In which Tim Shepard unwillingly "adopts" a stupid dog that is dubbed Winston (after the cigarettes, of course) that unintentionally becomes his ward and causes an impromptu conversation about that idiot Dallas Winston with the airhead Curtis kid. Or alternatively, Tim finally coming to terms with Dallas' death. Post-novel.

Disclaimer: The Outsiders is the literary genius of S.E. Hinton, and nowhere close to ever becoming mine. If it was mine, I'd have a crack prequel where Tim and Dally take an unpremeditated road trip and cause a lot of trauma to people. Oops.

The whole thing starts on a Tuesday night, approximately a month and a half after the rumble incident. It's a school night, so it's relatively quieter than it usually is with what all the school kiddies probably tucked away in their beds at this point. Still, the night life is teeming with suspicious looking characters ranging from druggies to the hardbodies wandering around looking for a good time, and Tim is satisfied with the familiar norm of his realm, now currently the parking lot outside of a diner. Relaxing now, he leans his head back in his Mercury Montclair (his pride and joy, the stolen fruitation of a heist from two years ago), eyes closed in a peaceful manner as he hears the other boys of his outfit bickering as usual in the background. All seems well, but there's still that strange, uncomfortable ache he feels in himself, and it frustrates him. Ignoring the feeling as always, he shakes his head and decides he'll try to take a nap or something, when he hears Jimmy and Kenny screech like banshees, and his head snaps up and hits the roof of his car. Fucking hell. Groaning as he rubs the new sore spot on his head, he grumbles as he kicks the car door open. This better be good.

"The fuck is going on here?" he snarls, and immediately all the boys stand straight up, as if their backs had always been governed by a stiff metal pole in them, and Tim smirks at their behavior. "Well?"

His question is answered when Kenny comes waving a bloodied hand at him, and Tim's eyes narrow, scanning the area immediately for the threat.

"What happened to you?" he asks, but Kenny's too busy hissing and cradling his hand with the good one. Jimmy answers for him.

"Tim, man, there's this shit crazy dog out there—"

Tim barks out a laugh. That was it?

"You guys are flipping your shit over a stupid mutt?" he asks over the roar of his laughter, and some of the other guys join in on the laughter.

"A stupid mutt who almost took my fucking hand off!" Kenny cries in protest, holding up his mangled hand to Tim's face, and Tim coolly waves the grotesque hand away with his own.

"What were you punks up to anyway?"

"Tryna pick up broads," Jimmy says with a toothy grin. "Dog was wandering around the back of the diner for a while, and it was scaring the girls, so Kenny tried to kick it away and it tried to eat his hand clean off."

Kenny moans in confirmation of the story, and Robbie comes up to lead him away to his car with a, "Aw, come on, you big sissy, it's just a dog bite."

But it's quite clear Kenny's hand requires medical attention, and Tim's amused.

"Where's the thing now?"

"It's still—it's right there!" Jimmy shouts in alarm, and immediately all the boys pull back at the sight of a growling, enormous Rottweiler, which was indeed, only a few feet clear of them.

"Jesus, that's a dog?" one of them exclaims, as Kenny goes pale and instantly flees upon seeing the beast.

Tim merely scoffs, and like him, some of the other guys are unintimated by the hulking thing. Chris, resident badass of the group, actually laughs and walks closer to it.

"You pussies are seriously scared of this little puppy?" he asks, smirking, and Tim resists the urge to roll his eyes at Chris' show of bravado. The guy was always trying to one –up him, and quite frankly, it was irritating as fuck. Chris continues, and as a joke, tries to pat the dog on the head. The dog attacks him. Tim looks on, laughing again as the panicked Chris and several of the other guys try to beat it down.

"Good job, Evans," he mock-congratulates Chris, fixing him with a smug smile, and Chris glowers at him.

"You think you're so great Shepard, why don't you try getting near that stupid dog?" Chris spits out, clearly humiliated, and Tim finally notices the blood-stained part of the other greaser's pant leg, which just incenses his delight with the whole situation.

"Got you good, didn't he?" he asks instead with a wolfish grin, and Chris just flips him off this time.

Tim easily walks up to the dog, despite the worried looks and cries of his loyal cronies, and the dog still growls at him. He crouches to make eye contact with it.

"Angry little thing, aren't you?"

The dog barks at him threateningly, and he chuckles, making a move to touch it, and it snaps at his hand. Thankfully, Tim being the smart one with the quick reflexes moves his hand back just in time.

"Jesus, you don't waste any time, don't you," he mutters more to himself, as he continues his staring contest with the beast, and it stars right back at him.

