Raising Dallas

by Your_Denis

Summary:

Despite his obedience the first time they met, the Curtis parents quickly realize Dallas will be their hardest challenge yet. Jane Curtis was up for it, but how can she get Dallas used to her boys and her boys used to Dallas?

Chapter 1

Jane Curtis, mother of three biological children, co-parent to one child, and mother figure to two—now three, potentially kidnapped children. She knew how to deal with difficult children, but she hasn't had a challenge like Dallas Winston yet.

Dallas is so sweet to her. He melts at her praise and will obey her orders with—at most—mild annoyance. But the boys are a different story. Well, the boy.

He gets along with Steve and Two-bit well enough. He's friendly with Soda and Johnny. It's awkward with Pony, but he's been willing to entertain the kid. The problem comes with Darry.

He's too much like his father, making Dallas get all riled up. It's clear as day that boy doesn't do well with male authority figures. She's tried to get Darry to ease up and Dallas to stay calm, but it's not use.

Darry looks at Dallas like he's a criminal.
Dallas looks at Darry like he's a threat.
Both boys are too damn stubborn to yield before the other does.

If her husband could just accept Dallas, her eldest would follow. Darrel Curtis Sr doesn't do well when he feels disrespected, but she knows he has to open the door for Dallas.


"He's like Johnny. You can't be all rough with him." Jane scolds.
"Johnny? Please! He's the farthest kid we have from Johnny!" Darrel argues.
"He's got his shackles raised because you do! If you had some understanding then he wouldn't be so harsh!"

Darrel groans as if he's one of their teenage sons.

"You have to try." She says. "That's all I ask."
"Alright, I'll try.." He concedes.

She kisses his cheek and thanks him. Hopefully dinner will go smoothly.


Dinner is always a battle. Food and silverware flying, boys picking on each other, someone being picky about food; it's always something.

Dallas is a breath of fresh air. He eats everything on his plate, simply watching the chaos instead of joining. She once asked if he eats anything during the day, but the answer was a noncommittal 'sometimes' that made her blood boil. She can't stand knowing kids go hungry.

He's like Johnny in that he won't ask for seconds, but she'd had practice at gouging what her boys like and don't like. Jane has also gotten used to packing up some food for Dallas to bring with him.

Soon enough he'll be staying with them full time, but it's baby steps.

Darrel Sr tries to be civil, that's all she can ask.

"So, Dallas," The boy tenses up, "do you work?" Darrel asks.
"Yeah." He mutters. He calls her ma'am, but he has yet to even utter the word 'sir' in their house.

"Yeah? What do you do? Sell drugs?" Pony asks, still awestruck at Dallas's criminal record.
"No! I mean, I got friends that do, but I don't wanna get mixed up in all that stuff." Dallas says.

"Good boy. There's nothing cool about being a criminal." Jane pointedly looks at Pony. Dallas blushes at the praise.

"I work for Buck, mostly. I clean up around the bar and organize inventory. I'm one of the jockeys for the rodeo too."
"Woah! You get to ride the horses?" Soda asks. In his excitement he stands up out of his seat. Jane scolds him and tells him to sit down.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool, I guess.." Dallas says, leaning away from the excited teen.

"He has you workin' in a bar?" Darry asks incredulously.
"What? You above havin' a drink once in awhile?" Dallas snarks. "Besides, I'm not supposed to touch the inventory."

"But do you?" Steve asks with a smirk.
Dallas smirks back at him. "I'm not supposed to."

Darrel Sr opens his mouth, but his wife pinches his thigh before he can say anything.

"What's the pay like? Better than the DX I hope." Steve jokes.
"It's alright. The rodeos are the money makers. The cleaning and stuff gets me a couple bucks, but it mostly pays for me livin above the bar."

"Woah! You live in a bar!?" Pony asks excitedly.
"No, I live in the apartment above it. It's pretty shitty honestly, but it's better than outside." Dallas says.

"Language." Jane says. "Honey, you know you can stay here if you need a place."
Dallas doesn't apologize but he does guiltily look away, muttering, "It's not so bad. The roof only leaks sometimes."

"Our roof doesn't leak. Well, unless it rains super hard." Pony says, Jane reaches over to pinch him.
"Our roof doesn't leak!"

"Still, I wouldn't wanna..yknow, you already got so many kids."
"So true! I ain't sharin' my food!" Two-bit says, grinning like always.

"Don't you have your own house and your own mama to cook for you?" Steve asks.
"Well yeah! After dinner I come here for seconds!"

That gets a laugh out of Dallas. No one can resist Two-bit for long. Steve and Two get into a spat after that, and dinner dissolves back into its usual chaos. Jane will get Dallas next time.

 

Next time comes later than she expected. By that, she means it's one in the morning when they get a knock at the door.

Her mom instincts are the only reason she wakes up. Darrel is a light sleeper and is up with her.

"The hell..?" He mutters while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Language..I think it might be Johnny.." Jane whispers. She climbs out of bed and heads into the living room before he can argue.

Darrel follows her, muttering about having work in the morning. She ignores him in favor of opening the door, expecting to see Johnny's kicked puppy expression. Instead, she's met with a certain albino teenager.

"Dallas! Are you alright honey?" Jane asks, checking him over for injuries.
"I-I'm okay.." He says, fidgeting in place. He looks all of sixteen years old; too young to be so cold.

Jane ushers him inside, locking up behind him.

"What is goin' on?" Darrel asks. Dallas is so startled that he actually flinches. Darrel is taken aback as he gets that scared puppy look that Johnny usually gives him.

"Honey, what happened?" Jane asks gently.
"Buck is-um..Buck is pissed off. Kicked me out again. I-I usually go to the Shepards but.." Dallas trails off. He's too anxious to take his eyes off Darrel. Whatever happened with Buck clearly spooked him.
"Okay..okay, sweetheart. You can take the couch for now."

Dallas nods, but makes no moves to actually sit on the couch. He flinches again when Darrel suddenly walks off.

Jane smiles when Darrel comes back with some extra blankets.

"It's too early for this. Get some sleep and we'll see what we do in the morning." He says. Jane's smile only brightens.

She helps Dallas get settled, before returning to bed with her husband. Jane kisses his cheek with a grin.

"Jane, it's late.."
"I think you made some progress with him. He has to stay here full time now."
"Only you could be excited about another mouth to feed."

Chapter 2

"You talk in your sleep." Pony says, two inches from Dallas's face. The blonde groans and gets up on his elbow.

He's always a mess in the morning. Completely delirious for the first hour of consciousness. His hair is an absolute birdsnest. Long, blonde locks are tangled beyond comprehension. He rubs at his eyes to try and make sense of his current situation.

He's still stretched out on the Curtis's couch. Basically all of the boys are sat on the floor around the TV, save for Soda who is in the kitchen. Darrel Sr is sat in his armchair, while his wife fusses in the kitchen with Soda.

"Mornin' Dal." Soda says casually, as if Dallas didn't show up in the middle of the night to take over his couch. As if he isn't in the way.

Upon thinking that, Dallas pulls his legs to his chest, uncomfortable with taking up so much space. The boys immediately scramble up on the couch, fighting over designated spots.

"Boys! Enough! Dallas just woke up and he doesn't wanna hear that racket." Jane hollers from the kitchen.
"I think he needs one of your hairbrushes, Ma!" Darry calls, smirking at how disheveled the blonde looks.

Dallas is still trying to return to the world of the living after the most peaceful night he's had in his life.

"Wha'..?" He mumbles.
"Oh Honey, lemme get my things." Mrs Curtis says. She rushes into her bedroom, coming out with a spray bottle, a hair brush, and a pack of brightly colored scrunchies.

In his sleepy haze, Dallas allows himself to be manhandled to sit on the floor in front of Mrs Curtis. She's gentle as she brushes out his hair, spraying to help smooth the way to untangle the knots. He's silent whenever she tugs, but she apologizes softly anyway.

He has to remind himself multiple times that he isn't in New York. It's not his mama brushing his hair.

At some point, Soda hands him a plate of..purple pancakes? The taller man chuckles at his confusion. Dallas chooses not to say anything.

He could fall back asleep like this, warm food in his stomach and a gentle hand on his head. It ends too soon for his taste.

"What color, baby?"
"Huh?"

"Blue!" Pony yells beside him.
"Nah! Do pink, it matches his eyes." Two-Bit argues.
"Bright green!" Steve shouts.
"Hell no!" Soda shouts after him.

"Boys! The poor boy is barely awake, stop overwhelmin' him!" Jane scolds.

Darrel Sr peers over his newspaper. "You got anything purple?"

Jane rummages for a bit, before holding up a light purple scrunchie. She shows it to Dallas, who just nods. His hair is tenderly pulled into a low ponytail, stray strands get tucked behind his ear.

He was seven the last time anyone brushed his hair for him.

The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Mrs. Curtis takes his empty plate with her when she gets up. He's not really sure what to do with himself.

Darry nods to his dad, who sets down his paper.

"Cmon kid, we're runnin' errands." Darry says, grabbing Dallas's arm and hauling him up before he can say anything.
"You boys have fun!" His mom calls from the kitchen.

He blinks as he watches the two Darrel's put on their shoes.

"Well? Get your shoes on." Darrel says. Dal decides his day can't possibly get weirder, and just complies.


Dallas ends up in the back of the car, listening to the fuck ass country that plays on the radio in Tulsa. The two bigger men up front chat away about everything.

He itches for a cigarette.

"Where are we goin'?" He asks.
"Just the store to pick up some stuff. You run outta stuff fast with seven growing boys in your house." Darrel says.

Dal flushes, growling. "Hey man, I didn't ask for nothin'."
"I didn't say that you did."

Darry glares at him, but a look from his dad gets him to stop. "So..how long you been in Tulsa?"
"Only two years now. I came down from New York."

"New York!?" Darrel shouts. "That's a long way to go!"
"So? I made it just fine."

"What's it like in the city?" Darry asks. He feels a bit childish asking, but he's excited dammit.

"Um..big, and loud. Expensive too. Plus, there's tons more people. I thought this town was abandoned when I first got here." That gets him a few chuckles.

"It's..safer here." He says quietly. "NYC is completely run by gangs, and they're always at war. Here, the worst you have is Tim Shepard, and I can kick his ass anyday."

The two older men don't look impressed like anyone else would be. In fact, they each have the same sympathetic look on their faces.

"You were..running around like that at Pony's age?" Darry asks quietly.
"Whatdya mean? I been runnin' the streets since I was ten."

There are more pitying looks. Dallas has no idea why they seem so upset.

"What about your folks?" Darrel Sr asks.
"What about 'em?"

"You got any?" Darry asks, turning to looks at him.

Dallas chews his lip. He barely knows these people, he can't be so vulnerable. But, then again, they're staring at him like he's something worth caring about.

He fidgets and chooses his words carefully.

"My ma..she overdosed when I was seven. My pops didn't have anything to do with me after." Not unless he needed a punching bag, or a..

"He just let you run around?" Darry asks, as if he can't even fathom it. Must be nice.
"He only gave a shit when he had to pick me up from the jailhouse. Fucker didn't even pick up the phone when I was twelve and got locked up the first time." The bitterness seeps into his voice.

He's giving away too much.

"At twelve..?" Darrel Sr shakes his head. "Some people don't deserve to be parents."

Dallas doesn't really know what to say to that. No one has ever reacted that way to his story. Then again, he usually doesn't spill so much, only the cool parts. They don't seem to think it's cool.

They pull up to the store before any more questions are asked. He's silently thankful for that.


"I'm gonna go and get the basics. You boys go on and pick a couple things, alright? Darry, go on and get the other boys' stuff too." Darrel Sr says. He leaves no room for arguments, even though Dally really wants to.

The old man speeds off with a cart, leaving the two boys alone.

