1

The loud ring of the DX’s old doorbell snapped Steve out of his daze. He didn’t even look up before calling, “Welcome to the DX Sta—”

“I want a pack of cancer sticks,” Dallas’s voice cut in, lazy and loud. “And some matches.”

He wore that smug grin he always did, the one that made everything sound like a dare. Dally never asked for things—he just expected them. Steve was used to it by now.

“And some soda,” Ponyboy added as he wandered toward the back to grab a few bottles. Johnny trailed in quietly behind Dally, head down. Steve couldn’t get a clear look at his face, but there was a dark blotch under his eye that didn’t look good.

Steve rang up the cigarettes and matches, unfazed by Dally’s cold tone, and handed over the goods. He glanced over at Johnny, frowning.

“Did you put ice on that, Johnny?”

Johnny flinched slightly, startled by the question. “Oh—um, Dally did earlier,” he answered softly.

“I can give you a small bag of ice if you need it,” Steve said, already reaching for a bag.

“You don’t need to do that!” Johnny said quickly, his voice firmer this time.

Steve paused, then shrugged and kept filling the bag. “I want to. It’s just a little ice—don’t worry about it, man.”

Ponyboy came back with three sodas in hand. Steve passed the ice to Johnny, who glanced at Dally, then back at Steve, offering a small, grateful smile.

“Thanks, Steve,” he mumbled.

Steve nodded and gave a faint smile back. He pulled some bills from his own wallet and slipped them into the register for the ice and sodas.

“I brought my own money,” Ponyboy protested.

Steve waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Pony’s ears turned red just as Sodapop came strolling out of the office, a bright grin already spreading across his face.

“Didn’t know you guys were stopping by,” he said, ruffling Pony’s hair like it was second nature.

Pony groaned and swatted his hand away, quickly fixing the mess. Steve snorted. Soda never missed a chance—he knew Pony cared way too much about his hair.

They all talked for a bit, nothing too important, before Dally and Johnny wandered back outside. Soda and Pony drifted into their own world like they always did. Steve leaned against the counter, pretending to read the newspaper but mostly just zoning out.

---

“If you want, you can hang out here for a while,” Soda said as he returned to the register with a candy bar in one hand and peanuts in the other. “Steve clocks out in about an hour, but I’m on for a little longer. Got overtime.”

“Again?” Pony almost frowned.

Steve watched the way his expression shifted. He said he understood why they were working all the time, but Steve knew he missed his brothers.

Soda sighed, guilt flickering across his face. “Yeah, last one this week. I promise.” He offered Pony a small, half-hearted smile and paid for his snacks.

Pony fixed his hair again. “Okay, I guess I’ll stay for a bit.”

“Alright. You need to tell Dally and Johnny?” Soda asked, glancing out the window. The two were standing near Two-Bit’s car—Dally had clearly convinced him to loan it for the gas. Johnny had the ice pack wrapped in a red bandana, holding it against his face.

“Oh, probably should,” Pony said, grabbing two sodas to take outside.

Steve waited until the door closed behind him. “You know you’re working Sunday too, right? Why lie?”

Soda hesitated, then shrugged. “Sunday’s next week.”

Steve didn’t bite. “Soda.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his sun-drenched hair. “Yeah, I know he’ll be upset either way. I’m off Saturday. I’ll make it up to him.”

“What about Darry? How often’s he working?”

Soda’s jaw tensed. “What about him? He’s working half the time, and when he’s not, he’s either asleep or off with his secret girlfriend.”

Steve blinked. “Secret girlfriend?”

“Yes! I’ve asked where he goes when he’s off, and he gives me some vague, half-assed answer. I get it—he doesn’t owe me anything. But it feels like he doesn’t want to talk to me or Pony anymore.”

There was frustration in his voice, but more than that—there was hurt. This wasn’t about being mad. This was about feeling left behind.

Steve rested a hand on his shoulder. “Soda, I’m sure he’s just tired. You know how it is. You’ve been pulling doubles for weeks. He’s your brother. He wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

Soda gave a shallow nod. “I should get back to work. Let me know before you and Pony head out, alright?”

“Sure,” Steve said.

Soda patted him on the head as he walked back to the office. Steve squinted after him. “What is it with him and petting people?” he muttered.

---

A few minutes later, Ponyboy walked back in, arms resting on the counter, soda sweating in front of him.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, folding his arms.

Pony thought for a moment, breaking eye contact. “Uh... just a sandwich at school. Why?”

“You had breakfast too?” Steve raised a brow.

Pony sighed. “Yes. Why?”

Steve shrugged. “Just checkin’. I was thinking about getting some burgers before I take you home.”

Pony took a sip of his soda, burped, then grinned. “A burger sounds good to me.”

Steve watched him for a second—messy hair, tired eyes, smile still hanging on like it belonged there. He nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Figured it might.”