off and has them thrusted towards his chest. Dallas blinks one, twice, then shoved them back towards him. “Those want fit me.” He says like a petulant child, shoving his hands in his pockets again.

There’s an odd look on his face—one that only got worse when Johnny handed him his gloves. It takes him a moment to understand what it is.

Guilt.

Dallas let’s out a sigh, rolling his shoulders like he’s gearing up to talk.

“Look,” he begins. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier—I was being a douche.”

Johnny has to stop himself from gasping. Dallas was known for never apologizing—he kicked a pregnant teacher in the stomach in sixth grade, when the principal told him he could’ve hurt the baby, he said she could just open her legs and make another just as easy. Last year he slammed a kids head into the locker so hard that it gave him a concussion, and he just shrugged it off.

One glance to the left and he can see Darry pretending not to watch them, he’s sure that the other is making Dallas do this.

“It’s alright, I’m used to it.” He quickly realizes that’s not the argument he thought it was. Dallas looks even more miserable, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t be, man. It ain’t right to say shit like that.” He pauses, finally making eye contact. “Darry uh—told me what happened.”

It doesn’t take Johnny long to realize he means the crash. He’s about to send a glare that boy’s way, before realizing there is no way he could’ve told Dallas that in the amount of time it took Two-Bit to get off of him. He was definitely listening to their conversation. Little creep.

“It’s nothing to feel bad about.” Johnny says, not looking at him. “You’re a kid, it’s kinda’ your job to talk bad about adults, huh?”

Dallas blinks at him. “You really don’t care?”

Johnny just shrugs.

It takes Dallas a moment to do anything. He digs a hand in his back pocket and pulls out two twenty’s. “I stole this when you weren’t looking.” He says guiltily, letting Johnny snatch it from his hands and tuck it back in his wallet. “I can’t even hate this, it’s pretty impressive.” Johnny was sure he hadn’t turned his back to Dallas for more than two seconds.

Dallas, once again, looking utterly confused when he just accepts it.

He spares a glance behind Johnny’s head, rolling his eyes. “Hey,” he says, nodding to the space behind him. “You might wanna duck.” he says simply. Johnny has no time to react. Dallas grabs him by the jacket collar and tugs him down. When he’s let go, he notices a crushed snowball rolling down his chest.

“Thanks.” Johnny can’t help but laugh, sparing a glance back at a petrified Steve. Dallas shrugs. “Guess I owe ya’.”

Johnny looks at him confusedly.

“You never filled out the list.”

“Huh?” Johnny mutters, still very much not catching on.

“The list of shit we did? You didn’t write anything down.” Dallas explains, raising a brow. Johnny blinks—when did they get a look at that?

“Well, you guys didn’t do anything that bad. Not compared to what I expected, at-least.” Johnny shrugs. Dallas once again gives him that guilty look. “That little stunt you and Two-Bit did, running through the halls, pushed me very close to writing something down.”

Dallas looks like he wants to smile but then steels his gaze. Does this guy always try to intimidate the people he’s apologizing to? Because he’s doing a damn good job. “Just because you expected it, don’t mean it’s right.” Dallas says coldly.

“So… what you’re saying is that you want me to fill it out?” Johnny teases, raising a brow. Dallas opens his mouth to speak, getting a snowball to the side of his face. “Don’t you dare!” Soda, the one who threw it, calls. Dallas wipes the snow off his face and immediately goes to chase the blonde down.

Meanwhile, somewhere across the field, Darrel leans up against the fence. Someone grabs him from behind—he reels around, ready to punch the anonymous person in the face before he sees familiar head of blonde hair.

”Paul?” He asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

Paul shrugs. “Got out early.” He says, glancing at the group outside. “What about you? Who let you guys out here?” Darry opens his mouth to speak—but Paul sees him before Darry can answer. “Jeez—that guy, huh?” He grimaces.

Darrel frowns. “What about him?”

“I’ve only had him once or twice.” Paul shrugs, seemingly noticing Darrel’s change in demeanor. ”Theres nothing wrong with him, I mean, other than the obvious.” Paul laughs, cutting it off awkwardly when Darry doesn’t join him. “Y’know, some of the fella’s dads used to go to school with him. Apparently he used to not be able to speak a lick of English.”

Darry had noticed his accent—but honestly he never would’ve assumed English wasn’t Johnny’s first language. “Good for him, English is hard to learn.” He shrugs.

Paul deflates a little when he notices Darrel isn’t joining him. Darry’s never been one to make fun of people—but he’ll laugh along if it’s his friends. He’s definitely gotten more stoic ever since his folks died.

