Archive of Our Own ^beta

the last time she saw him, he'd been standing on her front porch, hair dark and a grin on his face. her mother had been inside, asleep and her father still hadn't been home in two days. cherry had to go inside as soon as possible before her mother woke up — it was up to her to clean up everything, to make it seem as if she hadn't been out too long. if cherry didn't do it, she'd be paying the price for it and that would just be the cherry on top of a shit sundae at this point.

and she just couldn't take another blow like that tonight.

on the inside, she had been seething the whole way home, despite the stiff smile on her face. dallas and marcia had talked pretty easily, and she was simply stewing over the fact that it seemed like for the fifth time in a row, she had lost out again to someone she hadn't planned for. getting to dallas before sylvia had seemed easy enough; sylvia stuck to her usual pattern of crowing out her intent in the girl's bathroom. cherry had kept her mouth shut as sylvia had bragged about how this time, dallas wouldn't catch her, that she'd get to keep him and the beta she'd been seeing.

it had been years of this cat and mouse, cherry watching them get together, break up, get together, break up. she didn't know what he saw in sylvia, but this time? this time, cherry had it all planned. she always knew that sylvia was at buck's or around the other tracks and would probably pick a fight no matter if dallas got out of jail.

cherry though, thought she was smarter. where sylvia usually made dallas chase her down, cherry had met dallas as soon as he'd gotten out of jail, waiting on the steps with other greasers when he'd come out. and he looked so good, sneering at one of the cops, taking his ring out of the bag he had and putting it on without a care in the world. she'd let marcia drop the bomb sylvia cheated, and she was the one who asked him to go to the movies. dallas had given them that usual grin, the alpha swagger and confidence that never waned, that infuriated cherry and drew her in all at once. he'd agreed to come to the moviehouse and cherry had felt so much excitement in her chest that finally, finally dallas would go out with her.

it had been years since she had wanted him, had been so long since she had felt the want for him blooming in her chest. she had always wanted to be his girl, had always thought about finally being able to say she was with the toughest hood in tulsa.

and now here she was, disappointed, scenting that omega soc all over him. she had seen it herself, a pair of cokes in hand (and the secret plan to tip one so they'd be forced to share) as he had leaned in close, said something to ponyboy curtis and kissed him. she had felt dumbstruck to watch him kiss ponyboy — smaller, younger than him, rich and always so strange — the way she had always thought of kissing dallas, the way she had always wanted to be kissed. it shattered all her plans to see him do it, to see that someone she hadn't planned on had done in just a few minutes what she hadn't been able to accomplish since she was thirteen.

it makes the situation worse that not only is ponyboy an omega — soft, wide eyed, slim the way so many omegas would die to look — it's that he's a soc. a soc's soc with how rich he is, would inherit that big curtis fortune that so many people wanted and dallas had chosen him and not her and it stings to lose like this.

to lose not to another girl, another alpha, but to an omega boy. an omega boy who was the very picture of the omegas that make magazines with big eyes and soft hair. who seemed to not even realize who he had with the way he'd come back to their seats, who had let dallas pull him into his lap, having the nerve to blush whenever dallas leaned over to whisper in his ear or touch his thigh.

it's like other times she saw dallas fooling around with other girls except worse. how could she even compete with an omega? how could she compete with a soc, even a weird one who barely went to anything other than the moviehouse? an omega who, if the rumors were true, barely attended his own cotillion, who barely showed up to class? one who was best friends with johnny cade?

the thought of him bothered her the whole night, having to sit beside them, her eyes burning, her cheeks flushed. johnny cade was a piece of shit all on his own and dallas wanted his best friend? who probably liked johnny telling him about scaring greasers for kicks?

by the time the movie ended, she was grateful dal had offered to walk her home.

and now here she was, on her front porch. dallas is grinning at her and all she wants to ask is, why is it any and everyone but me? why didn't you ever look at me the way you look at bitches like sylvia or barbara? why do you want to be with a soc like that? there's an urge to lash out at him, to let it all out.

