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Curly hardly ever put any sort of effort into his appearance. He greased his hair and messed with it for a minute until it looked right enough, then he threw on whatever clothes he found that didn’t smell bad or have obvious stains.
But sometimes, a special occasion called for more thought—or at least clothes that hadn’t been worn twice already since their last wash.
He found a pair of jeans in a drawer that, despite being old and having a few small holes, fit and were clean. If he was better at planning, he would have done laundry so he had more options, but he wasn’t. He put on a T-shirt before deciding that July was far too hot to be wearing any sort of sleeves and opted for a white tank top instead. He double checked his look in the bathroom mirror before walking through the house to the front door.
Of course both of his siblings happened to be in the living room, which he had to pass by. At least their parents were sleeping off hangovers and were down for the count.
Tim and Angela both eyed him up and down. Curly tried to ignore them as he kept his eyes forward and walked straight to the door.
“Where you goin’?” Tim asked, taking a bite of cold pizza that was at least a few days old.
“Ponyboy’s house.”
They both sized him up again.
“He’s got you wrapped around his finger, don’t he?” Tim laughed.
Curly clenched his jaw as he felt his face redden. “Whaddya mean?”
“You wouldn’t look that clean if you were meetin’ the president,” Angela said matter-of-factly. “How long did you spend getting ready? Five whole minutes?”
Curly shrugged.
“First name basis, too,” Tim added.
“Well there’s three Curtises,” Curly argued.
Tim shook his head and started talking with his mouth full. “Big Curtis, Middle Curtis, Little Curtis,” he counted on his fingers.
Angela rolled her eyes. “They all live in the same house, too,” she pointed out.
“Fine then,” Curly grumbled, “I’m goin’ to Curtis’s house.”
Tim smirked. “So what’re you and Little Curtis doing?”
“It’s his birthday. We’re goin’ to the drive-in tonight.”
Angela grinned. “You comin’ home after?” she asked, making fake kissing sounds and wrapping her arms around herself.
“If you’re actin’ like that,” Curly rolled his eyes, “then I’m never comin’ back.”
“Promise?”
Tim stood up and walked to the kitchen. “Have fun with your lover boy,” he called over his shoulder. Curly’s glare followed him the whole way.
“I still don’t know what he sees in you,” Angela commented, standing up and going after Tim.
Curly huffed as he reached for the doorknob. “Fuck you too,” he muttered mostly to himself.
He knew neither of his siblings cared all that much about his relationship with Ponyboy. Even though he’d never explicitly told them about it, and didn’t exactly plan on doing so, they knew. Though Tim made frequent jokes, they never talked seriously about the topic. Curly was grateful.
His steps were bouncy as he walked through the neighborhoods to the Curtis’s house. He could feel a small smile on his face the whole time, and he was thankful that he didn’t run into anyone or else he would’ve had to harden his expression.
As he neared the house, he noticed that the family’s truck wasn’t parked outside. He walked up to the front door, but before opening it, he remembered that the truck being gone only meant that at least one brother was out. If either Darry or Soda was home and saw Curly walk in through the door, he’d have to explain himself before he was allowed to see Ponyboy. He was past the point of being kicked out, but the boys weren’t allowed to close the bedroom door when they were alone together.
He walked around the house and peered through the bedroom window instead, where he saw Ponyboy curled up in bed. He knocked a few times to get his attention and was surprised when Pony climbed out of bed in jeans and a T-shirt instead of pajamas. He trudged to the window and opened it.
“Hey, baby.” Curly wished he had his usual cocky grin on, but the other boy’s slouch and scowl kept it away.
Pony grabbed Curly’s arm and helped pull him through the window. Once he shut it, he stalked back to bed and threw himself onto the mattress. Curly followed, kicking his shoes off on the way.
Once Curly was horizontal, Pony rolled over and laid on top of him. Their bodies were flush, chest to chest, and Pony tucked his head under Curly’s chin. One of his hands wormed its way up to clutch Curly’s shoulder while the other lazily fell at their sides.
