knit pony

staying the night | p.c.

a/n : guess who’s back? be prepared. btw poner is 16/17 in this :)) —requested.

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I accept that Pony won’t take the bed, but feel bad about it because I know sleeping on the floor isn’t comfortable.

“Y/N?” I hear him whisper, the only sound to be heard in the dark bedroom. “Are you awake?”

My heart pounds at the sound of his voice. “Yeah, I am. Hey, thanks for letting me stay here tonight, Ponyboy, really.”

It’s like I can hear him shrugging. “It’s not like you knew your friend would get that drunk at the party,” he sort of laughs. “It’s not a problem. You’re, ah, welcome any time.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” I wonder, adjusting the shirt he gave me to wear. Then, I pull the blankets past my shoulders because they’re so soft.

“No reason,” he tries. It’s so unconvincing and I know he’s hurting, laying on the floor with a few thin blankets. “I’m fine — I’ll get to sleep eventually.”

“Pony, come up here.”

I don’t look at him, and it makes it harder for him to reject my offer.

“C'mon, Pony. I’ll still sleep fine, I promise. How about I kick you out if I don’t?”

I’m praying he’ll accept my offer. The thought of being so close to Ponyboy is electrifying. Being in his bed, sharing the same space.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach and tingles shoot up my body starting at my feet.

He gets up ungracefully, making a lame attempt to fold the blankets on the ground.

Ponyboy tries to be careful sliding under the covers next to me.

“We could sleep in. You know Darry gets up real early for work. He won’t bother us none. And Soda’s got work, too.”

I nod, and wonder if things are supposed to feel so tense when you really like someone.

But it’s dark, quiet, and plain. All I can hear are my racing thoughts and I want to know if it’s the same for Pony.

I want to know if he keeps reliving our time dancing tonight in his mind.

“What is it? I promise you.”

Ponyboy runs a hand through his hair, bites his lip. His foot touches mine under the comforter and we both twitch, he moves his.

“Two-Bit and them’re gonna tell you somethin’ but it ain’t true, okay? W-Well, an exaggerated version of the truth.”

My eyebrows knit. “What is it, Pony? Tell me. You’ve got to tell me — you know I hate when people start like that and don’t continue.”

He lets out a deep, uneasy chuckle and warns me to be quiet. “Two-Bit has it in his head that I’m in love with you, and that I wanna marry you.

So, I figured I’d tell you before he had, um, a chance so you wouldn’t get, ah, scared off or nothing. Or get the wrong idea.”

“Is it all lies?” I blurt before I can stop myself. But I want to know, so I continue. “Like, is what he said based off any truth?”

Pony shifts a little. We’re still facing each other in the big bed. It’s not a huge bed, but it’s bigger than mine. A few inches between our noses. “I kind of really like you.”

“Kind of?” I question, daring to inch closer to him.

He swallows and rolls his eyes at himself. “A lot,” he says with a smile.

I press my lips to his quickly. They connect for a second, and he pulls away.

“I’ve been wanting to do that forever,” I admit.

He isn’t repulsed, quite the opposite. Ponyboy hovers over me while still remaining next to me, kissing me with a ton of passion.

When I’d dream of us kissing, I’d always picture me taking the lead. Never Pony. But here he is, kissing me like he does this every day. Does he? No way.

I pull Pony’s bottom lip between mine and he flinches, making a noise. He really loves me doing that.

My best friend may have gotten totally drunk tonight, but I can’t say she’s useless. She’s the one who taught me that. Not, like, to me, but — you know what I mean.

Ponyboy draws my attention back to him when he does this amazing thing with his tongue. I don’t mean to be graphic, but the way he makes me feel is just indescribable.

We part as his hands push the loose, thick fabric of the old tee-shirt up around my belly button. A warm hand finds my bare hip under the comforter and he massages it, tracing circles onto the flesh with his thumb.

I stare into his bright eyes as his hand smoothly glides from my bone to my lower back and backside, pushing me flush against his sweatpants.

“Don’t be loud,” he whispers teasingly, a cocky but cute grin gracing his lips.

I run my hand through his hair, pulling on it a little as his hand keeps me pressed against him. He groans and his lips find my neck. I run my hand along his back under his shirt.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this —” he murmurs into my neck. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I,” I take in a breath.

I hear something, but Pony’s lips connect with mine again and I can’t move — I don’t want to move and, really, nothing else matters.

Until the door opens. And I see Soda and Steve standing there with huge grins illuminated by the hallway light.