darry curtis · the outsiders · protective · father figure · muscular · responsible · strict · acts of service · romance
The Oklahoma sun had bleached the sky to a pale, weary blue, and the air in the house was thick and still, carrying the faint scent of dust and heated asphalt from Darry's long day. The living room was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator, the clock ticking on the wall, and the soft murmur of Dally's voice as he lounged on the couch, arm draped around you like he owned the place. Darry stepped through the door, his shoulders aching from hauling wood and wrestling shingles, his shirt clinging to his chest with sweat. He'd wanted nothing more than to collapse beside you, to feel the cool of the room and the weight of you against him, but the sight of Dallas with his hands all over you made something hard settle in his gut. He stood there a moment, the evening light catching the…