but mostly cherry might have lost him, but she still had her pride. she didn't want to grovel or cry. he didn't get to have that from her, and in the end, she'd said, "see you tomorrow, dally. thanks for walking us home."

he'd grinned at her with that mouth full of sharp fangs and turned, walked away.

when they walk dallas in front of the cameras, cherry feels something in her chest tighten. she knows that this isn't the way most people are sent to the prison, and she doesn't know what to do except to stare at the television, the sound on low as the announcer says, "dallas winston is being led by the us marshal service to the tulsa jail where he will be held until charges are formally filed. as it stands, he is likely to be charged with his alleged involvement in the death of jonathan cade, jr, and the kidnapping of ponyboy curtis." the voice is droll; she's not paying attention to him so much as she's focusing on the way dallas is being hauled up, at his long brown hair, at the way he seems odd to her as he went.

how many times did cherry see him get picked up by the fuzz? how many times did cherry see him get shoved into a cop car with a grin on hsi face? and almost every time he he was prideful, defiant. people change; cherry knows that, her red nails playing at the gold chain on her neck as she watches. she's evidence of that in spades, no longer a teenage girl doing everything to get out of her parents lives, trying to be seen as more than the torn up clothes she had, be more than just a greaser girl with little prospects.

the house she lives in now could have her childhood home shoved into the garage. the make up on her counter was more expensive than her entire wardrobe in high school, and as her feet push against the carpet, she's well aware that as a girl, she never would've had any of this at all. that she's sure none of her friends would have ever figured her for this life.

in all this, it's just strange to see dallas cooperating as he's dragged up the steps, followed by reporters and police. it isn't that he's an adult, that he's aged that had her enthralled, it's the way he ducks his head, averts his eyes, allows them to steer him into the jail house. the dallas she knew used to swear, have some swagger as he was taken in. he used to snap at people, even. this one, on the television, has his mouth shut in the muzzle they've affixed to his face — a muzzle so cruel that it makes her stomach flipflop, makes her feel rage.

"cherry?" bob calls from below in the living room. cherry glances at her door resentfully, folding her arm on her waist, annoyed. they have forty minutes to go before his parents get there and every moment of waiting, she doesn't want to have to get out of here. not only does she have to dress herself, but she'll have to get the kids ready, and she wants to have a little more time for herself.

"i'm getting ready, bob!" she fires out, able to see her reflection in their expensive mirror, lined by gold. her hair teased up, the softness of her body in the wake of two pups, the ring on her finger still as bright as the day bob gave it to her. she has a dress she can put on, should really at least get her bra and panties on to get it going. she can go, get bobby jr. and aaron both together for their grandparents.

and yet she finds herself sitting on the bed, inching up the volume as the announcer gives a play by play. he comes into sharper vision, still outside the courthouse, "while the curtis family has given few statements, the tulsa police department is currently still sorting out charges with the mission police department for the potential crimes. the us marshal service also seeks to have charges levelled at mr. winston, and as it stands, we may be in for a long uphill battle to get to a court any time soon. for the remainder of time, until those charges are formally brought up, mr. winston's home won't be a farm, but a jail cell."

the door cracks open and bob enters before cherry can change the channel. he scowls at her, and as usual these days, cherry thinks that there's something else behind his eyes there. that maybe her husband isn't as faithful to her as he says he is.

that or maybe he got into the alcohol already, his voice sharp, "cherry, come on, stop watching that. we need to hurry up and get ready." he crosses over, glancing at her laid out clothes, hand fumbling for the television knobs. "they're going to be all over us, wanting to know what's going on and we both need to look our best."

