Hello! I absolutely love your writing, and I was wondering if you could write Dallas and reader as his girlfriend, and he like, Accidentally dislocates her knee roughhousing (or fooling around) with her?
Thank you so much! I'm a bit tired but decided to go for it anyway. Hope you like it! (And that there aren't too many typos lol).
Knee Injury
You're playing football with your boyfriend, Dallas, and some of his friends on a cool Saturday morning. You've been having a great time, and you're getting a pretty good workout. You and Dal are on different teams, largely because Two-Bit was one of the captains and thought it would be hilarious to mess with Dallas. At first, Dallas was pretty worried about you playing with the guys, but a could of his buddies' gals are playing, too, and as the game has gone on he has started to enjoy it more.
You've been playfully trash talking each other, and it doesn't surprise you, when you get the ball, that Dallas tackles you. It does surprise you, though, when you feel a pop in your knee. The next thing you know, you're on the ground crying out in pain.
You're in too much pain to really take in everything around you, or to see the stricken look on Dally's face when Darry scoops you up and carries you to the truck.
You're pretty loopy with pain medication when Dallas comes into your room at the hospital. They gave you the good stuff apparently, to fix your knee. They were able to reduce your dislocated kneecap without surgery, so you're pretty happy about that. You're pretty happy about a lot of things at the moment.
"Dally!" you cry out happily when he enters. He's staring down at the ground, shoulders slumped, and he's not coming closer.
Why isn't he coming closer?
"Why do you look like a puppy who ate the newspaper?" you blurt out, confused. "Come here."
He takes a couple of steps, but he still won't look at you.
"Dal, come here," you whine playfully. "They won't let me get out of bed. I have to wait for them to strap my knee together and bring crutches." Dal lets out kind of a choked noise then, and you try to make eye contact with him. "Dallas what's wrong?"
He does look up then with an expression of disbelief and red-rimmed eyes. "What do you mean what's wrong?" Dallas asks hoarsely. "I " he clears his throat. "God. I'm so sorry."
"I'm gonna be okay," you tell him. "Just gonna have to have some follow ups with the doctor and wear a brace for awhile." The medicine is still affecting you quite a bit, but worry is starting to crack through the happy haze. "Dallas. It was just an accident," you say softly. He looks away, eyes shimmering. "Baby. Come here." He shakes his head. "Please?"
He comes closer, to the edge of your bed, but he doesn't sit. You reach for his hand and he pulls away.
"Don't," he rasps. "You should stay away from me."
"Why would I do that?"
"I ruin everything I touch," he says, voice breaking. "I don't know why I thought I could... I'm dangerous."
You try to reach out again, and he flinches away. "Dallas, it was an accident," you say softly. "I'm not mad at you."
"You should be," he snaps, running a hand aggressively through his hair and choking down a sob.
"No, I shouldn't be. Because it was an accident. It could have happened to anybody," you tell him gently. You can practically feel the self-loathing radiating off of him, and you know he's going to spiral if you can't pull him out of it. "Come here. Please. I need a hug, Dal," you beg. "Sit with me. Please?"
He reluctantly sits at the side of your bed.
"Nope. Come here," you say, tugging him gently toward you so you can wrap your arms around him. God, he's shaking. You see him reach a hand up to scrub at his face. You hug him tightly. "I am not mad or upset with you," your murmur. "Accidents happen. That's all this was."
He hugs you back then, burying his face in your neck. You feel damp, sticky tears wet your neck and part of your shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he chokes out, voice strangled. "I didn't mean-"
You shush him gently. "I know that. Of course you didn't mean to," you murmur. You reach up and smooth his hair out of his face.
"I swore that I was never gonna do what he did," Dallas says quietly. His voice sounds rough.
You almost ask him who, but you realize who he's talking about. "You're nothing like your dad." He chokes down a gasp. "It's different, Dal. I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose." You hug him a little tighter. "Stop beating yourself up over it."
