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Darry came in through the front door, dropped his toolbelt on the kitchen table, and immediately glanced at the counter for notes. Finding none and hearing Two-Bit’s voice prattlin’ on about somethin’ no one could follow and Dally’s Two what the hell are you on about told him what he’d correctly assumed: his brothers were all in the places they should be.
He crossed into the living room to find Pony curled up on the floor next to the armchair despite it bein’ vacant, with his nose stuck down in a book, Two with his feet up on the couch against Dally who was leanin’ against the opposite side, laid out, head restin’ on the arm. Steve and Soda would be home in an hour give or take.
“Hey, you three.” Two tipped his head back so he was lookin’ at Darry upside down.
“Hey Superman, you look better from this angle.” Darry rolled his eyes, deftly pullin’ Two up and into a headlock.
“Maybe I should put you on your head for good then.” Two howled and jabbed Darry in the ribs. He let the wriggling boy go and messed up his hair.
“Naw, that couldn’t be good for my brain, got all the blood runnin’ to it ‘n all.” Two grinned crookedly and pushed his hair back and out of his eyes. “I got a lot goin’ on up there to protect.” He pressed a finger to his temple and ducked under Darry’s attempt to grab him again.
“Could have fooled me.” Both Darry and Dallas smarted at the same time. Dallas smirked that smile that lifted up his lip and showed off his silver eye tooth. Darry felt a surge of affection. Dally didn't participate in afternoons like these one hundred percent of the time and it was always a relief when Darry heard him teasing. Not that he didn't get his jabs in at every other hour of the day. He did.
“My God,” Two mock fell back against the door frame, hand pressed to his heart, “Pony did you hear what these hoods said to me?” Pony glanced up at the sound of his name and seemed genuinely surprised to see Darry standin’ there.
“Huh? Oh, hey Dar.” Darry rolled his eyes again. Sometimes Pony could get himself so locked into a book he would miss gettin’ knocked over the head. Darry didn’t know how he did it. Just his own life was quite enough for him, thank you very much, without gettin’ involved with the characters in books or movies. But Pony liked them so he tried to understand.
“Damn Pony I could pull the shoes off your feet and you wouldn’t notice.” Dallas, on the other hand, had no problem voicin’ what they all tended to think.
Ponyboy just rolled his eyes hard and folded the corner of the page back to hold his place. “Don’t be mad at me ‘cause no one is sure if you even can read Dallas Winston.” Last year a comment like that would have had Dallas knockin’ Pony flat on his ass and not in the way they all did when they started horsin’ around but with an honest to god belt. But then again, last year Pony had more than a healthy fear of the older boy.
Times change.
“Why I oughta-” And Dallas throws himself right from the couch onto Pony, grinnin’, and Pony yelps and ditches the book, tryin’ to crawl away on hands and knees. He’s too slow and Dallas has him face first in the carpet, arm twisted behind his back before he can blink.
“Say Uncle,” Dallas demands, hair loose and wild around his eyes and silver tooth gleamin’.
“Hell no.” Ponyboy wriggles hard and manages to slide out of Dallas’ grip. Dallas doesn’t go for him again, just sits up and lets Ponyboy catch his breath, both got those wild smiles painted across their faces though they’re both tryin’ to look cross.
“Hellooo? I have been very rudely forgotten about here.” Darry grabs Two again and wrestles him easily to the ground with a hoot.
“Oh, no one’s forgotten you.” Darry pushes himself back on his haunches and looks coyly at Pony who has regained his breath and is eyein’ Dallas like he’s thinkin’ about goin’ back for round two.
“Gee, how good is it to be remembered?” Two rolls onto his back and tries and fails for a dejected stare at the ceiling. That is until Pony shoots up quick as quick and jabs him in the stomach, then vanishes down the hall yippin’ before Two-Bit can get back on his feet to give chase. He still tries until Darry hooks him around the ankle and Two stumbles but doesn’t fall. He whips back around and lets out a cackle.
