here to be annoying

December 24, 1957

Darry awoke just before midnight to the sound of his bedroom door creaking open.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked the silhouettes of his brothers in the doorway, voice rough.

“Scoot over,” Soda said by way of explanation, hopping up on the bed. After shutting the door behind him, Pony soon followed.

Darry rubbed his eyes. Was Ponyboy — yeah, his arms were covered in something white and powdery. Through a yawn, he asked, “Pony, what are you — what’s all that?”

“Flour,” he whispered. “Me and Soda set a trap for Santa.”

“How —”

“We sprinkled it on the floor so we could see his footprints,” Soda said.

Darry settled back on his elbows, amused. “You did, huh?” He was almost a teenager — decidedly too old for Santa — but it seemed his younger brothers weren’t.

“And we put a whoopee cushion on the chair!” Pony exclaimed, bouncing up and down on the bed and making the springs creak. “So when he sits down to eat his cookies, we’ll hear him. That one was my idea.”

“That’s real smart,” Darry told him, impressed. Pony preened.

“Wait ‘til you hear this one.” Soda’s eyes sparkled in the dark. “We put some empty cans right against the front door so it’ll make a big racket when he opens it.”

“We thought he’d prob’ly come in through the door since we don’t have a chimney,” Ponyboy helpfully supplied.

Darry nodded. “Makes sense. How else is he gonna get in?”

“Right!” Soda exclaimed. Darry shushed him, hoping he hadn’t woken their parents. “Oh. Sorry,” he apologized, quieter. “Anyway, we thought you’d wanna stay up with us to listen for him.”

Darry chuckled. There was no way his little brothers were making it more than thirty minutes before they were both out cold. “Sure. Come on and get under the covers.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. The boys made themselves comfortable in Darry’s bed, smooshing him against the wall. One of Pony’s legs was hanging off the side, but he didn’t seem to mind too much, just giggled with Soda for a minute before they both fell quiet.

Darry had just slung an arm around Soda and closed his eyes again when he heard something coming from the living room. Something… flatulent.

“It’s him!” Pony shot out of bed, Soda hot on his heels. “It’s Santa! He’s really here!”

“Hang on a sec.” Darry stood, holding an arm out to keep them back. He was pretty sure his parents snuck out of bed early in the morning to put the presents under the tree, but it’s possible they could’ve decided to do it differently this year. He didn’t want his brothers to ruin the magic for themselves.

“Let me go first,” he said. “Just in case Santa’s mad he got caught, you know.”

“Good idea,” Soda whispered, grasping Ponyboy’s hand. Whether he did it out of excitement or to hold him back, Darry didn’t know.

He crept out the door, then peeked around the corner into the living room. The person standing there sure wasn’t Santa, but they weren’t Mom or Dad, either. Darry found himself on the receiving end of a sly, catlike smile. He rolled his eyes fondly, shaking his head.

“It’s safe,” he whispered to the boys, then gestured for them to join him.

They ran gleefully forward, sliding in their stocking feet, but stopped short when they saw who it was.

“Dally?” Pony groaned, slumping his shoulders. “What are you even doing here?”

Dally shrugged. “I wanted some cookies.” He had a smudge of chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

“How’d you get past the cans?” Soda demanded to know.

“The what?”

“The cans by the door. The ones for Santa.”

“Y’all know Santa ain’t —”

Darry pointedly cleared his throat, sending Dally a glare.

“— uh, comin’ ‘til later, right?” Dally finished, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yeah. That’s why we’re stayin’ up all night,” Pony told him. “Also, those cookies are for Santa, not you.” He crossed his little arms in front of his chest, pouting.

“Dal, are you stayin’ the night?” Darry asked before Pony could get himself all worked up.

“I dunno,” he hedged, looking around the room at the Christmas tree in the corner and the candlesticks in the windows.

“You should!” Soda said. “But you should sleep in my bed ‘stead of the couch so you don’t scare Santa off.”

He scoffed. “I ain’t sharin’ a bed with —”

“You won’t be! Me and Pone are bunking with Darry tonight so we can listen for Santa. You’ll have the whole place to yourself.”

Dally appeared to consider this for a moment. “Okay,” he finally muttered.

“Just don’t fart in my bed,” Soda told him with a smirk, gesturing to the chair that concealed the whoopee cushion.

There was that catlike grin again. “Oh, I’ve got a big one locked and loaded —”

“‘Night, Dally,” Darry announced, steering his brothers down the hall.

When they reached Darry’s room, Ponyboy tugged on his hand. “Is Dally gonna stay for breakfast and presents?” he whispered.

“I dunno. Do you want him to?”

“I think so.”

Darry smiled. “Me, too.” He picked Pony up under the armpits and placed him on the bed, then did the same to Soda, even though both of them were tall enough to get up there on their own.

Darry was last to slide under the covers. He pulled Soda to lay half-on top of him so he had enough room. Pony wrapped his arms around Soda’s back, holding tight. Darry reached over and smoothed his soft hair back from his forehead.

He was right — both of them were sound asleep not ten minutes later, and he followed them into dreamland not long after, warm and content.