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Johnny laid awake and stared at the cracked ceiling of Buck’s place. The more he stared at it and tireder he got the more clearly he could see it come crashing down on him while he laid on Dallas’ bed, struggling to stay up.
Dallas had disappeared downstairs to the bar about an hour ago, promising he’d be back soon and threatening to skin Johnny if he left to sleep outside in the lot. The Curtis’ were visiting some great aunt in Kansas, so when Johnny stumbled out of his house with a bloody nose and a quickly bruising black eye he figured he might as well try Dallas at Buck’s than curl up under some newspaper again.
Gingerly he brought a hand up to his nose and brushed it lightly, hissing at the slight sting that still came with it.
“Shit.”
When he looked down at his hand after pulling back, it came away bloody, and Johnny scrambled out of the bed to keep from getting it all over the sheets. Dallas had a crap bathroom that Buck had made out of a closet, and all they had in terms of first aid was rubbing alcohol and toilet paper.
It was enough though, and Johnny grabbed a fist full of toilet paper and pressed it against his trickling nose, tilting his head back as he did.
For some reason he really did feel like bolting. Dally was probably downstairs having a good time with some chick, the thought of which made Johnny’s chest tighten painfully but he pushed it down like always, and if he came back up with one Johnny’d have to leave anyway.
“Need to cut my goddamn hair,” he muttered to himself, blowing out an exhale upward to get his bangs out of his face. Carefully, he pulled the toilet paper off his nose and raised a finger to it, sighing in relief when it came back clean.
He flushed it down the toilet and figured if Dallas wasn’t back by now he’d probably gotten drunk enough to not remember Johnny even stopped by when he woke up tomorrow. Getting down on his knees, he pulled the hoodie out from under the bed that Dallas had tossed on the floor when he was checking his ribs and pulled it over his head.
The bed squeaked under his weight as he reached for his shoes, and he felt the sudden need to rush. It might have been a psychic thing actually, because he was just getting one sneaker on when the door was thrown open and Dallas stumbled in, alone thankfully.
Johnny felt his face heat up regardless. He’d been right about Dallas getting blitzed down there, because he didn’t even seem to see Johnny until he’d turned and fumbled to shut the door behind him, swaying a bit as he did.
“Hey Dally.”
Johnny’s voice was soft, he never hung around Dallas when he was drunk so he wasn’t quite sure what to do.
Dallas, to his credit, didn’t really seem sure of himself either, and he frowned and cocked his head at Johnny. “Where you goin’, kid?”
“Oh, well, I was gonna cut out,” Johnny stuttered out, eyeing Dallas carefully as he kicked off his shoes and started shaking his head jerkily. “I didn’t know if you was gonna have a girl up here or somethin’, and I don’t wanna get blood all over if this thing starts runnin’ again.”
He started to gesture to his nose when Dallas took a few steps forward and grabbed his wrist, moving it down with a clumsy carefulness that Johnny didn’t really expect.
“Nuh, uh.” Dallas’ words were coming out slurred and run together, and Johnny just stared as he grabbed his sneakers from his hands and tossed them back on the floor. “‘S cold out there, and ‘s no sweat, you're sleepin’ here. I don’ mind none, honest.”
“Alright, thanks, Dal.”
Dallas nodded again and sat down on the bed next to Johnny, leaning up against his side and focusing hard on the ground. Johnny started picking at the hem of his hoodie, not quite sure what to do with Dallas when he was like this. Put him to bed, maybe? The idea of anyone putting Dallas Winston to bed ended with them getting clobbered though, so maybe not.
Johnny jerked his head up when Dallas let out something between a wince and a groan, and he moved his hand to lay on top of Johnny’s and pick at the frayed edge of his hoodie.
“Were you,” Dallas said, pausing and closing his eyes. Johnny almost grinned. “Were you wearin’ this...before?”
“I was, but you took it off so you could check my ribs, ‘member? Make sure they wasn’t cracked or nothin’?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
Dallas rested his head on Johnny’s shoulder then and Johnny let out a small sound of surprise. “Are you, uh, are you fixin’ to maybe get some sleep, Dal? I could grab ya some water-”
“I fuckin’ hate your old man, John.”
Johnny stopped dead, and felt Dallas struggle to sit upright. He got it, and moved to sit cross legged facing Johnny. Eyes a little unfocused, he clapped a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “You should jus’ light out man, ya can hide out here. Buck ain’t gonna say nothin’, an’-an’ ya can get money from workin’ stables.”
