Work Text:
On a scale of one to fucked up, this night was at a four. Definitely not the best of experiences but one that only resulted in a slap, a shove, and a kick on the ass as Johnny fled from his house. There wasn’t a fresh bruise in sight when he knocked silently as he could on the window at Buck’s place. A personal achievement of sorts for the sorry kid.
Dally had just gotten his job thanks to Buck, was stilling getting his feet under him, and Johnny couldn’t help but feel guilty that going to him for help could risk getting him in trouble. As he stumbled to Buck’s, however, those thoughts quickly vanished. All Johnny could think about was Dally.
He needed Dally. Just to open this window and peer out at him and do that thing where he clicks his tongue, where his voice gets all soft, and he mutter “Aw, JohnnyCakes” all soft under his breath. That’s all he needed tonight to make everything better. All he ever needed.
November in Oklahoma got cold. A lot colder than people ever seemed to expect. Johnny never minded the cold too much, but he was starting to. Standing outside this window shivering worse than drowned rat. Drowned rat? Pony had always been the poetic one.
“Dally?” He half-whispered, half-yelled as he knocked on the window once more. And, like the seven knocks before that, he was met with no answer.
Which meant one of two things: Dally was out casing a joint or he was drunk. Scratch that, three possibilities cause if he was drunk there was a sure chance some girl was getting lucky tonight.
Tonight was only a four, so Dally having time to live his life was fine. Completely fine. Everything was going to be fine.
Johnny wrapped his torn jean jacket tighter around him. The wind was picking up, biting at his ears and nose. A snow storm would be blowing in soon. No doubt about it. Nothing too crazy, just enough to ensure that Johnny’s spot in the lot would be inhabitable for the next few weeks.
His teeth rattled with every step away from Buck’s house. Johnny took his bottom lip between his teeth. It didn’t help, just made him start chewing on the inside of his cheek until it bled.
He didn’t want to make that long walk back to his house. If his dad was still up, sneaking in would be a sure way to bring this night from a four to a fucked up.
There was always the lot. Another draft worked it’s way around Johnny’s hunched frame. His shoes scuffed the sidewalk with every step. Everything in his being urged himself to sit down and cry. The cold, dark lot on a starless night like this almost made dealing with his dad seem worth it.
Johnny was used to the dark. It didn’t bother him. The noises in it, on the other hand, scared him shitless. Every rustle of a tree branch set him on edge. Leaves blowing by made him jump. The heavy steps from behind him sent his hand straight for the switch blade he kept on hand. The scar on his left cheek itched.
“JohnnyCakes?”
Thank god.
“Dal?” He turned around, stuffing the blade back into his pocket. “You can’t go around scaring me like that.”
Dally was already up on him. It was late enough at night- or early enough in the morning depending on how you looked at it- where he had no hesitation to wrap his arms around Johnny and lead him back towards Buck’s. The body heat was welcomed. The strong smell of booze was not.
“I’m sorry,” Dally said. “I was passed out and didn’t realize you came by until Buck practically throttled me for not answering. How long were you standing out there?”
Johnny flinched. He’d managed to do exactly what he’d been avoiding. “Is he mad?” Dally shook his head slowly. Fingers brushing the nape of Johnny’s neck to make him shiver. “Stop that,” he sighed, but the corners of his lips couldn’t help pulling into a smile.
Any excuse to pull the two of them closer. Even if it was a shiver Dally had manufactured himself. Dally did just that, tucking Johnny even closer to him. Any more and they’d be tripping over one another.
“Was it real tuff tonight?” He asked in a clipped tone. Johnny shook his head. “Man, I’m not playin’, JohnnyCakes. If I take one look at you will I see any new marks?” Another vehement shake of his head.
Dally, clearly, wasn’t convinced. He grabbed Johnny by the shoulders, spun him around, and caught his chin by his finger tips. There wasn’t much light to work with. No moon. Only the shaky yellow light of a streetlight half a block away. Dally’s face got closer and closer as he tilted Johnny’s head this way and that.
