shadowed [five]

[phallogical]

Shadowed
Status: completed
Warnings: LOTS of them; see tags
Rating: R
Word Count: 102k


The headache he has the next morning when Dallas wakes him up isn't terrible, but it's enough to make him hate Dallas for waking him in the first place.

"Come on, it's seven in the morning and I have to drive you to school still, get up."

"I normally walk," Matt says, getting to his feet despite the dizzying nausea he gets and the way his limbs feel a little mushy as though they're noodles. "But I'd appreciate…"

"Then you gotta shower, you threw up around three and I'm pretty sure that you still reek of it because you didn't throw up in this room, you threw up in the bathroom." He plugs his nose. "If you hurry you can eat breakfast, too. You… You just gotta hurry up."

As Matt heads to the shower, Dallas calls, "I have some clothes for you, too!"

He takes a quick shower, with the water as cold as he can stand it, and barely uses any of Dallas' soap or shampoo. Dallas is still lying on his bed when Matt comes back out with a towel around his waist.

"They're in the closet," he says, then stands up. "Choose what you want, I'll be in the kitchen."

It's nothing different from what he's used to. His father does allow him the liberty of dressing himself, but the clothes aren't Matt's. For all intents and purposes, they are Matt's, but he wasn't allowed them by his father, and as much as Matt hates to admit it, the bastard runs every bit of his life. It just feels a little like cheating.

He goes with generics, a black t-shirt and jeans and leaves the shoes in favor of his ratty shoes. Dallas barely glances at him when he comes down the stairs to the kitchen, but his silence from there after speaks more than Matt needs it to.

"You're ordering clothes online after school, all right?" Dallas says when they're parked outside of Matt's school. He stays buckled in his seat, waiting.

"I can't wear them home."

Dallas sighs and grips the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Okay," he says, sounding defeated. "Just for here." Matt nods. "When do you let out?"

"Two thirty-five."

"All right, I'll pick you up then. Have a good day."

Matt knows it's his cue to leave so he does. He catches a glimpse of Dallas before he turns his face away - he's still squeezing the bridge of his nose and his eyes are shut tight.

Matt finds himself feeling horrible a lot around Dallas. What's worse is he's only known him a few days. It's a little unfair, but he figures if he's been served this badly throughout life, it's not much to send him this to add to the pile.

Liam catches him as he walks to his locker. "Hey, nice car you pulled up in. Who was driving?"

"Dallas," Matt answers shortly, weaving through the crowds. "It's really loud in here."

Liam follows him to his locker and waits as Matt grabs his World History book. "Are you all right? You look like you had a hell of a night." Matt just nods. Liam doesn't normally get on his nerves - Liam actually never gets on his nerves.

"Could you tone it down?" he asks, rubbing his forehead. He can't get the image of Dallas out of his head. "I have a really bad headache."

"Sorry," he says immediately, quieter than before. "I guess that's a no, then."

"What?" Matt asks, barely audible over the buzz of the five-minute bell.

"Are you okay?"

Matt grabs his book and slams the locker door. "I'm great. Peachy."

Liam grabs his arm, gripping tightly to keep him in place, and says something again, but the voice in Matt's head doesn't let it through.

"Don't you dare fucking walk away from me!"

He stops still - his arm relaxes to the point where Liam lets go as though he's burned.

"Are you-"

"I'm going to be late for History," Matt mumbles, tucking his book under his arm and wandering down the hallway. He feels Liam's eyes on his back all the way to the classroom.

He's never had a flashback at school before. It has to be Dallas. He's throwing off Matt's psyche.

The day passes slowly - Liam watches him carefully all day but doesn't ask or say anything. Jody and Devin aren't any different than normal - giggling and playing with food and throwing friendly insults at each other. For once, Matt is actually settled by their presence. He feels safer somehow.

He still doesn't eat. Liam doesn't either, but neither of the girls manages to catch on, which Matt finds himself more thankful for it.

