Hello, and welcome to what is essentially a massive collection of angsty but sometimes fluffy Outsiders fanfics!
I absolutely love to receive feedback but please be kind/constructive. If I have missed any tags that need to be added for warnings or safety please let me know. Or for easy searching.
Because I write way too much, here is a "Masterlist of Masterlists." When you click them; 1) beware there are many. 2) I tried to include descriptions (and word counts) but I am better at writing than summarizing. Thanks for reading!!
Outsiders Masterlist Index
Post-Canon (Canon-Compliant)
Post-Canon AU (Dallas Lives)
Pre-Canon, Mid-Canon, or AU (all greasers are alive)
Imagines for Johnny, Ponyboy, Darry, Two-Bit, Multiple Greasers
Imagines for Soda and Dallas
Short Series (longer storylines with multiple parts)
Requests/Asks
Always welcome! There are some topics I may not be comfortable doing but you can always ask. I also have some specific scenarios listed in Q&A below. I cover a lot of trauma and abuse-related topics but try to handle these in a healthy way. I don't post explicit or gratuitous smut, there are minors here, but do also cover some topics related to sexuality and other adult topics. I generally try to tag accordingly but if I miss something feel free to comment to request a tag or warning.
Also, while I have nothing against shipping, my headcanon loves the gang having brotherly and platonic love so that's usually what I write. Sometimes I leave it open to interpretation.
Anybody is welcome to message me, but since some of my works cover adult topics, please tell me if you don't want me to assume that you are also an adult. And because this is the internet and I grew up in the time of heavy worry about internet creeps...I am a weirdo but not a creep. I am here for good wholesome platonic fun.
Q&A's
No one asked this, but you should know that, since this is a hobby and I'm trying not to be a perfectionist, I usually write things and post them (rough draft and all) pretty quickly. Like, sometimes I posted within an hour of starting a fic. So there are spelling errors and small grammatical errors at times that you are welcome to point out. :)
What will I and won't I write? (Note that this is a general idea not "the law")
Shipping? Meh. To each their own. Enjoy reading it sometimes but my headcanon is that the guys are family, not partners. Usually when I get ship requests I write it as gen but where it could be open to interpretation. Here's a little more detail on my opinion personally (I don't judge others' preferences!)
Why haven't I written more Johnny? I started out writing insanely long post canon fics without Johnny in them, so just haven't written him much (yet)
What level of "explicit" do I write for romance? Usually PG-13 but sometimes R-rated. I only write smut that serves the storyline in some way.
How did I post so fast? I sometimes cannibalize my own long stories. I started writing these fics maybe a year before I started posting on Tumblr, then went haywire and posted about 100 times in 3 days and 400 times in January 2026.
Am I ignoring or rejecting an ask request if I haven't responded? No - explanation here. Also, here's a little more detail on why I might be delayed. Essentially boils down to "I let my brain go where it wants to go, and do what feels easy and like good hobby-therapy in the moment." So sometimes I go in spurts and dry spells with certain characters or storylines.
Also, I have not seen the full musical yet. Yes, it is a travesty. Asks with musical characters will live in my inbox until I know those characters well enough to write them.
is my Google history ridiculous because of fanfiction? Yes.
I can't kill main characters unless they died in the source material. My brain will flash a blue error screen and not give us a story.
Note on language, swearing, and crude humor.
I question whether or not I'm a good source of advice on this, but linking also my response to request for writing advice.
My Other AO3 Outsiders Fics:
Most of my one-shots are adapted from the stories below. So if you want to see all of those storylines woven together, with non-reader OCs, then check them out!
Soda and the Soc follows all the greasers post-canon, romance and friendship, kids, finding careers, etc. lot of trauma healing and supporting each other. Insanely long and ongoing, started as a Soda story and kind of spiraled out of control. Many of my one-shots are adapted/modified from this. -PG-13 sexual content. Here is a timeline of story events (not yet complete) if you want to see if it looks up your alley. I am starting to note in each of my master lists, whether or not these storylines appear in some form in my longer fics. For the Soda story will use: 🔧 If you want to read this fic on Tumblr here is the index with links to the complete story.
Dallas Winston Lives (combined story of "Saving Dallas" and "Dallas Finds Love"). Diverges from canon after Johnny's death. I recommend reading it on AO3 anyway due to length and I got tired of transferring it over. PG-13/maybe R sexual content. Here is a timeline summary of events for the combined story (in progress) if you're interested. I am starting to note in each of my master lists, whether or not these storylines appear in some form in my longer fics. For the Dallas story will use: 🗡️
Below is a sample of Saving Dallas if you want to try it out before hopping over to AO3. :).
Part 1 (6328)
Part 2 (4875)
Part 3 (3326)pl
Part 4 (3107)
Please message me if you want to be added to or removed from my permanent taglist below!
If you want, could you write something where Tim and Johnny have to get Dally out of some kind of predicament?
thank you!!!
Hi everyone - sorry I've been missing, life has been pretty busy and a bit challenging lately! I probably won't be here as regularly as I was for a bit, but I am still alive, still happy to take requests (just the turnaround may not be as fast as usual), and trying to get my writing mojo back with a little mini-fic here.
Dally's Mouth
Tim Shepard is not Johnny’s favorite person.
Johnny can hold his own, but he prefers not to seek out more trouble than he’s already got, and the Shepard boys are magnets for trouble. Tim has gotten Dally into more scrapes than anyone else, and Ponyboy has a bad habit of making terrible decisions when Curly is around. Johnny has a low tolerance for it; he and his buddies have enough problems without inviting more.
However, he has no idea how to get Dallas out of the trouble he’s in on his own, and unfortunately he thinks that Tim may be the only one who would know how to get him out.
So he knocks on Tim’s door.
“Mini-Winston,” Tim drawls when he opens it. “What are you doing here?”
Johnny is already annoyed, but he bites his tongue. “Dally’s in trouble.”
Tim snorts. “Dally’s always in trouble.”
Johnny huffs in frustration. “You think I’d be here if it wasn’t bad?”
Tim sobers then. “What happened?”
“He was sauced at Buck’s, and he mouthed off to the wrong guy. They took it outside, but Dal won and the guy ain’t letting it go,” Johnny starts.
“And?” Tim asks, eyebrow raised.
“He’s a big deal in the Tigers,” Johnny tells him quietly, and Tim lets out a string of muttered curses.
“Why’d you come to me?” Tim asks.
“Because Darry and the guys…they don’t run the streets the same way you do,” Johnny admits, the words feeling like they need to be dragged out of him. “They’d do anything for Dal, but they don’t know how to handle this. And neither do I. But I figured you would. And Dal don’t want us involved in his beef, so he ain’t gonna tell us how to help him.”
Tim curses again and pinches the bridge of his nose. Then he looks up at Johnny. “Alright, id, here’s how we’re gonna play this. I know a guy over there. I’ll talk to him and see if he can get his dog in line. If he can’t, you need to get your guys ready. Is there anything you ain’t telling me? Did Dal win the fight fair and square?” Johnny nods. “Then, if they don’t back down, be prepared for a rumble. We’ll stand with you. Maybe they’ll back off if they gotta go through twenty guys to take their pound of flesh, but if not? Then I guess we’ll have a fun Saturday night.” Tim grins wickedly. “Go brief Curtis. Get ‘em ready,” he instructs more seriously. “I’ll find you.”
“Thanks, Tim,” Johnny says quietly.
“Don’t get mushy, Mini-Winston,” Tim scoffs. “Keeping Winston around is in my best interest, too. I ain’t doing anybody any favors here.”
Johnny nods at Tim, and he doesn’t’ call him on the fact that for a second Tim looked concerned. He heads to tell Darry, even though he’s dreading it and he’s pretty sure Dal is gonna be furious.
Darry is, predictably, furious. If Dally don’t get murdered by a Tiger, Darry’s next in line. But Johnny also knows that there’s no way that Darry ain’t gonna look out for Dallas, no matter how furious he is.
Dallas is also furious with Johnny for going to both Darry and to Shepard, which is harder to deal with. But Johnny still doesn’t regret it. Even if he is kinda slinking around and feeling like a puppy that just got swatted with a newspaper anytime he’s around the gang.
He tenses when Tim suddenly walks into the living room at the Curtis house.
“It’s done,” Tim says, simply. Dallas looks at him. “You shouldn’t have no more problems if you keep your mouth shut for once.”
“When pigs fly,” Darry mutters, and Dallas glares at him. Darry turns to Tim. “Thanks, Shepard.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tim waves him off dismissively. “I don’t do favors. Winston’s useful in a rumble. I prefer the odds if he ain’t dead.”
And then Tim stalks back out without another word.
The room is dead silent for a minute.
“You still shoulda minded your own business, Johnnycake,” Dallas grumbles.
“You are my business,” Johnny retorts, and everyone else looks as surprised that he said it as Johnny feels. Johnny swallows hard. He knows Dallas doesn’t do sentiment, so he chooses his words carefully. “You always look out for me. Maybe I just want to return the favor once in awhile.”
Dallas gives him a single sharp nod, which for Dallas is about as close to a “heartwarming moment” as you can get.
Two-Bit breaks the tension. “Hey, maybe we oughtta invest in a muzzle for Dal here. At least then maybe we could get some sleep once in awhile without having to worry about a rival gang throwing bricks through the window.”
Dallas tackles him in the living room. Despite the brawl, though, it’s the most relaxed the house has been all week.
This one is silly as a premise and may feel out of character, but it popped into my head after another fic (don't ask why, it was a more normal Dally x reader story lol). so here it is. Debated on posting TBH.
Basically Dallas gets choked up over something reader (girlfriend) says, then teased, then convinces the guys you are some kind of witch that can make anyone cry. (He ends up being right.)
Sometimes Dallas is so very tired of what he calls your "emotional voodoo witchery." Thus far, he has been able to keep the rest of the gang from being aware of the fact that you have this absolutely uncanny ability to ask exactly the right (or wrong) question to make him break down, or to give him love or compassion in a way he is completely unable to handle. He is tired of it, and also it's addicting. To be understood. To be loved even when you're a disaster.
You've met the rest of the gang several times, but you feel like you've known them a lot longer through what you've heard from Dallas. You and Dallas stop by the Curtis house to hang out, maybe watch a movie or some Mickey, and in your case watch the boys try to cheat each other at cards.
And then it happens.
Dallas snaps at you over something small. He's been irritable most of the day. (Really most of the week.). Obviously you call him out if he pushes you too far, but for the most part you just kind of adapt to his mood swings. You're not a saint; sometimes you get frustrated. But you understand that he gets in his head about things sometimes, and that he goes through spells where he doesn't know how to trust that people actual care without pushing back. When Two-Bit half-jokingly asks if you're gonna take that or if you're gonna head out the door, today Dallas has been pushing a lot of buttons and you respond almost without stopping to think.
You make direct eye contact with Dallas. "Yeah I know that he should be talking nicer to his girlfriend," you look at him pointedly. "But sometimes he's gotta push me to prove to himself that I'm not going anywhere."
The room goes absolutely silent, and Dallas freezes. He lights a cigarette, but his hands are shaking. You feel terrible, honestly, because he's got his jaw clenched and is staring at the cigarette in his hands like it somehow has the answers to how to keep himself stitched together. He swallows hard, blinking furiously.
"Whoa," Two-Bit says, leaning forward with his eyes wide. "Is... is Dal choking up?"
Dally's face goes bright red and he ducks his head, swiping violently at his eyes. "Shut up," he says voice thick. Suddenly he points at you. "She's dangerous, man. I'm telling you, she's got some kinda voodoo. I think she might be a witch." The room erupts in laughter at that. "I ain't joking! She has this freaky way of getting in your head. I dare you. Talk to her for ten minutes and she'll have you bawling like a damn baby. She does it all the time."
Two-Bit leans forward with a wicked, delighted grin spreading across his face. "What do you mean all the time, Dal?" Two-Bit cackles, pointing his beer bottle at him. "You telling me big, bad Winston gets a little 'voodoo' talk and turns into a leaky faucet?"
Dallas looks like he wants to sink through the floorboards, face beet red. "Shut your trap, Mathews!" Dally tries to snarl but is still choked up. He gestures wildly at you again. "I'm tellin' you, she’s a pro. She finds a sore spot and she just pokes it until you pop. She could make Genghis Khan blubber."
Ponyboy is looking at you now with a mix of awe and genuine fear, shifting away from you on the couch. "Is he telling the truth?"
"I don't know," you say, your voice small as you look around at the circle of expectant faces. "I just talk to people. I'm not trying to do anything."
