this fic is the backstory of "the otherside" aka my soc au. previous installments are on here and on ao3 under greasers. this is not dallas/cherry endgame in the least if you haven't read that or any other fic by me, as it's dallas/ponyboy, and as previously established, this is omegaverse. unlike most other fics, this is gonna be updated in real time, unlike others that are updated here months or weeks after i post.
"Sherri? What are you doing up this early?" Her mother's voice is tired, raspy as she walks into the kitchen, her feet shuffling on the shitty floor of the even shittier house.
"I gotta go pick up a friend," Cherry is so glad that she thought to set her alarm extra early and that she had thought to not put on lipstick before her mother could see her. "I gotta get going, I'll see you tonight."
"When tonight?" Her mother's voice takes on a sharper tone that Cherry dislikes. She shouldn't have that tone with her as Cherry shrugs on her jacket. "I don't want you out with a no good hoodlum at all hours, trying to sniff around your skirt."
Resentfully, Cherry thinks, how would you know, you drunk?
Those words don't leave her mouth because her mother would sooner pop her in the mouth if she said it. Instead she throws her mother a smile, as if she were sweet on the inside. "I won't be too late, I promise." Inside of her head, she knows her mother will be passed out drunk with a bottle by six o'clock and none the wiser as long as Cherry cleans up the bedroom and showers anything that could be offensive off of her – whether it be someone else's scent or alcohol. It wasn't like her father was going to be home for another week, and it wasn't as if she had siblings, anyhow. "I promise, Momma."
"You had better, girl," her mother looks around, sighs. "Go on."
Not like she needs her permission. Cherry strides out of the door, in her flats hitting the pavement as she goes. Her jacket flaps behind her as she moves in the September dawn, her eyes catching the sunset for just a moment, and then picking up the pace when she sees Marcia walk down her front steps with a jaunt. "Marcia! C'mon, we're gonna be late!"
Cherry wishes she had a car. A nice, tuff blue car like those Soc girls had, like their boyfriends had so she could just drive to where she wanted to go instead of walking everywhere like a bum.
Marcia adjusts her head, grinning as she waits for Cherry, and then catches up. "You really think this is gonna work?"
"It's gonna," Cherry stiffens up her chin, feels her heart flutter. She's only wanted a few things in life, most of them weren't easily attainable. And in that category was Dallas Winston: always with Sylvia in some way or if he wasn't, always gearing up to go back. And for a long, long time, it seemed as if no matter what Sylvia did, Cherry would never get him, never get who she wanted.
Not this time, though. She smirks as they get to the top of the hill. The neighborhood is waking up slowly, with people coming out of their homes or returning to them. Others are going in the direction that Cherry and Marcia are, intent on seeing Dallas. "All you gotta do is stick to the plan here, and tonight, I'll do my part."
"If it —"
"It'll work!" Cherry insists. "I'll finally get Dallas and then you can finally have a chance with Two-Bit." She sticks out her pinky, Marcia looping her own with Cherry's. They giggle and laugh, and for once, Cherry feels like she really is a teenage girl without worries, like those Soc girls who think more about their next manicure than they think about having to scrounge up money or clean up their mother's vomit when she's too drunk.
Cherry picks up the pace, knowing they've got a ways to go.
All the while, her head is buzzing with the day. It would be this, finally getting Dallas and then she'd have school. Of all the greaser girls, she was the only one her age who was in good classes, who actually tried for A's and B's. She'd even made her way to being a cheerleader — the only alpha and greaser girl on the squad.
Even though some of the attention it attracted made her squirm. Socs tended to think greaser girls were easy, whether they were alpha or omega — just they always thought omega girls were gonna just open their legs, versus alpha girls like her where they wanted a fight, wanted to be aggressive no matter what.
Cherry doesn't want that, doesn't want any of it. Soc boys have rarely turned her head, have rarely appealed.
All her heart has been set on, since was nine years old, was Dallas Winston. It was him, would always be him.