“Speakin’ of rememberin’, aren’t you supposed to be makin’ dinner tonight?” Darry says, standin’ and wipin’ nonexistent dirt from his Levi’s. He reaches down and heaves Dallas up with a hand. Most of the time Darry didn’t make the boys who didn’t live with him cook but the rule was that if you ate more than three meals at the Curtis’ a week you had to make dinner at least one night. Two had more than plenty his three meals for the week but had somehow managed to dodge his dinner so far.
Two shot him a mock pout that could rival Ponyboy and Darry cocks an eyebrow up at him. Pony reappears down the hall, havin’ decided Two wasn’t comin’ after him and he was safe.
“Have you finished that essay you were supposed to be writin’?” And Pony actually does pout which causes both Dallas and Two to snicker.
“Aw, c’mon Dar, it’s the weekend.” He mutters, draggin’ his feet back towards the living room.
“Well if you had finished it Friday like you were meant to, you wouldn’t have to be at it now.” Darry fixes him a look and Pony turns from poutin’ to scowlin’. Darry ruffles his hair as he passes and Pony dejectedly tries to duck away only for Dallas to elbow him in the side as he goes by.
“C’mon, you can keep Two company while he cooks,” Darry says, pickin’ up Pony’s school bag from the floor and placin’ it at the table.
“Yeah kid, God knows Darry doesn’t want me in the kitchen alone. You can babysit me.” Two slings an arm around Pony’s shoulders and Pony stops tryin’ to look put out. Bein’ told to work with Two-Bit was like bein’ told to be sour on the first day of summer. It just wasn’t possible.
Dallas leans back against the door jamb, waitin’ to be told where his place is. He doesn’t have to wait long. Darry settles Pony at the table, pullin’ a pencil out of the junk drawer and smilin’ absently as Two begins flipping through the tin of their mother’s recipes before turnin’ back to Dally.
“C’mon, get your shoes on, we're gonna run some errands.” Dally shoots him a curious glance, but Darry just nods at the pile of shoes near the door and turns to grab somethin’ from his room. Soda had gone to the store yesterday to get groceries so that was out. Darry had a tendency to talk about his errands for days before he actually had free time to do them and Dallas hadn’t heard about anythin’ out of the usual but didn’t bother gripin’. He guessed Pepsi had just forgotten something. Whenever he shopped someone always ended up havin’ to run out again the next day.
He steadied himself on the wall and pulled up his sock. ‘His’ shoes were really just a pair of cowboys that Two had outgrown, Soda hadn’t fit, and Dally had needed because he’d managed to put a hole in the toe of his old boots. They were still a little loose on him and they rubbed at his ankles because he didn’t have the right socks but they were dry and that’s all Dallas needed.
Darry reappeared in the kitchen with his wallet and a folded-up piece of paper that Dallas guessed was a list of shit to pick up. It didn’t look long but Dallas wouldn’t have cared either way. He wouldn’t admit it but he kinda liked runnin’ errands with Darry.
“Dallas, where's your jacket?” Dally scowls and bein’ talked to like Ponyboy but lifts one shoulder in acknowledgment.
“Don’t have one.” Well, technically he had that one he’d given to Pony, but he never wanted to feel that thing on his back ever again. Darry sighs but pulls open the door to the laundry room and yanks out a flannel that Dally thinks was originally Darry’s but Steve has been wearing recently, tossing it to Dallas. He catches it in the air and shrugs it on deftly.
Darry pulls the pencil out of Pony’s hand from where he was tappin’ it against the table and makes a note on the list before handin’ it back.
“Alright boys we’ll be back soon,” Pony shoots Dallas a rueful look, presumably because he didn’t have an essay to write, and Dally flips him off. Lordy, sometimes Darry could forget that Pony and Dallas had three years between them. “Do y’all need anythin’?”
“Dairy Queen?” Both Pony and Two perk up brightly.
“No,” Darry rolls his eyes and quickly adds, “Two if you make somethin’ nasty on purpose you’re both still eatin’ it.” With Two-Bit involved Darry always needed to cover his bases.
“Aw man, I wouldn’t do that.” Darry snatches the keys off the table and shoots him a look. “Ok, yeah I would.” But he’s grinnin’ wide so Darry just sighs and nudges Dallas to get him movin’ out the door.
