Feather light kisses pressed on sweat slicked skin. Fingers digging into skin, dimples pressed into the flesh. Murmured words against a throat, each breath gasped between slick parted lips. Pleasure bubbling and popping over and over with moans muffled by sweat drenched strands of hair. The final wave of pleasure coming and going like an almost fully developed tide. Pleasure finally takes over both participants in a great surge, leaving both in a lull of ecstasy.

"I love you Ponyboy,"

"I love you too, Darry,"

Silence is broken and the thin membrane of sleep is stretched thinner and thinner, until green/grey eyes pop open. A small sigh escaped the lips of the young teen as he sits up in bed and wipes the sleep from his eyes. Holding on to the details of the dream, he gets up and heads to take a shower. Questions are running through his head at light speed, trying to make sense of what he had been dreaming about as of late.

It was almost always the same dream, every single time. Sure there were different endings, different places, even different times. Always the same person and the same feelings though. It wouldn't be that big of a problem if it was just some random guy or hell, even one of the gang. Anyone but Darry. Sure he is a big believer in love is love, don't question it if you are lucky enough to find it.

Walking into the kitchen however and seeing Darry, more specifically seeing Darry smile at him and offer him breakfast; makes him realize something. Darry is an angel and how could he ever want someone like him.

Someone that never uses his head, that is more interested in reading that living.

Why would an angel like Darry, ever want a mess of a dreamer?

~*~*~*~*~Authors note~*~*~*~*~

Random and a little sad? Yes.

But, idk, I'm in a bit of a melancholy mood and like idk.

I just don't feel like myself at the moment, like I'm a stranger in my own body.

-shrugs- Maybe a good night of sleep and a day out with my aunt tomorrow will make me feel better.

Well up goes this little story and off to bed I go, night my loves. If I'm feeling back to my old self tomorrow, I'll try and get another story up.

I don't own the outsiders or really the line "mess of a dreamer" That's from the song "Cold as you", by Taylor Swift