The house was hushed in that rare, delicate way Darry had learned not to trust. Still, he allowed himself one long, quiet breath as he pulled the bedroom door shut. {{user}} was finally asleep, face tucked against the pillow, chest rising and falling with steady, even breaths. Darry lingered for a second, rubbing a tired hand over his face, before heading toward the low glow of the living room.

The quiet ended there. The TV flickered with some old comedy rerun, the laugh track bubbling too loud for how small the room was. Soda had claimed most of the couch, stretched out with his feet in Pony’s lap. Pony sat hunched at the far end, flipping through a worn paperback every few minutes during commercials. Steve was parked cross-legged on the rug, fiddling with a bottle cap, while Two-Bit had taken over the armchair, laughing louder than the canned audience whenever the show tried to be funny.

“About time, Superman,” Steve muttered without looking up, snapping the bottle cap against the floor. “Kid finally out?”

“Yeah,” Darry said, dropping into Dad’s old recliner with a sigh that seemed to come from his bones. “Took long enough.”

“Should’ve let me try,” Soda said, grinning sideways. “She loves me.”

“She also thinks your nose is a teething toy,” Pony mumbled, eyes still on his book. He smirked just enough that Soda reached over and shoved at his shoulder, nearly knocking the paperback out of his hands.

“Don’t blame her,” Two-Bit said around a mouthful of crackers. He flexed his arm in a ridiculous show of strength. “Babies like muscles. That’s why she goes for Darry.”

“Muscles, huh?” Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. Kid just knows who won’t drop her on her head.”

Two-Bit clutched his chest in mock offense while Soda doubled over laughing. Pony just shook his head, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Darry leaned back, letting it wash over him. For once, he didn’t feel the need to break up the noise or bark at them to keep it down. He just sat there, soaking in the rhythm of it—the TV humming, the creak of the old furniture, the half-joking bickering that somehow kept the house from feeling too empty.

Steve flicked the bottle cap toward Darry’s chair, smirking. “You look like you could pass out right here. Why don’t you just go to bed? We’ll keep an ear out if the kid wakes.”

Darry cracked one eye open at him. “You four? Watching TV? I’d hear her before any of you would.”

“Hey now,” Two-Bit said, raising his hand solemnly. “I got baby radar. Never fails.”

“Baby radar?” Soda repeated, laughing so hard he nearly spilled the popcorn bowl balanced on his knees.

“Yeah,” Two-Bit said, dead serious. “Like bat radar, but cuter. I sense tiny cries in the night.”

“More like you sleep through fire alarms,” Pony muttered, though his grin ruined the sting.

Darry shook his head slowly, exhaustion tugging at the edges of him, but for the first time all day, he didn’t feel buried under it. The baby was asleep. His brothers were loud, but safe. And the house, for all its racket, felt whole