“I better come home to that essay done and dinner ready, you two.” Before the screen door shuts he squeezes in. “And the house still standin’.”
“See, now you’re askin’ too much.” Two yowls and his and Pony’s laughter followed them out to the car.
Darry unlocks the truck and they both slide in. Dallas immediately moves to put his feet up on the dash but catches himself as Darry raises his eyebrows and pulls them back with a lopsided smirk. Darry puts the truck and reverse and sighs.
“What am I gonna do with you and your brothers?” But he’s got that fond look he always gets when they were being a pain in the ass so Dally feels confident in rollin’ down the window and smartin’,
“Buy Dairy Queen so I don’t have to eat whatever foul shit Two is cookin’?” Dallas can’t see but he's certain Darry rolls his eyes heavenward again.
“Sure,” he says, voice drippin’ with sarcasm as he noticeably misses the light to the restaurant. “Long as your payin’.”
“Well, you missed your turn then.” Darry snorts his disapproval.
“If you can pay for dinner right now we gotta have a talk about where you’re comin’ up with funds and I don’t think you’re gonna like that.” The light turns yellow and Darry slows and stops even though he could have made it through. Probably. Darry’s the only guy Dallas knows who actually waits for yellow lights instead of floorin’ it and tryin’ to slide through.
“Wow Darry I didn’t know you thought so low of me.” Dallas huffs, mimin’ Darry’s sarcasm.
“I think the world of you, kiddo. I just also happen to know you.” Dallas tries to scoff but his stomach twists and he’s kinda glad Darry didn’t take him up on dinner. He didn’t know why Darry had to do that. Sneak in shit about lovin’ them when Dallas wasn’t expectin’ it. It makes bile rise up his throat and his chest ache in a way he didn’t want to think about. So instead, he rolls the window down a little further and he knows Darry will probably scold him for it but he doesn’t honestly care. He feels the beginnin’ of a winter rain prick against his skin gently proddin’ him and makin’ him feel dreamy.
“Lord, Dallas, you’re gonna get pneumonia and I won’t be payin’ for your damn doctor bills because you got sick doin’ stupid shit.” He’s lyin’ and they both know it. He paid for Soda’s doctor that time he had to get stitches because he climbed up on a horse that everyone told him would throw him. One guess what happened. Or for Two’s when he swallowed a beer tab on a dare. But it also wouldn’t stop him from kickin’ his ass and bitchin’ about it. So Dally rolls the window back up a bit.
Darry clocks the still-cracked window but doesn’t push it. Dallas gets the feelin’ that Darry can sense his shift in mood and that almost hacks him off. But Darry’s in such a good mood for once and he’s takin’ Dallas around so he’s tryin’ to bite it back.
Dally tucks the flannel tighter around him and Darry rolls his eyes but leans forward and turns the heat up a notch. It always hits Dallas at weird times that Darry actually is a really fuckin’ good guy. Not that he would tell him or anythin’.
Darry takes a right turn towards the shoppin’ center and away from the grocery store and Dallas shoots him a curious look Darry ignores. Dallas narrows his eyes and keeps lookin’ so Darry raises one eyebrow and tilts his head towards his kid brother. So he was gonna make him ask, huh.
Dally mentally kicks himself, wracks his brain for any spare tickets he never paid or court notices he ripped up that Darry could be haulin’ his ass in for but comes up with nothin’. Damn, Darry really has been straightenin’ his ass up. Havin’ not a one reason to be in trouble with the law is entirely unheard of for Dallas.
He’d have to get on that.
But Darry’d never be in such a good mood if that were the case, anyway. He’s got on arm pressed against the window and is hummin’ vaguely to the new Beatles single he has been takin’ shit for enjoyin’ since it came out. Dally’s just about the only one who won’t say anythin’ about it. Darry’s caught him tappin’ his fingers on the steerin’ wheel to Elenor Rigby so it was mutually assured destruction.
Darry parks the truck carefully, the only member of the gang to ever do so, and Dallas glances around. There’s a couple stores in the beaten-down strip but the only one they ever come to is the consignment shop on the end.
