Witchy Lee

He let out a breath, watching his teammates all chat, some with nervousness etched acrossed their faces or hidden in their eyes behind a wall of false confidence, or those who were actually confident after the earlier stretch of the meet. Pony bowed his head and took in a deep breath.

He could do this. He knew that he could do this, but it felt like there was loads more pressure on him this time. If he failed, if he lost, then he wouldn't only be letting down his track mates, but also the school, and more importantly to Ponyboy, his brother.

Sodapop would be proud of him no matter what, that was just something that Ponyboy knew. He was proud of his brother no matter what place he came in, seeing as he gave it his best shot. Always willing to celebrate anything that Ponyboy threw his all into, simply because he threw his all into it.

But with Darry? Ponyboy almost never knew what made him proud anymore. Sure, they were getting along better again after… after everything that had happened with the Socs and Windrixville and the church burning down… Glory and the court proceedings and the fear of being separated…

Everything had come to a stand still after Sodapop's outburst, it still bothered Ponyboy that he had never thought about his middle brother and how he was doing after everything… Sodapop always tried to reassure him that it didn't bother him as much as the outburst had suggested. Eight months had built up and let out all at once.

Ponyboy still made an effort every now and then to check on him a little more.

But that still didn't help him with any of his thoughts on his eldest brother…

"Pony?" Ponyboy looked up and over at Johnny, who was doing so much better since last year. His wheelchair fit nearly perfectly beside Ponyboy where he was sitting on the bleachers, he could almost pretend that Johnny was just simply sitting next to him, like all his other track meets that they'd gone to together, or during practice breaks that Johnny would wait for him at.

"Yeah?" Ponyboy let him know that he had his attention.

"You doing okay man?" Johnny asked, watching him in concern and looking like he wanted to reach a hand out but wasn't sure if he should.

"Yeah, yeah," Ponyboy nodded, sitting up a little straighter, as if that would help him clear his head from unnecessary thoughts and distractions. "I'm just fine, Johnnycakes." Ponyboy smirked as Johnny rolled his eyes with a matching expression.

"Okay, whatever, fine man. But you're up next." Ponyboy glanced towards his coach, who was beginning to line up everyone.

"Oh, great." Ponyboy huffed, taking a deep breath once more, and hoping that his lungs would give him just one more good run this week, and fist-bumped Johnny before jumping up and lightly jogging over to his coach.

Time for one more good race.

Ponyboy won. He won. He finished in first place. Ponyboy still couldn't believe it, even hours after and they'd managed to wrangle themselves home. Sodapop had wanted to celebrate, but his idea of a fun time and Ponyboy's were two very different things.

Instead Darry had ordered a pizza, a few pizzas actually, for the gang and had stopped at the store for some ice cream and coke. He'd gotten Ponyboy his own bottle of Pepsi, a bigger bottle that was all for himself unless he wanted to share, whereas the rest of the gang still had to share with one another.

It made him feel special in a way—a very specific way—that Ponyboy hadn't felt in a while. A long while.

The giddy smile was seemingly trapped on his face as the gang all hooted and hollered around him. There would surely be complaints in the morning, but it really seemed like none of the gang cared. Not even Darry cared and Ponyboy couldn't smile any wider at the thought.

It made the knot of anxiety lessen in his chest as he leaned against Johnny; the only one of the gang that was calm. Johnny leaned against him a small bit, hiding a yawn as he let his eyes close.

It took a lot for Johnny to sleep around the gang and Ponyboy felt something in him settle every time he did. Not that he was asleep yet, but it was a pretty close thing.

Ponyboy laughed lightly as Two-bit and Dally started roughhousing. Steve was quick to pull the coffee table out of the way as Sodapop started placing bets. Darry was smiling as he watched from his chair, a bottle of beer in hand. Johnny chuckled slightly as Dally got the upper hand on Two-Bit and pinned him down.

"Say uncle! Say uncle!" Dally cajoled, laughing as Two-Bit struggled against the other.

"Never!" Two-Bit bit back, laughing as much as he could with a light strain appearing in his voice. Ponyboy watched them struggle, laughing with Johnny as Dally and Two-Bit continued to struggle against the other for a few more moments.

"Okay, okay, ease up." Darry chuckled, and Ponyboy bit back his groan of disappointment. He wanted to know who would have won in the end—whether Dally would have held his ground and gotten Two-Bit to call uncle, or if Two-Bit would have gotten the upper hand and pinned Dally or not.

"Awe, come on Dar," Sodapop groaned, a bright smile on his face as he leaned against Steve, who only grumbled briefly before adjusting to accommodate his best friend.

Ponyboy settled and Johnny readjusted with a quiet sigh. Ponyboy felt a bubble of dread build up inside him as he watched Dally and Two-Bit separate, both chuckling as Sodapop and Steve complained about the bet they'd made with each other.

Ponyboy jerked awake, looking around quickly as he realized there was shouting going on around him. He glanced to his side, mind jumping to check on Johnny who was seemingly still asleep; head back on the couch cousin and a blanket draped overtop of him.

He glanced around, flinching slightly when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He glanced behind him, finding Two-Bit looking uncharacteristically serious from where he was laying across the couch. He must have put his blanket overtop of Johnny before laying down.

"Two-"

"Shh," Two-Bit shook his head. Ponyboy frowned before looking towards the kitchen. He could hear Dally and Darry arguing.

"What's happening?" Ponyboy whispered, glancing back at Two-Bit. Two-bit only shook his head. He was lying as if he was sleeping, so Ponyboy moved back to his original position. Two-Bit pat his shoulder before retracting his touch.

Ponyboy's eyes snapped shut, and he feigned as if he was sleeping as Dally stormed out of the kitchen. He was fuming and Ponyboy could nearly feel it. He would say that it felt like it had slipped under his skin and was clawing at him. But it was unrealistic, and he knew it.

"Get out, Dallas." Darry finally grit out. Ponyboy had noticed that the argument had been quieter than any other argument between the guys. They were loud guys and that was just a fact.

"Fine." Dallas uttered after a few moments of surprised silence. Ponyboy peeked, opening his eyes just slightly and watched as Dallas turned and stormed out of the house. The door slammed behind him, and Darry sighed.

It was a chest deep sigh, one that told Ponyboy that Darry was stressed and his thoughts were running around his head pretty feircely.

Ponyboy closed his eyes once more, a quiet sigh accidentally slipping out. Thankfully, Darry only took it as Ponyboy settling in his sleep, as he made his way back into the kitchen.

"You were too hard on him, Darry." Sodapop's voice came from the kitchen moment's later. Ponyboy opened his eyes, glancing towards the kitchen with a frown on his face.

"You okay, Pony?" Johnny asked, and Ponyboy flinched, having thought that Johnny had been asleep. He supposed not, now that he thought about it. Dally had been a little loud when he left.

"Y-yeah, 'm fine." Ponyboy responded quietly, quickly. He shook his head, as if that would clear the clutter that was beginning to muck up his head. He swallowed anxiously as he watched his oldest brother pace in the kitchen…

Or, no, he wasn't watching his brother pace. He was watching the shadow that was coming out of the kitchen doorway. And he was trying to listen to Sodapop calm his oldest brother down.

He wasn't actually listening though.

He was too busy thinking about how his brothers would react to Ponyboy being gay too.

"Pone? You need to breathe." Johnny told him, sitting up and grabbing Ponyboy's arm. He hadn't meant to flinch, but it had surprised him by how tight Johnny's grip had felt.

"I-I am." Ponyboy responded, swallowing as Johnny's grip losened. However, after he purposefully took a deep breath, he found he was able to concentrate a little bit more.

"No, you don't understand, Soda." Darry uttered, his voice sounding strained and tense. "Dallas could bring too much trouble around this time." Darry uttered, and Ponyboy felt like his heart dropped into his stomach.

"He doesn't bring any more trouble than Two-Bit or Steve does!" Sodapop groaned, and Ponyboy felt almost sick. He'd never heard Sodapop and Darry argue before.

Ponyboy pushed himself up, turning and actually facing the kitchen. His eyebrows furrowing. Their conversation had dropped down to quiet murmurs again, and he could see Steve leaning against the doorframe, a frown on his face and his own eyebrows were pinched.

"Steve?" Ponyboy tried his hardest to stay quiet, but still wanted Steve's attention. Steve glanced over, surprise briefly overtaking his features before it morphed to feigned annoyance.

Two-Bit sighed, turning over to lay on his back, a quiet groan as if he was feigning waking up.

Steve pushed off the doorframe, sighing quietly as he made his way over to the group. He sat down next to Ponyboy and Two-Bit, who had turned back onto his side.

"What happened?" Ponyboy asked quietly, Johnny hummed in agreement, leaning against Ponyboy's shoulder as he leaned forward to look at Steve.

"Dal's a queer." Steve responded. The way he said it had Ponyboy feeling cold. It felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over Ponyboy's head.

"What?" Out of anyone in the gang, he had not expected that Dally would be like Ponyboy. He'd have placed his bets on Two-Bit quicker than Dally. Not that there was any betting about this particular topic. Any thoughts of such a thing was illegal anyway.

Behind him, Johnny gasped quietly. But it sounded off to Ponyboy's ears. He didn't know why either. But Ponyboy forced the thoughts to leave his mind.

"How-wha-"

"Steve." The group flinched, looking up at the doorway finding Darry standing there. There was a hard look in his eyes. Ponyboy swallowed, feeling himself wanting to cower at how upset Darry looked.

How had they gone from celebrating Ponyboy's last track meet, his last win of the school year, to this?

"What did Steve do?" Sodapop appeared, head just above Darry's shoulder. He must have been on his tip toes. He also looked pretty confused when he saw that the group was just sitting together. Ponyboy felt like throwing up when Darry only sighed and shook his head.

