WHOA, I just published this without a disclaimer by accident! Been a while since I posted a story: my bad! I do not own Two-Bit or Kathy, S.E. Hinton does. Danny and Anna Harris are used with permission - they are somebluedecember's. I also have to credit somebluedecember with influencing my interpretation of Two-Bit and Kathy's relationship... because she writes them splendidly! But she knows I adore and worship her and am not plagiarizing. :-) She just inspired this two-shot. Enjoy.

Pulling into the lot at the Dingo, Two-Bit glanced down at his watch. Six-fifteen.

Late.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, hoping Kathy had hit traffic, and by some miracle he'd arrived ahead of her. A quick glance through the large front window quickly dissolved that idea, however, and he noticed that she, also, was focused on her watch, a noticeable frown on her face.

Hell, he knew she'd be mad at him – he expected her to be mad at him – but he hadn't expected to be completely stopped in his tracks by how unbelievably good she looked. For as long as they'd been dating, it amazed him that she still had the power to stop his breathing with just a glance in her direction. The new mini-skirt trend was something that really worked for a girl with legs like hers. Paired with the heeled sandals she was wearing and the sleeveless sweater that left very little to the imagination – not that Two-Bit had to imagine anything; he'd seen it all - she looked drop-dead gorgeous.

Except for the frown.

Taking a deep breath, he gave a quick wave to a few guys he knew hanging outside the door but didn't stop to talk, not wanting to be any later than he already was. He watched her as he headed over to the booth where she sat, hanging on to the slight hope that he might see something other than that frown when she saw him. Finally, as he passed the booth next to hers, she looked up in his direction.

There was something- a glint in her eye, a slight upturning at the corners of her mouth - but it lasted only a second and could hardly be called a smile. It was far from the amazing, full-lipped toothy smile that he saw when he managed to crack her up - or that deep, sexy laugh he so loved hearing. It was nothing like the lazy smile she gave him after a particularly heated but tender encounter in his car or bed – or, more rarely, her bed. It wasn't a smile – or even close – and he had to admit - it was extremely disappointing, if not totally expected.

He'd had no misconceptions about how this would go. He knew she'd be upset. In fact, he'd asked her to meet him in a public place hoping maybe it would keep the drama to a minimum. Not that they hadn't made their share of scenes in any number of public places in the past – but he knew she disliked it and would most likely just walk out on him before she'd let it escalate into a screaming match in the middle of the restaurant. Not that he wanted her walking out, either.

One thing he hadn't realized was how much he'd missed her – how much he wanted and needed to see that smile – and how reassuring it would be to get it – until he didn't. She didn't even offer a hello in greeting.

A sick feeling began a slow creep into the pit of his stomach.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, his hand grazing the back of her neck, expecting – hoping – that she would slide over so he could sit next to her in the booth.

"You're late," she said, flatly. She didn't budge. He didn't want to take his hand off of her, so he slid his hand down her shoulder to take hold of her own and pulled it across the table in his, as he sat on the opposite side of the booth, directly across from her.

His immediate instinct was to offer an excuse – spin some yarn about how he got tied up at the Curtis's, he had to drive his sister Katie somewhere, or run an errand for his Ma – but he could tell from the tone of her voice that she didn't care. He was late – that was that, and there was no excuse– and she was plenty pissed off. And she was right - the only true reason was that he couldn't get his shit and his nerves together quickly enough to be there on time. He hated this whole situation every single time it happened – and yet he realized that every single time it did, it was his own fault.

"I know," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry."

He had never started off right away with an apology, and she seemed slightly taken aback. She drew in a breath and as her eyes lifted to meet his, he raised her hand to his mouth to kiss it, but she pulled it away, folding her hands into her lap and shaking her head. He'd seen her upset before – hell, he'd certainly given her plenty of occasions to be pissed off at him, but her hand had never been off limits before, for Christ's sake… and suddenly he felt a feeling he'd never had before. She doesn't even want me touching her, he realized, and the sick feeling intensified.

"Kathy," he started and was shocked at the unexpectedly pleading tone in his voice. He would have been embarrassed, probably, to be speaking to a girl in such a tone with so many people around, but this awful feeling in his gut somehow convinced him that it was okay, and maybe even necessary in this situation.

She looked up at him and the sadness and disappointment clear on her face made him realize immediately that the feeling he was experiencing was a nauseating combination of shame and fear. Shame that he had gone and disappointed her yet once again, and fear that this time he'd really, truly gone one step too far and crossed that invisible line that determined whether "Two-Bit and Kathy" as a real entity was even possible anymore. She'd been mad at him before – furious, even – but that look she gave him, well, it scared him more than he'd have dared believe possible.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, almost a whisper, wishing more than anything that she'd let him hold her hand. The chemistry between the two of them had always been so strong that, so long as they were connected, he was sure she heard what he was saying and could equally well read what he was thinking. Hell, she'd always been able to read him – she knew when he was bullshitting (and hated it) but he always felt that she knew when he was shit-serious, too, and that was what, eventually, he figured, had her forgiving him whenever he messed up – because she knew that his feelings for her went far deeper than just some girl he thought was cute or sexy. He really cared about her – and he thought – he hoped – that she knew it.