The universe granted him something, at least: Liam doesn't share any of Matt's afternoon classes, instead spending the PM courses in AP and honors classrooms. Matt knows it's stupid to expect Liam not to read into this. After all, he spends at least twenty hours a week overanalyzing for his afternoon courses - but he can't help it. Matt lets things go all the time, terrified of what he'll find if he lets his imagination take hold. He can't imagine it being that much harder for anyone else when it's so easy for him.

Matt's silence doesn't get Liam to stop, though. He tries to get more out of Matt when school lets out, but Matt gives him some excuse about his mother needing him home, and Liam lets him climb into the car with Dallas.

He looks better - a touch happier, but not by much. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair is a mess, as though he'd been pulling at it all day. His clothes look wrinkled, like he'd slept in them, but Matt feels that how Dallas looks isn't what he should be focusing on.

"Okay," Dallas says, gripping the wheel tightly. His arms shake. Matt tenses; he doesn't sound angry, but Matt doesn't want to pay for assuming. "Home. Right. Shit, I'm sorry, I really am, I just-" He sighs. "Excuse me. I meant to shower before I came to get you, but I lost track of time."

Matt shrugs, sinking into his seat when he sees Liam watching carefully from his car across the parking lot. He shouldn't have expected Liam to let it go; he's not sure why he even did as much as he had.

Dallas catches him looking and clears his throat. "Who's that?"

"Liam."

"…A friend?"

Matt shrugs, uncertain. He supposes that Liam is by all meanings of the word, but… "As close to a friend a guy like me could have."

At that, Dallas shifts the car and peels out of the parking lot. He seems upset again, but in a much different way. Matt doesn't ask, and Dallas doesn't offer, not until he pulls into his driveway. "How-God. He really has you brainwashed, doesn't he?" Dallas asks, his voice thick again, but when Matt looks at him out of the corner of his eye, he looks fine. "He's probably been perfecting it for years. The fucking asshole! Fuck, I'm - how do you even… How can he do that to his own son?"

"I-"

"What happened to your mother?" Dallas asks, seeming to be unfazed by Matt's attempt at interruption.

Matt swallows. "She's sick."

"So she's not at home."

"No, she is."

Dallas takes a deep breath. "What does she think of all of this?"

He shifts in his seat, unsure what he should say. He knows that Dallas isn't going to like it; he hasn't liked anything else that he'd found out about Matt's life. "She doesn't know." Dallas scoffs, unbelieving. "She's… in her room all the time. I haven't seen her for two years."

"Two fucking-" He takes another deep breath and starts biting at his nails. It's a moment before he says, "Okay, let's go in," as though the previous conversation hadn't even happened, and he gets out of the car.

He doesn't wait for Matt, but he still leaves the front door open.

It takes all Matt has to give to ask Dallas when he sees him sitting on the bench taking off his shoes, "Are you mad at me?"

Dallas' fingers fumble at his shoelaces. "Mad at you? No, Matt-Fuck, I'm sorry I gave you that impression. I'm mad at that miserable fuck up of a man that calls himself a father." He sighs and settles against the wall, shaking his head. "It's-I can't have kids, and I'm just… Amazed that somebody could…" He grips the edge of the bench with both hands so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Matt cringes. For a long time, Dallas doesn't say anything. Matt takes off his shoes and coat before Dallas finally says, in a quiet, soft voice, "You have to get out of there. Okay?"

Matt imagines Jon freaking out. Calling the police. He imagines him getting Matt back, keeping him for the house for weeks and inevitably selling him to one of his clients for some ridiculous amount of money.