"Dally is no longer a topic in the house, okay? Especially not about the disagreement that happened."

Ponyboy flinched. Two-Bit sat up in shock. Johnny made a wounded noise from behind Ponyboy. And Steve looked solemn. Sodapop looked sick.

"What?" Ponyboy pushed himself up, shaking off Two-Bit's hand when he tried to grab him and, as painful as it had been, side stepped Johnny when he also reached to grab Ponyboy. "Why the hell can't we talk about Dally? And that wasn't no disagreement. That was a fight."

"Ponyboy. Back down." Sodapop uttered from the kitchen doorway, but Ponyboy wasn't listening this time. He couldn't. If it really was because Dally was queer, than Ponyboy needed to say something.

His hands shook as he met his oldest brother's eyes. He was nearly 23 now. He looked so much older. He looked so much meaner, in the night time with only the kitchen illuminating him.

"Because. he could get you taken. We ain't havin' that. Not so close to you bein' eighteen." Ponyboy scoffed.

"That's not the only reason, is it?"

Darry's hands tensed as he crossed his arms. A habit that he'd started after a fight the two had when it was just them and Darry's hands and flung up… and Ponyboy had flinched in response.

"Just drop it. Pony." Darry sighed, a look of exhaustion crashing down on top of him momentarily before it was hidden again. Ponyboy had no clue what time of night it was, but it had to have been late.

"No. I'm not gonna drop it. Dal's our pal. He's our buddy. We don't just kick people out for no damn reason!"

"Dally's queer." Steve uttered, and Ponyboy turned and glared at him. He felt a little bad when Johnny flinched with wide eyes. It wasn't often that Ponyboy got vicious with anyone in the gang anymore.

"That's no reason."

"Don't talk like that!" Sodapop yelped, glancing towards the door as if a cop was going to bust in and arrest Ponyboy for the words he was saying.

"Why not?" Ponyboy huffed. "He's our buddy. We've hidden him from cops before! What's the difference? Him robbing a corner store with a heater, or him laying it out with a guy?" Ponyboy asked.

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis, you will not talk like that. You hear me?" Darry asked, his voice was low in tone, but hard. Ponyboy turned and glared at his brother.

"I will. Because it matters to me." Ponyboy uttered.

"Why the hell does it matter to you?"

"Because I'm gay!" Ponyboy finally yelled, his breathing heavy as his eyes darted around the room. "I'm a queer, Darry." He swallowed harshly, taking a step back as everyone started at him. He was shaking and he felt light headed and-

Johnny reached out towards him, hand reaching out and it looked like he wanted to say something but…

"What?" Darry sounded shocked, his voice quiet and low and… Ponyboy turned and bolted out of the house. He was running and he wasn't sure where he was going. The last time he'd taken off running into the night after a percieved fight with his brother…

A Soc nearly died and Johnny had gotten paralyzed.

But this time, Ponyboy wouldn't stop running until he knew what he was going to do. He failed last time because he stopped to think. He wouldn't make that mistake this time.

Ponyboy felt like he couldn't breathe. He was running as fast as he could, and after a day of running already, it felt pretty slow comparatively.

He thought that he would go to Dally, because Dally would understand. It was clear that Dally would understand if the fight from earlier in the night was anything to go by.

It probably wasn't the best idea to be drinking something with alcohol in it; not with Remy moving about the kitchen in that damn crop-top and a pair of low rise jeans—that Remy had found he liked late one night after a shopping spree with Jubilee—that were tucked into a pair of boots that were originally a gag gift from Morph.

Rogue had a hard enough time sticking to the rules that she had created to keep Remy safe from her mutation. She didn't need something lowering her inhibitions and causing an accident—or worse—a death.

But she also couldn't resist watching Remy as he cooked—it smelt like Courtbouillon—and he just absolutely loved making things for Rogue to try. And if she couldn't touch the man she wanted the most, she would absolutely let him cook for her. It made him happy which in turn made her happy.

She ate his cooking, and he ate her baking. A past time that she had recently picked up after Jean had managed to convince her to bake with her just before Christmas on the rare day off for the team.

"Mon chérie, yous been real quiet over there," Remy uttered, turning and smirking at her playfully before turning back to the pot that was beginning to simmer.

"Don't you worry 'bout me, sugah, I'm jus' enjoyin' the view from over here." Rogue responded, smirking a small bit as she leaned back in the chair, picking up her drink once more to take a sip as she let her eyes rake over the other. Remy laughed briefly, glancing over his shoulder before shaking his ass.

Rogue snorted, turning her head to hide the smile that forced itself onto her face. Remy was laughing as he reached over some left out ingredients and turned up the radio, his favorite song beginning to play through the kitchen.

Rogue was purposeful in letting one leg cross over the other, a clear sign that she was not going to be dancing today. Remy pouted at her when he turned around and found her leaned back with a smile on her face, amusement as clear as day.

"C'mon chérie, you don' wanna dance with Gambit?" Remy asked, moving towards her with the grace of someone well trained in stealth, and the beauty to match. His eyes were definitely suggestive as he smirked enticingly.

"Not tonight, dark eyes. I'm doin' jus' fine watchin' you havin' a good time, sugah." Rogue smiled, taking a slightly bigger drink as Remy pouted once more, fluttering his eyes before giving up… seemingly, at least. Rogue knew that he would definitely be trying again later.

Instead, he started dancing around the kitchen on his own, occasionally getting Rogue to laugh whenever he spun a bit too fast and stumbled or he took a bit to stopped and shake his ass and shake his shoulders in a "shimmy". All the while still keeping an eye on what he was cooking.

Sometimes, Rogue wondered how he could do that. He could have his back turned and just know something was about to go wrong, or when something was perfect and could be taken off the stove.

And twice, he'd refilled her drink if she'd gotten too low or had emptied her drink. Nothing with too much alcohol after that first drink, something that Rogue was appreciative of. Always accepting with a shy smile, and a flutter of her eyes that had a slight flush rising on his cheeks.

"That smells real good, sugah." Rogue smirked, and she just knew that Remy was smiling to himself when he returned to just simply cooking. Though he did take a detour to make himself a drink and gather a few bowls and plates.

"Bons, bons," Gambit responded, humming as he reached over and turned the radio down. Rogue was almost safe about that, it had been pleasant to listen alongside everything that the other was doing. "Gambit will have this done soon, chérie."

Rogue hummed, relaxing as she let her eyes fall shut to just enjoy the moment with her thief.

……… ……… ………

"Whatcha' doing there, chérie?" Remy asked, smiling as Rogue started pulling out ingredients like she was going to be baking. His hands were dropped into the soapy water, which was much hotter than he normally handled; but the pans he had used needed a hotter temperature to get them properly cleaned.

"I'm cravin' something sweet tonight, sugah, so I was thinkin'… Cinnamon Snickers." Rogue responded, smiling sweetly as she grabbed the bowls she used for baking. The kitchen they were in was one that they primarily used, the mansion having two or three kitchens at the very least.

Jean and Scott were more than okay just giving one of the kitchens and marking it as Remy's kitchen on any 'map' of the mansion. In his opinion, it was the better kitchen. Had the better spices and equipment because of all of the time he'd put into it.

And of course, Rogue had free reign of the kitchen too, having sat with him while he put together the perfect, in his opinion, kitchen. So she knew how to use everything and how he liked to keep it. He'd surprised her by getting all of the best baking equipment and bowls all for her use whenever she wanted.

And she did so a lot; there was a new baked good just about every week. Always something new and always something that was unique.

"That sounds good, chérie." Remy responded, eyes watching her move about the space she needed. He didn't have dishes on the counter, so she was just wiping down the counter, having put a gloved hand on his arm to still him so she could slip a new washcloth into the water to wipe down the counter.

His breath might have been a tad bit shaky from having her press against his side for those few moments. His eyes had widened and his face had flushed slightly before it cleared nearly just as quick as it had turned red.

"You are a tricky woman, Rogue." Gambit uttered quietly, watching as Rogue looked over her shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Gambit didn't believe that it was at all an innocent sort of smile; she was one that Gambit never knew when she was going to be nice or cruel. The nice sort of cruel, of course.

"Now, I need those dishes cleared so I can bake, swamp rat." Rogue pointed over her shoulder at the dishes on the table still, ones that Gambit hadn't gotten to yet. There weren't many, and Rogue could fully bake with all the space she needed or wanted, even with the dishes in the way.

"Yes ma'am." Remy winked, but he didn't go to collect the dishes. Instead he turned to the radio and turned it up once more, beginning to dance again instead while Rogue began to combine her ingredients together, giggling lightly as she occasionally looked over at him.

Remy saw his chance after Rogue had put her cookies in the oven, taking a step up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into a spin chuckling quietly at Rogue's indignant groan.

"Remy, you can't just pull me around," Rogue chuckled, though she didn't make any move to dislodge him from her back. Instead, she leaned back against him, letting her hands rest on his forearms. She sighed, letting herself fall back against him, but Remy disliked just how tense she felt.

Remy knew the rules—oh he knew them all too well—but he couldn't help but to press his lips against her shoulder, wishing against everything that it was her temple. He wanted nothing more than to give her the closeness and connection that she so desperately craved.

"Remy-" Rogue pulled back, and Gambit knew that she was going to be upset.

"Non chérie, pas ça-" Remy paused, meeting Rogue's eyes that were filled with a worry and deep seated fear that she would harm him—even if it was simply an accident. "Jus' let yourself have this, mon amour. Jus' for tonight."

Rogue's eyes softened, a sigh escaping her as she leaned forward, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

"Jus' for tonight, swamp rat." Rogue's voice was quiet, and Remy felt like celebrating when he felt her truly relax against him. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he spun them in a small circle in the middle of the kitchen. The remnants of the meal they had eaten were empty dishes and leftover food put safely away in the fridge for another day—or a midnight snack.

