Chapter Text
Dallas Winston ———————————————— The first time it almost happened was a Thursday. It was well into July, so the weather was finally decent in Tulsa. I was walkin' the corner of Pickett and Sutton, I wanted a fight. I had gotten into it with my dad over my drug use and how I was never home. I argued that he only wanted to play family when he was thinkin' of his ex-wife, my mother. He didn't really appreciate me bringin' up his failed marriage and he hit me. For the first time since I'd moved in, I hit back and I punched him good in the stomach.
I freaked out and left the house, now I found myself at the most action-packed spot on the East side of Tulsa, lookin' for anyone desperate enough to help me blow off some steam. I recognized a familiar black 1953 Chevy with fresh tires after I had slashed the last set. It was Tim's, I looked around until I noticed him, he was with his younger brother, Curly and they were most likely gossipin’ like schoolgirls. I flipped open the switchblade I had nagged Two-bit to let me use and pointed it at the tire. I had absolutely no intention in slashin' the brand new tires, I just wanted him to think I was gonna. Then, he would want to kill me and boom, I've got me a nice, long fight ahead.
I glanced back at Tim, he hadn't noticed me yet. I sighed in annoyance and leaned against the Chevy. Tim was listenin' to Curly, who pointed in my direction while yappin'. I turned around and leaned over the tire, actin' like I was ‘bout to slash the tires and waited for Tim to finally shut his trap and notice me.
I heard a distant ‘Dally' from Tim as he finally picked up on what I was tryin' to do. I pretended not to notice and waited for him to get over here and fight me already. I turned around just in time to see Tim and I smirked like I'd been waitin' my whole life for him. Tim never wasted time, that's what I liked about him. He immediately grabbed me by the collar and I let him drag me over to an empty alleyway that was surrounded by brick walls and littered badly. I watched his face change when he'd realized I hadn't even gone to work on the rubber tires.
Tim glanced at me suspiciously. “You didn't slash the tires? What the hell were ya doin'?”
“Well, I was ‘bout ta, then yous came over an' time was up.” I lied smoothly, not even a single waver in my voice or any slip in my actions. I had always been a great liar. Gift and a curse—give or take. Tim narrowed his eyes, I doubt he believes me, I just wanted a good fight.
“What's the problem, don't know how to use a blade?” He smirked and waited for me to respond.
I huffed, a bit annoyed. “I could always demonstrate on the youngest Shepard, if that'll show you, but it would be a real shame if I had to cut up that pretty face on Curly.” I glanced towards Tim's little brother, who was alone, leanin' on a car over by the corner of Pickett and Sutton.
Tim had always been protective of both his siblings—Curly and Angela—even since he began his gang, Tim knew exactly how to keep family and business separated. Although he knew Curly thought he didn't like him. I know, it's fucked up to bring up internal family issues, but I didn't care. “Stay the fuck away from Curly. I'll beat you senseless if you so much as lay a finger on my brother.” Tim growled.
I leaned against the brick wall of the alleyway. Tim's face was dimly lit by the flickerin' street light. I thought if I made an off handed comment, then he would be more likely to try and fight me. “I mean, not like he's your favorite person anyway, his words not mine.” Tim glared at me, he knew it was bait and still took it. He was sensitive when it came to how Curly saw him, it was more than messed up of me to say that. I couldn't care any less.
Tim tried to punch me, I ducked and got him in the stomach, he was not a fan and kicked me in the chest, knockin' any air out of me as I coughed and doubled over, tryin' to catch my breath. He put a hand under my chin and forced me to look at him. I glared my best glare as Tim forced me against the wall with a skilled kick and possessive shove. I spit blood at the floor and coughed for the tenth time in this one fight. I felt a migraine formin' from when he'd pushed me against the wall, even though it wasn't the worst push either of us had done to the other.
“Why'd ya wanna fight so bad, Baby?” He asked, wrappin' an arm ‘round my waist. I pushed him off and he laughed lightly.
I spit some blood in front of his shoe. “Not your baby, don't call me that. And I don't owe you any explanation for anythin’.”
Tim narrowed his admirable dark blue eyes that he shared with both his siblings. “It became my problem as soon as you pretended to slash my tires and brought my brother into it, somehow you managed to make it nearly revolve around me.” He put his hand under my chin again and pushed my head against the wall for the second damn time. It fuckin' hurt—ot that I'd ever let him know that without a gun to my head.