"I'm tellin' you, she's a witch!" Dally says, flustered. "She starts all innocent and then bam—you're thinking about your childhood and every bad thing you been through."
Two-Bit looks at you curiously. His face breaks out in a wide, goofy grin. "Alright, 'Voodoo Lady.' Give me your best shot. Do me."
"What?" you ask, flabbergasted.
"See if you can break me. I'm unbreakable. I think Winston's going soft."
You look around the room, and Johnny and Ponyboy are watching to see how this plays out. Dally's expression is somewhere between"don't do it" and "please show them I'm not the only weak one."
You look at Two-Bit. "You're asking me to try to make you cry?"
He nods, and the other guys are kind of sitting forward watching the show.
"It doesn't work like that!" you sigh. "Ugh. Fine. There's no winning for me here. Either I fail or I get to feel bad for making you cry."
Two-Bit snorts. "I won't hold it against you. But you ain't gonna break me anyhow." You look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he nods to encourage you to go ahead.
"Dally thinks I have a weird voodoo power because I grew up having to read people, and having to manage everybody else's feelings around me. Keep the ship afloat." You kind of hate this, and you don't know what exactly you're supposed to say here. So you decide to just talk. "But sometimes it was like I was wearing a mask. Do you ever feel like that, with your jokes?" Two-Bit looks at you in surprise. "Like you gotta put the mask on before you fall apart. And sometimes the mask is too tight; and it kinda hurts but it's kinda all you know." You give him a small smile, but he's looking down. "And a part of you is relieved every time the mask works, but then there's another part of you that screams for somebody to notice, to see behind your mask and notice that you're drowning." Two-Bit is looking at you with his mouth slightly open and his eyes are suspiciously bright.
"I heard somebody say once that they were a comedian because they knew what it felt like to feel unbearably sad and lonely and worthless. That they decided to spend their lives making people laugh to so that they wouldn't have to feel that same pain."
Two-Bit is cracking. His jaw is tense, and he's blinking rapidly, no longer looking you in the eye.
"Sometimes I wonder if you see yourself the way people around you do," you say softly. "Or at least, the way I do. The way I think people see you if they're actually looking. You're good for so much more than just a laugh. You're smart and creative - nobody can crack wise like that if they aren't. You're loyal to the people you love, and not just on their good days. You're a good guy, even when you try to pretend you're not."
He fights it. You can see it on his face that he's fighting hard.
"I know it's hard to believe sometimes, the good things, when you've been let down by people and judged. But you're pretty great if people are paying attention."
That does it. He turns away, swiping aggressively at his eyes and swearing under his breath. "You're not supposed to be making stuff up," Two-Bit jokes, voice thick.
"I'm not," you tell him softly. He swears again, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eyes and breathing shakily.
"I told you," Dallas says. "She's a goddamn menace."
"I knew this was a bad idea," you say anxiously. "Can I at least hug you or something now?"
Two-Bit laughs then, but it's a little bit hysterical. He is still hiding his face, but he gestures for you to come over. When you hug him, he holds you tightly, tremors running through his body. He doesn't sob, but you can feel that he's working hard not to.
When he pulls back, he wipes his face on the inside of his shirt and his face is almost as red as his hair.
Darry walks in then, and is immediately alarmed when he sees Two-Bit. "What happened?"
"Dally's girlfriend is a witch," Ponyboy tells him.
Darry whirls on you. He likes you, or at least he did, but Two is his brother. Before he can tell you off, Two-Bit speaks.
"Not the kind you're thinking," he says, sniffing. "It's my own damn fault. I asked for it."
Darry looks confused now, and the guys explain. If anything, he looks more bewildered at the end of the explanation. "So you jokers are sitting around having Dal's girl say sweet things to you until you break down? That's the entertainment tonight?" He shakes his head, then he gives Two a teasing grin. "You the only one she got so far?"
"Apparently she gets Dal on a regular basis," Ponyboy chimes in. Dallas turns red, glaring.
"Y'all are a bunch of knuckleheads with too much time on your hands," Darry says gruffly, grinning.
Two-Bit gives him a taunting grin. "You're just knocking it because you're afraid you'd crumble if she went after you, Superman."
Darry snorts. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."
Dallas grins wickedly at you. "Get him, doll."
You roll your eyes. "I'm not a sniper, Dallas. I'm not gonna sit here trying to break people who didn't ask for it." (You say "ask for it" pointedly with a look at Two-Bit.)
Darry has never backed down from a challenge. "Nah. You know what? Go ahead." You turn to look at Darry in shock. "Lay it on me. You think I ain't dealt with enough cheap shots to be able to handle myself? Show these goons that they're making something outta nothing." He grins at both Dallas and Two mischievously. "Guess you two are going soft."
Dallas is now pleading with his eyes for you to do it. You look back at Darry, who has a determined glint in his eye, and you let out a groan.
"You're really sure that you're gonna be fine," you observe. "Which is great. None of this was my idea." You pause. "The fact that you're so sure...when's the last time you did cry over anything, Darry?"
"What does that matter?" He asks, flustered.
"Humor me."
"When I had to go to the morgue. To identify..." he swallows hard. He doesn't have to finish. Then he steels himself again, and he looks you in the eye defiantly. "That all you got?"
"That's a long time," you say softly. "To carry everything you do without breaking a little?"
"I ain't got time to break," he says harshly.
"I know," you concede. "You take care of the house, the bills, the boys... I'm sure you have to just shove everything that hurts down, so you can get up and do it all again the next day."
Darry looks at you sharply.
"God, sometimes it hits me that you were only twenty when you got thrown into a position where the world would crash down around you if you took a minute to breathe."
Darry has his fists clenched now. "I do what I have to do," he mutters, but his voice has lost its edge. "Don't make a big deal over things that are just life."
"It is a big deal, though," you tell him. "A lot of people wouldn't have done what you did. And I don't want to assume, but I think it's gotta be lonely, too. Carrying it alone because you want to protect everyone else. Feeling like you work yourself to death, turn yourself inside out for everybody else, and it still never feels like enough? Being mad at yourself when you're a grizzly bear, but you're so worried and tired that you don't have the energy to be anything else."
Darry's jaw is clenched so tight now it looks like his teeth could shatter.
"I know you don't do a lot of flowery sentimental declarations, but you love so deeply," you say quietly. "And it's gotta be hard when people see you lose your cool, and don't see that part. That you take care of people when they fight you on it or lash out. That you keep showing up and loving them in your own quiet, steady ways, even when they're mad at you. Even when you're mad at yourself."
Darry's breathing is ragged. He clears his throat. "Okay, enough." When you ask if you can hug him, Darry looks like you just asked him to walk over hot coals. But he stands up, anyway. He hugs you for a minute, and then he roughly pulls back and storms out the door.
You are stunned, looking at the guys. And you decide that you are the one who went along with this stupid idea, so you head out to make things right.
You're kind of expecting Darry to be tense and angry. You're not expecting to find him sitting at the side of the house, head buried in his knees and shoulders shaking. You walk over and sit next to him. You hesitate, then wrap an arm around his shoulders. He doesn't shrug you off.
You sit with him for a long time, just waiting.
"Being a damn baby," he mutters eventually, when the sobs have tapered off.
"Sounds like you were overdue. You been holding everything and everybody together for a long time now. Pretty sure even Superman takes a break once in awhile." He snorts at that.
"You were right," he admits. "About the being tired, and lonely, and hating myself when I let 'em down or snap at 'em." He lets out a shaky sigh. "Sometimes I think my folks would be real disappointed in me. When I lose it and yell at Pony or Soda."
"I know I didn't know 'em," you say softly. "But from what y'all have told me, I'm pretty sure they'd be really proud of you."
Darry stands up with a groan and offers you a hand. "Never been dreading going into my own house this much before," he mutters. He squares his shoulders and heads in.
He points a finger around the room when he enters. "Not one word," he warns. He looks at Pony and Johnny on the couch. Then he turns to you. "And for God's sakes, leave the kids alone."
"The kids?" Ponyboy squawks indignantly, seeming to forget what he's even arguing to be a part of.
You speak before Darry fires back. "It's not about not respecting you or thinking you're capable, Pony," you tell him. "Sometimes people are protective because they just love you so much that they can't stand the idea of something hurting you. Even if they think you're strong enough to handle it." You pause and smile at him. "I bet you anything they're still like this when you're forty. You don't stop looking out for a kid brother just because they grow up." Ponyboy looks at Darry, who is looking back with this almost pleading look in his eyes. Begging Ponyboy to understand that it's exactly how he feels, even when he can't find or get out the words.
You're pretty sure that look from Darry, not your words, is the reason that Ponyboy has to turn away and swipe at his eyes.
The room is fairly quiet after that. You all watch some cartoons, but you're all only half paying attention.
When Soda and Steve get there, Soda has immediately cottoned on to the fact that something happened. "Why does it look like y'all came from a funeral?" he asks warily.
And then there's another round of explanations, to which Soda mostly looks curious and Steve looks skeptical.
"Compliments?" Soda asks, confused. "Why? I mean, it ain't like Mom and Dad didn't give 'em out a lot."
"It's not just compliments, Soda," Dallas says. "It's like ripping your ribcage open, finding your deepest wounds, and then lancing 'em like a boil." He gives you an almost exasperated look. "Swear to God, she can see into your soul. It's fucking creepy."
Soda's eyes gleam. He turns to you, and you're already groaning about where this is headed. "Do me."
Dallas laughs. "Soda, you cry at those humane society commercials. That ain't a challenge."
Soda flips him off.
"That's not exactly true," you say, eyes glancing between the two. Then you look at Soda. "I don't think you're as easy of a crier as they think. Yeah, you tear up, and you don't shame yourself over it. But in all the time I've known you... I've seen you tear up at commercials, and sappy cards. movies, sweet moments, but I've never seen you really cry. There's a difference between tearing up and bawling. And when you tear up, I can't remember ever seeing you do it about anything that was hurting you. I've seen you cry for other people, but I've never once seen you cry for yourself." Soda is looking back at you like you just flayed him open. "You smile and keep everybody else happy, and I'm pretty sure you'd do it even if, or when, you felt like you were dying inside."
Soda's lip trembles. He bites down on it, eyes shining, and chokes down a sob.
After a few minutes of quiet where Soda is chewing on his lip and clearly trying not to bawl, Dallas elbows you. "Johnnycake feels left out."
The room erupts in groans, and Johnny looks embarrassed.
"You don't gotta try to make him weepy," Dallas says drily. He looks at Johnny, then turns back to you. "Just think he oughta hear some good things from somebody."
"He ain't gonna get it from his folks and his friends are a bunch of emotionally repressed jackasses," Soda adds with a still wobbly grin.
"Okay, it's not hard to give Johnny a compliment. But we're done with this game. I feel guilty enough already," you tell them. "Johnny, you inspire me so much." He looks at you in shock. "You live in a situation, with people, that could make you hard and cruel. You've survived things that can break people down, or make 'em hate the world, and sure, you've gotten real tough. You're resilient. But you've also had enough strength to hang on to yourself. You're kinder and more compassionate than you'd expect anyone to be with how you've been raised. You have dealt with so much darkness to still have as much light inside as you do."
Johnny is looking at you, eyes bright, like you just told him everything he has ever wanted to hear. He nods at you, swallowing hard. He doesn't say anything, including thank you out loud, but you're not sure that he can. You glance around and see a lot of affectionate looks in Johnny's direction.
When the moment has passed, and you're all half-watching the cartoons again while Darry starts dinner, Dallas leans in to you. "Do Steve."
You glare at him. "Again, not a compliment-sniper."
"Yes you are," he argues. "You hit me outta nowhere all the time with sweet shit." He gives you a grin dripping with faux innocence. "What, can't you come up with anything nice for Stevie? He's gonna think you don't like him."
"I know exactly what you're doing," you tell him, rolling your eyes.
"Okay," he sighs. "Guess Steve just ain't gonna hear nothing nice today."
"Quit it," you tell him. "You're full of it. You're just trying to see if I can make Steve cry."
"Which I can answer right now," Steve pops out with. "You think after the shit I hear from my old man I'm gonna fall to pieces over hearing something a little sweet? Please." He scoffs.
It's all over. You can see it a mile away. Dallas is gonna taunt Steve until he's begging you to eviscerate him. One of Dally's lesser known talents is his ability to find someone's buttons and just smash 'em down over and over.
It takes about ten minutes of Dallas throwing out pointed comments.
"Jesus, I'll prove it!" Steve finally snaps. "Come on, Witch Lady. Hit me with your best shot."