"Tonigh' is all Gambit need, chérie." Remy laughed briefly. He laughed even more when Rogue pinched his side in warning. He settled down as the music changed and Rogue's favorite song happened to come onto the radio. Remy pressed a kiss to her hair—even more risky than kissing her shoulder—before moving and spinning her out briefly, eliciting a laugh of surprise and joy from Rogue, and then pulling her back in.

Rogue swayed with him, taking the chance to turn and bump her hips against his, laughing as he stumbled a little. He took the chance to wrap his arms around her once more, swaying side to side in a way that had a beat to it.

Rogue smiled brightly at him, hands sliding up his sides before dropping back down to his waist and controlling how he counted the beats. In a way, she was shaking his ask for him, though he was easily going with her movements as they turned in small circles around the kitchen. Rogue was smiling, eyes bright as Remy took a step forward, disrupting the circles they were doing and spinning her a little faster.

If anyone were to peek in to the kitchen, it would look like they were crazy. Or at least on the edge of being crazy. Dancing in the kitchen in nearly the middle of the night now, a few drinks showing that they were obviously inebriated to some degree, and the obvious signs that Remy was supposed to be doing dishes.

There was also the smell of cookies baking in the oven; a sign that at some point Rogue had started to bake.

Rogue forced them to calm down when she felt a gentle presence in her mind, a curious and slightly chiding feeling that had her giggling, even as she apologized to Jean who only left while feeling only amusement.

"Aweh, ruinin' our fun they are." Gambit murmured, gazing at Rogue with enough love in his eyes that it had Rogue feeling flushed. He was the only man to truly look at her like that; it left her feeling giddy and terrified all at the same time.

"It's gettin' late. Once these cookies are done, I'm gonna go to bed." Gambit gave her a look and Rogue smacked his arm. "Alone." Gambit made a playful face of despair before he was smiling at her.

"Well, mon amour, if this is the last time Gambit see you on this marvelous day, he's at least going to treat you properly." Gambit backed up, leaning down in a prince-like bow, and kissed the back of Rogue's gloved hand. His eyes were looking up at her and he was treated to the sight of Rogue flushing lightly.

He gasped lightly as she pulled him back up, placing a hand over Gambit's mouth and pressing a kiss right over where he'd kissed her hand.

"I think I need to go to bed early tonight, thief, so why don't you finish up in here… and maybe come see me after you've gotten in pajamas…" Rogue winked, not letting Gambit respond before turning and leaving the room.

Ponyboy took a moment to stop and listen. There was faint music playing in the living room. Once he toed his shoes off and hung up his jacket by the door, he'd made his way towards the aforementioned room in curiosity.

Johnny hadn't responded yet, which was fine. Some days, Johnny didn't like raising his voice loud enough for Ponyboy to hear him, no matter what room Johnny was in, or even if his partner was right at the door.

Ponyboy reached the living room in three strides, taking a moment to pause and smile. Johnny was sitting on the couch, his legs laid out comfortably in front of him with a blanket laid out overtop of them and a sketchpad laid over his lap. The radio was set up just beside Johnny, and Ponyboy could also understand if Johnny just hadn't heard him.

Ponyboy lightly kicked the frame of the doorway, catching Johnny's attention. Johnny looked up, a smile appearing on his face.

"Pony, you're home early!" He looked happy. Calm and happy. Ponyboy couldn't help but to smile as he pushed off the doorway and made his way towards his partner. Johnny was happy to accept the partial hug over the back of the couch and a kiss to the cheek before Ponyboy responded.

"I got done grading papers early, figured we could make dinner together and have a good, nice, relaxing night in for once." Ponyboy told him. Johnny's eyes lit up, something that Ponyboy had been noticing a little more every time that he and Johnny did something domestic together.

It made his heart squeeze in hurt as much as it swelled him with love.

"That sounds nice," Johnny smiled. "Will you help me if I can't move on my own?" He asked, glancing towards his sketchbook and moving to close it gently. It was the one thing that Johnny treated like porcelain, with how much he cherished it.

"Of course," Ponyboy responded, leaning down a bit and pressing a kiss to Johnny's hairline. Ponyboy smirked as Johnny flushed, making his dark skin just the slightest bit darker.

Ponyboy got up, moving towards the kitchen so that he could find their cookbook, something that he'd found in the attic when he was moving out of his childhood home; his mother's recipe book. He'd wanted to give it to Sodapop or Darry, but both of his brothers had insisted that he take it. Claiming something about him making more use out of it then they would.

Ponyboy was more than happy to use it. A lot of the recipes were in fact getting good use inside his and Johnny's home.

"Pone, I need help!" Johnny called, his voice sounded a little strained. Ponyboy grabbed a bottle of water to place on their kitchen table before walking towards the living room. He'd missed seeing Johnny's wheelchair the first time, but Johnny had pulled it from where it would have had to been placed next to the couch.

Ponyboy's eyes darted over the situation, checking quickly to make sure that Johnny hadn't fallen and Ponyboy had somehow missed it. He hadn't, thankfully. Johnny was glaring at the wheelchair like it had wronged him, his legs bent up onto the couch so that he could move, or from his attempt at moving.

"Help me, please?" Johnny asked, and Ponyboy nodded with a smile.

"Always." He moved to the other side of the couch, bending down and scooping Johnny up and quickly transferring him over to his wheelchair. Johnny didn't like it when Ponyboy carried him places, preferring to use his wheelchair. Ponyboy was fine with that.

It helped let him know when Johnny genuinely wanted, or even needed, help.

"Alright, what are we feeling for tonight?" Ponyboy asked, once Johnny was seated comfortably, passing Johnny his blanket which he then draped over his lap. He waited until Johnny had unlocked the wheels. Ponyboy followed him into the kitchen.

"Could we make lasagna?" Ponyboy hummed, moving to the cookbook to flip through it as Johnny stopped at the kitchen table. "Or, wait, no…" Ponyboy looked up, catching Johnny flush slightly before continuing. "Could we make a Pasta?"

"Do you want to choose which one?" Ponyboy offered, turning a bit more to face Johnny a little better.

"Could I?" Johnny asked. Ponyboy moved to bring the cookbook to Johnny, offering it with a smile. Johnny happily took it from him, and Ponyboy pushed up and sat on the table, giving a grin to Johnny when the other playfully glared at him.

He watched Johnny, a smile on his face, as he skimmed through the pasta recipes. There was no doubt that Johnny would call him out on his staring soon, but he was allowing it for now.

He liked admiring his partner.

"This one?" Johnny asked, passing the cookbook back to Ponyboy, who hummed and he took it back and turned it so he could read it which one Johhny had chosen. He read over the recipe, and nodded with acceptance.

"We definitely can," Ponyboy pushed himself off the table, humming as he moved to set the cookbook up on the counter at the very least. "Do you want to help, or just talk about your day?" Ponyboy asked, eyes darting to where he knew the ingredients were all stored away.

"Could I sit nearby?" Johnny asked, and Ponyboy nodded. "Can…" Johnny cut himself off. Ponyboy, who had been searching around for the pasta noodles that he knew for certain they had, stopped and turned towards Johnny who looked unsure. Ponyboy watched, momentarily, as Johnny looked towards the counter with a tilt of his head in interest. "Can I sit on the counter while you cook?" Johnny asked, and Ponyboy smiled reassuringly.

"Of course, want me to transfer you? Or how do you want to get there?" Ponyboy responded, his mind jumping to grab the radio from the living room so that Johnny could control what they listened too. Johnny hummed, tilting his head to the side just slightly.

"Will you move me? Carrying allowed," Johnny said. Ponyboy turned fully, moving towards Johnny who had wheeled backwards a little. Ponyboy waited until Johnny nodded and had reached over a little. He lifted Johnny and moved towards the counter, setting Johnny down.

He waited until Johnny had adjusted and settled before moving to grab the radio from the living room and to move Johnny's wheelchair to the corner of the room that they had designated for it when they first moved in.

"More time?" Sodapop, her middle child, asked with wide eyes. He had a few of his horse plushies in front of him. Cheryl shook her head as her youngest pushed himself up and toddled towards her, eyes wide with excitement and happiness. Sodapop pouted, holding his current stuffed animal as close to his chest as he could, wrapping his arm around it as if she was going to take it away from him. "Please mama?"

"It's already nine, baby, aren't you tired?" She genuinely had to wonder. There were nights when her six year old was out by seven, and other nights when he was up until midnight, too hyper to be laid down. She always tried her best.

"No," Sodapop shook his head, though Cheryl could see that he was lying. His eyes were a little droopy, he was only half way turned towards her with one hand on the ground and one around his stuffed animal, and he was sucking on his lip a little. Little tells that Sodapop didn't know existed yet. Cheryl smiled, bending down to pick up her three year old, who nuzzled into her shoulder happily.

"Come on now you two, we can always play more tomorrow." She watched her eleven year old pout, though he did start moving to clean up; he'd been painting while her and Sodapop conversed, trying to finish whatever it was he was working on. Sodapop let his lip wobble a little, and Cheryl only smiled a little warmer.

"Come on Pepsi-Cola, papa promised we could see real horses if we were good this week." Darry uttered when he noticed Sodapop had yet to move to pick up for bed. Sodapop turned his pout onto his brother, who immediately looked away. Cheryl laughed lightly as Ponyboy also mimed hiding his face against her shoulder completely.

Sodapop sighed, though he did begin listening to his older brother, turning and beginning to gather his stuffed horses up into his arms. He even grabbed Ponyboy's stuffed rabbit that had a horseshoe stitched into the stomach up to hand to his younger brother when he was walking by. Cheryl decided not to tell him about the trail of horses behind him as he did so.

