austin looks like he's waiting for the floor to swallow him up by the time they get to their father's building. he glances to dallas nervously, obviously wanting dallas to go in and tell him what happened — that they were technically successful, that no one died who didn't need to. the thing is, dallas doesn't want to go in there and look at his father's face, so obviously pleased with austin and never with him even when he does everything right, and has to clean up austin's messes.
he doesn't want to go there, doesn't want to be beneath those gilded ceilings and pearl like walls. he doesn't want to have to look at his mother — at her hovering behind their father, expression warm to austin and always avoiding his or absolutely stony when she has to focus on him. he normally doesn't care for any of it — he's always known where he's stood with them, and it's never been something he's wanted to change, having understood his place. but today?
today he is going to do something he hasn't done since he was a lot younger, stupider, and altogether worse: he's going to make austin go in alone. he glares at austin, biting the words out, "you know how this goes. you don't need me."
he takes in the slight bloodstain on the collar of austin's two thousand dollar suit, at the way he shifts nervously. "dal—"
he turns on his heel, abandons austin on the front steps. he's sure that he will say but what am i supposed to say? or what if dad asks about the deal?
austin can figure it out. he was old enough to, at this point. he was the one destined to take over, and for once, dallas isn't interested in being the one to correct any flaw he had, the ones that his parents refused to see or care about.
dallas wants something else: he wants a terrible little apartment in a not that great neighborhood. he wanted a warm meal on a cracked plate that went out like a clock, he wanted to pin ponyboy to the bed by those skinny hips of his and make him whine and moan, and in the morning, he wanted to wake up beside him, watching the sunrise make the gray streaks coming up in ponyboy's hair turn silver, and tease him about it when he came to.
it was better than a hotel that had a room all the way at the top with all the works, better than expensive linens or a grinning showgirl omega who smelled oversweet who wanted him to bed her more than anything. dallas isn't under any illusions of softness for his own life, he's well aware that he shouldn't, really, be in such a good relationship with an omega teacher who liked to ask him to help him grade papers or to pack lunches for bratty little pups or could talk dallas' ear off about a book he read. he knows that being with ponyboy is a risk to them both, that with all he's done in his life, he probably didn't deserve to have pony smile at him the way he did, with all that warmth and kindness.
and yet, he still wants him, still wants the feel of his sparse stubble on his cheeks, the way that southern drawl came out whenever he spoke, the feel of his hand in his hair when he's half asleep. he still makes a beeline for that shitty little apartment, checking his nails for blood as he strides through the streets, running his nails under to get the blood and dirt out. he makes sure that when he gets to the lobby, he nods to the doorman — the one he employed not too long ago — goes to the bathroom on the side and washes his hands as much as he can, to get the rest of the blood out as best as he can.
when he wipes his hands clean, he glances at himself in the mirror. his brown hair needed a bit of a cut, but there isn't any blood on his face, no scratches, no bruises. just those dark brows he's always had, the sharp fangs in his mouth, the expression in a half scowl. dallas doesn't linger; he goes to the elevator and hits the number for ponyboy's apartment floor. if austin has created a mess, if he's fucked up, dallas knows he won't hear about it until the next day maybe — if he's lucky, it would be two days later.
the elevator rattles, clangs as it goes. his nostrils flare because he can scent ponyboy here, fresh — and another alpha. they had been on the elevator together, not that long ago. it's not something he initially cares about, even if the scent is unfamiliar. it's an apartment in a busy neighborhood, and dallas knows this place like the back of his hand, considering he owns it.
the elevator doors part, though, and the scent is still there, incredibly fresh — and the carried voices make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, one of them clearly ponyboy's echoing down the hallway, "— does it matter, huh? i like it here! i don't want to go to some fancy school to teach—"
"you don't want to?" the alpha's voice carries almost thunderously through the hallways. dallas steps out of the elevator, footsteps heavy as he calls. no one else is in the hallway except them, at least. "ponyboy — hell are you thinking? that school offered you so much more money than the place you're at now." dallas turns the corner, and there's the view: a tall alpha, with dark sandy hair and a rippling figure of someone who regularly goes to work out. he's tall, imposing and he's in a dress shirt that seems pretty expensive for a guy who was still wearing worn workboots beneath it. he's clearly a guy who works with his hands, to say nothing of his physique — all of which was intimidating, standing more than a head taller than ponyboy in the hallway.