"I'm not a fan of the new nickname," you say with a small smile. "And it's not an attack. It's just me talking about things that I notice and things I admire about people until I run out of steam or get cut off."
"Waving a white flag or something?" Steve teases.
"Or something," you say, and Dallas clarifies that the "or something" is "someone cries."
"We all know you're a tough guy, so no thinking that any of the rest of what I'm gonna say is meant to take away from that," you start. "You're a really good friend, and even though you show it in small ways you have a real big heart." Steve lets out a huff. "You look out for Ponyboy even while you're complaining about him tagging along. I've seen you. You remind Soda when he starts to head out the door without his shoes. You slip money into Darry's emergency fund when you think no one's looking." He turns pale, and Darry stops to give him a hard look. "You get flack sometimes for egging on Two-Bit or Dally, but I've seen you a dozen times suggest something that's just a tiny bit less of a risk. If they want to climb and bungee off of a water tower, you'll talk 'em into a drag race instead." You pause and look at him almost apologetically. "You don't talk about your old man in any kind of detail, except when Johnny's having trouble with his. You don't share the painful stuff for your own benefit. You do it so Johnny won't feel alone with it." Steve's jaw muscles start working, then, and he's a little bit flushed. "I think you care more about the guys in this room than you do about yourself," you say softly. "And sometimes I wonder, with the way your old man treats you, if you question whether or not you deserve how much they care about you, too. If you deserve the loyalty." You look at him carefully, hoping this ain't too far. "When people who are supposed love you treat you badly, like you don't matter, it affects the way you see yourself. It wears on you, day in and day out, to keep trying to make somebody happy and it never ends up being enough. Maybe you blame yourself for that part of it; for not being able to figure out how to give him what he wants, for giving him whatever reason you can come up with to justify him treating you badly. And it's even harder, probably, because you're so protective and you still love him. And when he gives you these little breadcrumbs of affection, when he's being an actual dad, it reminds you of what you're missing on all those other days. It makes you try even harder to find the key to making him be that way all the time. There is no key, but you still blame yourself for not finding it, and it makes you feel like you're just not enough." You realize that Dallas and Johnny are both looking like they caught a stray bullet with that one. "You love the good parts, the guy you see just once in awhile, enough that on bad days all of the cruelest things you've heard probably echo around in your head. And you still protect him by blaming yourself." You look him in the eye. "Even though none of it is actually your fault."
Steve is staring down at his lap now. Suddenly he leans down to take off one shoe. You're confused, until he takes off a white sock and, sill staring at his lap, wave one in the air.
"Christ. You took out half the room with that one," Dallas mutters, voice thick as he aggressively wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "Any of you assholes got more comments about how I'm just going soft? Anybody need more proof that she's just lethal?"
There's a chorus of "Nope" and "we're good." Dinner that night is the quietest you've ever seen, but it feels peaceful, too.
https://www.tumblr.com/ambrosiustheunknown/810502152232599552/guys-wouldnt-it-be-so-funny-if-ponyboy-got this but w out the death and instead hurt/ mild comfort?
Geez. This is a lot for a oneshot even for me to put Pony through all at once. I'm not sure I am capable of tormenting Pony this much in a single short-fic, and for me that is really saying something. Though I would totally read it if someone else wrote this. And I totally applaud @ambrosiustheunknown for coming up with enough of a cluster-trauma to actually make me pause.
I can't get over this mental picture. It's like a "comedy of errors." The three stooges of tragedy? Anyone remember the game "Mousetrap"? It comes to mind here.
I will give this one some consideration (things are a bit busy at the moment, so it might be a bit. If my brain doesn't just totally error out and say it's too much angst for once).
Would it be possible to do a part 2 to Crying at the Movies? Since Dallas seemed to be upset about the potential of losing those he is closest to, and not having been able to express how he feels to anyone, maybe he tries to remedy that? Especially with Johnny, but with all of the gang?
Oooo, I will have to think on that one some, because it seems to me like such a big topic to try to do as a one-shot. A lot of my fics are little tiny steps in Dallas being able to connect and deal with feelings. If you want to see him go through that whole process post-canon, that is what my super long Dallas fics are all about. But if I can think of a way to one-shot it, I love the idea!
Kind of made a part 2, but could technically be a one-shot.
Dally on Crying
It took Dallas a solid week, at least, after the crying episode that he refused to acknowledge, before he quits feeling like he has to be the toughest guy in the room at all times. It's maybe two more weeks after that before he feels like he's acting normally around his buddies. To be honest, he kind of hates himself for being a jackass after he broke down during the film on movie night. His buddies didn't deserve him being such a bear, had handled it as well as Dallas could have hoped (unless he could have just kept them from noticing at all). They didn't treat him with kid gloves or like they thought he was broken.
If he's honest, Dallas feels broken a lot of the time. It's part of why he works so hard to make sure nothing can touch him again. He's so full of cracks that another one might make him shatter.
He can't take the risk, so even though the movie also made him think about the possibility of losing his buddies, he can't drop his walls. The walls are fortified more than ever, even while he beats himself up about the fact that he's not even nice of friendly enough for his gang to know that he gives a shit about 'em., much less loves 'em. A part of him wants them to know. The part that still can't forgive himself for how much he talked back to Mr. and Mrs. Curtis. But Dallas has been wounded a thousand times too many, and no matter how he feels he still can't stop pushing 'em away.
They have all, always, been the kind of guys who would razz each other to show affection. Dally's brand of that is usually pretty barbed, but he doesn't aim to actually hurt them for real. Other than when they've hurt him, of course. Those times, he'll lash out with cruelty that coats him in shame once he calms down and realizes they weren't trying to hurt him. And that they probably don't even know what does hurt him; he's too guarded to let anyone see when he's hurt. Even the people he loves the most.
Things blow up on movie night about a month after Dallas embarrassed himself.
Two-Bit started teasing Steve about getting choked up on the movie they'd watched the week before, and then then Steve was giving Two a hard time about the one a few movies before that, and it quickly devolved into an argument and an arm-wrestling contest. They're getting ready to start another movie when Two-Bit's need to have the last word rears its head.
He pulls out a poster board. A damn poster board. Even spent money on it when he got caught trying to sneak it out of the store. (Apparently even Two-Bit has his limits with shoplifting.)
It's got each of their names listed on one side, a list of movie night movies on the other, and varying numbers of tallies by each of their names. At the top of the poster bird is scrawled "who sprung a leak?"
Dallas looks at the single tally mark by his name, and he feels like he's on fire.
The other guys are laughing, and for the most part seem fine with Two's stupid chart. Darry is rolling his eyes, but the corners of his mouth are turned up a little. The kids are a little embarrassed but laughing along and arguing over the accuracy of their tally marks.v Steve is quiet, but he doesn't look like he's about to blow. Soda could generally care less, secure in his belief that tough guys are allowed to cry, too. At least among family.
Dallas knows, at some level, that Two-Bit doesn't know. That none of the guys do.
Darry naturally has never been very emotional. He has a temper, sure, but in a lot of other ways he's level-headed. He doesn't know that Dallas rides a rollercoaster inside every day, and that showing only hardness and anger took work. That Dallas had to figure out, in order to survive, to ride those rollercoasters alone without letting anyone see that he was on a ride at all.
Two-Bit's father left, but from what Dallas understands the guy was more neglectful than abusive. Two-Bit doesn't know how many times Dallas was screamed at and shamed for reacting emotionally to any of the abuse he experienced at home. How Dallas was told, at least from the time he could walk, that real men don't cry and that he, and his emotions, were an embarrassment.
Steve's father is probably almost as bad as Dally's at times. But Steve doesn't know that Dallas spent every day of his life in hell, before he left his father's house. That crying never helped, and usually meant worse things were still coming.
Soda is emotional, but inside their house and their gang, he has always been told that it was okay when he cried. Soda doesn't have any idea what it's like to have someone look at you with nothing but hatred that somehow amplifies even more if you dare to shed even a single tear.
Johnny's house is no better than Dally's was, but for all of the Cades' failures as parents, they don't actually increase the abuse if Johnny cries. Johnny usually doesn't, and Dallas suspects it has to do with the fact that Johnny once told him that crying is futile anyhow. Johnny is soft in some ways, but he's also tough enough to take back the only bit of power he has over his parents- to not let them see him break. Johnny may understand Dallas better than anyone, but Dallas has never told him how many times, when he was too young and hurt to hold back, he was beaten more for crying over it. He doesn't know that Dally still has nightmares often about the time he couldn't stop crying during a beating. The tears, and the beating, stopped while Dallas was unconscious.
Ponyboy knows the way that his best friend has been affected by his parents' abuse. He has felt rage and sympathy and sadness over it, like they all have. For Johnny, but not for Dallas. Ponyboy doesn't know that Dally pretends to be hard and unfeeling not because he has never cared, but because he wouldn't have survived his childhood and adolescence otherwise. Ponyboy doesn't know, none of the gang probably do, that it hurts when the people closest to him only see the armor Dally developed to survive. Even though he knows that he's the reason they don't see; that he doesn't know how to take the armor off.
They're laughing. Maybe at all of them, but they're laughing at him, too. And a good part of why Dallas got so worked up in the first place is because he's let himself care about these jokers enough for the idea of losing them to hurt. And they're laughing at him aver it.
He feels like he can't breathe. He gets up from the couch and walks out the front door toward the lot.
He assumes, when no one comes after him immediately, that they're gonna let him go. And for some reason, that hurts, too, even though he left to be away from 'em.
He debates about heading further, but the lot's the only place that he's not likely to run across anyone. He feels like he's gonna break, and the last thing he need is one more person laughing at him over being weak.
He pretends that the wind is stinging his eyes and making them water, wiping his sleeve across his face furiously. His breath is ragged and his face, neck, and throat are tight when he gets to the lot and curls in on himself in the shadows.
Johnny is the first one to come. It's not a surprise.
"I'm fine, Johnnycake," Dallas grits out. "Go back to the movie."
"You're not fine, Dal. What's going on?" Johnny asks softly.
"Nothing," Dallas says, ignoring the way his voice breaks and hoping Johnny does the same. "Just leave me alone."
"I'm not leaving," Johnny says, and Dallas chokes down a sob.
"Goddammit. Go, Johnny," Dallas commands him, but it sounds more like a plea.
"No, Dal. I'm not leaving you."
"I'm not either," he hears Soda say, and Dallas lets out a string of broken curses as he feels both of 'em sit on either side of him.
He kind of wants to sink through the dirt when he hears Darry and Pony approach, followed by Two and Steve.
"Christ," Dallas mutters, voice splintered and thick. "Leave me alone. Go home."
"Nobody's gonna do that, Dallas," Darry says firmly. "Whether you talk or not. We ain't leaving you out here like this."
God, why does that make him cry harder?
Then Soda pulls him into a hug, and Johnny has a hand on his shoulder, and Dallas doesn't know why in the hell he starts but all of a sudden he's spilling his guts in broken fragments. About how and why he learned that people will hurt you if you cry, or show any weakness at all. About how he would take a bullet or a blade for any of them without hesitation but is terrified to even let them see that they mean something to him, because everyone he has ever cared about before has found a way to use it against him. How broken and alone he feels and how he still doesn't know how to stop pushing everyone away. How he hides himself from everyone, and then feels hurt when they don't see him. He tells them how ashamed he was of crying, how terrifying it is for anybody to see him like that.
He tells them, though he feels a rush of panic immediately after, that he thinks it would break him to lose any one of them, and that he doesn't think he can survive being broken one more time. That he's already held together with scotch tape and string, and he's so damn tired. That he doesn't think he has it in him to pick up the pieces of himself even one more time.
"Dal, you're not ever gonna have to pick the pieces up again alone," Soda says gently, and Dallas clutches at Soda's shirt, balling it in his fists.
"I'm sorry, Dally," he hears Two-Bit say quietly. "I thought you'd laugh with us, man. I never would've..." he pauses. "I know I'm kind of a jackass sometimes, but I wouldn't hurt you on purpose," he says awkwardly. "I figured we were all just a little embarrassed, but that it was all okay since we're family."
"And we all know you're tough, Dal," Johnny adds. "You got the least of them tally marks outta anybody. Even Superman and Steve."
"Imma let it slide for now, but you're on my list for that one, Johnnycake;" Steve warns lightly.
"You still wanna come watch the movie, Dal?" Ponyboy asks tentatively.
Dallas takes a deep breath and sighs. "Fine," he grumbles, voice rough. "But swear to God, if any of you assholes put another mark by my name, even a damn dot, I'm gonna break the fucking marker and possibly your hand."
