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Johnny trudged down the street toward the Curtis’ house, head bowed to the force of the rain. Water was pouring from the sky in sheets of wet, soaking him to the bone. He wrapped his jacket tighter around his shoulders and continued wading down the street. After what seemed like hours (but was more like minutes), he opened the Curtis' door and slipped inside. Inside the living room, Sodapop’s head shot up.
“Glory, Johnny, you’re just about soaked through!” Johnny shivered. Gee, thanks. I hadn’t noticed, Johnny thought sourly. “Go and sit Johnny, I’ll get ya somethin’ to wear.” Johnny plopped down onto the floor. Soon, Soda came bustling back in, holding a pair of pants and a shirt. “I think Pony’s stuff’ll fit ya fine,” he told Johnny, “You can change in his room.” Johnny nodded, thanking heaven his skin was too dark for Soda to see his blush at wearing Pony’s stuff. It was a thought he’d had many times since Pony had turned 15, when, for some reason, the "friend" category his brain decided that Pony was no longer its problem, and instead thoroughly tossed him down to Johnny's heart. Pony was 17 now, and it hadn’t gotten any better. Shaking off his thoughts, he took the clothes as he made for Pony’s room.
“Where’s Pony, anyway?” he asked over his shoulder as he headed down the hallway. Pony was usually home by four, and it was a quarter ‘til five.
“He’s tutoring at some kid's house. He’ll be home soon, Jane’s pickin’ him up,” Soda called back. Johnny nodded, then made his way into the room, which could better be referred to as a library with the number of books in it. Johnny waded through the stacks towards the bed and set the bundle down. He stripped, grabbed the pile, and pulled the clothes on, studiously ignoring the warmth in his stomach at being wrapped in the scent of books and grass. He flopped down on the bed and grabbed the nearest book. Johnny had come here to see Pony, so he figured he might as well pass the time...
Suddenly, the door banged open and Pony rushed in, babbling excitedly about something. Then, he abruptly stopped talking, which was unusual. When he was excited, Pony usually wouldn’t shut up for anything. Johnny looked over his shoulder to see Pony staring at him, slack-jawed. Johnny looked down at himself.
“Do I have something on my fac-” Johnny suddenly found himself cut off by soft lips on his. Pony drew back quickly, eyes wide.
“Sorry, don’t hate me, I just, you’re wearing…” Pony stuttered, then bolted out of the room. Johnny stared after him, bewildered. He touched his fingers to his lips. Pony had kissed him, apparently because of what he was wearing? Johnny looked down. Oh. He was wearing Pony’s track jersey. And apparently he really liked that… Johnny flushed. He likes me! Oh crap, he likes me! Johnny leapt of the bed and tore out of the room. Jane and Dally were sitting in the living room with identical expressions of confusion.
“Y’all seen Pony?” Johnny asked breathlessly.
“Yeah, he just tore outta here like the hounds of hell were after him. Said something about the lot?” Dally told him.
“Thanks,” Johnny called. He caught sight of Jane smiling knowingly at him and Dally shrugging in confusion as he flew through the door.
Thankfully, Pony was at the lot when Johnny ran up, out of breath. He was sitting on the curb, head in his hands, when Johnny stepped in front of him. Pony’s head snapped up and Johnny noticed that his eyes were red and puffy-like he’d been crying. He felt a pang of guilt. He hated thought of making Pony cry.
“I’m real sorry, Johnny, I don’t know what go into me. You can hate me, I won’t be mad, I’m so sorry,” he babbled. Johnny’s heart ached. How could Pony think Johnny could ever hate him? Some of his upset must have shown on his face because then Pony stood. “Okay, I’ll just go. I’m real sorry,” Pony said sadly, turning to leave. Johnny snapped out of his daze and grabbed Pony’s arm and yanked him around, pushing him up against a nearby tree.
“Shut. Up.” He snapped, punctuating each word with a jab to Pony’s chest. “You goddamned moron, I’ve liked you since I was 17 fucking years old!” Pony just stared at him. Johnny rolled his eyes, grabbed a handful of that soft auburn hair and jerked Pony forward, slotting his lips against his best friend’s. For a few seconds, Pony just stood there, and Johnny began to worry that maybe he had misread the situation, when he was suddenly the one pushed up against the tree. Pony was taller than him-and when had that happened-and his arms were braced against the trunk, caging Johnny in. Pony grinned down at him, lips kiss-swollen and eyes dancing.
“Since I was fifteen, eh?” Johnny glared at him.
“Shut up.” Pony’s grin sharpened, contrary to the gentle hand that covered Johnny’s hip.
“Make me.” So Johnny did.
Back in the Curtis house, as Soda turned a satisfied smile the way Johnny had left, Dally looked to Jane.
“What the hell just happened?” She shrugged her shoulders with studied confusion.
“Dunno.” Dally threw his hands up and stomped away. Jane raised an eyebrow at Soda.
“What’d ya do?” Soda widened his eyes innocently.
“Who, me?”