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Dallas Winston strides down the street toward the abandoned lot with the fiery purpose of a man who is righteously pissed off. It took Darry five goddamn days to ask him if he's seen Johnny. Says Ponyboy is worried something awful about him. Hasn't shown up to school, wasn't in the lot last night or the night before.
Dal admittedly didn't hear much after that on account of the roaring in his ears. But the point remains he's the kid's - something and they shoulda told him he wasn't crashing on their couch.
If he had been around the Curtis's Dally supposes he'd have seen for himself but -
It was hard. He didn't know what to do with the teasing grins and pet names anymore. He was too obvious. It was too much, too good. Maybe it wasn't right, but he knew it happened. Seen it with more than a few cheerleaders. Hell, he'd even messed around with Tim once or twice. He knew there was a world where he could hold everything he wanted in his fucking hands if he wasn't such a goddamn coward.
It's not quite dark and already frost littered the ground in sparkling patches. If that kid was sleeping out here like this he'd kill him. 'Course being in his own bed wasn't much better. His place and the Curtis's couch were fine, Johnny didn't need to go anywhere else, thank ya very much.
Dal sees him, leaning up there under a tree, the only thing separating him from the frozen pavement a ratty old car seat with a spring busted through the middle.
"Johnny!" He snaps, feet slapping the ground with more force as his anger mounts. And then melts. Because when Johnny turns to look at him he has two black eyes, one just startin' to swell and the other startin' to fade, plus a jaw so swollen he's nearly shocked.
A new kind of rage fills Dallas's veins. He thinks he might end up killing Johnny's dad tonight.
"Christ you dummy," he hisses, crouching in front of him and reaching for his chin. But Johnny only ducks his head out of reach, a blush flushing whatever unbruised skin he has.
"Leave me be, Dal," he mumbles, the words heavy and sloping.
A hot spike of irritation drags its nails down Dallas's back and his hand is much more insistent as it snags in Johnny’s bangs, forcing his face to still, not rough but not exactly gentle, "Don't tell me what to fucking do,"
Dally angles him this way and that. The bruises on his jaw are fresh and already they look nasty. He's so damn mad a tremor wracks through his hand before he has the sense to drop it.
Johnny's shaking too only he's just cold. Fucking frozen, the dumbass.
"Where the fuck have you been?"
Johnny won't look him in the eye, even when he answers, "Around."
"Not at the Curtis's though, huh?" Dal bites back. It's like the kid's forgotten who he's talking to. Thinks he can fuckin' lie?
Johnny hums and leans away from him, almost side-eyeing the rage in his eyes but not quite. That look keeps Dal's hands soft as they grab at the kid again, this time aiming to get him on his feet.
"You stay away 'cause of that?" He asks, gesturing with his free hand to the abused flesh of his face.
Johnny shrugs a shoulder, let's Dal take most of his weight, "Guess I get tired. Of makin' everyone worry. Being the group charity project ain't always fun and games Dally,"
"Shut up," He doesn't mean it seriously but the kid stops talking until they're only a block from Darry's. Johnny pulls free of his arm, one leg buckling below him just a bit - so the bastard got him in the knee - as he says, real quiet, "I don't want to go in man. I'll go back home, I won't sleep in the lot I swear, I know it's too cold and -"
"Jesus Christ you ain't goin’ back home like this,"
"What's he gonna do? Gimme a third black eye?" The kid's words are kinda slurred and all Dal can think of is how badly he wishes it were from liquor.
"Knock it off," He warns and this time Johnny must see how serious he is. His shoulders go up around his ears.
"Please," He says. Still real quiet. Almost begging and Dallas really, really doesn't like how that makes him feel.
"Alright, I'll bite. What happened at Darry's?"
Johnny's eyes go all big and Dal knows he's got him. If he wasn't so beat to shit he'd look adorable.
He still does. Just only to Dal.
