Work Text:
Darry was sitting at the dining table, leg bouncing, chewing the end of his pencil, and glowering down at his math textbook. It wasn’t like him to be so confused over schoolwork, but here he was, completely stumped. In the background, the clock ticked and rang throughout the unusually silent home.
Sodapop was out with Steve in the garage as Mr. Curtis demonstrated an oil change to them. The two had recently expressed an interest in auto-mechanics, and Mr. Curtis was more than happy to teach them all about it.
Mrs. Curtis, on the other hand, was out catching up with some old friends at the mall.
And little ol’ Ponyboy was outside doing God knows what. After Mr. Curtis handed him his chore money earlier that day, he zoomed out of the house, yammering about some book or other.
So that left Darry alone with his math textbook and vexation.
In fact, he’s so deep in thought that he doesn’t hear the front gate swing open, or the door opening, or the sound of approaching footsteps.
So when Ponyboy seemingly pops out of nowhere and taps him on the shoulder, Darry jolts, shrieking “JESUS-!!!” His head whips around, eyes wide, and sees Ponyboy standing behind him, looking at him curiously. It takes Darry a second to process the sight of the other boy that Ponyboy is holding hands with.
“Darry, can we keep him?”
Ponyboy asks bluntly. Darry falters, partially because he’s currently being stared at intensely by the second boy (who has some of the biggest, blackest, and shiniest eyes that Darry has seen in his 13 years of life), but mostly due to Ponyboy’s overall question.
“Keep hi- What do you MEAN, ‘Keep him?!’” Darry almost shouts, dumbfounded. Ponyboy merely shrugs, still holding the other boy’s hand.
“I found him in the trees in the lot. Can we keep him?”
Ponyboy repeats.
“P-Ponyboy, you can’t just ‘keep’ someone! This isn’t an animal! Where are his parents?! Do you even know his name?” Darry asks exasperatedly, looking back at the second boy. Along with his hamster-like eyes, he had medium-length dark, wavy hair that appeared to be a bit matted, tanned skin, and tattered clothes. His clothes were loose and baggy on him, and he was shorter than Ponyboy (which was strange, because even though this kid was pretty small, Darry could still tell that he was older than Ponyboy).
Ponyboy doesn’t answer Darry’s first question, letting it slide by before saying, “His name’s Johnny. Johnny Cade.” Johnny nods silently in confirmation, his hair bobbing up and down along with his head.
Darry sighs, woefully glancing back at his discarded math book. That would have to wait for now. He looks back at Johnny. “Where are your parents, kid?” He asked again. Johnny looked down, quiet, then shrugged. Darry’s eyes widened in disbelief and bewilderment.
“You don-”
He stops himself.
“...Ponyboy, come on. Bring him to Dad.”
Darry finally says, getting out of his chair and starting towards the garage. Ponyboy tugged on Johnny’s hand.
“Come on!”
Just as Darry suspected, Mr. Curtis was with Steve and Sodapop. He looked up at the sound of the door creaking open, face slick with sweat, grease, and oil, but he managed a smile. “Darry? Ponyboy? How-” He spotted Johnny, then stood up from where he was hunched over the hood of the car. “Who’ve you brought with ya, Ponyboy?”
Steve and Sodapop peer over Mr. Curtis’s form, trying to get a better look. “Yeah, Pony, who’s that?” Steve echoes sarcastically, and Sodapop laughs.
Johnny looks down at the floor again as Ponyboy says, “His name’s Johnny! Johnny Cade!”
Darry speaks up. “Ponyboy just walked in with him. He asked me if we could ‘keep him.’”
Steve and Sodapop erupt in laughter as a strange expression comes over the face of Mr. Curtis, a mix of amusement and confusion. “Keep him…?” He repeats.
Ponyboy nods, smiling. “Can we?”
Mr. Curtis tries hard to ignore the boisterous cackling of Steve and Sodapop, and even Darry cracks a small grin.
“Ponyboy, we can’t exactly ‘keep’ him.” Mr. Curtis says slowly. “Johnny, do you know where your parents are?” He says, turning his focus back to Johnny. Once again, Johnny simply shrugs, staring at the floor like his life depends on it.
“Hm…”
Mr. Curtis is quiet for a minute, before sighing.
“Let me take a shower, and we’ll figure this out, ‘kay?”
Ponyboy, Darry, and Johnny nod. Mr. Curtis smiles again and leaves the garage. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Steve and Sodapop bounce.
“You said your name was Johnny?”
“Where d’ya live?”
“What’s up with your hair? Don’t worry, we’ll get ya some grease to fix it up.”
“How come you don’t talk?”
“ Are you mute?”
The questions seem to be endless, and each one makes Johnny shrink back more and more. “W-Well…u-um…I…” He quietly stammers. Darry notices Johnny’s unease and steps in. “Cut it out, you two. You’re scaring him.”
Steve and Sodapop pout, but they stop, and Johnny sighs in relief.
When Mr. Curtis comes back, he asks Johnny the same question: “Where do you live?” Surprisingly, Johnny doesn’t just shrug and stay quiet. “...I-I can show you…?” He offers, his voice soft and feeble.
And just like that, a few minutes later, the 6 of them are walking around the neighborhood, waiting as Johnny silently walks ahead of them all. Darry notices that through all of this, Johnny and Ponyboy still held hands. That…was kind of cute, he had to admit.
Eventually, they stop in front of a shabby, run-down single-story house. Shouting and banging sounds were audible from the inside, as if things were being thrown around.
“...This is your house?”
Mr. Curtis asked quietly. Johnny nodded and moved to stand behind Ponyboy, still holding his hand. Even Sodapop and Steve, who always have something to say (whether it be a joke or sarcastic remark) are struck silent. Darry stands by his father, concerned.
“Dad…” He begins, but his voice trails off at the end. Mr. Curtis stays put for a minute, before stepping up to the door. He knocks once, twice, then thrice. The commotion inside pauses momentarily, but then the door swings open to reveal a small woman with short, black, wavy hair that matches Johnny’s, and hard, dark eyes.
Mr. Curtis forces a smile. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you. But I was just here to ask…” He thinks for a moment. “...Do you know a child named Johnny, perhaps?” He inquires.
The woman cocks an eyebrow. “As a matter ‘a fact, he’s my son. Why? What’d he do this time?” She finally notices Johnny standing behind Ponyboy, and glares at him. “What on Earth have ya done, boy? Getting these damn people to my house-”
Johnny lets out a small, pitiful sound, and Mr. Curtis cuts in. “I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s no need-”
“ No need? I’ll talk to him however I please, that’s my fuckin’ son-”
She suddenly slams the door in frustration, the loud clunk ringing throughout the otherwise empty neighborhood.
Mr. Curtis stands there, baffled. “...”
He turns from the door back to the gang, stepping off the porch steps. “Guess you’re in luck, Pone. We’re keepin’ him, at least for today.”
Ponyboy completely brightens up, jumping up and down. “YAY!!!”. Even Johnny, shy and quiet as he was, smiled. Steve made a “cuckoo” gesture, pointing to his temple, twirling his finger, and making a whistle sound, which made Sodapop giggle again. Darry smiles, and they all follow after Mr. Curtis, who’s started to walk back home.
They’re all pretty psyched, but nobody was as excited as Ponyboy, who finally got his question answered.