they don't talk much until they're further away from the road. dallas keeps a tight grip on ponyboy's hand, the bag on his shoulder. ponyboy keeps the shotgun close, and when they find a creek, they both sit down. they're sweaty, the sun is due to sink soon and the buzzing feeling in dallas' head has calmed down.
it's easier to focus on ponyboy, to check him over by the creek. he's not bad off, just seems grimy, tired, and on and off crying. it's eerily like the night they fled tulsa, when ponyboy had cried on and off in the train car until he'd fallen asleep on dallas' shoulder. dallas runs his fingers over his cheek, tongue lapping at pony's tears the same way he'd done when they had gotten off the train, before they'd gotten to jay mountain.
except it's different. he'd hardly known ponyboy then, running on instinct and adrenaline. now? ponyboy is his mate. he's his priority, murmuring softly as he does it, keyed into ponyboy's panic, his feeling of unsafety.
their lips meet every so often, not bruising or nipping, until ponyboy shudders out, "she's— she's calving alone." his voice thins out, wavers. "dal — she's…"
"she's calved on her own before, pony," dallas rebuffs him, even though they both know that's not the real issue at hand. how many cows have calved on their own, how many had they simply come around the barn to one of the heifers, blinking, with babies that needed help to suckle or suckled on their own?
and still. still, ponyboy gulps some air, more tears streaming down his already dirty face. "she— you said she might have triplets. we— we need to go back, we have to go home." his voice wavers, cracks. dallas hates the way it does, that ponyboy says what they both really mean in that moment.
the rage in him that's always just boiling there is threatening to overwhelm him. the house they'd lived in for decades now, the animals they had, the business, the money, all of it. everything was there, and even if dallas had never cared about the material, even if, in the end, he could rebuild as long as he had ponyboy, it's still enraging. he still bares his teeth, feels the anger run hotly through him as ponyboy starts to break down more.
he holds ponyboy up, and his hands dig into his side, voice rough, "pony, we can't. we have to find a way out of here." even as he says it, dallas' mind webs out with the question of how. they had no money, no real supplies. they'd shot out the tires and that meant they'd be looking for reinforcements soon. "we need to think, we can't—"
"i know, i know," ponyboy is taking gasps of air as much as he can, the panic too real for him in this moment and dallas has to decide what to do: try and talk or to try and ride it out. usually it's a much easier choice, less life and death on the line, less need to adhere to time. he wants to give ponyboy the time — but the sun is going to set soon, they were miles out, and the thought of having to outsmart a hound only makes it worse to try and think through the spike of rage, of ponyboy's upset scent.
so he does the best he can, pulling ponyboy back up to his feet, tugging him along the creek. ponyboy stumbles, and as much as he can, dallas rubs his back, tucks ponyboy into his neck, all the while he tries to reason with himself.
it's been years since they've had to really run. they got complacent, content, and dallas feels uncomfortably like he's seventeen again as they trudge through. except they're not on a train going miles a minute, they're on foot. he's gonna ache soon, unable to keep running on a spike of adrenaline and pony will too.
the thing is though, no matter what he considers: they need money. they had a good two hundred dollars from buck when they fled together to jay mountain, the luck of the pot back then. after that they'd stolen but they were kids then, running from cops not armed feds. they were adults now, and he knew better than to think they could make it on what they had.
money is what they need most, could carry them better than anything.
it's not until they've gone almost a mile that dallas can feel ponyboy start to breathe easier, can feel him start to calm down. his mind is still focused on what to do next when ponyboy murmurs out, "where — where are we going?"
"dunno," dallas admits, glancing down. pony's stopped crying, just wiping at his face now. there's a bit of fear in dallas that ponyboy's going to go to that strange place he does sometimes, where reaching him is hard, where he seems to not be in his own body anymore. "we can't run without supplies, kid, and neither of us packed much. how much was in that glove compartment?"
for the first time, ponyboy squirms from under dallas' grip. they both stand on the grass, and ponyboy counts out the money, frowning. "fifty-five bucks. it's from what we paid him, i remember the bills — looks like he spent most of it."