"Didn't ask for nuthin'.." Dallas grumbles.
"He's just trynna see what you like. Ma and Pops like to keep our snacks stocked in the house." Darry says.
"I ain't one of your brothers."

"Maybe you should tell Ma that, 'cause she wants to adopt you anyway."

Before the argument continues, Darry speed walks away.

He's his daddy's son alright.

Dallas needs a smoke so damn bad. He might stop buy Tim's later to get some. With the new plan in mind, he heads to the snack aisle. A buttered up Tim is a generous Tim.

He grabs a bag of cheese puffs and a box of lemonheads for Tim. Then, a few packs of Now-or-Laters for himself.

He needs those damn smokes.

Dallas runs into Darrel Sr, dropping his things into the cart carelessly. It's already partly filled with the things needed to feed seven boys, a grown man, and a grown woman.

"Jesus, how much is this gonna cost?" Dally asks.
"You're a kid. You ain't gotta worry about that." Darrel Sr says.

Dal rolls his eyes. He's been worried about food since he was seven, thank you very much.

Darrel Sr stops and makes a show of staring longingly at the nice whiskeys.

"If only, am I right?" Darrel nudges him, but Dallas just tenses. They continue on their way.

Darrel Sr keeps up the chatter. Dal finally understands where Soda gets it from. The man keeps asking him questions. "Do you like this?" "What about this one?" "Do you eat these?"

Dallas tries not to snap at him, but he truly doesn't care what they eat. He doesn't plan on being in debt to them. Not more than he already is.

They're in the pasta isle when a group of kids, no older than twelve, start snickering and pointing.

Now, Dallas is used to this. He's used to people pointing and laughing. Used to kids asking their parents about aliens. Once, someone even took out an expensive camera—one that he stole.

Dallas is very aware of how he looks. He's probably the only albino person any of them have ever seen. So when the kids start yelling about an alien in the store, he knows better than to react.

Mr. Curtis doesn't know that.

He looks around at first, but then, he realizes the kids are laughing at Dallas. The blonde half expects him to agree or ignore them. He doesn't expect him to loom over them.

Darrel Sr is a huge man, the same size as his football player son.

"Do you kids have something to say?" He asks. "Where are your parents at, huh? Do you have nothing better to do during the day then be heartless?"

The kids sputter, stumbling over excuses. They eventually decide this isn't worth it and scamper off.

Dallas's jaw is on the floor, but Mr. Curtis just leads him to the next aisle.

"Why'd ya do that, man?" Dally asks.
"Those kids were being plain rude. I'm not gonna let them talk about you like that." The man says simply. As if he isn't the first person to ever defend Dallas like that.

The only reason the teen doesn't say anything else is because Darry comes over with a full basket. Dallas is quiet while the two Darrels talk about nothing and everything. He feels as though his world has been turned upside down and inside out.

His own father thinks he's a freak, so why does this stranger care? Why do any of them care?

Mrs. Curtis brushed his hair this morning. Soda made him food. His past made Darry upset on his behalf.

They have to be playing at something. There's no way they're just casually this nice to a stranger. Especially a stranger with a reputation like his.

Dallas is snapped out of his thoughts when a piece of chocolate cake is thrust in his direction. It's on top of a napkin, and fresh from the plastic container.

How Darry managed to cut it without a knife is beyond him.

"What? You don't like chocolate? It's kinda a staple at our place." Darry says. Dally doesn't respond, instead just taking the cake silently.

The three of them eat quietly on the way hom—to the Curtis house. Dallas does a lot of thinking during that time.

He disappears sometime during the unloading of the food. He returns around dinnertime; this time with a change of clothes, a pack of smokes, and an unsuspecting brown bag.

"Dallas! I don't appreciate when my boys are late for supper. It's seven o'clock, sharp." Jane tells him when he walks in.
"Apologies, ma'am." He says while taking off his shoes. She always looks pleased when he does. Meanwhile, Two-bit always has to be told multiple times to get his shoes off the furniture.

"You're okay, Honey. Just come and get some baked mac."

He throws his bag on the couch, setting the brown bag down more carefully. He joins the others at the table. It seems he's already got a designated seat. If he isn't careful, he might get too comfortable around here.

After dinner, everyone is sent to brush their teeth and go to bed. Soda, Steve, and Pony are in one room. Meanwhile Johnny is with Darry. Mrs. Curtis then sets up the couch for Dallas.

"I swear, I'm fixin' up the basement. I could probably build two more rooms down there." Darrel Sr says.

Dallas lets his hair down, tying the scrunchie around his wrist. He knows by now that Jane wouldn't accept it back. He coughs awkwardly as he grabs the brown bag.

"Are you okay, Honey? You're not gettin' sick are you?" Jane asks.
"Nah, I'm good.." Dallas murmurs while fidgeting with the bag.

Jane looks between him and the bag. She takes it carefully from him, and gapes at the top shelf bottle of Jack Daniel's inside.

"Dallas, where the hell did you get this?" She asks. Dallas looks away and carefully chooses not to answer. He's never been honest in his life, but he doesn't think his heart would survive having to lie to her.

"Dallas!"
"Ooh boy! This is top shelf!" Darrel Sr says while excitedly taking the bottle.

"For what happened at the store..no one's done that for me before." Dallas says quietly. He feels a bit stupid saying it.

Mr. Curtis softens, the playfulness leaving in favor of concern. "No one's defended you from no good bullies before?"

Dallas shakes his head, grateful for the way his long hair covers his face. He feels flustered, for some reason. It's not like he ever stole his dad any good booze. Nor has his dad ever stood up for him, in any situation.

"What happened at the store?" Jane asks softly.
"Just some kids who don't know how to mind their manners." Darrel Sr says simply. "Don't worry about it."

Jane squints and looks between them, but she must decide to let it go.

"Don't go stealin' anythin' anymore." She says. Dallas shrugs, giving a noncommittal hum.
"I appreciate this, Dallas. But you best listen to her." Darrel Sr says.

"Yessir."

Both Darrel and Jane freeze, staring in disbelief at Dallas. Instead of sticking around, Dal goes to the bathroom to change. If he sneaks a cigarette in there, well, he needs it.

Notes:

Dallas learn how to emote normally challenge

Chapter 3

Turns out, Darrel Sr was completely serious about fixing the basement.
It's not big by any means, but it's got a fresh coat of paint.

He sets it up with two beds, dressers, and shelves. One side of the room is reserved for Steve, and the other is for Dally.

For some reason, moving out of Buck's is bittersweet. His entire life fits inside a single backpack. The bartender sends him off with a ruffle of his hair and a promise that he'd keep his job.

Unpacking is somehow even sadder.

Dallas places his other three pairs of ratty jeans, five stained t-shirts, and handful of socks and boxers into his drawers. On his shelf, he places his rodeo hat and a single book—his worn copy of Little Women.

There. He's all unpacked.

He looks over at Steve's side of the room. His drawers are bursting with clothes thrown haphazardly inside. The shelves are packed with mechanic books and magazines, along with car figurines. The walls are plastered with more pictures of cars and women. Even his bed is covered in stuffed animals and colorful blankets.

Dallas looks back over at his own—barren—side of the room and frowns.

Jane must not like it either, because she walks in and immediately says, “Dallas, c'mon now, you gotta finish unpacking.”
“I am finished,” He says, shuffling a bit.

Jane looks at him, then at his side, then at him again.

“We'll go shoppin' this weekend. Okay, baby?”

Dallas shrugs. Whenever Jane or Darrel Sr refers to him by a nickname, he gets all fuzzy. Even the boys have started calling him 'Dally', which feels pretty nice.

He knows better than to argue about the shopping now. She won't take it. All he sees it as is more debt he owes to her and her husband. He doesn't understand why they insist on taking care of him.

Jane giggles and gestures to his book.

“You read? I didn't take you for the type.”

Dallas shrugs again. He's not about to tell her that he cried while reading it. His ego has taken too many hits under this roof already.

“Would you wanna go to Barnes & Noble? I take Pony there all the time. Might help you fill out your shelves.”

He's about to shrug again, when he realizes there's one more thing he has to unpack. Without a word, he scrambles for his backpack again.

Jane just watches in amusement, waiting for him.

Dallas carefully pulls out a wooden box, sitting down on the bed and setting it in his lap. Jane sits next to him and leans over for the big reveal.

It's a jewelry box, with velvet spaces for rings, necklaces, and bracelets. It's not too filled, but there are a couple vintage pieces. Pure silver rings, intricate bracelets from circa-decades-ago, and delicate silver necklaces. Every piece features real gems; diamonds, sapphires, rubies, pearls, and opal.

Jane gasps softly at the collection, marveling at the beauty.

Dallas traces his finger over the lid of the box. Inside are the letter 'M.W.' carved into the wood.

“Michelle. My ma's name,” Dally says softly.
“It's gorgeous, and her collection is, too.”

“She spent decades building it up, piece by piece. I hid it under the floorboards when my da started talking about pawning them off.”

“I'm glad you did. They deserve better than gettin' sold for a too-low price at some sleazy shop.”

Dallas nods. His hand unconsciously goes up to his St. Chris. The same initials are carved into the back of the metal. A final, parting gift to her son before she..

“Killed herself,” Dallas says. Jane gasps again, this time in surprise. Dal finds he's just as surprised, he didn't mean to say that out loud.

“Oh, baby, I'm so sorry.”

Maybe it's the situation, the memories. Maybe it's the way motherly concern drips off of Jane's voice. Either way, Dallas bursts into tears.

Jane is immediately taking him into her arms. She squeezes tightly and shushes him. He buries himself into her, trying desperately to push away the memories.

His mama, in the tub, wrists bleeding onto the porcelain. She was dead before he got out of school that day. That marked the end of him going to school consistently.

He allows himself a few minutes of Jane's comfort. Pretending it's his mama holding him. But, his mama is skinnier, and her hair is long and straight, like his. He can't pretend for long.

With a big final breath, he pulls himself out of Jane's arms. She's still got that worried look in her eyes, but she lets him go.

He chews his bottom lip, unsure of what to say. Jane breaks the ice for him.

“I'm makin' baked ziti for dinner. I think you'll like it,” She says softly.
“Never had it,” He admits. Even when she was around, his mama was a piss-poor cook.

“You'll love it. I haven't gotten a single complaint yet!”

He chuckles and nods, choosing to take her word for it. Even if he hates it, he wouldn't say. He's too grateful to have a home cooked meal.

Later that week, they do go shopping. He gets journals and writing supplies. The stop at Barnes & Nobel ends up in him getting about ten different books to pack onto his shelves. He gets, honestly, too many clothes; so much so that he sometimes finds it difficult to close his drawers.

Finally, he allows Jane to buy him a space-themed blanket that feels way too childish for a guy his age. Along with a white, red-eyed rat stuffed animal that takes up an embarrassing amount of space on his pillow.

Dallas is humiliated to admit that he's named the damn thing. Of course, only Michelle and him have to know that.

Chapter 4

Dallas gets back to the Curtis house at about 2am.

He's been working all day. Multiple races back-to-back, plus he had to help Buck with inventory. This week's pay is gonna be crazy, but it's not good for his back.

Or his schedule.

He creeps in as quietly as he can. The Curtis parents are no doubt asleep, as are most of the boys. Unless Pony or Johnny had a nightmare—Dallas has found they're both prone to them.

What he doesn't expect is both Jane and Darrel Sr. to be awake and sitting on the couch.

Jane hops right up when he walks in the door. Her mouth is open, but she stops when she sees him. He knows he's a damn mess.

His hair is down and tangled to shit. He's dirty from all the damn mud on the tracks and dust in the bar. Plus, he's covered in weird bruises from the physical labor.

She really doesn't have the heart to scold him when he looks so tired.

Darrel has no such reservations.

“Do you know what time it is?” He asks harshly.

Honestly? Dally has no idea. He just knows he wants a shower and to curl up with his stuffed rat, Michelle.

