Request: Curtis request!!! Write about the Curtis Gang (or fam) and their sweet pet dog! It could be before or after the accident, up to you :)
@sixties-sodapop ! Hopefully it tags you this time. This prompt brought to you by the scene in The Outsiders movie where the family is visiting the country in Ponyboy’s dream, and they have a dog with them.
Warnings: I mean, it’s adorably cute, so if you have a problem with that, well, here’s your warning.
When Darrel Curtis Jr. woke up on Christmas morning, he looked out his bedroom window. The ground was dusted with white and the clouds above threatened to dump more snow on top of them.
Excitedly, he threw on some warm socks and quickly made his way to the front room. The snow reflecting in the morning light shone brightly, illuminating the entire room. Brightly wrapped presents sat under their decorated tree, the multicolored lights left on from the night before to help guide Santa to their house.
The glass of milk sitting on the coffee table was drained, and nothing but a few crumbs sat on the plate that he and Soda had left their homemade cookies on. They didn’t have a fireplace, but his mom had assured them every year that Santa definitely would come in through the front door instead. To check, Darry walked around the small table and sure enough- wet footprints led from the front door to the table, and over to the tree.
He almost squealed and took off running towards his parents’ room.
He jumped onto their bed, trying to wake them up.
“Mommy! Daddy!” he screeched, bouncing up and down on the mattress. He heard Ponyboy roll over in his crib and start getting fussy. “It’s Christmas! Wake up!” His mother reached out to calm his movement.
“Okay, okay, honey,” she said, sleepily. “We’re up.”
His father sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. He finally turned to his oldest son.
“Christmas you say, huh?”
“It can’t possibly be Christmas yet. I’m goin’ back to sleep.” When he dramatically made to lay back down, Darry tackled him.
“No!” he whined. “It’s Christmas! There are tons of presents under the tree! And Santa’s footprints are by the front door!”
Darrel Curtis Sr. caught his son as he was jumped on and laughed.
“Oh, well, in that case, I guess you’re right.” His dad slid himself out of bed and threw his blanket over Darry’s head.
“Hey!” he cried, trying to find his way out of the bedspread. He felt hands grasp his sides, tickling him. He started giggling, but it soon turned into squealing and he thought he was going to pee his pants. “Daddy, s-s-s-stop!”
Beside him, his mother chuckled.
The tickling stopped and he threw the covers off. His middle brother, Sodapop, was now standing in the doorway, bleary eyed, wearing one of Darry’s old shirts. It swamped him.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, trying to stifle a yawn.
“It’s Christmas, baby,” his mom answered as she was making her way over to Pony’s crib to pick him up.
Instantly, Soda was awake, his eyes wide.
“It’s Christmas?” he yelled. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”
His dad came around and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“We were gonna in a few minutes. Why don’t you any Darry go out to the tree and get everything ready while Mom changes Ponyboy?”
Instantly, Darry had his hand around his brother’s, forcefully pulling him to the front room. Not like he needed much encouragement.
Soda gasped when he saw the amount of presents under the tree, his big, brown eyes roving over everything. Darry released his brother’s hand and went to take the plate and glass into the kitchen.
By the time he’d returned, his father and mother were coming down the hallway.
Half an hour later, the living room was an explosion of bright paper, bows, and ribbon. Darry sat at the coffee table with a dress-up cowboy hat on his head, forcing his new Matchbox cars to ram into each other, making crash noises with his mouth. Soda sat by the tree, his new View-Master glued to his face and he clicked the button, making surprised “whoas” as the pictures circled around. Their mother sat on the carpet with Ponyboy between her legs, playing with a set of plastic keys and some wooden blocks.
His father pulled on his shoes and coat. The sly nod he gave his mom didn’t escape Darry’s notice.
“Where ya goin’?” he asked as the older man made his way to the front door.
“Oh, just a smoke. Be right back.”
The oldest Curtis brother shrugged it off until a few minutes later when his dad returned with one more large box, red and green decorations. Soda finally lowered his toy and looked up.
“Whoa, what is that?” he asked, his high-pitched voice loud and amazed.
His father set the box down on the floor in front of him and shrugged out of his coat. He laid it on the arm of the couch and knelt next to the box.
“Why don’t you and Darry come over and open it? It’s gonna take both of ya.”
The two brothers looked at each other and hopped up. They each took a side of the box.
“Okay, liiiiift,” his father dramatized, and they both pulled up. The oldest brother took the lid when it was off and toss it away from them.
Inside laid a little beagle puppy. It yawned, letting out a tiny little whine.
Darry could not believe his eyes. He and Soda had been begging their parents for months for a pet and he didn’t think they’d even budged on their stance.
“A dog!” his younger brother screamed and started jumping up and down, holding on to the top edges of the box.
Darry reached into and picked the puppy up, gently hugging him to his chest. His face turned hot and his eyes welled with tears. He sniffled.
“Was this a good Christmas, baby?” his mother asked, coming up behind him and taking a knee. She put a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, vigorously.
“T-thank you,” he said, his voice cracking. “He’s perfect.”
“Oh, honey,” she said and wrapped him in a loose embrace so they couldn’t crush the dog. “I’m so glad you’re happy.” He let out a half sob-half laugh and buried his face in her shoulder.
“What are ya gonna name him?” his father asked, moving the box closer to the tree. Darry pulled away from his mom and lifted the beagle so he could clearly see it’s face.
“I think John’s a good name,” he stated.
“Yeah, ya know.” He tipped his cowboy hat. “After John Wayne.”
His dad smiled from ear to ear.
“I think that’s a great name.”
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