"There's our buddy!" Two-Bit crows as they all stand up to head back to the house. Dallas manages a small smile while raising his middle finger.
When they get back to the house, Soda makes a big show of forcing Dally to cuddle with him and Johnny. Dally pretends he wants to stab the pair of 'em for it, but he doesn't pull away an inch.
I hate tagging and also hate trying to summarize fics for the masterlist lol. If you find a fic without tags, a summary, or a GOOD summary, you get an imaginary cookie if you send me a comment with any of those things. :)
Could you do a oneshot like dally's sick one, except with Steve? Maybe where Soda takes care of him?
How's this?
Steve's Fever
Steve Randle might be the most stubborn guy on the planet.
Steve is Soda's best buddy, and Soda loves him to a degree that Steve is occasionally embarrassed by.
Soda loves Steve, but his buddy is driving him up a wall.
They're working together at the station, and Soda clocked that Steve wasn't feeling quite up to par the second that he walked in.
"Your eyes look sick," Soda informs him almost immediately.
Steve looks at him incredulously. "My eyes look sick? What are you talking about?"
"Your eyes are kinda glassy. You just look like you don't feel good," Soda explains.
Steve shakes his head a little. "Man, you are...observant to a degree that's creepy." Soda laughs a little. "Seriously. It's fucking weird." Steve is smiling a little now, too. "I think I'm just tired or something. I'm fine." Soda looks at him, concerned. "Swear to God, lay off or I'm gonna start calling you Ma," Steve jokes, and for the time being Soda leaves it alone.
Soda continues to leave it alone when he hears Steve coughing while he's working on cars. But he worries. They're both working a double shift, and that's a long day even if you're feeling welll. Then he hears a large clatter, and he rushes to the garage.
Steve is sitting on the ground, and he waves him off. "I'm fine. I just tripped and dropped the damn wrench."
Soda doesn't believe him for a second. "You ain't dropped a wrench since we was four."
"Well I dropped one today," Steve snaps, then immediately starts hacking up a lung.
Soda waits, then tries a different tactic. "Just go home, buddy. I'll cover you."
"I said I'll be fine!" Steve snaps when he can breathe.
"You're not fine, you're sick!"
"Mind your own business."
"You are my business," Soda retorts.
"Well, I ain't quitting in the middle of this job, and that's my business."
Soda storms back inside muttering about stubborn knuckleheads.
For the next few hours, every time Soda sees Steve he is either flushed or white as a ghost. Soda's sore at him for being stubborn (and for being a jackass), but Soda takes him a Coke anyhow.
"Here, Steve. You need to drink something," Soda says.
"Just a minute," Steve mumbles from under the hood. "I gotta finish twisting the silver thing."
"What?" Soda asks, confused.
"I gotta turn the silvery thing while the engine's still asleep."
"Okay, I've had enough," Soda says firmly. "Now you ain't even making sense. Gimme the wrench."
Steve bats him away weakly and with unusually poor coordination. "Lay off, Soda."
"No," Soda says, and then he manages to press a hand to Steve's forehead. "Glory hallelujah. You're burning up." Soda grabs him by the arms basically bulldozing him into the main building through his protests. He gets Steve down onto the ratty couch in the break room.
Soda calls Darry, and by then he's feeling kinda sick from worry.
"Hello?"
"Dar, Steve's sick." Darry groans. "He ain't making sense, and he's burning up. Can you come get him?"
"Yeah, be right there," Darry tells him. "Probably the same thing Dal had last week."
Soda is glad they don't live far, because he's getting more worried about Steve by the second.
Darry walks in. "Where's he at?"
"Break room."
Darry goes in there, and Soda follows. "Come on, Steve," Darry booms. "I'm taking you home."
Steve shakes his head.
"It wasn't a question," Darry says firmly.
"I can't go home," he says. And then he does a very un-Steve-like thing and bursts into tears. Darry looks at Soda helplessly.
"Buddy, what's wrong?" Soda asks gently, kneeling by him.
"My dad's home. And he's drinking, and he's gonna be real mad if I come home without the paper." Soda wrinkles his nose on confusion about "the paper" but lets that part go.
Darry tries to suggest he take Steve to their house, but Steve is all worked up and not really processing too well. He just keeps getting more and more upset.
"Pepsi, I'm gonna run and get some medicine from next door. You try to calm him down. He ain't thinking straight. We're gonna have to break his fever before we do anything, unless we want to wrestle him into the truck."
"Okay," Soda says, kneeling and talking to Steve softly.
It takes him about as long to calm Steve as it does for Darry to get back from the shop. Darry immediately makes Steve take a few tablets of something, and then eat a couple of crackers to try to make sure it stays down. Then the bell rings signaling a customer.
"I got this," Darry says. "Steve likes you better, he'll be calmer with you. I'll go take care of the customers. You start wiping him down with some ice water or something. Just try to get him cooler."
Darry disappears. And Soda is flinching when he gets the clean rag full of ice water. He hates this. Steve is gonna flip. Soda has always been soft-hearted enough that, any time he and Darry have had to do this with Pony, Soda has bawled the whole time.
Soda puts the cloth on Steve's face.
"'ts too cold, Soda," Steve groans. "Stop."
"I know, honey. We gotta bring down your fever," he murmurs. "You're too hot."
"I'm not hot, I'm cold," Steve whines. "Quit it, Soda."
Soda tries telling him to take off his shirt, but he just continues to say no and that he is cold. Soda talks to Steve in low, soothing tones... the same ones he uses when Ponyboy has a nightmare.
It doesn't seem to help much. Steve is not fighting him, but Soda actually thinks that that would feel better than what's going on right now. Steve just keeps pleading with him to stop, asking why he's being mean to him, and, heartbreakingly, mumbling promises that he'll be good and to please just make it stop, Soda. Steve has hot tears rolling down his face. Soda wipes his eyes with his sleeve, and keeps trying to keep his voice steady and soothing, even though he's crying with Steve at this point.
By the time it's done, Soda is barely holding it together mostly. He manages to get Steve settled, and Soda is teary but he's calming down. Until Steve lets out a broken mumble that he wants Mom. Soda doesn't know if he means his own mom or if he means Mrs. Curtis, but it breaks Soda's heart a little bit either way. Between that and feeling like he was torturing his best buddy a minute ago, as soon as Steve is out Soda puts his head in his hands and just cries.
When Darry comes back, Soda wipes at his face and tries to pull it together.
"Oh, Pepsi," Darry murmurs. "Was it that bad?"
Soda doesn't really answer, breath hitching, before Darry pulls him into a hug. Darry holds him until he calms down. "He ain't thinking straight, Soda," Darry tries to reassure him. "Whatever he said or did, he's gonna appreciate you taking care of him once he's back in his right mind."
"I know," Soda chokes out. "It ain't just that." Soda blinks as a fresh wave of tears escape. "When we have to do this, no matter who it's for-" he sobs out loud once. "I just miss Mom."
Darry hugs him a little tighter. "I know, little buddy. I do, too," Darry whispers, sounding a little bit choked up, too.
Darry stays with the two of them even after Soda calms down. Steve sleeps soundly for a couple of hours. When he wakes up, his fever is still high but not to the point where it's "cooking the few brain cells he's got left," as Darry put it once Steve was awake enough to be pissed off.
They're able to get him into the truck and home with them, even if Steve does end up "working" his whole shift.
Steve does give Soda one genuine thank you for taking care of him, and for once Soda is the one to tease Steve about being a sap. Steve then spends the rest of the week retaliating by jokingly calling Soda "Ma" anytime he hovers over him or does anything too awful caring.
They get through one more hurdle since losing their folks, on their own but also together.
hi!! i would love love something inspired by this or even just the gang realizing ponys not home immediately because he’s in a strangers car. people don’t care enough about this fact !! tysm
OK, I don't know that I can do an entire kidnapping arc as a one shot, but since the ask said "inspired by" I took some leeway :)
Also serious trigger warnings for suicidality (Dallas) as well as attempted sexual assault. Also Pony is delirious so the fic focuses on Darry and Dallas.
The original inspiration for this ask/fic is from @ambrosiustheunknown
The Night Johnny Died (AU)
Dallas wakes up in the hospital after being shot. He barely has time to process the fact that he's still alive, or how much pain he is in, before he sees Darry.
Darry looks worried, and so much older than twenty.
"Goddammit, Dallas," Darry says hoarsely. "You scared the hell out of us. Jesus Christ." Darrry's voice breaks, and it makes Dally's chest clinch. "We hadn't seen you or Pony for hours. We thought y'all were just spending some extra time with Johnny given how bad off he was..". Darry swallows a sob. "And then we got called that you were here, and we went by Johnny's room while we were waiting for you to wake up," Darry says quietly.
Dallas closes his eyes, because Darry's eyes are shining too brightly, and Dallas doesn't think he can take the shame of breaking down in front of Darry on top of everything else he's starting to feel.
Then Darry says something that makes Dallas's blood run cold. "Do you know where my brother is?" Dally's eyes snap open. His throat hurts, and he rubs at it. "You had to have surgery," Darry says, answering the question he hadn't asked. "Your throat hurts from the tube they put down your throat to breathe."
"I ran," Dallas admits, horrified and flooded with even more shame. "When Johnny died. I couldn't take it and I ran." He's vaguely aware that the monitor in his room is beeping faster now. "Oh my God. Pony." Dallas tries to sit up, but the pain is blinding and he collapses back, crying out.
"Hold still, knucklehead. You've been shot," Darry says it almost teasingly despite his voice being thick. And the fact that Darry is teasing him, taking care of him, after what he has done almost breaks him. "The boys are looking for him," Darry tells Dallas.
"Why aren't you?" Dallas asks.
"I have been," Darry says. "We've been taking turns staying here with you."
"Why?" Dally asks, embarrassed at how his voice breaks. Dairy gives him a look that is equal parts sad and authoritative. "Because none of us trusted you not to run off and try again when the nurses weren't looking," he says quietly.
At that point, Dallas loses the battle. He closes his eyes, and when he can tell that the tears are going to fall anyway, he pulls the thin hospital blanket over the top of his head and tries not to sob.
It's an agonizing couple of hours before anyone knows where Ponyboy is. They don't find him. In a way, he finds them.
The person who brought him into the hospital, doesn't know what happened exactly. She was a kind older lady who had been heading home when she saw Ponyboy slumped against a wall. Despite the safety risk, she apparently couldn't drive away and leave a kid like that, greaser or not. So she loaded their barely conscious brother into her car and drove him to the hospital.
She pulls Darry aside before leaving, and tells him that she's not sure what exactly happened to his brother. But that he panicked and tried to fight her over getting into the car. And she noticed that his clothes weren't done up quite right.
Darry feels sick between the guilt and the worry. He should have gone looking sooner. He just got his brother back, and he's already failing him.
Ponyboy is too delirious to give much of a coherent story, but his brothers piece it together, mostly, over the next day. The woman who brought him into the hospital was n not the first car he had gotten into. And possibly the only reason he's here at all is that he has enough experience with fighting that he was able, even delirious and injured,
to fight hard enough to get away.
When Dallas finds out what happened, he wishes he still had his heater. If he did, he wouldn't have seen another sunrise. He refuses to say anything to anyone after that, and he doesn't eat. He just lays there and listens to the voice in his head telling him, over and over, how badly he failed both Johnny and Ponyboy. And he wishes the guys would stop the constant bedside vigil, because all he wants is to find a way to end things.
He doesn't deserve to be here when Johnny isn't.
He doesn't deserve to have the guys watching over him like he's actually worth keep around.
He doesn't deserve kindness, much less forgiveness, after how badly he failed those kids.
He deserves the pain he's feeling, but he also can't bear it.
Darry is losing it.
His kid brother is still out of his mind with fever and shock. And dammit, even though Dally's a huge pain in the ass a lot of the time, he's Darry's kid brother, too. He can't lose anybody else, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Dallas has given up on everything other than finding a way to die.
Normally he and Dal just argue nd blow up at each other when one of them's being stubborn. (Usually because of Dallas being reckless.). But for the first time since he's known him, Dally doesn't seem to have any fight in him. Darry has never seen Dallas look so young, so lost. So completely beaten down before. Not even when he was fresh off the train from New York at thirteen.
Darry hopes that Ponyboy doesn't remember whatever happened to him in that first car. But even if Pony doesn't remember, Soda is probably never gonna forget what little Pony managed to tell them. Pepsi cried for over an hour after he realized what had happened.
Darry's more angry with himself than he's ever been, because he started all of this when he hit his brother. It's his fault, and he doesn't think that what's left of the gang is ever going to recover.