“Huh?” He responds eloquently.

“We've been waitin' up for you this whole damn time! You should know by now when curfew is! You should never be comin' in here at 2 o'clock!”

Dallas flinches back from him. He's gotten too used to the calmer version of Darrel that he's forgotten about the man who interrogated him when they first met.

Jane gets in between them. “Darrel, honey, take a breath.”

“No! He had us waitin’ up for hours! Poor Johnny could barely sleep!”

He's worried; she knows that. She is, too! But the yelling isn't going to help anyone, especially not the traumatized boy that they're housing.

She raises her voice as well. Trying so desperately to get Darrel to understand that she doesn't notice Dally's eyes going unfocused.

Suddenly, it's hard for Dally to remember where he is. The wooden floors and warmness of the Curtis house seem to morph.

There's concrete under him, surrounding him. He's small. He's so damn small, and Da is so big and so heavy and—

Someone grabs him.

NO! No! He can't do this again! He ran for a goddamn reason, and he promised himself he would never let anyone touch him again! Fucking never!

Dallas has always been all teeth and nails and fight. So he fights.

He decks whoever has their hand on his arm and hits the ground running.

The door slams behind him, shaking the house, but he couldn't care less. He sprints down the street, far away from his da.

 

Back at the house, Jane is standing over both Darrels in the living room.

Her husband has a guilty puppy look on his face, clearly realizing his mistake now. Meanwhile, her son looks mad as a bull.

She supposes she can't be upset with him, considering he's sporting a swollen cheek.

Jane hands her son some frozen peas to put on his bruise.

“…Kid's got a mean right hook,” Darrel says awkwardly. Darry glares at his dad, uncaring of manners for once.

“That's why I was tellin' you to calm down. Poor boy is probably terrified...” Jane scolds. Darrel looks down at his feet, clearly guilty.

Darry, on the other hand, growls. “I don't know why you're even housing that no-good hoodlum!”

Jane gasps. “Darrel Cheyanne!”

“It's the truth! He's no good! You should both know better! 

“Darrel, don't you talk to your mother that way—” Darrel Sr. starts.

“No! You were on my side in the beginning! Your stray mutt just decked me!”

“Darrel Cheyanne Curtis! Go to your room!” Jane yells.

“Fine!” Darry shouts back, storming off and slamming his door.

Jane stands there, red-faced and panting, before crumpling onto the sofa. Darrel wraps a comforting arm around his wife.

“I’m sorry...I just—the kid is the hardest challenge we’ve ever had. He worries me.”

Jane sighs. “I know, dear. There’s a reason I tell you to think of him like Johnny. That boy’s been through things…”

“I just feel like I’m messing everything up with him. This is so much harder than it is with Johnny or Steve,” Darrel says sadly. “Usually I know what to say...”

“I know you’re used to the boys adoring and looking up to you, but sometimes that takes time. Honey, I need you to listen to me on these things.”

Darrel just nods, guilt still eating away at him. All he can see is the pure terror in Dallas’s eyes. The boy was clearly lost in his head, and Darrel’s not sure he wants to know where—or when—he was lost in.

“Let’s try to sleep. Hopefully he pops back up in the morning,” Jane says softly.

Darrel has no choice but to follow his wife’s lead and hope that their boy is okay.

 

There’s banging on the door early the next morning.

Darrel and Jane are getting their kids ready for school. They’re midway through eating breakfast and packing lunches.

The boys are all tense, no doubt having heard the commotion last night. Not to mention the bruise Darry is still sporting. No one asks, though, either too scared or too tired to.

Jane is right at the door when she hears the knocking. Darrel is right on her heels.

Swinging open the door, she sees the bar owner, Buck, on her front porch.

“Buck?” She asks.

“Buck?!” Darrel repeats.

“What brings you here?” Jane asks.

“Think I have somethin’ o’ yers,” he says, stepping to the side to reveal Dallas. The teen is fidgeting and refuses to look up. “I ain’t babysittin’ outside work hours.”

Jane gasps softly, immediately pulling Dallas into a crushing hug. “Oh, baby. Are you okay?”

Dal tenses up, clearly not expecting the warm welcome. He doesn’t answer, but he does relax in her hold.

“Oh my lord, thank you so much, Buck. He ran off last night and—“

Buck cuts off Darrel Sr., “Don’t care. Just keep better track o’ yer strays. I only wanna see him durin’ his shift.” With that, the bartender walks off and gets back into his T-bird.

Darrel glowers, but he isn’t too concerned with his rudeness. He took care of Dallas, after all.

Jane corrals Dallas towards the kitchen. “C’mon now, let’s get some food in you, huh?” She doesn’t give him a moment to respond before forcing him into a chair and prepping him a plate.

Darrel Sr. walks over and ruffles the kid’s hair. He tries to ignore the way Dallas tenses up.

“We gotta have a talk ‘bout how late you get in, alright, kid?”

Dallas just hums in response.

“Are you the one who punched Darry?” Pony—with his big mouth—asks.

Dallas has the decency to look embarrassed, ducking his head to avoid Darry’s glare.

“Enough,” Jane cuts in while placing a plate of French toast in front of Dallas. “We’ll talk about that tonight. Everything is fine now.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’d rather die than have to listen to his excuses,” Darry spits. He drops his dishes into the sink and heads for the door.

“Darrel Cheyanne!” Jane calls after him, but he slams the door behind him. “That boy is going to be the death of me…eat your food, baby.”

Dallas, despite having no appetite after that, picks up his utensils.

“Is he on his period, or what?” Steve asks. Soda snorts beside him. The rest of the boys finally dissolve back into jokes and conversation.

Darrel kisses his wife goodbye before heading to work himself.

Eventually, Jane is herding the kids outside to the car. “Go on, git! Don’t be late for school!” Each boy is sent off with a lunch and a kiss to the head.

She turns to Dallas and raises an eyebrow. He tries to busy himself by starting on the dishes.

“Baby, you don’t have to. You should be gettin’ to school, too,” Jane says. She does pick up a cloth to dry and put the dishes away.

“I don’t go to school...” He mumbles, finding comfort in the warm water and soap suds.

“What do you mean you don’t go to school?”

“Stopped durin’ second grade.” It’s not like anyone in New York cared if he did or not. The teachers all knew he was doomed from the start.

“Well, that ain’t right. All my boys go to school.”

I’m not one of your boys.

What does it matter? I’m not going to be anything.

Why are you the only person who cares?

Dallas doesn’t say any of that; he just hums and focuses on the dishes.

Notes:

Honestly have chapter 5 & 6 basically done, so I’ll prolly drop those soon

Lemme know what you think of things so far, your feedback motivates me

Chapter 5

Dallas honestly doesn’t know what his life has become.

He’s piled into a car with the rest of the boys the Curtis’s claim ownership off. They’re heading towards the high school that they all go to. Dallas has a backpack in his arms filled with actual school supplies. Jane is tagging along today to enroll him in school.

He briefly entertains the idea that he might be dreaming.

Currently, the rest of the boys are telling him stories about the horrors of school.

“The workload is insane! It’s like the teachers are trying to kill us,” Soda whines.

“The work is easy, it’s the other kids that are the issue,” Pony argues.

“That’s only because you’re a nerd,” Steve insults.

Johnny mutters from his place in the middle, “I don’t think it’s so bad..it depends on the person..”

So far, Johnny is definitely his favorite.

When they arrive, the rest of the boys are sent to class. Meanwhile, Dallas and Jane are taken to the principal to get his schedule.

The fact that Jane greets the principal like an old friend is either a red flag or a really green one. Either way, Dallas walks out of the office with a schedule in hand.

Soda is standing outside, waiting for him.

“Sodapop will be the one to show you to class, if you have any questions, just ask him,” The principal—Georgia(?)—says.

Dallas nods silently. Jane leaves them with a hug each and a “be good.”

Soda grins almost ferally, grabbing Dally’s arm and dragging him down the hall.

The kid rambles the entire time.

“This is where we go when we want to sneak a smoke.”

“This class is off-limits after the fire.”

“We used to have chem class, but some kid drank magnesium, so now we don’t.”

He learns basically the entire history of the place by the time they get to his first class.

“Your first period class is math. The teacher should go easy on you since you’re new. Once the bell rings, stay here and I’ll come and get you.”

Dal nods along, deciding to just do whatever the hell Soda says he should. It’s surreal to even be back in a school after so long.

Soda slaps his back with a grin and runs off to get to his own class.

Dallas is ashamed when he finds he’s shaking as he opens the door. The entire classroom goes quiet, and twenty-one sets of eyes snap to him as he steps in.

All he can do is grip the strap of his backpack.

The math teacher—an older man with bright green eyes—greets him with a nod.

“Everyone! This is Dallas Winston! He’ll be joining us from here on out, I expect all of you to be on good behavior!”

Dallas doesn’t think he’s ever been so embarrassed in his life. Why the hell is this guy screaming?! He ducks his head, allowing his hair to curtain around his face, hopefully hiding his anxiousness.

“You can sit next to Nicholas—Nick! Raise your hand!”

A blonde with face piercings raises his hand. He doesn’t seem happy about it.

Dal can’t sit down fast enough. The teacher drops a heavy textbook in front of him, before going back to the front.

“Turn to page 257!”

Everyone else moves, so Dallas follows. The textbook has a bunch of words he doesn’t know and numbers upon numbers.

He glances around, but no one seems as lost as him. The teacher drones on about things he has no knowledge of. Dallas quickly realizes he’s not going to learn anything just listening the guy talk.

Instead, he pulls out one of the fancy push pencils Jane gave him, flips to the beginning of the chapter, and gets to reading.

For the next forty minutes, Dallas slowly teaches himself the material. He even pulls out one of the notebooks to write the information in. He’s writing fucking math notes.

By the end of the period, Dallas knows enough to actually attempt the problems on page 257. He finds it’s not as hard as it looks.

Suddenly, a paper is thrust in his vision.

“I expect your homework done by next class! No more excuses!” The teacher shouts.

Homework? What the fuck..

He sees the other kids putting their papers in folders or stuffed into their bags. Dallas quickly does the same, stuffing it into one of the folders. He’s not really sure what to do with the textbook, so he just stuffs that in his bag, too.

The class seems to be over, after that. Only, no one is doing anything or leaving.

He quickly learns why when the bell rings.

Dallas shoots right out of his seat, and he’s not the only one. He doesn’t think the others have a jerk reaction from juvie or prison, though. For a split second, he’s back in the can—being beaten, abused, controlled.

The others are rushing out, so Dallas follows, trying to play off his mini-panic attack.

Soda is waiting for him when he steps out, Steve is grumpily standing next to him.

“What’s your next class?” Soda asks with a smile. 

Dallas doesn’t know how he’s so happy all the time. He doesn’t say that, instead he just hands over the paper again.

“Oh shit,” He says. Dallas feels his heart drop.

Steve leans over and scrunches his face in disgust. “You have English with Ms. Patons. She’s a total bitch.”

“Language,” Soda scolds. “But, yeah, she’s a monster. Your best bet is to make yourself as small as possible so she doesn’t focus on you.”

“Or you could just skip.”

“He can’t skip a class on the first day!”

Dallas follows the two of them while they bicker about the benefits of skipping or not skipping. He ducks his head again to try and avoid the eyes on him. He hears whispers of “new kid” and “pale freak” and he knows this school thing isn’t going to end well.

“Welcome to hell,” Steve says while gesturing to a classroom door.

“Maybe she’ll go easy on you, since you’re new,” Soda tries, but he doesn’t sound like he believes himself.

Dallas just nods again and heads inside. He feels all those eyes on him again, so he dials up the swagger. He’s not some scared kid, he’s Dallas fucking Winston.

“Hello? Can I help you?” Ms. Patons asks rudely, already glaring at him.