His intestines constrict when he thinks about having to spend more than a weekend a month with Bill, or any amount of time with any of his fathers messed up clients. "I can't," he says as his hands start to tremble. He runs them through his hair so the shake isn't quite as noticeable, but Dallas still stands up, stepping towards him quickly. Matt instinctively steps backwards and feels bad when he sees the flash of emotion pass across Dallas' expression. "I can't do it, I-I-" His lungs feel like rope is wrapping around them, and he can't get enough air. "I-please, Dallas, don't make me, I, I don't know what he'll - do-"

Dallas steps forward slowly and carefully puts both of his hands on Matt's shoulders softly. For a moment, Matt feels the tremors worsen. "It'll be okay. You'll be safe. I wouldn't want you to do it if you weren't going to be safe. All right?" Mat nods, sucking air in embarrassingly. "Matt. Matt, please-" that word again. Matt already feels his nerves calming, just from the tone of Dallas' voice. "Matt, can you think about it? Please?" He nods again. Dallas looks relieved, and for a moment Matt wonders if he's going to hug him, but ultimately, Dallas pulls away and steps back. "Thank you."

Matt's breathing doesn't return to normal until Dallas is back on the bench, far away, with his head resting in his hands. He wishes it were easier. Out of all the people to deal with this, Dallas shouldn't have to. His house is already empty, and Matt imagines it's because Dallas has been too busy with his career and then Matt to actually find a wife, and he can't stop the apology from coming out.

Dallas chuckles dryly. "If you're going to tell me that you can't do it after five minutes of thinking, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to take it.'

But Matt shakes his head. "I'm sorry for-I'm sorry you're the one to pick up the pieces from this failure. It's unfair."

Dallas cuts him off before he can continue. "If I really didn't want to, I wouldn't. If I wasn't meant to-" he says the word with spite. "-I wouldn't have been behind you in the supermarket." He waits for Matt to respond, but Matt isn't sure what he should say, so he keeps his mouth shut. "Come on. I promised you we'd get you some clothes online and I don't let up on my promises that easily.

Later that night, as Matt lies in bed, the words Dallas says and none of the others say hit him harder. Words like 'promise' and 'please.' None of the others use the words the same way Dallas does - more about the other person than about themselves. He knows he wants to believe Dallas, and Dallas is making that easy, but day two is already over and he has to return to his father tomorrow afternoon. Dallas doesn't seem much happier about it - he's more upset about it than Matt thought he'd be.

Before he'd gone to bed, Matt had heard him on the phone as he passed his bedroom on his way back from the bathroom.

"…No, he won't let me turn the bastard in. I'm not going to force him to the police, that sort of defeats the purpose. …I'll talk to Jacob when he answers his phone, he's been out of a service area for the last two weeks…"

Matt finds it unlikely that Dallas would set that up, but Bill's done it before, early on to coax him into the basement in the first place, and Dallas could easily be doing the same thing. There's no real difficulty to it, and beyond that, Dallas is an actor. He could put on one hell of a show and Matt wouldn't know the difference. But Matt wants to trust him, so he keeps his mouth shut.

The next morning, Dallas doesn't say much. The ride to school is awkward and long, and before Dallas lets Matt leave, he says, "I don't want to, but… I'll pick you up after school and bring you… home."

"You don't-"

"It's the least I could do, all right?" Dallas' voice sounds defeated again - empty and helpless. "Go to class," he says, but it's lacking the heat that Matt would normally expect in such a command. "People are staring." He doesn't peel out of the parking lot as he leaves, but it's clear by the careful way that he maneuvers around the high schoolers that he still hasn't accepted Matt's silent decision about staying with his father.

Matt can think of five people that have, though.

Liam takes the day off, and Jody and Devin are away at a girl's field trip, so Matt spends the day alone. Not that he minds. With Dallas basically attached to his side all of last night, Matt's somewhat grateful for the reprieve.

They don't speak when Dallas picks him up that afternoon, and for the entire ride back to Jon's house, the only reason Matt knows he's still feeling like crap is because the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel isn't even there as he pulls up in front of the house.

"Remember what we talked about, okay?" Dallas asks, looking down at his lap. Matt nods, watching as his father walks out of the house, a wide grin evident on his face. Dallas follows his eyes and curses. "I wasn't expecting him to be here. Please don't get out until I tell you." He manages to get it out just as Jon approaches the door, but before he knocks against the glass.

"Heath," Jon says fondly as Dallas rolls the window down. "How was he?"

Matt senses the hesitation, but his father doesn't. "Good. Great. Awesome. Fantastic."