Oh, so Pony must need new track sneakers or somethin’. No reason for alarm. Dallas reaches over to unlock the door and Darry hits the lock. Dally rolls his eyes. Darry was always doin’ that before he went in stores together with the boys.
“Yeah, yeah, if I come out with somethin’ I didn’t go in with or pay for you’ll kick my ass all the way home. You know you could just tell a guy instead of lockin’ him in.” Dallas reaches for the lock again and Darry bats his hand away.
“Lord, the day I can get in a sentence without any of y’all cuttin’ me off hell will freeze right over.” Darry grabs his wallet and the list from the cupholder and hands the crumpled-up paper to Dallas.
Dallas huffs and Darry chuckles. Accordin’ to him, Dallas sighed about two hundred times a day like he was put out solely by the idea of people even thinkin’ he should do a chore now and then. Darry would ask him to put the trash out and Dally would puff like Darry had told him to walk the trash to the shore and back.
Dallas thought that was bullshit. That is until he caught himself with that groan in his throat and would bite right back on it if only to not give Darry the satisfaction.
“Wait, now I have to play shelf boy to find Pony cleats? I don’t even know his shoe size.” Which was a lie. It was a six. Dallas actually didn’t mind shoppin’ but, again, steak through the heart over tellin’ anyone. He finally unfolds the list and reads down it; three shirts, two pairs of jeans, sneakers or boots, jacket. Dallas glances up, recognizing the last item from Darry’s addition in the kitchen, and finds Darry already watchin’ him carefully.
“I want you to get some new clothes for the winter, it’s gonna be a sonofabitch I can already tell and I’m not gonna have you runnin’ around in T-shirts and breakin’ your neck in Two’s boots.” He’d kept a hand up through his speech so that Dallas didn’t interrupt that now he uses to dig through his wallet and come up with his Master Charge card. “Get a receipt but don’t worry about how much it ends up bein’, I’ll worry about it later.”
Dally doesn’t move to take it, just grips the list a little tighter and is suddenly grateful that Darry told him now because his heart’s beatin’ so hard in his chest he’s sure Darry can hear it, and his veins gone all cold, and he’s bitin’ the inside of his cheek hard enough he tastes blood.
Darry reaches out to put a hand on his knee and Dallas really can’t take that right now so instead he throws open the door and gets straight out. He doesn’t shut it, Darry’s still got a hold of his card, and his hand is still waverin’ in the space Dallas just occupied. He reacts just a second too late so Dally still catches the flicker of hurt across his face and God why couldn’t he just be normal about this?
He takes the card Darry offers and hesitates as Darry opens his mouth, “I was goin’ to cash Soda ‘n I’s checks but if you want me to come with you I-”
“I’m fine.” And it comes out all rough and the edges and harder than he meant it to. Darry doesn’t say anythin’ else, just studies him for a long moment before noddin’. Dallas shuts the door without another word which makes him feel like a right asshole but he really doesn’t trust whatever else is gonna come out of his mouth.
Dallas can feel Darry’s eyes on his back all the way from the truck to the consignment shop but he doesn’t look back. When he opens the door the bell over the entry jingles merrily and that nearly fries Dally’s shot nerves completely. He reaches up on instinct and grabs it, cuttin’ the ringin’ off. The one woman shoppin’ in the store shoots him a nervy glance and Dallas glares.
She jumps a little and vanishes down the aisle. Shit. He didn’t mean to do that. If Darry had come in he would have told him off for that. Get it together. Glory God since when did bein’ told to buy a shirt and some jeans turn him into a nutcase.
He finds what he’s lookin’ for easy enough. There’s an abundance of shirts and Dallas finds one brown and one black and a shirt for The Who he snaps out of the rack with genuine shock, troubles momentarily forgotten. The jeans are more of a pain in his ass because his proportions are all out of wack, they’re never long enough or they’re too long. But he finds one and doesn’t have the patience to go for another. Jeans were the one thing their house had in abundance, other than trouble, he’d end up with someone’s hand-me-arounds, he just hoped Darry wouldn’t pitch a fit about it. He snatches a pair of sneakers worn down enough to be cheap but not enough that they won’t last him a season or two. By the time he gets down to the jacket, his patience is dangerously thin so he grabs the first leather jacket that fits and turns to the counter.