“Dallas Winston. I’m new,” He says simply.

“Well, find a seat.” Faintly, he hears her mutter something under her breath.

He struts to the farthest available seat from her. Even if it’s fake, if he can fool actual hoods in prison, than he can fool idiot high schoolers.

Just like the last teacher, a textbook is dropped in front of him and she starts class. Every time she looks at him, she sneers in disgust. Dallas is used to it—a low life hood is all he’s ever been.

Thankfully, the idiot high schoolers leave him be. Unfortunately, the teacher doesn’t.

“Derek? Derek? Hello!?” Ms. Patons raises her voice.

This Derek guy must be fucking deaf or stupid. Dallas looks up, only to find she’s staring at him.

“Derek,” She spits.

“My name is Dallas. Derek isn’t even close,” He says.

He sees the vein in her forehead. A hum goes through the classroom. Teenagers are drama hungry no matter where they are.

“The answer to the question on the board.”

“How the hell would I know? I just got here.” He crosses his arms and slumps in his seat.

“Listen, I don’t care where you came from. I’ve taught hundreds of prison-bound hoodlums like you. I’m not tolerating any attitude,” Ms. Patons rants.

There a few gasps around the classroom, and all eyes are on him.

“Just because your husband left you for a younger woman doesn’t mean that you can take it out on me. I understand menopause can make you snappy, but maybe it’s time you retire, huh?”

The class erupts, laughter and chatter filling the room.

Ms. Patons looks at him, seething. Silently, she pulls out a pink slip, scribbles something, and then slams it onto his desk.

Dally squints down at the paper. He’s not sure what “detention” means, but it doesn’t seem good.

Thankfully, the bitch leaves him alone for the rest of class.

His next class goes smoothly. The history teacher is a happy-go-lucky man that reminds Dallas of Mr. Curtis.

Soda then grabs him for lunch. Dallas finds himself being dragged to a table near the back. Steve and Two-Bit are already sitting there waiting for them.

“The eleventh and twelfth graders eat first, then the younger grades,” Soda explains.

“Thank god. I can’t handle being around those brats,” Steve says with an eye roll.

Two-Bit chuckles, mumbling something around his lunch. Dallas notices he has a tray, meanwhile Steve and Soda are pulling brown bags from their backpacks. Then, he remembers he has a bag, too.

Jane Curtis packed their damn lunches. Dallas has never had a packed lunch before in his life.

It’s decent stuff, too. A PB&J, an orange, some water, and even a small dessert. Dallas likes the occasional sweet, but he can’t imagine eating one with every single meal like this family seems to.

Two-Bit must see the way he’s looking at the package of donuts, because he asks, “You gonna eat that?”

Dally looks at him, and at the two more trays he’s somehow acquired. He just raises an eyebrow and drops the pack into his waiting hand.

Two-Bit pumps his fist, and Steve is immediately ordering he split it.

Soda laughs at their shenanigans. He turns that smile on Dallas. “So, how was Ms. Patons?”

“Oh!” Dallas suddenly remembers the pink paper she gave him, and quickly pulls it out. “She gave me this. Not sure what it’s about, though.”

Soda seems to be in shock while looking at the paper. It even gets the attention of Steve and Two-Bit. The two of them dissolve into laughter.

“No way you got detention your first day!” Two-Bit shouts.

This only furthers his confusion.

“You don’t even know what that means, huh?” Steve asks with a lazy smile.

“I’ve been detained. It is the same as that?” Dallas asks with his own smirk.

Soda hums. “Actually, kinda. You have to stay an hour after school to ‘think about your actions’ or whatever.”

“Sounds stupid,” Dallas says, focusing on peeling his orange.

“It is! They give me detention every day over nothing!” Two-Bit complains.

“They give you detention because you’re a fucking idiot,” Steve says.

Dallas finds he’s growing used to the loud arguments and laughter. In fact, he’s growing slightly fond of it.

 

Soda is nice enough to guide him to detention after school. He leaves with a promise to tell Mom what happened. Dallas both hates and loves that Soda thinks of Mrs. Curtis as all of their mom.

Dallas hesitantly heads into the classroom. His entire body relaxes when he sees a different teacher than Ms. Patons.

This woman is closer to Mrs. Curtis in age. She has long, braided hair that he’s only seen before in New York. ‘Box braids’ he thinks they were called. Dallas is shocked to find some of her skin is dark, while some patches are white.

He vaguely wonders if it’s a condition like albinism.

The woman looks up and gives him a smile. “Dallas Winston?” He nods. “I’m Fiona Bailey, it’s nice to meet you. I understand it’s your first day, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah..” He ducks his head again.

“Ms. Patons is quite the character, isn’t she?”

“She called me a prison-bound hoodlum,” He says bitterly before he can think about it. Ms. Bailey gets very quiet, before nodding slowly.

“Well, I don’t think that’s appropriate. Please, just sit anywhere. You can work on homework or read or anything you’d like. I’ll be right back.”

With that, Ms. Bailey leaves him in the room, alone.

Dallas hesitantly sits near the middle of the room. Thankfully, his other classes aren’t that heavy on homework. At least, not until they know he understands the material.

He finishes his math and biology work—only struggling on the math, since his biology teacher took time to teach him shit.

Then, he pulls out his copy of ‘Good Wives’, one of the sequels to the best book of all time, ‘Little Women’ (Dallas is willing to die on this hill). Mrs. Curtis took him to the bookstore, leaving him with about ten more books, but he’s already run through all of them.

This is actually his second read of ‘Good Wives’.

He’s in the middle of blinking away tears due to Beth’s depression, when Ms. Bailey makes her presence known.

“I love Louisa May Alcott, she’s one of my favorite authors.”

Dallas barely suppresses a jump at her sudden appearance. He looks up at her blankly.

“Which sequel do you like better? I’m partial to ‘Good Wives’, but ‘Jo’s Boys’ is such a different tone. It might be my favorite.”

“Your favorite!?” Dallas asks in disbelief. “Jo’s Boys, despite having some heartwarming story telling, is a mess compared to the beautiful writing of Little Women, or even the happy-go-lucky feel of Little Men! Louisa Alcott was dying of mercury poisoning while writing it, and she was under pressure to complete the series, so it’s obviously rushed and unfinished. There are too many plot points all at once that don’t come together! Not to mention what she did to Dan in the—“ 

Dallas suddenly snaps his mouth shut, turning completely pink. He’s never gotten carried away like that before.

Ms. Bailey is smiling at him, having settled in the desk in front of him.

“It’s not often I find such passionate readers. What else do you like?”

“Um…I don’t know..” Dallas mumbles. He’s still embarrassed about his outburst.

“How do you not know?” She asks gently. He just shrugs, still not looking up.

“Would you like recommendations?” 

That gets his head to snap back up. “Huh?”

“I have pretty extensive knowledge about books. I could lend you some when you’re finished your read,” She says with a smile.

Before Dallas can even think about it, the announcements come on. The principal declares detention over.

Ms. Bailey smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dallas.”

He’s quickly herded out of the room. Honestly, he feels like he’s floating as he heads outside. The whiplash continues when he sees Steve and Soda there, waiting by Steve’s car to pick him up.

“How was detention?” Soda asks.

“…not so bad, actually. Solitary is way worse,” He responds, letting a lazy smirk grow on his face.

The next morning, Dallas is dragged back to the principal’s office and given a new schedule. This time, for second period English, he sees he has Ms. Bailey as his teacher.

When she sees him, he’s handed a worn copy of ‘Pride & Prejudice’ with a smile.

Notes:

Dallas and his love for Little Women is my Roman Empire

Chapter 6

Notes:

Little short one to tide y’all over

I wanted to explore the actual Curtis parents a bit, so I hope you enjoy my headcanons about them

PLUS Dally bonding with everyone!!

“I know you took it you little thief!”

“I didn’t touch anything! I’ve never even been in your room!”

“You probably pawned it somewhere like the criminal you are!”

“Get the fuck out of my face before I punch you again!”

Darrel Sr. sighs heavily from the arm chair. Down the hall, Darry and Dally are screaming at each other.

Usually, he lets the boys work out their own problems, but this one might actually get physical. He knows that yelling will probably scare Dallas, so he turns to Johnny.

“John, can you tell those two idiots to come here, please?”

Johnny smiles slightly and nods. He heads down the hall, only coming back with two mad as hell teens in tow.

“Are y’all gonna tell me what all this damn yellin’ is about?”

Darry, of course, opens his mouth first. “Your mutt stole from me!”

“Darrel Cheyanne, I’mma give you one minute to fix how you talk. Now tell me what happened without all the attitude and insults.”

This time, Dallas beats him to it. “He thinks I stole something from him, when I’ve never even been near his room!”

“Who else could’ve taken it, huh!?”

“What’s missin’, Darry?”

“My championship ring. The one I got from Paul.”

Ah, so that’s why he’s so up in arms. Honestly, both him and Jane have speculated that Paul meant a little bit more to Darry than his other friends.

“And you’ve looked everywhere for it?”

“Yes! I’ve checked my whole room! It’s gone!”

“You ask your other brothers?” Darrel asks, although he knows the answer.

“I don’t need to! I know he took it!”

“I didn’t fucking do anything!” Dallas all but screeches into his face.

God, if that kid gets too worked up, there could be a serious problem. Jane theorized that the kid might have had a flashback that night when he ran off. The last thing Darrel wants is to send him into another one.

“Dallas, why don’t you go find Jane, huh? Johnny, can you ask your other brothers if they’ve seen Junior’s ring?”

Johnny nods and quickly escapes deeper into the house. He’s eager to get away from the fighting. Dallas—although he scowls and huffs—still listens to Darrel. He storms down the hall to the Curtis parent’s room.

Finally, Darrel gestures for his son to sit down, and then sits next to him.

“What’s really goin’ on, kid?”

“What’s goin’ on is that your new stray is bad news,” Darry grumbles, making sure to mind his tone.

“You didn’t react this way with Steve or Two-Bit, and they’re both troublemakers.”

“They don’t have actual rap sheets!” 

Darrel Sr. raises an eyebrow at him. “The kid is sixteen, Junior.”

“You don’t hear what he says when you’re not around! He’s been running around the country with no supervision, stealing and pawning things since he was a kid!”

“He’s still a kid, Darrel Cheyanne. He’s younger than Sodapop. You don’t need to be worried about him,” Darrel says gently.

Darry crosses his arms and slumps down. “I still don’t trust him. He’s a bad influence.”

“That ‘bad influence’ is your kid brother, Junior. You oughta start actin’ like it.”

Darry opens his mouth to argue some more, when the door swings open. Soda struts in with his shadow Steve, a shiny piece of gold glittering on his finger.

“Is that my damn ring!?” Darry yells.

Soda jumps, clearly not expecting Darry to be right there when he walked in. A guilty grin grows onto his face. 

“Hey-eyyy, Dar..”

Darry seethes. Steve smirks. Soda sweats.

Then, Darry lunges. 

Soda takes off down the hall, Darry hot on his tail.

Darrel resigns to let them wrestle it out. He knows they know their own limits.

“Afternoon, Stevie Wonder. I’d advise you to get out of the crossfire.” He nods to Steve while grabbing his newspaper. 

The boy grins at him. “That’s the best part.” Then, he takes off after Soda and Darry.

Darrel can only roll his eyes fondly at his boys. He heads down the hall to he and his wife’s room. He isn’t surprised to find Dallas still there.

Jane is quietly teaching Johnny how to braid hair while they listen to the radio. It seems Dallas is a willing practice dummy, considering all the tiny braids littering his blonde head.

Jane looks up and smiles at him. “Hello, dear.”

“Hi Mr. Curtis,” Johnny says absentmindedly, focused on his braiding.

Dally looks up and eyes him warily. It sort of reminds him of a dog protecting their territory.