“Let me know if you guys need help messing with him—what did we do last time, key their car?” Paul smiles, nudging him. Darry grimaces. “We’re planning on leaving him alone.” He shrugs. Paul gives him an odd look. “What, Cus’ of his legs? Y’know I think he’d be upset to hear that.“

Darry frowns. “It’s not pity.” He says quickly, too defensively. Paul’s always been good about picking up whats going on with him.

“Then, what? You taking a liking to the cripple or something?” Paul asks, rolling his eyes when Darry doesn’t answer. “You’ve got a bleeding heart, man.”

Darry wants to defend him—slap Paul I’m the face for calling him that like he did when he called Ponyboy a loser to his face. He hates that he wants to treat Johnny like his little brother. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t need protection. Yet…

”You better watch what you say about him. He slapped Dallas across the face earlier.”

Paul’s eyes go wide. “Seriously?!” He asks, leaning over the fence to squint at Johnny. “And I thought he was a doormat!” Paul chuckles. “I always thought you were gonna be the first to smack some sense into him.”

“I still might.” Darry shrugs.

Paul just chuckles, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Well, call me if you change your mind.” He says, walking off before Darry could answer. Darry just rolls his eyes playfully, turning back to the group. He turns just in time to see Soda frantically trying to escape Dallas Winston. Johnny blows a whistle with his finger just in time—making them all pause and turn to him—Darry might have to steal that tactic.

“We gotta head back inside.” He calls loud enough for them all to hear.

They all wipe the snow off of themselves as they walk back to the building, following behind the oldest like a bunch of lost dogs. Johnny instructs them all to wipe their shoes off at the door—something Darry’s been trying to get them to do for years, but they listen only now. They make it back to the classroom without a hitch, just moments before the bell rings.

Johnny startles at the sudden sound, laughing. “Right on time, guys.” He says, pulling his jacket off. None of the boys get up to leave—Johnny gives them an odd look when he notices.

“Are you guys okay—“ he begins, cut off when half the group come barreling towards him. Ponyboy, Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda all run to him and pull him into a big group hug, Darrel and Dallas watching with a roll of their eyes. Two-But lifts Johnny clean off the ground. “We’re gonna miss you, man!” The redhead cries like a lady who’s husband is going off to war. Johnny frantically tries to push him off, very clearly not happy about his feet not being on the ground.

“Okay, okay, let go!” Johnny cries finally, Two-But dropping him quickly, careful not to hurt him. “You all realize I still work here, right?”

“It won’t be the same.” Ponyboy frowns. “Tim’s gonna be in here again…”

Johnny can’t help but laugh, ruffling the boys hair. “I’ll tell him to cut you guys some slack, okay?”

They all thank him hopefully—they he’ll still be the worst, it’s Tim Shepard after all, but maybe he’ll let them off easy once or twice. They all leave solemnly, trying to stay behind as long as they can. Darry’s the last out—partly to make sure none of the try to stay behind. Johnny’s a breath of fresh air for most of them, since the moment saw him they liked him more than the other teachers.

“Thank you.” Darrel finds himself saying, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Jesus, you guys ask like I found the cure for cancer.” Johny laughs, crossing his arms. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Very well, I’d say.” Darrel smiles. “I mean it, though. I don’t think they’re that well-behaved even with me.”

Johnny gives him a guilty look.

Darrel begins to walk to the door, hanging behind a few extra seconds. “Can I…?” He trails off, holding his arms out. Johnny blinks when he realizes he’s asking for a hug. Johnny just shrugs, hugging him first. “Have a good holiday for me, yeah?” He says, smiling. Darry can’t help but smile as well. “I will.” He says.

Darrel’s not used to being this open around adults—his cheeks burn red when Johnny gives him an odd look, he quickly realizes he’s blocking the door. “Sorry—“ he mutters frantically, stepping out of the way. Johnny just laughs. “You guys are some weird kids, y’know that?”

Darry just nods, giving him one final goodbye.

Johnny doesn’t notice something in his pocket until he’s home. He’s reaching to get his keys, a few papers falling out of his pocket. He does his best to bend over and grab them.

Unfolding them, he finds the silly coloring sheets he had given the boys earlier. Darry must’ve slipped them into his pocket when they hugged. Johnny can’t help but smile, already planning on hanging them on his fridge.

Maybe he doesn’t hate teenagers as much as he thought he did.

Johnny’s often asked about how he ever got the six most troublesome kids to listen to him—it got out quickly that they had a soft spot for him, especially when they always begged Tim to swap out with Johnny whenever he substituted for them. Every time he got the question he’d just shrug.

“Guess I got lucky.” He’d say.

#the outsiders #johnny cade #writing #dallas winston #sodapop curtis #darrel curtis #two bit mathews #tim shepard #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #curly shepard

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