The woman at the check-out looks familiar, probably from one of the other times he’s been in here with the boys. She seems sweet, she’s got that kind of motherly laughing face and she gives Dallas a smile as he dumps his armload onto the counter. It’s clear she recognizes him too.
“Hey, sweetie.” Dallas tries not to make a face at the name, so he just nods. She starts to ring him up, shootin’ little curious glances his way. “Oh! I know you! You're one of Darrel Curtis’ boys, right?”
Dallas can’t explain it. He wants to melt right into the floor and put his fist through the fuckin’ wall at the same time. He’s grippin’ Darry’s card so hard it might snap in half in his hand. The woman doesn’t seem to notice at all. She pauses on the jacket, searchin’ for a price and Dally thinks great, this is exactly what I fuckin’ need.
“One second, dear, I need to check this price.” She takes the jacket and disappears through the back door and Dallas doesn’t think about the next few things he does for even a moment. He doesn’t have time to. He reaches straight over the counter to the jewelry display and grabs the first thing he gets his hand on, a costume ring; he can feel its cheapness even as he slips it right into his pocket.
When the hand comes down on his shoulder Dallas has to fight hard against not jumpin’ straight out of his skin. He whips his head around hard enough he hears his own neck pop, he’ll make a break for it if he has to, but then he looks up into the face of his fumin’ older brother and the relief that washes over him nearly knocks him flat on his ass. But he doesn’t want to think about why that’s the first thing he feels. Relief.
Shit.
Darry doesn’t say anythin’, just reaches straight into Dallas’ pocket and pulls the ring out, settin’ it gently on the counter. His hand never leaves Dallas’ shoulder and it's startin’ to make him jumpy.
The woman returns and smiles a big, sugar smile when she sees Darry. She says somethin’ and Darry answers her but all Dallas can focus on is Darry’s fingers diggin’ slightly into the flannel but not enough to hurt and shit why did he even do that, why couldn’t he just let this happen.
Darry doesn’t ask him for the card, he just reaches down and places his hand over Dallas’, a silent request. Still, Dally isn’t payin’ attention and the contact is really just startin’ to become too much for him but he can’t shake Darry off because he’s already goin’ to catch it for actin’ like a fuckin’ hood. Darry tilts Dallas back half an inch and reads somethin’ in his face without Dally ever openin’ his mouth. Darry reaches down and takes the Master Charge card from Dally’s hand, squeezin’ his wrist in a way that is half comfort- half don’t try anythin’, and unwraps his fingers from Dally’s shoulder.
The stupid fuckin’ release he gets the second Darry stops touchin’ him could make him cry. But that’s bullshit because he takes that shit all day long. He tackles Pony and lets Darry push him out the door and takes squeezin’ shoulders and playful jabs to the ribs and Ponyboy when he decides he wants to take up half of Dallas’ bed for the night. So why can’t he take it now?
“Oh! I’m sorry! I missed this!” She picks up the ring and turns it over in her hands, then furrows her eyebrows and glances behind her at the jewelry case. “Now how’d that get out here?”
Both Dallas and Darry glance up and find the security camera glarin’ down at them at the same time. Darry lets out an almighty sigh and Dallas suddenly feels as small as Ponyboy. Damn Darry for havin’ that fuckin’ effect on all of them. Dallas risks a quick glance at his older brother and finds Darry lookin’ at him with expectant eyes.
The woman is still lookin’ at the ring like it’ll tell her itself how it wound up out of the case. Dallas hesitates and Darry clears his throat. “Uh, I took it. Or I tried to take it, fuckin’ whatever-” Darry slaps him up the back of his head hard and Dallas feels the tops of his ears go bright red. Jesus, he was never comin’ back to this goddamn store as long as he fuckin’ lived.
The woman is lookin’ at him with slightly horrified eyes but Dallas is now refusin’ to look at anythin’ but the toes of his boots as they dig into the tilin’. “I’m sorry about him.” Darry deftly takes over and Dallas is at least grateful for that. “Trust, he’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him, ma’am.”
