Can I has this for the emoji asks?
"You're working with the Professor?" The man lifts his gun up, his gaze menacing. Dallas can hardly see through the blood slipping down his face, baring his teeth at him. He's bigger, older than Dallas and he knows he is cornered. The alley is narrow, he's got no weapons anymore. "Well, I guess this is my lucky day."
Dallas snarls, taking another step back into the grimy alley. "Fuck you!"
There's a sound at the mouth of the alley and the man turns around to see what it is, gun still on Ponyboy. What happens next is something Dallas will remember for the rest of his life: the harsh crack of a whip, the sound of something meeting flesh, a blood curdling scream of pain, and the scent of blood staining the air. It takes him a moment to really register what's happened, as the would be gun man screams and clutches at his eye.
"You had better stay down or I'm taking your other one," Ponyboy threatens, caked in sweat and soot, his hair plastered to his forehead, his glare heavy at the man. The idiot still tries to stand up and charge and Ponyboy makes good on his threat.
Dallas has never had someone stand up for him like this, never do violence to protect him. He's never really conceptualized how much older, deadlier Ponyboy is, and he's left staring as Ponyboy moves past the groaning, weeping man. He doesn't know what to do when Ponyboy pulls him closer, until they're flush and Ponyboy is kissing him, trying to console him.
He might just be the luckiest guy in the Bronx.
