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Guard dog.
That’s what Dallas has been acting like ever since the church fire. Ever since he saw what Johnny looked like in that hospital bed. Ever since he had to help take care of Johnny when he healed and started sleeping on the Curtis’s couch.
And that’s what he’s doing right now. Trailing behind the gang as they wander through a mall on the nice side of town, back hunched, eyes scanning the perimeter. Dallas glares at old people who come too close, and growls at anyone who strays too near to Johnny, who’s still depending on crutches to hop around. Who’ll probably depend on crutches for the rest of his life.
It used to be Darry’s job: staying towards the back, vigilant of any trouble that may start. But ever since he started to lighten up and be more loose around the gang, it’s slipped his mind.
No one minded, no one complained. Dallas just…naturally fell into place.
He was the new Dog, just like how Johnny was the Pet.
A girl around their age eyes the group, gaze landing on Johnny’s crutches. They were littered with colorful stickers and the gang’s signatures, including Cherry and Marcia’s. Anyone else would have ignored the girl’s look, but Dallas saw how her brows drew together and how her lip tugged up.
Judgmental.
And everyone knows that you don’t look at the Pet like that.
Dallas slides up next to Johnny, laying a heavy arm over his shoulders. Always heavy touches, not light, because light ones make Johnny’s skin itch, like Sherpa or cotton balls.
Johnny looks up at the older boy and smiles, then goes back to whatever conversation he was having with Ponyboy before Dallas decided to drape all over him. Dallas gives the girl from before one last withering look, confirming she averts her gaze.
“—ain’t that right, Dal?” Two-Bit says.
“Huh?”
Johnny chuckles. It jostles Dallas’s arm up and down atop his shoulders, the boy’s warmth radiating through his leather sleeves. Johnny has started forgoing his own jacket, just wearing t-shirts. And boy, does he look good. “Just talkin’ about how soft yer gettin’.”
“Soft?” Dallas grunts. “I ain’t soft.”
Ponyboy turns around, walking backwards as they make their way through the shopping center. He holds up an empty frozen yogurt cup, once piled with toppings. Dallas had just bought it for him from the food court. The youngest of their gang smiles boyishly.
“Well, maybe not soft, but you’re sure as hell nicer.” Pony notes.
Dallas ruffles his hair, which is still brittle from his peroxide-dye all those months ago, then shoves his head back. Pony stumbles like a toddler, only staying upright thanks to Darry catching him.
“Big, mean Dally,” Johnny says, butting his head into the other’s shoulder. “Sweet as cherry pie.”
“If you weren’t already in crutches, I’d break your legs, Johnnycake.” He replies. There’s no malice behind it.
In fact, if his face heats up and he blushes like he never has before, that’s no one’s business but his own. Sweet as cherry pie. Dallas avoids the gang’s raised eyebrows, not very subtly.
“Right!” Steve stops in front of a shop with…interesting advertisements out front, and a large neon sign flashing Adult Only. “I’m headin’ in here. You little ones better stay out. Who’s comin’ with?”
“Now what the hell is that?” Darry asks, nose wrinkling in disgust.
“Sex shop!” Two-Bit answers. His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.
“Sex shop! Sex shop! Sex shop!” Soda, Steve and Two-Bit all chant, rushing into the store. Darry and Dallas make eye contact. Ponyboy fake-gags, swerving to head inside another store nearby.
Dallas slides away from Johnny finally. “You gonna follow him?”
“I better. Gotta make sure he doesn’t get lost in that bookstore again.” He smiles. His teeth are crooked, and a bit more yellow than the other’s, but it’s adorable, and makes him look younger. It cancels out the age added to his face after he first got jumped.
The younger boy turns and hobbles as fast as he can after Ponyboy, disappearing into a little shop across the way. Darry looks visibly uncomfortable without an eyeline on his brothers. Instead of following either of them, he finds a table and chair next to a vending machine and sits down, twiddling his thumbs. Dallas follows, sitting across from him.
It’s odd. They’re never alone together. With how similar their names are, they really have nothing else in common.
It’s silent for a solid minute.
“So…how’s work?”
“Fine. They may be upping my pay soon. The owner seems to like me better than his own son, so I’ll probably get the promotion meant for him.” Darry says.