"Nothin',"
"I don't know where you're getting off lying to me all of a sudden pal but that ain't how this works," Dallas growls, feeling very much like all the nasty things people think about when his name comes to mind.
Johnny sways on his feet but scowls all the same. Dangerous . He wants to play this all dangerous, sharp edges and cutting blows. He's hurting and he wants the world to hurt with him.
Fair enough.
"Who the fuck put you in charge?" Johnny spits.
Anyone else.
If it were any other person on this planet Dally would've decked 'em by now. His hands itch with the urge.
But this was Johnny Cade. Untouchable in more ways than he could count. His Johnny Cade. And that was the problem too wasn't it? Johnny was his and he didn't know it. Not yet.
Dallas is goddamn terrified of the moment when Johnny says "no". When he loses his imagined hold on the kid.
"You don't want to stay at Darry's, you can sleep on the floor in my room." Dal says stiffly, "Those are your options."
They walk in silence up until Johnny has to make a choice. The way he limps is obvious now and Dal has the strangest urge to drop to his knees before Johnny, to wrap his fingers around the ache and just fix it somehow.
"I overheard him 'n Soda talking about heatin’, y'know bills 'n shit. They're behind - so behind - and - I know it's 'cause I've been staying over more and I can't - can't do that to them they could have Pony taken away if they - y'know - it's not - not fair."
Dal whistles low. Johnny jerks further away from him, sits right down on the icy sidewalk and cradles his head in his hands.
"So you went back home instead," he muses, sitting beside the kid. Close enough for their shoulders to brush, "And the asshole beat the shit out of you,"
"Same old story, Dal. I'm familiar," When he talks like that, all quiet and dry he almost sounds like Ponyboy.
"You know I'd get those boys money if they ever really needed it," If it was something as dire as keeping the Curtis brothers together or keeping Johnny safe there wasn't much Dallas wouldn't be willing to do.
"Yeah?" Only it's all muffled from his hands. Dallas has the absurd desire to hear his own voice muffled by those hands.
"Yeah," Dallas hesitates, "Don't hide next time some shit worries you babe. Tell me about it instead,"
Johnny guffaws at him, finally meeting his eyes, "Stop actin' like you're some sorta mob boss, you ain't gonna fix all my problems. And I don't want ya to,"
Dal quirks a brow at that, "But if it was some handsome mob boss oho then he could solve it all couldn't he?"
Johnny flushes scarlet again and Dallas tries not to laugh as he splutters, "S'not what I meant Dally."
"Guess I don't see what difference it'd make if I was a mob boss or not but I'll get to work on it if you really want me to, hell I knew ‘nuff of ‘em in the city," He offers Johnny a cigarette and a teasing grin.
He takes a few drags before trying to correct himself anymore, "I just meant - it ain't like you can magically solve everything. If you coulda you woulda by now,"
Dallas glares at him, at his ability to see through people so easily. Or maybe it's just Dallas.
"My place then?" He offers, eyes still narrowed at the shivering kid.
"My folks - well they’re both already asleep, so I can sneak in and they won't even -"
"'Oh they won't even know Dally'," He mocks, too tired of this same argument and too cruel to be what Johnny deserves, "'But then I'll fall asleep for too long 'cause I'm a jackass who hasn't slept in days and they'll kick the shit out of me come morning!'"
Johnny gives him an unimpressed look, "I don't sound like that."
Dal gets himself a cigarette. And then another. He's gonna start a third - two can play the stubborn silent game - when he realizes Johnny’s shivers have ramped up to full-blown shaking. His glare is automatic again and Johnny sighs when he talks, "You get all that outta ya?"
Like Dallas is the one being childish. Johnny sees the look he gives in the barely-there streetlamp light and mutters a hasty, "Guess not,"
He watches as the kid's chattering teeth sink into his lip, tearing at the soft skin until Dal finds himself waiting for the moment when he draws blood.