“Darry!” And Dallas is workin’ hard to ignore the shrill whine in his voice and Glory God he means it he is never comin’ back here ever.
Darry turns his eyes back on Dallas and he has been on the receiving end of hundreds of those glares but God they never fail to make him shut right the hell up. He drops his eyes back down and listens to that fuckin’ bell jingle again as someone comes in and he really is gonna rip that thing out of the wall he means it.
“Well… oook.” The woman turns and replaces the ring uncertainty. Darry flashes her one of his award-winnin’ grins and a little shrug that says boys, what are you gonna do with ‘em and the woman smiles back. “Ok. No harm no foul.” She says more certainly, back to her little sugary simper.
Darry and her exchange some light conversation about the boys back and forth but Dallas is not payin’ one bit of attention because his heart is poundin’ in his ears and he’s feelin’ sick to his stomach in a way that has nothin’ to do with skippin’ lunch. He doesn’t even register they’re done until Darry dumps the bag and keys into his arms and ushers him out onto the sidewalk.
It’s gettin’ darker now and the rain is actin’ like it’s tryin’ to whip itself into a proper storm. Dallas clutches the keys until they leave an indent in his palm.
“Go to the truck and wait.” Darry looks properly hacked off now, grittin’ his teeth back and forth like he’s tryin’ to keep himself from sayin’ something else. Dallas opens his mouth but Darry just holds up a hand. “I don’t wanna hear it, Dallas. Go.”
Dallas thinks about refusin’. He really does. But he also doesn’t want Darry to grab him on the sidewalk and make him walk so he settles for shootin’ Darry a glare and slinkin’ down to the truck. He tries not to look back. He really does. But when he finds Darry still standin’ there, watchin’, it makes the knot in his stomach a little looser which is such bullshit.
He unlocks the truck, throws the bag at his feet, and the keys onto the driver’s seat, and puts his wet boots straight up onto the dash. He wants a weed but he knows Darry hates when the truck smells like smoke. Well, that was Darry’s fault for makin’ him wait. Dallas fishes out the pack of Kools and strikes a match on the back of his St. Christopher. It doesn’t help.
He wants to be mad. Jesus, he wants to be angry so bad but now his brains all turnin’ round in circles and memories are comin’ right back to him without him ever fuckin’ askin’ them to and the smoke is makin’ him sick to his stomach but he doesn’t put it out if only for somethin’ to do with his hands.
He rests his hot forehead against the window and before he can stop it thinks about his father lockin’ him in his car and forgettin’ about him for six hours. He’d been five.
No. He's not doin’ this. He's not thinkin’ about this, he's not dredgin’ all this shit up just because Darry Curtis sent him to the car like a put-out toddler. He's fine.
But his stupid brain’s not listening to him one bit.
Or leavin’ him on street corners while he went into one bar after another and came out so sloshed he didn’t even remember he had a son.
Dallas squeezes his eyes tight, the cig burns out in his hand and he doesn’t even notice. Forgotten about on bus stops and houses with no food if he even could reach the fuckin’ stove and stealin’ jackets from the closets durin’ mornin’ mass so he didn’t freeze to death in the winters and-
Darry opens the door and slides in and he doesn’t even look mad anymore, just tired and sad and Dallas doesn’t notice at all. His breath is comin’ in these short little gasps and he’s got his head pressed down in his hands and if he had anythin’ in his stomach it would have already come up.
“Oh, Dally.” Darry immediately softens. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into the kid. He shifts to pull Dallas to his chest and Dallas flinches. Hard. There would be a bruise on Dally’s back for a week from where he hits the door handle.
“Don’t.”
Dallas stares out at Darry with a haunted, gaunt, hunted look Darry has seen a hundred times. His chest tightens. He knows where he’s seen that before.
From Johnny. Every time someone moved too quickly or touched him when he wasn’t expectin’. And he’d scrub that look from his eyes as quick as it appeared but it made Darry sick every time he’d catch it. And he caught it often enough to make him want to crack the head of whoever had made him scared like that.