“That’ll help feed the boys better? Soda and Pony and…Johnny?” Dallas asks. He picks at his nails nonchalantly.
Darry smirks. “You worried about ol’ Johnny? That it?”
“Shut it. I was askin’ about all of them.” He kicks the Darry’s leg under the table. “He’s sleeping under your roof. So he’s included.”
“He’s the only one you really care about the well-being of, though. You know the other two are under my care. But Johnny…” Darry trails off, and his smile gets bigger, smugger. “He ain’t just the Gang’s Pet. He’s your pet.”
A chill goes up Dallas’s spine. He shudders at the thought. The thought of him calling Johnny that to his face. How red he would turn, like roses across dark soil. His brain buzzes like a distant machine.
Dallas pats around in his pockets for a cigarette, but he quit after the fire. Johnny didn’t care for being around smoke after that. Instead he fiddles with the handkerchief in his back pocket.
“Woah there,” Darry’s perfect eyebrows raise dramatically, “you really got it bad. ”
“You act like you don’t feed Two-Bit more than the others when he comes over.” Dallas snaps back. Darry flinches in surprise, clearly not expecting anyone to have noticed.
“You growl like a dog at anyone who even looks at Johnny.” Darry snaps back.
“You pretend not to find Two-bit funny, but smile to yourself after all his jokes.”
“You give Johnny piggyback rides.”
“After rumbles, you always check on Two-Bit first after yer brothers.”
The boys stare, eyes narrowed.
“So the both of us…?”
“Wanna kiss our respective…” Dallas looks around, notices people nearby, and lowers his voice. “…’partners’ ‘til they can’t think?”
“Pretty much.”
Darry offers a hand over the table and they shake on it. It’s a silent agreement to never speak to anyone of this interaction ever again.
There’s a sense of relief in it; the fact that someone like Darry can be a queer, too. He’s a perfect man: strong, gallant, nurturing, they call him Superman, for Christ’s sake. Dallas got beaten a good amount all over for being a queer, from New York to Texas. Always told he wasn’t man enough for the way he looked at boys. And here was the most manly guy of all, even by Dallas’ standards, swooning over the mere thought of another man.
“Speak of the devil…” Dallas points towards the entrance of the sex shop, where Two-Bit had exited with a black bag in hand. Darry turns red and buries his face in his hands at the implication. “Aye! Over here!”
Two-Bit saunters over with the confidence of an alley cat. He hops up, sitting on the table between the two already there. Dallas watches Darry physically struggle to not look at the ass in front of him.
“Do we even want to know what’s in the bag?” Dallas comments. He sends a smug glance to Darry.
Two-Bit looks around, checks that there are no women or children, and then, much to everyone’s horror, shoves his hand in the bag and pulls something out.
It’s a ring. A big ring. That he spins around his finger. He must have already taken it out of its packaging, which is unnerving. Or he stole it and the bag. Who knows.
“What is that?” Darry exclaims.
Dallas knows, unfortunately. You don’t go to clubs in New York slums without seeing unsavory things.
Two-Bit grins like a fox. He swings his leg to the side, so he’s directly facing Darry with his back to Dallas. And he leans in real close. Dallas wished he had that much skill. And also wished he wasn’t present for this.
“Cock ring.”
“What?”
“Maybe I could try it on some time and show ya?”
God damn, that was smooth. And also Dallas is very uncomfortable being right next to them while this is said. He stands abruptly.
“I’m gonna go find J—“
“Dally!”
He perks up in a disturbing mockery of a pointer hound. The other two turn violently in the direction of Ponyboy, who’s running out of the bookshop he was previously in. Dallas almost falls with how fast he rushes to meet him. Sure, Pony is an energetic kid, but he sure as hell doesn’t run through malls yelling with that scared look on his face for no reason.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
“It’s Johnny! I went to the classics section and when I got back he…he—“ Ponyboy says in one breath. Darry gets out of his chair to grab his brother’s face.
They do this weird breathing thing that a therapist taught Cherry, who then taught it to Soda, who in turn taught it to them. But Dallas doesn’t stick around to watch.