The older boy was both confused and concerned by the uncharacteristic demeanor exhibited by the younger. He wrapped one arm around his torso and his other came up to hold the back of his head, fingers gently playing with the grown-out blond hair. He instinctively tried to make his breathing as unnoticeable as possible to not bother the boy laying on his lungs.
“You okay?” Curly asked softly.
Pony shrugged.
“You feelin’ sick?”
Pony shook his head.
“You wanna talk about it?”
The hand on Curly’s shoulder moved up to his face, blindly feeling around until it clamped down over his mouth. Curly smirked. He grabbed Pony’s wrist and pulled his hand away, pressing a kiss to his palm before holding it to his chest.
“Gotcha,” he nodded. He pressed a kiss to the younger boy’s head before burying his face in his hair.
Truthfully, he was glad Pony didn’t want to talk about whatever was upsetting him. Curly wasn’t good at talking about feelings. He had close to no experience with it. He could listen to Ponyboy rant and vent, but words of comfort never felt right in his mouth.
“Do I gotta worry about either of your brothers comin’ in and yellin’ at me?”
Pony shook his head. Then he reached a hand down and grabbed the edge of the blanket. He tossed it up and pulled it over his head, burrowing himself farther into the other boy’s body. Curly felt Pony’s breath against his collar and tried to think about how he could cheer the other boy up.
He expected to feel tears dampen his shirt eventually, but it never happened. He lifted his head slowly to check on Pony, and green-gray doe eyes looked back up at him.
They must have fallen asleep, because Curly woke up when the door swung open. Soda stared back at him, and Curly saw a dozen different emotions pass through him.
“Hey Shepard,” he said flatly. “What’re you doin’ here?”
Curly looked down at Pony. “Bein’ a pillow,” he shrugged, “and sweatin’ like a pig.”
“Ponyboy here?”
Curly nodded. He pulled the blanket down enough so Soda could see his brother’s head.
A second after it was pulled down, Pony threw the blanket back up over his head. Curly chuckled, trying not to move too much, and combed though Pony’s hair with his fingers.
“He all right?” Soda asked.
Curly nodded, then shrugged.
Soda stood in the doorway for a few seconds, staring at the couple, before he crossed the room and stood at the bedside.
“You all right, Pony?”
Soda couldn’t see that Pony was nodding against Curly’s chest. The blanket that was hiding him barely shifted.
“He’s nodding,” Curly told him.
“You sick?”
Pony shook his head, and Curly relayed the information to Soda.
Soda squatted down to be more level with his brother. “You still wanna go to a movie later or do you wanna stay home tonight?”
Pony nodded.
“He’s nodding,” Curly said.
Soda blinked slowly. “To which question?”
Curly shrugged.
Pony’s voice was muffled by the older boy’s chest and the blanket, but a quiet “movie” was still heard by the other two.
“All right,” Soda sighed, knees crackling as he stood up. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” the blanket answered.
Soda’s gaze lingered on the lumpy blanket, then moved up to Curly. He was still on the fence about trusting him alone with his little brother—especially given whatever state Ponyboy was currently in—but he’d learned that Curly posed no intentional threat to them. Given the position they were in, Soda figured they would be fine. He pulled the curtains closed before he left the room, but kept the door open.
Curly glared down the hall. “Can you close the goddamn door?” he called.
He heard footsteps return, then Soda reappeared in the doorway. “No,” he said, smirking slightly before retreating once more.
Curly stared at the open door, then down at the boy on his chest. He groaned, but let his head fall back onto the pillow.
They were quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds being their breathing, before Curly spoke again.
“Hey baby,” he whispered. He didn’t want to alert Pony, and he definitely didn’t want Soda to hear him from down the hall.
Pony hummed.
“I gotta go to the bathroom.”
Curly felt a puff of air at his neck when Pony giggled, and it made him smile. Pony rolled over onto the mattress to let him out, and he could see an adorable smirk on his face.
Curly rushed down the hall to the bathroom and back as quickly as he could. When he returned, he found Pony sitting up in bed, eyes meeting his. He closed the door behind him and crossed the room to sit next to the younger boy.