Abruptly, disturbed by his turn of thoughts, Dallas shoves up onto his feet and seizes Johnny by the scruff of his coat. It’s easy - too easy damn it he needs to shut up and eat when Dal tells him to - to pull him up and steer him in Buck’s direction. He knows from experience that Johnny will just sneak out if he drags him to Darry’s. Whenever the kid gets it in his head that he’s a burden it’s close to impossible to keep him near. Usually, it’s only for a day or two but this seemed worse somehow. Not just physically.
It had been a very long time since Johnny couldn’t look Dal in the eyes.
The more they walk the more tired Johnny looks and Dal slips his arm back around the brunet. Just to steady him. An ugly lie. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Contemplates that all the way up the steps to Butch’s.
He watches as Butch takes in the kid’s face, the battered stubbornness, sees how impressed he is that Johnny’s still on his feet. Dallas doesn’t much like that look and he wastes little time in spooking it off Butch. He pins him to his side of the hall with a cold stare, hand fisting possessively in the fabric of Johnny’s coat. Right above his heart.
Johnny grumbles under his breath the whole way down the hall, hell he’s still complaining when Dallas forces him to sit on the edge of his bed, but it’s only when he mumbles something about how Dal really shoulda left him alone again that his temper slips its leash.
“Told ya to knock it off,” He warns, and since when does Dallas Winston give people one warning let alone two?
He crouches in front of Johnny once more, rummaging under the bed for the first aid kit he’d stolen on a whim not too long ago. He knew this was why he’d grabbed it but part of him, a stupidly hopeful little bit, wanted to never use the damn thing. Not until Soda or Steve or hell even himself needed it after a scuffle with a soc at least.
But it was always going to be Johnny. He’d known it forever, if Dallas felt like being honest with himself.
He sits back on his heels, notes Johnny’s got his head tipped down into his hands again. Like it’ll split apart if he lets it go.
“Lemme see your leg,” Dal whispers, that morbid fascination to see how bad it could hurt rearing up.
Johnny looks at him. His face is much rougher with the lights on. Dally isn’t surprised he didn’t want to go to the house like this. Darry and Sodapop would fuss something awful and Pony and Steve and Two-Bit would look at him all sad and Dallas - well Dallas would get angry.
Maybe Johnny was tired of Dallas' anger.
Too fucking bad. He has so much of it.
"Leg's fine, Dal,"
But now he's got an inkling of dread low in his gut too. Johnny's got a stubborn streak, sure. But not when it comes to Dally. Johnny would do anything he said in a heartbeat. That's how he keeps him safe goddamnit.
"Johnny. Why ya doin' this?" He keeps his voice low. Not soft but somethin’ like it. Puts his hands on the tops of Johnny's knees real lightly. And the way Johnny looks then - oh lord he looks like he's about to cry and nothing on earth has ever prepared him for a crying Johnny Cade.
"Sorry Dally," he says then, like he means it.
Dallas takes it as permission to begin rolling up the cuff of his pant leg, fingers deft and smooth to avoid jarring anything. And yeah, it's bad. Swollen, angry skin, twisting up and around his knee. Already purplin’. Knocked the damn thing a good one.
He grits his teeth and imagines shattering each of that fucker's kneecaps. Nice and slow. His fingers too. Fuck they’d snap so pretty under his boots.
Slow and steady. In and out.
"Leg's fuckin' fine though, right?" Dallas spits viciously. He's angry - he's so fucking angry it hurts - head whipping up so that when he snarls the kid can see it. But Johnny fucking flinches and Dally wishes he'd shut the fuck up, gone and found some ice.
It's all so wrong. Johnny flinching away from Dally. Johnny hasn't flinched from Dallas in years. Not like this. He knows Dallas would never hurt him. Hasn't he proven that at least?
It was bad. It was bad and it wasn't just physical - who knows what they tell him while they’re beatin’ on him? - and Dallas wants to kill Johnny's fucking family and he can't and it's so fucking unfair.
