Um... It's slash, the characters aren't mine, they're SE Hintons. (I just got her new book for my birthday, btw. I don't really like it as well as the outsider, actually, but oh well) and I think that's all I have to say.
CHAPTER 2
Dally didn't see Johnny for the next few days, only a few glimpses—the time it took from when Dally came to the time when Johnny could get himself away from him. The younger greaser met his eyes only once, and even then it was an accident. Still scared. He didn't look angry though—course, the greaser only saw the kid's face for a couple of seconds, before Johnny jerked his eyes away, jumping up and out the door faster than Dally had known he could move. But still, he hadn't looked mad, just a little confused and a lot anxious.
It was frustrating, and the other members of the gang where starting to give Dally weird looks. Pony had cornered him the day before, looking angry and started to ask, but broke off the question at Dally's venomous glare. No one really wanted to be the one who got their head bashed in when they asked about it, but they all wondered, silently, staring at him when they thought he wouldn't notice.
And he still hadn't gotten a chance to say anything to Johnny. He wasn't sure what he'd say, probably something along the lines of, 'okay, you don't want it, forget it happened and you say anything to anyone and you'll end up with your nose smeared halfway across your face' But he didn't know if he could threaten Johnny that way. He'd already terrified the poor kid. He wanted to say something, though. Anything, really.
Keep him from telling anyone what Dally'd done, mostly. And maybe a few other reasons he didn't usually admit unless he was drunk. The little ones that said he'd come around and let Dallas kiss him again, just maybe.
And then, finally, Dally showed up at the Winston's and it was just Johnny, curled up on the couch in front of the TV, staring off at a patch of the dingy carpeting instead of the dancing cartoon characters on the screen. He heard Dally bang the screen door as he came in, lifting his head for a moment. He looked about to run, then slumped back onto the couch cushions with a defeated sigh.
"Hey Dally," he said, tiredly.
"Hey, Johnny." The other greaser replied, slouching into a threadbare armchair next to the couch, only a cigarette butt strewn end table between them. None of the Curtis's smoked much anymore, and he frowned, puzzled, until he saw the lit cigarette between Johnny's fingers. Damn, he must have smoked over a pack already, and it wasn't lunchtime yet. He hadn't known Johnny smoked that much. "Haven't seen you much lately."
The boy shrugged, inspecting another piece of the carpet.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Dally trying the figure out what he was going to say, Johnny continuing his scrutiny of the floor, tilting his head down a bit more until he was mostly hiding behind that greasy black hair.
Dally shifted in the chair, gazing up at the ceiling, opening his mouth and then shutting it again. "I was drunk, you know," he said, finally, tearing his eyes away from the spider meandering across the ceiling and focusing on Johnny.
The boy nodded. "I know." Dally could barely hear his voice, it was so soft.
"So..." he breathed out, "We can just forget..."
Johnny was nodding. "Yeah," he replied, "Yeah, let's just...."
That's what he'd wanted him to say, Dally reminded himself. Just forget it happened.
"Yeah," he repeated heavily. "Forget it."
They sat in silence, watching cartoons until Pony came back and Dally left, feeling disappointed but not admitting why.