You're grateful that no one comes in for awhile, because you're afraid if you let Dallas go he might run across state lines or something. He sniffles in your arms, and by the time he's seeming more like himself, a staff member comes in. He pulls away, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed when they enter. As soon as they leave, you tug him gently back toward you again. He hesitates, but he lets you pull him back into a hug. "I really am sorry," he says quietly, resting his head in the crook of your neck.
"Honey, I know that," you murmur, feeling much more like your usual self.
"You needed a hug, huh?" He mumbles.
You smile, resting your head against his. "Maybe," you say softly. "I know at least one of us needed one," you joke, turning to kiss him on the head.
The fact that Pony knew the exact number of steps between Dally and Johnnys graves. The fact he had walked between them so many times that he had the number memorized.
Summary: Request - Can you do a Dally or Darry x female reader where reader is having a really difficult time at home (mom and dad are kinda like Johnny's parents and beat up physically and mentally on reader?)... Read Rest Here
A/N: As long as I live I will forever write The Outsiders. Such a unique group to write. This one is tough but I really love it!
Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader (Johnny Cade Sister)
Word Count: 3.3k +
TW: ABUSE, talks of abuse, hitting, bruises, cuts, blood, threats of violence, general Outsiders warnings
As you stumbled through the door of the Curtis household the entire greaser gang turned to look at you. Their expressions shifting from surprise to concern in an instant. Dally was the first to react, his eyes widening in realization as he took in the extent of your injuries.
"Jesus, what happened to you?" Dally's voice was gruff but there was an underlying edge of worry as he approached you. His movements were surprisingly gentle as he took in your battered appearance. His usually stern expression softened which revealed a glimpse of the concern that lurked beneath his tough exterior.
You could feel the weight of their stares. Their unspoken questions hanging heavy in the air. It was clear that they were shocked by the state you were in, and the realization only made you feel more vulnerable. Because for as bad as you felt you just knew you looked 10 times worse. It wasn’t the first time he’d laid hands on you, but it was the first time he didn’t seem to want to stop.
"I-I... I had a run-in with my old man," you managed to choke out. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you fought to hold back the tears brimming at the edge of your eyes. You’d done so good escaping it was suddenly catching up to you what you had just gone through. The words tasted bitter on your tongue. A painful reminder of the nightmare you couldn't escape.
Steve's jaw clenched tight with anger as he took in your bruised and bloodied face, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "That bastard," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with rage. "He’s gonna pay for this, I swear."
Dally's expression darkened at your words. His features contorted with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "I'll kill him," he growled, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought to contain the rage simmering just beneath the surface. His words hung heavy in the air as it was a promise of retribution that sent a shiver down your spine. The scary part was that you knew he would kill him given the chance. It was one thing with Johnny… but when he saw you so battered he found a rage not even he knew he had.
Instinctively you flinched at his declaration. The raw intensity in his voice triggering a flood of memories you wished you could forget. You had already endured so much, the wounds—both physical and emotional—still fresh and raw. The thought of more violence only served to deepen the pit of dread that churned in your stomach. Sure, you grew up with the greasers but it never made the violence and threats of it any easier.
As if sensing your reaction Dally's eyes softened with remorse. A pang of guilt flickering across his features. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering uncertainly over your shoulder before finally making the gentlest contact. He was afraid of the bruises underneath your clothes, the ones he couldn’t see. "Hey," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his earlier words. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For all his tough exterior there was a vulnerability in Dally that few ever got to see. A glimpse of the boy beneath the cocky attitude that he showed all too often. As you looked into his eyes you saw not just the anger and the pain, but also the deep-seated compassion that he tried so hard to conceal. His presence was a balm to your battered soul. A reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.
Dally's sharp gaze hardened as he turned to the group just staring at the scene unfolding before them. "Get the hell out of here if you ain’t gonna be useful," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. "Give us some space guys." The rest of the gang exchanged uneasy glances before nodding in agreement, understanding the need for solitude in such a vulnerable moment. With one last look of concern, they filed out of the room leaving you and Dally in a cocoon of quiet solidarity.
As Soda made to leave with them Dally stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. "Soda, wait," he said, his voice softer now, filled with urgency. "Get the first aid kit and a warm towel. We need to clean her up." Soda nodded in understanding, a determined look crossing his features as he hurried off to retrieve the supplies.