Jon chuckles. "One too many. How was he, really?"

Matt knows exactly how Dallas is going to fix what he sees as a problem. He's going to tell Jon that Matt was 'okay' - not sub-par but-

"-Awkward. Uncertain," Dallas says. Matt's sure that his father can't hear the hesitancy in his voice, but after spending the last two nights with him, watching him when he was supposed to be watching movies, Matt's pretty sure he knows what to look for.

To Jon, Dallas is just the guy that lied to him.

"Like he wasn't sure what he was doing," Dallas finishes, picking at the steering wheel with his hand. Matt sinks down into his seat when Jon bends down to glare at him.

"Interesting…" Jon says slowly, and in the same way Matt was sure that Jon didn't hear the hesitancy in his voice moments before, Matt is sure that Dallas doesn't hear the anger in Jon's right now. "Are you finished with him?"

Dallas hesitates, glancing at Matt out of the corner of his eye, and clears his throat. "You know, I don't think so. I'll… I'll be back on Friday." He stops speaking just in time, it seems; his voice breaks as he finishes his sentence. "I'll be back on Friday. Early, I think."

Jon barely nods his head, his glare still unrelenting. "Sure. Six thirty?"

"Actually, six would work better."

"All right. We'll see you then. Matt?"

Still uncertain, Matt glances at Dallas for confirmation. He almost expects Dallas to save him, to put the car into reverse and get out, but Dallas just stares straight forward at the house in front of him. Matt holds back the scoff, hoping that his father won't get the impression that Matt has an attitude, because regardless of the time of year, his father is always willing to lock him in the closet. The truancy officer has been aware of his mother's illness and finally let the whole school attendance thing go, but only because Jon bribed them and likely fed them some sob story, not because he actually thinks its all right.

"Matt," Jon says gruffly as he gets out of the car and slams the door. He studies Matt for a moment, then says, "Get in the house." Matt sends one last look towards Dallas, hoping he'll do something, and when he doesn't, he wanders towards the house. He feels Jon's presence behind him, dark and heavy. Matt ducks inside and stands, obediently, next to Daemon, who's sitting on his heels and wagging his tail, silent, waiting.

The atmosphere changes immediately when Jon closes the door behind them. "Heath wasn't satisfied," Jon says as Matt braces himself for the routine he's about to fall back into. Jon shakes his head and turns away from Matt with a heavy sigh. "You know what you need…"

"No!" Matt exclaims, mistakenly stepping backwards. Jon's angered sigh keeps Matt from moving again. "I mean, what I mean is-"

Jon spins around and grabs at Matt's hair. "No?" he repeats with a sneer, yanking Matt's head back. He does his best not to grimace. "You listen to me" He pulls harder; Matt can't help the embarrassing gasp that pulls from his lungs. "You still live under my roof and until that ends, you will obey my rules. Do you understand?" Harder still, and Matt stands on his tip-toes to keep his hair from pulling out.

"No, no, that's not what I mean," he says quickly. Jon stays quiet, waiting for Matt to continue. The fact that he has the chance is more than Matt's expected in a long time. "What I mean, you don't want Dallas to suspect anything!"

Intrigued, Jon lets go of his hair abruptly. Matt crumbles to the floor, rubbing at the sore spot on the top of his head. "Go on."

"If you-if you touch me, he'll know it was you. He'll get concerned that you're… getting the action too, and he won't-it's not something a lot of people are okay with."

Scrutinizing Matt's face, Jon finally gives in. Matt slumps against the wall. "Fine. If he doesn't sing praises about you after tomorrow, I'm takin' the money for his refund out of your flesh, boy. Get up to your room. You smell like you've already eaten."

Matt jumps at the shot. He's never weaseled his way out of his father's wrath before, and it terrifies him that he'd managed to do it now. He knows that it's not going to last - the fact that his father seems to be in a half-decent mood isn't going to last forever, and as soon as he's done, Jon's going to find some reason to punish him harder than usual because he managed to get out of this one.

