Author's Notes- Okay, I figured since i got a positive response from my reviewers so far, I'd write another chapter from Dallas's view. Enjoy!
Disclaimer- Again,I'm not S. E Hinton so I obviously don't own the characters portrayed here.
Angela Shepard opened the front door and stopped dead. Dallas Winston stood on the front stoop, smoking a cigarette, with his hand raised to knock on the door. "Tim's in his room." She stated curtly, brushing past him and leaving the door open in an unspoken invitation.
Dally blinked and shrugged,lowering his hand to his mouth and flicking the ash off his cigarette before he stepped inside. Curly was passed out cold on the couch, drooling slightly, an empty beer bottle dangling precariously from his left hand. Snorting slightly in amusement, Dally made his way upstairs to Tim's room. The cat-like teen was sprawled on his stomach, clad in only jeans and socks. Scars from various fights lined Tim's back, reminding Dally vaguely of a map of sorts. Approaching the bed as silently as possible, Dally sits next to Tim and begins tracing an angry looking scar. Tim had mentioned once getting in a fight and being stuck with a chain, so Dally figured this must be the scar left by it. Goosebumps rose on Tim's skin and the older hood shivered slightly as he awoke. "Hey."
"Hey."Tim replied, focusing sleep-blurred eyes on the blonde greaser."Cha doin' Dal?"
"Nothin'."Was the reply, before Dally leaned down and kissed Tim's shoulder, right on the end of the scar.
Tim smirks and rolls on his side,opening his arms."C'mere."
Dallas grins and flops down on the bed next to Tim, snuggling close to him. When their lips meet, Dally doesn't care about the world outside. All he cares about is the haven that is Tim Shepard.
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