I do not own The Outsiders.

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. . .

Bob's POV

As soon as that Two-Bit guy finally sat down at Dally's order we fell into silence. I couldn't take it. We needed to fix things. I mean we had to hide in goddamn bushes to get here because we were scared our friends were going to jump us. I hated greasers, and now I'm one of them. No, you're not one of them, you're nothing like them. Except maybe in looks. But that's temporary...right? Yes it is! It is it is it is it is it is it is it...

"I need a friggin' shower," I finally said, shutting up my own thoughts. I needed to clear my head. Paul scoffed beside me .

"Your saying. At least you don't have a pound of grease in your hair."

I narrowed my eyes at him, daring him to say more. He probably would have, if Randy didn't interrupt. "You can both have a shower, just calm down. No ones happy with this, you don't gotta be a fucking drama queen over it though. Bob you can use mine, Paul you can use my parents. I'm gonna use Davie's. And you three," he ordered, giving the three greasers a stern look. "Try not to break anything."

"But what if I want a shower?" Two-Bit asked innocently. I was ready to punch him, and made a move to but Paul shoved me back saving his body. Randy sighed. "There's one on the main floor down the hall, the first right." Two-Bit sat back pleased, but made no move to take an actual shower as we all could predict.

I physically felt myself relax as I walked out of the dining room, the door swinging back behind me. I parted ways with Paul and Randy at the top of the main stairs. I shut his door behind me, leaning against it and sliding to the floor, letting a loud breath of air escape me. After feeling my body completely relax I looked up from my hands looking around his room. It was the same as always, messy and completely Randy. I looked at the bed for an instant, a new thought entering my head as I wondered where they all slept the night before, who had to take the ground and who claimed the bed. Or did they even sleep? Maybe they stayed up all night talking. About what?

I thought for a minute letting my head lean back against the door. Suddenly I jerked it upright. Why did I care? As long as they didn't mess anything up it shouldn't matter to me. Shaking my head free of those thoughts I stood up relieving myself of Winston's old beaten jacket, dropping it carelessly on the floor on the way to Randy's bathroom. Before I reached the doorway I had managed to strip down, some what painfully from my injuries, to his jeans.

I kicked the door behind me shut with my foot, freezing as I caught a glimpse in the mirror while undoing his belt. It felt so wrong- this wasn't my body. The original repulsion was soon overcome by curiousity however.

I smiled a little, watching amused as Dallas Wiston's lips twisted into a smile. This new expression got me laughing, then howling. Everytime I looked up in the mirror I'd lose it, watching him seem so vulnerable and...normal. Pretty soon my reflection's face reddened as I gasped for air, clutching my screaming ribs.

Once I finally got under control, I stood up straight and studied hi- me again. I twisted a little to the side to get a look at my injured ribs I'd noticed yesterday while fighting him, and was feeling ever since. I almost regretted taking those cheap shots on him yesterday after feeling them ache for a full day. The bruising stood out clearly spreading out on his side in a black and purple patch, the swelling prominent. My opposite arms reached across to prob it gently causing myself to wince. "Well that's broken..." I mumbled to myself, moving on from them.

I looked a little more closly, picking out all his scars and bruising and cuts, all in different stages of healing. After a few minutes and being no closer to feeling comfortable in this body I stopped trying to even guess were some of the wounds came from.

Looking back at the mirror I made my face go emotionless, looking identical to the real Dallas Winston. I let out a defeated sigh. "Guess I better shower then.."

Awkwardly I undid his belt, dropping his pants around my ankles. I winced away, looking everywhere but the mirror or at myself as I turned on the water feeling as if I was watching Dallas Winston undress himself instead of me. The hot steam reached my skin, erasing every thought I had of just abandoning this entire ordeal. Even the promising hot water couldn't keep me from dropping his underwear though. It was just...weird. And way too fruitcake-like for me.

I stepped in the water, relishing as it scolded my skin. I shut my eyes and just stood under the flowing water. It may had been one minute or ten minutes later when I opened my eyes. I looked at soap bar to my right, grabbing it with my right hand. I held it for a minute before setting it back down. I shut of the taps obediently after fighting with myself, my logical half winning.

I wanted to just get back to myself. I wanted to be able to know every bit of my body and not have to drop things because I can't always remember how long my arms are. I wanted to be able to get completely naked and wash myself and not feel gay or awkward. I wanted to get back to normal.

Sighing I opened the shower door, stepping out of it. I only got one leg out before someone grabbed me and shoved me against the counter. Instinctivly I tried to hit the attacker, but he held my arms tight. I grunted in frustration only to look up and see my own face.

"Dallas..." I growled.

"Calm the fuck down. I'm gonna let you go and you're not going to punch me, because you'll be punching yourself. And I'm not going to kill you, because I'm not going to kill myself. Got it?" he ordered, releasing me after a moment. I stepped sideways, moving to the other side of the room.

"Pass me that towel." I finally said.

He did eventually, but being Dallas he waited and gave me a hard stare for what felt like an hour before doing it. I tied it around my waist before looking at him again. "What do you want?" I asked bluntly.

Instead he laughed mockily at me. "Are you honestly covering up infront of me? You do realize it's my body, huh? Like, my arms and my hair and my cock?" he said, smirking.

I glared at him. I wasn't 'covering up'- I was wet and cold. But I didn't need to explain the difference to him. "What do you want Winston?" I asked again.

He leaned non-chalantly against the door. "To tell you to get yer ass downstairs, and to make sure you weren't jacking off or something in here."

I rolled my eyes. "No worries, your underwear stayed on."

He cocked a brow, pushing himself up from a door. "Seriously? I'd think you'd be comfortable with dick after all the ones you've been around."

"Ha ha," I said sarcastically to his back as he left the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. "Asshole."

. . .

So this one was just Bob...I don't know, it just kinda turned out like that. But whatever, it is what it is.

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