That included right now, as she finally saw the jail's doors opening. Her heart flutters in her chest as she looks at him, as he emerges almost like a prince, a sneer on his face, hand diving into the paper bag to retrieve his skull ring. His hair is dark, unstyled, about falling into his eyes.
Dallas Winston look like the JDs on the screen or magazines, picturesque as he lopes towards her, pushing the ring on his finger. The jeans he's wearing are a little old, his boots clicking as he goes down the steps, yelling out, "Cherry! Marcia! Where's Two-Bit?"
"He couldn't come," Marcia glances over at Cherry, clearly aware of how Cherry was looking at Dallas now. It's enough to make Cherry smarten up, for her look at Marcia. "Said his pops drove him to practice."
"Ah, shit," Dallas rolls his shoulders, nodding at some of the other greaser boys. "You girls going to class or what?"
"We've got a big test in class today," Cherry makes towards the school, knowing exactly what Dallas usually did when he got out of jail: go check on the other greasers, go find Sylvia, fuck her, and then go make up for the lost time in any form he could. Only that second step wasn't going to go the way it usually did. "I can't miss it."
"Guess not," he snickers, coming to the main road, going through the back. "Buck's busy?"
"Nope," Marcia pops the p in that word, clearly working up to what she needed to do, wanting to get it over with. Cherry hopes she doesn't push it too hard, make it unnatural, her heart pounding louder in her chest, harder. "Race got canceled the other day, didn't it, Cherry?"
"Yeah," Cherry chimes in, palms sweaty. Dallas turns his gaze elsewhere and she mouths c'mon! to Marcia. "It got too muddy for anyone to ride."
"Means it might still be shit today. Gotta ask Tim if he's got anything then," Dallas turns his gaze back to them. "Sylvia still working at The Dingo?"
"Yeah, she is," Marcia takes the plunge, jostling her books. "We saw her last night, actually. We didn't stay too long, though." Marcia clears her throat, looking contrite. "She, uh, left this, though." Marcia digs into her pocket, and withdraws the St. Christopher that Dallas always gave Sylvia, always gave any girlfriend.
It glimmers in Marcia's hand. Dallas stops, stares at it, Marcia offering it to him. "Saw her take it off before she went into the back room with some beta. Cherry and I –"
Dallas snatches it away. Cherry can't suppress the triumph she feels as he considers it, at the way it glints in his palm.
Sylvia wasn't going to be a problem anymore. Ever.
All Cherry can think is that in the next twenty four hours, Dallas Winston was gonna be hers. Just hers.
Nothing was gonna keep her from that. Even though Dallas' face hardens, even though his scent – always so sharp, always something she loved overwhelming her senses – takes a turn towards agitated, angry, she knows that in a few hours, they can fix this.
So she offers that, in the nicest voice she can muster, "Why don't we all go out, tonight? Go see a movie with the other greasers, forget about her? Us, Two-Bit, we could all go."
For a second, she thinks Dallas might to be too angry to agree. His fingers put the medallion back around his neck, his jaw ticking. Then his head jerks in a nod. "Sure, why not? That two timing broad – I'll take care of it tomorrow." He nods to the school. "C'mon, I don't want any of those Socs to catch up with you two."
He steps forward. Cherry beams at Marcia, and then she follows.
Cherry and Marcia both make their way inside, Dallas not paying much attention once they enter through the doors. The only school's he's ever been to is the reformatory, and only long enough to get let out on good behavior.
Only for a second does he consider going in, mostly because there's not much out here to do, to go to. Not without the anger coiling around in his cut like an angry snake, filling him with bile. Of all the things he'd expected when he got out of the jailhouse, he hadn't counted on being told that Sylvia had cheated.
Cherry and Marcia hadn't given him more details, hadn't said more than necessary. The medal was more than enough for him, and having it back around his neck wasn't really a comfort so much as it was a reminder of who he was, of where he stood.