they're right outside of his door and the alpha seems exasperated and upset. dallas can see his profile, how tight his expression is.
too, he can see ponyboy: the way his face wrests itself into a frustrated expression, the way his hair curls around his ears, blue shirt halfway open to expose the white undershirt beneath, the st. christopher dallas had given him halfway obscured on the bottom. he's got his eyes on the alpha, but something's off.
dallas has seen him unintimidated by various alphas at the bar, he's wrestled pony himself — both of them fully knowing that dallas was stronger than him — and ponyboy hasn't been afraid, has never backed down. he's never been like other omegas around alphas, yet here, dallas can see it in his body the tension, the apprehension. "i like it here. i like living here, i like teaching my kids, this place is for me, i don't care how you feel about it." except his voice wavers at the end.
the alpha lets out a huff of frustration, ponyboy takes a step back and that's all dallas needs to finally close the distance with sure steps. that turns into full anger when the alpha — seemingly not noticing — says, "ponyboy, this place is a full on pigsty—"
the alpha's hand was reaching for ponyboy's shoulder. dallas grasps him by the wrist before he can, moving so he's in front of ponyboy, and he's shoving the alpha's hand away as harsh as he can. the alpha seems shocked and dallas snarls at him, "he already said that he likes the pigsty, hotshot. so why don't you leave him to it, you feel that fucking strong about it?"
dallas knows that he can't simply get away with that. the alpha's too big, his scent too strong, muscles too obvious and dallas knows that if the guy swings, it'll hurt.
he also knows he'd allow that one hit. it's all dallas needs. he knows exactly how he'd get the alpha on his knees, how hard it would be to get his body out—
"don't think we're acquainted enough, friend," the alpha bites out, "for you to be getting between us."
"oh, us? last i checked, wasn't an us involving you." dallas knows for damn sure this alpha has never been in this building before, he's never been in ponyboy's apartment. didn't ponyboy have some ex? some annoying guy with a dumb name, and if it's him, dallas knows even more, that he'll have fun getting his body into a series of—
the alpha snarls, and dallas gets ready to snarl back but then he feels ponyboy's hand on his elbow, pulling him back, voice panicked, "darry — darry quit it!" even if he says the name, dallas knows that warning is more for him. "dallas is my boyfriend."
and as he realizes the name, it's fair. darry: the big brother ponyboy spoke about sometimes, who always seemed to have given ponyboy a hard time, who pushed him to leave tulsa and do better for himself, who hit him once in his life and never again, who had a wife and pups and shouldn't be in new york but was here, and now, and giving ponyboy a hard time.
he wasn't an ex boyfriend — just an annoying older brother, confronting his brother in a hallway like an asshole.
now that? dallas could handle an annoying brother. annoying brothers couldn't be killed, but they could be dealt with even though dallas feels completely frustrated now. all he'd wanted to was to come here, kiss ponyboy, fall into ponyboy's nest with him for a few hours and forget about any and everything else. and instead… instead he has to let his temper go, breathe hard through his nostrils, put away thoughts of stuffing him piece by piece into a garbage bag away.
for his part, darry looks shocked, that gives way to confusion on his face. "your boyfriend? you — you ain't mention that. how the hell he ain't know that i'm your brother?"
dallas hopes that when his voice comes out in a steely tone, darry understands that he'd still be willing to snap his arm if it came down to it. "we been together since '79. ponyboy's talked about you, ain't ever seen a picture of you — and you ain't exactly twins." dallas doesn't give a grin — it's a baring of teeth, an opening stab against darry. ponyboy digs his nails into dallas' elbow and dallas steps back, stands down. for now.
