Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, or "The Navesink Banks" by The Gaslight Anthem.

Warning: This story is rated T for language, violence, and sexual situations. It is also set in the same universe as all my other stories.

CHAPTER ONE

You gotta keep a good eye on the winding road ahead.

You never thought a golf club could do so much damage. Sure, it's long and heavy, but you've never thought of it as a weapon before - weapons are guns and knives and fists. Golf clubs are for golfing. But your old man seems to think otherwise, and as soon as he picks it up, you know what's going on.

Your ma won't let him take the money from Curly's piggy bank. You don't think there's more than a couple of dollars in there, but that obviously doesn't matter to him - he wants the money, and he's going to do whatever it takes to get it.

Angela's crying. Four years old, and about to see her own father beat the shit out of her mother - no, scratch that. She's already seen him beat the shit out of her, but this time fists don't seem to be enough of a weapon, and as you stare wide-eyed, that's when the gold club comes in.

And there's nothing you can do. You're ten years old, a scrawny kid who doesn't even know how to throw a decent punch, and your dad is big and tough and mean. And you want to help - had tried to help - but your mom yelled at you to get away, to look after Curly and Angel, and when your mom's bleeding and crying and curled on the floor like that, you have to do exactly as she says.

Your old man brings the golf club down on your mom's back, and you shove your hand over Angela's mouth to keep in her scream. It comes out in a choked sob, and her wet face soaks your hand in seconds. Curly's quiet next to you - pale and still and just as terrified as you. You look at him and you look at Angela, and then you make yourself look at your parents.

Your mom's face is bloody, unrecognisable, screwed up in the kind of pain you can't imagine. But your dad doesn't stop, and just after a particularly harsh hit to her hip, your mom looks at you and you somehow know what to do.

One hand still over Angela's mouth, you pick her up and nudge Curly. His lips tremble when he looks at you, but he follows you and stays completely silent, out the back door. You can't do anything to help your mom by staying there and watching. You have to go next door and tell Miss Kate what's going on. She'll help your mom.

And, in the meantime, you help Angela and Curly.

xxxxx

Girls are crazy. They have pretty smiles, nice hair, and soft-looking skin, but they're damn crazy. You watch the blonde walk away, wondering how things became so screwed up, before looking at Danny.

"Did you know?"

He frowns. "Nah. I thought she was just datin' me."

You nod, because that's exactly what you had thought, too. Jeanie Peterson sure is pretty, but you and Danny had fought over her before she finally decided on you. Well, you had thought she chose you, but it turns out now she had been dating you both all this time, and you wonder why the fuck you got in to a fist fight with your best friend over some girl who definitely isn't worth it.

Jeanie Peterson makes her way back to her friends, where she giggles and gossips, and you suddenly wonder if any girls is worth it. Getting a kiss out of them might be worth the trouble of sweet-talking them, but none of them are worth getting in to it with Danny, and you know that for sure.

You have more fun walking down the street with Danny than you had at the movies with Jeanie on Saturday.

"Let's not do that again," Danny says, voicing your own opinion.

You nod, and you both turn your backs on Jeanie Peterson. "We should make some kind rule, ya know? So we never fight over some broad again."

"Like, some kind of hands-off thing?"

"Yeah. Somethin' like that."

An hour and six Cokes later, the rules for Hands Off are determined and you feel much better. Going by the grin on Danny's face, you think he might, too.

xxxxx

You lose your virginity at fourteen. She's eighteen, thinks you're sixteen, and has the longest legs you've ever seen. And she's willing to let you do things to her you have only heard about, thought about, dreamed about.

You're at some party in an almost decent neighbourhood. Some guy from school invited you, and you and your buddies weren't about to say no to the free beer. And she is all over you minutes after you walk inside - flirting, giggling, touching. And, hey, who the fuck are you to complain? She's sexier than any of the girls at school who give you attention, and when she drags you to an upstairs bedroom, you aren't stupid enough to say no.

The whole thing's a bit of a blur, and, you don't think you'll remember much about it afterwards. But you try to etch to memory the way she smells like lotion, the way she tastes like cheap wine, and how she feels so fucking soft you worry you might hurt her.