Worse than that, all he wants to do is just give into the blind rage, the anger. All that time he'd spent with Sylvia, all that time he'd been with her, thinking she'd be good for him, would change. Dallas can feel his hand starting to shake, and his scent shifting with it, his knuckles starting to ache, spoiling for a fight.
A few people can clearly scent him, giving him a wider berth.
He breathes through his nose, turning around, heading to the gravel pit with the cars. He's got no real friends here besides Cherry, Marcia, and Two-Bit Mathews. And Two-Bit was always here in the morning before anyone else. More than likely, he'd be finishing up before the first classes.
He makes his way through the gravel pit, mostly filled with cars driven by Socs, and a handful of much older ones from the greasers. Dallas trudges through, thoughts stormy as he goes. All he wants is a good fight right now, right after he confirms things with Two-Bit.
When he gets to the main hill that overlooked the track, he snarls at a pair of girl's who are talking. One of them is a beta who immediately cowers, the other girl and alpha who's easily intimidated as Dallas passes, her eyes downcast. Her lipstick is awfully like Sylvia's, which makes him angrier as he goes down the bleachers to look for Two-Bit.
It's not hard: Two-Bit is at the very edge of the track, head bowed, panting, his scent sharp from the morning work out he's had. Sweat slicks down his back, his bare arms rippling with muscle he's been working on since the moment his father realized what he'd had on his hands.
"Dally? You're out already?" Two-Bit doesn't turn around, just reaches for his water bottle for another swig.
Dallas comes to sit beside him, still glowering in anger. "Yeah, busted my ass to play goody two shoes. Know what I got instead? The girls told me Sylvia's been getting some beta's dick wet."
A grimace makes it's way on Two-Bit's face, looking up in the sharp cold breeze. "I don't know who that beta is," Two-Bit shrugs, his shoulders bobbing with the movement. If he'd been wearing his letterman jacket – blue and gold, set to the side – it would've slid off from the movement. "Only know that it was a real scene when it happened. I'm sorry man – would've been there this morning but I –"
"Had practice, yeah I know," Dallas huffs out and he cuts his eyes at Two-Bit. He hated coming onto the school grounds to talk, only it was the only time to reliably get Two-Bit's attention on Fridays. He was always keeping busy, his old man relentless about his wrestling. Dallas never understood it, himself. "It's fine."
It isn't, really. It wasn't as if Dallas was stupid – the first time Sylvia had cheated on him, he'd wanted to break up until she explained, had given him a sob story. This time, though, this was different. Public.
Fool him once and all that shit.
Socs and jocks run past, and Two-Bit puts his hand on his side, grimacing. He straightens up, squinting. "So, what're you gonna do about? Kick his head in? Find his girlfriend and fuck her instead? I'm sure Molly'd love that, actually." He grins in a way that Dallas has always liked, that sharp grin that ain't really Soc so much as it is greaser, mischievous, disarming. It helps cool Dallas' head just a little bit.
"Right now, nothing Tonight? Was gonna go out, see a movie with Cherry and Marcia. Maybe see if any of those Brumly's wanna go," Dallas' leg bounces. "Rather go out, do something else, but I ain't itching to go back so soon."
Two-Bit sighs in that way Dallas is familiar with, that way that makes him annoyed cause fucking hell, when was he gonna ever push back against his old man? "I'd love to go out with you and the girls. I might skip, get a little wasted before I come down. Old man can tear into my ass later."
It's not a full rebellion, but it's something. "You bringing Molly?"
"If I come, yeah," Two-Bit takes another swig of water. "I'm sure she'll have some real choice words for Sylvia." He claps his hand on Dallas' shoulder. The way he does it is a lot like his old man, and for a moment, Dallas considers that maybe Two-Bit is trying to keep him out of trouble.
The rest of him just shoves it away, stews in the memory of Sylvia, of how she'd promised to come see him and how she had. She'd been freshly showered, her perfume masking her scent and all over again, Dallas feels like a fucking idiot for trusthing her.