His wife is always comparing him and Johnny. If Johnny is a kicked puppy, then Dallas is a guard dog. Each a stray in their own right. The differences are stark, but they’re still more similar than you could imagine. It’s a bit poetic, and a lot heartbreaking.

“Soda had the ring,” Darrel says, settling in the armchair in the corner.

“Ah, is that what that screaming is about?” Jane asks with a small smile.

“Pretty sure Steve joined, which means Pony ain’t far behind.” Pony will take any excuse to wrestle with Steve Randle.

Jane sighs, shaking her head with fondness. “Thank the lord for at least givin’ me two quiet boys.”

Both Johnny and Dally preen under the subtle praise.

Darrel Sr. notes a bit of sadness in her tone. He sees how her eyes fill with longing as her fingers brush through Dally’s long hair.

Jane has always wanted to raise girls. Before they had Darry, she carried a baby girl—Sophia. Their only daughter was stillborn, in Heaven before they could really meet her.

Now, they have six and a half teenage boys to look after.

It’s the little things that fill the void.

Soda’s interest in makeup and fashion—teaching him how to do eyeliner and which fabrics clash.

Teaching Darry how to cook, and having him get confident enough to shoo her out of the kitchen.

Steve learning how to knit, and him surprising her with a sweater every single Christmas. It’s watching each one get better and better quality.

It’s watching Two-Bit take every bit of parenting advice, slowly learning to be a better caretaker for his sister and brothers. 

Hushed conversations with Johnny about boys, terror and hope heavy in the air.

It’s braiding Dally’s hair, gentle and precise. Being able to go to the store and think ‘which clips would work best with his hair type?’ ‘Which products?’

Every little thing builds until the ache of loss doesn’t feel so heavy.

Darrel stands, going over to sit by his wife and two sons. He kisses her temple, and looks down at Dallas’s too-white hair.

“Jeez, I don’t know how you do it that small. My fingers are too fat for it,” He jokes.

“It’s really not so hard, Mr. C,” Johnny says softly. “I could show you?”

The hope in Johnny’s voice always breaks his resolve.

“I don’t think I’ll be as good as you,” Darrel Sr. says, but he dives in anyway.

Dallas tenses up for a split second when his hands touch his hair, as if he’s expecting pain. He quickly relaxes when Johnny’s soft voice starts his instructions.

By dinner time, he’s a half-decent braider. Not to mention, Dallas doesn’t seem as jumpy as before.

Darry makes some mean Mac and cheese and chicken for dinner. Him serving Dallas first feels like an apology.

For once, Darrel Sr. feels like he’s got this parenting thing down.

Notes:

I hope y’all are ready for Darry and Dally’s big chapter

Chapter 7

Darry doesn't trust his parents' newest stray.

They have a habit of bringing random kids home and just keeping them.

Usually, the kids aren't so bad. In fact, he calls them his brothers now. But, this one? He's bad news.

Some punk with a record suddenly moves from a big city like New York to a shitty town like Tulsa? It’s way too fishy to ignore. Unfortunately, his parents seem blind to it.

All his other brothers worship the ground Dallas Winston walks on. They all think he's the coolest thing to ever happen to this town. Like he’s the tuffest guy they’ve ever met.

It doesn't sit right with him that they're all idolizing a guy who's hobbies include stealing, drinking, and hating the world.

Something ugly curls in his chest as he watches him interact with his brothers.

Dallas is sitting on the back porch banistar. Pony is obviously trying to copy him—he's even smoking a Winston, the damn copycat. 

Even worse, their pet, Johnny, has taken a shine to him. He looks at him as if he hung the stars, quickly becoming his shadow.

Dallas is in the midst of telling a story to the awestruck boys. His hands swing in wide movements as he speaks. He’s a very animated story teller.

Looking past the reason for his irritation, Darry sees that Steve and Soda are in the backyard tussling like usual. Meanwhile, Two-Bit is sitting on the stairs, drinking and half listening to the story as well.

Like hell he’s going to let that punk steal his best friend, too.

Darry grabs Two-Bit by the arm and drags him up and inside the house. He whines the whole way, but Darry isn’t having it.

“Just shut up and c’mon!”

Two’s mouth snaps shut at Darry’s irritation. Not for the first time, he’s grateful for how well Two knows him.

“What’s goin’ on, man?” Two asks, a surprisingly serious look on his face.

“What’s going on?” Darry repeats sarcastically. “My parents are housing a criminal!”

“You mean Dally?”

“Look! You guys already have nicknames for him! He showed up only weeks ago and now everyone is obsessed with him!”

Two-Bit frowns, his face scrunching up. “Are you jealous?”

Darry flushes, embarrassed at the call out. Not for the first time, he hates how well Two knows him.

“No! I just—I don’t trust him, okay? I don’t trust him around my baby brothers! He’s probably corrupting them!”

“I don’t know, Dar,” Two-Bit rubs the back of his neck, “He seems like a good kid. He’s just rough around the edges.”

“Ugh! You’re just as brainwashed as the rest of them! He’s a JD with a record and bad intentions!”

“Listen, Dar. I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you, but you gotta chill. He’s a kid younger than Soda and you’re grown.”

“Stop acting like you’re the mature one between us, Two. You’re clearly too drunk to see what’s obviously in front of you!” Darry yells.

He doesn’t see how Two’s face falls, because he’s spinning around on his heel and storming off. If no one will listen to him, then Darry sees no reason to stick around.

Very quickly, Darry realizes he has nowhere to go.

His best friend is currently at the house, and he just pissed him off.

See, Darry is a sociable person! He has tons of friends. Just..none close enough that he could go to their house and complain about the teenager ruining his life.

For a second, Paul flashes in his mind.

Fuck Paul. Fuck all the socs that dropped him once they graduated highschool.

He thought Paul was different. Not like the others socs that looked down on his family.

But really, Paul thought Darry was different. He thought Darry was going to follow him to college no problem. 

Things got messy between them.

Whatever! Darry doesn’t need fake assholes anyway. He doesn’t need anyone. He’s fucking—

“Superman!”

Darry stops, allowing Tim Shepard to catch up to him.

Darry’s friendship—if you can call it that—with Tim is tentative. Tim is eighteen with a record that’s probably longer than Dally’s. He’s always been more hood than greaser, so Darry tries to keep him at arm’s length.

“Shit, what’s got you so pissed?” Tim asks, already sporting a smirk.

Despite his hesitance, Darry has no one else to talk to. Tim has a younger brother, so he must understand the want to protect them from bad influences. (And the jealously when they stop looking to you as the cool older brother).

“My parents brought home another stray.”

“Shit, for real? Where the hell do they find ‘em all?”

“I have no idea,” Darry says with a sigh. “We barely have enough space or money as is.”

“I’m guessin’ you don’t like the little brat?”

Darry rolls his eyes. “He’s a criminal with a record that could probably rival yours. Everyone in the house worships the ground he walks on! It’s so annoying!”

Tim hums, nodding. “So, you’re jealous?”

He stops, turning to glare Tim. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just sayin’!”

“He’s a bad influence on my brothers and I don’t trust him! He’s a no-good hood—“

“Doesn’t Two-Bit also have a record? And isn’t he also a terrible influence on your brothers?”

Darry starts sputtering, trying to explain the difference. Clearly, Tim doesn’t get it as well as he thought he would.

“Who’s the brat anyway? I haven’t heard of a new family moving in,” Tim says.

“His name is Dallas Winston, and—“ Darry flinches when Tim snaps to look at him, his eyes wide.

“Dal’s at the Curtis house!?” 

“Why? You know him?”

Tim ignores his question. He clenches his fists, and scowls. “He had me lookin’ for him at Buck’s like an idiot!”

“What the hell is going on?”

Tim sucks in a deep breath through his teeth. “Yeah, Dal’s a buddy of mine.”

“Of course,” Darry says sarcastically. Hoods have to stick together, after all.

“He’s a good kid, Darry. A little rough around the edges, but he’s not some hood.”

“Yeah, of course you’d say that. You’re just as much of a hood as he is!”

Suddenly all of Darry’s anger is back full force. There’s not a person in all of Tulsa that seems to be on his side.

“He ain’t, Darry! I get that you’re jealous you ain’t got your mama’s full attention now, but Dal fuckin’ deserves it!”

Darry scoffs. “Oh, he deserves it!?”

Tim gets up in Darry’s face, looking more emotional than he’s ever seem him. The look in his eyes is feral and protective.

“Yes! He fucking does!”

“Dal’s been through too much, Darry! If anyone deserves to have people like the Curtis folks in their corner, it’s him!”

When he opens his mouth, Tim cuts him off again.

“He hasn’t had a single person who cared about him in entire life! He’s suffered more than most grown men have! Just—let him fucking have this!” Tim’s voice cracks towards the end, Darry almost flinches when he hears it.

Finally, Tim turns and storms off. “Come find me when you aren’t such a jealous prick, Darrel!”

Darry watches Tim stomp off. His head is reeling by how quickly that escalated. One good thing about Tim is, he always seems to kick Darry’s ass.

The Shepard’s are close knit. They don’t just care about anyone, especially not so openly. Clearly, Darry must be missing something.

It’s a bad feeling.

Even fucking Tim seems to see this amazing thing in Dallas that he doesn’t.

 

It’s late when Darry gets in. He ended up spending the day at the park.

Since he’s older, his curfew is later. Meaning, almost everyone has been sent to bed already. He doubts most of them are sleeping, but the feigned privacy is still nice.

Darry is honestly looking forward to eating dinner and going to sleep. He doesn’t want to think about Dallas for the rest of the—oh come the fuck on.

The object for his frustration is currently in the kitchen.

Dallas is staring at the kitchen table. As he gets closer, Darry can see he’s shaking.

The last thing he wants is to grab him and get punched again. (That shit hurt last time.) So, Darry clears his throat from the safety of the doorway.

Dallas almost jumps right out of his chair. He whips around quickly, his eyes wide and feral. He gives Darry a full view of the tears staining his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Darry asks, mostly out of habit. He’s seen enough nightmares from his brothers to know when someone’s had one.

Dallas doesn’t answer. He just continues to stare at Darry.

Quickly, he realizes the kid must be dissociating. It happens a lot to Pony after a nightmare. Comparing Dallas to his baby brother is strange, but it’s true.

“Dallas? Do you know where you are right now?” Darry asks, carefully approaching the teen.

He blinks, shaking his head. “What?”

Slowly, Darry reaches out his hand and places it on Dally’s shoulder. “Do you know where you are?”

“I-I’m..” Dallas blinks. Suddenly, it’s as if he’s seeing Darry for the first time.

He turns pink and swipes at his cheeks. He curses under his breath in embarrassment.

“Are you okay, kid?” Darry asks, the nickname slipping out.

“I’m fine,” Dallas snaps, “I just—I’m fine..”

Darry sits down in the chair next to him. “You have a nightmare?”

“Why do you care?”

“You expect me to leave you alone while you’re scared and crying?”

“You hate me. What does it matter?”

Darry is taken aback. He wasn’t expecting to be called out like that. He’s always underestimating how observant some people can be.

“I don’t hate you, I just—“

“You don’t want me around, I know. I just don’t know why you’re being so secretive about it.”

“What do you mean, kid?”

“This is your house, your family. I’m just some stray.”

Darry attempts not to flinch at the use of that word, but Dallas keeps talking.

“They won’t care if you hurt me, so why don’t you just get it over with?”

What?

“What?”

Dallas scowls at him. “Don’t play dumb! You hate me, you want me gone!”

“That doesn’t mean I want to hurt you!” Darry almost shouts.

This time, it’s Dallas that looks shocked.

“Why not?”

“Why no—I’m not a monster!”

The look on Dallas’s face goes from shocked to painfully confused. As if, he can’t comprehend that someone doesn’t want to hurt him.

“He’s suffered more than most grown men have!”