As Soda hurried off to retrieve the supplies, Dally turned his attention back to you, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Hang in there, sweetheart," he said softly. His voice laced with reassurance as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "We'll get you patched up real quick."
You managed a weak smile. So grateful for his comforting words amidst the raging emotions swirling inside you. Despite the pain and the fear that still lingered there was a sense of relief knowing that you were in capable hands. You were being taken care of the boy who cared deeply for your well-being.
A knowing smile just ghosted over Soda's lips as he returned with the first aid kit and a warm towel. He was silently acknowledging the unspoken bond between you and Dally. He knew how much Dally had loved you for so long. And seeing the two of you together now filled him with a bittersweet sense of pride. He’d never seen Dallas so gentle.
With practiced efficiency, Dally and Soda set to work cleaning and dressing your wounds. Their movements gentle yet purposeful as they tended to each cut and bruise with care. Dally's hands were surprisingly gentle as he worked. A stark contrast to the roughness you had come to expect from him. However, even he wasn’t perfect. There was a moment when Dally accidentally pressed a little too hard on one of your bruises causing you to let out an involuntary yelp of pain. Instantly his expression shifted. A look of sadness crossing his features as he realized his mistake.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice filled with genuine remorse as he gently pulled back, his hands hovering uncertainly over your injured skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be more careful, I promise."
You could see the sincerity in his eyes. It was layered with a depth of emotion you hadn't seen from him before. A stark reminder that beneath his tough exterior there was that vulnerability he tried so hard to conceal. You saw not just the pain and the regret in his eyes but also the profound sense of care and affection that he held for you.
"It's okay, Dally, really" you reassured him, your voice soft as you reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I know you didn't mean it. I’m so lucky to have you."
His gaze softened at your words. A small flicker of gratitude passing between you as you shared a moment of understanding. Despite the rough edges and the scars that marked his soul there was a gentleness to Dally that few ever got to see. A side of him that he reserved for those he held closest to his heart. A side that only seemed reserved for you.
With a nod of appreciation Dally resumed his careful ministrations. His touch lighter and more cautious than before. And as he worked to tend to your wounds with a renewed focus, you couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for the boy who had always been there for you. Always, no questions asked.
As Dally apologized profusely and you reassured him, Soda noticed the exchange between you two. Sensing the depth of emotion in the room he took a step back giving you and Dally a moment of privacy. There was that knowing look in Soda's eyes, an acknowledgment of the connection between you and Dally. With a subtle nod Soda retreated to give you both some space. His intuition telling him that this was a moment that needed to be shared between just the two of you. As he busied himself with tidying up the first aid supplies before exiting the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth fill his chest for the two of you.
Once Dally finished tending to your wounds with careful precision a flood of emotions washed over you. Threatening to overwhelm your fragile composure. The physical pain had subsided only to be replaced now by a tidal wave of raw emotion that surged through your veins like a raging river. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to contain the torrent of feelings that threatened to consume you. It wasn't just the pain of your injuries that brought you to tears, but the weight of everything you had endured, the fear, the loneliness, the relentless cycle of abuse that had plagued your life for so long.
You cried for your little brother, lost and alone in a world that had turned its back on him. Your Johnny. You cried for the father who had betrayed your trust as his fists rained down upon you with a cruelty that knew no bounds. But most of all you cried for Dally, for his unexpected gentleness and the overwhelming sense of safety and comfort that he had provided in your darkest hour.
As you sat with Dally in the quiet intimacy of the room you felt a sense of release wash over you. A cathartic release of pent-up emotion that had been building inside you for far too long. And as the tears flowed freely down your cheeks you knew that you were not alone. That you were loved and cherished by the one person who had always been there for you, offering his unwavering support and understanding in the face of adversity.
As your tears flowed Dally's heart ached with a depth of emotion he had never allowed himself to fully acknowledge before. Without hesitation, he shifted, pulling you fully onto his lap, cradling you against his chest with a tenderness that was so different than his tough exterior. His arms wrapped around you protectively creating a safety that enveloped you both.