Darry seemed to agree, as he snickered quietly to himself. It would at least wear Sodapop out a little, having to come running back and forth to carry all of them.

……… ……… ………

"If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs," Cheryl sang as she rocked her youngest in her arms. "The bark on the tree was as soft as the sky." She was pacing the room, gently rocking her and Ponyboy side to side. Her baby was barely keeping his eyes open, but he was mouthing along to the song. "As the wolf waits below, so hungry and lonely, he cries to the moon, if only, if only."

"If only, if only, the moon speaks no reply; reflecting the sun and all that's gone by." Cheryl looked up sharply, nothing that Ponyboy was just a second behind her as Darrel sung from the doorway. Her husband, Darrey Sr., was smiling. His arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorway, still in his work clothes. "Be strong my weary wolf; turn around boldly. Fly high, my baby bird, my angel my only."

"Papa," Ponyboy giggled, one arm reaching out for his father as Cheryl walked towards him. Ponyboy was at least tired enough that she knew that he would be out soon enough. There was no way for Darrel Sr. to rile up their youngest, not like their middle child at least. Not in any way that counted.

"Ja nu vienīgi, dzenis nopūšas, Koka miza bija mīksta kā debesis." He started to sing quietly as he took their youngest, pressing a kiss to Cheryls forehead as he began to pace the room. It was Cheryl's turn to watch as her husband put their youngest to sleep. "Kamēr vilks gaida lejā, izsalcis un vientuļš, Viņš raud uz mēnesi: Ja tikai, ja tikai."

Ponyboy was nearly out, and he had a big smile on his face as his weakly made a fist in his father's shirt, clinging to him as his eyes fluttered close. "Ja nu vienīgi, tad mēness nerunā nekādu atbildi; Atspoguļojot sauli un visu, kas pagājis." Darrel hummed as he rubbed Ponyboy's back, and Cheryl sighed as she turned at the excited gasp that Sodapop let out upon hearing their father.

"Esi stiprs, mans nogurušais vilks; drosmīgi apgriezies." Cheryl silently stopped Sodapop from making too much noise; unlike their father, Sodapop had a knack for waking Ponyboy up and riling him up. Too many missed naps led to that conclusion. "Lidojiet augstu, mans putnu mazulis, mans eņģelis, mans vienīgais." Cheryl picked Sodapop up and set him on her hip as they faced the room again to find Darrel gently tucking Ponyboy in bed.

"Someone is definitely excited your home," Cheryl commented quietly after her husband pressed a kiss to Ponyboy's forehead. Darrel looked up, a smile breaking out onto his face.

"Hey little buddy, whatcha' doin' up?" He asked, making sure that Ponyboy was for sure asleep before walking towards the two of them, happily picking Sodapop up from Cheryl's arms as they retreated from the doorway. They left Ponyboy's door ajar, a nightlight both in his room and in the hallway turned on as they walked back towards Sodapop's room.

He must not have been as asleep as Cheryl had thought.

"Not tired," Sodapop shrugged, his hands tightening on his father's shirt when they'd made it to Sodapop's room.

He took a deep breath, letting his hands hang limply at his sides as he resisted the urge to turn around to look for his older brother. He’d been told he wasn’t supposed to do that, he was 13 now.

Their mayor was standing up on the stage of the district building, a grim smile on his face. Ponyboy wondered if he was trying to reassure himself or the children standing in front of him, and one of the peacekeepers made some motion.

“Thank you everyone for coming,” Ponyboy fought off a scowl as their mayor stepped up to start talking. It wasn’t like he, like anyone, had a choice in being here. Ponyboy tilted his head to stare at the ground, he needed to to keep his face from scowling at their mayor.

He ignored most of what their mayor said, it wasn’t like it was any important to Ponyboy. It was just the history of how the hunger games had come to be, and why it was important that it happened every year.

How it was a reminder for everyone that the Capital was in control.

At least, that last thought was what Two-Bit had said. The games were just so that the districts knew that the capital had all the control. He’d been drunk that night, and Darry had sent Ponyboy to bed soon after that, not that Ponyboy actually got any sleep that night. Two-Bit had scared him that night, with his words and with how drunk he was. It was soon after Two-Bit’s games, and he hadn’t been coping well… or at least, that’s what Sodapop had said.

“And now, without further adieu, ladies first.” Ponyboy looked up, watching with sharp eyes as their Mayor turned, walking towards the left side of the stage where a glass bowl sat, filled with tiny slips of paper with all the names of the girls, aged twelve to eighteen.

Ponyboy’s hands felt cold, and no matter how many times he rubbed his thumb over his skin, they didn’t warm up. He clasped his hands behind his back, maybe they would warm up. He wished he could be next to Sodapop, his brother always knew how to warm Ponyboy’s hands up. It would also help ease some of the anxiety running through him, having his brother next to him.

Their mayor picked up a slip of paper from somewhere in the center of the bowl, not wasting any time. He walked back towards the microphone, unfolding the slip of paper without any preamble. Ponyboy watched his face fall and he wondered, briefly, if the mayor was close with her.

“Amelia Johnson.” Ponyboy didn’t know who that was, but a girl started to move as another girl started crying.

A girl with dark skin, that reminded Ponyboy of Johnny, and dark brown hair braided down her back was walking up towards the stage. She must have been fifteen or so. Ponyboy wondered who she was to the mayor, who already looked like he was mourning her. She was thin, maybe from the poorer side of the district, and she was small.

The mayor had shaken her hand when she reached him at the microphone, and there was a look of resignation on the girl's face. The girls were silent as ‘Amelia’ stared out at the crowd. Ponyboy was close enough that he could see that her eyes were a dark green.

“And now, for the boys.” Ponyboy’s heart was beating harshly in his chest, hard enough that it nearly actually hurt. His hands were still cold, and rubbing them together behind his back wasn’t helping any.

Their mayor grabbed a slip from the center of the bowl before moving back to the microphone.

“Ponyboy Curtis.” Ponyboy’s heart stopped.

Around him, he could hear people talking, and it took someone touching his arm for him to realize that his name had been repeated. He turned, noticing that the crowd had parted a little, and he was beginning to walk towards the aisle to walk up towards the stage.

He removed his hands from behind his back as he started down the aisle, his heart was racing in his chest again.

“I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!” Ponyboy spun around at the sound of his brother’s voice, eyes widening as Sodapop ran out into the aisle, eyes wide with fear and shaking hands thrown out at his sides.

“No… No Soda, no…” Ponyboy was shaking his head, and everyone around them was talking. Murmurs passed around as their mayor exclaimed in shock something that he didn’t hear. He was too focused on his brother, who was running down the aisle towards him.

“Pony, go to Darry,” Sodapop told him, when he was close enough.

“No… NO!” Ponyboy had moved and had wrapped his arms around his brother, but his brother wasn’t letting him and someone was grabbing his arms and pulling him away. “No!” Ponyboy shouted, his legs kicking out as his brother turned and continued towards the stage. His stride was strong, but Ponyboy could see that his brother’s hands were shaking.

Sodapop didn’t know what he was doing.

“No! NO! Let me go!” Ponyboy kicked out again, and arms tightened around him. 

“No!” Ponyboy’s eyes widened, turning and wrapping his arms around Darry and pressing tighter against his brother. “I don’t wan’ ta go to school today.” Ponyboy huffed as Darry tried to separate the two of them. Realistically, he knew it was so that Darry could bend down to his height, he’s done it plenty of times before, but Ponyboy didn’t want to separate.

“Come on, Pony, you gotta go to school.” Ponyboy shook his head quickly, holding tighter to Darry’s leg.

“Darry? What’s going on?” Sodapop asked, and Ponyboy peaked towards the side and found that Sodapop had seemingly come back from running off. He scowled to himself when he saw Steve was with Sodapop. Steve is Sodapop’s best friend, and Ponyboy doesn’t like him… he’s pretty sure that Steve doesn’t like him either.

“Ponyboy doesn’t wanna let go,” Darry told him, and Ponyboy decided to close his eyes really tightly and ignore them. He didn’t want to let go, he didn’t want to go to school. Ponyboy was sure that they couldn’t make him.

“Pony?” Ponyboy hid his face against Darry, refusing to look towards his other brother. “Pony, why won’t you look at me?” Ponyboy shook his head.

“What’s wrong with ‘im now?” Steve sighed, there was the sound of Steve getting smacked on the arm, and Ponyboy grinned to himself. “Sorry.” He wasn’t.

“Ponyboy, come on,” Ponyboy’s wings spasmed when Sodapop tried to pull him off of Darry, a whine escaping him as he tried to hold on as tight as he could. His efforts were proved fruitless as Sodapop and him fell back and Ponyboy started crying.

“Wha-No, no Ponyboy, don’t cry, please don’t cry!” Sodapop sounded freaked out. Ponyboy had a habit of fake crying when he didn’t want to do something… but Ponyboy found that he was genuinely crying. He couldn’t stop, no matter how much he wanted to. “Ponyboy, don’t cry, please?”

“Isn’t he faking?” Steve asked.

“I don’t think he is.” Darry spoke up, Ponyboy rubbed at his eyes, barely managing to figure out that Darry was crouching down beside him and Sodapop. “Come here, okay, okay, come here,” Ponyboy happily collided into Darry’s chest, his wings attempting to wrap around himself but not getting far past his own arms. Ponyboy continued to cry, even when Darry picked him up.

“Darry! Come on we gotta go-Pony?” Ponyboy held tighter to Darry as Darry’s wings wrapped around him. Their Dad had come to get Darry to take him to school, but Ponyboy didn’t want Darry to go to school. He didn’t even want to leave their house that morning, and it was only the promise that Darry would walk him to his classroom that had gotten him in the car. “Pony, baby, what happened?”

