I have returned from The Neverland! Heh, not really... Just finally finding time to stop my horrendous neglect of my work in between the time I spend doing crap for school, doing things with my friends, and hanging around with my love interest (yay boyfriends!). And I must say, it is about time! I apologize to everyone for having to wait on this. And I apologize to the story, too, for neglecting it in such a shameless manner. Do I need to be flogged? Mehbe...

Disclaimer: I own no one from The Outsiders. That's S. E. Hinton's territory. Special thanks should probably go to Maroon 5 for this chapter. They're awfully inspiring, lemme tell you! So, they get major uber props. Now, on with the story!

Lesson 6: Sunday Morning

Dallas ran Johnny straight to Buck Merril's house with no stops inbetween. Johnny never once looked back, fearing that if he did, his father would be right on their tails, blood all over him and filled with rage, ready to finally kill Johnny. Then the sirens started. There was nothing in the world Johnny feared more than cops. The thought of jail gave him a new burst of energy, and, though his tired legs protested, he managed to keep up with Dallas's pace.

When they finally reached Buck's, the music was blaring in a telltale sign of another wild party. Great... This was just what Dallas needed right now. Drunk Buck who wanted to talk and talk and talk and never show any intention of stopping. He walked right in the front door, hand still clasping Johnny's in a vice grip, and started looking for the lanky cowboy. Damn Merril... Never around when you really needed him...

"Hey, Dal" said a voice behind them.

Dallas turned around. Buck was standing there, shirtless, a beer in hand, his drunken grin plastered on his face. He looked Johnny up and down, dismissed him, then turned his attention to Dallas.

"Buck, we need your car."

"What's the rush? Don't wanna stay around and have some fun?"

Buck stepped closer and attempted to put his arm around Dallas's shoulders. Nonchallantly, the tow-headed greaser shrugged the offending arm off. Buck would not be deterred, though. The arm merely moved around Dallas' waist, pulling him close to the drunken cowboy. Dallas shivered, the bile in his stomach threatening to rise and drown everyone in the room... He hated when Buck touched him... Had always hated it...

"Don't we have fun, Dal...? How about we have some o' that fun now, huh..."

Buck's voice was thick and slurred against Dallas's ear. This only sereved to further repulse him. He wriggled out of Buck's grip, and stepped away. He needed space... He needed his space, away from Buck... Needed it or he would have a freak attack.

"Look, Buck, we need the damn car. Just give over, okay"

Something changed in Buck's eyes. Without warning, he reached out and slapped (lmao, bitch-slapped) Dallas. Dallas was caught off guard, and almost stumbled backwards. He regained his balance, but lost his control. He let Buck have it. All of the pent-up aggression, all of the fear, all of the hurt, anger, frustration, everything he used to fuel his strength.

The only thing that stopped him from killing Buck Merril then and there was Johnny's insistent hands tugging on his shirt, his voice pleading for him to stop. He let Buck fall to the floor and looked into those deep brown eyes full of fear. Tears were running down Johnny's cheeks. Dally grabbed the keys out of Buck's pocket, grabbed Johnny's hand again, and ran out of the house. He ran like hell to that car.

They hopped in, and Dallas tore out of the driveway like a bat out of hell. He knew exactly where he was heading. There was a special place he knew about for circumstances like this. Johnny was shaking in the passenger's seat. His eyes met Dallas's, and the older greaser put a hand on Johnny's knee to reassure him. Gently, he squeezed. Everything was going to be okay... They were going to be fine...

Ponyboy turned again restlessly in bed. He just couldn't sleep. Something felt off... Wrong... He couldn't explain this feeling that prevented him from resting... He sighed and put his legs over the side of bed. 'A glass of water... That's all I need... Then I'll try to sleep again...'

He headed down the hallway to the kitchen, careful not to step on that one floorboard that creaked. No reason for Darry or Soda to suffer on account of his insomnia. Two-Bit was passed out on the couch. He resisted the urge to chuckle at the greaser's sprawl and headed on to the kitchen. Glass in hand, he retrieved some water from the tap. It soothed him.

Outside, the stars shone. The window above the sink created such a perfect frame for them... Pony was so wrapped up in artistic thoughts, that he barely noticed a presence behind him until hot hands touched his hips. He jumped in shock, and wheeled around to see Two-Bit.

"Jesus, Two-Bit, gimme a heart attack, why don't ya"

"Sorry, Pony. You were so intent on that window, you didn't hear me call your name..."

There was a strange tone in Two-Bit's voice... Something Ponyboy had never heard before... And those two grey eyes of his seemed cloudy. The kitchen suddenly seemed like an oven, growing ten times hotter and it was way too small. Pony leaned back against the sink to try to distance himself from Two-Bit and figure out what this strange feeling was in the pit of his stomach... Kinda felt like he'd swallowed a thousand and one worms and they were all squirming around, trying to crawl out.