Jon's behavior is Matt's entire reasoning for his practice of not messing with fate. Escaping it now only means that he'll have to deal with it more later on in life.

When his father leaves the next morning for work, he's never loved the silence more. Daemon keeps his trap shut throughout the hour, and his mother even refrains from banging against the walls. It's as close to a good start to the day that Matt can remember; the bitter twenty below weather outside doesn't even sting his face.

But, as Matt has come to expect, all good things must end. Karma catches up with him as it always does, and it's not until Liam corners him at school that he gets it.

"Dude, what's wrong with your face?"

Matt has to do a double take, but when he rubs at his eye, he figures it out. "Good question. I don't… know." Honestly, he doesn't. He'd woken up feeling fine because his father had already gone, but he hadn't even felt it. "Is it bad?" He can't be talking about the spot where Jon decked him the other night; somehow, that hadn't left a visible bruise.

Liam scoffs and shrugs his shoulders, tension oozing from his stature. "No, 'course not. Just looks like you got clocked in the head, that's all. What the hell happened?"

Frustration dusts his mood. "I already told you, I don't know." With that, Liam backs off. Sometimes, Matt appreciates Liam's ability to shut the hell up. Others, he's overly concerned. While he absolutely has a reason to be - whatever's got him so freaked out is probably true, but Matt doesn't want him to know. He has to deal with ten more months of dealing with this, and then he can get the hell out. Ten months, and Liam can spout it off to anyone he knows. "I have to get to class."

Matt knows it's a lame excuse; Liam glances up at the clock and scoffs. Matt's shoulders droop. "Okay, no, I only have one more question."

What's he got to lose? Liam's already ruined his day; he might as well complete it. "Fine. One more."

"Who's the guy that keeps picking you up after school? The guy with the wicked ride?" Liam whistles lowly. Matt knows what's coming. "Damn. He brings you home, you know?"

"Dallas."

Awkward recognition passes through Liam's eyes, but he doesn't immediately say anything. "Dallas." Matt nods. "And Dallas is…?"

"A friend."

"…A friend."

Matt drops his head against his locker. Liam looks a little surprised at the movement; a heavy lump of satisfaction drops into his stomach. "Yeah. What do you want me to say?"

Liam shakes his head, easily admitting defeat. "Hey, man, I was just curious. But just so you know, your defensive nature just kind of screams over-compensating to me."

"We're not dating, if that's what you think." Snickering into his hand, Liam shakes his head.

"That's exactly what I think."

Wishing he could tell Liam exactly what he thinks, Matt shakes his head and turns to leave. "All right, all right, jeez, I'll stop. If you're really not dating, I'll believe you." He still doesn't seem like he believes Matt, so he keeps going. "Matt! Come on, man, I was kidding!"

Matt pretends like he doesn't hear him; Liam finally gives it up. It settles the loudness in Matt's head, but it leaves a feeling in his stomach he hasn't felt since the last time he was with Bill.

At lunch, Liam has given up laughing at Matt in favor of resuming his practice of carefully studying him. It's a different way; instead of the constant snickering behind his hand, he's silent. It's unnerving, and Matt ignores him, instead listening to Jody and Devin's complaints about Jody's latest boyfriend.

Still, it doesn't stop Liam from catching him after eighth period. "You want a ride home?" he asks, somewhat awkwardly, rubbing at his wrists.

"I can't," Matt says as he shoves his books back into his locker. Three-fifteen. He's already late, and getting home any later isn't exactly going to help him, either. "I gotta get home, man, and no offense, but the way you drive isn't going to get me there early enough."

It's the wrong thing to say, and Matt figures it out as soon as he finishes saying it, but by then, it's too late. "What do you mean, early enough? What-"

"I just have to be at home, all right?" After receiving no response, Matt sighs and says, "I have to be there for Dallas, all right?" It sounds exactly like Liam thinks it is: gay, loving, and just as disturbing as Matt thought it would be when it came out of his mouth. "He's always earlier than I expect him to be, and I just-if I'm late things could go down, all right?"