“I-I don’ wan’ ta go to school.” Ponyboy cried, hiding his face further against Darry. He could hear people talking around them, and his tail flicked aggressively before wrapping around his own leg as Darry helped him settle a little more comfortably.

“Why not bud?” Ponyboy shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to hear everyone around them. They would talk, he would be teased even more now, he knew that, but he just didn’t want to deal with it today. “Pony? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Ponyboy held tighter to Darry before pulling back a little, he was still crying though it was less than before. “Everyone’s so mean, papa. I don’t like it and they don’t like me.” He blinked at their dad, or he had tried to. Darry’s wings were wrapped just right around Ponyboy so that he couldn’t really see much around them. It meant that he was practically invisible, hidden by his big brother’s wings.

Ponyboy rested his head on Darry’s shoulders as he started to calm down.

“Oh, Pony,” Darry sighed, and Ponyboy pouted at his big brother… or he had tried to. He didn’t have the energy to move his head to actually do so.

“Pony’s being bullied?” Sodapop asked, and it sounded like he was just on the other side of Darry’s wings. Darry’s wings, which were white that faded to black on each feather, and there were golden highlights that were bright against the black.

“Oh, Pony,” Their dad sounded conflicted before sighing. “Is there someone you want to stay with today?” Ponyboy wrapped his arms tighter around Darry, who’s arms tightened in response.

“He’s clinging pretty tight to Darry, papa.” Sodapop was the one that spoke for him. Ponyboy was more than happy with that.

“Darry? You okay with missing a day of school?” Ponyboy knew that their dad only asked because Sodapop loved school… or no. He didn’t love school, he loved the people at school. Sodapop was a social person and he loved talking with people. He couldn’t do that if he was at home.

“Yeah, I’m okay with that. Maybe I can find out what else is wrong too… Do you think mama will be mad?” Darry sounded worried, but Ponyboy didn’t care. He didn’t have to go to school today! He didn’t have to hear the whispers or the taunts or the words that always left Ponyboy upset!

Ponyboy didn’t even realize he was making a sound in the back of his throat until Darry responded in kind. He could hear Sodapop laughing, though it sounded farther away. He had no doubt that Sodapop, who was assured that Ponyboy was okay, had taken off with Steve and they were on their way to their class.

She was constantly stuck in thought, deep thought, that had her wondering about herself, about her appearance, about the people around her, and about a damn greaser that went by the name Two-Bit. She had tried to pretend nothing was wrong whenever Cherry had asked her if she was okay.

She knew that Cherry didn’t believe her whenever she said she was fine.

She sighed, putting her brush down and turning to grab a blanket before moving to go downstairs to sit by the phone. Her homework was in her bag downstairs, and she had every intent of finishing it while she waited.

He wasn’t going to call, but she would wait anyway.

“Marcia? Sherri’s here to see you.” Marcia blinked, looking up and around her in slight confusion. It took her a second to realize that she’d fallen asleep, and she sighed as she stretched, looking over at her mother who was watching her, vague amusement and concern on her face.

“Cherry’s here?” Marcia asked in confusion, blinking as she pushed herself up, quickly catching the book they were reading for English and bookmarking it to set aside. Her blanket fell to the floor in a heap and she promised herself to pick it up later. She had to see why Cherry was here first.

Marcia wasn’t surprised to find Cherry in the kitchen, nor was she entirely phased by the shopping bag that was on the counter beside her. When they were younger, and Marcia had been allowed to start baking with only slight supervision, they were often found in the kitchen baking away their feelings that they had decided were too overwhelming for them. It had become their thing whenever they had ‘big emotion’ conversations that they had been ignoring.

“I was thinking cookies,” is how Cherry greeted her as Marcia walked into the kitchen. Marcia blinked before nodding, noting that Cherry was dressed in her pajamas and on one of the kitchen table chairs was her school bag, so Marcia could guess that Cherry was staying the night.

“What kind? Did you bring a recipe?” Marcia asked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe, a smile appearing onto her face. She had a box of recipes and she knew that only she held the recipe card for Cherry’s favorite cookies.

“Could we make those peanut butter ones?” Cherry asked, “I think I remembered most of its ingredients this time!” Cherry was staring at her hopefully, hands grasped in front of her as she sort of twisted in place. Marcia laughed lightly and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll go grab that recipe, and then we can bake.” Cherry squealed excitedly as Marcia pushed off the doorframe. Marcia made sure to stop in the living room to put away her homework, which her and Cherry would probably do later when the cookies were refrigerating, and to put her blanket back in her room.

“So…” Marcia tilted her head as she started rolling out their cookie dough. Cherry was sitting at the kitchen table behind her, still idly working on her English essay that was due the next day. Marcia’s was done and already packed away, her math and science homework being the last two things she needed to get done, but she also really wanted to roll out cookies because she was beginning to get a craving for them. “What’s been bothering you lately?”

Marcia sighed, setting aside the rolling pin as she reached for the star cookie cutter. She wanted the maximum amount of stars for this roll out before it was Cherry’s turn, and she would no doubt choose the heart.

“Nothing’s-”

“Marcia.” Marcia’s mouth clicked shut. “Don’t lie to me. It’s just us.” Marcia had gotten three stars onto her cookie pan.

“Two-Bit hasn’t called.” Marcia sighed, taking a moment to fiddle with her cookie cutter as she placed a fourth star onto her cookie sheet. “I know it was a long shot, but I thought he liked me, you know? Thought that maybe… maybe that there could have been a chance.” There was a moment where Marcia thought that she shouldn’t have told Cherry, before there was a sigh.

“Sometimes I think about that night too,” Cherry uttered. This was new to Marcia, who thought that Cherry had always tried to forget that night at the drive in never happened. That was a defining difference between the two of them; it made people wonder how the two of them had been such good friends for so long.

Cherry was always looking forward, looking ahead with this master plan of leaving Tulsa one day. Making a name for herself, either in the rodeo or in whatever job field she chose. She wanted to change people’s minds on women.

And Marcia was always stuck on the past. Reliving memories to see what could have changed, or maybe if there had been signs of someone’s true character. She often spent so long in the past it left her scrambling to catch up to everyone else.

It was why her and Cherry got along so well, they balanced each other out. At least, that’s what Marcia’s mother had always said; Marcia would start thinking too much of the past, and Cherry would remind her to look ahead. Cherry would look too far ahead and Marcia would pull her back to the present.

“What do you think about?” Marcia asked.

“About Dallas. About Bob. About that poor boy, Johnny. About Ponyboy sometimes.” Cherry sighed. “Ponyboy’s struggling in school, and it’s like their group closed up tight after… after everything.” Cherry’s voice sounded thick, like she was holding back tears.

Marcia didn’t blame her.

It didn’t make sense to Marcia, for Cherry to think about that night ever. The drive in. Dallas Winston hitting on her. A near miss of a fight between Two-Bit and Pony, and Randy and Bob… Waking up the next morning to Bob… To Bob being dead.

Marcia glanced down at her stars, she hadn’t even noticed that she was nearly out of dough, having been using the cookie cutter as she tried to think of why Cherry would have been thinking of that night so much.

“I think about Two-Bit. And-and how the guys jumped him… and how I just watched.” Marcia uttered, and there was a sharp breath from Cherry. “He was probably right to not call…”

“Marcie, no,” Cherry sounded heartbroken, but Marica shrugged as if she was shrugging Cherry off. “Do you want a hug? Do… Do you need a hug right now?” Cherry asked. “I could use a hug right now, and I think it would be beneficial for you too.”

She set her cookie cutter down, turning and opening her arms towards Cherry, and it took Marcia a moment to realize she was crying. Cherry was quick to jump up and the two girls hugged tightly, ignoring the oven not even preheated yet and the dough that was soon going to get too warm and they would have to refrigerate it again.

Marcia hadn’t realized how much she had needed a hug until now.

“Darry?”

“No…” Darry shook his head, stepping back into the hallway and going back to just peeking around the doorway. Cheryl hummed, feeling a little sad as Ponyboy made another noise. She knew that Darry didn’t want another little sibling, but she had hoped he’d come around to the idea after Ponyboy was born.

“Okay,” Cheryl nodded, she knew better than to push her son, he’d meet Ponyboy whenever he decided too, and there was nothing that was going to alter that. She’d tried when Sodapop was born, so she knew it was a fruitless fight. She moved herself to sit on the couch, she was still hurting a little and definitely needed the rest.

“Mama! Mama!” Cheryl looked over, smiling sweetly as her youngest reached for her.

“Hi baby,” She reached for Sodapop, and while Darrel hesitated to pass her Sodapop, he did end up doing so. She smiled as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, moving Ponyboy’s carrier to rest on the coffee table as Sodapop climbed onto her lap.

“Come on Darry, want to help me make lunch for us all?” Darrel asked, voice loud and bright and Darry nodded as he moved to follow Darrel, squealing as he was instead picked up. Cheryl laughed as she wrapped her arms around Sodapop and settled him down so that she was partially cradling him.

“You want to meet your baby brother, Soda?” Cheryl asked, and Sodapop made a noise of excitement as he nodded his head quickly. “Okay, okay,” Cheryl laughed, running one hand through Sodapop’s hair as he settled down from a burst of energy. “This, Soda, is Ponyboy,” Cheryl reached and pulled the carrier to her, picking it up and setting it on the couch beside her.

Sodapop peered over her arm, which was blocking him from getting too close, and stared down at the tiny baby. There was a moment where Cheryl worried that Sodapop would not react well, but then he cooed, reaching one hand to rest over Ponyboy’s swaddled form.

“Hi Ponyboy, ’m Sodapop,” Sodapop’s voice was hushed as Ponyboy’s eyes landed on him. Cheryl waited a moment before Ponyboy made a noise that sounded generally happy, and then he started squirming and beginning to look frustrated.

