Disclamer: I own nothing. S.E. Hilton owns the characters.
"Solace"
Because in the disarray of night this is all the two try to find.
The klaxon sound of cars and dogs barking outside could be heard through the thin window that did little to nothing against the boisterousness of night. Dally sighed, whether from fatigue or annoyance he couldn't tell, as he fervently waited for the boy on the other side of the door to come in. It was always like this and he didn't understand why the younger greaser was still standing in the hall that smelled of beer and hookers instead of in his shitty bathroom getting his shitty cuts treated. Even though this thing, whatever it was, had become routine Dally could never open the door for Johnny. This wasn't a shelter, it wasn't a home, and it most certainly wasn't where Johnny should be.
In the midst of his thoughts, a soft knock resounded, almost inaudible. With his face burried in his pillows the blonde let out a grunt, acknowledging Johnny's presence and allowing him entrance. After a pause the door slowly creaked open, gusting in a cold chill to which Dally ignored dispite the goosebumps ghosting his skin. The small thumps of Johnny's footsteps as he padded into the room blended into the sound of night and the quick click of the door lock. Neither said anything as nothing was needed to be said. Dally fixedly shifted to the end of the bed, his clouded eyes staring at the piss stained walls, trying his best to tune out the light ruffling of Johhny unchanging. The longing to turn around and watch him itched into Dally's skin but he knew if he did something unknown and unwelcome would happen.
Eventually, after what felt like forever when it had only been mere minutes, the dark haired boy slipped under the sheets, scooting far from Dally, so much to the fact that his left arm dangled off the edge of the bed. A vexation of guilt and anger boiled in the pit of Dally's stomach, the close yet distant feeling picking at his insides. As contridictions and self-annihilation raced within Dally's mind, the night wore on, leaving him behind to himself and the black and blue Johnny on the other side of the bed.
A meager apology slipped from Johnny's lips as he curled into himself, regret radiating from his hunched shoulders. The hard asphalt of the lot seemed more comforting than being here where love was a foreign object. There was a long silence then and Johnny thought that maybe he got lucky and Dally had already fallen asleep. He was sure of it now and had begun to let his eyes slide shut, the dull throbbing of his cheek setting a languid tempo, lulling him to the one place he could rest.
Johnny's lids flipped up as he heard the low creaking of the matress and his voice caught in his throat as he felt Dally's hot breathe on his neck. "Don't give me that bullshit", Dally whispered into the Johnny's hair, impatience rusted in his voice. Johnny merely apologized again, heat cascading up to his ears. He hated this. Why had he even come here in the first place? The greaser's actions and words set Johnny into a turmoil that even he himself didn't understand.
More than anything Johnny yearned for something that Dally would try to give him. No matter what was said or done within the walls of Dally's scummy room the crude world sat waiting on the other side, ready to pounce unpon the two. The thought scared Johnny to death so he ignored it, deciding it better to just rest his cold bony back on Dally's warm chest and let sleep take him elsewhere.
Dally cursed himself. He should have just locked the door or pretend to never hear Johnny or anything honestly because he couldn't take the pained expression on Johnny's face as he slept. The fact that he could do nothing about it set his anger to flames and he mentally argued himself between holding the boy or just turning his back like usual. His fingers tingled and his hairs stood on edge as he decided on the latter. Glowering with a sullen look his face, he shifted to his side, the bed moaning under the weight. Even though he changed positions, the aspect of his feelings did not. Thinking nothing but of the boy next to him Dally indecisivelly turned once again, drapping an arm around the smaller boy's wiry waist and letting the passing night come and take him away. But by the time Dally woke up and all that remained was the dip in the matress where Johnny slept, all thoughts were forgotten and shoved into the dark recesses of his cold mind, not to be found until Johnny would, once again, surely awaken them.
A drabble thing of some sorts, not really sure what this is? Can be taken as slash if you want. R&R?