Liam winks, though, and it seems that he's off the subject once again. Matt resists rolling his eyes at him. "Are you sure it's not that if you're early, stuff'll go down?"

Ew. Even if he doesn't account for his own sexuality, Matt doubts Dallas would be anywhere near his type.

He chuckles at Matt's lack of response. "All right, I'll let you go, then. Have a nice night, buddy. Keep an eye on that eye," he says with a click of his tongue, and then he's gone.

Dallas is waiting across the street when Matt tracks through the snow, the black car sitting innocently in front of a neighbor's house. Matt wants to go over to him, but the idea that his father is watching from somewhere isn't helping him.

He makes the decision for Matt, stepping out of his car, rushing up into the house and waiting beside Matt with his hands tucked into his pockets. "I know, I'm early. It's been a long day and I was afraid that if-" He stops when he catches sight of Matt's raised eyebrow. "All right, I've been here since noon, I-what's wrong with your eye?"

Matt backs away from him as he tries to reach out for it. "It's nothing. Don't worry. Why are you here? You're not supposed to be picking me up for another two hours."

A hint of emotion that Matt can't quite grasp flitters across Dallas' face, but it's gone fast. Dallas returns his hand to his pocket.

"I… I didn't have anything else to do today after nine, all right?" He shivers, looks towards the house. "Is Jon here, yet?"

Matt shakes his head. "No, but he should be any minute." The wind whips around their faces for a moment, then Dallas says, "Come on, let's just go. I don't want to be here when he shows up."

"What?"

"I don't want to be here when Jon gets here. The guy just… he creeps me out, all right? It's kind of like being afraid of clowns." Dallas shivers again. "Besides, Matt, he's just-come on, Matt, the guy's a fucking dickhead. For starters, look at what he did to your face!"

"I don't even remember getting it," he mumbles honestly. Dallas shakes his head. "Just… go back to your car, Dallas. Before he gets here and freaks, okay?"

Dallas scoffs. "Why the fuck should I care? He's an asshole." He looks off down the road for a moment, and then turns back to Matt. "Come on. Just… Get in with me, will you?"

"I can't!" As soon as he finishes saying it, Matt hears his father's car rushing down the street. "Oh, great. You didn't listen and now we're too-do something." Dallas looks at him, madly confused. "Something! Touch me, I don't know! Just… something!"

It must be in the tone that Dallas gets it, because his hand immediately flies from his pocket to Matt's face; his hand feels awkward.

His father speeds up.

"Not enough," Matt says, hating the panic in his voice. Dallas places his other hand on Matt's face; the car speeds up more. "Not enough!"

His heart beats wildly, and Matt's almost positive that Dallas is leaning towards him, slowly. His eyes aren't closed, and Matt's sure he imagines the panic in his eyes.

Luckily, a horn honks just in time and Dallas turns away. "Oh, thank Christ," he says softly, voice shaking, and pulls his hands down from Matt's face before wiping them across his own. "Never again, you hear me?"

Matt hears him. He just hopes he gets to live up to it.

"Heath!" Jon calls as he's getting out of the car. "You're about two hours early!"

"Always calling me 'Heath'," Dallas mutters before he turns around to face Jon. "Yeah, actually, it turns out that I have a phone interview at six, so… Here I am." He pauses, then continues with, "It's not a problem, right?" Matt actually believes the hesitance in his voice, but it's likely for different reasons than what Dallas is trying to mold it into.

Jon nods slowly, then says, "No, not a problem at all. Keep an eye on him. We can't have him running off on me." He smiles; the rotten canines on his bottom jaw stand out among the yellowed ones.

Matt cringes. He's standing close enough to Dallas to catch the shiver that runs down his back in response to Jon's teeth. "Absolutely." He clears his throat and shifts his weight between his feet for a moment. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you. About-about Matt. Just, just a few, uh, questions."

Again, Jon nods slowly before saying, "Sure. Matt, go keep Harlan company." To Dallas, he says, "Make it snappy; he's waiting for me."

