Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders

A/N: incense and peppermints, this is your doing. As soon as you said 'write more Mrs Curtis', she popped into my head again...

You don't have three boys without developing some kind of sixth sense. Without it, you'd never stay one step ahead of the lunatic schemes and ideas.

'Mom-sense', Ponyboy named it, when Spiderman came out and became his obsession for a while. Very useful it is too. Course I'd been practicing for years by the time he needed a watchful eye, no wonder he thought I had eyes in the back of my head.

.

Like when Soda was seven and decided to see if he could fly. From the roof. With Steve holding a couple of my good pillows underneath, just in case it didn't work. Just In case!

Luckily, they were too quiet for a little too long and that's never something that's safe to ignore. I can still hear Soda's indignation that I wouldn't let him jump.

"But, Mom, I've got it all worked out..."

.

It's useful in other situations too, this Mom-Sense.

When Darry was eleven, he got hurt real bad in a wild football game that he got into with some older boys. Never said a word. Lordy, the pride of that boy. He came in the house, walked right past me and simply said he needed to get changed because he was all over mud.

Something made me follow him and peer in his room, when I would've otherwise given him his privacy to undress. At eleven you don't want your mom around so much. But something made me check on him.

As he pulled his t-shirt gingerly over his head, I could see he was scraped and battered all down one side, from his chest to his waist, his skin showing up livid, red bruises that were already coloring up.

"Sweetie, that looks like it hurts," I said gently, going to him for a careful hug.

He looked at me and his lip wobbled. "Uh huh," he nodded. But he didn't cry.

Turned out he had two cracked ribs.

Come to think of it, that was probably what started him working out. He didn't like to come off worse in a tackle, even when the other guys were way bigger.

.

Any number of times I've caught them sneaking out when they should've been in, sneaking in when they should've been back already, 'borrowing' each other's stuff without asking, trying to hide broken lamps, dishes, whatever came off worst in that day's tussle.

Sometimes I feel like a cross between a prison guard and a mind reader.

.

Anyway, they might be getting older, but I'm still on watch. And when I heard footsteps, followed by the tiniest click from the kitchen, my super-sense was on full alert.

I stood in the doorway, arms folded, with my eyebrows raised, as he turned around from the fridge, already chomping on the slice of chocolate cake.

He jumped some when he saw me, crumbs falling down his front and onto the floor. I let him know with a look that I'd seen that mess being made.

"Is the cake still good?" I asked, calmly.

He nodded guiltily, swallowing, which was kind of difficult because he'd taken a huge bite.

"And you realise that was the last piece?"

He nodded again, grinning at me with frosting covered lips.

"And you didn't think to ask if anyone else would've liked some?" I was having a hard time keeping a straight face by now.

He very deliberately put the last chunk of cake in his mouth, chewed it and licked his lips, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Then he came at me, fingers covered in sticky chocolate frosting.

"Darrel!" I warned, "Don't you...dare!" The last word was kind of mangled as I ran out of the kitchen. We faced each other over the dining table, trying to guess which way the other one would run.

"I swear, Darrel Curtis, you are worse than all our children put together!" I laughed. He grinned and dodged to one side. I went the other way.

I made it to the back steps before he caught me. I shrieked and tried to get out of the grip of one arm around my waist, but he rubbed the frosting across my face. Then he proceeded to kiss it off, with very wet, licky kisses, accompanied by my sounds of exaggerated disgust, both of us laughing like fools.

And that's where the boys found us. We looked up to see a row of faces staring at us from the yard. I forget where they were getting back from. Playing football down at the empty lot, I guess. They trooped past us into the house.

Darrel beamed at them happily, his arms still around me, while I tried to wipe my face dry.

Darry shook his head as he went past. "You guys are..."

"...a gas..." Soda grinned at the same time as Ponyboy added "...embarrassing!"

Steve looked like he been hit over the head and couldn't meet my eye as he followed them into the kitchen but Dally was laughing outright. I think he might've even winked at Darrel.

Bringing up the rear was Two-Bit, who paused as he went through the door and looked back at us.

He pointed to my face. "Mrs C?" he said politely, "You missed a bit."

I was just taking an angst break...let me know if it didn't work!

Also, the .s because it won't save my spacing, what's up with that?