He'd actually reckoned quite a few times over the eighteen months since they'd first gotten together – including every time he'd been in lockup, away from her, since then – that he might actually love her – but he'd only worked up the guts to say it a few times when he wasn't pumped up full of liquor. Only twice, actually: once after she'd held him in her bed as he cried shamelessly over Dally and Johnny's deaths, and once as she sat with him in the waiting room as Katie was having an emergency appendectomy. The kid had complained to him all afternoon about her stomachache and he'd told her to "suck it up and wait until ma got home." Turns out she could've died.

The memory made him remember what a real asshole he could be at times and he felt a heightened fear that he'd just plain gone too far this time. Her eyes seemed to confirm it and he was too panicked to say anything, knowing for certain that whatever it was, it would surely be the wrong thing. Their stares seemed locked until finally she looked down into her lap.

"What're we even doing, Two Bit?" she asked, finally. He'd seen her sad – he'd heard her cry more than once – but the desperation he could sense in her voice right then made his hairs stand on end. He was right – he had really messed up this time, there was no doubt about it in his mind, hearing that voice.

"Kathy… baby," he reached out and tried to lift her chin to look up at him but she turned her head away. He felt a tear on his thumb and his heart wrenched so hard he wondered for a second if he was having a heart attack. A heartbreak attack, if that was even a real thing. Fuck, he was making her cry again. Why did he keep insisting on screwing things up?

"No!" she snapped, loud enough that he jumped back a little and more than a few other customers turned to stare. Two-Bit eyed them right back and most immediately looked away.

"No," she repeated, more quietly. "No more calling me baby, no kissing my hand, or touching me, just to make me forgive you. No telling jokes and pretending that what we're doing is normal, or okay." She took a deep breath. "We've done all that – we've pretended it's okay…. It's not. It's not okay that you keep hurting me, and I keep forgiving you…. I can't do it anymore. I can't…" She finally looked up and met his gaze and he was surprised at the steadiness of her voice despite the fact that tears were freely streaming down her cheeks.

He couldn't open his mouth. What he felt was definitely fear, and he was absolutely paralyzed by it – and the possibility that she was breaking up with him, for good. And – to make it worse, as usual - he couldn't remind himself quite enough, it seemed - it was all his own doing.

Right then he knew it for shit-sure: he was in love with her. And he had been so terrified by that realization every single time he'd had it, that every time things had been going great he had immediately followed it up with some kind of extremely bad behavior or decision-making that had served to ruin the potentially perfect relationship between the two of them. This time was no exception.

Except, it seemed, that it might be the first time she truly refused to forgive him.

And he couldn't blame her.

He was tempted to apologize again but he knew it wouldn't be enough. It couldn't possibly be enough. She was looking at him, though, staring - and as much as he hated the look in her eyes, he wouldn't look away. He would hold on to whatever she was giving, even if the look in her eyes pierced his being and made him feel like the worst person alive. Which, he had to admit, he might well be.

"It was my prom, Two-Bit. My senior prom."

He'd tried to downplay it, in lockup. It was unfortunate, that he'd gotten two days rather than just the normal one for shoplifting – but apparently lighters were considered hazardous materials since they contained butane, and lifting an entire case bought you an extra night in Tulsa County lockup, with the unlikely charge of "illegal transportation of hazardous materials." And the funny part was - he hadn't even had his car. He'd illegally transported them in his pocket.

He had felt like a complete shit, though, sitting in the cell knowing he was supposed to be picking up Kathy for prom, half-hoping someone else would take her, after all her work making her dress and all, but completely hating - and feeling downright sick about - the fact that she'd be going out on a date with someone else. He hadn't slept, thinking about it - and knowing that what was supposed to be one of the best nights of her life had been completely ruined, by him.

On top of that, knowing what went on after most proms, he was terrified that she might have messed around on him, just for spite. Not that he didn't deserve it, but the thought still made bile rise into his throat. He should have been with her, for her prom – both at and after.

But he wasn't, because he was an idiot.

"I know. I'm sorry." He wasn't sure, besides that time with Katie's appendix, that he had ever really felt so sorry in his entire life. He felt sorry – and scared. Terrified. He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to ask. He needed to know, but wasn't sure he wanted to know. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, but he cringed as he asked.

"Did ya go? To prom?"

"Yes."

The bitterness in her answer just about killed him, as he realized that she must have wanted it to be him with her as much as he had… yet he had fucked up the whole thing for both of them. Typical Two-Bit Mathews. She deserved ten times the guy he'd ever be. He felt his stomach seize, and hoped he wasn't going to be sick. The waitress had approached the table a few times already but had clearly felt the tension and backed off. He looked away from Kathy for a second, caught the waitress's eye and motioned for two cokes. He didn't know if Kathy's stomach needed settling – he doubted it, judging from the steadiness in her voice - but his sure did. When he finally looked back at Kathy, her eyes were back in her lap.