Darry freezes, pulls his hand back all slow to give Dallas as much room as he can. He glances up, the rain is pourin’ now, the steady noise of it fallin’ on the roof creates some semblance of privacy. The parkin’ lot isn’t totally abandoned but there’s no one in any of the spots near the truck. That’s the best Darry can ask for.
“Ok.” He says, and he fights to make his voice all even and low and soft. He doesn’t know what to do with this. Every other member of the gang soaked up physical comfort. Most days he’d come home from work to find all five of the boys squeezed on the barely three-person loveseat, the two unlucky boys perched on the arm or tangled at the feet of the others or wrapped around each other in the armchair. After a fight both Pony and Soda wouldn’t admit to wanting it but Darry never asked them to, he’d just scoop them both up into his lap. Steve would put his shoulder on Pony’s head and Two-Bit would tackle any of them in a moment’s notice. A hand on a shoulder, a hug, a squeeze of the hand. It was all traded around the Curtis home without ever askin’ or tellin’. Dallas wouldn't. Or maybe he would when it didn’t count. But then he’d fight like a wild animal when Darry knew he needed comfort. And Darry didn’t understand that. “What do you need, Dallas?”
Dallas doesn’t say anythin’. Chest heavin’ up and down, hands twitchin’ from fists to flat palms on his thighs, he’s got his knees tucked up into his chest and feet on the seat.
God, wet shoes on the leather, crosses through Darry’s head but he shakes it right out. He doesn’t care. Dallas could kick his windshield out and he wouldn’t give a damn as long as that look left his eyes. But he’s still in the car. He’s tryin’.
“Don’t-” Dallas tries again, his voice all hoarse and low. He clears his throat and scrubs a hand hard over his dry face and leaves it there, hidin’ his eyes. “Don’t go.” And suddenly he’s cryin’.
Which is bullshit. Because he’s fine. Darry hasn’t even hit him or hollered or fuckin’ anythin’ except leave and then come back. And he can’t help the sob that chokes up in his throat. Darry shifts on the other side of the bench seat and Dallas jumps again which is so stupid but he’s just startin’ the car and turnin’ on the heat and Dally realizes suddenly how hard he’s shakin’.
“I’m gonna put my coat over your knees, ok? I’m not touchin’ you.” Dallas lifts his head and watches warily as Darry shucks off his heavy winter jacket all slow like he’s dealin’ with a spooked animal and places it softly over Dallas, careful not to touch him just like he said.
The smell of Darry’s aftershave hits Dallas like a heavy snowfall and that makes him want to sob even harder. Darry leans back against the opposite door and waits for Dallas to look him in the eye. It takes longer than Dallas is willing to admit.
“And I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“But you fuckin’ did. You left.” And Dallas is scratchin’ his tears away with blunt nails that leave red trails across his cheeks. Why is he like this? Darry didn’t fuckin’ go. He’s sittin’ right in front of him.
“I didn’t know you wanted me to stay.” Darry’s got this note in his voice like he’s actually sorry and Dallas can’t help at all the wail that rips right out of his throat. Had he wanted him to stay? Had he? “I wanted to take a walk so I didn’t say somethin’ to hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that. But I was never gonna leave you. Dallas James, are you listenin’ to me? I was never gonna leave you.”
And it’s such shit but those stupid little words make Dallas put his head right down into his knees like a toddler and cry and cry and cry. Dallas isn’t sure how to listen to that. People leave him all the time. His ma fuckin’ died to get away from him and his dad only paid any thought to him to tell him how much trouble he was and then he’d gone and killed the only boy he’d ever tried to protect.
People should leave him. He deserves to be left.
“Do you know what I thought when I first saw you, Dallas?” And that shocks Dallas enough to pull his head off his knees and blink at the boy sittin’ opposite him. Darry looks at him like he’s tryin’ to convey all the love he can’t hold Dallas with. “You came home with Soda in ‘62 and I’d heard so much about you before I ever got to clap eyes on you. I’d heard Ponyboy and Soda discuss your rap with wide eyes and Two-Bit defer to you and Steve respect you and I’d thought God, another hood that’s gonna have my kid brothers endin’ up in reform school because they had to swipe a car or some shit to prove they were just as tough.” Dallas bites his lip hard but Darry just smiles fondly and he’s got that glow of remembrance in his eyes.
