#socgfwriting

it's not like you had any crazy expectations for what dallas winston had in mind for valentine's day. sure, you spent all your time with each other. you'd gotten real close, in every sense of that word. but he would avoid that commitment conversation like the plague, so you weren't exactly expecting a declaration of love or a bouquet of roses.

but flat out acting like the holiday didn't exist? that was just too far.

the two of you had just left buck's after you'd spent the afternoon doing homework on his bed while he sat around bothering you. like every friday night, dally had stolen the thunderbird to take you to the nightly double. but this was just a routine occurrence, of course. not like he would ever believe in such a mushy holiday.

still, you'd hoped for something - a box of chocolate, some grocery store flowers, maybe a card. you try to take your mind off it as dally puts his foot on the gas, fiddling with his pockets haphazardly.

suddenly, his face scrunches up in frustration and he grumbles, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he cuts the gas. 

"hey. do me a favor, will ya? grab my smokes from my desk. top drawer on the left." 

you roll your eyes but go back anyway. his room is the usual mess - clothes draped over the chair, a couple beer bottles on the windowsill, your textbooks and notes spread out on the bed. you yank the drawer open, already expecting to have to dig past god-knows-what to find the cigarettes.

instead, you find a stack of papers shoved carelessly to the side.

you don't mean to snoop, but something about them seems out of the ordinary. it's not like he's the type to be keeping a diary, but these aren't just receipts or homework. as you take a closer look, you see they're notebook pages crumpled at the edges, ripped out hastily, the ink a bit smudged and messy. 

then you see the date at the top of the first one. an entry from over a year ago. you hesitate for a moment, knowing this must be personal. a flicker of guilt runs through you, but you can't help paging through the headers on the first couple of slips. you swear you can make out your name somewhere between the lines, and against your better judgment, you start reading.

november 5th, 1963

she fell asleep on my shoulder at the drive-in today. she really needs to stop doing that. swear i almost decked steve in his face for laughing at it, but i knew she'd hate if i did it. it's funny, she fucking mumbles in her sleep. i swear she said my name a couple times under her breath. i acted like i didn't hear it but i can't stop thinking about it.

january 17th, 1964

she had to babysit pony today and she dragged me along to keep her company. i was supposed to do a run for buck, but i'll have to figure that out later. it's funny, she was real apologetic about it, like i'm ever gonna be mad that i have to spend time with her.

april 28th, 1964

we were watching some stupid rerun in her living room and i guess i must've been exhausted. she started running her fingers through my hair all sweet like she always does, messing it up. didn't have the energy to tell her to knock it off. next thing i know i wake up laying down on her side. she says i knocked out. whatever.

august 12th, 1964

buck decided to go sticking his nose where he doesn't belong last night… asking me about her. why i won't make it official? make what official? i come to her window every damn night. she lays on my shoulder and tells me all her secrets. not like i let anyone else make me act that way. that's official enough for me, far as i'm concerned.

november 1st, 1964

i swear she did something different with her hair today, or maybe her makeup or something, or her outfit. whatever it was. i just couldn't stop staring at her. she's so pretty it makes me forget what i'm thinking when i look at her…christ, i'm sounding like a fucking sap. if buck ever found this, i would have to kill him.

december 9th, 1964

i found her crying today when i walked in. i wanted to hug her or something, kiss her on the forehead and make everything better. i didn't. just sat there smoking by her side until she stopped, let her get everything off her chest. then she had the nerve to say 'thank you dal,' like i did anything special. i have no idea what the hell she sees in me.

january 28th, 1965

glory, she's got the worst taste in music. i told her that today and she threw a fucking pillow at me. truth is i would listen to the beatles for the rest of my goddamn life if it meant she let me lay in her bed and listen to her sing along. it's cute.

february 3rd, 1965

if she finds these i'm gonna have to tell her it's for an english assignment or something. no, never mind. even she wouldn't believe that. man, i'm fucked.

you reach the last entry in the pile, this one laid out nicely with neater handwriting, on a fresh sheet of paper:

february 14th, 1965

if you find this, happy valentine's day. figured there's no point in keeping these a secret. i'm sorry i'm not better at saying it. you should know i'm not much for words. but i mean everything i wrote, doll, swear.

you reach over the center console of buck's red thunderbird that dally 'borrowed' to park in front of your house, and fiddle mindlessly with the neckline of his white tee shirt, the cleanest one you could find in his closet for this occasion. though getting him to wear something with a collar, or god forbid, buttons, would be a tall order.

"quit worryin' your pretty head. i got it, alright? nothin' illegal." he grins over to you, leaning back in his seat and putting a cigarette between his lips. "i'll tell them i work at the library or some shit."

you roll your eyes at his comment and snatch the stick out of his hand before he can light it. "...and you can't be smellin' like smoke either when you meet them."

"awe, now you know that's too far." he reaches into the glove compartment, digging out a pack of menthols instead. "c'mon, you can't have a problem with these."