By the time Ponyboy is conscious, the doctors are threatening Dallas with a feeding tube if he doesn't eat. Ponyboy somehow has convinced himself that Johnny is still alive, so Darry doesn't know that Pony should be visit Dallas anyhow, but it wouldn't have mattered. Dallas refuses to see him. They'd probably all be banned from Dally's room if Dal had the energy to push it; for whatever reason, the only fire Darry sees in Dallas is when he tells them not to let Ponyboy come.
When Ponyboy realizes that Johnny is really gone, it's almost as awful as it was seeing him pretend. And then he's sleepwalking through every moment of every day. He blames himself for getting Johnny killed, even though he refuses to talk about it. And Dallas refusing to see him has Pony convinced that Dally blames him, too.
Dallas has hardly shown any emotion since that first day. Not anger, not sadness, just...nothing. He's like a shell of himself. He doesn't even argue about the feeding tube. He just yanks it back out the first chance he gets.
Darry is losing both of 'em, in different ways, and he can't bear it.
Darry talks Pony into coming to see Dally; it's only successful because Ponyboy cares enough about Dal to show up if it might help, even though he's sure that Dallas hates him.
When Darry gets the two of them together in Dally's room, he sees the first sign of the old Dallas that he has in well over a week. Dallas is furious, and it's entirely directed at
Darry.
"I said I didn't want the kid to come see me, and you had no right, Darrel," Dallas hisses.
And then Ponyboy has tears running down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispers hoarsely, and Dallas stops. "I'm sorry. I know you hate me, and I hate me too. I wish I could have take it back. It's all my fault. Johnny..." he cuts himself off with a harsh sob. "I'd trade places with him if I could. It's my fault. It should've been me."
Darry is still reeling from hearing that his kid brother wishes he could trade places with Johnny when Dallas bursts into tears. Huge, heaving sobs that have to hurt given that he has a bullet wound in his chest. Dallas bends forward, and it is an odd thought but Darry didn't even think that Dallas had the ability to bawl the way he is now. Darry is frozen between the two of 'em, thinking he's made a horrible mistake.
Dallas is barely able to get words out, but they hear "sorry" and "my fault," and then Ponyboy is across the room with his arms wrapped around Dally.
Darry steps into the doorway, partly to give the some semblance of privacy but also to make sure he heads off anyone trying to come in the room. He can't hear everything that they say, but he has to work to keep it together when he hears bits and pieces of how they've both been blaming themselves. Darry had thought that might be part of what was keeping Dallas like this, but he had thought it was mostly grief over Johnny. He didn't realize how much he blamed himself for not only what happened to Johnny, but for leaving Ponyboy and for what happened to him in that first car.
Darry has to practically beg the nurse not to go in there to kick Ponyboy out and give Dallas a sedative. He manages, somehow, to convince her that this is what Dallas needs if he's ever gonna stop trying to let himself die.
He hasn't seen Pony cry like this since the night they were told that their parents died, and he has never seen Dallgs do so. Both of 'em have too much pride for their own good sometimes...not that Darry really has room to talk about that. But uncomfortable as they've gotta be, he thinks that they both probably really needed this. So Darry stands guard to give them the space to fall apart together in private, and to find their way out of the dark together.
Pony and Dallas talk, and cry, for a long time. Darry doesn't know all of what is said, but eventually Ponyboy comes, red-eyed and splotchy-faced, to tell Darry he can come back in. Dallas can't make eye contact, and his eyes are puffy and his nose is stopped up, but he actually kind of seems like Dally. The three of them visit for awhile, talking about lighter things like how Pony knew he was turning a corner when Two-Bit relaxed enough to hit on his nurse. The topics don't really matter, but there's life in both of the boys that Darry hasn't seen in too long now. And Darry starts to feel like maybe he's not gonna lose Pony and Dallas after all.
I have a few! Some with Dally and Tom interacting directly and some with Dally grief. I don't have a super handle on Tim's character yet but am open to specific suggestions or scenarios for more. :)
💬 3 🔁 3 ❤️ 19 · Día de los Muertos · WAIT A DíA DE LOS MUERTOS THING W SHEPARDS WOULD BE SO SICK?!!!!!!??!
maybe a post-canon angst kinda
💬 3 🔁 0 ❤️ 20 · Tim Saves Dally · Can you write Tim finding Dally at the hospital parking lot after Johnny’s death? (Maybe Curly is in the
💬 2 🔁 0 ❤️ 16 · Tim Saves Dally-Part 2 · I loved the story you just posted about Tim saving Dally after Johnny’s death. Do you think you c
💬 2 🔁 2 ❤️ 23 · Tim Patches Up Dally · i have another shepard prompt if you want it!! dally and tim this time!
SO. dally gets into a figh
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 13 · Dallas Goes to Tim Shepard (short) · imagine dallas x sylvia x tim …
Hi! I don't really have enough experience with
After the absolute DESOLATION that has been reading the Dally and his dad miniseries, I’d like to request a one shot of Dally and Beth (or reader I’m not picky) just cuddling. Fluffy with a small scoop of angst. Please and thank you!
I love your writing, it’s all so compelling and interesting, and your narrative is fantastic! Keep it up!
Thank you! And yeah...that story line was a little brutal. Here's a nice, mildly angsty wrap up. (The Beth version will be on AO3 soon)
Moving On
Dallas feels completely rung out at the end of after everything he's been dealing with these last few weeks. He was too embarrassed to go back to the Curtis house immediately after they had it out and he broke down, but he did sheepishly drag himself in the door a couple of days later. Darry grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder before treating him exactly how he always does. Over the course of the day, Dallas starts to settle down and feel a lot more normal. He also is feeling pretty lucky that his buddies continue to put up with him. And not only put up with him, but they somehow seem happy to see him a lot of the time.
He knows he needs to have an actual conversation with you, and he's struggling with that, too. He's kind of afraid of not being forgiven for how distant he's been. He's still embarrassed about how much of a mess he was on the day he saw his father, but in addition to that he's kind of ashamed of himself for avoiding you afterwards. He knows it wasn't fair.
It also kind of catches him by surprise when he realizes how different he is compared to a couple of years ago. If he went through this whole thing with his father at sixteen or seventeen, he probably would've ended up either dead or locked up for a long stretch afterward. If he was sad enough to break down and cry? Back then, it's more likely that he would've jumped in front of a train before he let that happen.
He's subdued when he calls you and asks you to come over. And it chokes him up a little bit that you seem more worried than angry.
When you knock on the door, he has to force himself to look you in the eye. He reaches for your hand, and his heart pounds a little while he waits to see if you're gonna pull away. He takes a slow deep breath in and lets it out when you clasp his hand in yours. You walk over to his bed and sit on the edge next to each other.
"I'm so sorry," he says first, voice rough. He doesn't look at you when he says it, because he really does feel ashamed. "I can't-" he starts, but his throat like it's squeezing. He takes a shaky breath and tries again. "I don't know how to be this person," he admits. "I don't know how to deal with things when they hurt without shutting down or lashing out. And I was so afraid -" he cuts himself off when his voice breaks, and takes a steadying breath again. "I was so afraid I was gonna lash out and hurt you somehow," he admits quietly. His throat still feels tight and there's pressure behind his eyes. "And you didn't deserve that, and I knew it, but I didn't know how to deal with anything. And when I can't take being sad anymore, I get angry. And I don't know what else to do."
"I've been worried about you," you tell him softly. "I'm not mad. And I wouldn't have been, if you would have explained it before." You squeeze his hand. "It would've been hard to leave you alone," you admit. "But how you deal with what happened with your dad? It's not about me or what I need. It's about you. So if you needed to be alone? Not because you don't want to burden somebody else, and not because you're embarrassed about having feelings, but if you just need some time? Then that's all you have to say."
"Sometimes I don't know," he confesses in a raspy whisper. "I don't know what I need. Because for the most part, I've never had anybody try to give me what I needed anyhow. There's not much point in sorting through and figuring out what you need to happen when all it's gonna do is remind you of what you don't have." The words hurt, but he needed to say them.
"So maybe we'll start to figure it out," you say gently. "If you start getting what you need. Maybe that's how we'll figure out what works, and what doesn't. Trial and error."
He breaths out slowly. He doesn't know how he's supposed to do that, to be honest. He feels something in his chest right now, and he's not sure what it is or what he needs. He doesn't know how he's ever gonna start to tease this shit out.
Sometimes he feels like you know him too well. Because you squeeze his hand and ask him if he knows what he needs right now. He shakes his head.
"Maybe it'll help to take the pressure off a little bit," you tell him thoughtfully. He looks at you, confused. "Just take a guess at something you think might help. And if that doesn't feel right, if that doesn't feel like what you need? Then we shift lanes." It sounds so simple when you put it that way...why does it feel so overwhelming? "So," you continue before he can go any further down that path. "What do you feel like you want to try? What would you do if nobody was watching, and nobody was ever gonna know?"
He thinks that right now, what he wants more than anything is just to lay here with you. To have the physical reassurance that he didn't ruin everything these last few weeks.
He doesn't know how to say it. He still has a hard time, sometimes, with the vulnerability of being the one to pull you into a hug. He doesn't know how to say that he just wants to be held. The words stick in his throat. He thinks about trying to start with kissing and letting things get physical, hoping that it would lead to being held after. But right now he doesn't feel like he has it in him to do that in the way that he used to, where it didn't mean anything. And if he lets himself feel connected, with the way that the emotions are already twisting and twirling inside him, he's afraid he'll embarrass himself by crying through the whole thing.
"Can we just lay down together?" he asks. He hopes that you pick up on the underlying meaning, because he can't bring himself to say it.
"Of course we can," you say softly. And he feels like his chest is squeezing tight when you gently tug him to lay down with you, wrapping both arms around him and snuggling up to his chest.
When he can open his mouth without bawling, he speaks. "Your arm is gonna fall asleep under me like that."
"Then I'll move it, and it'll wake back up," you tell him simply. He huffs out a small laugh. "I missed you," you say softly. "So if you're gonna let me, then I'm just gonna hold you for a while."
"That sounds good," he mumbles, voice a little choked. He kisses you on the top of the head and wraps both of his arms around you, too. He shifts the two of you so that you're mostly laying on top of him, and he gives you a tight hug. You kiss him on the side of the neck, gently nuzzling against him, and he mostly keeps it together. He ignores the solitary tear that escapes out of the corner of his eye.
"Is this OK?" you ask. "I can hear your heart racing."
"Yeah," he rasps. And he feels it pound a little harder, and a little faster, when he adds "just don't let go?"
"I'm not going anywhere," you tell him. His chest shudders once, and you wrap your arms around him a little tighter. "I'll hold you as long as you need me to. As long as you'll let me. And when you need a break, I'm still gonna be holding you in my heart," you murmur.
Dallas sniffles. "That was some Ponyboy-level cheese," he teases, but his voice is thick with the tears he's holding back.
"Yeah, yeah," you say with a small laugh. "It's cheesy, but it's true. Maybe sometimes you need to hear it." You rub your thumb lightly over his skin where you're hugging him. "And even if you don't need to hear it, you still deserve to."
Dallas chokes on a sob then. "I don't deserve you."
"Yes, you do," you say firmly. You turn your head slightly to kiss him over his heart before snuggling back into his chest. "You deserve everything. And it's not your fault that you got saddled with people who didn't know how, or weren't willing, to give you what you deserved."
The dam breaks then, and he swears while he wipes at his eyes.
"Aren't you tired of me being a mess?" He lets out a sound that's half laugh and half sob. "I'm tired of me being a mess.
"You're not a mess," you say gently. "You're going through something really hard, and really painful." Your tone takes on a slightly teasing quality. "You're allowed to have normal human emotions, Dallas." You kiss him over his chest again. "And you're allowed to cry when things hurt you." He holds back another sob at that. "It's not your fault that you've gone through a lot of things that hurt."
He's tired of crying. He really is. And he knows he's happier than he used to be, but it's embarrassing and sometimes he wishes he could put the genie back in the damn bottle.
"I shouldn't still be crying over stuff that's over and done," he grumbles.
"Sometimes, when you just push it down, bottle everything up, it doesn't really feel like it's in the past," you say kindly. "Eventually, maybe you won't have any more tears to cry over it. But a lot of this stuff, sounds like you didn't get to cry about it when it happened." He swallows hard. "Even if it's still gonna hurt, maybe letting yourself cry about it is gonna make it so that you don't just have to carry that pain with you forever. Maybe that makes it hurt less. Like lancing a boil."
