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Dallas sat at the bar, the glass of amber liquor felt cool in his hand. It seemed like it was the only solid thing he could feel at the moment. He took a sip, relishing in the feeling of the whiskey burning down his throat.
Absently, he noticed someone sit down next to him. He paid them no mind as they ordered a drink, Buck's was busy on the weekends. He didn't care about the person until they spoke.
"What's wrong with you?" Tim Shepard asked. He took a sip of the beer he'd gotten.
"Nothing. Fuck off, Tim," Dallas answered, turning away from him.
"Who put a stick up your ass?" Tim grumbled. "C'mon, talk to me, you know I'll make ya."
"Tim, for once in your life, shut up," Dallas barked. Tim grinned.
"Now where's the fun in that?" he taunted. "It's not like I ever have before."
"Tim, I've already fought someone today, I am more than happy to do it again," Dally hissed.
"You got in a fight? With who? One of your gang?" Tim pressed. Dallas realized his mistake and clammed up.
"No."
"A Soc?"
"No! It was just some guy, alright? Leave it alone," Dally said angrily. Tim looked at him cockeyed.
"Some guy? Well, he obviously did something to set you off," he stated. "He start getting in your face? Causin' problems?"
"He caused a fuckin' problem alright," Dallas muttered. "I don't even know why I did it! Ain't no reason to."
"You've always got a reason to. Ain't always a good reason, but you've got one," Tim said mildly.
He decided from there to quit pressing and seeing if his companion would talk on his own. They sat there for a moment, quietly sipping their drinks, waiting for the other to break. In the end, Dallas couldn't deal.
"Me and Two went to a diner, Soda, Steve, and Darry were working, and Pony and Johnny went to a movie. It was fine for a while, we got our food, and talked 'bout whatever.
"Then some scumbag walked in. I knew he was gonna be a problem the second I saw him. Stained wife-beater, pair of jeans, and some kinda work boots. I didn't care about him so much as the kid.
"She was small, really small. She was at most nine. God, she was tiny. She was dressed in her Sunday best, and smiling like the fuckin' sun. She talked all happy to the waitress, think I heard her say it was her birthday or something. I didn't fuckin' care, but I didn't like the look of 'em.
"The waitress sat them down and it was fine, the kid ordered a milkshake and her pops had a beer in hand. Then I heard a thud and the kid started crying and her old man was yellin'. I ain't even see nothin'! But the milkshake was knocked over and the little girl was sobbing on the floor with a big red mark on her face...
"I don't even know what happened but I fuckin' tackled the guy and I hit 'em. I hit 'em 'til his nose bled. Two-Bit dragged me offa him and we left," Dally finished. He stared hard at the wood grain of the bar.
"...Damn. That's real tough. I get why though," Tim said, his voice softer than before. Dallas looked at him in annoyed confusion.
"What do you mean by that, huh? How do you know when I obviously don't? You've got some nerve pretending like you know me," Dally snapped. Tim looked at him, a challenging flare in his eyes.
"I've seen how you get when Johnny-boy comes round with a new cut and bruises and I've seen how you get when that Steve kid crops up with a shiner and a split lip. You ain't as tough as you think you are, because when you see them, you think of yourself back in New York. You ain't a good person, but you're not as bad as you wish you was," Tim told him harshly.
"I would hit you if I could, Shepard," Dallas growled. His companion smiled wolfishly.
"How about we hit the lot and throw down there?" Tim offered, testing Dallas' self control.
"Fine. Lead the way, asshole," came his answer.
Dallas and Tim threw back the rest of their drinks, leaving some cash on the bar. They stumbled out of Buck's towards the lot. Buck himself watched them leave, a knowing look crossing his face as the boys leaned against each other to go and fight somewhere.
The boys traded insults as they trekked toward the lot. The closer they got, the more they started pushing each other, the need to rid themselves of their pent up energy growing.
The second Tim set foot on the lot, Dallas shoved him to the floor, but Tim clung to him, making Dallas fall too. They wrestled on the gravel, trying to get the upper hand, their drunken lack of coordination hindering them. Eventually, Dallas managed to get on top of Tim, hitting him in the eye. Then Tim snatched his wrist and hauled him to the side.
They split for a moment to stand up again, circling each other. Tim rushed Dallas who caught him. They held onto each other, hoping one would fall, but it didn't happen. Tim managed to shove Dally away before he rushed back to hit him in the mouth. Dallas stumbled back, bringing his hand to his lip. He smiled at the sight of blood, then brought his fists up.
The two brawled for a while more until couldn't anymore. Tim had given up trying after Dallas had him pinned again. They were heaving and tired and the alcohol wasn't helping. Dallas rolled over onto the gravel and they stared at the sky overhead.
"Do ya feel better now?" Tim asked after a long moment.
"No," Dally lied. He kept his eyes on the stars. "Thank fuck Curly and Pony aren't here. If they were, they wouldn't shut up about the stars."
Tim laughed. "Yeah, they'd be naming all the constellations and explaining the most important ones," he answered, turning his head to look at his friend.
"Don't tell either of them, but I can agree they're pretty," Dally mumbled.
"Yeah, they are," Tim said. He wasn't talking about the stars.
The two laid there, staring at the sky overhead. They were quiet, there wasn't much for them to say. Nothing to say in public at least.
"C'mon," Tim said, sitting up, "we'll go back to my house."
"Whatever you say, Tim," Dallas answered.
They leaned against each other as they walked to Tim's house. Instead of insults, they cracked jokes along the way this time. Nobody was out at this time of night.
Once they reached the house, they slipped in quietly. They made their way to the bathroom to take care of the damage they caused. They didn't say a word as they patched each other up, the mutual understanding was enough.
Tim dabbed rubbing alcohol on Dally's split lip, as Dally held the ice over his eye. Then, they put everything away, headed toward Tim's room. They slipped inside shutting the door behind them.
Tim slipped his shirt off but didn't bother with his jeans as he collapsed. Dallas did the opposite, ditching the jeans but keeping the shirt as he joined Tim in the bed.
"What kind of freak sleeps in jeans?" Dallas murmured.
"What kind of freak sleeps in a shirt?" Tim retorted without heat.
"Hey Tim?" Dally asked softly.
"What do you want?" Tim grumbled.
"I hate you," he lied.
"I'm sure you do. Now fuck off and go to sleep," Tim replied.
Dallas didn't listen, staying awake as Tim's breathing evened out. He stayed quiet until he heard Tim's soft snores.
"...I love you, Tim..." he whispered, pressing a kiss into the back of the other's head.