Chapter Text
Out of everyone in the gang, Darry is definitely the one Johnny respects the most.
Not only does he care for his two younger brothers. He also plays the father figure to the many strays that call his house their home.
It’s not easy, caring for all those kids. More often than not, Darry is exhausted and strung out.
If there’s anything Johnny can do to make things easier, he’ll do it.
"Say, Darry?"
"Whatdya need, Johnny?" Darry asks, a bit harshly.
He's going through the mail, staring in despair at the bills piling up. The bags under his eyes have only been getting darker.
Twenty years old. With the stress lines of a grown man.
"Are ya free tonight?"
"What for?"
"Well..Dally and I were meant to see this movie tonight, but he says he's too busy to, now. I was wondering..y'know, if you weren't busy.."
That's not a total lie. There is a movie tonight, except it's not really one Johnny wants to see, neither would Dallas, not again.
"I bet Dar would like it. Sports movies just ain't my thing," Dal had said when he was telling Johnny about the movie.
When Johnny had said he might like to see it, Dally had immediately dropped a whole fiver in his palm. He'd ruffled his hair and told him to go with Pony or someone.
So, really, it's not that big of a lie. At least, that's what Johnny tells himself.
"What's Pony doin'? Or the rest of the guys?" Darry asks.
It's not often Darry gets a chance to hang out with the gang. He's been slowly drifting apart from them for months.
"Well, Pony said he's hangin' with Curly, and Steve and Soda are out. Y'know neither of them can sit still for a movie anyway."
They even got banned from the movie theater nearest to them for starting a popcorn fight. Not that Darry knows about that.
"I dunno, Johnny.."
Johnny makes a bit of a show of wilting in disappointment. "Nah..it's alright, Dar. I know you're busy."
Darry's face scrunches in guilt. He's two seconds away from breaking.
"It just sucks that viewings stop soon. I really wanted to see it tonight.."
And hook, line, and sinker.
"Alright, fine."
Johnny lights up, a smile stretching across his face. "Really?"
Darry smiles. "Really. Get your shoes on, I'll be out in a sec."
He has to keep his excitement under lock. Honestly? Johnny wasn't sure if his plan would even work.
They take Darry's car to the theater. Johnny insists on paying for the tickets and snacks. Darry only relents because it's technically Dally's money.
"That kid really needs to learn how to save," Darry says.
Johnny shrugs, choosing not to tell Darry about the emergency fund hidden inside the lining of Dally's mattress.
Dally was completely right about the movie. Johnny ain't the fondest of it, but Darry adores it.
It's the story of a quarterback, whose knee injury and growing bitterness at life threatens his entire career. He has to reconnect with his love of life if he wants a chance back at the field.
Darry damn near cries during it.
Johnny looks over, a grin growing on his face.
All the worry lines of Darry's face have smoothed over. His eyes are glinting with forgotten, childish joy.
Twenty years old. The weight of the world on his shoulders.
If Johnny can help him forget that weight, if only for a few hours, then he'll do it. Darry deserves it, for all he does for them.
The one thing about Steve Randle is, he knows how to push people away.
He's had years of practice, carefully crafting his spiked armor.
Maybe there was a time when he was an innocent, happy-go-lucky kid.
Now? He's infamous in Tulsa. People may not know his name, but they know to steer clear of him.
He's known as "the asshole" or "Soda's ugly friend" at school. Around their neighborhood, he's the psycho that took on four guys with nothing but a broken bottle. The guy who will break you into pieces if you look at any of his brothers wrong.
All of it is part of a perfectly crafted persona he's been building since the day his mom abandoned him with his drunk of a dad.
Unfortunately for him, Johnny has seen past much better acts.
He can tell Steve's dad has beaten him recently because he's sleeping in the lot.
Mr. Randle always throws his son out right after he beats him. Steve has to wait a couple of days before he's let back in.
"He always gives me a couple dollars when I get back," He said, as if that made it better.