"kid was too stupid to make that salesman pay him up front, huh," dallas could spit nails. he goes through the inventory of what they do and don't have, and once again, the money is the biggest problem. he rubs at his face, and ponyboy shakes his head.
there wasn't anyone dead, here, and yet it felt worse than tulsa and jay mountain. "we need the money at the house," he says, keeping his voice even, resolute. "that's more than enough to get us out of here, see if we can head to the border south of here if we can." that's where people usually escaped to; it was where some of the farm hands they'd hired under the table over the years had said they were going to or coming from.
"and get it how?" ponyboy says, opening up the thermos in the bag. he takes a swig of it, passing it to dallas as soon as he's done. at least he hadn't offered first; dallas would have snapped at him if he dared. "even if they get some back up, they'd stay at the house, look out for us." ponyboy watches dallas closely — the water goes down cold, sharp and it helps clear dallas' head a little. he can see the gears in ponyboy's head turning, though, slowly. he looks a bit more present, and dallas is grateful for that. "dal — ain't joshua say he was on the edge of town? not in it?" his eyes flick to the horizon, brow furrowing. "staying somewhere near here — we passed it once. we could ask him to get it for us."
wiping at his mouth, dallas offers the thermos back, trying to weigh the options. it wasn't as if they had many, at all. the fact that they might have dogs coming out to look for them soon made him nervous too, trying to think ahead. they'd have to find joshua's place, ask him for him. he'd have to approach find a way in and out—
"he calve before?" dallas asks.
ponyboy nods, and the decision is made. dallas offers his hand to ponyboy, and ponyboy takes it. the medallion glints in the sun and dallas asks, "you remember what direction he'd be in?"
the sun is low in the sky by the time they finally get to the hill over looking joshua's place. they're both sweaty, hot, a little irritable after having to retrace and overlap some steps enough to confuse the potential dogs that could be hunting them soon. ponyboy hasn't cried since the creek, and dallas looks down at the house where joshua's been staying.
it's a shotgun house if dallas has ever seen one: flat, a little ugly, narrow, and the sides whitewashed. the lights are on inside, and as far as he can scent — even though he was a bit too far off — joshua was the only one there. there are trees on other side before, and it looks as if anyone who wanted to come down the road, they'd have a tough time of it.
he was the only person they could trust, now.
dallas wants to tell ponyboy to stay at the edge of the trees, and ponyboy shakes his head as soon as he looks at him to suggest it, and tugs dallas down the hill. dallas follows, instincts telling him otherwise despite it all. carefully, they make their way not to the front of the house but the back door. dallas can scent joshua by himself, at least, and the smell of smoke, of something cooking. his stomach rumbles with the recognition of meat, of food.
he ignores it, overtakes ponyboy to knock on the door. there's a scrape of feet, "who's there?"
"it's dallas," he tenses up as there's the sound of feet quickening.
then the door opens — joshua looks shocked to see them, the light from inside bathing him warmly. he scents not like fresh soap or any evidence of hiding his scent — just normal farm ones, mixed a bit with the town and a normal, subdued one of a beta. "dallas? what are you doing here?"
"it's a long story, kid," dallas glances inside and back at joshua. "me and ponyboy — we need a favor. a big one. but i ain't coming in unless you can take us, don't want you mixed up in this if you can't take it." it only seems like the fair thing to do, warning him before he did anything rash.
ponyboy finally steps out, before dallas wants him to, nodding beside him. "and if you can't — we just—"
"no," joshua opens the door wider, without hesitation. "you guys did a lot for me, of course i'll help. not like i got the cleanest hands, anyway." he waves them in. "if, aunt dorothy-rae could trust you, i can, too."
for the first time in hours, dallas feels relief. he steps in, ponyboy following. a wave of exhaustion hits him, putting down the bag, watching as ponyboy sets down the shotgun himself. the place is simple as most shotgun houses are: a simple bed, a simple kitchen, a simple everything. there's a pork chop frying on the pan, much longer than dallas ever would have let it.
"you can explain while i get some food cooking," joshua opens the fridge, pulling out more cold cuts. "i only woke up a few minutes ago after this morning."