He snorts a little of that. "Really?"
He can feel you smile against his chest. "What, it's a good analogy," you say with a small giggle. "You lance the boil, it feels worse for a minute and a whole bunch of shit comes out, and then afterwards you feel better. Sometimes it heals the first time, sometimes you gotta lance it a whole bunch of times, but eventually it heals." You hug him a little bit tighter. "Sometimes it scars," you admit. "But it heals."
Dallas can't help it, he starts to laugh a little bit with you. "Christ, you're weird," he says through giggles. "How do you do that? Make me laugh when I'm miserable." You don't answer, just snuggling closer to him. But it also wasn't really a question. "I love you so much," he murmurs, kissing you on the top of the head again.
I love the idea of Johnny and Steve both having tourretes...
So I'm wondering if you could write something about it? I might be projecting onto them, but it feels so right?
Johnny is surprisingly diagnosed with it. No the gang doesn't know. Yes when his hands flap or neck jerks the gang is just like.. yeah, he does that. And sometimes he squeaks.. and they're like, yeah. (These r my tics.)
And.. gulp, flipping people off and saying "bitch," but like nerk jerking so he like keeps stuttering the "b" before getting it out. Self projecting so hard.
Randomly he'll have tic attacks and the gang won't bat an eye, and he'll be embarrassed, his gang teased the shit out of him.
And Steve, well, he's a little autistic. The gang can kind of.. tell. But like, they don't know by they know something wrong.
Steve flaps his hands when he stims. But when he tics?...
He copies shit he's heard.
He does a shitty Mickey Mouse impression saying "oh boy!" because of how often he hears it on the TV, Dally saying "whatdya talkin' about??" And "Yeah, yeah, I heard ya'" in his NYC accent, and what Soda says on the daily; "Ain't that somethin'?", "Boy, I tell ya-," and the start of Soda's booming snorty laugh...
And his legs stomp against his will. No one even notices. (Kudos to my sister, this is her tic 🔥)
No one clocks that he has whatever Johnny has, for some reason. Well, ofc other than Johnny. Like, he knows what Steve has, does not tell him bc that will out himself and Steve won't even know what it is and will deny it...
Sorry for a little rant, I just want you to like, know abt it, cause I ain't know how much you know about tourretes, lol! And Steve's echolalia.. 💔
I don't know, but if you have any ideas, you do them, but maybe you could write them having tic attacks triggered by having a bad day and one another ticing?
And the gang is all just.. confused, of course teasing them, but also like, what the hell is happening? Especially Darry- mom mode activated omg. (Not like my mom though, she calls my ticing and grunting barks 😭)
Idkkkk (Also, I got a lot of my tics for Steve from "your-denis214" sorry if those aren't the right numbers, but, I'm sure everyone knows goated your-denis...)
Im gonna have to rely on you for feedback if i portrayed any forjo badly, asker-friend. :)
Tics and Stims
The gang have know for a long time that Johnny has what they call "nervous tics." It definitely ain't like Johnny's folks would ever take him to a doctor, but Mrs. Curtis had sweet-talked a sympathetic doctor into letting her pay cash to have Johnny seen, even without his parents present. She'd been worried he might have something serious, a brain tumor or something, and she was relieved beyond belief when they said Johnny had Tourette's.
The doctor never took a cent from Mrs. Curtis, and she dropped cookies off at that clinic about once a week for a whole year. Mrs. Curtis also never breathed a word of it to anyone other than Johnny, and she laid into anyone who gave Johnny a hard time about his tics (including her ow boys). At this point, the gang just kind of tune it out when Johnny squeaks, and if they can't help him hide neck jerks or hand flaps in public, then they make it abundantly clear that anybody messing with Johnny over it is gonna have to deal with the whole gang.
Johnny struggled a lot with embarrassment at first, but now it only really bugs him when he's around people he doesn't know. There's one tic, though, that make other members of the gang so damn gleeful that Johnny ain't even bothered any more. Occasionally he'll tic into flipping people off and swearing. Two-Bit keeps telling him it's on account of his bottling up all his swears on the regular. (Not really how it works, but the gentle teasing is a sign of acceptance that usually makes Johnny grin.)
Johnny is the first one to notice that Steve has some...similar tendencies. It's not exactly the same for Steve, Johnny doesn't think. Steve doesn't seem to do it randomly so much as when he's real worked up. Sometimes when he's bored. Johnny notices, but he figures if Steve wants to talk about it he'll say so. And some of it's subtle, like stomping his leg. Johnny assumes people just think Steve is kinda restless.
Sometimes Johnny can't tell if he's doing it on purpose, but he thinks that Steve isn't. But Steve doesn't seem bothered when Two-Bit giggles at his repetitive, god-awful Mickey Mouse impression. And Steve even grins sometimes when Two-Bit cackles over Steve repeating common Dally-isms like "whatdya talkin' about??" And "Yeah, yeah, I heard ya'" complete with the accent. He does it with Soda sometimes, too; usually with his laugh but sometimes he will sound almost exactly like Soda with "Ain't that somethin'?" or "Boy, I tell ya..."
Then one night, Steve comes in after another fight with his old man, and none of the guys have ever seen him like this. He's kinda flapping and twisting his hands in the air, and he keeps making this little throat-clearing vocalization, and the worst part is that he's crying. Steve hardly ever cries. And he kinda panics when Darry is trying to figure out why he can't stop moving his hands.
"Darry," Johnny says softly. Darry looks at him. "He just needs time to calm down, man. I don't think you can help him fix it." Darry looks conflicted, and Soda kind of does, too. "He does that, usually a lot smaller, when he's upset. He's gonna be okay."
The room goes quiet, and honestly it's brutal because the only sound is Steve's breath catching. Johnny remembers that sometimes Steve likes the lights down, so he gets up and flips one of the lamps off. Johnny shoots a warning look whenever anybody tries to approach Steve or talk to him, and Darry catches on fast and backs him up.
When Steve eventually calms down, he croaks out "Soda." Soda immediately crosses the room and then Steve hugs him. Soda wraps his arms around him tightly, and probably uses a lot of self restraint to stay quiet while he does it.
They don't really talk about it. But later on, Steve gives Johnny a grateful look, and Johnny nods in acknowledgment.
Can you do a one shot where Dally is really sick, Johnny finds him at Buck’s, but he’s got a fever and pretty delirious, Buck checks on him, but he’s not getting better even with medication, so they’re forced to call Darry?
thank you!!!
I took some creative liberties with details, couldn't figure out what Darry could do that Buck couldn't unless Buck was physically unavailable. And also subscribe to the headcanon that these guys could be 80% dead and still not see a doctor. Also no Buck hate intended but he and Dallas both strike me as "kill a flu with more alcohol."
Dally's Fever
Johnny has never seen Dallas this sick.
He stopped over just to see Dal, and when he first got there, he thought Dally was just real boozed up. He's flushed, and his eyes are glassy, and he ain't making a whole lot of sense. Then he asked how much Dal had to drink, and he said just a couple. Dally had flinched and batted him away, but Johnny managed to touch his arm, at least, and Dally was radiating enough heat for Johnny to know that he's got a bad fever.
"Glory, Dal. You're sick," Johnny mutters.
"M fine, Johnny. Had worse," he slurs.
"You're burning up," Johnny argues.
Johnny flags down Buck. Now, Johnny knows that Buck care about Dal. Really he does. But he gives Dallas a shot of hard liquor to kill the infection and Johnny is now convinced that Buck is a damn fool. Dallas doesn't want to go anywhere else, though, so Johnny practically drags him up to his room to lay down.
When Buck comes up to check on him with another shot, Johnny decides it's time to call a real adult.
"Darry?" Johnny whispers into the phone.
"Johnnycake, you okay?" he hears Darry's worried voice and breathes a sigh of relief.
"Yeah, I'm fine. But Dal's real sick, Darry."
"What's wrong with Dallas?"
"He's 'bout to burst into flames, and he and Buck seem to think the solution is just more alcohol to kill whatever bug he's got."
He can practically see Darry pinching the bridge of his nose. "Goddamn knuckleheads," Darry mutters. "How bad is he?"
"Bad," Johnny says. "He...he ain't really making sense, Dar."
He hears Darry let out an uncharacteristic stream of curses. "I'll be right over. With some actual damn medicine."
When Darry arrives, he takes one look at Dallas before sighing. "Christ. Idiots. One more round of Dr. Dickel and he'd probably need a damn hospital."
He pops a few of tabs of Advil into his hand and practically shoves it at Dallas.
Dallas scowls, but the effect is ruined by a harsh, hacking cough. "I like Buck's medicine better," Dallas mumbles stubbornly.
"Dallas, you take these pills or I'm gonna pill you myself like a damn cat," Darry threatens. Dallas glares, but to Johnny's relief he take the medicine. Then Darry pours a capful of another bottle he pulls out of the grocery bag.
Dallas glares at him, then takes it like a shot and winces. "Bad whiskey," he grumbles, still slurring a little.
"Johnnycake, can you go get a bucket of ice water and a wash rag from Buck?" Darry asks him quietly.
Dally's eyes are closed, thankfully. "Dally's gonna kill you."
"Well, long as he lives to do it, I don't give a damn," Darry retorts. Johnny raises his hands in mock surrender and heads back downstairs.
Dallas is definitely going to kill Darry. Dallas howls and bolts upright when Darry wakes him up with an ice rag to the face. Dallas complains, and tries to yell but it's more of a croak. He also tries to fight, but Darry ain't having it.
"Johnny, hold him down," Darry instructs. Johnny looks at him in shock. "He's gotta get his fever down or we're going to the hospital. Dal's not just being a pain in the ass...he ain't thinking straight. Hold him down."
Johnny apologizes to Dallas about a hundred times while doing it, and the fact that Dally is sick and bough that he can't get out or Johnny's hold is terrifying.
Darry keeps trying to talk him down, voice level, but Dal is shaking so hard now that even Johnny's teeth are chattering. And then Johnny feels even worse, because Dal starts to sob and beg for it to stop. Johnny's never seen Dal shed a tear, and he's sure never seen him beg for nothing.
Darry is trying to all to him in soothing tones, to calm him down, and Johnny can tell that he feels guilty, too. At one point, Darry sounds like he might bawl right along with Dallas. When it's over, Darry nods for Johnny to let Dallas go, and Dallas just crumples. Johnny thinks both of 'em are gonna be embarrassed come tomorrow; Darry's holding Dallas half in his lap, stroking fingers through his hair and rocking a little, and Johnny's pretty sure he heard "I'm so sorry, baby."
They have to do the whole thing again a couple of hours later, and it doesn't go any easier. Johnny pretends not to notice when Darry cries after.
But it works.
They're all exhausted, and Johnny hopes like hell that Dal was too out of it to remember any of this come tomorrow.
(Okay right as I was sending that ask, Tumblr glitched out for me, so I'm resending the ask just in case it didn't go through. I'm not tryna force or push you to write this by sending it twice if it did go through the first time, just tryna make sure it goes through! Sorry!)
Hiii! Love your writing, uhm, here's a request! Can you write platonic Darry x Reader? She's kinda younger than him, part of the gang, and she just really needs a hug?
Thank you! And I hope you like this one. :)
Big Brothers
Ponyboy has a friend over studying. Lord, Darry wishes he could apologize to his parents for every time he pushed back over their very reasonable rules. Darry is tired. He thought Pony was gonna start World War 3 over not being allowed to study in his room with the door closed.
For God's sake, does he think that Darry doesn't remember being fifteen?
The girl he brought over seems real respectful, though. Darry sighs to himself. Before their folks died, he would have been teasing Pony and egging him on. They would have probably laughed together over his red his ears got, and maybe he would have asked Darry for advice on how to make a move. Soda never needed much advice, but he would still excitedly tell Darry near about every detail. Darry had been excited to see their youngest brother start dating.
Sometimes Darry really misses just being a big brother.
He pushes the thoughts away, not wanting to feel sorry for himself. It's hard, though. He's grieving being just a big brother, and he's grieving over their parents not being here watching Pony and Soda grow up. He's grieving his own future, and that if he ever manages to accomplish anything his folks won't be there to see that, either.
Goddammit. He needs to just finish the damn dishes. Feels like a fool, sitting here near tears over things that can't be changed.
He decides to bring the kids a snack, and he pretends it's not so he can check up on him. And he pretends even harder that it's got nothing to do with feeling lonely and left out.
Everything is too quiet after he delivers the snacks. He's exhausted, but like hell is he gonna get into pajamas or get into bed when one of his brothers has a girl in the house.