He rubbed soothing circles on your back. His touch a comforting reassurance of his unwavering support. In the quietness of the moment, he whispered words of comfort and encouragement. His voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room.
Feeling your sobs intensify he tightened his embrace. His hold on you was firm yet gentle as if trying to absorb some of the pain that wracked your body and soul. With each shuddering breath you took he squeezed you tighter. His touch was a silent reassurance that he was there for you. He would never let you face your demons alone.
"You're safe now, sweetheart," he murmured. His breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Let it out. I'm here for you."
His words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that you were not alone in your pain. With each gentle stroke of his hand against your back, he offered you solace and understanding, his touch a silent promise of his unwavering support.
"It's okay to cry," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room. "I've got you. I won't let anyone hurt you again, I swear it."
His heart broke for you, for the girl he cared for more deeply than he dared to admit. In that moment, as he held you close, he wished he could take away all the pain and suffering you had endured, to shield you from the cruelties of the world with nothing more than his love.
As time passed your sobs gradually subsided leaving behind a lingering sense of emptiness and exhaustion. In the quiet aftermath of your tears, you took a shaky breath. Your chest still tight with emotion. Dally held you close.
Feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear you found solace in the warmth of his embrace. With a heavy sigh you finally found the strength to speak. Your voice trembling with the weight of the words you had kept buried deep within your heart.
"I miss him," you spoke. Your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke of your little brother, lost and alone in a world that had turned its back on him. "I miss Johnny so much it hurts."
Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over as you thought of your brother who had been forced to run away. His pure innocence stolen by the cruelty of the world.
"I miss the way things used to be," you continued. Your voice filled with longing as you spoke of a time before your father's descent into darkness, before the alcohol and the violence tore your family apart. "I miss when my dad wasn't a drunk, when he was still my dad, you know?"
Your words hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the innocence you had lost, of the life that seemed so distant and foreign now. In the safety of Dally's embrace, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of the past, to grieve for the family that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control.
As you spoke of missing Johnny, Dally's embrace tightened. His arms offering you a sense of strength and stability amidst the chaos of your emotions. His voice was gentle as he responded. His words a quiet reassurance in the face of your pain.
"I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "We all miss him. But you know Johnny, he's resourceful as hell. And with Pony by his side? Those two can handle anything."
There was a quiet conviction in Dally's voice. It was a steadfast belief in Johnny's resilience that offered you a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Despite the uncertainty of his fate, you found comfort in Dally's unwavering confidence. He was a reminder that you were not alone in your worries for your brother.
"And your dad..." Dally trailed off, his voice heavy with sympathy as he spoke of the man who had once been your protector, now reduced to a shadow of his former self. "He's not the man you remember, I know. But that ain't your fault, darlin'. None of this is."
His words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that you were not to blame for the sins of your father, that you deserved love and happiness just as much as anyone else. In the safety of his embrace, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of the past, to grieve for the family that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control.
But even as the tears continued to fall, you knew that you were not alone. That Dally was there for you and always ready to offer his unwavering support and understanding in the face of your pain. As you clung to each other in the quiet darkness you found solace in the simple act of being together.
As your emotions opened you realized your love for him wasn't triggered by a simple moment. But rather by a complex series of events that had been building up over time. It was the culmination of countless conversations, shared moments, and lingering glances that had slowly but surely chipped away at the walls around your heart.
It started with the little things. Like the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you laugh or the way he would brush a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that took your breath away. It was the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning, the whispered confessions and shared secrets that bound you together in ways you couldn't explain. But it was also the bigger moments. The ones that left you reeling with emotion and uncertainty. There was a time you called, and he showed up at your door in the middle of the night. No questions he was there as his face drawn and tired, and you knew without a doubt that he would always be there for you, no matter what.
As you looked into his eyes and saw the depth of his feelings reflected back at you, something shifted inside you. It was as if all the pieces fell into place like a puzzle finally coming together after years of searching. And in that moment, you knew. You knew that you couldn't keep it to yourself any longer, that you had to tell him how you felt, no matter the consequences.