“You doin’ okay?”
Pony nodded, giving a weak smile. “There’s a lot of people that don’t get any more birthdays. I was just thinkin’ about ‘em.”
Curly scooted closer and wrapped his arms around the other boy. He buried his face in Pony’s shoulder and squeezed him tightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to feel.
“I’m all right, Curls,” he laughed.
Curly didn’t let go.
“Really,” Pony insisted, “I’m okay.”
Curly loosened his grip and pulled away to look Ponyboy in the eyes. “Not even five minutes ago, you were all cuddled up on me, poutin’ and not talkin’. Now you’re just fine?”
Pony stared at him and nodded. Curly narrowed his eyes, trying to read the other boy. He was a good liar and Curly wasn’t good at telling when he was lying or telling the truth. Even his brothers, who could generally tell when he was lying, couldn’t always get the truth out of him.
To interrupt the interrogation, Pony lurched forward and tackled the older boy, pinning him to the mattress. He peppered kisses across his face before hovering inches away. “I’m okay,” he assured him.
Curly didn’t respond. He just kept staring into his eyes.
Then there was a knock at the door. Pony climbed off of Curly and said “Yeah” so whichever brother was on the other side knew it was safe to enter.
“Why’s this door closed?” Darry asked, looking between the two boys.
Pony shrugged. “Must’ve been the wind.”
Darry rubbed his tired face. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I got burgers. Come eat.”
Pony jumped from the bed, grabbed Curly’s hand, and dragged him toward the door.
Curly dug his heels into the ground and stopped just inside the doorway. Pony turned and looked at him with a confused expression. He knew Curly was strong enough to put up a fight when Pony pulled him places, but he rarely ever did. He almost never cared enough.
“Ponyboy,” Curly said gently, “where are you going?”
“To get food,” Pony said simply. “Darry and Soda’ll eat everything if we ain’t out there in a minute or two.”
Curly’s grip tightened on Pony’s hand, and he looked the younger boy up and down. “What’s goin’ on?”
“I told you,” Pony said, face blank, “I was just making myself sad. I’m done with that now.”
“I might not be good at feelings, but I don’t think that’s how they work.”
Pony shrugged. “It’s how mine work,” he smirked, pulling Curly out the door.
Curly rolled his eyes as he let Pony drag him down the hall to the kitchen. “You’re a weird kid,” he muttered.
They found a large fast food bag on the counter, filled with food. They each took two burgers and a handful of fries back to the table, and Pony filled up two glasses of chocolate milk for them.
As they ate, Curly kept kicking Pony’s foot. If it were anyone else, Pony would have kicked back twice as hard, but not Curly. Curly wasn’t kicking him to be annoying, it was his way of saying “I’m here, and I’m thinking about you.” They both knew he wasn’t great with sentimental words, but Pony found anything he did endearing anyway.
Then they all piled into the truck and Darry drove them to the drive-in. Soda, Pony, and Curly hid under a tarp and some blankets in the back as they entered so they didn’t have to pay as much. They parked and set up the truck bed so they could watch the screen as comfortably as possible. Soon, Steve and Two-Bit snuck in and joined them.
It was too hot for the boys to hide interlocked fingers under blankets, but they could sit shoulder to shoulder without raising any suspicion. Squeezing six of them in the bed of the truck made everyone sit close anyway.
When the movies were done, Curly didn’t go back to his house. Darry drove them all back to the Curtis’s, where they gorged themselves on chocolate cake and chocolate milk, and then Darry let the couple share Pony’s room as long as they kept the door all the way open.
“Did you have a good birthday?” Curly whispered once he was sure none of the other guys were watching or listening to them.
Pony hummed and cuddled closer to him. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
Pony shrugged. “For being you,” he smiled, “and for being here.”
Curly chuckled. “You’re a weird kid,” he said, tracing his hand up to Ponyboy’s bare shoulders. “Go to sleep.”
Pony pressed a quick kiss to Curly’s lips before resting his head back on the pillow, inches away from the older boy’s. Their hands rested comfortably on each other’s skin as their breath evened out and they fell asleep together.