Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, or "Being Your Woman" by Paris Wells.

As usual, this ties in to all my other fics. It takes place a little over a month after Sway ended. Happy Good Fic Day!

Warning: This chapter has a very high T rating. Not worth an M, but perhaps worth a warning )

CHAPTER ONE
Saturday, July 29th, 1967

And, babe, I couldn't take the way you're mixing love with medicine,
Couldn't fucking stand the way you left me.

The car was idling, Kathy's hands cold around the steering wheel as she listened to Hank Williams blaring from inside Buck's. She knew this song by heart - had the beat and words memorised because she'd heard it so many times before. There wasn't a word she didn't know, or a bridge she couldn't sing, and despite herself, her fingers tapped in time to the music. She would never admit it to anybody, but she had never really minded the cowboy or his Lovesick Blues.

Biting her lip, she leaned forward in her seat as the door to the busy roadhouse opened, but quickly leaned back again, unsure if she wanted to be seen yet. She was going in - there was no doubt about that - but for now, until she managed to steel herself for what was going to happen, she wanted to stay out of sight. She wanted to stay unnoticed. Hell, she wanted to stay sane.

Because she knew - knew for dead certain - that the moment she stepped into the roadhouse she had spent more hours in than she could count, every bit of good sense she owned would leave her. It would get stuck in the doorway, trapped in the crowed, and stumped at the stairs, before finally catching up to her in a filthy bedroom, in the grimy bathroom, against a flimsy wall in a deserted hallway.

Funny how it always caught up with her at the worst of times, making her feel like Tulsa's biggest tramp.

With a purse of her glossed lips, she peeled her hands off the steering wheel. On nights like these, they seemed to have a mind of their own. A mind that could never be made up. Half the time her fingers were tingling - itching with the need to grab the door handle and pull. The rest of the time they were wrapped around the steering wheel - attached to it like it was a damn life preserver; let go, and she drowns.

It was times like that when her hands seemed more trustworthy than her own mind.

Going into that roadhouse, letting him into her bedroom, climbing out of her car and into the one next to hers … it was all killing her. Problem was, she didn't always mind so much.

Wiping her palms on her dress, she let out a puff of air and glanced at the passenger seat. It was still there, and she had to stop her hands from going against her head and picking it up. Of course it was still there; she had barely let it leave her sight in the months since she'd received it. However, she didn't need to read it again. She had read it more times than she could count. It had been unfolded and refolded so many times the creases were getting soft, the envelope beginning to tear.

She dragged her gaze away and glanced at her watch, squinting to make out the time in the minimal light coming from Buck's. 10:15pm. She had agreed to meet Two-Bit at ten, but didn't hurry to climb out of the car. There was a good chance he'd be too drunk to remember their plans anyway, and if he wasn't, he would be too eager for their plans to commence to be pissed at her.

It was times like those that she missed being with him, dating him, having him as her boyfriend. He hadn't been her boyfriend for a while now. Five months, in fact.

Well, five months, two week, and four days. Twenty-four weeks. One hundred and sixty-eight days.

Sometimes - when she was feeling good about things - that didn't sound like very long, but she'd always been good at math. Five months, two weeks, and four days quickly became almost six months. Less than two weeks from six months. Thirteen days away from six months.

Thirteen was supposed to be an unlucky number … luckily, she didn't believe in that kind of crap.

She believed in facts, data, evidence. All evidence pointed toward her and Two-Bit having been broken up for close to half a year. That amount of time sure did sound permanent.

Sitting on her tingling hands, she attempted to both warm them and ignore their need to reach for the door handle. She didn't need her trigger-happy fingers to make that decision for her, because there was no decision to be made. She was going inside, but she would go when she was good and ready, thank you very much.

And at that moment, she was far from ready. Her eyes had begun to water, and the last thing she needed was to ruin her make-up anymore than what the activities to come would do for her. Well, that was the second-to-last thing she needed. The very last thing she needed was to be crying over Two-Bit Mathews. Again.

She sighed as she reached up to adjust the rear vision mirror and dab at her eyes. Six months was a long time. The longest, in fact. Before February 11th, the longest time she and Two-Bit had spent apart was six weeks and it had been a damn hard six weeks. The hardest six weeks of her life up until eighteen weeks ago, when she realised that getting past the six week mark she had been at before wouldn't make things any easier.

And she had really thought it would. If she could just get past the amount of time they had been apart before then she could get through anything. She had made it through, but it hadn't gotten any easier.

It wasn't that she regretted breaking up with Two-Bit … or maybe she did. Maybe she missed him. Maybe she wished she could just hint at the idea of getting back together and have him ask her out. Maybe she was just an idiot. Half the time she really didn't know. The other half, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Deciding that almost causing her eye make-up to run was reason enough to quit sitting around letting herself get depressed, she fluffed her hair, re-dabbed her eyes, and scratched the itch in her fingers.