Cheryl had Sodapop sit back on her lap before using one arm to reach forward to help free Ponyboy’s arms. Ponyboy made another sound that sounded vaguely happy, before making a cooing noise and clenching his hands slightly. It was like Ponyboy didn’t even realize he was doing it, but he seemed happy, so Cheryl was content to let him as Sodapop moved forward and rested a hand on Ponyboy’s torso… Ponyboy was so small that one hand from Sodapop nearly engulfed Ponyboy’s entire torso.

“Small,” Sodapop turned, looking at Cheryl with a look that resembled something skin to concern. “Small,” He looked back at Ponyboy, who had grabbed his hand and was holding it pretty tight for a baby so small. There was a noise of surprise as Sodapop seemed to also realize that. “Hi baby,” Sodapop giggled, leaning close enough to rest his cheek on his arm as he scrunched his fingers as if to tickle Ponyboy but stopping just before actually doing so and then repeating the action.

“Yeah, he’s really small. He has to grow still, just like you,” Cheryl smiled, letting Sodapop continue with what he was doing as she listened to Darry and Darrel in the kitchen. There was a lot of laughter and giggling alongside talking that was just quiet enough for Cheryl to not know what they were saying.

She wasn’t sure what, but something settled inside of her as she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of her family.

Cheryl yawned as she heard the crying of her baby. She pushed herself up and slipped her feet into her slippers as she grabbed her robe and pulled it on.

“Hmmm, Cher?”

“Go back to sleep, Darrel.” Cheryl uttered as she got to the door of their room. “It’s just Ponyboy, he’s just hungry.” Darrel groaned, and Cheryl smiled as she paused to stare at him. He’d nuzzled into his pillow and had dropped off nearly immediately.

Cheryl got moving and moved to Ponyboy’s room, quietly telling Sodapop to go back to bed when she spotted him peeking out from his room. He hated his door being shut at night and would cry if they shut it on him.

She didn’t check to see if he listened, instead opening Ponyboy’s door and then stopping. Darry was sitting next to the crib with a hand reached in, gently petting Ponyboy’s head.

“I’ve got you,” Darry was uttering quietly. In fact that was all Darry was saying, just repeating that same phrase over and over again as he pet Ponyboy’s head through the bars of the crib. Cheryl smiled to herself, biting her lip as she backed out of the room and made her way to the kitchen. Ponyboy was quieting down, so she figured she could make a bottle before letting Darry know he’d been caught.

But Darry could almost feel the annoyance that Paul felt, could hear it in the sigh that Paul would let out before it was covered up with a smile as he greeted whichever brother, or both of them, had clung so tightly to Darry’s side. Darry always felt so embarrassed whenever he needed to bring his brother’s with… even if Paul assured him that it was okay, and that he didn’t mind.

Darry needed their late night meet ups just so he didn’t drive himself insane with the guilt. Paul was more than happy to meet with him, to drive out of town as far as they were willing to go at midnight and park where no one could see them.

“Darrel, Darry,” Darry glanced over at Paul, a tinge of worry and fear rushing through him until he saw the look in Paul’s eyes. Kindness shown through alongside the worry that always seemed to be in Paul’s eyes whenever he managed to actually get Darry alone after several hangouts where his brothers forced themselves with. “You know that I don’t mind your brothers coming with, right?” Darry looked away quickly, and Paul sighed.

“But our hangouts are for us, not-” Darry’s voice died in his throat as suddenly Paul swung himself over the center, resting himself on Darry’s lap in a way that was not comfortable being done in a car. Darry’s head tilted up so that he could see Paul’s eyes, even if he wished he could look anywhere but at Paul’s eyes. Darry didn’t exactly have the choice of looking anywhere else now. His hands rested nervously on Paul’s thighs.

“Darrel.” Paul’s voice was smooth, smoother than Darry’s was. Which Darry found so unfair that Paul had no voice cracks since they’d started puberty. It felt like Darry had one every other sentence some days and every hour on the easy days where he ‘barely had any’. “You’re brother’s love you, they want to spend time with you.” Paul uttered. Darry was frozen in place, eyes tracing Paul’s to imprint it in his memory.

“I see them all the time, they don’t need to be barging in on our time.” Darry uttered quietly, it was dark enough outside that he had no fear or care about Paul’s position. They were far enough away from any lights that would shine in enough to let passerby see them… or anyone to see them, Paul had driven them pretty far out of town. “This is our time, and it took me sneaking out a window to even get here alone, with you.”

“I don’t think you get it…” Paul sighed, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to Darry’s lips. Darry kissed back as quick as he could, knowing that Paul wasn’t going to let this conversation drop anytime soon. He needed the tiny bit of affection he could get right now. “Your family is… is so warm, so… unlike anything I’ve experienced, and it’s because of how close you all are… from how you all love each other…” Paul huffed a breath that fanned over Darry’s face.

“I love spending time with your brothers, because Darry, it’s amusing to me that they don’t realize how they cling to you. They want to sit next to you, they want to copy you, they want to match with you, because in their eyes, anything you do is so fucking cool to them.” Paul continued, using his free hand to run through Darry’s hair; which was, for the night, completely ungreased.

“But they’re so annoying,”

“To you.” Paul stopped Darry from continuing. “They’re annoying to you, because, yeah, like you said, you see them all the time. But to me, it’s an inside glance at your family, at how you interact with them, at how the three of you are being raised, and Darry…” Darry watched as Paul lost his words, or hesitated even saying them.

“What?” Darry asked quietly, mind running with possibilities faster than he could process them.

“Darry, those glances into your life? I want it. I want more of it…” Paul pressed another kiss to Darry’s lips, pulling back before Darry could respond to the kiss. Darry pouted at him, briefly, before smoothing over his face again in confusion.

“What does that mean, Paul?” Darry asked, ignoring how hard his heart was beating in his chest. The hand holding Darry’s chin moved to rest on his shoulder, Paul’s other hand was still buried in Darry’s hair, which felt important to Darry somehow.

“I don’t know how to get the words out… I-” Darry surged forward, pressing his own kiss to Paul’s lips before pulling back. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Paul was saying now. He knew Paul had always struggled understanding love, or with expressing his love in a way that made sense to others… but Darry didn’t need him to make sense.

“So don’t,” Darry uttered. Paul blinked at him in confusion. “Don’t force yourself to say something if you can’t… I’m right here, you’re right here, we’re alone, we don’t have to speak or do anything.” Darry wasn’t sure he knew what he was saying, or if it made any sense, but he could feel the tone shift inside the car, like an understanding was passing through them.

“Can we lay down… for a while?” Paul asked, lowering to hide his face against Darry’s shoulder. Darry moved his arms then, wrapping them around Paul’s frame and just holding him.

“Of course we can. Backseat?” Darry asked, and Paul nodded against his shoulder. Darry could feel the exhaustion on the other, and he had to wonder if everything was alright at home…

‘those glances into your life? I want it. I want more of it…’

Maybe Darry should start calling Paul over more often to just… hang out at home. Darry didn’t say anything as the two of them crawled over the front seats and into the back, Paul accidentally kicked Darry in the ribs and Darry accidentally pulled Paul’s hair, which got a laugh from the both of them both times.

“Where-, Which one is it?” Sodapop made a noise of confusion, going back through the packages to see if he could find some sort of instructions manual that had a picture of the device. Sodapop knew he shouldn’t have opened all of the packages until he knew what was what and which was which.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and Sodapop had terrible vision… Actually, it would be easier if Sodapop was actually wearing his glasses. However he had reasoned with himself that he shouldn’t wear them with a headache… despite his headache being caused by not wearing them.

“Okay, okay, this one.” Sodapop managed to find the manual for the spirit box, and located the device that looked oddly like a hand held radio like the one in the garage that his father used. “Uh,” Sodapop looked up, feeling a little silly now that he was doing this. “Oh, I feel silly now… Uh, I’m Sodapop, and I got this device… to see if you wanted to communicate?” Sodapop didn’t even know if whatever had been messing with him was there, or if it would want to communicate with him in the first place.

Sodapop turned on the device, wincing at the loud white noise that suddenly filled his room; he was quick to lower the volume to a more reasonable level and moved to set it on his desk. He wasn’t sure if it would even work, but he had hope.

“Okay, so, if you speak in the box I should be able to hear you!” Sodapop was excited, and he had hope. Even if it didn’t work today, it might work tomorrow. But, until then, he had a slight mess to clean up. He took a moment to stare at the pile of packages and… he should probably sort them and put manuals with the correct device.

“Like this?” Sodapop’s head snapped up towards the box, eyes wide. A hint of laughter came from the box soon after, like the ghost had watched Sodapop’s reaction and had found it funny.

“It worked!” Sodapop cheered, not even noticing that the once neat pile of boxes he was just about to sort through had knocked over. More laughter came from the box, and Sodapop turned to face it entirely. “Hi! I’m Sodapop!”

“I… Know…” The voice on the box was weird, but it didn’t bother Sodapop. It actually interested him; he moved a little closer. There was more white noise, and Sodapop pouted a little before realizing he should probably ask a question.

“What’s your name?” Sodapop asked. He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, feeling overwhelmed and excited. There was silence for a while, and Sodapop felt himself grow a little sad. “How old are you?” Only white noise filled the room.

“Seven… teen…” Sodapop perked back up.

“Seventeen?”

“Yes.” The yes was so much clearer, the white noise almost disappearing as the spirit answered him. There was a distinct male voice, no longer distorted by the white noise, before it was gone again.

“I’m fourteen!” Sodapop told the spirit. There was a bit of laughter from the box before just the white noise filled the room. Sodapop was itching to ask more questions; he had a full list of them written in a notebook, which was sitting on the desk. But he wasn’t sure if the spirit would be willing to answer them. 

