also!!!! 9, 18, and 51!!!!
"Really gonna do that shite 'round the kiddies?" Cathal's throat is dry, the words coming out with an unflattering crack, not that anyone in present company would expect otherwise, let alone give a damn.
The acidic smell of stomach bile hangs so thickly in the air that it burns Cathal's tongue with the memory of the taste, the bathroom stuffy and stagnant, the flickering bulb giving off a very quiet buzz and dim light, if the beers he had the day prior weren't still clinging to his mind Cathal wouldn't have noticed.
A pitiful groan answers him at first, followed by the creaking voice of his eldest son; "don't ask me that." The fourteen-going-on-fifteen-year-old was splayed out across the floor, gangly limbs and too-thin body wrapped around the basin of the toilet like a cheap whore with her last dollar.
Something sick sits in Cathal's gut that feels awfully like the dread that'd come with the sound of his pa's boots after a long day as he shifts forwards, his shoe thumping against what remained of the cabinet door making his son wince, full body tensing for a moment and a small whimper slipping out. One of Tim's arms has jumped up to drape across his eyes and block out the light, Cathal swallows thickly at the pinpricks and bruises tracing up the pale, boney arms, track marks that had been appearing more and more the longer it went unmentioned.
I Couldn't Whisper When you Needed it Shouted. - Cathal au
18. "I shouldn't be in love with you."
"I shouldn't be in love with you." It's not the first time Dallas has heard it, or some variation of it, in his life. Nor is it the first time he's bitten back the snarl that tries to curl onto his face in response.
Sylvia had left Dallas hurting, malicious in the way she'd spat those words like insults, oil off her tongue in the heat of a fight just to feed the flames.
He looks up from the book he'd not been reading, just letting it sit open in front of him to appear busy, there's something real and earnest in Ponyboy's eyes that makes him bite the inside of his lip, big green eyes darting around the shelves nervously, fingers drumming across his own hip as he clearly weighs the rest of his sentence, oblivious of whatever memories he'd dredged up in Dallas in the most endearing way.
When the younger fails to find his words, Dallas instead speaks up, breaking the silence, "Ya tried that new place down on fifth?"
Eyebrows furrow adorably as Ponyboy shakes his head.
"I've got a reservation with an open seat, if you've got time?" Dallas wasn't sure in his invitation until pink crawled up Ponyboy's face and painted his ears bright red, tripping over his words in his rush to agree, a grin bright enough to blind on his freckled face.
Unspecified dalpony au, librarian au?
51. "I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking."
"I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking." Curly's voice is low, almost so low Ponyboy has to strain to hear it, despite how close the older boys face was to his own, close enough that his wretched smelling breath hits Ponyboy's skin in hot waves.
His stomach churns like he's going to throw up, and he can't tell if it's from the stench of alcohol he can taste on Curly's breath or that his cautious looks had been taken in the wrong way. He takes a step back, being matched by Curly until his back meets the wall and he nearly stumbles over a stool, swallowing back a yelp as he realizes he'd backed himself out of view of the main room- out of view of Sodapop and Steve.
Unspecified dalpony au, alternate first meeting