He drops his hands, sits up on his own knees so that he can look Johnny in the eye proper when he says, "You gotta stop telling me you're fine, ya got that? You and lying to me don't belong in the same sentence,"
Maybe the way he's harping about it is childish, but fuck it if Dally doesn't feel exactly seventeen for once.
Johnny rolls his eyes. Then he squints down at Dallas all intense like, almost glaring at the point where Dally's hands have come to rest on his knees again. He's about to move 'em - clearly they're so fuckin' offensive man - when -
"You got real nice hands, Dal," Johnny tells him. His tongue sounds thick in his head and Dallas wants to kiss his stupid mouth more than he ever has before.
"Why thank ya babe," He tries not to smirk, really he does, thumbs unconsciously swiping over the tops of Johnny's thighs. His heart tattoos the inside of his ribcage.
Johnny likes his hands.
"They ain't good enough to patch you up though?" He teases, disguising the very real question under his humor.
Johnny looks like he socked him in the gut at that, guilt and shock blowing bruising eyes wide once more, "No of course not, that's not why I'm -"
"'Why you're bein' so difficult'? So you admit it then eh?"
Johnny tenses up like he's gonna argue and Dallas chews his cheek to hide a grin. But the kid deflates just as quick. He only starts talking after Dal's thumbs trace a few little circles into his legs.
"God, Dallas, I'm just - every damn day I'm just waiting for it."
There's something despondent enough about the kid's voice that Dallas folds himself next to him on the little bed, fingertips trailing lightly down his back.
"For what?" Dangerous.
"For something to start. For someone to get mad at me. For the gang to get sick of me. For uh, for you to. I'm so fucking pathetic, all I do is wait Dal,"
He hears it. Hears the raw agony and honesty, the truth to his words. Sees the exposed nerve his father must've jabbed at.
He thinks they wanna get rid of him. Thinks Dallas is gonna get sick of him.
"And the way I sit around all day and night thinking about it and waiting for it? It's like I want it to happen, like I'm some sorta idiot who - "
Dallas shushes him because he just fucking can’t hear any more talk like that. Slips his arms around him tight and fucking squeezes.
"I couldn't get sick of you Johnny," he mumbles into a crown of dirty brown curls, "Never."
Johnny makes an awful sound against his chest and Dallas makes yet another silent promise to himself that he's gonna fucking try for Johnny. He can't be good but maybe he could be good to Johnny.
"You will someday but I won't - " a stuttering kind of breath that prompts Dal to run his hands down the kid's side, "I won't be mad. I just don't want it to happen is all,"
Dallas feels a sickness in his stomach now. Here he was thinking he'd been so crystal clear about everything for once. He wants to laugh but if he laughs he's gonna puke.
"See it's stupid. That's why I told ya to leave me alone. Damn it Dally, why'd ya wanna make me talk so bad?" Fear and anger sharpen Johnny's tone and Dal knows he needs a response quick or else the kid's gonna try ‘n bolt. It’s not like Dallas would let him but he didn’t want him trying to run on that leg.
"I promise I ain't gonna get sick of ya," He murmurs. It's true. He won't ever get sick of Johnny. He could spend every second of every day with him and something would still be itching to stay a little longer, "Not gonna run or do somethin' stupid."
Johnny pulls out of his embrace, suspicious eyes roving over Dallas' face and finding only sincerity.
"I don't ever wanna hurt you, Johnny," A truth. A truth and a secret and a confession.
"You can't just - " he starts, but Dally is tired of Johnny telling him what he can and can't do. Dallas grabs Johnny by the chin firmly and leans in close, so fucking close there can be no mistaking his intention.
Dal's always been real good at crossing lines.
But it's Johnny that pushes up, crashing their lips together none too gently. He's quick to take control, cards his fingers through Johnny's hair and holds his head right where he wants it. One of Johnny's hands entwines itself with his free one, his other cupping the side of Dally's face so goddamn sweetly he wants to cry.