Right now, Steve is on his side. Unlike Johnny's own father, Mr. Randle is consistent with his beatings.
"Heya Steve," Johnny greets.
"Hey John.."
"Your back okay?" He asks softly.
Steve doesn't answer, which tells him all he needs to know.
Despite his hood-like persona, Steve is a lousy liar, with an even shittier poker face. He leaves the charming to Soda.
"I was headed to see Dal. Could use some company. Don't like walkin' alone.."
Maybe Johnny plays up his whole 'scared puppy' thing, but it makes the gang listen. Besides, he is scared, just not as much as they think.
With a heaving sigh, Steve gets to his feet.
He acts like it's a big chore, but he can't fool Johnny. He's desperate for some company, some connection.
Johnny gets like that after his own dad wails on him. It's just nice to know you ain't alone.
They chat quietly on the way there. Johnny and Steve are the quietest of the gang, usually leaving the talking to their respective Curtis brother.
Johnny is quiet by nature, meanwhile Steve keeps quiet to protect himself. The guy really doesn’t do well in the spotlight.
There’s only one real way to get him talking.
“Say, how’s that one car you were working on? The one that soc brought in?”
“Oh, Johnny, it’s a beautiful Pontiac Tempest. The prettiest thing I ever seen, I swear. And it’s got the smoothest engine I’ve ever heard. Actually, did you know—“
Johnny nods along, listening as Steve rambles about what year each part came from and what adjustments he’s been making to it.
Once they get to Buck’s, he and Dallas will bully him into letting them take a look at his back. The angry, bleeding welts will break Johnny’s heart all over again. He’ll have to resist the urge to take that Pontiac and hit Mr. Randle with it.
But, for now? He’s content to listen to Steve rant about his dream car.
There are days when Dally is even more irritable than usual.
He's got a bit of a temper on a normal day, so it's hard to notice when something is genuinely wrong.
Thankfully, Johnny is an expert on all things Dallas Winston.
Even more thankfully, Dally has the biggest soft spot for him. He'd do anything Johnny told him to, really.
Johnny is fully aware of this power. He tries his best not to abuse it, but desperate times and all.
"Hey, Dal?"
"What?" He snaps.
There's a flash of guilt in his eyes, but he makes no move to apologize. Johnny doesn't mind, he knows Dally will say sorry later.
"Can we head to your place?" Johnny asks simply.
To any outsider, they would be a completely innocent question. But Dally knows what it really means. It's nice having their own secret language.
"Whatever, John." Dally's words are clipped, irritated, but the tension ever so slightly leaks out of him.
He tosses his cigarette and leaves the bar without a word. Johnny follows after him like a puppy.
Whenever Dally gets like this, he never wants to talk. That means the walk to Buck's is silent. Johnny would usually feel anxious, but he's with Dally, and Dally never makes him nervous.
The door hits the wall when Dallas slams it open.
When Buck doesn't immediately shout at him, Johnny assumes he isn't home. He tends to scold Dallas like his son.
This time, he leads the charge to Dally's room. With practiced ease, he shucks off his jeans, hoodie, and shirt.
He stares expectantly until Dallas hesitantly does the same.
Dally has always struggled with body issues. He's tall, lanky, and sickly thin from years of being underfed. Not to mention the amount of scars that cover his skin.
Without a word, Johnny lays down and opens his arms. Dally is already tearing up, even before he lays down in his arms.
Once he gets comfortable, Dallas breaks down.
His entire life he's been starved for any type of touch or affection. To have Johnny here, giving it so freely? It affects him more than he's willing to admit.
Johnny shushes him, softly running his hands through his hair. He gently untangles any knots he finds.
Dallas cries until his voice is hoarse, until he has no tears left and the horrible ringing of his da's voice in his head finally stops.
He cries until he can't anymore.
Only when Dallas falls asleep does Johnny relax. He has half a mind to drive down to New York and also hit Mr. Winston with the Pontiac, but he refrains.
Dallas needs him here, so that's where he is. Like the obedient guard dog he is.