Darry is suddenly nauseous thinking about the implications. He knows how abuse affects people. Two of his kid brothers were abused by the people who were supposed to love them the most. He’s brought Johnny down from panic attacks and held Steve while he silently cried.

If he can comfort them, then he can be there for Dallas.

“I don’t hate you, kid. It’s just..rough getting used to having another person in the house. I can admit, I’m a bit protective sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I want to hurt you.”

Dallas scrubs at his face with his sleeve again. “I don’t understand..”

“I know it’s a lot to get used to, but no one in this house wants to hurt you, I promise.”

He doesn’t look like he fully believes Darry, but no more arguments are made. 

“Why don’t you head to bed, kid? You got school in the morning.”

Dallas nods, allowing Darry to guide him to his room with a firm hand.

Steve is dead asleep, faintly snoring. Also in his bed is Soda, who is lying practically on top of him. They’re both sprawled out and tangled in his blankets.

Darry snorts at the state they’re in, and goes over to fix them. He tucks the boys in, making sure all their limbs are actually on the bed.

Dallas is sitting quietly on his own bed. Darry can’t help but notice how empty it is compared to Steve’s—save for a single albino rat plush. (His mom must really think she’s funny.)

Darry just looks at him expectantly until Dallas hesitantly lays down as well. He’s tense as Darry tucks him in, same as Steve and Soda.

“Try to get some sleep, kid,” He says before leaving.

Waiting for him in the living room is his pops, with a knowing look on his face.

“…he kinda grows on you, huh?” Darrel Sr. says.

“Yeah..he kinda does. Like a fungus,” Darry jokes.

Darrel chuckles. “Go to bed, young man.”

Darry goes to bed that night feeling lighter than he has in weeks. Maybe—just maybe—there’s more to Dallas than he thought.

Notes:

Finally, Darry stops being a petty bitch and actually tries to connect to Dally

Two-Bit calling Darrel “Dar” vs Tim calling Dallas “Dal” FIGHT!!

Btw I gave the Curtis house another bedroom.
The Curtis parents have the main room, and Dally & Steve are in the basement.

Technically, Soda & Darry share a room, but Soda never sleeps in his bed. He’s always with someone else (usually Pony or Steve)

Chapter 8

Notes:

What’s an outsiders fic without some corporal punishment?

Dallas—both to his excitement and chagrin—is really settling in with the Curtises.

The thought makes him antsy. He’s never stayed in one place for long. Settling down and staying somewhere just isn’t something he’s thought about.

It’s part terrifying and part hope-inducing.

Of course, that’s not to say there aren’t any challenges.

Getting used to how loud it is all the time was hard. It brought back bad memories of New York and juvie. Dallas quickly learned to tune out all the fighting—verbal or otherwise—between the brothers.

In fact, he’s recently started participating in the wrestling matches.

Another thing he’s had to get used to are everyone’s quirks.

Johnny is by far his favorite person in the house.

The kid is quiet, almost concerningly so. He doesn't get in anyone's way, never causes problems, and fades into the background most of the time.

That's probably why Dallas notices him so much.

From a young age, Dally had to learn that the guys that fly under your radar are the most dangerous. It's left him hypervigilant to the quiet types.

Something he quickly learned is that, Johnny is actually just soft-spoken. There's nothing hiding beneath the way he acts.

Honestly, Dallas is pretty protective over the kid. He reminds him of himself, before he got cold and hard. Before he learned to hate the world.

If there's one person he likes to hang out with, it's Johnny.

On the other end of the spectrum is the loud-mouth Two-Bit.

Two-Bit doesn’t live there, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t obnoxious. He demands they watch Mickey Mouse all the time, and he always kind of smells like alcohol. His jokes also go from kind of funny to really grating very quickly.

Even worse? Darry is apparently his best friend. How that happened, Dallas has no clue.

While he and Darry have reached a bit of a truce, they still aren’t close. They’re just..learning to co-exist.

Well, that’s what Dally is trying to do. It seems Darry has taken after his parents and is trying to adopt him or something. He plays as a third parent to the rest of the boys. The overprotective older brother shit is slowly extending to him as well.

It’s honestly grating, especially since he barely lets Jane and Darrel Sr parent him.

Soda…what can he say about Soda? The guy is really happy. Like, freakishly happy, all of the time.

He was the first to accept Dallas as a brother, even giving him the nickname 'Dally'.

He's got this carefree vibe about life that Dallas can never understand. Like, he really enjoys being alive for some reason.

Soda is usually balanced out by his best friend Steve.

Steve—the guy he calls his roommate—is one of the more tolerable guys. He’s quiet and mostly sticks to himself. He and Dallas have a bit of a silent agreement to stay out of each other’s way.

He isn't happy-go-lucky like Soda. In fact, he can be pretty cynical. Dallas appreciates the realness from him.

Pony is...Pony.

He's the youngest, and can be a bit of a brat. Dally enjoys his sarcasm and dry humor, but finds himself annoyed whenever Pony acts childishly.

It's not like he can blame the kid, though. Dallas remembers being thirteen and angry at the world. It's just obnoxious to see it from the outside, especially when he knows how good the kid has it.

Like right now, the kid is mouthing off to his mom again. Why he would disrespect such an amazing lady, he doesn't know.

“C’mon, that ain’t fair!”

“It is perfectly fair, and I don’t wanna hear another word of it.”

Dally likes that Jane is so gentle, but he wishes she would smack Pony and get it over with. The tight ball of anxiety in his chest is only growing the longer the fighting goes on.

He tries to play it cool, act like his palms aren’t sweating and his legs aren’t ready to move. To get him out of this house, just in case.

“You’re actin’ crazy, Ma!”

“Ponyboy Michael! I ain’t playin’ with you!”

Dally can’t keep playing it cool.

Steve and Johnny keep giving him knowing looks. In fact, they look a bit anxious themselves. The last thing Dallas wants to think about is what they all have in common.

“Ow!”

Dallas jumps, sitting up straight. He watches Jane drag Pony out of the kitchen by is ear, and then down the hall.

Two-Bit tsks. “Poor kid is gonna get the throttling of his life.”

“RIP, Pone. We’ll miss ya,” Soda jokes.

“He needs to show some respect, or it’s gonna get worse for him,” Darry comments with a shake of his head. “I’d hate for him to be on the business end of Pop’s belt.”

“Darry,” Steve says sharply. He subtly jerks his head towards Dallas.

The blonde hasn’t looked away from the hallway. Every comment by the other boys has his heart thundering in his chest.

He thought this place was different.
He thought he was safe here.

Dallas needs to run, to leave, to skip the state and get so far away from here so his da’s voice stops ringing in his ears—

“Dally?”

His eyes snap to Johnny.

“You okay?”

He takes a breath, tries to keep it cool. “I’m cool, man.”

“Then, why are you shaking?” Steve asks. Forget every good thing Dallas said about him, he hates that guy.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Dallas snaps.

Steve is just as much of a mutt as he is. Who does he think he is, looking down on him? He can keep that snarky attitude to himself.

“You know they ain’t like that. The Curtises are good.”

“Shut the fuck up, kid.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “I’m older than you.”

Dallas scowls at him. “Does it look like I give a—“

“Woah! Let’s all just calm down some!” Two says.

Dallas stands and storms to his room. The only thing on his mind is that he needs to escape. He can’t stay here—he won’t! They can’t make him!

“Dally..” Johnny says softly, standing awkwardly in the room. “They’re really not like that. Swear.”

The blonde just narrows his eyes at him, pausing his packing.

“They do spank ‘em sometimes, but only when they’re bein’ real bad.”

“Do you even hear yourself!?”

Johnny flinches, but stands his ground. “I’m bein’ serious. They ain’t never done it to me, Dally. And-And Steve only gets it with someone’s hand, never a belt or brush. They listen when you ain’t ready, or you’re scared.”

Dallas stands there, staring at him. He’s feels like he’s at war with himself.

What if he’s telling the truth?
What if he’s lying?

They care, don’t they? They gave you a home, a future, a chance. Can you even take that chance? What if they’re the same as—

Footsteps make both boys jump. Jane steps into the room with a concerned look on her face.

“Dallas? Are you alright, Honey?”

He avoids looking her in the eye. “Is Ponyboy alright?”

“Do you wanna come talk to him?”

Is that a trap? Oh god, that’s definitely a trap.

“Dallas, stay here. Don’t go in your head, just stay here.”

Jane steps closer, carefully watching his reactions.

“Baby, I would never hurt you. You will not go over my knee until the day you say that you’re ready. Even if that day never comes.”

Jane slowly reaches up to cup his face. Dallas flinches, but doesn’t move away.

“I-I don’t—“

“I know, honey. Now, I don’t know what happened to you exactly, but I have kids like you. I know you ain’t never been disciplined in your life, only abused. And I would never do that to you, baby.”

There’s no fucking difference, he wants to scream. The ones who wanted to discipline me just abused me.

“Da said I was a bad kid, said I needed it to behave,” Dallas says, mostly to himself. He doesn’t expect Jane to react so intensely.

“Your da is a piece of shit.”

Dallas flinches at the harsh tone. Jane has the decency to look a bit sheepish.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I just—I can’t stand thinkin’ about deadbeats like that. Honey, you gotta know you ain’t deserve it.”

I did.
No I didn’t.

Why can’t you see what Da saw? Why do you have to be so different?

Dallas feels dizzy. He slumps down on his bed, putting his head down. Jane sits down next to him, rubbing his back.

Slowly, he turns his back to her. Then, he lifts his shirt.

Her gasps sounds almost painful.

Da was a precise man. Even in the depths of his addiction, he was never late, never faltered. Now, the scars all along his back are uniform to a psychotic degree. Pale lines that almost blend in with his skin.

Less precise are the burn scars. Pink and circular. Da used him as a punching bag, an ashtray, and a—

“Oh, my baby. Never. We would never do this to you, I swear to god. Oh my poor baby,” Jane rambles. Her voice sounds wet, and when Dallas turns, he can see the tears in her eyes.

His heart aches at having made her cry. His hands lift, then stop, just twitching in the air.

Dallas has never been a son before in his life. He has no idea what he’s doing, and he’s scared.

Jane wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. His lanky body folds into her, wanting to just disappear. Dallas has never felt more safe than he has in those arms.

“I would never hurt you like that. I would never let anyone hurt you like that again,” Jane says with conviction.

The worst part is, Dallas believes her. Wholeheartedly, he believes she’ll protect him.

This isn’t who he’s supposed to be. Dally is a no-good hood who is going to end up dead any day now. He’s not supposed to have hope. He isn’t supposed to curl into Jane’s arms and let her cradle him like a child.

Then again, he isn’t supposed to be at school, or have a home, or sleep with a stupid stuffed rat.

Dallas is so scared—so terrified.

He’s never been religious, but he still grabs his St. Christopher and prays that the Curtises are for real. 

 

The next morning, he watches Pony mouth off to his mom again before school.

The kid doesn’t seem scared at all. That, or he’s stubborn as hell. Probably both, knowing Ponyboy.

Steve and Johnny both shoot him knowing looks. They all have more in common than Dally is comfortable admitting.

He still shakes when their voices rise. He still wants to bolt as it gets serious.

But, he stays.

As long as Jane and Darrel Sr take care of him, Dallas will try to stay.

Notes:

If you think this chapter is late you’re going insane, I always post on Sundays and gaslighting isn’t real

In other news, Dally suffers some more🥰🥰
It’s my favorite thing to do

Chapter 9

Jane's house is always full. 

There's always her boys running around, their friends, sometimes even their partners.

That's to say, it's not often she gets a knock on her door.

At first, she thinks it was her imagination. She turns back to dinner without a second glance.

Then, she hears it again. Dropping her spatula and turning down the heat on her stove, she heads for the door.

It's probably some neighbor the boys have pissed off or—

"Timothy?" She asks.

