Work Text:
The first thing Darry thinks when he walks in is that it’s quiet. Too quiet.
One thing the Curtis house never is- is quiet.
Ponyboy said he’d be out with the Shepherd kid tonight, but Soda should have been home from work hours ago; and where Soda is, Steve is normally right behind.
Darry’s about to open his mouth and call out when he hears hushed voices and a muffled laugh from down the hall.
Rolling his eyes with a smirk, he dumps his work belt on the kitchen table and grabs the mail left there, rifling through it absently as he trudges through the house towards his brother’s room. If his brain weren’t full of number crunching bills and work plans for tomorrow, maybe he’d stop to wonder why the sound was coming from Soda’s old room, practically abandoned since he moved in with Pony almost a year ago.
A moan, and there’s no other way to put it, it’s a moan, is the only thing that catches him- wide eyes darting up from the papers in his hand.
The door is open, just more than a crack, but enough that Darry can see into the room.
Can see his little brother, his little brother on the bed, writhing and pinned beneath Steve Randal. He can see the way Steve rolls his hips under the sheets ( thank God under the sheets), can see how he wraps his thick arms around Soda’s naked body and pants against his throat while Soda claws at his shoulders, head thrown back as he lets out punched out gasps with every movement.
Darry stands there in the hall. Frozen.
His first thought is that it’d be different if it were a girl; If he walked in on Soda messing around with some broad. He’d leave them be, wait til she’d left, then tease and rib his brother relentlessly and promptly forget the whole thing.
His second thought, is that some guy has their hands on his little brother.
Fury makes his blood boil, and without a third thought he swings the door open so viciously that it slams against the wall hard enough to rattle the walls and startle matching shouts and cries of shock from the bed.
“Darry?!” Soda yelps, high-pitched and horrified.
Darry glares, too angry to care for their embarrassment as the boys scramble apart. He says a prayer of thanks again for the sheets covering their lower halves as Soda winces and Steve grimaces in discomfort before their panic takes over again. Soda claws the sheets up to his chest, knuckles white as he stares at Darry like a deer in headlights, while Steve contorts to yank a pair of boxers from the floor, hissing and cussing under his breath.
Darry stares them down for a moment, waits until Steve whips round to look at him again, braced for his rage. Soda is frozen.
For a moment, nobody says a word. Then Darry grits out,
“You- Get out here. We need a talk.”
He watches the two exchange nervous glances, Soda swallowing as he moves to reach for some pajama pants strewn on the floor.
“No, not you.” Darry shakes his head, jabbing a finger to Steve, “You.”
Soda’s eyes widen, and Darry can see the tiniest shock of red where he’s worrying his trembling lower lip.
Steve just glares back at Darry, unmoving for a moment or two. It’s not quite a challenge- Steve's too smart to forget the ache in his jaw all those years ago- but it’s not a submission either. Hell, Darry might even be impressed under different circumstances.
“Porch, Randal- and put a damn shirt on.” he grunts coldly, turning around and stalking out of the room.
He hears Soda’s voice call his name weakly, tiny and scared and so different to the larger than life kid that Darry’s used to hearing every day, and he quickens his stride and ignores the way his entire body yearns to hurry back to his little brother’s side.
He slams the front door harder than he means to, the rickety porch creaking with every step as he stalks to the end and leans against the railing, running a hand through his hair with a shaky exhale.
The night air is biting against his skin, but his heart is still pounding as rapidly as it was when he walked into his brother’s room not even five minutes ago.
Six minutes ago, everything was right in the world. Six minutes ago, Darry’s biggest concern was the kitchen tap playing up a little and praying Ponyboy wasn’t getting into too much trouble god knows where with Curly Shepherd.
Fuck, thank god the kid isn’t home for this. For once, Darry almost hopes Ponyboy will miss his curfew.
The door screeches open, jerking him from his thoughts.
He doesn’t turn his head, opting instead to keep his gaze fixed steadily on his truck down on the drive.
There’s silence for a beat or two before Steve’s gruff voice breaks the icy air, “You gonna put me six feet under or what?”
Darry grits his teeth, feeling an ache between his furrowed eyebrows, “Carry on and I’ll make it twelve.”
Steve doesn’t have anything to say to that. Probably wise, seeing as Darry is still having to shush that roaring voice in his head telling him to grab the kid by the back of his neck and throw him down the stairs.