Johnny wrinkled his nose. “How much did you have to drink?”
A smile so pure and excited spread across Dally’s face that Johnny’s knees went weak. If he wasn’t already being propped up in his one of his closest friends- what a label they’d settled on- he would’ve melted straight to the ground. “Concerned about me JohnnyCakes?”
“Ain’t I usually?”
“Buck and I split a case. I slept most of it off.”
Johnny let out low whistle. “No wonder you smell like the bottom of a bar.”
“And here I was thinking I’d invite you next time.” His face was dangerously close to Johnny’s again. Noses just a hair apart. Breeze barely able to pass through the space between them. “Not interested in spending a night drinking with me JohnnyCakes?”
He brought his hand up to grab the hand trapping his chin. “Are you satisfied?” He asked. The only mark on his face was the remnants of a week old bruise just below his right cheekbone. “He hasn’t got his hands on me in a week.”
A little white lie never hurt anyone. “I don’t like you lyin’ to me, man.” Except for Dallas Winston apparently. “Your lip’s bleeding.”
“That’s my own fault. I bit it to keep my teeth from chattering.”
Dally swiped a thumb over his bottom lip, wiping away blood, and brushed his own lip over Johnny’s mouth. A ghost of a kiss. A boundary not even drunk Dally could bring himself to cross.
“What’s the number?”
“Four.”
Dally pulled back slightly to let his gaze bounce around Johnny’s face one last time. “If he hasn’t been hitting on you, why so high?”
“I let myself think it would last.”
Johnny took Dally’s hand, brought his fingers to his lips, and pressed a small kiss onto the pads of each one. Then, like always, Dally pressed his fingertips against his own lips. A kiss for two people too damaged to let themselves truly be happy.
“I have to finish high school, Dal.”
“Not in that house, man.”
“If I leave, he starts hitting on my Ma.”
Dally winced. The soft “JohnnyCakes” escaped him again. Too caring, too gentle. Johnny pushed passed him and started walking again, but without there was no pressing body heat to keep the cold November air at bay. The shivers caught up, more violent than before.
“Not like she cares what I do for her,” Johnny added. The fear of his current reality settling deeper than he’d allowed it the last few days. “She lets it all happen. The old man takes pride in what he can say about me. How fast he can kick me out. And she doesn’t do a damn thing.”
Buck’s came back into view. Dally was still a few paces behind him.
“Lately it’s been manageable. For just a minute tonight I thought everything was going to go fine. He came in drunk, turned to me, and spit in my face. Ma came running in. I thought she would say something.
“She looked like she was going to say something. And she didn’t. She just turned and walked away, like I wasn’t worth her time. Why would she have me if I wasn’t worth her time, Dal? What did I do?”
Dally caught up in two strides. Arms back around Johnny in an instant. Blocking out the cold and the fear and all the bad thoughts. Nothing mattered. On days it was a one or a four or even fucked up Dally could always make the world melt away.
“Why did I let myself believe?” Johnny turned to bury his face in Dally’s neck.
In the morning he was surely going to replay this moment over and over. Dying a little more of embarrassment each time. Even on nights where he was beaten so bad walking felt like he was being pulled part he’d never thrown himself into Dally’s arms. Dally had never thrown himself on him either.
The longer this, their confiding in one another, went on, the more reckless they were going to become. Sooner or later this was going to crash and burn. Someone was going to end up dead, or wishing for it.
“Because,” Dally murmured against the shell of Johnny’s ear. “You’re all that’s good in this world.”
They stood like that for a while. Long enough for Johnny to lose feeling in his toes. Then Dally lead him to Buck’s and they shuffled into the house, quiet as a mouse and a drunk guy could be. Johnny only tripped twice. Dally moved like he’d lived here all his life.
“C’mon,” he whispered. Taking the opportunity to slip his hand into Johnny’s and tug him along.