The gal comes out and asks real politely to use the phone to call her folks. She seems upset when she gets off the phone, though.
Darry should leave it alone. He's not a parent. And he's too old and worn down to be a fun older brother. Pony's friend or girl or whatever she is any gonna want him prying into her business.
"Everything okay?" he asks, the words slipping out before he can stop them.
Oh, hell.
She looks at him like a deer in headlights, and then she throws her arms around him in a hug. She's crying on his chest, and good lord Pony and is gonna kill him.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, but she doesn't move to pull away. She just tightens her fist around his shirt.
"It's alright, honey," Darry murmurs. He immediately kicks himself mentally. The term of endearment just slipped out, the way it does when he consoles his brothers. The way it used to in this house when their parents were alive. He don't know this girl, and he feels old as hell but they're still close enough in age that he's lucky she didn't slap him for that.
She pulls away and wipes her face. "Thanks," she says quietly. Darry nods in acknowledgment. "My dad answered," she says softly. "And he sounded like my brother Tommy. And for a minute....it's dumb." Her voice breaks, and her face crumples briefly. She wipes her eyes. "It's never gonna be Tommy again." She looks at him, eye shining with tears. "Vietnam."
"I'm sorry," Darry says, swallowing hard. There's an ache in his chest.
"I didn't mean to be inappropriate," she says softly. "I shouldn't have hugged you like that. I just miss my big brother, you know?"
"I know," Darry says. And he has been feeling grief, feeling morose enough himself, that his eyes sting. "It's okay."
She smiles at him, and it's genuine. She wipes her face again. "Thanks," she says softly, and then she goes back to Pony's room.
The idea of losing a brother is more painful than Darry can stand to think about. But he does think about being a brother, and being a guardian. And he smiles over the fact that it felt kinda like stepping into an old, favorite pair of shoes...getting to feel like a big brother for a minute.
Thanks for the updates to Saving Dallas! Can’t wait to see what happens after the cliffhanger!
I know you had mentioned a story line with Dally’s father. I feel like in your Saving Dallas AU, he would definitely talk to Steve after everything blows up, but was wondering if you could write a one-shot where Johnny supports him after a similar situation? I feel like Dallas might take support from him better? I don’t know.
I also think back to their conversation at the Dairy Queen when Johnny asks if his parents had asked for him, and Dally said he doesn’t care about his father, and the gang should be enough. Would Dally apologize to Johnny after having been pulled back in by his own father?
Sorry for rambling or if this didn’t make sense!
I'm not sure yet when he will talk to Steve but love the idea! Might wait until something happens with Steve's dad where Dally opens up due to giving support, but I'm not sure. :)
Here is the Johnny Au though!
Johnny, Dallas, and Fathers
Johnny and Dally are hanging in the lot, and Dally is in a bad mood. Even for Dallas.
"My old man wants to see," Dallas eventually confides. "Says he wants me to come over for Christmas or some shit. Didn’t even ask me in person, just sent a damn letter. Not that I wanted to actually see him in person
anyhow." Dally crunched his cigarette under the heel of his boot, voice bitter. He immediately lights another, and Johnny doesn't miss the way his hands shake.
"You gonna go, Dal?"
Dallas scuffs his boot toe angrily. "Why should I? He ain't really ever cared about being a father before. Why should I go play happy family with him for the holidays?"
"Maybe he’s sorry," Johnny says. "Maybe he wants to try to make things right."
Dallas laughs hollowly. "Make things right? How is he supposed to do that? He’s hit me near every day I’ve seen him since I was born. Only times I was safe in that apartment is when I managed to avoid him noticing me at all." Dallas lets out a frustrated grunt. "He didn’t give a
hang about parenting me, he didn’t even give a hang about whether or not I had food on any given day."
"People can change though, right?"
"Johnnycake, I know that you want your folks to wake up and stop being assholes. But just because you want something doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen. If my old
man wanted to change, he’s had a million and one chances to do it."
"You really ain’t curious?" Johnny asks.
"About as curious as I am about a hole in the head."
Johnny gives him a small smile. "Well, if you decide you want to go, let me know if you want somebody to go with you."
Dallas looks at him in surprise, expression softening. "Thanks, johnnycake."
Dallas ends up talking to Darry, too. He doesn’t really think he should go see his father, but the letter and his
conversation with Johnny keep weighing on him. So he talks with Darry, who suggests that he can always leave if he’s uncomfortable... but that if he doesn’t go, he might always wonder what might have been.
Dallas ends up going and reluctantly agrees to take Johnny with him. Not because he needs support, mind
you. He just doesn’t want the kid to be worried. That’s all.
Johnny is glad that Dallas allowed him to go with him to his father’s house. At first, Johnny when walks into the house all clean and reasonably furnished, with no signs or smells of alcohol, he thinks that maybe this will be a good thing for Dallas. His opinion changes gradually within the first hour that they are there.
Johnny starts to second guess when he realizes that standing here in front of his father is the only time that Johnny has ever seen Dallas show any type of fear. He doesn’t want to think about the kinds of things that Dallas would have had to live through to put that look on his face.
Johnny’s discomfort increases when he realizes that Dolly’s father seems to have a lot of false smiles, and that Mr. Winston is periodically looking over at his girlfriend as if to assess whether or not she’s buying the act.
Johnny had thought, even if Dallas didn’t reconcile with his father, that it would be an opportunity for him to maybe get some closure. Maybe even get an apology for some of what he suffered. Around the one hour mark is when Johnny realizes that this thought line was a terrible
mistake.
It starts with Mr Winston’s girlfriend encouraging Dallas to reconnect with the family and let bygones be bygones. When Dallas stops looking so much like a deer in headlights and instead gets angry, It goes worse than Johnny would have feared.
Mr Winston denies everything. Johnny thinks it would have hurt Dallas less if the guy had hit him again.
Not only does he deny, but Mr. Winston manages to give the impression that Dallas is just a bad kid who
needed discipline, that he only did what was necessary. And he says that Dallas has always been "prone to dramatics." In other words, that none of the abuse or
neglect that Dallas experienced ever even happened, and Dallas is just looking for attention or sympathy. Johnny looks at Dallas, and before he manages to school his expression there is a look of utter devastation
on his face.
When Dallas storms out, Johnny follows.
When they get in the car, Johnny wishes that he had learned how to drive already. Dallas is driving recklessly even by Dally standards. Johnny tries to talk him down, but it’s like he’s not even hearing him. When he does finally break through, Dallas pulls off to the side of the road so abruptly that the tires squeal. And then Johnny
sees something that he has never seen before, and didn’t think that he would ever see.
Dallas breaks. Or more accurately, he shatters.
Johnny is frozen, unsure what to do, when Dallas drops
his head onto the steering wheel and sobs.
"Dal-” Johnny starts. He tries to put a hand on Dallas’s shoulder.
Dallas jerks back abruptly, "Don’t look at me," he snaps, voice wavering and choked.
"Okay," Johnny says softly and looks forward. Dal is
muttering every so often, mostly swearing and telling himself to pull it together.
Johnny knows what he would do if it were Pony in this situation, but he thinks if he tries to hug Dallas the guy might drive both of them off a cliff.
"Glory," Johnny says slowly. "I think your old man might actually be worse than mine, Dallas." Dallas let’s out a huff. He's still crying but that’s a reaction at least. "And one time my old man beat me with a two by four for breathing too loud." Johnny pauses, waiting.
"I got it for that once, too," Dallas gets out, voice still strangled. "Except it was a belt."
What's your record for getting locked up in his house?" Johnny asks, keeping his voice casual. "Once he put me in a closet for two and a half days. Had to pee in a damn boot."
"Thank God you didn't have to take a shit," Dallas croaks.
Johnny chuckles, even though they both know it's not really funny. "You ain't a woofin'."
"Four," Dallas says quietly, sniffling. "Woulda been longer, but I figured out how to pick the lock."
"He hit me once, when I was about five, cause we were outta milk," Johnny says quietly. "I don't even like milk."
They look at each other then, and then they both burst out laughing a little.
Dallas wipes his face on his sleeve. "We should make some kind of abusive jackass bingo," Dallas mutters. "We can play with Steve and Tim."
Johnny snorts at that. Then he pauses. "Your old man's an idiot," Johnny says. "Seriously." Johnny hardly ever swears, at least not the "worst ones," but he's furious for Dallas and it always makes Dally grin when Johnny does swear. "He's a motherfucking bastard who couldn't pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel, and don't know a good thing when he sees it."
Dallas does grin a little at both the boot reference and the language, but he sighs. "Maybe he's right about me," he mumbles.
"No. He ain't," Johnny says fiercely. "You're my brother, Dallas. You're probably my favorite person in the whole damn world. And he oughta be ashamed of himself for making you think you ain't worth nothing."
Dallas wipes his eyes, sniffling hard. The car is quiet for several minutes, but there's comfort in the silence now.
"You ain't gonna say nothing to nobody?" Dallas asks quietly.
"I wouldn't never," Johnny says. "But I think some of the guys would get it. If you wanted 'em to know."
Dallas shakes his head. He gives Johnny a wry grin. "Kinda wish me and you didn't have to know." He swallows hard. "Thanks, Johnnycake."
"You don't gotta thank me for keeping your secrets, Dal. They ain't mine to tell."
"That wasn't what I was thanking you for," Dallas says, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck uncomfortably. Well, not just that anyhow."
"You don't gotta thank me for that, either," Johnny says softly. "Like I said, you're my brother." Johnny grins at him. "You gonna drive off a bridge or something if I hug you?"
"Shut up," Dallas grumbles, but he's smiling and he tugs Johnny into a hug.
Summary to this point if you're reading as a one-shot Dallas got a letter from his father to attend Christmas dinner, Darry encouraged him to go, Turned out Dad just wanted to show that he was not a deadbeat father for his girlfriend. He minimized Dally's history of abuse and neglect, and Dallas just kind of collapsed for a couple of weeks before getting very, very angry. Including /especially at Darry for not "protecting" him and advising him to put himself out there.
Dallas knows he’s being an asshole. He does.
He tells himself that he doesn’t care.
When he read Pony’s theme, he can kind of understand the way the kid talked about Darry a little bit more. How he used to lie to himself that he didn’t care about Darry anyhow, because it hurt too much to love his big brother when he felt like the guy couldn’t stand him.
Dallas tells himself that he hates Darry, that Darry deserves every bit of wrath he can dish out. But when he’s alone at night, thinking about the events of the day, Dallas doesn’t believe his own lies, either.
Darry tries to talk reasonably to Dallas. He really, truly does.
Dallas is not feeling particularly reasonable, though.
And Dallas doesn’t know exactly how Darry figured it out, but suddenly Darry blurts it out in the most exasperated voice Dallas has ever heard.
“Dally, just talk to me! Talk to somebody, because this ain’t like you and you’re driving me up the damn wall!” Darry snaps. “Is this about going to see your dad?”
Dallas freezes, staring at Darry hardly. “Don’t ask me that. You got no right,” he bites out in a dangerous tone.
“The hell I don’t,” Darry retorts. “You’re over here acting a fool in my house. I want to know what this is all about.”
“I ain’t talking to you about this,” Dallas yells.
“Why?”
“Because you let it happen!” Dallas shrieks, and he can tell that Darry doesn’t have damn clue, which just makes him more upset. Darry approaches him, and Dallas shoves him away hard.
“Dally, stop,” Darry says firmly.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Dally yells. “You’re not my parent, and you’re not my goddamn brother!” Darry looks hurt. “I can’t fucking do this.” He starts to storm off, but Darry grabs his arm. And even though he’s angry, everything with his old man is so fresh that having a guy who’s bigger grab him makes him panic. It only lasts for a split second, but he sees the regret in Darry’s eyes and he knows that Darry saw. And his heart feels like an angry, terrified bird trapped in a cage that’s too small. “Leave me alone, Darrel,” Dallas says, voice strangled and thick.
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Darry tells him forcefully. “We’re family.”
“The hell with family!” Dallas screeches. He looks, and Soda is out here now, too, standing in front of the door looking worried and so damn sad. Dally’s breath catches, and he realizes he’s crying. Fuck. He turns to the door. “Soda, let me go,” he begs through sobs and gasps.
“I ain’t forcing you to stay, Dal,” Soda says softly. “But I don’t want you to go like this.” Dallas looks at him helplessly, tears streaming, and then he looks back at Darry who looks worried but like he ain’t got half a clue what’s going on here. And then Dallas just crumples to the floor. God, he hates this. It hurts, and he’s crying, sounds goddamn hysterical, and he can’t stop.