Two-Bit was being driven. Ponyboy looked so desirable under that sink light, and Two-Bit's hormones were his guiding force. It felt so surreal as he reached out and grazed Pony's arm with his hand. Pony shivered and closed his eyes, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. His shivered again as Two-Bit's hands moved to his bare waist, and then further still until they ran above the line of his sweatpants, just below his navel.

The skin that Two-Bit touched was firm and soft. He was quickly becoming addicted to the feel of that skin, those short little gasping noises Pony was making. It sounded as if he was drowning. And he was; he was drowning in the feelings Two-Bit was inflicting on him. One part of him wanted to move closer to those exploring hands, and yet, another part was screaming how wrong this was. 'Are you some kind of queer,' that evil little voice yelled. 'What would everyone at school say if they saw you panting under a guy's touch! You like women. You like women! You! Like! Women!' That particular voice didn't matter to Ponyboy. Now, his emotions had taken control and they made him lean into Two-Bit. The older greaser was all too happy to return the gesture, and in one electric instant, their lips met. The breath seemed to be sucked right out of Ponyboy. Two-Bit pulled Pony's lean body against his hard, wanting one. There needed to be nothing between them. Nothing at all. And to ensure that this happened, Two-Bit's fingers hooked in the waistband of Pony's sweatpants and began pulling them down with excruating slowness. Pony's heart beat a triple beat at the thought of what was happening.

A noise behind them halted Two-Bit's actions. He stepped away from Pony - reluctantly - just before Soda shuffled into the kitchen. The two watched him grab the choclate milk carton out of the fridge, open it, take a drink, then head back to bed. Two-Bit growled and slouched over the sink, his hands supporting him. Pony was still leaning there, panting. He was thinking a little clearer now, and he realized what he had almost been caught doing.

"I'm gonna... go back to bed now" he whispered.

"All right, Ponyboy." Two-Bit was still slouched over the sink. He was suffering from a major problem he would have to rectify (big word!) once Pony was gone.

Pony went back to his room and climbed back into the bed. Soda was sound asleep again. Now, the lack of liquids in his system wasn't what was keeping him awake...

Dallas sat on a beat-up couch in the little trailor. This was where a cousin of his lived from time to time. The said cousin was a drifter, and was currently on a road trip to Vegas. Trying to make it big or something like that. So, logically, it was the perfect hide-out. Or the perfect place to take chicks. Either way... Johnny was in the little bathroom, changing into some dry clothes. The sky had opened up and started pouring rain down on them as soon as they'd stepped out of the car, and the little brown-eyed boy had gotten soaked.

Johnny came out of the bathroom then walked straight to the bed. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and pretend that this whole night had never happened. But when he'd pulled back the single sheet on the bed and gotten a look at all of the questionable stains on that mattress, he'd changed his mind about climbing into a bed.

"Dally?"

"Yeah, Johnnycake?"

"Is there anywhere else to sleep? This mattress is... gross..."

Dally came over and had a look for himself. Johnny was right; that mattress had seen better days. In fact, it needed to be taken out and burned. No telling what kind of disease someone would get from that thing...

"Yeah, Johnnycake, we can double up on the couch. It's plenty big enough."

And it was. They laid down facing one another, and Johnny closed his eyes. Dallas looked admiringly over the angelic face. There was something so beautiful about Johnny Cade when he was sleeping. It was simply breathtaking. Then the tears started rolling down those tanned cheeks, and Dallas's heart seized up. Johnny's mere tears turned into a river of tears, then progressed into oceans and heart-breaking sobs. Dallas enveloped Johnny in his arms, holding him close, whispering softly to him. He moved his hands in soft stokes over Johnny's back.

A little known fact about Dallas Winston was that he had a way with horses. He was a horsewhisperer. So, in attempt to calm Johnny down, he tried everything he would do to calm a spooked horse. He made comforting noises near Johnny's ear, moved the strokes from their isolated place on his back to his shoulders and arms, and kept him close. Soon enough, Johnny was calmed down, but instead of stopping his roaming hands, Dallas got more confident, more passionate in his strokes. Johnny was finding it harder to breathe under Dallas's minstrations.

With practiced ease, Dallas had Johnny on his back and was letting his hands run over Johnny's torso. Seeing as how Johnny was shirtless, this wasn't exactly a hard task. Johhny began moving with the caresses. When Dallas's lips sought and found his own, the deal was closed. Right there on that ratty couch with the rain beating down on the metal roof that early Sunday morning in Tulsa, Johnny Cade gave himself wholly and completely to Dallas Winston.

Ooh, steamy! Later Days!