He must've hit my head hard enough for blood, ‘cause I felt a warm liquid rush down my head and I recognized it as blood. I had never been a stranger to nasty wounds, but a concussion always gets you and I was startin' to get a bit dizzy. Tim swiped a hand over my bloody head and I tried to move backwards, I wasn't in the mood to let Tim Shepard bash my skull in over unslashed tires and insulted brothers. I winced back as he touched the injury that I still couldn't name.
Tim's face was unreadable as he checked out my head. I pushed him off me and ripped him a new one with nothin' but an excessive string of insults and curses. I don't remember any of them, that must've been the peak of my head injury.
Tim gave me this really funny look and tilted his head while starin' at me. He leaned a bit closer to me and looked just slightly lower. Was he lookin' at my nose? Maybe it was my neck? No…Tim was starin' at my lip. But why the hell is Tim Shepard lookin' at my lip? Maybe I busted it in the fight? Tim bit his lip an' I think my soul left my body—Not even my soul wanted to stick around to see exactly how Tim would beat me to death—thankfully, I wouldn't have to be there when this feisty Shepard lost his head and started beatin' me up. I saw Curly Shepard—right now, this kid was my angel in a black leather jacket— and he was right behind his brother.
The younger boy didn't say anythin' until Tim leaned close to me and I pushed him off. I didn't want to get my teeth knocked out. Curly watched his brother, who was still blissfully unaware of Curly silently behind him.
“Tim? Leave Dally alone, Angela called, she's havin' the worst day of her life over a party. The boy she was apparently swappein’ spit with was dancin' with Sylvia and she threw a drink on them both. Wish I was there, sounds like plenty of lovely drama.” Curly didn't seem to notice the tension until he looked between both of us. “Are y'all gonna kiss… or just stare at each other?”
I giggled, my head hurt real bad and I wished I had a bottle of scotch or at least a pack of kools. Tim immediately went straight to stumblin' over his words and tryin' to deny Curly's straightforward assumption. I liked Curly, he wasn't the smartest boy, but he always had a plan, just go straight to the point and spare not a single detail.
“I-WHAT? No! I ain't gay! W-why would you ask somethin' so dumb, Curly?!” Tim said with wide eyes and a panicked expression.
I giggled, I saw an openin' to embarrass Tim and it's like a hobby. “Relax, ya ain't boyfriend material anyways. More like a one night-ish thing, baby.” Tim glared somethin' awful at me and I laughed like his annoyance was the funniest thing even. Across his face, Tim's cheeks turned a light red color and I giggled more.
Curly frowned and looked at me with a strange stare. “Dallas, are ya bleedin'?” I felt myself frown at his question.
I grimaced and touched my head. I brought my hand back after I'd felt the familiar warm liquid and noticed the expected dark crimson latchin' itself on my hand. “I guess. Yeah, I am.” I scoffed. How stupid do I sound? Don't tell me, it'll hurt my ego for the rest of my days.
Curly started his yap about how Angela was really pissed off over some boy. “C'mon, you're commin' too, Winston, Angela could patch your head up if Tim can keep his hands off ya.” I scoffed. I think Curly's exaggeratin' this, but if Tim's annoyed, then I'm all for it. I watched Tim roll his gorgeous dark blues and hit his younger brother on the back of the head as revenge for his his ridiculous comment. I tried to push myself off the wall but was hit with a overwhelmin’ wave of nausea as I pressed my back up against the wall again. I think I'mma pass out…I don't trust Tim or Curly enough to faint willingly or show weakness as long as I live.
I hadn't even realized I was breathin’ heavily until Tim spoke to me. “Dallas? Knock knock, anyone home? Ya still alive in there, Baby?”
I felt myself try to look up at Tim only to get light headed as soon as I tried to. Maybe it was the sun, which suddenly felt significantly brighter than it had been not too long ago. “Shut the fuck up.” I mumbled, but it sounded slurred—even to me, as I was speakin'.
Curly stepped towards me and I subconsciously stepped back in sync with him. Curly frowned and walked up to me slower. “Wait. Dally, c'mere. I think you gave him a concussion, Tim. One of his pupils is significantly larger than the other.”