So, you took a deep breath. Steeling yourself for what was to come, and you let the words spill from your lips in a rush of emotion. It was messy and imperfect, but it was real. It was true. And it was exactly what you needed to say.
"I... Dally, I just... I don't even know where to start," you began. Your voice trembling with emotion as you struggled to find the right words. "But I can't keep it in any longer. I think... no, I know I... I love you. Like, really love you."
Your admission hung heavy in the air, a confession so raw and honest that it left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. But as you looked into Dally's eyes, filled with a mixture of surprise and tenderness, you knew that you had made the right decision to speak your truth.
"I know it sounds crazy," you continued, your words tumbling out in a rush. "But it's true. You've always been there for me, through thick and thin. And it's not just because you're always there to clean up my messes or protect me from the world, although you do a damn good job of that. It's because... because I genuinely care about you, Dallas Winston. I care about you more than I ever thought possible. And it scares me sometimes, how much I care."
Your heart pounded in your chest as you bared your soul to him, laying your feelings bare for the world to see. But as you spoke, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you had finally spoken the words that had been weighing on your heart for so long.
"And I know it's a lot to take in," you concluded, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I had to tell you. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer."
For a moment, the air felt thick with anticipation. The intensity of your confession hanging between you like a tangible thing. And then as if a switch had been flipped, the hardness in Dally's eyes melted away. Replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from deep within him.
A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth gradually blossoming into a grin that lit up his entire face. It was a grin like you'd never seen before. A grin that reached all the way to his eyes filling them with a light you hadn't realized was missing.
His fingers brushed gently against your tear-stained cheeks. His touch tender and affectionate as he cupped your face in his hands. There was a sense of wonder in his expression, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening, as if he had never dared to hope for this moment.
"Damn, sweetheart," he breathed. His voice tinged with awe. "I never knew you had it in you. Talking like that. But I'm glad you did. Because, hell, I love you too. I always have."
His words sent a rush of warmth through you. A feeling of elation that bubbled up from deep within your chest. And as you looked into his eyes, shining with a happiness you had never seen before, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, something real and true and utterly perfect.
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I guarantee for years after their parents passed Darry would stay awake and intermittently check in on Sodapop and Ponyboy as they slept to ensure they were still breathing. It'd probably flare around the anniversary of their passing and for a few weeks he'd be irritable and overly tired due to him hardly sleeping in favor of making sure his brothers were still alive.
(I can't help but to imagine Ponyboy waking up at like two in the morning and screaming at the blurry-eyed sight of Darry leaning in their doorway with a straight face.)
Can you write ED pony after johnny and Dallas death and darry noticing and trying to talk to him about it but he's already real aft into it .
(A/N) Thx to @m4sonn help me write this! :33333
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“Pony, Aren’t you gonna’ eat your dinner?” Darry asks, pointing his fork at my untouched plate. I flinched, I was spaced out elsewhere. “Oh, uhm.. yeah..” I mumbled as I picked up my fork, I looked down at it with shaky hands. I couldn’t eat this. I couldn’t.. God, I couldn’t even put food on the fork let alone take a bite. “I got that elderly couple's house done” Darry mentions, “Oh really? Gosh didn’t they pay you a lot?” “Ya…” Everything soon faded out, I couldn't hear what they're talking about.. I don’t want to hear them.. The clinking of forks were fading into perspective, getting louder the more I dissociated.
“I.. uhm–” I suddenly stood up. I wobble around at first but I try to keep my balance. “Pony, Are you feeling okay?” Darry says in a stern voice. “I– ya.. I’ll be in.. my r-room.” I stutter out, turning away to the hallway opening the bathroom door. I lock the door and stumble over to the sink. I hunched myself over the toilet, the small snack of chocolate cake I had eaten only minutes before dinner coming right back up. It tasted like baloney. All of it. Everything. It reeked of baloney. I couldn’t get rid of it. God I can’t. I hate bologna. I hate it. I can’t. I just can’t. I felt like I was there, I didn’t wanna eat anything because of that. I don’t know. I’ve been like this ever since windrixville.
