Happy Birthday Dallas Chapter 37
A/N: Sorry, this chapter is extremely short. I couldn't write anymore after the end of this.
Rated M for...I don't even know what. For perverse thought.
P.S. I know we're not supposed to respond to reviews here, but I'd just like to say that I take ALL serious reviews, er, seriously. :)
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"How the hell did I ever agree to this," Soda whispered sharply. Dally gave him a once over and smirked. Sandy was clinging to his arm like wet toilet paper, looking terrified every time anyone resembling a hood walked past. She'd even whimpered a little when Tim had slunk by, looking calmly dangerous with his detached, shark-like smile and piercing eyes. He'd been wearing his black leather jacket and dirty jeans, his eyes had been shadowed, his hair had been grease-less except for what came naturally and a dark stumble covered his cheeks. He hadn't even said hello to Dallas on his way out.
"Leave if you're so damn miserable," Dally said loudly, catching Sandy's eye.
"You can't leave," Sylvia squealed. "Who will I talk to?" She pouted at Dallas. "Be nice."
Dally shrugged. With one hand tangled in his hair and the other scraping long nails across his thigh an inch from his dick, Sylvia was calling the shots. He didn't mind. "Whatever you want, baby," he said lazily and slid the tips of his fingers into the waistband of her skirt. She gave him a warning look, but made no move to pull out his hand.
Dally squirmed a little and tugged on his jeans. They felt unnaturally tight, and got a little bit smaller every time Sylvia rubbed his leg. Sylvia was dressed decently enough, her skirt to her knees and her sweater coming up to her neck. But the second Dally had come into Buck's she'd slid onto his knee, and that skirt had ridden up high enough for him to see the lacy edges of her stockings. He'd told himself he'd wait two hours before dragging her to the bedroom; with twenty minutes left on the clock, he was getting restless.
"You can talk to your boyfriend," Sandy announced suddenly. "I want to get out of here and talk to mine." She gave Soda a pleading look. "Can't we just go out for dinner like planned?"
Soda gave her a helpless look. "This wasn't my idea, really." He aimed a glare at Steve who was as wrapped up in his girl as Dallas had ever seen him. "Someone confused me."
"Wasn't too hard," Two-Bit said cheerfully. "You're a natural confused, Curtis." He was dateless again. Dallas couldn't see how he put up with a broad who didn't show up half the time, but then again, Two-Bit wasn't exactly Mr. Reliable himself. He'd been giving Angela Shepard the eye again and had cracked one dirty joke after the next until she'd stumbled from the room. Dallas had seen her drink before, in tiny lady-like sips, but she was hammered tonight. He wondered what it was about life that made the people he spent time with seem to drink so much more.
"You leave my sister alone!"
Dally closed his eyes. Right on cue, Curly Shepard stomped in, red in the face and looking for all the world like a five-year-old brat about to hold his breath. Dally pulled Sylvia close, and leaned over to whisper in her ear.
"You wanna get outta here?"
Sylvia smiled, in that sly, knowing way she had that was growing on him more every day. "It's only been an hour and forty-five. You couldn't make it to two?"
Dally started. He hadn't told her about his time-limit.
"I ain't hitting on your sister," Two-Bit was protesting.
"That ain't what she told me!"
"She's drunk," Steve said, coming up for air momentarily. "You oughtta keep a better watch on your sister Curly. She's headed for trouble all by herself without getting involved with Two-Bit."
Curly swelled like a ripe peach, but he didn't have a chance to respond.
"Your sister ain't the only one in your family who's hitting the booze hard lately." Dally looked over at the boy who spoke. He had reddish brown hair and a stocky build and he might have been good-looking but for the longish, hooked nose sitting crookedly on his face. He was as red as Curly.
Dally rolled his eyes. Kiddie fights didn't interest him. He slipped his other hand up Sylvia's back and made for her bra clasp.
"Dallas!" she squealed. He winced. He still couldn't stand that fake girlishness that popped up whenever she felt comfortable.
"Don't get prissy," he growled. "You don't go with me for the romance of it, and you know it."
She smiled again, all sass. "I know what you're here for, and if I want to keep you around longer I ain't gonna give up what you want so easily...Winston," she said sweetly. She sized him up with her cool gray eyes. "I can read you like a map."
He watched her, amused. She was confident, cool as a cucumber around him when she should have every reason to be scared. She reminded him of Tim in that respect. But, unlike Tim, he could dominate her easily if he wanted. Unlike Tim, that's exactly what she wanted.
"Winston? I thought you were friendlier than that," he murmured. He hooked a finger around her bra strap. "Thought you were nice."
She twisted her fingers gently in his hair. "I can be real friendly, Dallas. I can be real nice." She clasped her fingers tight, pulling the hair almost from his head. "But, that's not what you want, is it, baby?"
There was a yell. Curly had swung at the hooked-nose boy. Dally flicked his eyes in their direction. Two-Bit had the stranger in his grasp, someone he didn't recognize held Curly.
"You take it back!" Curly yelled, struggling.
Behind him, Steve was shirtless. Evie may as well have been for all the buttons Steve had undone. Dally unhooked Sylvia's bra.
She slapped him. Hard. "I ain't no tramp," she said, her voice low. Her other hand was still gripping his hair.
He would have slapped her right back but the offending hand was back on his thigh, slid up as far as it would go. He opened his mouth and she closed it for him with hers.
"You take it back, Pinter!"
His heart was going full speed. Sylvia slid one sharp-nailed finger up an inch and hit home.
"I won't. Your brother's been fucking up for a week and I ain't gonna stand for this shit no more. You ask me, he's been spending too much time with the wrong boys."
Dally's heart pounded in his chest. He'd sat through police interrogations on more than one occasion, and no amount of fists or nightsticks had been able to make him lose his cool then. Sylvia had him thrashing with the tip of one finger. He opened his eyes and looked past the halo of her hair to where this "Pinter" was standing, eyes blazing and fists at his side.
"Showing up drunk, with no plans except one that relies on Winston. What the fuck is your brother doing?"
What had Tim been saying? Who the hell was this kid anyway? Sylvia's tongue was suddenly in his mouth. She slid his hand around under her shirt and clasped it to her breast under her bra and Dally's heart threatened to give out.
"He's doing what he always does-"
"I bet I know what your brother's doing," Pinter sneered. "I bet I know who he's doing."
Pinter whipped around and met his eyes and Dally's heart stopped for real.
"That ain't none of your business!" Curly screamed, and from the look in Pinter's eyes it was the wrong thing to say.
"Shut up, you idiot," Two-Bit said in a hushed tone laced with terror.
"It's not true," Sandy sobbed. "I made it up..."
"No, it's my fault, and I swear it ain't true." Sodapop was struggling to stand up beside him, shaking his shoulder violently.
Sylvia was oblivious on his lap. She'd been worming a hand through his zipper. Dally's head spun. He fought for air around her mouth and got none.
"It ain't true, huh?" Pinter sneered. "Should I ask the only person here who knows for sure?"
Sylvia gasped and straddled him suddenly, wrapping both legs around his waist. Dally groaned and picked her up, stumbling out the door with all eyes on him. He pulled up her skirt in the darkened hallway, and slammed into the bathroom on the other side. He left the door open a crack while he fucked her, knowing they could still hear him.
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A/N: This'll probably be my last post for awhile (like a week-ish) because I need to clear my head from this scrambled, angsty plot. Yeesh. I hope it gets a little happier a bit later, but... heh, I'm not optimistic.