"oh, is that all?" cherry flicks off the television before he can get to it, leaning back, glaring up at him. "we need to look our best? or do you need to make sure that i look good for your parents? need to make sure that i don't look anything close like —"

"i don't have time for your complex tonight, cherry!" bob turns around, eyes dangerous. even if he and johnny cade weren't exactly friends with each other when he was alive, cherry is starting to see more shades of that boy in bob's face with how he looks at her. the meanness in his eyes that she used to be able to look past, could push away, keeps coming up more and more these days. "this is — don't you get it, cherry? if we can't put on a good face—"

"you mean if you don't impress your parents, they're going to make running for governor difficult!" cherry beats him to the punch, throwing the remote down, going for her dress. "that if i don't act like your little trophy wife, they aren't gonna give you the funding!" she snatches her underwear, steps into it as she continues on. "i'm not stupid bob, i know what this is about. you just want to kiss ass, look good—"

"you think being—" bob raises his voice and they're on the verge of a fight, a real one. she can feel it simmering under her skin, the resentment, the anger they both have for one another. she's sure that he'll throw so many things in her face: that it took such a long time for her to get pregnant, that it was her fault that bobby had been a bit slower than everyone else, that he'll blame her for every little fuck up and nitpick she's had.

the urge to ask bob to tell her what to do, to see what he needs to just give in to him and his wants wells up in her. at the same time, she wants to remain defiant, wants to throw in his face that they're both alphas, that he had all the goddamn ambition to be more and none of the sense to get it himself and maybe he shouldn't pressure her about every little thing to keep the peace with his parents. that she was tired of having to do it over and over, when they both knew his parents would never care about her, would never see her as one of them. that the charade was killing her.

at that moment, when the words threaten to spill over her lips, there's a knock on the door and aaron's voice calls out, "mommy, i need help with my tie!"

for a moment, cherry thinks that maybe bob will turn around and do it. that she won't be stuck with the kids again while he opens up liquor and rehearses his lines. that he'll actually be the father she thought he could be when they were in the waiting room together. maybe he'd be that boy she fell in love with, all those years ago who said to her he didn't care if she was a greaser.

"mommy's coming," bob says, and he disappoints her again.

briefly, she thinks maybe dallas wouldn't have disappointed her. and then the rest of her remembers where he is now, where johnny cade is now and the bitterness inside of her grows and grows.

the evening doesn't help, as she's forced to get dressed, and go tend to her sons. aaron is all of six, big eyed and he looks so much like bob that the kindness on his face is a little startling as she helps him with his tie. bob doesn't do anything to help with their sons, making sure that the staff has everything together, that the china is arranged just so, that he has all the words he needs to placate anyone who will come in through the door for dinner.

and her? she has to make sure her children look perfect. has to soothe bobby, has to keep aaron from making a mess. she has to make sure the ring is adjusted just so, has to make sure her make up is perfect, that she uses any and everything that marks her as bob's wife. to them she isn't anything except that, and tonight, she can't afford to stick out.

and even in all that, she feels as if the eyes on her are cruel, sharp as his parents enter first. she wonders if his mother thinks she's showing too much cleavage, or if his father thinks that she wore the wrong color. she wonders if his little brother will make a comment about her shade of lipstick again, she wonders if his wife will lean over and whisper that she's pregnant, and if cherry will have another child soon, knowing full well that two alphas had a harder time conceiving than an alpha and an omega.

it burns her to keep her mouth shut as more and more people file into their house, as the glitziest parts of tulsa file into her home. all the while she thinks of times she had talked with marcia and dallas, of times she and two bit had been closer, of the way she had been as a teenage girl, just desperate to have one boy in her orbit.

and now, here she was eating on fine china instead of shitty plates, feeling her skin grow cold when her mother in law says, "i heard that the curtises are having a hard time. seems that ponyboy isn't being cooperative with them." her fork scraps the plate, and it's like nails on a chalkboard to cherry. "he's doing the strangest things, and they think it's because of that alpha who took him. he won't even see most of his recommended doctors."

