Happy Birthday Dallas

A/N: Okay, y'all, this is here because there seem to be a lot of people asking for this kind of story. It's not here because I'm good at them. I'm not. Just getting the ball rolling for anyone who really writes these fics. And I'm bored. Anyway, if you don't approve of homosexual activity, or really have something against putting The Outsiders characters in this kind of position, then DO NOT READ THIS STORY. You'll find it gross or something.

P.S. They don't do much. Really, if anyone has read anything of mine, it's just the innuendo taken slightly farther. Ergo, no sex.

P.P.S. Don't flame this story please. Go write your own.

P.P.P.S. It's pre pre pre novel.

P.P.P.P.S. It's a lot less funny then I think I am.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make nothing.


It was a warm, clear night. The inky black sky was sprinkled with sparkling stars, and a slight June breeze rustled through the grass. All in all it was a beautiful evening, but as he stalked down the deserted sidewalk Dallas Winston was more than a little pissed.

A half hour ago he'd been perfectly happy, sitting in the dark at the drive in, his arm around some pretty little broad, a condom safely stowed in his pocket, ready to celebrate his the eve of his sixteenth year. And then she had to go and run off on him.

Dally turned up the driveway of a nearby house, rubbing his cheek where she'd hit him. It was all Tim's fault, he thought glowering. He'd been the one to set up Dally's date.

"I'm going to beat your head in Tim Shepard," he muttered to himself, hurrying up the steps. The house was dark, but he could hear the muffled tunes of Beatles music drifting down. Tim wasn't a Beatles fan. His sister was home. He shook his head, trying not to picture Angela in his mind. She was only a kid after all, but still.

Dallas banged on the door with his fist, letting loose some of the tension that had been coursing through him all night. He leaned back against the brick to wait, but his temper caught up with him again and he bolted forward kicking the porch railing viciously.

"Goddamn it," he swore softly, rubbing his foot. Dally turned back and leaned on the bell, impatient to talk with Tim. The door creaked open and Angela's haughty face appeared.

"You can't wait a minute?" she snapped. Dally gave her a look that would have sent any girl running.

Angela snorted. "That crap don't work on me. I got a brother who's twice as tough as you." She turned, leaving the door open for Dallas and sashayed her way out of the kitchen. Dally stepped into the house, letting his eyes linger on Angela's swaying backside. She was a piece; he'd have gone for her, but then 16-year-olds didn't date 13-year-olds, especially when the 13- year-old had a 18-year-old brother who could easily and with pleasure kick some 16-year-old ass.

Dally climbed the stairs a little too quickly as usually (he almost fell), turned down the narrow hall and burst through the door to his friend's room without knocking. Some radio station was playing, and Tim was laying on his back on the bed, smoking a cigarette. He looked up when Dally entered.

"Hey, that was a fast date," Tim said, his mouth curving into a smile.

"Fuck you man," Dally replied breathlessly. "I thought you said she was easy."

"Sylvia is easy," Tim drawled. "Guess you just have some troubled laying women."

In a flash Dally was on him. The two grappled for a minute before Tim hollered. "Hey, waitaminute. Gotta put out my smoke."

The rolled to the ground and within seconds Tim had Dallas pinned to the hardwood floor.

"Holler Uncle," Tim said grinning. Dally glared at him, but he wasn't into the fight. He gave up quickly.

Tim reached under the bed, pulling out a couple bottles of coke. "Hey, I wasn't expecting you so soon, but well, since you're here.got something to celebrate your birthday."

Dally accepted the coke climbing onto Tim's bed. "Should be getting laid on my sixteenth birthday not drinking coke with you," he grumbled.

Tim sat down beside him. "It's not coke," he said carefully, then took a swig from his bottle.

Dally eyed the bottled suspiciously, then raised it to his lips and took a large swallow. He spit half his mouthful out and choked on the rest.

"Goddamn Tim," he gasped, as his friend burst out laughing. "What is this?"

"High quality shit," Tim replied. "Drink it Dal."

Dally forced down another swallow. It burned all the way down and settled warmly in the pit of his stomach.

"Tim!" Both boys looked up quickly. It was Angela. She glared at both boys. "Y'all shouldn't be drinking."

"Aw, dry up Angel," Tim cussed at her good-naturedly. "It's his birthday."

Angela put her hands on her hips. "So? You still shouldn't drink. I'll tell dad, Tim."

"He wouldn't care."

"Mom would care that you gave it to a kid and she'd tell dad to ground you."

Outside, a horn honked loudly.

Tim smirked. "Okay, I won't tell that you're going out after 10 again if you keep your trap shut."

Angela beamed. "Happy Birthday Dallas," she called, flouncing out of Tim's room.

"I ain't a kid," Dally hollered after her. He leaned back against the bed and watched out the window as Angela hopped into the waiting car.

Tim took another gulp of his drink and turned to Dally. The blond was gazing out the window, his eyes blank. The usual tough look was gone from his face, and he looked younger than he usually did.

"You really are still a kid ain't ya?"

Dally glared at him. "Shut up. You ain't more'n two years older than me."

Tim gulped down what was left in his bottle and tossed it aside. It was true, he wasn't that much older. He took a deep breath, feeling suddenly dizzy.

"You alright?" Dally's eyes were trained on him, curious circles of ice blue fringed with light brown lashes. They cast spidery shadows across his cheeks, making his skin look paler than it was.

Tim shook himself, trying to make his eyes see right. Dally looked different tonight for some reason. Brighter, younger.prettier.

"You gonna finish that?" he asked roughly, taking the coke bottle from Dally before he could answer. He downed the contents in a couple of gulps and then tossed the empty bottle with his own. Then he looked back at Dally.

Dallas watched him friend with one eyebrow raised. "Hope you can hold your liquor man."

Tim's vision was swimming, and his head spun but he'd rather have swallowed his own vomit then admitted he couldn't take the drink. He shoved Dally lightly, watching his white-blond hair shine as he moved.

"Course I can take it. I'm a man remember? Not like certain BOYS I know-"

Dally yelped indignantly and launched himself at his friend. He caught Tim off balance and the two tumbled to the ground, rolling on the floor, knocking the bottles halfway across the room.

Tim's hands caught up in Dally's hair, long and smooth and free of grease.

"Oww.leggo!" Dally let go of Tim to grab at his hair, and in that instant Tim was on top of him.

"Holler Uncle," Tim growled for the second time that night.

Dally struggled underneath his heavier friend, refusing to be beaten twice. "Fuck you man," he spat, turning his head for fresh air. Tim's breath was hot against him and it stank of liquor.

"Knew you were just a boy."

Dally looked Tim straight in the eye, glaring at him. Tim could feel him squirm underneath him, he could feel the heat of his body and his breath from a mouth that was so close and before he knew what he was doing his lips were on Dally's.

He kissed him.

The second they touched went by like lightning, and the second after went on too long. Tim's mind screamed at him, his stomach heaved and he kept replaying the kiss over and over.

Dally shoved Tim off him and ran for the door. He tore down the hall and tripped down the steps and went out the front door into the cool night and he didn't stop running until he'd hit the end of the block.

He went down on his knees, panting from the race, his face flushed dark red. He leaned against the lamp pole, his eyes closed and he said the first thing that came to his mind:

"Oh YEAH."