And that's when he realizes. The thing is fucking scared of him. Of everyone there. He could see it in its panicked eyes. In its snappy behavior. The way it's actually shaking. Suddenly, Tim feels a twinge of pity for this animal, and he scowls at himself for having such sissy feelings, but he can't help it. The Rottweiler seemed…desperate. Violent, young, and desperate. Just like—Tim shakes his head, not allowing himself to finish the thought. Instead he speaks to the dog in a low voice.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he mutters to it, in the same voice he reserves for Curly or Angel when they're upset about something, and the dog almost seems like it's listening to him when it stops its growling for the first time. "So calm your mutt self down and don't bite me when I try to pet you. Or I'll really give you a reason to be scared."

And with that, he extends a hand to pat its head, and to everyone's surprise, even Tim's, the thing actually leans to the hood's touch and whines, tongue lolling now, and it rubs its head against Tim's legs when he takes his hand back.

"Attention whore," he calls it out in bemusement, but nonetheless he brings his hand back to give it a good rub on the ears, and the dog's tail thuds happily on the cemented ground.

"Well, woulda look at that!" Robbie says, a broad grin on his face, and even Kenny has peeked over from his hiding spot to pop his eyes out at the sight. "You did it, Tim!"

"Aw, is Tim enjoying his time with his doggie? Growing soft, Shepard," Chris teases, finally recovering from his shock at what just happened and Tim instantly retracts his hand again and stands up, glaring at Chris.

"It's not my fucking dog, and at least it didn't try to bite my leg off," he throws at him, defenses up at being called soft. "And I am not soft. You ever call me that again, and I'll rip you a new one."

Chris backs off at his words, acknowledging Tim as his superior, but he still leers at the curly-haired boy.

"Touchy. No wonder it likes you, you're both violent as fuck."

"Damn straight," Tim says, and he stretches, before hiding a yawn with his arm. "Well, now that's over with, let's beat feet, yeah? It's dead here."

There's a chorus of murmurs in agreement, and everyone starts on their separate ways home. Tim's one of the last to leave, being lazy and taking his sweet time. And why shouldn't he? The only things at home were the angsty teenagers he called siblings. Curly didn't hang around with the rest of the gang as much during the school year, as he liked to pester that Curtis kid around at school, and Angela was usually away mooshing faces with random guys at Buck's. He let out a sigh. They made up a dysfunctional family, but he'd be damned if he said he didn't care about them. Freaking kids. Tim's about to open the door to his car, when he hears a whine, and something brushes up against his legs. He looks down. It's the Rottweiler mutt, and the thing's staring up at him expectantly.

"What?" he asks, giving it a deadpan look. "What're you doing, still bumming it around here?"

It's still standing there, and Tim sighs, giving it a nudge with his boot as he gets into his car.

"Go on, get! Shoo!"

It merely barks, and sits there, tail wagging away, and Tim just shuts the car door on it, starting up the engine. As he pulls the Montclair away, the dog starts barking like crazy, on its feet now as Tim starts to drive away, and it even has the audacity to chase his car. Tim rolls down the window and pokes his head out to glare at it.

"Seriously? Get!" he yells at it, and the dog barks right back at him as it continues to tail his car.

It's not about to quit, Tim notices, as he warily checks his rearview mirror. He could see its face in the mirror, as it lets out a pitiful howl. Still violent, young, and desperate. Oh, fuck it all. The tires screech as he sharply turns his baby around, and the dog happily barks up a storm as he abruptly stops the car right in front of it and gets out of his seat. Tim is glowering at it, clearly very angry as he opens up the door to the shotgun seat and points.

"Well? Get the fuck in the car!" he yells at it, and it complies, jumping into the seat easily, and Tim slams the door shut and reclaims his own seat. The dog's wagging its tail damn off as he starts the car up again, and he gives it a tired look. "I hope you're happy, mutt. You better not get your Goddamn fur all over my seats."

It barks, and since no one's there with them, Tim manages a small smile.

"Annoying little bugger," he says fondly as he starts the journey home. He looks at the mutt again. "Say, you're going to need a name or something, right? I can't go on calling you 'dog' or 'mutt' all the time." After much contemplation, he decides on a name.

"Your name's going to be Winston, ai'ght?" he tells it. "No pussy names for you. Just Winston. Like the cigarettes."

And not after that idiotic guy that you kinda sorta remind me of. Well, ok, maybe him too. For his honor or some shit. Winston just barks at him again, and Tim snorts.

"You don't have any clue on what I'm saying, do you?" he says, before shaking his head, but he's laughing.

Kids were going to have a heart attack when he gets home.

A/N: You're all probably thinking, "Why the hell is she starting a new fic when she already has one up, OH MY GOD." Yeah, I've actually been asking myself the same thing. In my defense, this is probably only going to be like 3-5 chapters so it's cool~ I'm working on Misfits, I promise, but in light of myself having a Tim Shepard obsession phase, I think you guys can cut me some slack. ANYWAYS. Like it says on the tin, basically this is going to be about Tim and his stupidly cute Rottweiler Winston, and how Tim's still dealing with Dally dying and stuff, 'cause jeebus, the guy was his best friend. And, yeah, Pony's probably going to pop up because why the hell not. 'Til next time, ciao~