"can i use a washroom?" ponyboy asks. joshua points it to him and ponyboy goes, the door shutting behind him.
dallas watches him intently, saying, "you really been asleep for that long?" he's not like most people, and he waits for any sign of a lie on him — a change in scent, a tick of his face. something.
there's nothing there except frankness. "you might be used to all those chores, but i'm not," joshua points out, tossing the pork chops in flour and seasoning, shaking them quick. "i had a run in with franklin," the name sets dallas' teeth and nerves right on edge, "and he can tell you that. so what is going on?"
"franklin's the fucking problem," the anger that dallas has hardly kept a lid on snaps out then, "you know he was still talking to that salesman?"
"i did," joshua speaks cautiously now, "what that have to do with anything?"
the bathroom is small, and that's what ponyboy needs as he closes the door. he leans against the door, shuts his eyes, and tries to not let himself give into another fit, to not let himself cry again.
except that's all he's felt like doing, it's what he's been doing on and off for hours. even as dallas had gripped his hand, pulled him away into the woods, ponyboy hates it. hates that he keeps thinking of the heifer, that he keeps thinking of the woman mentioning soda to him, and now his mind was twisted up, wondering.
he can hear dallas and joshua talking, and he's thinking of soda, thinking of how old he'd be now — he'd be thirty-five, the same age as dallas. he had at least one pup now; did he marry sandy the way he promised? were they still together? how old was their pup, what kind of pup were they? did they present? were they all living together? what did darry think?
the questions are making his head swim. they're making his stomach curdle, and ponyboy hates it, hates that the past is finally trying to catch up so fast after all this time. that it's like this, that they had to abandon everything they had together.
because that's what it was. the instant they had looked at each other, the instant they had run off the road and his fingers had wrapped around the money in franklin's glove compartment, that was what they had to do now. they had to run away, they couldn't come back.
with trembling hands, he reaches over, runs the water in the sink. he thinks for a moment he can scent chlorine after all these years — feel the hands of johnny, of the other boys shoving him forward into the sink, hearing him say give the dirty omega a bath and ponyboy sticks his fingers beneath the stream.
it's so cold that it makes his skin on his shoulder tingle. the cold water makes him concentrate better, pulls him from the chlorine, the fountain until he's able to splash his face off with the water. he does it over and over again until he's gasping, until he hears the door open and dallas is suddenly behind him, reaching over to turn it off.
ponyboy looks up, swallowing at their reflection: dallas' face serious, still a bit dirty from the farm and the trek, hand pulling away from the faucet. his red flannel has the sleeves rolled up, his white shirt beneath streaked with dirt. his hair is shorter than it was a teen, but not quite business short like the way other men kept it. the scar on his cheek from the bull is raised on his face, not as vivid as it was back in 1966 — it's just paler, as if it had been on his face the entire time.
and ponyboy… ponyboy's hair is curled against his neck, greasy. it's not short, not like that beatles cut. he's in oil and dirt stained clothes, with a famer's tan, a mating mark on his neck same as dallas.
he looks nothing, absolutely nothing like the fourteen year old kid who'd run into the night with dallas decades ago.
"you done, pone?" dallas asks, voice low. his scent is calming, and he looks at ponyboy's reflection, both of them making eye contact. "i told joshua what happened."
it's a check-in, as much as they can allow. it's affirmed when dallas wraps a hand around his waist, strokes his side, finding a patch of skin beneath his shirt. he wants to just fall into the calm scent dallas has, that no other alpha has made him feel, ever. he wants to turn, bury his head into his neck and stay there. wants to find a way to convince him to run back home, to stay. to be with the heifer at least, to have something, anything that meant they could stay and not have to do this again.
and ponyboy… ponyboy knows that they can't. he can't.
this is as good as ponyboy knows it'll get, that they'll have to run and that's it. and that… they weren't going to leave. they'd made that promise in the bed at buck's, with johnny's blood on his cheeks and on dallas' hands. they'd made it again in the church on jay mountain, when they mated together for the first time, the light from the hole in the church roof falling on dallas as he was knotted for the first time. and again, they'd made it when they got to dorothy-rae's together, and had decided that it was where they could stay, for the rest of their lives.