"i told you about him," ponyboy moves forward then, in front of dallas. he's still tense, but his scent is nice, calming. dallas wants to just wrap an arm around him, bury his nose in his hair and neck, breathe in deep. "remember? i said we met at the bar."
the tension is so thick that dallas thinks he could slice it.
so it makes sense it's ponyboy who eases it, "c'mon, we ain't got to do this in the hallway."
dallas has been in mob negotiations that have ended in bloodshed that have felt warmer than this. it's still his bad temper coloring things — because ponyboy has done well. he's got them both in his apartment, he's kept with dallas on his side (arms brushing against each other, hip against his) and he's made it very clear that this is his place, and darry isn't going to rule him.
and yet, dallas is still pissed and annoyed, accepting the cup of cold water from ponyboy with a small quirk of his mouth that doesn't reach his eyes. ponyboy is a bit calmer now, eyes roving on dallas' face for a moment, assurance needed. once it's given with a nod from dallas, he gives a slight smile, turning to address darry, looking big and uncomfortable in his dress shirt, at ponyboy's rickety table. "you ain't say why you're here, darry."
"no, i haven't," darry frowns as he knicks ponyboy's table, "you got books keeping this up? christ almighty."
ponyboy shoots dallas an apologetic look. "i already said i like it here, darry. i ain't care if you think it's a little messy—"
"oh, i wish it was just messy," darry glances at the various books and clothes strewn everywhere. dallas keeps sipping his water, well aware of how many things in the apartment were his: one of his jacket's mingled with ponyboy's jeans thrown in a corner, ponyboy's books on the counter had a lighter that dallas had brought over and forgotten on top of it; they had various shoes lined up in one crooked line of the room together. "this place looks like you'll get mugged soon as you look at someone funny, and that's at best."
"like i ain't been mugged before—"
"he ain't a soft little omega—"
both dallas and ponyboy catch themselves at the same time, mid sentence. darry doesn't look assured in the least, and dallas allows pony to finish, lest he tell darry that the building is his and that he'd know if someone mugged ponyboy. "—like i said, i been mugged at home. i've done fine. it ain't as scary here as you think it is."
darry doesn't look happy, turning his mug in his hand. he looks, feels frustrated at ponyboy's table. he looks like he wants to say something more on the subject while ponyboy looks pleadingly with him. dallas doesn't quite get it: he knows from the things ponyboy has said, from the evidence of ponyboy's own body, the way ponyboy carries himself, he knows that he isn't a soft little omega, that tulsa was rough, too. ponyboy is tough, he's not someone dallas has ever had to consider a liability, unable to defend himself. the things he'd done to help him, to protect him were simply things that felt like they came with the very literal territory of involving himself with ponyboy. and one of the things that had attracted him to ponyboy was this, the way his voice carries, the firmness, the assuriety, "i know you ain't gonna like it but darry, i'm fine. i ain't a little kid no more."
"no, you sure as hell ain't," darry shoots ponyboy a look of resignation. "be easier to bring soda up here if your apartment was at least clean."
of the both of them, while dallas had a vague sense of who darry was as a person, it's not the same at the drop of soda's name. the image of soda instantly pops into his head: vibrant, cheerful, maybe not the smartest person — just caring, the only other omega ponyboy had grown up with and it makes all the sense in the world for ponyboy to light up the instant he realizes what darry has said. "soda— is he here? why? when were you gonna tell me! you should've said that first!"
"he ain't the only one," darry looks up, eyebrows quirking, "got his mates and pups here too. they're driving poor patty up the wall when they ain't making steve pissed off."
that makes ponyboy really look startled for a moment. "patty's here? wh- what for? what's going on that all of them are here?"
dallas, though, gets it. the fancy shirt. the fact that it was a few days into july, the amount of people. if it was an emergency, darry would have said. the fact that he's dancing around it confirms it, and dallas bluntly says, "kid, ain't your birthday in a couple of days? it's a party."