Then he hears, quieter than before, “You scared him real bad.”
Darry closes his eyes tightly, heart squeezing painfully in his chest at the thought of his brother- his sweet, gentle little brother- shivering alone in his room and thinking Darry hates him.
Steeling himself, he turns to fix Steve with a glare, “He should be scared. You both should be scared.” he hisses.
He sees the way Steve bristles, muscles flexing as his hands clench into fists, “You ain’t gonna hurt him.” he snaps.
“Steve-”
“What, just like that he ain’t your brother anymore? Just because he’d rather kiss a gu-”
“Shut your mouth, for god’s sake!” Darry snarls, glancing down the dark, empty street and praying that none of the neighbors are out for an evening stroll.
Steve is still staring him down like a bull, breathing hard and shoulders tensed to charge. As if Darry hasn’t known him since he was seven. The kid’s terrified.
Taking a deep breath, Darry grips the railing tightly for a moment before relaxing his hold, feeling some of the tension leave his hands, “Dammit, Steve; I’d never hurt him, you know that. I couldn’t.”
Steve doesn’t move for a moment, then he slowly comes over and leans on the porch railing beside Darry. He’s still stiff, but Steve’s never totally relaxed. Darry’s noted it because he’s the same way.
Unthinking, Darry reaches into the back pocket of his work trousers, pulling out a lighter and two cigarettes before offering one silently.
Steve frowns at it for a moment before he takes it, watching as Darry sets both the cancer sticks alight, “Thought you didn’t smoke.”
“I don’t.” Darry grunts, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply, holding it for a moment before letting it go with a sigh, “Tell Pony and I’ll skin you. I just got him to cut down.”
Steve huffs in half-hearted amusement taking a drag of his own cigarette. Darry doesn’t miss the way his breath shakes a little on the exhale.
They smoke in silence for a minute or two, Steve relaxing little by little as he comes to terms with the fact that Darry isn’t going to lunge for him at any moment, before Darry looks at him with a frown, “I really hope you know how stupid what you’re doin’ is.”
And for once, Steve doesn’t bite.
Green eyes flicker to Darry, a barely visible wince, before the kid sighs heavily, hanging his head, “I know, okay?”
“I’m serious, Steve.” Darry mutters, “You’re a smart guy- you know damn well how dangerous this is for you. For Soda.”
Steve takes a ragged smoke, harsh and stubborn, “I ain’t gonna let anything happen to him.”
“You can’t know that.”
“We’re careful.”
“Not careful enough apparently.”
When Steve doesn’t reply except to scowl down the drive, Darry pushes, “Have you ever... been together out of the house?”
“What?”
“Dammit, you know what I mean. Have you ever gotten too close out where someone could see?”
Steve doesn’t respond, and Darry narrows his eyes, “Steve.”
Steve sighs, looking pained, “I...we’ve...my car-”
“Okay,” Darry grumbles with a grimace, “That’s it?”
“-and...the drive-in.”
“Randal, you better be shitting me right now-”
“Only twice! And we never... we didn’t...go all the way or nothin’ there...” Steve mumbles, shifting in discomfort.
“The DX?” Darry dares to ask, closing his eyes tightly.
“God, no! We ain’t lookin’ to get fired.”
“For god’s sake, gettin’ fired is the least of my worries.” Darry sighs, taking a long, long drag before he looks back to the boy beside him and says firmly, “From now on- you keep it here, and you lock the damn door.”
Steve’s shoulders are hunched in, shivering slightly against the cold, and his green eyes are locked on something out in the street until he takes in Darry’s words and whips around to look at him so fast that the cigarette nearly goes flying, “Wait, you...you’re not gonna stop us? I can still see him?”
“I should.” Darry grunts, trying to pretend the exposed, desperate relief in Steve’s face doesn’t pull his heartstrings, “For both your goddamn sakes...but no. I ain’t gonna keep you apart.”
“Thank you. Darry, thank you, man-”
“But you gotta be smart, you hear?” Darry warns, sharper this time, “You’re family, Steve; hell, you know that. But if it comes to it...I already nearly lost one kid brother. I can’t lose the other. I won’t.”
