Author's Note: I've never done slash before--I really don't want to ever again--but this is kind of a personel challenge for me, just to see if I can do it. As always, there will be no lemon. Not out of some crazy religious belief (oh, the controversy), but more as I'm fourteen and I really wouldn't know what to do with the words. (He...errr...put his ding dong in his doody-maker??) This is more like an introduction to a possible slash relationship. Eh? Good transition into the genre, I think.

That is a looong author's note. Let's get started, shall we?

"I don't know what to think of you,

my little possible..."

The sun set over Tulsa, and all was silent.

Dallas Winston leaned against the old Ford he'd borrowed from Tim Shepard, smoking the remains of an abused and barely lit cigerette. Beside him, Johnny Cade struggled with a match against a fresh smoke, the light wind blowing past diminishing every spark.

Dallas watched with a rare flash of amusment, "How you doin' there, Johnnycake?"

Cigerette between his teeth, Johnny grimaced. "Shut up, Dally."

Chuckling, he took the matchbook from Johnny and slid it across the side, lighting a steady flame and leaning it over the end of the cigarette. He shook it out.

Blowing a ring of smoke, Johnny smiled. "Thanks."

They watched the sun duck below the shabby homes and browning trees, light casting shadows over backyards. A dog barked somewhere to the left, and the two boys could hear the far off whistle of a train.

This was a rarity; the two together, by themselves, neither saying a word. The sound of their breathing was all that could be heard.

"You know what, Johnny?" Dallas asked, quietly, as though unsure of his own voice. "You could get outta here if you wanted to."

Johnny raised his eyebrow, and shifted on his heels. "What?"

"You and Pony," he said, twitching his wrist at the town below them. "You and him could go places. Get the hell outta here."

Craning his neck, Johnny looked at Dally sideways. "What makes you say that?"

Dallas gave up on the weed, tossing it into the grass and stomping it with the heel of his boot, "You guys, you're smart. You got the brains and all that. Smart."

"Your smart too, Dally," Johnny said, leaned against the hood of the car, handing Dally another weed.

He shook his head. "Not smart enough for any of that, kid. You can't get around with my kind of smart. No body cares about that shit. All they care about is what's on paper, and my paper ain't lookin' too hot."

Johnny silently disagreed, taking another drag. "Yeah, well, what do they know?"

Dally looked down at Johnny, towering over the younger boy like a skyscraper. Johnny's dark hair covered his equally dark eyes, obscuring his line of vision like a veil.

Johnny was not wearing his denim jacket, only a ratty t-shirt, and the wind sent shivers down his arms. Dally took off his own jacket and handed it to him.

"You're smart, Dally," Johnny said again, sliding his arms in the sleeves, "real smart. Smarter then you let on."

It was getting dark, and shadows spread out wider and wider until the entire ground was covered with them. Dally grimaced, leaning up from the side of the car and opening the door. "Yeah, yeah."

Johnny watched him slide the key into the ignition. His eyes--icy, piercing--sparked a moment of warmth.

Looking out the window, he knocked at it, "You gettin' in, or what?"

Johnny looked away hurriedly and slid into the passenger's seat. They drove off.

Updated Author's Note: Wrote this two years ago. Finally getting around to posting it. Rather pointless. Not very slashy, either. Thanks to whatcoloristhesky for mad beta skills.