What's Up, Doc? (The Outsiders, Dallas Winston, Fanfiction)

Chapter Two: Pay Up and Get Out

Dallas needed 35 dollars by Friday, which was in 4 days. Even if he robbed the local gas station, he'd never get that much money. Damn broad overcharged him so much, this was impossible to pay off so quick! He didn't even have a job, let alone could Dallas get one.

She'd beat his ass once she figured out he couldn't pay her. Doc, a nickname given to her via Twobit, would probably do worse if he stood her up on the money. He wasn't scared, but what he did know was that he was one strike away for getting hauled off for a year, and Doc could probably sell him up the river.

So, now, Dallas had to walk himself up the road to her house, at 4 in the afternoon, to tell her he couldn't pay her. As soon as he found her blue house, he took out a cancer stick, lighting it on her porch, and knocked on the door.

It was quiet for a little while, and then he saw the door swing open. It was her alright, but she looked terrible. She had blood on her shirt, messy hair, and was wearing yellow, rubber gloves.

She tilted her head, staring at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Ugh, just. I'm here cause I gotta tell ya' I can't pay you back," he took a drag of his cigarette, pausing, then smirked. "But, uh, I think I can pay you back in other ways, don't ya' think?"

She stared, like she was thinking about it, before nodding her head, and letting him in the house.

It was more cleaned up than usual, but there was an iron smell from the kitchen, plus the strong smell of cleaning supplies.

He kept a smirk on his face as he followed Doc. She went to her bedroom, and he followed suit, ready to see what was in store. She pulled out paper and pen, writing things down, and handed it to him. A chore list.

Clean kitchen, throw out trash, help with appointments. She was making him her damn assistant!

"I didn't sign up to be your assistant, alright," he yelled, glaring at her. She didn't respond, only stared back at him, an unamused look on her face. It was one of those looks you'd see parents giving their kids. Not anger, more like disappointment.

"What are ya, mute," he scoffed, to which she nodded. That was a first. He met quiet people before, sure, he knew Johnny after all, but at least he talked sometimes. Dally scoffed, crumpling up the paper, tossing it on the floor. 

"I ain't gonna do your damn chores, alright," Dally grumbled, making his way to the door. Before he could even think of leaving her house, Doc blocked the door, holding out her hand. Doc's eyes were half lidded, her eyebrows cocked up, lips pursed. The pale skinned hand she held out wagged, a sign for him to hand her over the money he owed. 

"I told you, I don't have your money, man. Jesus, just let me go, I'll get it to you another time," he tried shoving her out of the way, but she held her ground. Doc was tired of his antics, and just wanted money, or for Dally to work his way in paying her back. She didn't have time to fuck around like this. 

It was clear that Doc wasn't moving anywhere, or letting him go, without him holding up his end of the deal. She literally saved him from bleeding out, the least Dallas could do was pay her back, or do something for her. 

Minutes passed, and all the two did was glare at one another, giving deadly stares. Dallas was getting fed up with the whole ordeal. He attempted once more to shove her out of the way, but instead of just blocking him, or standing her ground, Doc slammed her heeled shoe down onto his foot.

"Ow, you bitch! The hell was that for," Dallas groaned in pain, it hurt what she did. Doc pointed behind Dally, a scowl on her face. If he just got it over with, he'd be out of there in no time, so he gave in.

"Fine, what'd you want me to do," he asked, arms folded to his chest, a condescending tone in his voice. She lead him to the kitchen, where he learned why there was such an irony smell. Red, pretty fresh, blood was soaked on the table and other objects. 

Doc picked up a bucket and rag, shoving it towards Dally to take, then pointed to the table. He grumbled, realizing what he wanted her to do. Clean that mess of whatever happened, hopefully just a surgery, like what she did to him, and not some murder. 

He reluctantly went to the bloody table, starting to clean it off. The cleaning product she was using burned his eyes, but Dallas sucked it up, he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. 

Doc had left as soon as he started, retreating to her room to do whatever Doc did. Dallas finished quickly, and Doc was still gone, so he took the time alone to snoop. He could never pass up an opportunity to stick his nose in somebody's business. 

He had enough of the kitchen as is, so Dally made his way to her living room, inspecting bookshelves and such. There wasn't much to find, nothing dramatic. He searched about her bookshelves, and there wasn't much, books that weren't anything special. Dallas found a few notebooks, all filled with writings, from what he could assume was how she talked to people. 

Something that particularly caught his interest were her pictures. He only knew her as a cold, angry, short doctor, but the pictures he found told otherwise. Doc was younger, she looked about 12, and she was surrounded by friends, smiling, laughing. It really changed up what she came off as, but, time changes people.

Dallas's snooping was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. He reeled around, still holding the photo, to see a very angry Doc. Her eyes were trained on the photo, snatching it out of his hand; she looked pissed, more so than usual. She sat the photo back in its place, glaring back at him.

"What's got you in such a pissy mood, just a photo, damn, girl," he chuckled. Doc didn't find that funny, her head snapped around, her eyebrows were furrowed, and she only stared into his eyes, beyond pissed.

Doc pointed towards the door, then shoved Dallas out, slamming the door behind him. So much for paying her back.