berries bakery

He coaxed you to spill your guts, scooping you up with hushed praises whispered into your temple, then cheek. Darry got you into a warm bath, fed you some soup he'd saved from dinner, and settled onto the couch with you, handing you the remote before patting his lap.

"See? Nothin to stress yourself out about, baby," he rumbled, bordering on teasing while his fingers drummed on your back, cradling you like he does with his brothers. "Stubborn thing."

-🩷-🩷-🩷-

Dally begrudgingly agreed to watch a movie with you. He loved you, of course he did! But you always picked movies with sad endings and he hated it when you cried. He didn't do crying.

Dallas Winston was many things, but for his partner? He was whipped.

That's what led him to this very moment, curled up on a dingey couch that creaked everytime someone sat down too hard, arms draped over the arm and back of it, legs spread like he owned your personal space. It was a boring, stereotypical sob story; kid gets dog, parents don't want the dog, kid loses dog, everyone cries. Hey, he'd heard his fair share of sad stories! It's not that he didn't care, he just knew it was all fake.

"Come on.." he grumbled under his breath, "This kids the worst actor I've ever seen. He's not even crying!"

When he looked over to see your reaction, tears weren't on his bingo card. Not just that, you were red-faced, sad little pout crying. Not good.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, "Are you crying over this?"

That only made you cry harder.

"Dollface, just- c'mere," he sighed, practically dragging you over by the shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down your arm while you sobbed softly into his wife beater, his head pulled closer to yours.

"S'not real, airhead. The dog's n'actor, he's going home to a big house with treats when the movies over."