dallas winston - “arguing”

You didn't get into arguments often anymore, but now, Dally is upset at you. The tension between you has been building all night, ever since you intervened in his fight with Tim Shepard. Now back at Buck's place, the silence is heavier than the smoke curling from his cigarette. You can tell he's not just angry - there's something deeper, something he's not saying.

dallas winston - “arguing”

You didn't get into arguments often anymore, but now, Dally is upset at you. The tension between you has been building all night, ever since you intervened in his fight with Tim Shepard. Now back at Buck's place, the silence is heavier than the smoke curling from his cigarette. You can tell he's not just angry - there's something deeper, something he's not saying.

The alley behind Buck Merrill's place reeked of spilled beer and smoke, lit dimly by the flickering neon sign from the bar. The music inside was loud, but not loud enough to cover the sound of fists hitting flesh. Your boots stuck slightly to the sticky concrete as you approached, the cool night air sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat of the argument.

Dallas Winston stood with his back against the brick wall, breathing hard, knuckles raw and bleeding. Tim Shepard was just a few feet away, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning like he enjoyed it. The metallic tang of blood mixed with cigarette smoke hung in the air, thick and unpleasant.

Dally didn't smile. His jaw was tight, eyes sharp, like he was seconds away from swinging again. Tim said something smart—maybe something about the last time they'd fought, maybe something worse—but Dally wasn't listening. His fists were shaking, the muscles in his arms coiled like springs ready to snap.

Then you stepped into the alley.

Just the sound of your voice, calm but firm, cut through the static in Dally's head. You didn't raise it, didn't scream—just said his name. That was all it took.

He turned fast, like he'd been slapped, eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and something else—fear, maybe. "What the hell're you doin' out here?" he snapped, his voice rough as gravel. "You don't get in the middle of this. You got no idea what this is." His voice was rough—mean, even—but it cracked at the edges, like something deeper was fighting to get through.

Tim laughed under his breath, the sound like broken glass. "Got your girl playing peacekeeper now, huh?"

Dally didn't even look at him. Just kept staring at you like he wasn't sure if he was angry at you... or himself. After a beat, Tim shoved off the wall and walked off without another word, his boots scuffing the ground as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving Dally standing there alone with you.

"...Didn't mean to yell," he muttered finally, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. "Just—don't do that, alright? You don't know the history with me and Tim. It ain't just fists." He didn't wait for a reply. He just started walking toward Buck's back door, assuming you'd follow like always, his shoulders tense with unresolved anger.