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I coughed into the sink one last time, soon to turn the leaky faucet on to clean up. Knock knock,
“Ponyboy? Are… are you okay in there?” Darry speaks into the door. “I..” as I say that I almost gag up more of my food, or what's left of it. “Nngh– ya Darry, just fine..” there was a silence from the other side of the door. “You don’t… sound okay… come here kiddo….” He said softly, he sounded like he was talking to a wounded puppy. I quickly flushed the toilet since I hadn’t beforehand and tried to wash the smell of puke from my breath. I opened the door to see Darry there, soda was nowhere to be seen. He looked down at me and kneeled a bit to be more my level, I hated when he did that. Made me feel like a little kid. I ain’t no little kid anymore. I’m fourteen and I’ve been fourteen for a month…! I’m tired of saying that, I feel like I say it or at least think about it every day. “Kiddo… don’t lie to me… are . You . Ok….?” I looked up at him “yes… I’m okay Darry, I am… I’m fine…” I felt like I was trying to assure myself more than him but he wasn’t buying it. “Did you… throw up…?” “I— uh— no…” I stuttered out. “Your eyes are all red, like you were crying or something… plus, I can smell it on your breath…” I immediately backed up a bit from him “I-I- uhm…” I stuttered at him. To my surprise he pulled me into a hug, I stood there in shock for a sec before just breaking down. I started to sob, I didn’t know what got into me. I’m supposed to be tough, but I just… I dunno… I sobbed into his shoulder and hugged him back tightly. “Pony.. It’s ok..” Darry coos. “No! No it ain’t! It never will be…” I hiccup into his shoulder, yelling at him. I know I didn’t mean it, but I didn’t know how else to let my frustration out. I guess this is how things are going to stay, aren’t they?
“Pony.. please, it’ll get better. I’ll make sure of it.” Darry sounds like he is breaking into tears.
I didn’t say nothin’ about it, just thought about it.
Part of the Dally's Dad Storyline. Basically what you need to know if you're reading as a one-shot is that Dally's father wrote him a letter asking him to come for Christmas, Dallas had very mixed feelings due to abuse and neglect, and a well-meaning Darry (who misses his own father) advised that he would probably regret not going. Here is the dinner scene. Warning that it's kind of brutal.
Dallas doesn't ask for more input on whether to go see his old man on Christmas. He just tells you that he is going to go, and he somewhat begrudgingly allows you to come with him.
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. I see you brought a girl."
When Dallas is still silent, jaw clenched, his father talks directly to you. “Are you and my son a couple? “ Before anyone can answer, his father laughs. “Dallas, cat got your tongue? Or have you just forgotten your manners? Introduce us to your lovely lady friend.” 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.
You interrupt the old man's laughter by introducing yourself. Dallas can see that you’re tense, and he really hopes that you’re not sore at him for making you introduce yourself. 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 there's another woman out here now, he presumes it's the Loretta mentioned in the letter, and everyone is moving to sit down. Dallas kind of numbly follows.
"It's so nice to finally meet you, Dallas,” Loretta says warmly. “Tucker has told me so much about you.” Loretta turns to you. “And you look lovely, dear. Have you and Dallas been dating for long?”
“About a year and a half,” you say. “But we were friends for several months before that.”
“Oh, my,” Loretta says. “It's so unusual that I wouldn't have heard anything about you from Tucker.”
If Dally's mouth were working, he would probably comment that it shouldn't be that unusual. He has seen his father may be a total of three days in the last two years, and those days weren't exactly pleasant.
“You're right, that is… unusual,” you say. “My parents have known Dallas since before we got together. They love him.” Dallas is a little bit surprised by your stating that so openly. Your parents have always been kind to him, but love is another thing entirely.
“Well, I suppose that part, that they love him, doesn't surprise me,” Loretta says within an easy laugh. “I've heard nothing but positive things about Dallas from Tucker. He's 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 we can all get to know each other,” his father says to you jovially.
“We've been serious for a while now, actually,” you inform him.
His father falters for a moment, then gives Dallas a smile that’s just a little bit too tight. “Dallas, I know you are too busy to come see me often, but hopefully you won't keep this lovely young lady hidden.”
