#personally ive always been a tally person bc i only want dallas with people equally as nasty as he is

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Y'ALL I'M SO SORRY I MISSED TIDBIT TUESDAY!!! SOMEONE SUE ME WAGHHH to make up for it please accept tidbit THURSDAY (a lil longer than usual 'cause I'm real sorry AGH)

"Oh fuck." Dallas skidded to a halt, heaved in the fridged night air in gasps that burned down his throat 'n panted out his nose in hot bursts. Johnny froze beside him, wrapped hands around his biceps 'n dug his nails in.

They were cornered. Fuck. How had Dallas let that happen? But he knew how. 'Cause at some point c'mon just high tail it this way 'n they'll get sick of chasin' 'n bail had become duckin' alleys 'n leapin' fences 'n the sound of sirens comin' ever closer.

Johnny's eyes are sharp 'n dark 'n watchin' Dallas close, his back to the tall fence that bordered the lot. Jesus Christ. Dallas should have been more careful. Ain't no way both of them are gettin' over that. He bites his lip. Hard.

Well. Nothin' to be done about it.

He tears his jacket off his shoulders, slips it off his arms 'n shoves it into Johnny's hands. Johnny hesitates then lets out a low noise, shakes his head, tries to force the worn leather back into Dallas' arms. "Dal, no, c'mon."

"Stop wastin' time, Johnny." His voice comes out a little harsher than he means it to, scrapin' against his chest as his heart bangs away under the veins in his wrists. In one smooth, practiced, 'n worn movement done a hundred times til it was rounded at the edges, he slides his St. Christopher over his head, his ring from his finger, droppin' them both into Johnny's already waitin', upturned palm.

The sirens reach a crescendoin' pitch, wailin' 'n yowlin', the lights cuttin' long, low shadows across the lot. They were out of time.

"Dal-"

"C'mon, kid." Dallas doesn't wait for him to comply, just grabs for his ankle 'n hoists him unceremoniously over the rustin' fence. Like he was already expectin' it, Johnny twists, manages to land on his feet. The sleeves of Dally's jacket hang low over his hands 'n for a moment they both just stand there, lookin' at each other through the braided metal. 'Til Johnny can't stand it anymore, tears his eyes away 'cause lookin' at Dallas like that reminds him of Dally on the other side of chains that can't be cleared as easily as a boost 'n a well-placed leap.

Cops are crossin' the lot now 'n Dallas glances over his shoulder, haloed 'n silhouetted in the red 'n blue. "C'mon Johnny Cakes. You gotta beat it." 'N his voice is low 'n urgent 'n he wants to sound cool 'n tuff but it cracks just a lil' on the edges. But he's gotta get the kid outta here 'cause Johnny had a chance. 'N Dallas wasn't gonna let him go down for somethin' he could throw himself in the way of.

"Dal, please-"

"Johnny please." 'N then he's runnin'. 'Cause Johnny was never as brave as Dallas Winston. 'N he never would be.

Dallas watches his shadow slip away 'n sighs, bares his teeth 'n grins 'n throws his hands mockin'ly into the air. Johnny can hear his gunfire laugh crack crack crack-in' as he ducks into an alley 'n disappears.

...

Johnny clears the Curtis steps in one long leap, bangs the door open harder than he means to 'n flinches. Four heads whip around, Soda 'n Darry already risin' to their feet.

"Johnny? What's-?" Darry freezes, takes a good look at the jacket slidin' from Johnny's slight shoulders, the pendent bit between his teeth, the ring he's gotta keep his fingers bent so it doesn't slide off, 'n sighs. He abandons the plate of dinner he's inevitably just sat down for 'n snaps his keys from the counter.

"Johnny, you ok?" Soda shoves his chair back so it scraps against the tile 'n Darry winces.

"'M fine." He drops the St. Christopher from his mouth, hoists the jacket up. "It's-"

"Dallas." Darry toes his shoes on, grabs a sweatshirt discarded beside the door. "If the station calls, let 'em know I'm already on the way." He sighs again. Johnny sways on his feet, the adrenaline rushin' straight out of him 'cause Darry's got it now. Got him now.

"Johnny, you ok kid?" Soda's got his hands on his biceps now, lookin' him close in the eye.

"Yeah," Johnny heaves in a breath, runs a hand under his nose 'n winces when dry blood flakes off under his fingers, "S'ok."

Soda glances over his head 'n Darry pauses, gives him a look that levels him to his core. He was real good at those. But whatever he sees convinces him Johnny ain't lyin'. He hovers in the door a moment longer, watchin' Johnny with those ice-green eyes before he shakes his head, leans over, 'n brushes the last of the dried blood from Johnny's face.

"Y'know, kid? You look just like him in that." 'N none of them are sure that's a good thing. But Johnny just grins, crooked in the way he learned from Dallas.

"Y'know? There are worse people to be like."