He feels Darry kneel down next to him before he sees him, before he barely hears Darry whisper his name.
“Why’d you tell me to do that?” Dallas hiccups brokenly. “Why didn’t you look out for me?” He buries his face in his hands and he sobs.
“Dallas, what happened?” Darry asks, voice rough and desperate. Dallas can’t tell him; he just cries. He jerks away when Darry tries to put an arm around him, bending forward and balling himself up onto the floor, crying into the damn carpet. He feels a hand on him, and he honestly doesn’t know if it’s Darry or Soda but he doesn’t move away because he’s got nowhere to go. He just curls in even tighter.
He hears the door open and close while he’s still on the ground, and then he hears it again. God, he hopes it’s somebody coming and going, at least. Two more people seeing him like this would be about the worst thing he can think of. Dallas feels desperate, and he starts to alternate between saying “sorry” and “please” through gasps. He doesn’t even know what exactly he’s apologizing for, or what he’s asking for. His chest hurts. He feels like something has been ripped out of him.
“He doesn’t care,” Dallas chokes out eventually. “He never cared. He doesn’t. Why did you tell me to go over there?” He’s hiccupping between near every other word. “Why? It hurts.”
He doesn’t know if Darry figures it out right then, but Dallas can practically feel the tension radiating. He still can’t stop the worlds from tumbling out of him, even though he’ll be ashamed later both for his weakness and for the words he’s saying to Darry.
“I trusted you,” Dallas cries. “I trusted you, and you let me…you told me…” He knows, rationally, that Darry didn’t do this on purpose. But he can’t stop himself from asking “Why did you do that, Darry?” He hates how much like a child he sounds when the words come out.
“God, Dallas,” Darry says, and his voice sounds tight. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”
Dallas doesn’t know how he’s still crying, really, but it doesn’t seem to be stopping or even slowing. He feels kind of sick. "He lied,” Dallas sobs. “He lied, and he pretended it never happened. That I was just making it up. That he never left me for months to fend for myself, or let his scumbag friends hurt me, or beat me just for breathing too loud.” He gags a little, but he manages not to throw up. “He’s getting married to some respectable lady and wanted her to think he wasn’t a deadbeat. He didn’t really want me.” He chokes on a sob. “Why doesn’t he want me? Why didn’t he ever want me?” Dallas sits up, and even though he’s ashamed he looks at Darry, tears still streaming down his face. “What did I do wrong? Why doesn’t he care?” Darry pulls him into a hug, and this time Dallas lets him. He leans into Darry’s chest, buries his face, and sobs.
“I don’t know, honey,” Darry murmurs. “I don’t know why he’s the way he is. But it ain’t you.” He can feel Darry rock him a little. It’s soothing and he also hates it. “We love you. We love you so much.” Darry’s hand is rubbing up and down his back, and Darry’s voice sounds thick with emotion, too. “I’m sorry, Dal. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
By the time he calms down, Dallas realizes that he’s pretty much in Darry’s lap. Lord, he’s never gonna be able to show his face over here again. He forces himself to pull away, and when he does he sees that Darry has tear tracks down his face, too. “I’m sorry,” Dallas chokes out. He buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”
Darry puts a hand on his shoulder, and Soda does the same from the other side. “Hush, Dal,” Darry says softly. “It’s okay.” Soda moves for a moment, and when he comes back he’s handing Dallas a hankie. He wipes at his face, trying to clear up even some of the mess of tears and snot. His breath keeps hitching like his body still doesn’t know how to stop crying even though the tears have stopped. “Come on. There’s probably a Western on right now. You wanna sit on the couch, take your mind off things?” Dallas shrugs. Darry stands, groaning, and then offers him a hand. Dallas takes it awkwardly, and lets Darry tug him gently over to the couch while Soda turns on the TV. Darry pulls Dallas toward him a little, wrapping an arm around him. Soda pats his lap, and Dallas is exhausted enough that he just obeys and drapes his legs over his buddy’s.
He ends up falling asleep halfway through the movie with Darry’s arms around him, his head on Darry’s chest, and his legs on Soda’s lap.
Alternate Version: Dally Goes to See his Father Alone
Still part of the Dally's father storyline. This is the alternate-version part 3 where he goes alone (some people are reading the version of his story without the OC love interest :) )
Dallas doesn't ask for more input on whether to go see his old man on Christmas. He decides to go. He tries very hard not to get his hopes up. He tells himself that he'll be OK, that it's possible that the guy has changed (even though the possibility is slim). But even if his father hasn't changed, Dallas figures that he'll just use the opportunity to tell the guy off. If he's honest, he has wanted to do that for years.
When he arrives at the house, it's nicer than any house that his father lived in with Dallas. Dallas briefly wonders what happened; the place his old many was in since they moved to Tulsa up until Dallas last saw him a couple of years ago. He’s too wound up to really even process the change in living environment at the moment, though.
When his father opens the door sober and with a smile on his face, Dallas tries not to let himself get carried away with hope. He yells at himself in his head, because there’s a part of him that really, really wants to believe. To hope.
"Dallas, come on in," his father says cheerfully. "I'm so glad you could make it."
A woman in a pearl necklace comes out and greets him. “You must be Dallas!” she coos. It’s so nice to finally meet, you, honey.”
Dallas is silent, jaw clenched. “Dallas, cat got your tongue? Or have you just forgotten your manners?” His father says it in a cheerful voice, but it feels fake and wrong, and most infuriatingly, it somehow makes him feel like a scolded little kid again.
The woman, Loretta, starts chatting, telling him about their holiday preparations and what’s for dinner. God, Dallas feels weak right now. What is wrong with him? He just feels kind of stuck all of a sudden, like his jaw is wired shut and his feet are glued to the floor.
He thinks he missed something. Did he miss something? Because everyone is moving to sit down. Dallas kind of numbly follows.
"I’m so glad you could make it. Tucker told me you might be too busy for us, but I’ve been looking so forward to meeting you.” Loretta says with an easy laugh. “I've heard nothing but positive things about Dallas from Tucker. He's so very proud.”
Dallas had taken a drink of the water that Loretta had handed him several minutes earlier, and he almost chokes trying not to spit it out at that comment. The idea that his father said any such thing is ludicrous.
“Well, if you and Dallas start getting serious, hopefully you two can get to know each other,” his father says jovially. Dallas thinks, but doesn’t say, that it’s not like his father even knows him.
Dallas, kind of tunes out for a while. He doesn’t particularly enjoy small talk, but he also doesn’t like being mentally checked out like this. He wants to be aware of his surroundings. He needs to pay attention. Also, maybe he shouldn't care about what his father thinks of him, but a part of him really wants the guy to feel like he has missed out on his son.
Dallas spent most of his childhood being treated like he was nothing. Is it so wrong that he wants to prove that maybe he’s worth something after all? Even if he and his father never have a relationship, Dallas would rather that it be by his own choice rather than because his father didn't think he was worth knowing. He hates that it matters to him at all. Dallas tries to pay better attention, and at least say some of the socially appropriate things. He does complement Loretta on her cooking (even though he’s so anxious that everything kind of taste like ash at the moment).
Toward the end of the meal is where things really take a turn.
“I hope I'm not speaking out of turn,” Loretta says. “Although, I suppose we're among family.” Dallas stiffens. “Dallas, I hope you'll be able to attend our wedding in the spring,” Loretta continues.
Dallas is so shocked that he drops his fork and it makes a loud clatter on the table.
Loretta kind of titters and then continues. “I know it's basically just been the two of you, you and your dad, but I know my family is really hoping to get to know you.” Loretta looks at Tucker with a brilliant smile. “I'm not sure yet if we will have children of our own or if we will look into adoption, but I hope we can become one big happy family.”
Dallas does not know what to say. His throat is tight. Loretta seems somewhat oblivious as she continues. “I know that you and your father had a little falling out,” Loretta says. Dallas actually chokes on a noise of disbelief when she says that. He feels like his whole body is hot all of a sudden, like he could pass out.
There is a moment where he just sits in stunned silence. “A little falling out?” Dallas mumbles, barely audibly.
Loretta gives him a look that makes him want to scream. “Well, of course, I know that there are details, dear,” Loretta acquiesces. “But families squabble all the time. I don't see any reason that we can't all just move forward.”
“Is that what he called it?” Dallas asks, mouth feeling like it’s full of cotton. “A squabble? That’s a hell of a way to describe the way he treated me.” He looks at his father. “You beat the hell out of me.”
Loretta looks taken aback, and Dallas feels like his entire body is tingling. Dallas looks over and sees that his father is laughing. “Oh dear,” he chuckles. “Dallas always did have a flair for the dramatic. Dallas was disciplined quite a bit, but he was always a very spirited child.” His father grins and winks conspiratorially. “Wild, honestly.”
Dallas feels like he's had a bucket of ice water dumped over his head.
“I worked hard to provide for my family,” his father continues, sounding sad. What a joke. “So I was away a lot more hours than I would've liked.”
Dallas doesn't know what to feel about the fact that his father is lying through his teeth. He looks at between the two of them, and suddenly he’s not just numb and feeling like a goddamn kid again. Why is he afraid, again? He promised himself twelve years ago that he was never going to be afraid of his father again. And suddenly, he's furious.
“Away for more hours than you’d like?” Dallas says, voice low and dangerous. “Is that what we’re gonna call it?”
“What do you think we should call it, Dallas?” his father says, and there’s a slight taunt to his tone.
“You left me alone for months sometimes,” Dallas snaps, teeth clenched. His father scoffs, and it enrages him. “How about the time you were locked up when I was ten, ‘Dad’?"
"I think you're mis-remembering things," his father says dismissively.
"I almost died on the street! Did you even care?" Dallas explodes, slamming his fist down on the table.
He sees his father give Loretta a sad look, and that he gets am understanding one in return. "Dallas, we can't have a reasonable conversation if you're going to become aggressive." Loretta nods in affirmation.
"Do you even know what he's like?" Dallas asks her incredulously. "How many times he beat me for asking for anything? Even for food?"
"Settle down, Dallas. You're overreacting," his father says. He turns to Loretta. "He has always been prone to exaggerations." His father turns to him. "Now stop acting like a no-good hoodlum and be respectful, for once," he says to Dallas in a measured tone.
Dallas scoffs incredulously. "What have you ever done to earn my respect?"
"I'm your father," his old man snaps, eyes flashing.
"And I was your son. What did I ever do that I didn't deserve for you to take care of me?" Dallas almost shouts. "I was a little kid. If I'm a hoodlum, fine. What else was I supposed to do to survive?" Dallas looks around the table, stunned, and then he laughs harshly. "God. I can't believe-" He shakes his head. "This is all just a goddamn performance. You don't give a hang about me." His voice wavers, and he hates himself for it. Like hell is he gonna let his father see one ounce of emotion over their "relationship." Dallas grits his teeth so hard they feel like they could shatter. "You never have. You never will." He shakes his head. "I don't know why the fuck I came here," he says, trying to sound angry become his voice sounds tight and strangled. "Don't contact me again."
He storms out, gets into the car and slams the door, gunning the engine. He peels off so fast that the tires squeal.
Dallas grips the wheel tight. God. He can’t breathe, and his vision is blurring. He probably shouldn’t be driving, but he just has to get out. He’s not sure how far he drives. He pulls over suddenly, breathing hard. He jerks the wheel over as he pulls, parking crooked up against the curb in his haste. He stays still. Not moving, staring forward with his hands clenched tightly on the wheel.
And then he falls apart.
He drops his head against his hands on the wheel, and then he sobs so hard that he feels sick. His whole body is wracked with them, spasming, and he feels it all the way in his gut when he cries. It's humiliating, even alone, but all he can think about is that he can’t breathe.
He’s not just tearing up. This is completely broken, loud, guttural bawling. This is a total collapse. This is shameful, but maybe he won't have to live with the shame since he can barely breathe.
He can't calm down. And the only positive thing he can see right now is there’s no one around to see him or to hear the mortifying sounds of his breakdown.
A few minutes (that feel like hours) later, he scrambles to get the door open and then he's throwing up on the pavement. And he's still fucking crying while he's puking.
God, he still can’t breathe. He gasps and shudders and just tries not to die, even though he kind of wants to.
When he calms down enough to drive home, he keeps the radio off and is silent. He still has tears rolling down his cheeks intermittently, but he's not blubbering anymore, at least. And he manages to hold them back while walking from the car to his room, for the most part.
As soon as he makes it in the door, he’s a mess again. He cries for a long time, and he doesn't so much fall asleep as pass out from exhaustion.
