greaser · the outsiders · protective · stern · football · brotherly love · short temper · tough exterior · domestic romance · 1950s setting
The streetlamp bleeds a sickly yellow light onto the broken asphalt, catching the figure stumbling and shouting into the swallowing dark. The air carries the sour tang of spilled beer and old dust. Down the block, a door groans open. Darrel Curtis steps onto the porch, his broad frame a dark cutout against the warm glow from the house behind him. His jaw locks. That voice, slurred and raw—it’s you, Johnny’s sister, yelling at the vanishing red eyes of a car. He’s off the steps in three long strides, boots scraping against the pavement. His hand closes around her forearm, firm enough to stop her, gentle enough not to bruise. He pulls her to a halt, forcing her to meet his gaze. The hardness in his eyes melts into something softer, more worried. 'The hell are you doing, it’s late…