You make eye contact with his father. “I'd be happy to join Dallas anytime he is visiting.”
“Well, then, I suppose that's settled,” Loretta says cheerfully.
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. He sees you shoot him a worried look.
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 before you speak. “Loretta, please forgive me for saying this. I don't mean in any way to be disrespectful in your home,” you say. “But I think it's a bit of an oversimplification to describe their history as just a little falling out.”
Loretta looks taken a back. “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.”
Now you look almost as shocked as Dallas feels. Your voice is measured and even when you speak again. “With all due respect,” you say, “the way you’re phrasing that feels incredibly dismissive. You're not talking about an argument over forgetting to take out the garbage or curfew. You're talking about abuse and neglect.”
Loretta looks absolutely horrified, and Dallas feels like his entire body is tingling. “Surely you are misunderstanding or exaggerating, dear.”
“I don’t believe that I am,” you say coolly. “But it's not really my place to speak to that any further.”
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 you, and feels a wave of terror that you might believe his father’s version of events.
Wait…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. He sees you stand, but he can't look at you or he's going to fucking lose it. "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, and you follow behind him. He hears you say something, but he's out the door too quickly to determine what you said. He gets into the car and slams the door, gunning the engine. He has to force himself to stay long enough to let you get in and shut the door; and then he peels off so fast that the tires squeal.
Dallas grips the wheel tight. You have never seen him like this. "Dallas," you say, clearly trying to sound calm and get his attention. "Dallas, honey, why don't you let me drive." His grip tightens on the wheel as he speeds away from his father's house. "Dallas," you say more plaintively. "Honey. Pull over."
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.
"Dally," you say gently, and you put a hand on his shoulder. Which is all that it takes for him to completely fall 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, and he'd be much more embarrassed if he could stop panicking over how hard it is to breathe.
He knows you have seen him in tears before, but this is awful. 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.
His whole body feels numb enough that it takes him a minute to realize you’re rubbing his back.
He can't calm down. And if you’re talking to him, he can't even hear the words over 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.
He hears the other car door shut, and then you’re kneeling in front of him and he's so embarrassed and hurt that he kind of wants to die. You’re standing right next to where he threw up, and you’re looking at his face, and he can't handle this.
This is more than he can stand.
He keeps trying to turn and hide his face, and you’re gently guiding him to look at you.
"Breathe with me, baby," you say, practically forcing him to look in your eyes. "I've got you. Breathe."
He can't. He fucking can't.
"Yes you can," you say firmly. "Focus on me. Deep breath. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere. Breathe with me." He closes his eyes, ashamed. "No," you say gently. "Look at me. Breathe with me." You rub your thumbs over his cheeks before resting your hands behind his neck again. "Look at me, Dallas. I love you." He chokes on a sob. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere. Now open your eyes and breathe with me."
He forces himself to open them, and it's one of the hardest things he has ever done.
"There you go, baby," you murmur, reaching up to wipe your thumbs over his cheeks again. "There you go. Good job." He gasps and hiccups, but he's starting to breathe. "You scared me for a minute there,” you say softly. Now, you can walk around or slide over. But you need to let me drive you home." He slides across the seat to the passenger side. "You want me to take you home? Or to Darry and Soda?" Dallas shakes his head, breath still hitching. "Okay. Home."
Neither of you say anything in the time youth drive back. Dallas 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.
Dallas half expects you not to follow him to his room. To just bolt away, because he's a complete and total disaster.
You shut the door behind you. "Baby, I'm so sorry," you say earnestly, and then he breaks all over again. You cross to him in a couple of steps and pull him into a fierce hug.
Jesus, he's a mess. He doesn't even realize that he's babbling a stream of swears intermixed with apologies until you speak again.
"Hush, baby," you murmur, holding him tightly and rubbing his back. "It's okay, you've got nothing to be sorry for." You pause. "Come on, let's get into bed, and let me hold you. Okay?" He doesn't answer, but he lets you lead him in that direction. You lay down and wrap both of your arms around him; he curls up against your chest, burying his face in your neck.
He cries for a long time. He doesn't so much fall asleep as pass out from exhaustion.