"ugh, dal…"

he groans dramatically, putting it back in the box. "fine. jesus, woman, the things i do for you.."

"yeah, you like me or something?" you can't hold back a smile.

"no, no, that's not it. i'm losin' my mind, that's what." he retorts, though there's that familiar softness in his voice. "alright. i can see your ma lookin' through the damn curtains, let's go."

he places a chaste kiss to your cheek and walks over to the passenger side, holding the door open. he'd be a real proper gentleman if you didn't know any better.

your heart beats out of your chest as you slide the key into the front door lock. and dally must have picked up on it with the way he squeezes your hand softly, running his thumb along your palm. you can hear your parents scramble off the couch at the sound

your mother's eyes light up when she sees you at the door.

"oh sweetheart, look at you two! well, come in, come in." she beckons you and dally into the living room, smoothing her hand over his shoulder.

you swallow hard before speaking. "mama, daddy, this is -"

"uh, dallas winston, sir." he's already reached out his hand for a firm shake, and your father's eyes immediately zero in on the small, healing cut on dally's lip, though he smiles gruffly.

"great to finally meet you, son. we've heard so much about you."

"real nice place you got here, ma'am." dally's eyes dart around your living room, trying really hard to seem like he hasn't already snuck up the stairs in the middle of the night a dozen times by now. you're biting the inside of your cheek, holding back a smirk.

"well, thank you, dallas." your mother gestures to the dining room, plates and utensils already laid out for four. "dinner should be just about ready. you like pot roast?"

"yes ma'am." 

as the four of you sit down for dinner, you can sense the tension in dally's body from the corner of your eye. his fingers drum lightly against your knee.

"so, dallas, my daughter tells me you help out at the rodeos?" he asks cautiously, and dally nods.

"that's right, sir." 

your dad passes the gravy boat, keeping his eyes on dally. "dangerous sport."

"yeah, that's what makes it worth doin'."

dally catches your warning nudge to his ankle under the table, and recovers quickly. "...course, i'm uh… real careful, sir. can't have your daughter here worried sick about me."

your father softens slightly at his words, glancing between you and dally. "that's right, son, you better be. this one's quite fond of you."

dally almost looks proud at your father's reaction, dropping his gaze to his plate to hide the hint of a flush on his cheeks. 

"well, it's getting late," your mother says, gathering the dessert plates into the sink, while your father glances at the clock. "dallas, you'll drive safely home?"

"always do, ma'am." 

you can barely stifle a laugh at that one.

"and thanks for dinner... it was real good." he continues, standing up from the table and pushing the chair in all proper.

"why don't you two say goodnight on the porch?" your mother suggests, and you don't miss how dally's eyes light up for a moment.

as you close the screen door behind you, the sounds from the dining room muffled and the cool air hitting your face, dally's lips are already at your ear.

"window's unlocked?"

you nod as subtly as you can, knowing your parents are definitely peeking at you through the windows. "be careful with the screen this time. daddy noticed the holes last week."

"yeah, i got it. ten minutes, baby." he mutters gruffly. he leans down and kisses your forehead softly before heading down the steps towards the thunderbird.

you let out a quiet sigh and head back into the dining room, letting out a slightly exaggerated yawn. "think i'd better head up, mama. got some reading to do before bed."

you almost think your mother is onto something with the knowing look she gives you. "alright, honey." she pauses. "he seems like a good guy. he treat you well?"

you smile softly. "yeah. yeah… he does, swear."

"man, was i good down there or what?"

you barely had time to change into your nightgown before dally's made the climb back into your bedroom. by the looks of it, all the rules he was bound to have been completely abandoned.

you scoff slightly, sitting criss cross on the foot of the bed. he's already sprawled across your headboard, head lounging on your ruffled pillows.

"yeah, a little too good, dal. got 'em thinking you're a prep school boy… where'd you pick up manners like that?"

his chuckle is muffled softly by the cigarette between his lips.

"wouldn't you like to know, sweetheart?" he pats the spot right next to him, mumbling, "c'mere."

"dal, they haven't even went to bed yet-"

"ain't doin' nothin'. just want my girl closer." he pauses, a shit-eating grin creeping onto his face. "...what were you thinking?"

you let out a halfhearted groan but scoot over next to him anyway, sinking your head into the crook of his neck. he strokes the top of your head lazily as you take in the subtle feeling of his chest rising and falling, a feeling that's always comforted you.

"think they're asleep yet?" he mumbles after a while, his breath in your ear.

you poke him gently in his side. "dal..."

he can't hold back a gruff laugh as he catches your fingers, interlacing them with his own.

"worth a shot, baby."

a.n. i hope you like this request i'm sorry it took so long!! i was fighting for my life trying to make this not too ooc bc i feel like in reality dallas would like cuss your parents out to their face but i CHOOSE to believe he can also do this like i'm a soft dallas truther.

ps.ps. this is kinda soc reader coded…