Dallas considers for a moment just not going, just going to get in a fight. Then he remembers he made a promise to the girls, that he didn't want to have to go back on it, and remembers how dangerous it actually is to go anywhere most days right now.
He nods at Two-Bit. And still, considers punching Tim Shepard in the face, just cause it'd feel good, relieve some of the anger in him right now, relieve the feeling of anger, betrayal.
A whistle blows. That's Dallas' signal to beat it before someone thought of going to a traunt officer. "I'll see you later, Two-Bit," he waves, and Two-Bit lets him go. Dallas wonders just what he's gonna do now, wonders what Sylvia's doing.
He hopes that beta has fun with her.
Dallas makes his way from the track, heading towards the main gravel pit as students go towards the showers and the main building. It's about the final bell — anyone who comes in after this got a demerit, as far as he understood it. Most didn't want to get in trouble like that with their folks, at least the kids who had decent parents.
He ain't one of them as he watches them run towards the doors, watches the last cars pull in. Some people park haphazardly, sloppy, and climb out.
Dallas makes his way past some, shoving a couple that just look small enough to be intimidated. it helps the mean urge in him, the anger as he shoves some books out of some poindexter's arms, as he goes to the mouth of the drive way.
Apparently, though, consequences were quick today. Dallas only has a moment to see the white car turning in, to hear that tell tale, ugly roar that everyone who was a greaser was familiar with now. If the driver sees him, they don't care, just revving up quicker —
— he thinks quick on his feet, running towards the side, barely getting out of the way as the car flies into the parking lot, kicking up gravel everywhere it goes. That includes spraying Dallas painfully in the side. A laugh is heard, along with the words, "Watch where you're going, greaser!"
His heart pounds in his ears as the car does a smooth park into it's space. It's larger than everyone else's, making sure that it took up the most room in the pit.
With anger, Dallas watches as the car is put in park, the driver coming out of the front seat with a flourish of his expensive fur lined jacket, and his dark eyes glittering as he looks around. "Looks like we ain't squish him."
Instantly, Dallas is moving towards him, ignoring the pain in his leg and sides, "You looking to make good on that, Soc?"
The Soc in question turns his dark eyes to him, but it's not his face that Dallas notices first. The cologne he has splashed on him is offensively strong, all to mask what he really is as Dallas glowers at him. He didn't even go over Dallas' shoulder unless he had those fancy heeled shoes on, to say nothing of the lack of scent he gave off.
At least most of the time. Dallas can see as his eyes lock on him, he seems to have an undercurrent of fear in his scent, enough for Dallas to pick up on. Not his friends, though, as the taller one opens his car door, stepping out with a sneer. "I thought they kept mutts you in the reformatory where you belonged. You think he's safe to be around, Johnny?"
"I heard they let 'em loose after they get fixed," the first Soc smirks, dark eyes entirely hostile. "Gotta do that before they breed up every broad their cock falls into."
All at once, the anger Dallas feels towards Sylvia suddenly has a way out. It's crystal clear what he should do: punch this soc in the nose as hard as he could and kick his friend in the face until he was satisfied. The urge is lightning fast, his scent shifting, and Dallas can feel himself gearing up to punch him —
A whistle rents the air.
All of their head's snap towards the sound. One of the school coaches is there, and she barks out, "Mister Cade! Mister Sheldon! I believe you're late for your classes!"
Johnny Cade looks towards the woman, doing that thing Soc's do where they suddenly become clean cut little Beatles for adults. "Sorry, Ms. Desjardin! I was just saying hello to my friend, Dallas!"
Friend? Dallas spits right on Johnny Cade's friend, unwilling to let that lie go. His friends freeze, the coach freezes, and Johnny turns his head, face melting away from that sweetness.
Only Dallas ain't stupid – he knows that if that woman gets down that hill, he'll go back to jail tonight. So instead he hisses out, "This ain't over."