They slipped into the room Dally was borrowing. Johnny tugged his hand away, stepping in to examine what his eyes could make out in such little light as Dally closed the door. Cramped with clothes strewn all about. There was a collection of stolen cigarettes lined up on the desk shoved in the corner. “You’ve been casing places without me?” Johnny couldn’t help but ask.
Dally came up behind him. Strong hands tugged the jean jacket off Johnny’s frame. “It’s late,” was all Dally said.
They kicked off their shoes, Dally pulled his shirt off over his head, and Johnny avoided eyeing his torso as much as possible. He didn’t do a very good job. All Dally did was chuckle and tug Johnny onto the bed.
“Do you have class tomorrow?” He asked, positioning himself so that his back was against the wall and Johnny was flush against his bare chest. Their legs tangled together in the sheets. Johnny nodded. “Are you going?”
He shrugged. “If I don’t sleep through it, maybe.”
Dally didn’t answer. His fingers were playing with Johnny’s hair. A gesture he knew would knock Johnny out in minutes. He’d been the one to say it was light, but Johnny hadn’t seen a hint of exhaustion on Dally’s face as they’d settled into bed.
He, on the other hand, was dead on his feet by the time he’d gotten to Buck’s the first time. Between the cold and the confession and wracking his brain as to why Dally was being so, so affectionate, Johnny was ready to pass out. The bed was so warm. Dally was so warm. And his eyelids were heavy, too heavy to keep open anymore.
“Dal?” He whispered only to be met with a small hum against his greasy hair as a response. “Thank you.”
The mumble was barely audible. Exhaustion kicked in fast, tuckered him out, and evened his breathing. The warmth. The safety. Johnny in Dally’s arms. That’s all he needed to make this night go from a four to a one.
“JohnnyCakes,” Dally whispered. In the way that made Johnny’s heart skip a beat. Except this whisper cracked right before he could reach the “Cakes.” Something was wrong. But everything felt too warm, too safe for him to force himself awake.
“JohnnyCakes,” Dally whispered. In the way that made Johnny’s heart skip a beat. Except this whisper cracked right before he could reach the “Cakes.” Something was wrong. But everything felt too warm, too safe for him to force himself awake.
Another unanswered whisper. There was so much pain in his voice. Thick words that got caught in his throat. Too much emotion, thanks to the half pack of beers he’d downed no doubt.
There was silence. As much silence as the shaky breathing of a drunk man could give. Johnny was just drifting off, letting the deep claws of sleep dog into him, when he felt it.
Rain.
A single drop on his cheek, rolling down and down until it dripped off his chin. No, that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be raining. He was almost entirely certain he’d fallen asleep indoors. In Dally’s arms. An experience uncommon enough that maybe he had dreamed it.
Another raindrop. Then another.
Drip drop right down Johnny’s cheeks.
If it wasn’t rain, then was he crying? There was no way. He hadn’t cried for quite a few weeks. Everything was numb. Nothing could cut deep.
A sob wracked his body. But that wasn’t quite right either. It wasn’t his body that was shaking in quiet, seething pain. It was the body pressed up against him.
Dally?
“Go back to sleep, JohnnyCakes.” He must have said that aloud. “Everything is alright. I got you.”
“Don’t cry.” Johnny attempted to push himself over. He wanted to look in his eyes. See the tears for himself. Dallas Winston didn’t cry. “Please. I don’t want you to cry.”
“I can’t help it.” Dally took a shuddering breath. “You always make me cry.”
A breathy chuckle escaped Johnny, the sound making Dally laugh as well. “You need to work on your game.”
“Well it’s gotten you in bed with me hasn’t it?” The comment made Johnny flush. “Aw don’t get all weird on me JohnnyCakes. Go back to sleep.”
The arm around his waist tightened its hold, pulled him closer, and a pair of lips pressed softly against the nape of his neck. The whole time, the tears kept hitting his skin.
Dallas Winston didn’t cry, but when he did it was over Johnny Cade.