I don't own The Outsiders
This is dedicated to my grandfather and his friend Billy, who completely inspired this oneshot.

-TheFiretruck-

"Stay here, and don't move," the police officer growled, forcing the greaser into a straight-backed wooden chair in one of the back rooms of the police department. Grey eyes wandered aimlessly around the room, taking in every crack in the wall and the humming of the florescent lights above. Despite his situation, the grin had not yet vanished from his face, and he continued to hum what sounded like Jailhouse Rock.

Two-Bit Matthews was, of course, here by a complete accident. When he was told to move the damn thing from point A to point B, he had never been specifically told what road to take and how fast to get there. In fact, he wasn't sure if he was even told where point B was. If he had been, he didn't remember a thing.

However, he now knew that he was in a shitload of trouble, all because of one vehicle that he had wanted to drive all his life.

The firetruck.

That red car from hell was the reason he was sitting in the police station, locked in a small room with the annoying lights and the uncomfortable chair, and it was the firetruck's fault that Darry was coming to get him from said station because his mother and sister Lucy were visiting relatives in Colorado.

He sighed, putting an early stop to the Elvis song as he tried to figure out a way to explain it to whoever asked as truthfully and humorlessly as possible. But... who was he kidding? Somewhere along the line he was bound to exaggerate a detail or two, but what was there to exaggerate? He had been arrested driving a firetruck for God's sake!

A different officer poked his head into the room and scowled at Two-Bit, as if wishing he could just wrap his big, beefy hands around the Greaser's neck and tighten his hold. Yet his voice held some fake cheerfulness when he revealed that Darry had come to pick him up.

Two-Bit all but skipped out of the back room, tipping an imaginary hat to the officer at the front desk and holding his hand out for a high five to a police woman who walked by. He was feeling overly-cocky. So he was acting like a smartass... what were they going to do? Throw him in jail?

Again, he added silently.

Needless to say, Darry was not pleased with the call he got from the police department, with Two-Bit begging on the other line to pick him up and "get him out of this hell hole" because "they're killin' me, Dar! It's all 'here again, Mr. Matthews' and 'siddown'... like they ain't even human!" Overly dramatic, yes, but Two-Bit didn't think anything of it when he and Ponyboy were lounging in the back of the truck while Darry drove them to the DX, saying that Two-Bit could walk home for all he cared because it would do him some good.

"So... how'd you end up there, Two-Bit?" Ponyboy asked, looking at him with confusion. He hadn't gotten the whole story, obviously, and Two-Bit was pretty sure he hadn't told anyone anything apart from the simple explanation of "I got pulled over".

"We-ell," Two-Bit began, and he could have sworn he heard Ponyboy mumble 'oh boy, here we go', but a smack to the back of the head silence him quickly. "It went like this... I was walkin' down the street mindin' my own business..."

"Hey kid!"

Two-Bit didn't bother to turn around, knowing very well that he was not a child, but a mature adult.

"You with the leather jacket! C'mere!"

He glanced around and, seeing nobody else in a leather jacket, turned back and walked over to where a man was standing, wearing suspenders and bright yellow pants. Two-Bit snickered at the outfit. "You get dressed in the dark?" He asked, finding that comment absolutely hilarious, while the man merely found it annoying and unnecessary.

"Yeah, yeah... look. I need ya to drive this here firetruck from here, to..."

"What?" Ponyboy asked when Two-Bit paused. "Don't you remember the rest of the story?"

"A'course I do!" Two-Bit snapped. "I just don't remember that part."

"Why'd you want a greaseball like me drivin' this thing?" He asked, looking up at the vehicle in all its shiny, red glory.

"'Cause nobody's answerin' the goddamn walkie talkie, that's why," the fireman snapped. "And I gotta wait here for someone, anyway. So you up for it?"

Ponyboy scoffed. "A fireman let you drive his firetruck? What were you, Two-Bit, soused?"

"No I wasn't... well... just a lil, but if you don't shut yer yap, I'm not gonna finish tellin' you the story."

"Okay, I'll be quiet."

"Good. Now..."

"Put the key in the ignition right there..." Called the fireman from the sidewalk, and Two-Bit rolled his eyes.

"I'm eighteen an' a half, I can drive a car!"

"But this ain't..."

"It has wheels an' it can move if you stick a key in it, it's a car."

"So can a zebra but—"

Two-Bit had already started the truck and stepped on the gas, and all the fireman found himself talking to was an empty street.

Meanwhile, Two-Bit was cruising down the—

"Cruisin'?"

"Yeah, cruisin'."

"Two-Bit, I don't think you cruise. You speed."

"You'll be cruisin' for a bruisin' if you don't stop interruptin' my story."

The youngest Curtis rolled his eyes. "You already threatened me with not tellin' the story, and you didn't hold out on your end of the bargain."

"Fine. You can make up the ending yourself Mr. I'm-So-Great-At-Tellin'-Stories." Two-Bit sat back against the cab of the truck and crossed his arms.

A few moments passed.

"Okay," Ponyboy said desperately, "I won't talk anymore. C'mon, tell me more!"

Two-Bit smirked. "Sucker."

Two-Bit was cruising down the highway. It was oddly empty for this time of day, but he didn't think anything of it until he saw a police car in his rear-view mirror. He had two options... speed up, or slow down. Not in the mood for mouthing off to cops (hell, he had already mouthed off to an authority figure today, he figured his quota was full), he pulled over.

"And that's how I got where I am now."

Ponyboy sat there and let out an exasperated sigh. "You were runnin' the siren, weren't you."

Two-Bit's usual goofy grin spread across his face and he nodded eagerly. "I was ringin' the bell, too!"

-TheEnd-

So, what did you think?
I used up the remainder of my muse for this, just so you know
And those last lines were used by my grandfather and his friend.
Totally historical fiction.
Well... not really.