surprise spreads on ponyboy's face as the annoyance dallas has crests. so it looked like there was gonna be a whole night ahead of him where he'd have to share him with other people. the rest of him though, that's probably only there because of ponyboy, is curious and feeling a little good for him with the way his face splits into a smile. even if he complained about darry, there had been moments in bed where ponyboy had confided in him about the state of their pack, how after his packmate, johnny, had died, he'd always felt tenuous with them. that sometimes, moving to new york had maybe been an escape that put too much distance.
and now, his brothers were here with their wives and husband here to celebrate his birthday.
dallas has never felt jealous over this, never grieved birthday parties that weren't for him. he feels an inkling of it though when ponyboy looks at darry, who looks a bit annoyed that the surprise has been spoiled but confirms it, "we rented out a place. wanted to see if i could convince you to get dressed okay for the night — we got about an hour and a half to get— woah!"
ponyboy's hugging darry and dallas finishes off his water. an hour and a half was more than enough for him. "thanks dar i — shit, i gotta get dressed. what's the name of the place? dal's coming, too." he doesn't ask, he says it.
"spark's steakhouse," darry supplies, and dallas grins as he puts the cup in ponyboy's sink, able to see the dishes ponyboy should probably get to sooner rather than later. "you ever been?" ponyboy shakes his head. "well, go on, we gotta get you dressed."
dallas peels himself away from the counter. "c'mon, i'll help. i know you ain't that fast." knowing what he knows about darry from ponyboy, he knows that it's probably longer than an hour and a half. he's counting on ponyboy being slow, and dallas has an ace up his sleeve for that. he puts his hand on the middle of ponyboy's back. "i'll help him."
the look darry gives him is suspicious and dallas doesn't bother hiding his hand as he moves it past pony's lower back and to cup his ass as they move to the bedroom. ponyboy gives a halfway startled sound — and then dallas opens the door to his bedroom, slams it shut.
darry is an adult. he should have scented dallas when he got in the apartment and beyond that: ponyboy is an adult, too.
he doesn't push dallas away or snap at him when dallas full on shoves him to his bed — just has that momentary look he has sometimes where he remembers just what dallas tends to like in bed, where his brain has to catch up to the rest of things, and then he's grinning, dallas is crawling on the bed, finally, finally kissing ponyboy the way he's wanted to for more hours than he can count.
he normally would linger longer, wind ponyboy up, let him whine and all. they're on a time limit though, even if dallas can make it quick, hands moving to undo ponyboy's belt buckle, and unzip his jeans. ponyboy gasps in his mouth, his own hands moving to tug at dallas' belt. "no," dallas huffs out as quick as he can, breath warm against ponyboy's mouth, "don't need that."
"but—" they've had this fumble before, ponyboy's former boyfriends insisting all the time on complete reciprocation in bed.
not dallas, as he shoves ponyboy's jeans down, finally able to smell what he wants: slick. he can feel ponyboy finally get his own pants down, can feel his hand brushing against his hardon, that whine in his throat telling dallas that he wants to make him feel good too.
he gets it. he does.
just, well. he moves, kisses ponyboy hotly again, pushing ponyboy's hands away. distracts him long enough to hook his fingers in ponyboy's waistband, yank his boxers down — nails dragging against his skin unintentionally as he does it, making pony yelp in his mouth. "dal— fuck, wh-what are—"
finally he draws up. pony's panting, face flushed, expression confused. he looks so good like this, hand coming up to touch dallas ' cheek. "dal, you okay?"
dallas nuzzles into his hand, the scent of slick getting headier by the second. "just— don't worry about fucking me, pony. just," his hand strokes pony's hip, staring to pant, "just turn around. just wanna taste you."
ponyboy's ears go a bit pink. they've been together this long and he still does that and fuck dallas wishes they had more time for him to rut into ponyboy, nip at his ears until they really are red beneath him. "okay, okay," his hand runs through dallas' hair and he glances at the door.