“I don’t know what to talk about…” Sodapop made a face as he glanced at the ground. There was only white noise before he heard something hit the ground. Sodapop made a face of confusion as he looked up. His eyes darted around before landing on the notebook that was now laying on the ground, open. “You want me to ask questions from my notebook?” It made sense to him that the spirit would have watched him think of questions, Sodapop spent hours in the notebook and had come out with only thirteen questions.

1. What’s your name?

2.  How old are you?

3. How did you die?

4. Are you a male or female?

5. Did you have a family?

6. Is there a message you wanted to tell someone?

7. Why do you stick around here? (Does this place remind you of somewhere?)

8. When were you born?

9. What year did you die?

10. What’s your favorite color?

11. What’s your favorite animal?

12. Did you have any hobbies?

13. Are you the one who is messing with Darry’s Rings?

“Yes.” The voice came back, and Sodapop nodded as he stared at the list.

“Is there anything I’m not allowed to ask?” Sodapop asked, glancing up at the box. He liked this kind of communication, it gave him something to look at when speaking. He also knew that he was getting more responses than professional ghost hunters; or at least, more responses than the ones that Sodapop had come across in his ‘search for answers’.

Sodapop waited several minutes with just silence. It wasn’t a yes but it wasn’t a no either.

“Okay, well, just let me know if you don’t want to answer something?” Sodapop asked; there wasn’t a response. He supposed he jinxed himself about getting answers. “Okay, uh, the first question I have written down is: What’s your name?”

“...Steve.” Sodapop noticed that it almost seemed like the ghost, Steve, had hesitated before answering.

“Steve?” Sodapop asked, tilting his head as he stared at the box. “Did I hear you right?” There was a burst of excitement rushing through him.

“Yes.” Sodapop smiled brightly.

“Thank you for answering that, Steve.” Sodapop remembered, probably belatedly, that he was supposed to be polite to spirits. He had to give them respect to get it in return.

Steve watched Sodapop with an amused smile. The fourteen year old was curious, something that could be dangerous with his current interest in the paranormal; something that Steve could only blame himself for. He’d caught Sodapop’s attention, and Steve had watched Sodapop grow from a shy child to an energetic and curious teen, it was only a matter of time before Sodapop had gotten his answers.

“Is there a message you wanted to tell someone?” Sodapop asked, glancing back at the notebook that he had placed carefully in his lap. Steve sighed slightly, wincing as the ‘Spirit Box’ picked it up. Sodapop looked up, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Steve had placed his hand on the box, hoping that would channel some of his energy a little better. This… this was surprisingly draining on Steve. But he wanted to answer all the questions Sodapop had spent a lot of time trying to come up with.

Steve honestly thought Sodapop might have cried at one point.

“Are you sure? We can stop, I… I heard that this might be draining for you?” Sodapop was too good, Steve decided. Steve had known Sodapop’s father; had known just how caring that boy could be from experience.

And just like the night he died, Steve was overcome with a sense of protectiveness.

Sodapop glanced down at the list of questions that he’d been slowly writing answers next to, tilting his head. He’d learned a bit about his ghostly companion, but answers were slow coming and the silence between responses was growing.

1. What’s your name?

Steve

2.  How old are you?

Seventeen

3. How did you die?

Car

4. Are you a male or female?

Male

5. Did you have a family?

No

6. Is there a message you wanted to tell someone?

7. Why do you stick around here? (Does this place remind you of somewhere?)

8. When were you born?

9. What year did you die?

10. What’s your favorite color?

11. What’s your favorite animal?

12. Did you have any hobbies?

13. Are you the one who is messing with Darry’s Rings?

“One…” Sodapop wondered if the Spirit box had not given the full answer, or if it was more proof that Steve was getting tired. “One… question.” 

“One more question?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, uh,” Sodapop glanced down at the notebook in front of him, trying to decide what he wanted to ask Steve. Steve didn’t seem like he wanted to answer his sixth question, so maybe… “Are you the one who is messing with Darry’s rings?” Sodapop asked, glancing back at the spirit box.

“Yes.” There was amused laughter that followed that ‘yes’, and it brought an amused smile to Sodapop. He, personally, thought it was funny. But that was only because the rings weren’t being taken or damaged in any way… and Darry always said that Sodapop was imagining his cds being moved around, or that Ponyboy’s pictures were just being misplaced and that he ‘needed to be more organized’.

Sodapop thought that it was karma.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” Sodapop smiled. “Please rest! Get some more energy, though I… don’t know how you do that.” There was laughter coming from the box, it sounded creepy now that Sodapop thought about it, but he had a feeling it was just Steve. It only sounded creepy because of the white noise around it.

“Rest.” Steve responded, and Sodapop smiled. He pushed himself up, walking over to his desk and grabbing the spirit box to turn it off. He was still smiling, even when he turned around and saw the mess of boxes that he had knocked over… his smile fell as he groaned.

“You’ll know soon, okay?” Their mother had laughed, shifting her hold on Ponyboy as he made a noise in his sleep. Sodapop humphed, turning and sitting normally, his legs spread out in front of him before he was turning towards where their father was sitting in his chair.

“Dad-”

“You heard your mother,” Their dad laughed, and Sodapop pouted, crossing his arms for a moment before moving. He moved towards Darry, leaning against him as he tried to understand whatever homework had been in front of him. Darry didn’t remember what it was now, but he thought it had been math, or maybe science. It could have been anything, though.

Darry remembered that Sodapop had made a noise of discontent, moving and pushing Darry’s homework away, trying to convey that he thought, or had decided that, Darry should have been done with it now.

“Come on, Soda, I gotta finish that,” Darry had complained, but he didn’t try reach for it either. Sodapop moved to half lay across his lap, his back across Darry’s legs as he gave Darry a look. Both of them, and their parents, knew that Darry wasn’t even really trying.

“It’s Friday! You can do it tomorrow,” Sodapop told him, nodding as he crossed his arms. “Or even better, do it on Sunday!” Sodapop added, kicking his feet into the air and stretching a bit like Darry had seen some cats do, moving his arms to keep his head off of the floor.

“Speaking of it being Friday,” Their mother cut in, laughing lightly as Ponyboy’s eyes opened with a glare on his face; he was annoyed he was woken up. “Where is Steve? Usually he’s here by now.” Darry could remember that Steve would usually be at their house from the time school let out until his mom came to pick him up, preferring the Curtis family company to his father’s. Even his mom being there most days didn’t help.

“Dunno, said he had something to do.” Sodapop shrugged, not yet concerned about his friend.

Darry knew that in just two years, Sodapop would begin to have anxiety over not knowing their friend’s whereabouts. It would worry him so much that he would beg for sleepovers, just so that he didn’t have nightmares about whatever his mind could cook up.

Ponyboy wouldn’t understand it, and he would be annoyed by Steve’s constant presence. He’d leave one day, mad that Steve was over again, and Darry would chase him down, because Darry was always chasing after his kid brothers, and they would meet Johnny.

“I hope he’s here soon, or we can’t do our planned activity.” Their mother had smiled mischievously, even as she absentmindedly soothed Ponyboy. Sodapop gasped, eyes wide as he shot up into a sitting position.

“Can we go get him?” Sodapop asked, pushing himself back to his knees as he put his hands on the couch. Even Darry had found himself wanting to go find Sodapop’s best friend so that they could do this ‘planned activity’.

“I’ll go with him,” Darry offered before their mom could refuse Sodapop his request. “We can go get Steve and come back, we’ll be really fast!” Darry added, eyes darting towards their father hopefully. Both Curtis parents were thoughtful.

“I suppose,” Their dad spoke, smiling as both Darry and Sodapop brightened up. Ponyboy had started getting fussy, and was beginning to cry and kick his feet like he did when he had headaches. “There wouldn’t be any harm in them going to get Steve. Darry can handle his brother on a walk, Sharon.”

“Oh, alright. Go, but be fast.” Their mother smiled, brushing Pony’s hair back as he looked up at her with tears streaming down his face. “Oh, let’s get you some headache medicine, yeah?” Darry didn’t know what she did after that. He and Sodapop had just been excited to be able to go on this walk by themselves.

“I’ll put my homework away when we get back!” Darry called out to their father, his shoes half tied as he grabbed his and Sodapop’s jackets. Sodapop was already out the door and waiting at the metal gate, jumping up and down. He would get cold half way through the walk, and Darry knew that.

“Alright!” Darry had barely heard their father’s response.

Getting back with Steve, who was a little downtrodden, brought a smile to the eight year old’s face. Darry had seen the switch, and had, unfortunately, recognized it. Paul sometimes looked like that when he and Darry hung out at Darry’s house. People just seemed more relaxed here. That, and some of the decorations that he’d left at the Curtis house had been put up alongside Darry’s, Sodapop’s, and Pony’s.

They’d made caramel apples, which Sodapop called poison apples, and candied apple slices that night, and Steve got to stay over for the entire weekend, which had just made Sodapop’s weekend. Though, Darry was sure who had a better weekend, Steve or Sodapop. Both acted like it was the best thing to happen to either of them, and Darry remembered Sodapop’s reaction to hearing that they’d have a baby brother, even if he had barely been two at the time.

Darry never did learn why Sodapop called caramel apples 'poisoned apples’, maybe because it was halloween and he’d been reading fairy tales at school in his reading class. There was one in which Darry vaguely remembered having poisoned apples in it. Sodapop always did associate things with new things he learned. It helped him remember everything better.

Darry wiped a tear away as he listened to the gang talking excitedly in the living room. First Halloween without their parents, so of course it had him reminiscing. He wondered how bad Thanksgiving and Christmas was going to be, if he was this choked up about Halloween.