“But the first time I met you wasn’t with Soda.” And confusion passes over Dallas’ eyes that are shin’ softly with unshed tears. “No, I met you a week earlier when I was walkin’ the lot tryin’ to find Johnny because he hadn’t ended up at our place and I was worried his folks were gonna hurt him. And I found him alright. But I also found you. Do you remember that?” Dallas furrows his brow hard, shakes his head. “Johnny was pretty busted up. I remember lookin’ at him and thinkin’ about a friend of our Da's who'd tangoed with the wrong end of some pretty heavy construction equipment. I'd wanted to go straight to him then but before I could you had your jacket tucked up around him and you told him-”
“No one's ever gonna hurt you ever again, Johnny Kid. Not while I'm around.” And Dallas presses on the memory and finds it doesn’t hurt.
“I knew right then that it didn’t matter how long your rap was or what you said or what you needed to do to keep yourself at arm's length from all the shit that hurt. I knew you were a good kid, Dallas. I still do.”
And Dallas just explodes. “But I’m not. Darry, I’m not. I’m sorry I lied to you. I don’t know what you think you saw in me but I’m nothin’ but a fuckin’ hood. I don’t deserve-”
“Dallas James Winston.” And Darry’s tone is so full of emotion Dallas shuts right up. “I would never let anyone else talk about you that way and I’m not about to sit here listenin’ to it from you. I don’t care what you have to tell the world to get by, but you won’t sit in this car and lie to my face. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.” And Dally’s voice is so small he scares himself.
“You are a good kid. Actually, I’ll do you one better. You are my good kid brother. And I won’t hear anythin’ else about it. Stop testin’ me, kid. I’m not leavin’.”
“What?” But the realization is already settin’ into him. Darry knows Dallas better than he knows himself. And that should scare him. Should scare the pants right off him. Should make him get right out of that truck and bolt. But it doesn’t.
“You don’t think you deserve people that care about you, so you steal ‘n fight me ‘n act like you ain’t got no sense sometimes just to prove to me that I got it wrong. But I don’t. I know that. Stop tryin’ to push me until I stop lovin’ you. It’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.”
“Oh.” And he’s cryin’ again but this time he doesn’t even care. Darry isn’t leavin’ him. Darrel Shayne Curtis Jr. loves him. He’s someone’s kid brother. Someone cares.
And it's bullshit. But maybe it's enough.
“I wish…” Darry looks over at him with eyes that look so much like Dallas’. Bright blue and shinin’ with tears and Dallas thinks maybe the only thing he’s ever wanted to be is one of Darry’s boys. “I wish you could hold me.”
“Do you want to try?” Dallas wants to curl himself right against Darry’s side and never move again. But he doesn’t think he’s ready for that yet. But glory God he hopes one day he can be.
Dallas scoots himself across the bench and Darry doesn’t move at all, just lets Dally position himself leanin’ on his shoulder. Suddenly, Dallas thinks he could fall asleep here with the sound of the rain beatin’ on the windows and the Beatles playin’ dreamily from the radio and Darry not movin’ one inch, just lettin’ him rest there.
“Are we square, kid?” And Dallas can feel Darry’s voice as it rumbles through his chest.
“Yeah, we’re square.”
“Good.” He pauses for a second, stares down at Dallas with a look Dally can’t fathom. “I love you, kiddo.”
Dallas doesn't know what he did right to ever end up here. He really doesn’t. But he thinks maybe that's ok. “Love you too, Dar.”
Darry reaches forward and starts the truck. “What do you say about Dairy Queen? Somethin’ tells me Two made somethin’ foul and I can’t deal with another whiny kid brother tonight.”
Dallas lets out an indignant huff at bein’ lumped in with Pony but he doesn’t fight it. He kinda loved that Darry did that. Maybe he was whiny but he was still Darry’s kid brother. And that’s all he ever wanted to be.