And Steve doesn’t roll his eyes, or bite back with a witty jab. He nods, more serious than Darry has ever seen him as he promises, “I won’t let anything happen to him, Dar. I swear it.”
He looks like a man rather than a boy, and some of the fear weighing on Darry’s chest lifts.
“You good to him?” he rasps.
Then he watches as Steve Randal melts, cheeks tinging pink and lip pulling up in a lopsided smirk before he can school it as he shrugs, “Try to be.”
Darry nods, reaching out to grip Steve’s shoulder firmly, “That’s all I ask.”
He takes in one last smoke before he tosses the stub into the corner of the porch to join Pony’s stacked cigarette graveyard.
“Better get back inside. Poor kid probably thinks I’ve already buried your body in the woods.” he chuckles half-heartedly, trudging to pull the front door open.
He glances back when Steve doesn’t immediately follow, raising an eyebrow at the other boy shifting on the porch, “You comin’ or what?”
Steve hesitates, glancing out to the dark street, “You sure you don’t mind me stayin’ tonight?”
Darry sighs, shrugging a shoulder, “Not like I can stop you two doin’ anything you ain’t already done. Now hurry up, you’re letting all the cold air in.”
He shoulders his way through the door, the warmth wrapping around him and draining the last of the tension from his muscles, and holds back a grin when he hears the door shut behind him as Steve trails in too.
“Steve? Dar?”
Soda’s shaky voice is followed by shaky steps as Darry’s kid brother comes stumbling from his room, eyes red-rimmed and glassy with tears.
“Darry, it was both of us,” Soda is rambling, the way he does when he’s real upset, words blurring with panicked, snatched gasps for air as he staggers forward, “Please-please, you can’t get mad at Steve- I-it was me too, I’m sorry, I can’t, I-I don’t-”
Darry crosses the living room in three strides, yanking Soda into a tight hug and hushing him softly. He feels his own tears sting his eyes when his brother tenses for a split second, as if Darry would ever hurt him. The thought alone makes him sick.
“Shh...I’m not mad, Pepsi, it’s okay.” he whispers, swaying gentle as Soda slowly melts in his hold, “I love you. You hear me? I love you so much, and nothing’s gonna change that.”
He holds his little brother like that until Soda’s rapid breaths fade to quivering sniffles before he turns to look over his shoulder, where Steve is hovering by the door with suspiciously wet eyes.
Sighing, Darry reaches out an arm, “Get over here, Randal.”
Steve hesitates for a moment, right until Soda’s head pops out from Darry’s chest and then he’s crossing the room to let Darry drag him into the embrace.
“I’m trusting you boys to be smart about this,” he murmurs between them, “I don’t give a damn what you do, just be safe. That’s all I ask.”
When he gets muffled murmurs of agreement, he pats Steve on the back and presses a kiss to Soda’s forehead, “It’s late- get to bed. Go on.”
And despite being sixteen and seventeen years old with no designated bedtime to speak of, both boys just nod and start heading down the hall without argument to Soda’s old room.
Darry doesn’t miss how Soda reaches back for Steve’s hand as they reach the door, or how Steve takes it as he leans into Soda’s shoulder as they slip through the door before it clicks shut softly.
Alone in the living room, Darry drags his feet to the couch and drops heavily with an exhausted sigh, running a hand down his face in his second of peace before the front door goes swinging open with a rush of cold air.
“I know I’m late- I'm sorry, I swear it wasn’t my fault this time, can we do the lecture tomorrow?” Ponyboy comes stumbling in, shouldering the door shut behind him and blinking at Darry with wide eyes.
Darry blinks back at him once. Twice. Then rolls his eyes and lifts his arm, “Get over here, kiddo.”
Ponyboy frowns suspiciously, inching closer until Darry can grab him and yank him down onto the couch, squeezing him into his side while Ponyboy squirms with a groan, “Can’t breathe, Dar-”
“Sorry.” Darry chuckles, not loosening his hold one bit as his heart finally starts to relax in his chest with the knowledge that his brothers are home and safe. At least for now.
“Am I in trouble or somethin’?” Ponyboy grumbles, as if Darry can’t feel the way he goes limp in his hold.
“Nah...just love you. You and your knucklehead brother.” Darry murmurs, “Even if you’re both gonna drive me grey by the time I’m twenty-two.”