"So… who with?"

He hated himself immediately for asking. He wanted to know, but a million times more than that, he didn't want to know. He had a million names running through his head, names of guys he knew would give anything to get into her pants, and he hated himself more than anything at that moment for handing them an opportunity. Because he was a weak bastard and made bad choices, he'd left an amazing girl like Kathy dateless on the night of her senior prom - and wide open to a ton of unwelcome advances, without him even around to look out for her. He again surpressed the urge to be sick. Christ, the thought of someone taking her to prom, and taking advantage… He shook his head, refusing to let his mind even go there. He had no doubt that he could – and would - actually kill anyone who did something like that to her.

The cokes arrived and he immediately drank half of his, just barely hearing her answer.

"Danny Harris."

He felt immediate relief at hearing the name. Danny was the older brother of Anna - a friend of Kathy's, and Two-Bit was pretty sure he'd probably taken Kathy as a favor to Anna. He had a girl of his own and was far more likely to kick someone else's ass for trying to get into Kathy's pants than to try and get there himself.

However, that didn't change the fact that her date should have been Two-Bit, and they both knew it.

He wasn't sure what was the right thing to say, but saying something seemed necessary. He gave it his best try.

"Hope you had a good time. Wish it'd been me, though." It was true. Well, the second part, anyway.

She looked up again, straight at him, with pure spite.

"I wish it had been you, too. It should have been you, Two-Bit. The only reason it wasn't you is you!"

Her accusation was harsh, brutal, and one hundred percent accurate, and Two-Bit felt a whole new wave of hatred for himself. It had already been established that "I'm sorry" wasn't enough, so he had no idea what he could possibly say.

"I know."

The pain in her eyes was killing him. Why was he so weak – why was he such an ass, hurting the person he loved and trusted the most, despite the fact that he knew that every time he failed her she built up that wall between them just a little bit more? Never before had she pulled her hand away – she had always allowed at least that small bit of contact. They sat on opposite sides of the booth – her body seemed drawn in toward itself – she didn't want him touching her – and it was killing him. All he had was her gaze, and he felt lucky to still have that. Finally he found the guts to speak.

"I…"

"I…" she started at the same time. "Go ahead," she immediately added.

"Naw, I'm the asshole. You deserve to say whatever you want." He truly believed it, too.

She blinked at his admission, seemingly surprised to hear him admit to being something as serious as an asshole. He'd definitely called himself an idiot before… but asshole was new.

She took a deep, shaky breath, and he could tell she was still fighting back tears.

"Just… why, Two-Bit? Why do you keep doin' this? I mean; you're goin' to jail for stealin' stuff you don't even need… or want."

She'd asked him before, in less serious situations, and he'd never had a good answer. But she was right – he didn't need a case of lighters, yet he'd missed her prom – broken her heart – gotten them here, again - because he'd gotten his ass caught trying to steal one.

"I don't know."

He'd said this a million times before when asked the same question by countless people. It didn't ever before seem like a lie, but it was, it had to be, and he knew it the minute he uttered the words this particular time. Who the hell did stupid shit that got them sent to jail on the weekend of his girlfriend's prom, with no reason? He didn't readily have an answer – but there had to be one, somewhere….

"You don't know," she repeated, emotionlessly.

There was a reason, he was sure. There must be a reason. He just didn't want to think about it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was – and he was even more sure that if he figured it out, he wouldn't want to share it with anyone else. Because it would probably be every bit as idiotic as his behavior. He tried to decide waht to say and before he could, she exploded in anger.

"You don't know? You don't know, Two-Bit? So you missed my prom, the most important night of high school for a girl, and you missed seeing me in a dress I spent three months making just because I wanted to see your reaction to me wearing it, and you don't know why you chose to try to steal a box of lighters that you didn't need, and could have easily bought if you did need them? Not to mention the fact that you hardly ever smoke, and all of your friends who do smoke like fiends would have a lighter in their pockets for you to use anytime. But… you don't know?"

She was crying now – really crying, almost sobbing - and he hated it. She was trying not to, he could tell – but she was. She was angrier and clearly more hurt than she'd been after any other time he'd ever screwed up – and rightfully so.

He was frozen, again. He still had no good reply and the millions of potential replies in his head failed to sort themselves out in time to formulate any sort of acceptable response. So he said nothing. His eyes met hers for a second but his thoughts were too conflicted to convey any sort of easily read message. So she seemed to assume the worst.

"Look, I just can't do this anymore - I'm just gonna go. Thanks for the coke." She slid out of the seat, wiping at her eyes, and was gone before he could even grab her arm.

Still frozen, he watched her walk out the door before he realized what was going on and sprang from his seat.

Panicking, he tossed far more cash than was necessary for two cokes onto the table and chased her out the door, not caring about the people he knew were laughing at him on the way out. Two-Bit Mathews did not generally chase after girls.

But this was no ordinary girl.