in all these years, they've never stopped loving each other. and as overwhelmed, as scared as he felt, that hadn't changed. wouldn't.
he nods, reaching down to grasp dallas' hand, squeezing it in his own. "yeah, i'm done." dallas relaxes a little, and when ponyboy lets go, turns, dallas pulls him in for a brief, bruising kiss that he needs. the temptation to just fold into dallas, to teeter over the edge, still nips at him as he pulls away with the scent from dallas, the comfort of the press of his body.
then, they pull apart, and ponyboy squeezes his hand, voice low, "did you ask about the calving?"
"no," dallas nuzzles against him, his skin cool, nice against his. "thought i'd leave it to you." he presses another kiss to ponyboy's cheek. "i'll clean up, okay?"
"okay," he gives one last tuck against dallas' neck, breathes in, and then moves around dallas. he shuts the door behind him, and it takes a moment to focus on joshua, on the food he's making. "i can help with that, if you want. shouldn't have to be inconvenienced cause of us."
"you don't have to, but i think you can cook better than he can," they both grin at each other, and ponyboy comes to help overturn the pork chops, to peer at the green beans that joshua has on. his mind still isn't quite right, and it takes a moment for ponyboy to clear his throat. "dallas told you everything, right?"
joshua nods, frowning as he goes about opening the cabinets. "he ain't tell me why they're after y'all, exactly."
"better if you don't know," it's too hard to explain, too much to dig up. "we just need to get out of here, soon as possible. it's just that we ain't have enough money to run, not on our own. you have any drinks?"
"some lemonade," joshua waves him off, going to the fridge. "didn't find any beer i liked. i guess you didn't come to me to borrow what you paid me?"
"no," he keeps his voice firm, "it's… we came to ask if you could get it for us. you've been in the kitchen — there's a bunch of coffee tins up there, they've got a couple thousand dollars." there's surprise on joshua's face, almost dropping his fork into the pan with the pork chops. he fishes them out as ponyboy continues, "we just… we need you to get them, bring it back to us. and then we're gone. we'll even give you some of it for your troubles. and i think there's a way to get you in there — you remember the heifer? the white one?"
instantly, joshua perks up. the heifer's always liked his steady hand, always enjoyed him. "she's calving? already?"
ponyboy nods as dallas comes out the bathroom, clean and looking a little steadier. "she started when we left — she might be having twins. i don't… i don't know if she's done now or not. but i was thinking you could—"
a hand is raised and joshua has a look of confidence that ponyboy has seen on him before when offered a task he understands. "i get it. go up there, pretend you already arranged for me to come like you've done before." a slight grin splits his face. "i think i can do it — eat real quick, get out of here." he glances towards dallas, who's setting the table as quick as he can, something that's endearing and heart rending at the same time, ponyboy wondering when they'd be able to do this again. "i can do it, michael. can count on me."
and fuck, it hurts. that joshua — who they hadn't even asked questions for when he came in, simply accepted him in as he was — was going to have to do this. to lay on the line for them both.
it's a struggle to keep himself calm enough to finish helping with the cooking, the food. the meal is quicker than it should be, but the food is good. dallas doesn't complain about the lemonade, apparently just content to drink something that wasn't coffee. it's not until they're all done, joshua hurrying about for other things that ponyboy thinks to ask, "hey — you got anything from that salesman left?"