He was leaning back just beside the door to his room, a couple pictures scattered out in front of him. He had never known just how Sodapop and Steve had ended up with caramel on their noses, it should have burned them with how hot the caramel sugar was, he had figured that out when he had wanted to try it.

He still had a bit of a scar on his top lip, just under his nose from where it had gone up when Darry had also bitten the spoon in his surprise of how hot it was. Had not been a fun experience, and probably why that memory was so vivid to Darry. He remembered that Ponyboy had laughed loudly around then.

Ponyboy had managed to get his hands on some of the softening caramel when their dad wasn’t looking, and his entire hand was covered in it. Thankfully it had been cooled off and just mushy, so maybe that was how Sodapop and Steve had caramel on their noses. Their dad was funny like that and probably had done it.

“Darry?” Darry glanced up as the door was opened, Sodapop was at the door. He looked confused for a second before looking down and blinking in surprise. He shrugged it off, moving into the room and shutting the door behind him. “What are you doing in here? Gang’s all out there.”

“Just… needed a minute.” Darry shrugged. There was no point in trying to lie to his kid brother, Sodapop would just see right through him. Glory knows that Sodapop had to notice lies, for all the time he spends around Ponyboy.

Darry felt a little guilty at that thought. Sodapop did so much to take some of the burden that was thrust upon Darry when their parents died, not that Darry thought his brothers were burden’s. Sodapop had taken it upon himself to take care of Ponyboy when Darry couldn’t, especially emotionally, because Darry honestly sucked at that.

But he was working on it, and so was Ponyboy. It was a learning curve, especially with Ponyboy going through puberty, Sodapop learning out to lean on his brothers when he needed them, and Darry always working, though he worked less in the colder months.

There was a balance that they had been learning and adjusting to.

“I don’t rememb-Oh! That’s the year we first did caramel apples, right?” Sodapop was looking at the pictures, a light in his eyes as he reached and picked up one in specific. “Glory, I was young. Six?”

“Seven.” Darry corrected automatically before stopping. “Nearly Seven.” Sodapop chuckled, flipping the picture over. His smile dimmed, but was no less genuine as tears filled his eyes. Darry didn’t need to ask to know what he was looking at; their mother’s handwriting, claiming that her ‘four boys’ had tried caramel apples for the first time. It had been the first time their parents could afford it, but they tried for it every year.

Sodapop set that one down, picking up another. This one had five of them in it, and they were all a little older. Darry, Steve, and Sodapop were sitting in the back of a pickup truck with the hatch down, and in front of them were Ponyboy and Johnny, sitting on some hay bales. All five of them had popcorn balls in a little wrapped paper dish and smiles on their faces.

“I-, how old were we in this one?” Sodapop asked, tilting his head.

“Steve was eleven, you were nearly eleven, Pony was eight, and Johnny was ten.” Darry had been fourteen. He’d just entered highschool, and had his sights on joining the football team once the season started.

That was the year that Darry had started falling in with the wrong crowds.

Sodapop didn’t say anything. He was running his finger across the image, like he could uncover something if only he tried. He wouldn’t. Darry knew, because he had tried too. Sodapop set that picture down before picking up a third one. This one had the entire gang in it; it was Dally’s first Halloween with the Gang. He was… fourteen? Maybe fifteen in that picture.

They’d been carving pumpkins, and Ponyboy had gotten this great idea to dump the pumpkin guts onto Johnny’s head. Their pumpkin that they’d been carving had been momentarily forgotten as Johnny tried to get revenge. Ponyboy’s clothes had suffered for it, and Johnny smelled like pumpkin for days after. Dally was staring at the two of them incredulously, not noticing Two-Bit behind him with a pile hanging over his head to dump onto him.

Sodapop and Steve were in the background, laughing their asses off, the both of them were also covered in pumpkin guts; Steve with it all over his clothes and Sodapop had it covering his arms and hair. You could see them only because of the angle of the camera, showing Sodapop and Steve through the space in between Two-Bit’s arms.

Darry had been sitting off behind Ponyboy and Johnny, and had been looking at them startled. There was a pile of pumpkin seeds sitting in front of him. He liked sorting out the seeds, because he liked to bake them and eat them. He never did manage to get their mom to try them, though their dad loved them. Sodapop did too.

“I-” Sodapop stopped as he smiled, wiping the tears that were forming in his eyes. “This was my favorite year, I think.” Darry smiled at him softly as he nodded. It wasn’t his own favorite year, but it was close. “I’m going to go rejoin the gang. You coming?” Sodapop let the picture fall from his hands, his voice sounding thick with tears. Darry understood.

“I’m right behind you.” Darry nodded. Sodapop nodded sharply, pushing himself and leaving the room. Darry had to put the pictures away, carefully stacking them back together and putting them in the shoe box sitting beside Darry of all the holidays their family had ever done together and gotten pictures of.

He hesitated on that last picture that Sodapop held, holding in his hands as he stared at it. Darry knew that their parents had extras of all the pictures; had seen them himself when he dug through the attic. Maybe…

Darry pushed himself up, walking across the room to set the shoe box on his desk, closed. He set the picture on top of it before turning and walking out of the room. He had a couple pictures to go find before he could join the gang…

He would have to return Niki’s keys later, and reassure her that not a single scratch was on the car. It had been hard enough convincing her that it was important, it was her first holiday here too, without telling her why. Of course, Tubbo and Chayanne had been of no help to him and it had taken extra long to convince her.

Tommy made his way inside, shutting the door behind him so that none of the cats or dogs got out, though they were probably all sleeping to some degree. He toed his shoes off as he heard Tallulah squeal excitedly from the kitchen.

“Toms and Boo are home!”

“Oh good. Keys.” Tommy huffed, smiling as he turned and found Niki walking towards him, a sort of demanding anxiety in her eyes even though she was smiling. Tommy passed her the keys to her car.

“Not even a scratch.” Tommy assured her, knowing that she was going to go check anyway. Niki gave him a look, followed by a smile, before she walked outside and Tommy moved towards the kitchen. It seemed like Techno needed a break from the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg, because he wasn’t in the kitchen when Tommy walked in.

“Hi Toms!” Tommy glanced over just in time to see Tallulah signing along with her speech. He moved his bags to hang from one arm as he responded. Tallulah and Chayanne were both on chairs next to the counter, Tallulah kneeling and Chayanne sitting normally, as Tubbo and Ranboo sorted through bags.

“Hi ‘lullah. Baking going good?” Tommy asked, signing best he could. Tallulah brightened up and nodded quickly. “Hi Chayanne.” Tommy signed as he spoke, despite Chayanne not needing it. Chayanne waved, yawning tiredly as he went to speak, a look of startlement on his face before he shook his head.

“Hi Toms.” Chayanne smiled, waving as he kicked his feet. “What did ya get?” Chayanne asked, staring at the bags on Tommy’s arm. Tommy only smiled at him as he walked towards the fridge. He was going to store everything in the fridge, tied shut with the hope that no one decided to snoop.

“It’s for my baking tonight, when you all are asleep. You don’t get to know.” Tommy responded, snickering as Tubbo’s head snapped up and locked on him. “You don’t get to know either, Tubman.” Tubbo pouted but went back to sorting through ingredients with Ranboo. Tommy was quick to tie the bags shit, triple knotting them, before putting them inside one of the drawers at the bottom of the fridge and shutting the fridge.

“What are you planning on making?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy could see him glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Of course Tubbo would side eye him while trying to gather information. Chayanne and Tallulah were whispering to each other, glancing towards the oven with hungry expressions.

“A surprise.” Tommy responded, laughing as Tubbo pouted. “Boo-boy, keep him outta the fridge? He’ll try sneak a look.” Tommy pointed at Ranboo, who only smiled and nodded. Tommy could only hope that they would actually keep Tubbo out of the fridge and not try help him figure out what Tommy was baking that night.

Tommy was quick to disappear further in the house, trying his best to escape the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg, disappearing to his room to sleep before dinner for a bit.

Tommy yawned, moving down the stairs as quietly as he could. It was nearly midnight and the only ones who were awake were Philza, Techno, and himself. At least, it was supposed to only be the three of them awake, and even then, Philza should have been getting ready to sleep and Techno was just reading in his room.

He hummed quietly to himself as he quietly slipped into the kitchen. Either Philza or Techno had left a couple of the low lights on for Tommy, which was good because Tommy didn’t feel like turning on any lights for himself. He one hundred percent would have baked with the lights off if no lights had been on. He’d done it before and he will probably do it again one day.

He made his way to the fridge and found his baking supplies, a smile forming on his face as he found that they were tied perfectly still. Good, Ranboo did keep Tubbo from getting to Tommy’s supplies. He grabbed the bags and put them on the counter, shutting the fridge and moving to find his recipe book. A gift from his mother when he was a small child, before he had been taken in by Philza.

He smiled when he found the slightly old book. He ran his finger across the spine of the book before opening it and flipping through the pages to find a Chocolate Chip cookie recipe. He was adding some pumpkin to it, to give it a… halloween and fall feel. Besides, he liked Pumpkin a lot better than he liked cinnamon or nutmeg. They hurt his nose when too much was being used.

Even now, he scrunched his nose when he opened the oven. They used a lot of nutmeg and cinnamon today while baking. He settled on the page, setting the recipe book onto the mini stand that Techno had gotten a few years ago when he’d almost ruined his own recipe book. Now it was used by everyone in the family when they were cooking or baking.

He wondered if there was a way to make chocolate chip cut outs, but that was an experiment for another night. Another night in, maybe, a different month. Maybe that could be an experiment for Christmas time. Tommy usually made peanut butter cut outs in December, so that Tallulah and Chayanne could decorate them and eat them at the same time. Philza and Techno could be a little… protective… of their sugar cookies before a certain date.