Tim Shepard stands on her porch. He respectfully tilts his head.

"Good to see ya, ma'am."

"Oh! Come in, come in! It's almost dinner."

Jane has been trying to get to Tim Shepard in her house for years. Unfortunately, none of her boys are too close to him, meaning he doesn't come over much.

"I really shouldn't—" Tim starts, then stops and stares past her.

"Tim? Fuck are you doin' here?" Dallas asks. 

Jane turns to scold his language. He has the decency to look sheepish.

Tim snorts, looking Dallas up and down.

The boy is one of Two-Bit's Mickey Mouse sweatshirts—and he's practically drowning in it. His hair is also in a loose ponytail using the same purple scrunchie from his first night.

Dallas glares and crosses his arms. The sweater-paws do not help his case.

"You boys know each other?" Jane asks.

"Know him? The little shit has been annoyin' me since he got here," Tim says.

"Language," Jane scolds.

Dallas rolls his eyes. "I stayed with Tim when I first moved here. Just until I scored a place with Buck."

"Yeah! And ya didn't tell me ya moved in with the Curtises!"

"Ain't nonya business!" Dallas says harshly. Then, softer, he says, "Didn't think it was a big deal."

"You had me goin' to Buck's like an idiot this whole time. I like to know where yer at, Dal."

Jane looks back and forth between the boys. There's something going on there. Not like Darry with Paul, but..Dally with Johnny, maybe?

Timothy knows something she doesn't, that's for sure.

"Are you stayin' for dinner?" Jane asks.

Tim glances at her, but his eyes are really on Dallas. "Sure. Free food is free food."

Jane silently celebrates as she guides the boy into the house. Then, she calls for Steve to bring up another chair.

She watches from the kitchen as Dallas and Timothy talk on the couch.

"I feel like I got kidnapped, man. Never meant to stay here that long," Dallas says.

"That's how the Curtis family is. They'll snatch ya up."

"I'm in school, Tim. Me! I'm back in school! Ain't that crazy?" Dallas asks while playing with his sleeves.

"Yer too smart to just be some hood, Dal. Should've been in school this whole time," Tim says. The way Dallas lights up speaks volumes.

The way the boys look up to Dallas is the way he looks up to Tim.

Timothy is Dally's idol.

Jane finds herself smiling as she keeps an eye on the boys. It drops when Darry stomps into the kitchen.

"Why is Tim Shepard in here?" He asks harshly.

Jane hardens her gaze. She doesn't even have to tell him to fix his tone. He just ducks his head and apologizes.

"What are you on about, boy? You've always been friendly with Tim."

"Yeah, but that don't mean I want him around my kid brothers. He's a bad influence," Darry declares.

Jane has to physically stop herself from laughing out loud.

"Didn't you..didn't you say Dallas was a bad influence just a few weeks ago?"

Darry flushes. "Th-That's different, mama!"

"Sometimes people aren't what they seem."

"He's a dealer. He runs an actual gang."

"And I think he's a very sweet boy," Jane argues. "Besides, from what I've heard, he's been takin' care of Dallas since he got here."

Darry deflates a bit. "Yeah, I guess.."

"You can go sit with them if it makes you feel better. Keep an eye on things."

"Okay.."

Jane rolls her eyes as he stalks off. Her boys can be such hypocrites sometimes.

 

Darry does not like Tim.

Sure, he's friendly with the guy, but he's still a criminal. He doesn't want him anywhere near his brothers.

Since that night Darry came around to Dallas, a lot has changed. He's become just as overprotective of him.

That means, he does not like how he's looking at Tim.

Now, Darry is a smart guy. He sees the irony in the situation.

Just like he hated his brothers idolizing Dallas, he hates Dally idolizing Tim.

He really does wish he wasn't so jealous. Envy has always been his sin of choice. He just can't help glaring at Tim.

Not to mention how close the two are!

Tim has no qualms about wrapping an arm around Dallas. They're way too touchy for Darry's taste!

Darry is trying to channel his father in how he stares holes into the two of them.

Unfortunately, Dallas is fucking oblivious and Tim loves pissing him off.

More than once, Tim will smirk at him before squeezing Dally's waist or carding a hand through his hair.

Darry's blood is fucking boiling. 

His saving grace comes in the form of Johnny. The kid is too perceptive for his own good.

"Hey, Dally?" Johnny asks.

He immediately gets all of Dally's attention. His soft spot for the kid is insane.

"Can I braid your hair? I've been practicin'."

"Yeah, sure, man," Dallas says. He slips onto the floor in front of the boy.

Johnny wastes no time. He pulls Dal's hair free from his ponytail and gets to work.

He wasn't lying about practicing. More often than not these days, Dallas can be found sporting at least a few tiny braids.

"Damn, you're really good at that, kid," Tim says.

Johnny stutters under the praise. Dal interrupts them, snapping, "Ey, leave my hairdresser be."

Tim just laughs, making some joke about Dallas being "such a girl". Before the two can start fighting, Steve and Soda come crashing into the living room.

They're caught up in another wrestling match. Soda laughs while Steve snarls.

None of the others—save for Tim—pay them any mind. Johnny bites his lip as he focuses on his braiding. Dally insults Tim and Darry glares at him.

Tim himself asks, "Are they always like that?"

"These people fight all the time. It just doesn't end," Dally says.

Something in Tim's eyes hardens. "They fight with you?"

"Sometimes? It's fun. Don't get your panties in a twist over it."

"You're so damn lucky we're not in the street because I would—"

"Dinner's ready!" Jane calls.

Steve and Soda immediately scramble up to run to the kitchen. Pony slides in from down the hall. Two-Bit appears out of fucking nowhere—although he does pause when he sees Dallas wearing his hoodie.

Darrel Sr finally appears as well. He shoots a questioning look at Tim, but chooses not to ask.

Dally—once Johnny finishes his braid—drags Tim to the kitchen. Darry is the last one there, and he stays staring holes into Tim.

He is distracted by his mother's amazing cooking, though.

Thankfully, his father tags in to interrogate Tim.

"So, Timothy, what brings you here?"

"I've been running all over Tulsa looking for this idiot," He says, jerking a thumb at Dallas.

The blonde makes an offended noise.

"You two are close, then?" Darrel asks.

"You could say that. I met him when he first stumbled into town."

Dallas rolls his eyes. "You said I looked like a Barbie doll and I punched you in the face."

The entire table laughs.

Two tilts his head as if he's considering it. "I mean—"

Dally jabs a finger at him. "Shut it, Keith."

Two-Bit squawks at the horror of being called his name.

"Let him crash on my couch for awhile. Then, I got him an in with Buck and, well, here we are," Tim says.

"Well, we're glad he had someone looking out for him," Jane says.

Dallas snorts, but doesn't say anything. Tim kicks him under the table.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly. Tim blends in frustratingly well with the rest of the boys.

At the end of the night, Jane gives him a some leftovers for Curly and Angela.

As he's leaving, Dallas joins him on the porch. The two of them talk quietly so the others can't eavesdrop.

"You're happy here?"

"Shit, Tim, these people are weirdly nice. They treat me good. Life is good."

"You know that's all I care about."

Dallas just nods, fidgeting with his sleeves again.

Tim smirks. "Just don't disappear next time. Or else."

"Fuck off, Tim. I'm gonna slash your tires."

"And I'll tell your mama."

"She ain't—oh fuck off, asshole," Dallas says while shoving Tim off the porch.

Tim laughs and flashes the middle finger as he walks away. Dally is grinning when he steps back into the house.

Notes:

Tim & Dally my beloved!!

Jane might also be adopting more kids (Pray for Darrel Sr)

Chapter 10

Dallas never thought he’d enjoy school.

He associated it with the worst years of his life—the ones he spent with his father. He dropped out after his mother died in about second grade.

Everything else he knows, he had to teach himself.

Dallas is a resourceful guy. He knows that every city, town, and suburb has a library. That’s one of the first places he went whenever he skipped states. It was there that he taught himself to read, write, and do basic math.

All that being said, he didn’t expect to do so well in school.

From what everyone has said, it’s basically a prison. Dallas knows prison.

He can definitely see the similarities, but it isn’t so bad. Sure, some teachers are dicks, but at least they don’t beat you. The only thing he can confidently say is the same is the food. Then again, Jane packs their lunches, so they don’t have to eat it anyway.

Of course, Dallas hasn’t adjusted to everything. There are still things he’s unfamiliar with that are normal in school.

One of which happens to be—

“Report card conferences happen tonight. Are y’all ready to get grounded?” Two-Bit jokes at lunch.

“Maybe you two are getting grounded, but I’m fine,” Steve says.

“Even with that fight you got into last week?” Soda asks.

Steve noticeably pales at that.

Dallas is suddenly reminded of the paper he was given in home room. He pulls it out, looking over all the little letters. He’s no closer to figuring out what it means than he was this morning.

“Can anyone tell me what the hell this is about?” He asks, holding up the paper.

Soda gives him a soft smile and takes the paper. He leans closer to walk him through it.

“This is your report card. It’s basically how they track how good you’re doing in school. A, B, and C means you’re passing, while a D or F means you’re failing.”

“What happened to E?”

Two-Bit calls loudly, “That’s what I’m sayin’!”

Steve chuckles and shrugs. “I dunno, man. They just didn’t add it.”

“After school, they hold report card conferences. So, your parents can come in and talk to our teachers about our grades,” Soda explains.

Dallas nods along to the explanation.

“You’re actually doing pretty good! Better than Two, anyway,” He jokes.

Two-Bit squawks in offense. Dallas finds himself laughing along with the others.

Steve leans over the table to snatch his report card from Soda.

His eyes widen slightly when he sees the array of letters.

“Shit, you are doin’ better than Two-Bit!”

Two-Bit shoves himself up against Steve to get a look. He whistles lowly.

“How the hell do ya manage that?”

Dallas shrugs. “It’s good, then?”

“You got an A in English, B’s in science and history, and you only got a C in math,” Steve lists off. “Ma’s gonna be proud.”

“Mhmm!” Soda agrees.

Dallas can’t help the warmth in his chest at the thought of Jane being proud. The thought of her coming in and meeting all the teachers that hate him does make him anxious, though.

That also reminds him..

“What’s ’grounded’ mean?”

 

Report card conferences are a rough day for Jane.

She has to wrangle the physical report cards from all her boys. This usually leads to her finding out about failed classes (Soda), fights (Steve), or general disrespect to staff (Pony).

This time, though, she has another report card in her pile.

Honestly? She’s been very anxious about Dallas being in school.

It’s like she’s sending Darry to kindergarten for the first time all over again. 

Dallas said he hadn’t been to school since he was a small child. So obviously she was worried about his first day back.

Her fears were confirmed when he got detention on the very first day. It was hard to get a straight story from him, but Soda said something about an unfair teacher.

She decided to just let it go, and hope things would sort themselves out.

Dallas has been doing much better since then. He seems to be settling into the routine. So, Jane suppressed her urge to meddle and fuss over him.

(Although, her fussing would probably be welcomed by him)

Anyway, she’s anxious, and pleasantly surprised.

Jane can’t keep the smile off her face as her eyes scan over the report.

Dallas is making himself some tea and awaiting her approval.

“Oh, honey, you’re doing so good! I’m so proud,” Jane gushes.

She plants a kiss on Dally’s head—her first time doing so. Getting the boy used to affection has been a journey.

He goes completely pink under the attention, preening at her praise.

“ ‘s just readin’ and math,” He mumbles.

“Well, you ain’t been to school in so long. Now, you’re doin’ better than Two-Bit!”

She hears a wail from the other room, then the cackles of Steve and Soda. Dallas snorts, fighting an amused smile.

Jane has long since stopped questioning her boys.

“Are you gettin’ on with your teachers? No more problems?” She asks.