"i got his card, some fancy brochure he had," joshua says from the middle of the house, and dallas looks at ponyboy curiously. it's all but known at that point to them that the salesman had said something, known something. "it's in the drawer, next to the table." ponyboy nods, and joshua emerges in his workboots, shirt, overalls. he looks so young in that moment — he's barely twenty years old.
and ponyboy was sending him off to do something so damn dangerous.
it's dallas who looks over him sharply, nods. "if you ain't back in two hours, or we don't hear, we'll be gone no matter what."
the serious set to joshua's face hardens and he nods. "i'll see you both. just keep the lights off, in case someone gets curious. candles are in the same drawer as the brochure." dallas nods back, and ponyboy waves goodbye — joshua turns the lights off, and ponyboy fishes out the lighter from the bag, flicking it open as the darkness descends. there's only the quiet sound of dallas' careful movements, and then the sound of joshua starting his car. the headlights pass through the windows, throwing light onto them both in the briefest of moments, and then he's gone.
before he can think otherwise, ponyboy is moving to the drawer with the lighter. he holds it over him as he pulls out the candles, dallas having the same thought, pulling the mugs they'd drank out of, rinsing them and sticking candles in them until there's decent enough light for ponyboy to see the drawer better.
all he wants to do is understand. how did they know. how did they find them?
"hell is this," dallas mutters as he pulls out the glossy paper, finding it first beneath menus and magazines. the brochure is fancy, even in the poor light. he and dallas both peer at it, at the smiling men with the equipment, the various descriptions of what they offered, the breathlessly annoying wording. "looks like it's for a country club."
"i know," ponyboy complains, turning it over. it declares that it's part of holden international, and something about it bugs him. he flips through, finding the business card: greg goodwin. the name is generic, but the number to call him on, ponyboy recognizes the area code for tulsa, making it all the more confusing and maddening.
there's a sound of frustration from him as he hands it over to dallas. "who the hell is he? i can't make heads nor tails, dal."
evidently, however, dallas does seem to realize something. the recognition of something in his face is instant to ponyboy, the way his mouth draws into an annoyed line, the way his brows work down. "pony… you ain't remember? your older brother, darry. ain't he marry a paul holden?"
and that's all it takes, the mention of paul. it's been so long since ponyboy has ever thought of him, the boy who was just as cold as darry could be sometimes, except he'd never seen an ounce of warmth from him. the memories are murky — he frowns, trying to catch up for a moment. "i… he did? i remember… i know they were set to before our parents died."
the look on dallas' face is pissed, the shadows from the light making him look more hostile and yet animated than ever. "they married, couple weeks after. i remember, bunch of soc kids were celebrating. you weren't there, they didn't do it real traditional." the scowl on his face is so hostile that ponyboy both wants to see more of those sharp fangs in dallas' mouth and to take the card an brochure away, lest either erupt into flames from the hatred on his face. he glances over at ponyboy, expression softening only minimally. "kid, you didn't leave your house most of that winter, ain't surprised you don't remember."
and if anyone would know better, it would be dallas. those months after his parents died were murky, unsure. he spent more time in his room than anything, and only real concrete memories were after his fourteenth birthday, well beyond january, when his parents died.
"his parents had a company, and he had his own business," the words are hesitant, slow. everything feels distant, ponyboy frowning in the attempt to recall. "i remember… he tried hard to talk to me after everything. but i just… i wasn't there." ponyboy shrugs, vaguely recalling a few events, how paul hadn't even seemed to try kind or appealing. "that still doesn't explain how he knew it was me."
the brochure is pushed into the drawer roughly. ponyboy pulls back, and puts the lighter away. there's an old loveseat, and dallas sits in it, ponyboy following easily into his lap. it's not their home, and yet ponyboy feels calmer to be in his lap, to finally have a way to relax against dallas. dallas' arm winds its way around his waist, and ponyboy finally buries his nose in his neck, mind racing.
there were too many possibilities all at once. too many things to consider, to know what was the tip off, to understand what had gone wrong, and what could be done.
and the only thing he can do now, is breathe in dallas' scent. to let dallas hold him closer, and wait to hear something, anything from joshua. dallas' hand rubs against his side, and ponyboy pulls dallas closer to him, too. he buries his nose against his neck, and breathes in.
questions whirl in his mind about how this could happen, what they could do. he knows dallas has the same questions, same fears and talking about it feels pointless. what mattered most in the world, were two things at the moment: the time and dallas' body against his.