carefully, ponyboy turns around, and dallas grips the jeans to pull them all way off. ponyboy kicks them off and dallas can truly smell the slick, can see some of it on the very top of pony's thighs. he's sure he's said it before, that pony has a lot for an omega and dal groans when he reaches down, spreads ponyboy's thighs. "dal y— fuck!" ponyboy has to shut up quick with how dallas simply can't do foreplay any longer, pressing the flat of his tongue against his skin, lapping from thigh to his hole, hands spreading pony's thighs and ass.
the taste is almost overwhelming; it's a good thing that ponyboy did undo his pants enough for that, his cock almost painfully hard now. there's a muffled moan coming from pony as dallas indulges himself, licking and lapping at every single drop of slick from pony's thighs right to his hole. pony tastes heady, not as sweet as other omegas can be, and dallas knows that he could simply get lost in this. could bury himself here, lapping at ponyboy for as long as he could.
the need increases, the want when he slips a thumb into pony's hole — tight and wet with slick, pressure just right on his tongue when he pushes inside. he's dimly aware of ponyboy's muffled sounds, his hips bucking back for more.
dallas thrusts his tongue, and then his forefinger joins in. there's so much slick that he's almost swallowing it whole, panting against ponyboy, ignoring his own needs. all he wants is this, the taste of it down his throat, ponyboy moaning for him.
prolonging it, making it go on longer is so tempting. dallas almost whines himself at the realization that he can't, that they're on a time table, that he can't just tease pony to completion, he can't rut inside of him. he swallows, moans and then he pushes a third finger inside of ponyboy—
— and ponyboy convulses, swears, there's a final gush of slick and ponyboy cums with it. he contracts almost too tightly on dallas' fingers, the sound muffled as he does it. he goes limp on the bed, shirt riding up almost to his shoulders, the imprint of dallas' hand red on his skin and clearly done.
dallas wants more. wants to mount him, fuck him and it takes so much willpower to pull back from ponyboy, from the intoxicating taste of his slick. he gives one more plunge into ponyboy with his fingers before pulling away, out from that tight heat. the light makes the slick glisten on his fingers, and his tongue wraps around his fingers to get the last of it.
he's still painfully hard, and groans out, as he moves to the bed fully. ponyboy isn't back to himself yet, eyes glazed, face flushed, hair a mess. he kisses dallas back on automatic when his hair is gripped and dallas doesn't let go until ponyboy is kissing with more conviction, until ponyboy breathes out, "love you." some slick glistens on his mouth, and it sends a thrilling feeling of arousal in dallas when his tongue darts out to lick it up. he wants to kiss ponyboy again, wring out those words, just do any and everything to keep him close.
there's the sound of a faucet from the kitchen, that reminds him that they can't.
he tugs at his hair, voice rough, "c'mon. need that shower." ponyboy gives a lopsided smile to him, and dallas is careful to help him get up. ponyboy wobbles, but leans close to dallas as they move to his shower to try and make it quick — even if he hisses at the reminder of his erection as they climb in.
by the time they get dressed, dallas is presentable — mostly because he's left a few shirts at ponyboy's. ponyboy is too fucked out to say or do much beyond letting dallas pick out a nice blue shirt for him that's actually more casual than it should be for steakhouse, getting it on him with a pair of pants that better suits. he makes sure the st. christopher is prominent, and ponyboy picks a black shirt for dallas he'd left months ago and frankly forgot about until ponyboy is getting him into it, buttoning him up in it with a grin.
they get out of the room in about half an hour, no cologne needed, both scenting each other. dallas rolls his eyes when ponyboy tucks a pulpy book in his back pocket like he's a teenager even though dallas is sure that he'll be busy as they walk out, "hey, darry! we're ready!"
darry's waiting for them, checking his watch. "c'mon, don't want to be late." he glances to them, as if he can't scent them on each other or didn't hear some of what was going on. dallas smirks at him and slaps ponyboy's ass just to make a point.
ponyboy swats at his hand, and dallas'll pay for it later.
they go out the door, and dallas notices that all the dishes in ponyboy's sink are done, stacked neatly on the side. he knows he'd never do that for austin. the door shuts behind them, and he wonders if darry knows what's in store at the steakhouse.