Johnny, Bob, and the last of them, emerging from the car, Randy Adderson glower back. Dallas has no doubt they'll spin this as him turning tail, and what that means.
He's deadset on proving that entirely wrong the next time he sees any of them.
It's dangerous to day dream during classes filled with Soccy girls. Only, Cherry can't help herself to let her guard down, to allow herself to doodle CV + DW on her notebook, to think about what it would be like to kiss Dallas, to think about how in a few hours time, she'd have his medal on her neck.
Cherry can't help the grin on her face, at the thought of Dallas placing it around her neck. Of her kissing who was ostensibly the prince of greasers, at her side. Being able to finally have him, and all that she needed to have done was give in to a little push.
Every moment that passes by, she wants everything to go faster, wants the clocks to spin and spin towards the future. All Cherry wants is that, and instead she's stuck in class, watching Bob Sheldon pal around with his lackey, Randy Adderson.
For all that Bob Sheldon could be potentially handsome, it's ruined by the fact that not only is he an annoying Soc Alpha – one of the ones who loved to boast about his dynamic, to be a cad – was that he was an even bigger lackey to someone else. He ran Randy Adderson, but Bob, at the end of the day, answered to an even worse asshole.
An asshole who wasn't even an alpha, couldn't even give a good scent, relying on the expensive colognes his father gave him, on his money.
An asshole who was late to class, who Cherry didn't even want to look at as he walked in the door. "Sorry, Mrs. Tweed. I wasn't feeling well this morning."
"That's fine, Mr. Cade," Mrs. Tweed is like most adults: she doesn't think there's a damn thing wrong with Johnny Cade even though every greaser is wary of him, even though even Socs knew not to mess with him. Cherry's pencil stills in the middle of shading in the V, looking at him as he walks over to Randy and Bob.
His eyes are dark, fathomless. He could be handsome, sweet if it wasn't for the cruelty coming off of him in waves, if it wasn't for the way that he clearly was wearing the equivalent of six month's rent in just expensive clothes, from the jacket to the tie.
He doesn't spare her a glance as he comes to sit next to Randy and Bob. Like usual, they're eating out of the palm of his hand. Mrs. Tweed doesn't notice as she goes back to teaching.
Cherry looks at him. Her skin crawls, and she averts her eyes.
Dallas would never, ever stand for his bullshit.
Cherry drops her eyes back to her paper. A few more hours and she wouldn't have to hear Johnny Cade snickering, wouldn't have to hear Bob and Randy hanging onto every word.
Everything was gonna go right today.
Didn't matter if Johnny Cade and his pals were going to make class longer with their antics. Didn't matter that she had hours to go until she was outside. Didn't matter that'd she'd be willing to sacrifice one of her favorite pairs of jeans for this go off without a hitch. Didn't even matter that she had to borrow some money from Marcia for the movies, for their plan to go on and that it'd hurt her when she had to pay up at the end of the month, no matter whether her Daddy drank the money up or her Mama spent the rest on bills.
The sun was shining. It wasn't all that cold for a fall day, and when the bell rang, after she looked over herself, she was going to go to Dallas, and walk with him to the movies. They were gonna sneak in or pay, and she'd let him do it. They were going to see a Sal Mineo movie – the one that was supposedly rough, that made girls squirm. They were going to get to a dull part in the movie, and she'd spill her drink on him by accident. And Dallas, being Dallas, was going to get up, go get her another one. They'd stand in line, talk, and on the way back, they'd exchange drinks with each other, fingers brushing, and she'd tell him what she's been wanting all this time.
Just like the movies, they'd kiss then. She'd be his girl, the way she always knew she would be.
She smiles and draws over and over again: CV + DW until she writes in a corner, small and hopeful: Cherry Winston.
Yeah. That's perfect.
i'll be updating this perhaps every week. thank you so much for reading, i love comments and kudos! 💖