Johnny let Dallas ramble on about living with him for a minute or so, forcing that feeling down deeper into his chest. It was hard though, when Dallas was going on and on about how they ought to just live together. He looked softer when he was drunk, too. There was less sharpness and less edge and Johnny really felt like he needed to get out of there.
“Johnny?”
At the mention of his name Johnny shook his head a little and looked at Dallas. He was frowning and scooted a little closer to Johnny on the bed. “Yeah?”
“I broke it off with Sylvia.”
“Oh, I’m real sorry, man. When ya do that?”
Dallas shook his head roughly. “I never even liked that fuckin’ broad, she was makin’ out with one of ‘em Brumley boys at the bar. Dumped her.”
The last two words had a finality, and Johnny bit his lip and gave a nod. “Aw, good for you man, she was a flake anyways.”
“Mhm,” Dallas hummed, and he was looking at Johnny carefully now, so carefully it was making Johnny squirm a little. “I ain’t goin’ with no one now, ya know?”
“Yeah I know, ‘cause you broke it off with Sylvia,” Johnny said slowly, holding out his hand when Dallas made a grab for it and yelping a little when Dallas grabbed it and pulled him forward hard. “Glory, Dallas.”
He’d landed more or less on Dallas’ chest, but since the older greaser could barely see straight he’d fallen back too. Johnny got sort of into a push up to try and get off Dallas when the older hood whined and pulled him back down.
This was sort of ridiculous, and once Johnny looked down at Dallas, scrabbling against his chest to try and shove him somewhere or another, he just burst out laughing.
“Don’ be mean, Johnny, s’not funny.”
Dallas sounding so sincere just made Johnny laugh harder, and he barely registered Dallas shoving him off to the side until he’d moved to clumsily balance himself on Johnny’s hips.
Catching his breath, he felt Dallas’ weight holding him down, and the familiar feeling of guilt sobered him up pretty quick.
“C’mon man, lemme up,” Johnny said, voice coming out breathier than intended on account of basically being wrestled down while he was a laughing mess. “You oughta get some sleep, you ain’t actin’ yourself.”
“I am myself, Johnny, I broke up with Sylvia.”
Dallas’ voice was firm and insistent, and it wasn’t like Johnny really minded any of this, he just knew Dallas was going to wake up tomorrow and avoid him like the plague for getting bombed and acting like this.
“What’s she got to do with anything?” Johnny asked finally, after the silence stretched on for a little too long, especially with Dallas staring at him the way he was.
Johnny knew what was going to happen before it did, but for whatever reason he let it happen, ignored the little voice of warning in the back of his head as Dallas leaned down and kissed him once, slowly. It wasn’t a fantastic kiss, either, their teeth brushed up against each other and their mouths didn’t line up perfectly, but it was better that way.
Slowly, Dallas pulled back, and his eyes were soft as he studied Johnny for a moment. “S’alright?”
Johnny, head laid back against the bed, eyes wide because it was, right now. It might not be in the morning.”
“Yeah, s’alright.”
Dallas grinned like an idiot above him, and Johnny decided to quit thinking about tomorrow so much, just for a second. His mind was getting foggy anyways.
Reaching down gently, Dallas brushed Johnny’s hair off of his face, and Johnny could never remember Dallas Winston being gentle with anything. Even girls, the way he grabbed at them and kissed them was far from gentle. He’d seen enough between him and Sylvia to expect roughness because Dallas Winston was rough.
“I broke up with Sylvia,” Dallas repeated, and his voice wasn’t rough at all and Johnny felt his chest swell up with happiness against his will.
“I know.”
“S’okay then, ‘cause it ain’t cheatin’,” Dallas figured, words dripping out like honey and sticking to Johnny because they felt that real. “And I ain’t a fag, ‘cause I like girls too ‘ven though I like you.”
Johnny forgot how young Dallas was sometimes, even if he was a year older than he was.
“S’right.”
“I liked Tim Shepard once, too.”
Dallas’ face didn’t change much when he said it, but Johnny felt his breath hitch. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, ‘nd he liked me just fine, s’like that.”
Johnny nodded, in the back of his quickly hazing brain he struggled to remember an old conversation with Ponyboy about how he and Curly Shepard made out when they got ripped once. They both liked girls just fine too. So did Dallas, and Tim Shepard. Johnny wasn’t so sure about himself, but it didn’t matter.