"go on," dallas' voice is low, the stroke of his hand on his back hypnotic. "i'll keep the time."
before ponyboy can protest, though, his body relaxes into sleep.
he's back on jay mountain again. he'd know it anywhere: the church floors, full of old wood, the pews, the way the light filtered through sometimes in the day or when the moonlight would penetrate it. he's in the nest he built out of stolen clothes, on one side, with dallas looking at him, his eyes bright in the darkness, his hair wild.
dallas reaches over, strokes his cheek. there's still blood on his fingers, still freshly wet, the smell of copper sharp. it's comforting, and dallas' voice is steady, low when he says, "you wanna be my mate? you mean that?"
he knows that when this actually happened, he felt his ears burn, his face burn with it, shy even though they'd been on jay mountain for months together. knowing that they weren't little kids, they'd done everything short of being real mates. here, though, there's none of that, just a smile crossing his face when he says, "i love you — course i do." he reaches up to touch that bloodied hand, and dallas' mouth widens in a smile. "we in a church, ain't we? best place to make vows, anyway."
the fangs in dallas' mouth look bone white as he closes the distance, pressing his mouth against ponyboy's own. ponyboy kisses him back, soft, sweet. he can hear something — something loud, thunderous that pulls him away from the kiss. the church isn't around them anymore; they're in the park and dallas' eyes look sharper, and he can see johnny's body on the ground again, can smell blood in his nostrils.
he should be afraid, he knows. he should pull away and instead, he darts forward, kisses dallas again as something thunders again and—
"pony," dallas' voice breaks through and ponyboy feels himself pulled back into the real world. into the fact that they're in joshua's house, he and dallas are on his seat. the candles are burning low, and the rumble is, indeed, thunder. he blinks at dallas blearily, able to feel that they've shifted, bodies pressed together in a line.
"s'time is it?" he asks, and dallas shifts upward a little, his fingers running through ponyboy's hair.
"been almost two hours," his mouth thins into a line. "ten more minutes and we need to go."
worry unfurls in ponyboy's stomach as more thunder rolls out. he swallows thickly, voice low, "you don't... you think—"
there's a rattle at the door. both of them stand up quickly, ponyboy stumbling, dallas in front of him. then the door opens, and in steps joshua. he flicks the light on, flooding the house immediately. he looks at them, a little paler than usual, but otherwise in tact, huffing out, "i got it." he holds up a canvas bag that's bulging with what ponyboy thinks is more than money. "you two weren't joking about the feds out there."
he hands over the bag, and dallas opens it — and sure enough, it's not just money in there. there's canned foods, some of their clothes, some beers, even and ponyboy can't help himself. he pulls joshua into a hug, the younger man giving a slight oomph! in reply. "thank you — fuck, thank you so much, joshua. we really, really need this." ponyboy pulls back, joshua a bit surprised. "did she calve okay? what happened?"
"she's fine — had triplets, actually," ponyboy doesn't have to see dallas to know he looks smug at this. "needed me to help her with the last one. all in all, she's okay. the feds… they're pissed." joshua pulls away, dallas closing the bag. "they were still trying to arrange for some people. you guys… you need to leave as soon as you can. they're calling up any and everyone, far as i could understand it."
"they probably can't get the car to work," dallas glances at ponyboy, "transmission failed, so they'll be there all night. how'd you get out of giving them a ride?"
joshua gives a bark of a laugh, gesturing to his clothes, still stained with viscera and other fluids. "they think i smell and look awful. didn't trust my truck, either." he looks at them both, expression more serious than before. "they… they said you were—"
ponyboy holds up a hand. "don't. it's better if you don't know. just… just know whatever they said, the only thing real about it is my name. it's on my birth certificate." he hasn't had to say that in years and joshua looks like he might laugh. ponyboy gives a half smile, and asks, "how much did you want? we're leaving, soon as we get our shoes on."
a slight smirk graces joshua's face that ponyboy can appreciate. all in all, they give up five-hundred dollars, and make quick work of the candles, of getting everything together. it's easier than leaving the house, at least, and when they get to the door, joshua waves them away.
dallas grips his hand tight, as they go into the night with the flashlights from before. the last ponyboy sees of joshua is his silhouette, framed by light.
and then he and dallas leave, the sound of thunder following them.