The air was cooler than it should have been for a summers night, but she didn't stop to think about it. Ignoring the people milling about the parking lot, she climbed the steps, took a deep breath, and said a quick 'see ya later' to her common sense. Then she pushed the heavy door open.

Heat, smoke, and the stench of spilt beer enveloped her right away. Making her way toward the bar, she threw a frown at the floor, her boots sticking to whatever mess she was walking through. It was the one thing she hated about Buck's. She could deal with the smoke, the music, and even the drunken idiots, but she hated the sticky mess that could be found everywhere.

She sighed; speaking of messy, strong hands slid onto her hips from behind and the familiar scent of Two-Bit assaulted her senses. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and she leaned back, into his touch.

"Hey, beautiful."

She said nothing, but entwined her fingers with his when they skimmed over her abdomen. He chuckled, and she almost melted into a sticky puddle of her own.

"Wanna come upstairs?" he asked, thumbs stroking her through the material of her dress.

She shivered, ready, eager, desperate to nod in agreement, when some of her common sense caught up with her. Pulling away, she turned to look at him.

"I could use a drink first." She ignored how completely senseless drinking would be.

Two-Bit grinned. "Of course," he said, signalling to Buck. "Where are my manners?"

Kathy didn't respond, but happily downed the shot Two-Bit handed her. It burned, just like always.

Two-Bit didn't give her a chance to ask for another. He took the glass, and slammed it on the bar, before grabbing her hand to lead her up the stairs. She went willingly, just like always.

They were a mess, but then, they kind of always had been. They had been on and off during the entire eighteen months they'd been together. That was until five months, two weeks and four days ago when they had become off for good. Sometimes she wished she wasn't so good with numbers.

"C'mon," Two-Bit muttered, dragging her down the hall.

They were in a bedroom before she could consider saying no. Not that she would. Occasionally she could get her mind right and her body cooperating, but it didn't happen often. Definitely not as often as it should. Although, probably far too often for Two-Bit's liking.

Looking around the room, she sighed. It was a simple bedroom, but a bedroom nonetheless. As far as she was concerned, anything was better than the disgusting area Buck liked to call a bathroom. That place was nauseating and she felt dirty just thinking about all the people who used it for more than it was meant to be used for. Then she remembered a particular double date where she and Two-Bit had deserted Steve and Evie, and felt a small fondness for the bathroom.

She heard the bedroom door close and turned to look at Two-Bit. He was sliding the key into his pocket, an intense look on his face, and it made her miss the other side of him all over again. She never got to be with fun-loving Two-Bit anymore. She didn't get to be with carefree Two-Bit, relaxed Two-Bit, or easy-going Two-Bit. Now days she only got the Two-Bit who was trying to get her into bed … or already had her in bed.

Flirtatious Two-Bit, who winked at her across the room and stood behind her minutes later, whispering wonderfully filthy things in her ear. Seductive Two-Bit, who traced her jaw with one finger, knowing it was enough to get what he wanted, but always letting his finger slip down past her collarbone anyway. Teasing Two-Bit, who held her wrists above her head, forcing her to look at him as he moved excruciatingly slowly inside of her.

He advanced on her; slow, lazy steps matching the leisurely rake of his gaze over her body. She backed up until she was pressed against the dresser, hands resting on its dusty surface. No words were spoken, but that wasn't unusual. A small shudder ran through her as he leaned over her, hands resting on either side of her own, his body a fraction away from touching her. A small smirk played at his lips and she raised a cocky eyebrow in response.

She might have been a living, breathing doormat when it came to Two-Bit Mathews, but she could hold her own.

"You were late," he said, lips barely moving.

She gave a careless shrug. She had, in fact, been early, but he didn't need to know that. Though she couldn't help but be surprised that he had even noticed. It wasn't that he was unobservant - she just didn't think he cared enough to notice something so insignificant.

One of his fingers brushed over her knuckles, as soft as his breath on her face. She swallowed heavily, and his eyes darkened. Closing the small distance between them, his tongue traced a path along her jaw and her eyes fluttered shut.

She wanted him. God help her, she would always want him.

All coherent thought left her the moment his tongue touched her skin. Her common sense was gone and her mind wasn't working - making decisions for her was her heart and the strong burning in the pit of her stomach. Lust.

Her hands were at the hem of his shirt, tugging and pulling, frantic and desperate to touch the skin beneath. He let out another chuckle and pushed his hips against her own, ending her attempts with the quick movement. She rested her weight against the dresser and let out a huff.

"What's wrong, beautiful?"

She closed her eyes. Willed herself to hate him. Push him away. Leave the damn bedroom. Just hate him. Her hands were still clutching his shirt, wringing it between her fingers, and she had the urge the rip it to shreds, just out of spite.

His teeth nipped at her earlobe before he continued. "Kathy, baby …" He dragged his lips back across her jaw, stopping in front of her mouth.