He pulls back only when Johnny makes a breathless noise, but Dal's mouth doesn't go far. He drags it over the uninjured half of Johnny's jaw, planting open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Nipping at his pulse point earns him the softest groan and what do ya know it just so happens to be Dallas Winston's new favorite sound.
It's only when Johnny tries to toss a leg into Dally's lap that he realizes this is maybe not the best idea.
It's the best idea he's ever had, easy. But the pained noise the kid makes as he jostles his knee is one of Dallas' least favorite sounds. So he pulls back, presses a gentle kiss to either corner of Johnny's soft soft mouth, and says, "You gonna let me take care of ya now?" It makes the blood rush to his cheeks, saying it out loud, but it's worth it for the way Johnny smiles.
"Unless I can convince ya to go back to what you were doin'," He trails off, eyeing Dal with a look that's too damn seductive. He shoves back a pang of jealousy.
Who the fuck's the kid been practicing on?
"How 'bout this," Dally says, kneeling in front of Johnny again and giving him a look of his own, blinking up from under his lashes and running his tongue over his bottom lip. He’s gratified when Johnny's eyes track the motion, lookin' something like a starving dog, "You let me clean ya all up, you can share the bed with me?"
Johnny pales just a bit and Dally curses himself for not thinking that one through. He tries to fix it, "Just to sleep, Johnny. It's late and you're hurting and I - I don't want anything ."
Johnny winces at that too and his eyes drop back to his hands real quick.
What if it’s a mistake what if Johnny regrets it what if Dal fucked it all up what if what if what if?
Panic makes Dallas violent, always has. He raps his knuckles sharply on the bed frame, forces out an almost cutting, "Kid if you don't gimme something to go on I'm gonna think I just did a real bad thing, "
"I'm the one who did it Dal," Johnny corrects with a stupid scowl, "And it wasn't a bad thing. Not to me at least," he adds, all uncertain 'n quiet like Dallas is about to laugh at him.
"Good,"
"Just good?"
"I don't think it was a bad thing either,"
"If," Johnny stares at Dally's hands like he's trying to read something scribbled across his knuckles, "If you patch me up will you - will ya do that again?"
The kid's face is bright red and bruised and Dallas is wicked as a goddamn devil when he says, "Sure. If ya look me in the eyes and ask,"
It's so stupid. Cruel even for him. And yet -
He wants to see it. Dallas Winston has always been a selfish boy.
Johnny lifts his eyes, real startled now, like he didn't know that Dallas even noticed. Like he didn't think Dallas gave a fuck if he could meet his gaze or not.
"I know you know how, baby," he teases and Johnny's absolutely squirming in front of him.
But he drags his stubborn eyes up, brown such a warm dark brown they're his favorite fuckin' color, holds Dally's stare and says, all slow and deliberate, "I let you patch me up and you'll - you'll kiss me again?"
Heat floods Dal's face, his gut.
Christ, Johnny's gonna end up killing him and Dallas couldn't be a more willing sacrifice.
"Thought you kissed me ?" He rasps.
"So you ain't even kissed me once 'n you're makin' demands?"
And Johnny's playing it dangerous all over again but Dallas is going to let him because he knows who will win in the end, "You're gonna sit right there, lookin' real pretty, and I'm gonna wrap that knee. Then I'm gonna find you some aspirin. Maybe some ice. Then we're gonna lay down real careful like and I'm gonna kiss you, Johnny Cade. Simple as that, no better plan around,"
It's a warm sort of look. That's what it earns him. A warm and excited kinda thing, like a flickering flame cupped behind eager hands.
"Yeah," Johnny nods, "You were always real good with plans Dally,"
Dallas' chuckle is dark and entirely genuine. Johnny laughs with him, leans in close enough that Dal wants to dare him to steal another kiss.
Instead, Dallas tips his head back and howls up at the shitty ceiling, happy as a hound.
Johnny looks at him like he's more than a little crazy but then he's howling too.