Propping himself up with his elbows, he watched Dallas’ expression carefully, tensed completely as he leaned in and kissed Dallas first. It took Dallas a second but he was kissing back, rougher than before, and boy he still was drunk because he had his fingers in Johnny’s hair and started half falling down, dragging the younger down so they were both laying on their sides.
They pulled apart once Dallas started giggling, and Johnny felt his face flush as Dallas gripped the front of his hoodie and pressed his face into it, inhaling deeply.
“I ain’t gettin’ back with Sylvia, not this time,” Dallas murmured, yawning right after and Johnny knew he’d be out soon. Hell, they both would, Johnny yawned himself as he felt his eyes start to droop.
“Solid.”
Dallas pulled his face out from Johnny’s hoodie and looked at him for a second. “We can- hic -we can go with each other, right Johnny?”
“Sure we can, Dallas.”
Satisfied with that answer, Dallas buried his face in Johnny’s neck and let out a sigh before Johnny felt his breathing even out. He was gripping Johnny’s shirt like a toddler, still, and their legs were tangled up together at the other end of the bed.
After a minute of shifting, Johnny got one arm under his head like a pillow, and the other thrown across Dallas’ neck. The hood leaned into the touch, and Johnny felt himself start to drift off.
Glory he wished they could sleep forever.
A groan in Johnny’s ear woke him up the next morning, and he squinted his eyes open only to slam them shut when he realized he had a face full of hair.
“What the…”
The night came back in a rush, and Johnny tensed without meaning to, feeling Dallas tighten the grip he’d gotten on Johnny during the night. Wriggling a little, he managed to get an arm free and move back enough to breath. Dallas had ended up pulling Johnny into his chest, with one arm curling over his neck and the other hanging over his back.
If he really wanted to he could leave, Dallas would be hungover enough that he could get away with it. The problem was he didn’t really want to. Dallas was warm and even though he had been running off at the mouth a lot last night, there had to be a chance he meant something, right?
Worst case scenario he freaked out and threw Johnny out. They’d maybe not speak for a few weeks but from what he now knew about Dallas and Tim Shepard that probably wouldn’t last too long.
While he was thinking about all this Dallas started stirring, and with a groan Johnny felt him blink tiredly and tense for a moment like Johnny had a minute or so ago.
Johnny squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for what felt like an hour, and finally Dallas relaxed, sober Dallas relaxed, and pulled Johnny a little bit closer.
“‘Mornin’.”
Dallas’ breath was warm against Johnny’s neck and Johnny plain forgot English for a few seconds before echoing Dallas.
They lay like that for a minute, Johnny reassured Dallas didn’t hate him, but still confused, before Dallas detached himself from Johnny and sat up. Moving to lean back against the headboard, he yawned and squeezed his eyes shut hard before reopening them and considering Johnny.
After a few seconds of staring that put a bemused expression on Dallas’ face, Johnny sat up too, biting the inside of his cheek as he sat cross legged and started picking at the sleeves on his hoodie.
“So, uh, ‘bout last night and everythin’. I get it if ya don’t wanna talk to me no more, or just wanna act like nothin’ happened-”
He was cut off by Dallas’ snort and a hand grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging him forward so he ended up on his side pressed up against Dallas’ own.
“I was drunk, I wasn’t that drunk,” Dallas said, voice laced with amusement as he, much to Johnny’s surprise, ran a hand through his hair softly. Not rough at all. “I ‘member sayin’ everything, nd’ I meant it.”
“Okay.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah,” Johnny answered quickly, still not really sure what he was supposed to do, or what anything that was happening really was.
Dallas shoved him a little so he was laying on his back, and slid down on the bed so he was right next to him. His hair was a mess, and he turned on his side and buried his head next to Johnny’s shoulder, throwing an arm across his chest as he did.
Johnny felt himself relax, and he decided again to ignore the warning in the back of his head, because Dallas was sober and he was falling asleep with an arm across Johnny’s chest and that voice could shove it.
“Johnny?”
Johnny blinked quickly and turned his head to see Dallas peeking out at him sleepily from underneath a blanket and his messed hair. “Yeah, Dal?”
“If you tell anyone ‘bout Tim Shepard he’ll knock your head clean off, and I’ll have to let ‘em, y’know?”
Johnny smirked despite himself as Dallas let his head fall back down. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’.”
“Good,” Dallas mumbled, and Johnny let himself start to doze off because Dallas’ voice was soft and he couldn’t remember why he used to think he was so rough at all.