the gasps are polite, yet they're all so asinine, cherry thinks. they're all staring at her mother in law with rapture, even bob looks curious beside her. cherry hates to admit she's curious too, but doesn't want to single herself out as she cuts at her steak. "it's sad, really," her mother in law goes on, clearly liking to have the attention on her. "they all thought that he'd be so happy to be home!" she shakes her head in a stately way. "i expect some of those charges will be harsher than what others are anticipating."

there are sage nods, tinkling of utensils on china. cherry can feel tension balling itself up in her chest as she leans over, grasping the wine. her mother in law hates for her to drink so much, and she doesn't care about it for a moment, thinks it's worth the risk to take a drink. one of the older women at the other end of the table chimes in, "did you read the story in the paper, about how they got caught?" there are some nods, others looking curious even though almost everyone at the table has had a hit piece leveled at them by two bit at least once in the last five years.

including bob, who scowls at his plate. bob who didn't know that cherry had snuck and read the article, had soaked up every word that she had provided to two bit. yet surely, he had to have known she had provided a quote with the way that he averts her eyes.

cherry swallows more wine, feeling it race down her throat. "you think he really gave himself up, betty? i find that hard to believe."

"well," cherry's mother in law sighs, her husband getting up from the table, hand palming for his cigar, "i'm not sure if i do. maybe sherri knows." her head turns, eyes pinning on cherry, who feels frozen with the glass of wine in her hand. other eyes follow, and slowly, cherry puts the wine glass down. "didn't you know that boy, sherri, back when you were a little girl. that's what the article said, didn't it?"

cherry finds herself thinking bitch in her head as more and more eyes look to her, as the air fills with tension. she doesn't know if she wants to throw her wine at her, if she wants to lie or be honest or anything. if she were younger, maybe. she used to be able to convince bob to do fun things, to get away from his parents. she used to be able to speak up more, and yet...

she feels caught now with everyone looking at her, waiting for an answer. there's a part in her head — that sounds so much like her father, in the rare times he cared to talk to her — that tells her she should push back. that she's got to tell betty sheldon the truth, that she didn't know, that she didn't think that dallas had done anything really horrible to ponyboy. that even if she said the wrong thing, if bob loved her, he wouldn't be angry with her.

her lips part and she says, "i wouldn't put anything past dallas, really. even if he hadn't kidnapped him, what do we know about what went on?" every word of it is tailored for her in laws, for these vultures in pearls and gold. her stomach feels sick as she talks, as she does what she has to do, to keep her family together, to keep her husband happy, to not have to go back to that girl who lived in a ramshackle house with little to her name. she's betraying dallas, in a way that shouldn't come so easily. "he used to go to jail all the time, so it's not a surprise to me, what he could do."

bob is looking at her in a curious, strange way at the end of the table. she doesn't know if it's pride or if it's surprise on his face as his mother gives a smile that more resembles a smug viper than pleasure. all she knows is that she feels ashamed when her mother in law reaches out to touch her hand, her skin cool on hers. she wouldn't even touch cherry after bobby was born, always made an excuse to work around her, and here she is now saying, "i'm so glad you didn't end up like him."

cherry's shame deepens, yet she smiles back anyway. it helps suppress the need to throw up, it helps suppress the feeling that all she's done is betray everything she's ever cared about, in exchange for the favor of a cold snake, of a woman who was just as ambitious and greedy as her son.

when her hand squeezes hers, cherry smiles wider, and doesn't reach for the wine glass for the rest of the meal.

it is no surprise to her that night when bob tells her that his parents would give him the money for what he wanted. he looks at her with pride, and all she can feel is shame to her very bones.

and yet as bad as the shame is, as horrible as it makes her feel, she doesn't pack her things and run. she doesn't ask for a divorce. she doesn't tell him how she feels. she thinks about what it would be like if she were still going to bed hungry, if she were forced to have to break her back every day of the week to get by, would it would be like to not have bob smile at her every so often with pride.

the shame doesn't keep her from sleeping either.

that night, she dreams of dallas on the porch again, grinning at her.