Before Matt even has a chance to move, Dallas says, voice awkward with contained anger, "Actually, since I'm paying for time right now, I'd rather Matt wait in the car." The tone of possession that invades when Dallas says his name doesn't go unnoticed by Jon.

"Well… Not into sharing, are we? All right. Well, Matt, you heard the man. Get going."

For a moment, Matt expects Dallas to stop him and say that he can wait for him right here, but the look on both their faces - the clear don't try me look Matt's learned to notice before it's even there - sends him walking towards Dallas' Volvo. Before Matt's even opened the door, the screen door slams behind him; they've left him anyway.

Still, obedient as ever, Matt listens to his orders and gets in the passenger seat of the car, waiting. For what feels like hours, Matt watches the doors and windows of his father's house closely, waiting, searching for any sign of something going wrong.

Just as fear starts to creep up on him, Dallas stumbles out the front door. Matt reaches for the passenger door handle and actually pulls on it before his father steps out behind Dallas. He lets go.

Jon doesn't seem to be actively trying to hurt Dallas - he's a source of income, Matt thinks, why should he be? - so Matt's content to leave the door handle where it is and stay in the safe confines of the car. Dallas storms up to the driver's door, calling to Jon, who stands on the porch, unmoving, with a tone that Matt can't decipher through the material of the car, and finally, he opens the door and climbs in.

"The fucking asshole!" Dallas calls, reaching across Matt's knees to get to the glove box. Blood drips from his hand to his pants. Matt doesn't take his eyes off his father, still standing on his porch, as Dallas grabs onto the napkins and presses them to his mouth. "Punched my tooth out of place, which means I'm going to have to fix the fucking thing, again." He sighs, putting the car into gear and burning rubber trying to get away.

"Gotta give that other old fucker credit, though," he says, his voice muffled by the napkins. "He's got a hell of a punch."

Matt swallows. "Thankfully, I wouldn't know." Harlan has so far appreciated Matt too much to actually lay a hand on him that would leave a mark.

"Better me than you," Dallas replies quietly as he runs a stop sign. He doesn't say anything else regarding the matter until Matt asks.

"What exactly went down?"

Dallas shrugs. "I was talking to Jon about extended, uh, visits, and Harlan overheard and lost his mind over it." Matt stays silent until Dallas continues. "He started to say things about you, and when I told him he'd better watch his mouth when I'm around, he decked me." Dallas chances a look over at Matt, continuing once he sees how tightly Matt has his jaw clamped shut. "Don't worry; I got a few good hits in before the bastard really took me down."

"What'd, what'd Jon do?"

"…Freaked out. Evidently he's not used to clients fighting." He grips the wheel tighter. Matt imagines the scene in his mind, and then can't get it out.

"Uh…" He shakes his head. "Just-how extended are we talking about, here?"

Dallas clears his throat. The silences between Matt's questions and Dallas' answers seem to keep growing. "Seven months."

Matt feels time stop; the world around him moves like molasses, deliberately trying to trip him up. "Seven months?" He chokes on the words. "Seven months?"

Dallas stops at the stop sign this time, but he doesn't make eye contact with Matt even though he easily could. "He said he wanted a few million dollars."

"I-Oh, God." Matt feels his esophagus clenching and unclenching in time with the bile climbing up his throat. "I think I'm going to be sick." Dallas pulls off to the side of the road, and Matt vaguely hears him instructing him to put his head between his knees, but he's too panicked at the words Dallas has already said - a million dollars, seven months - to comprehend it fully.

By the time he can think again, all he can think about is how he knew his father had a price on his head but he'd never expected to know what it was. He's not sure if he's disappointed or amazed.

Regardless of his personal feelings, it's still a lot of money, and asking anybody to pay that amount… Jon knows Dallas can't go through with it. "OhmyGod,"

"Breathe, Matt; in through the nose, out through the mouth," Dallas says softly, rubbing Matt's back comfortingly. Even for Dallas, that can't be a number he can come up with in any amount of time. It can't be a number he's willing to get together.