He sprints faster into that store than he ever has running from cops. He gets weird and concerned looks from the workers and patrons as he swerves through aisles.
He finds Johnny in the children’s section, a middle aged man leaning over his crouched form. The man has several rings on his fingers, and they glint in the fluorescent lights. Fuck. If that wasn’t what set Johnny off originally, then it’s sure as hell gonna make it worse. Through Johnny’s shirt, he can see the hard, tense muscles of his back. His hands are clutching his neck, pinkies tracing his vertebrae.
Dallas body-checks the man hovering over Johnny. “Get the fuck away from him.”
“Woah, I was just trying to—“
“Get. Back.” He hisses, giving his meanest glare possible. He would have done so much worse, broken something on or inside the guy, but he’s been cutting back in the violence lately. Much to his own displeasure.
The man hurries away, arms raised in surrender. Dallas wants to slice his ankles with a blade.
Instead, he sits in front of Johnny. Both hands firmly on the younger boy’s shoulders, he presses down. Johnny always likes pressure like that when he has one of his episodes.
“Dal?” Johnny whispers. A sob is on the brink of his throat. It’s the worst sound in the world.
“Hey, Johnnycake. You’re alright. Everything's gonna be right as rain, got it?” Dallas talks slow and steady.
“Jacket.”
“What was that?”
“Yer jacket.” Johnny loosens a hand around his neck and makes a grabby motion towards Dallas.
Dallas shucks off his leather and wraps it tight around the boy. He pulls it over Johnny’s head, blocking out the lights that he knows are too harsh. Johnny loosens, snuggling into the slick fabric of the jacket. Releasing the grip on his nape, Johnny instead holds Dallas’s hands close to his shoulders. The warmth of skin is impossible to ignore.
“What happened?” Dallas asks.
“The lights, and there was this baby crying, and the smell of books was too much. Then there was a guy with all those rings and…ugh.”
“It’s all good, Johnny. I’m right here. Ain’t nothing bad gonna happen with me here. I promise, Darlin’.”
“I know, I know.”
“Tell me whatever you need and I’ll make it happen.”
Johnny pulls together a smile. It isn’t as happy as the rest that day have been. “Let’s just go back to the gang, yeah?”
“Of course. C’mon, Johnnycake.” Dallas pulls the other to his feet, sliding an arm around his waist to keep him upright. Johnny’s crutches are still on the floor.
Their trek back to the group is mostly Dallas walking while carrying all of Johnny’s weight. To be fair, it isn’t a lot of weight. They make it back to the table, and Dallas sends Pony to fetch the crutches. Dallas’s seat was left open, so he plops down, pulling Johnny into his lap. Two-Bit and Darry are shooting concerned looks, but the younger boy offers a thumbs-up.
“What happened there?” Ponyboy asks when he comes back. He props the crutches against the table. Johnny makes no effort to move from his place.
“Just another one’a my episodes,” he says. “Soda and Steve still in the store?”
“A’yep.” Two-Bit is no longer holding what he had bought/stolen. The black bag it came in is now tied off and stowed safely in his jacket pocket. Safe keeping for later with Darry, maybe. “I didn’t see a point in going to get them, ‘cause you only ever want Dally around when you break like that.”
“What could you do, Two-Bit? Court-jester him out of a panic?” Dallas scoffs. He wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist, resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder.
“I don’t even have an argument to that.”
“Don’t worry, Bud, you aren’t completely useless.” Ponyboy gives his best movie-star grin and pats Two-Bit on the shoulder, pulling chuckles and breaking tension. He looks so much like Sodapop for second, Dallas has to blink.
“Keep talkin’ and I might just make you blond again.”
“No!”
Johnny wriggles with laughter. Dallas really wants to kiss the exposed skin behind his ear. He turns to Darry, trying to avoid the thought, only to see the guy staring at Two-Bit with stupid heart-eyes.
So they’re both pathetic. Good to know.
———
Soda and Steve came out from the adult store giggling at each other evilly, and that’s when Darry uncomfortably rallied everyone away from that section of the mall.
It’s in a thrift shop that they all gather, and it’s there where Dallas gets a dog collar thrown at him.
“What the fuck, Steve—“ he growls, picking up a stuffed animal from a near shelf and hurling it at his friend.