Through barely opened eyes, she watched as he sunk his teeth into his lower lip while staring intently at her mouth. He let it go slowly, and she found herself in awe at the pinkness of it, at the way it glistened in the light from the window, wanting nothing more than to reach up and -

"Fuck I miss kissing you," he said, in what almost sounded like pain.

Her eyes widened, mouth opening to say something - anything - but he caught her lips with his own, kissing her deeply as his hands finally moved from the dresser to her hips, tugging at the material of her dress to pull her roughly against himself. She moaned at every bit of contact; his tongue plunging into her mouth, his hips pressing against her own, his smooth skin beneath her fingers that were tingling again.

Despite the teasing way he had treated her when they'd first entered the room, Two-Bit became urgent and needy the moment he kissed her. Lifting her onto the dresser and shoving her dress somewhere up around her waist, his lips and teeth attacked the exposed flesh of her throat, making sure to leave a mark that he knew she hated.

Her body arched into him, all the while her mind silently cursed him. She had never been a fan of hickeys, but since their break-up he'd taken to giving her one every time they were together. Almost as if marking her as his when - as far as he and everyone else were concerned - she was anything but.

All complaints flew out the window when his hands left her hips to knead her thighs, and minutes later, he was sliding her underwear down her legs, throwing it onto the bed. Realising he was still entirely dressed, and doing her best to not throw herself at him anymore than she already had, she went for the button and zipper of his jeans, licking her lips as he stripped himself of his black tee.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into the dresser, using it and his body to keep herself upright as he yanked the straps of her dress and bra down her arm, sending hot kisses over her shoulder and collarbone.

She could tell anyone who asked a million and one terrible things about Two-Bit Mathews, but she could never say he was selfish when it came to sex.

Of course, once the sex was over, everything changed. Her chest tightened. A lump formed in her throat. Her lip trembled.

Her good sense caught up.

Disentangling herself from her sweaty ex-boyfriend, she slid off the dresser, adjusted her clothes, and - while Two-bit was busy doing up his pants - subtly slipped her underwear back on. The silence between them was heavy, and she quietly wondered if this was it. If this would ever happen again, or if this had been the last time. Not the last time she always promised herself, but the honest-to-God last time.

It could be, and she didn't know whether she was happy or broken-hearted about that.

"You need a ride home?"

She turned to look at him and shook her head. "I got my car."

He grinned that peaceful grin he always had after sex, and slipped his t-shirt over his head. "At least let me walk ya to your car."

She shook her head again, needing to be as far away from him as possible. "It's fine."

Looking into his eyes for a moment, she wondered if she could tell him that it wasn't enough. The sex, the flirting banter, the want, the need, the desire - none of it was enough. She needed more from him. She wanted him to love her, to care for her, to treat her the way she wanted, needed, desired to be treated.

Late night rendezvous, leaving right away or sneaking away in the morning, being used for sex … it wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't right.

It wasn't enough, and Two-Bit would never get that.

Not bothering with a goodbye, she left the room and hurried down the steps and out of the roadhouse.

A casual relationship with Two-Bit that involved nothing but sex wasn't something she should be doing. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out. In fact, it was the very last thing she should doing considering the events that had lead up to the two of them breaking up. If anything, a pregnancy scare should have put her off sex at least until her wedding night.

And if that hadn't done it, Two-Bit's reaction surely should have.

He hadn't turned into an unstable drunk after Dallas and Johnny had died, like she had thought he might. Instead, he'd turned into a mean drunk; cussing out people he knew could kick his ass, making nasty remarks to people who were trying to help him, accusing his girlfriend of sleeping around when she'd told him her period was late.

Hell, he hadn't just turned into a mean drunk, he'd become an outright mean person. He hadn't needed the alcohol to make him cruel.

The way he had treated her five months ago had been enough for her to wake up to the chaos she liked to call their relationship, and realise that she deserved better - that it was time to finally let her relationship with him go. Unfortunately for her, it hadn't been enough to change her feelings for him. She had taken a stand, so to speak, and at long last given up on Two-Bit.

Emotionally, anyway.

Her guard was still up, she had adopted the attitude of 'just having a good time', and was determined to keep her emotions out of it. But she still loved him and wasn't ready to let him go completely. Sleeping with him was the only way she could let herself be with him, without really being with him.

Ignoring the looks of people she was sure knew exactly what she had been doing inside Buck's, she climbed into her car, freely letting her eyes land on the envelope in the passenger seat. Gingerly, she picked it up, taking the letter out and rereading it.

None of it mattered anymore; not their break-up, not the mess they were in now, not anything from their past. They were done - the letter said so itself.

There were a few things in life she had given up for Two-Bit Mathews - a chance at a loving relationship, nights with her best friend, and more money than a girl of her social standing had - but a full academic scholarship wasn't going to be one of them.

And I would've stayed by your side,
And we could've made, could've tried.

A/N: Thanks to Sam for beta-reading. This little story only has four chapters, and I hope you guys enjoy it :)