But then she leans into you, closes her eyes, and whispers exactly what she wants you to do to her - where she wants you to touch her. And you do every fucking thing she tells you to. You were never much for school - anything that required much concentration, for that matter - or following instructions, but when she closes her eyes and slips your hand up her skirt, you pay attention and do exactly what she says.

It doesn't take her long to stop talking - you're a quick learner; instead breathy little whimpers fall from her lips, and you stare at her, counting and recounting the sixteen freckles that scatter over her nose, and concentrate.

Until she goes for the button and zipper of your jeans.

When you get home, you can't remember if her name was Valarie or Veronica, but you remember those freckles.

xxxxx

Even with next-to-no experience, you make the most of what you do know. Valarie - Veronica? - showed you what you needed to know, and now you know it, you've been running it through your head since, you can't stop thinking about it … and you want to do it again.

You just have to find a girl as willing as she was.

Cathy Scott is looking good, but she's been looking at Danny all night, and you doubt he'll score with her - unlike you, he hasn't scored yet, and it's something you take possibly too much pleasure in - but you know he'll at least get to make out with her for a while. That's nothing to complain about; Cathy Scott is the prettiest girl at the party.

Wanda Hennings keeps looking at you, but you don't like her much. She's a real busy-body, and you've never been much for gossip.

But Denise Kennedy is looking mighty fine, and you think you might just have a chance. She's standing in the kitchen, looking awful good, and you have to at least give it a go. She's not sweet and pretty like Cathy Scott, but she has that same wicked spark in her eyes that Valarie - or Veronica - had, and that can't be bad.

It's not bad. A little flirting, a touching, a little convincing, and it's all worth it. She doesn't put out - you're not sure you really expected her to - but she touches you and, hell, that's never something to complain about.

xxxxx

You don't understand what's going on. One minute, your mom's telling you she's having another baby. She and your step-dad are having a baby, and isn't that just wonderful? You nod and go along with it, because she does seem happy, and - so far - Jimmy seems like an okay kind of guy.

But ever since your old man left, a lot's been left up to you. Too much was left up to you to begin with, that the truant officer came around, asking your mom why you hadn't been at school in weeks. Fighting an embarrassed blush, your mom had to explain that she had been in the hospital, and that 'there ain't no one else to look after the young'uns'.

Jimmy came along two years ago, after your mom had herself a string of assholes who didn't know how to treat her. Jimmy drinks all her beer, but that's the only complaint you've got about him. He seems okay, maybe a little loud sometimes, but okay. And, if there's really going to be another kid in the house, then you hope he stays okay.

When your mom starts screeching later that day, crying about how she's bleeding, you watch Jimmy hurry her out of the house. She has to stay in hospital for a day or two after that, and Jimmy doesn't leave her side. He calls to tell you there's not going to be a baby after all, and you don't understand it, but you figure he might stick around longer than you originally gave him credit for.

xxxxx

You're doing pretty good at this getting-laid thing. The fact that girls are growing up and being much more agreeable sure doesn't hurt. There's been three girls since Valarie/Veronica, and you want more. In fact, there's one you want in particular.

Red hair, long legs, and a secret little smile, Ruth Goodall has been tempting you all night. And you can't stop staring at her. You think about going to talk to her, but she looks your way every so often, and you decide against it. Instead, you talk to Danny and pretend not to notice her. Truth is, she crosses her legs in a way that everyone notices.

And when she finally makes her way toward your table at Buck's, you give her your best smirk, count to ten, and wait for her to say something.

She doesn't even look at you. She leans down to whisper in Danny's ear, and you can see her lips brushing his skin as she speaks. And you know it's not for your benefit - she really wants Danny.

You swallow back self-pity as she drags him to the dance floor, and remind yourself that you've been gloating for a few months now - it's only fair Danny gets to know what you've been talking about.

A/N: Entire fic has been beta'd by the wonderful samaryley. As you might have guessed, this fic concentrates on certain moments in Tim's life, so don't be surprised if you see the occasional choppy chapter, large jumps through time, or scenes you might have seen in my other fics.

Feedback, as always, is appreciated.