“Me an’ Sodiepop got you that at the Sex Shop!” Steve and Soda giggle like cartoon villains, throwing arms around each other.
The collar is black with silver studs, like the pitbull Marcia had adopted a few weeks ago. It has an O-shaped ring on it, and the knowledge that this came from a shop with blackout curtains covering the front is deeply unnerving. Dallas didn’t even know there were places like that here. The last time he had seen one of those, it was in a shady part of Brooklyn that Dallas preferred to forget about.
“I am not a fuckin’ dog—“
“Hey, Dally? C’mere!” Johnny’s shout comes from another aisle.
Dallas turns on his heel and heads directly for the noise so Johnny doesn’t have to wobble around to find him. Bursts of laughter erupt from behind him, but he ignores it. Dallas shoves the collar into his pocket. The leather is still stiff.
Johnny just wanted to show him a dumb shirt, but that routine keeps up for the rest of the day.
Dallas talks with someone, or is browsing, or off on his own, but as soon as Johnny calls his name, he comes.
At one point, Dallas is talking up a girl just for the fun of it. He’s leaned in, smiling his winning smile, arm braced against a shelf, biceps looking just right—and then Johnny beckons and he abandons everything to indulge the boy’s excitement.
He can hear the gang laugh throughout the store every time it happens.
Damn.
———
Johnny is sitting on his couch, legs kicked over Dallas’s shoulders where the other sits on the floor before him. Every once in a while, Johnny slides a hand down and shoves popcorn into Dallas’s mouth. He’s in heaven.
“Look at Dally, he’s in heaven.” Two-Bit says. He’s one to talk, considering he’s sprawled out across Darry on the recliner.
The hand Johnny isn’t using to shove food in his mouth glides into Dallas’s hair. Fingers press into his scalp, and his eyes roll back just slightly. He stops trying to hold his head up, and instead lets it crash back onto Johnny’s thighs, nuzzling his nose into the other boy’s denim jeans. He’d purr, if his body was capable.
Ponyboy, leaned up against Johnny’s shoulder, giggles. He steals a handful of popcorn from the bowl, and shovels all but one piece into his mouth. The remaining kernel he throws across the room to Soda, who bites it out of the air with a grin. Soda and Steve are sitting on the floor just next to the TV, playing an aggressive game of cards.
“He’s like a puppy.” Steve chimes in.
Dallas almost sits up to snap at him, but Johnny’s hand sinks into his neck and kneads the knotted muscles there. “Fu-uck—“
Two-Bit cackles.
And he keeps cackling loudly, until Darry wraps an arm around his waist to keep him still, then he goes limp. Dallas sends a middle finger his way. That’s right.
Dallas doesn’t even care what’s on the television anymore. He starts to doze off to the noises around them.
Johnny crunches on popcorn. The rustling of fabric means that Ponyboy is sleepy enough to burrow into his shoulder. Two-Bit is silent for once, the only noise from that side of the room being the creaking of the recliner he and Darry are stacked on. Steve and Soda are somehow playing cards very loudly without speaking at all. Honestly, Dallas can’t tell if those two are just friends, or have been making out when no one is watching; it’s an equal bet for both.
He isn’t sure how much time has passed, but someone eventually shuts the TV off. The front door is open but the screen is shut and latched, letting in nice summer air.
There’s hushed voices. Soda’s cheap cologne wafts by, and then he’s grunting, lifting Ponyboy into his arms and off down the hall. Darry is snoring like an old man.
“C’mon, Pup, get up here.” Johnny says. His voice is gentle, but the tug on Dallas’s sleeve isn’t.
Somehow, the older boy manages to pull himself up enough to get horizontal on the couch, right on top of Johnny. His face is pressed into a warm, flat stomach, heartbeat against his ear. He shoves his nose in and inhales deep.
He really isn’t beating the Dog allegation.
“Good.”
Dallas has hands all over his head again. Rubbing his scalp, massaging his neck, scratching behind his ears. Johnny hits a nerve and Dallas’s leg twitches almost violently. God, he’ll never live this down.
Johnny slowly pulls the hair at the base of his neck.
Dallas falls asleep faster than he has in years.