Eventually, Matt regains control of his breathing, and Dallas removes his hand from Matt's back as he sits up. Matt feels him tensing up as he pulls back out onto the road.

He takes a deep breath, then speaks lowly so Matt has to strain to hear him, "I… I can't do it, Matt." He barely glances towards him, then turns back away. "I'm sorry."

Dallas runs a red light, but pays no attention; neither does the cop sitting on the side of the road. Matt focuses on the scenery moving past him quickly. After so long, Dallas speeds up and bites on his nails in nervousness.

I can't do it.

Despite having not expected it, Matt can't help but feel a little disappointed.

That night, Dallas barely says a word. They watch bad Friday night television dramas and reality shows, and Dallas orders pizza for dinner without saying anything. From the outside, it's a normal evening; on the inside, Matt can tell, by the way Dallas only begins sentences and never finishes them, that he doesn't know what to tell Matt.

Not that it particularly matters, anyway. Matt's sure he'd kill the conversation quick if it started, anyway.

At eleven thirty, Dallas rises from the couch, stretching his arms above his head in what Matt imagines is an attempt at normalcy. "I'm going to bed." Matt nods slowly, not sure how he should be reacting to this. "You too?"

He shrugs, staring at the blank television screen in front of him. It's probably coming off as defensive or offensive, or angry, but Matt isn't aiming for any of those. He has no idea what to say anymore. It's almost as though his curiosity has completely ruined whatever semblance of a real friendship the two of them had managed to create.

The behavior still strikes Dallas the wrong way, though. "I can't do it, okay?" he grumbles, gripping at his hair. "I'm not made of money."

Matt cringes at the tone of his voice, but nods anyway, still unmoving. "Okay."

"Oh, fuck. I mean… I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. This…" he chuckles humorlessly; a bit desperately, actually. "I'm really not used to this sort of thing. Paying for someone's time… to be honest, I never thought I'd find myself in this situation.

"I don't regret it," he says immediately when Matt looks down at the floor. "Because any time that I'm paying for you, you're staying away from any of those creeps that Jon hangs around with, but it's not…"

"I get it," Matt says, nodding slowly, still staring at the floor. These words hit him harder than anything else Dallas has ever told him. "Maybe you should just let me go, then."

Dallas laughs dryly, stepping backwards and digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. "No way. If my getting my ass kicked on a weekly basis is what it takes to keep you from creeps like Harlan, I'll gladly do it. Besides," he says, voice rough with contained emotion. "I can't. If I let you run away, Jon would murder me and eventually find you out anyway." He slumps back into the couch next to Matt. "And Alex…"

Matt makes it a point not to move. Alex?

Sighing, Dallas shakes his head.

"You might have an ulterior motive," Matt finally says after a long bout of silence. Dallas looks up, startled. "For all I know, maybe you do want to do what the others do, but you're afraid of it getting around." It's a long shot, and Matt has no idea how Dallas will take it, but any response is going to tell him how to act around Dallas, at least; that's more than he's expected with any of the others.

What he doesn't expect, though, is Dallas' immediate own-up to the accusation. "You're right." Matt feels his muscles tensing again. "About the ulterior motive, not about…" He clears his throat, then says, "I used to live with this guy. Alex. My best friend." Matt hates the feeling Dallas' words put in his chest. "He died, about a year ago."

With no idea what to say, Matt keeps his mouth shut and his eye on the coffee table in front of them. "So, yeah, you're right. I do have an ulterior motive," he continues quietly. The hum of electricity pulses against Matt's eardrums. "The house is huge. It gets… lonely, sometimes."

"Sure," Matt says hollow, shaking his head. It's too much - Matt's having a hard enough time believing that Dallas actually likes him.

"You-I know it's a lot to take in," Dallas says, standing back up from the couch and starting towards the kitchen. "So, just… Don't worry about it for now." He picks up his glass from the table. "And let me deal with Jon."

Long after he hears Dallas' bedroom door close, Matt stays seated on the couch. His breathing doesn't return to normal until he hears loud snoring travel down the stairs, but the shudder in his left hand doesn't stop.