Both Shepard boys are pissin’ me off today, aren't they? I glared at Curly, who tried to get me to stand up on my own. “I can fuckin' walk, I ain't a vegetable, Curly. I just need a damn minute, your freak of a brother smacked me against the wall like we're in a goddamn cartoon. Wow that sun is bright…” I pressed my thumb to my temple and tried to force myself to focus even though everything hurt.
“Tim, help Dallas, I don't know if he can walk.”
“I'm not a damsel in fuckin' distress. Sure, Tim would probably love that, but I fuckin' ain't and I can fuckin' walk.” I said, feelin’ my random burst of energy, I pushed myself off the wall and almost immediately felt strangely faint, I leaned back on the wall.
“Thought ya said you weren't no damsel, huh, Baby?” Tim teased. I knew I'd gone pale when I attempted to stand on my own, but I hated the fact that it was noticeable.
“Tim, shut the fuckin' fuck up.” I slurred as Tim forced my arm around his shoulder while he put his arm around my waist. I squirmed and tried to get the fuck away from Tim so I could prove that I did not—in fact— need his useless help. “Let go of me, I don't fuckin' need your fuckin' help… you fuckin' shit!” I exclaimed as I tried (yet again) to wiggle free from Tim.
Curly looked behind himself as me and his annoyin' brother with a strange look of masked concern. “If I got a dollar every time Dallas said fuck or any variation or fuck, I'd be rich enough to take all three of us out of Tulsa.” I huffed, this is a waste of time. “Repetitive use of the same words is also a very clear sign of a concussion. ‘Fuck' might literally be Dallas' internal cry for help.” What a ton a pure and absolute 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯’—I just curse a lot, bad habit—bullshit commin' outta Curly's mouth.
I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes. “Both of you f—” 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵. “—Y'all both just piss me off.”
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘦, I thought as we made it to the porch of the house and I heard the unmistakable screamin' of the only lady I respected (who's still alive) in this dump of a town. Angela Shepard was a smart girl, she knew what she was doin' when it came to boys and knew exactly how to have a guy wrapped around her finger. Which is exactly why Darry had tried so hard to keep the whole gang away from her at all costs, I learned later, that he had tried hardest to keep me and Angela separated, so I naturally gravitated to her brother and became one of his most trusted friends. Darry knew exactly what kind of girls I was into, the problematic ones. Somethin' was very attractive about a girl who liked to cheat while we were still together (Hence my obsessive on-and-off with Sylvia.)
Curly opened the front door and the three of us went in as Angela put the phone down. The other end of the line was screamin' at her, I couldn't make out what the person was sayin', but it sounded like a boy.
“Hi, Dally… the fuck happened to ya head?”Angela asked almost instantly. And her brothers say 𝘐 curse too much.
I gave Tim a sharp 𝘛𝘴𝘬 before I answered his sister. “Your stupid brother happened.”
“Curly, what did you do?” She asked her younger brother who promptly shrugged without a second thought. Tim snorted in amusement and I felt myself laugh a little.
“I ain't done nothin'! Tim's the one who gave Dally a concussion.”
I rubbed my temples in annoyance.“I don't have a concussion, you tiny delusional human.”
Curly got a pissed look. I was lovin' it just as much as Tim, who was smirkin'. “I am 𝘯𝘰𝘵 tiny! I'm 5’11!”
I smirked. “Listen to yourself, you sound ridiculous.” Yes, I'm fully aware that 5 '11 is real tall for a 15 year old, but this kid is just so easy to annoy. I couldn't really help myself, you wouldn't if you were in my situation either.
Angela sighed. “Both of you, shut up and tell me what actually happened.”
“Dally almost slashed my tires, so I pushed him against the wall—” Tim started before Curly interrupted him.
“Don't leave the best part out, Tim was basically all over Dallas.” Curly made a dramatic kissin' sound and I didn't even have to hit him. Tim already beat the poor kid over the head usin' a newspaper he got from the kitchen table.
“Curly left out the part where Tim smacked my damn head against the brick wall and now my head hurts and so does my ego.” Angela laughed, more amused by her younger brother's description of what happened than anythin'.
Curly smirked and Tim got a strange expression, like he knew Curly was about to say somethin' real stupid. “Tim was nearly peckin' Dally on the neck! Ain't nothin' straight ‘boutcha, but smackin' Dallas ain't the same as kissin' him. Y'know that, right Tim?”
Tim dragged Curly by the ear into his younger brother's room. All while mumblin' ‘bout “Watchin' ya tone, Curly.” and some more shit ‘bout rumors and misinformation.
