Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton own all of this.
"Hey, Dal," Tim said, and sunk down next to Dally on his front steps.
"Hey, Tim," said Dally, "What the fuck did'ja do to your face?" Dally jabbed at the pink scar running along Tim's face. He was rewarded with a look.
"Some tramp got me with a bottle when I tried to lift his wallet," Tim responded coolly. He fingered the scar smugly, staring into the sun. It wasn't a big deal really, but it made him look tuff and he knew it. He lit a cigarette and handed the lighter off to Dally.
"Y' got caught stealin' from the homeless." He shook his head, lit his own weed. "Shit, Tim, I thought you were better than that," Dally said. He rested his head on the cold, metal handrail, and chuckled.
"Needed bus fare." Tim shrugged. He smirked, rubbing day-old stubble he'd been too lazy to shave. "And what the fuck are you doin' that's so great, huh?"
Dally straightened up, seethed quietly because he'd been holed up for the last month. He had some catching up to do.
"Curly broke his arm after you got hauled in. Fell off a fucking telephone pole," Tim said shamelessly, and stared down at his boots.
"Only Curly, man. That stupid fucking kid." Dally scratched the back of his neck, scoffing. "So, Shepard?" Dally questioned expectantly. "What's the score?"
The sun was getting lower, and the sky was getting darker.
"Mathews and Sodapop Curtis got themselves hauled in last week," Tim told Dally. He shrugged, took a drag on his smoke.
"What the hell did Two-Bit do to get Soda hauled in?" Dally asked. It wasn't Two-Bit's fault, but it made Dally burn some.
"They were walking on their hands and doing gymnastics on the sidewalk," Tim chuckled. "Man, I would expect it from Mathews, but not Curtis. I thought he was at least halfway sane."
Dally cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. "The kid can't even remember his shoes half the time, man," he said. He flicked his ashes at Tim. "Makes green pancakes and shit, too."
Tim scowled, running a thumb over his nose. He scoffed, shifted on the hard steps. "My gang had it out with the Tiber Street Tigers," he said, changing the subject.
Tim looked really bored, but Dally knew they won because Tim couldn't keep a smug grin off his face. "Broke a couple ribs on four different guys."
Dally drummed his fingers on his knee, giving a bored snort. "That ain't all that's broken," he shot. He took a drag and chuckled, blowing his smoke in Tim's face.
"Knock it off," Tim growled. He propped his elbow on Dally's shoulder with a wry grin. "Y' know, all the fun happens when you're in jail."
"The fun is wherever I am, man," Dally corrected Tim dryly. Dally knocked Tim's elbow of his shoulder.
"Nothing's much fun without you." Tim put his elbow right back on Dally's shoulder.
"Nothing is fun with you," Dally stated, and pushed Tim off again. Tim pushed him right back.
Tim looked up, smirked because the sun was gone. Time for action.
"I'll meet you later," Tim said. He put out his cigarette, grinding it into the handrail.
"Yeah, well, y' know where t' find me." Dally put out his cigarette also, and they stood up, the step creaking under them
Tim's boots made hollow clunking sounds as he walked off, both of them parting. Dallas went one way, and Tim went the other.
Author's Note: A huge round of applause goes out to aerodynamics for all her help with this! Still, any reviews are appreciated.