It’s always hard to get answers out of teenage boys. Thankfully, Dallas will always give her at least half an answer.

“Eh, they’re alright. Ms. Bailey’s still great.”

Over the past few weeks, Jane has heard a lot about Ms. Bailey. She really can’t wait to meet the woman that’s helping Dally pass English (and giving him more books to read. That boy gets through them almost as fast as Pony).

“And the other kids? Ya makin’ friends?” 

That gets her a noncommittal hum and shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t look up from his tea.

Jane frowns slightly. She really hopes Dallas isn’t getting bullied. She knows Steve and Pony have both been made fun of in school.

Logically, she knows Dallas can handle himself. But, she still had a terrible urge to gather her boys up and keep them safe in her arms forever.

It’s simple mother instincts.

With a shake of her head, she goes back to reading the notes on the report cards. 

“Steve! Why does it say you got into another fight this month?” She calls.

“…it was nice knowin’ ya, Stevie,” Two says, which earns him a glare from the boy in question.

 

Jane and Darrel always split for conferences. Afterwards, they reconvene and tell each other what they heard. Depending on what it is, they hand out praise and punishments.

They tend to switch around who has who, even drawing names from a hat. This year, she has Dally, Johnny, and Pony, while he has Soda and Steve.

It’s also agreed that whoever gets Soda and Steve gets to bring Darry along to help wrangle them.

Johnny always goes fast. He’s a joy to have in class and sticks to himself.

While she’s talking to his teachers, she hears the boys chattering behind her. Those three are tighter than tight. Hell, they’d probably cover up a murder for each other.

Pony takes slightly longer. It seems he’s personally offended one of his teachers again. She’s always telling that boy to quit with the sass.

Finally, Dally’s teachers don’t have much to say. It makes sense, since he’s still new. To be honest, Jane is just giddy to meet his famed English teacher.

“Ah! You must be Mrs. Winston,” greets a darker-skinned woman with braids.

Jane shakes her hand. “Mrs. Curtis, actually.”

The woman seems a bit surprised. When she sees the three very different boys behind her, she seems to understand.

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Mrs. Curtis. I’m Fiona Bailey.”

“It’s amazing to meet you, too, Fiona. I’ve heard so many good things about you.”

“Really?” Fiona asks, glancing back at Dallas, who is pointedly not looking at her.

“You best believe it,” Jane responds. “Anyway, I hear Dallas is doin’ pretty good in English.”

“He’s doing wonderfully. He’s a very well-read boy, with an amazing vocabulary.”

“You should know by now that he’s a big reader,” Jane teases.

She smiles when she sees Dallas duck his head to hide his face. Behind him, she spots Pony and Johnny looking at one of the book shelves in the room.

“He’s a bit shy in class, isn’t one to raise his hand much, but he has a lot of profound thoughts I wish he’d share. All his work is beautiful and very insightful.”

“He’s like that at home, too. The other boys are loud enough for our tastes.”

Ms. Bailey laughs softly along with Jane.

As if to prove her point, there’s a crash behind them. Pony yelps and then shouts.

Jane shoots up, only to find Ponyboy on his back on the floor. A book raised in his hand, and a chair and some boxes scattered around him.

“…I told him not to do it,” Johnny says.

His mouth twitches as he tries not to smile. All it takes is Dally snorting for them both to dissolve into laughter. Pony grows red as his brothers laugh at him.

“I just wanted to see this one! It was too high to reach!” Pony attempts to defend.

Jane shakes her head as she helps the boy up.

“Didn’t I tell you to quit actin’ a fool in public?” She scolds.

“I have a step-stool you could’ve used,” Ms. Bailey adds.

Pony simply pouts, still embarrassed.

He goes to defend himself, when Soda slides in.

“Ma! We’re done! Can we get Dairy Queen?” He asks excitedly.

Darry and Steve run in after him. They’re both panting, leaning on anything close by.

“I told you..to quit..runnin’ off!” Darry scolds in between breaths.

“But-But Dairy Queen, Darry!”

“Yeah, Superman. Dairy Queen,” Steve snarks, smirking when Darry glares at him.

Darrel Sr finally walks in, looking equally tired.

“Your kids are animals,” He says.

“They get it from you,” Jane insists.

Ms. Bailey laughs, startling everyone. “This..this might be the best conference I’ve ever had.”

“Well, we’re happy you’re entertained, at least,” Darrel Sr says.

“I’m so sorry ‘bout all this,” Jane apologizes. “Everyone best start headin’ to the car!”

That gets everyone moving. Soda sprints out, Steve hot on his tail. Darry rolls his eyes and follows them. Pony is quick to run after his older brothers, book still in hand. Meanwhile, Dally and Johnny walk slower, just talking calmly.

“Those boys are gonna be the death of me,” Jane complains.

“They seem like a wonderful bunch,” Fiona says.

“They are, but they still get on my nerves.”

The boys are piled into the car by the time they get out there. They’re laughing as Johnny recounts Pony’s fall earlier.

When they get in the car, Soda perks up.

“Dairy Queen!?”

Darrel Sr sighs, but nods. “Dairy Queen.”

The boys erupt in cheers. Johnny gives a small whoop. Even Darry’s moody self cracks a smile for once.

Jane can’t stop the smile from forming on her face.

Notes:

More Ms. Bailey content!! Her and Jane will be besties!! (Ft. A very exhausted Darrel Sr and Steve & Soda being menaces)

Plot-wise, stuff will be more focused on Dally’s time at school for a bit!
Silly shenanigans-wise, if y’all wanna see something specific, I’m open to suggestions!!

Chapter 11

Dallas has always been a big reader.

When he did go to school, reading time was his favorite. In juvie and jail, he was always in the library. Even when he was traveling, he always had a book or two on the train or bus.

No matter where he went, libraries were always a constant. From small towns to big cities, you can always find one.

Being back in school only means his access to books has increased. He’s in he library regularly during his free periods.

He’s run through about half of Ms. Bailey’s library. Now she just gives him author recommendations and tells him to go ham in the school’s library. 

So far, he’s read everything by Louisa May Alcott, L.M. Montgomery, and all of Jane Austen’s most notable works. Currently, he’s searching for a copy of The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton.

What can he say? He’s a bit of a sucker for a good social commentary.

Of course, he gets completely distracted by every other book that stands out.

He’s mid reading a blurb when someone clears their throat. He doesn’t look up, instead he just steps out of the way.

Dallas is really debating whether this book would be worth it, when a hand waves in front of his face.

He scowls, his glare murderous. Who the hell has the audacity—and that’s a chick.

She has her hands on her hips, pouting her red lips. The girl has long, slightly curly red hair. Honestly? She reminds him a bit of Two-Bit.

If Two-Bit dressed like a soc.

His glare remains. Chick or not, he’s not about to get friendly with a soc.

“Excuse me. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your damn business,” He growls. 

He is not in the mood to deal with entitled socs. Dallas doesn’t hit women, but he could definitely get Sylvia to do it for him.

Speaking of, he really has to meet up with her soon. She’s gonna be so mad he hasn’t told her he moved. Sometimes she can be even worse than Tim—

“Listen, I don’t care what greasers do outside, but don’t disrespect the library.”

Oh, now that pissed him off.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” He snarls. “Just because your daddy’s got money doesn’t mean you own the entire world. Trust me, you would get eaten alive in a big city.”

It’s true, too. Even the rich weren’t safe in New York. Not that many people were actually rich, not like here.

“My father worked for his wealth! Until people like you, who lie, cheat, and steal to get their way,” She says.

“Please, your family doesn’t know what work is. And you’re definitely thinking of your people there.”

“Why are you even in school? You’re going to end up in prison anyway,” She spits.

Dallas smirks, moving to loom over her. “I have been to prison. So run along before you give me a reason to go back.”

For just a second, he can see the fear flash in her eyes. It gives him a rush he hasn’t felt since he moved in with the Curtises.

The feeling is short-lived, because Ms. Bailey walks over. She’s got a smile in her face and a book in her hand.

Dallas immediately deflates, making himself smaller—just like he does with Jane.

“Dallas! There you are. See, I just got a copy of ‘Valley of the Dolls’ and I knew you had to read it first. It’s right up your alley.”

Honestly? Valley of the Dolls has been on his read-list basically since it came out. That doesn’t mean this soc chick needs to know that.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Dallas mumbles, ducking his head in an attempt to hide his blush.

Ms. Bailey smiles at him, then, she seems to finally spot the girl.

“Oh! Sherri! How are you, dear? How’s your father?”

“H-He’s doing well, Ms. Bailey,” She stutters, looking between him and his teacher.

“I see you’ve met Dallas. He’s one of my best students, yknow?”

God, he wishes the floor would swallow him.

“Really? But he’s..” ‘Sherri’ must think better of insulting him in front of an adult.

“He’s a big reader. Honestly, you two have similar tastes.”

The girl just nods, clearly taken aback.

As soon as Ms. Bailey says her goodbyes, Dallas turns on his heel. He’s not going to stand around and get made fun of for his tastes. He gets that enough at home from the guys.

Her heels click after him, though. 

“Hold on, I didn’t know you actually read.”

Dallas rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because only rich people know how to read.”

Sherri has the decency to look embarrassed. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you don’t seem like the type to like those sorts of books.”

Dallas actively fights his blush. He knows how it much look for a guy like him, but he’s never cared much. Usually, he could just punch anyone that says anything.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean,” She sasses him. “Guys don’t usually like the books I do. They think they’re too girly.”

“Who cares? A good book is a good book,” Dallas argues.

Fuck anyone who doesn’t like Little Women.

“What else do you read? I’m a big fan of Louisa May Alcott.”

Like a sleeper agent, that name activates something in Dallas. The guys hate it, but he tends to go on tangents about her book series.

“Which one is your favorite?” He asks frantically.

Sherri rolls her eyes. “Good Wives. Duh.”

Dallas can’t fight the grin that stretches across his face. Sherri’s eyes are almost fond.

From then on, Dallas does a lot of ranting about Little Women. Sherri—or, Cherry, as she’s told him to call her—seems just as passionate. Everyone opinion and debate just makes him so damn happy.

They meet up in the library every day during their free periods.

For the first time, Dallas feels like he made a friend. And she’s a soc! You really can’t make this shit up.

What really solidified this whole friendship thing was Cherry spending lunch with him. Yeah, that’s what friends do, but socs usually stick to their side of the place. They definitely don’t sit with the poor kids.

“Is this seat taken?” Cherry doesn’t wait for a response before sliding next to him.

The guys stare in disbelief. Dallas freezes mid-bite of his sandwich.

She just leans over to shake each of their hands, completely ignoring their shock.

“I’m Sherri Valance. My friends call me Cherry, though.”

“Well, Cherry, it’s lovely to meet you,” Soda immediately flirts.

The guy just can’t help himself around girls.

Dallas rolls his eyes. Steve refuses to shake her hand on principle.

“The hell is a soc doin’ here?”

“I know Dallas. We talk sometimes,” Cherry says.

The boys all look to him. Reluctantly, Dallas nods and backs her up. He was really hoping they wouldn’t find out about Cherry.

“Ooh! Dally you dog, ya didn’t tell us you had a girl hangin’ around,” Two-Bit teases.

That’s why.

Dallas goes pink, glaring at him. “Shut the fuck up, Two-Bitch.”

Soda cackles, which makes Steve laugh too.

Two-Bit’s teasing doesn’t stop, though. Dallas is getting redder by the second.

It doesn’t help when Sherri giggles, too.

Dallas silently wishes death upon every single one of them.

At another table, across the lunch room, two guys watch them carefully. Bob scowls, watching some hood cozy up to his girl. Randy is more focused on his lunch, but he’s always prepared to follow orders.

Notes:

Y’all know I had to include Cherry in this

Will probs do something with Sylvia next! Lemme know what kinda stuff you guys wanna see!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Raising Dallas