Angela—still sittin' at the kitchen table—glanced at me and gestured for me to come toward her. I shrugged and obeyed. She tilted my head towards me and literally gasped. “TIM, YOU LITTLE SHIT, LOOK WHAT YOU DID! HE'S GONNA DIE ‘CAUSE OF YA!” Angela screamed to Tim who was most likely still tryin' to beat the tar out of Curly. Angela was probably just tryin' to get her brother to feel bad for bashin' my skull in, but it didn't exactly make me feel too hot, if you know what I mean.
I huffed and gave Angela a slight glare. ‘Well, I ain't gonna die, it ain't that bad.” Angela gave me a side-eye and got up, opened a kitchen cabinet and retrieved a thin red pouch which she put in front of her seat and unzipped it. Inside the small red bag—which had a white plus sign on it—was a whole bunch of bandages, stitchin' and a roll of medical adhesive tape. Angela dragged me to the kitchen sink and cleaned my head with a small towel that quickly became a dark pink color followin' the times she dabbed it on my head.
After a good minute of smackin' my head with a cloth, Angela sighed. “Come closer, idiot. I need to put bandages on it or it could get infected.” I rolled my eyes and complied. “Was Tim seriously all over you?” I practically shot holes into her head with how hard I glared. “Y'know what I mean, don't give me that goddamn look, Dallas.”
“What? No. Curly was exaggeratin' it a lot. I mean sure, he had me pinned against a wall, but you can see he definitely wasn't tryin' to make a move, he was too busy… y'know, smackin' my skull into my brains.” I said, I know I must have said it too quickly and unconvincin', ‘cause Angela just giggled and smirked at me. Nice goin', Tim. Now your sister thinks were fuckin' and your brother's all for it.
“Sure thing.” She said with a smile, pullin’ the bandage out of the first-aid kit and started goin' to work on my head with it after she put gauze on. It stung, I'm goin' to be honest here. She finished wrappin' it around my head, and I knew I looked just as pathetic as I felt. [Author's note: just imagine a blonde teenage boy with a scowl on his face and pale blue eyes with a bandage around his head. Dally looked exactly like the bandage emoji 🤕]
My head was still poundin' like crazy and I think I was only startin' to realize it now thanks to the adrenaline high, which was beginin' to wear off. Tim had walked out of his room and made sure I wasn't actively dyin' in his kitchen while his sister tried to patch me up like I was a teddy bear older than time itself.
I forced myself to sit straight even though I wanted nothin' more than to crawl into a ball and sleep until mornin'. Unfortunately for me, and you—who has to read me whinin’ for the sake of your own curiosity—I wasn't able to get the hell out. Tim stood near his sister, who was in the seat across from me.
My head still hurt real bad, but I had never been a stranger to pain. Half the time I'm in a fight, so I have no good reason to be bitchin' over a concussion. For some odd drivin' force, I couldn't really focus on much of anythin', no matter how hard I tried. I looked up at Tim who was fidgetin' with his hands. Why's 𝘩𝘦 nervous? My head seemed to be workin' over time ‘cause the shit kept throbbin’.
“Well, ya obviously got a concussion, just don't remove the bandage for a few days and you should be fine.” Angela said, adjustin' the white bandage around my head. I smiled at her. She was a real good person. As good as a greaser can get when raised by the idiot Tim is.
“Thanks Angie, you're a real doll, I own ya one.” I stood up and made my way to the door. Tim watched me and I turned around and gestured for him to follow me out of the door. The two of us were on the porch together when I shut the door and stepped much closer to him. We were close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck. I touched his chest and smirked.
“Y'know…” I locked eyes with him as I spoke. “Next time ya want a kiss, ya can just ask. Ya ain't gotta try an' kill me for it.” I said with a flirty chuckle. I was teasin' him. Or that's what I would tell myself until I got my own head straight and figured out what the hell I was even doin'.
Tim's cheeks turned rosy and I realized exactly how much I loved embarrassin' him in that very second. Tim scoffed and I think my heart forgot a whole damn cycle. “But, who's to say what's not to say?” I wanted to make sure this poor boy thought of me every time he shut those gorgeous dark sapphire eyes, so I simply walked off the porch and made my way home before he could come up with a response. It's a real strange day, but for once—I think I'm satisfied with how this one ended.