Disclaimer: The Outsiders and its fantastic array of characters are the work of S.E. Hinton. Misfits, which provides the basis for this story, is the brainchild of Howard Overman. I merely own the words for this measly fanfic.
Dally blinked exhausted sleep from his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows carefully. He was somehow in a nice bed with clean, white sheets—that wasn't right. He blearily took in his surroundings. Pristine, clean atmosphere, vases brimming with flowers, and busy nurses bustling about. Oh, God. Dally groaned.
"I fucking hate hospitals," he grumbled aloud, letting his head sink back into the fluffy pillow that it had occupied only moments before.
But wait; what the hell was Dallas Winston doing in a hospital? He would never drag himself here, and no one besides the gang in their right mind would even have the thought to bring Dallas Winston to a hospital. He racked his brains. The last thing he remembered was that he was running away from the fuzz with Two-Bit, and then they got cornered in the lot, it was hailing—Dally prickled. They were all struck by lightning. But that didn't make sense. Dally was sure as hell that people died when they were struck by lightning, and he distinctly remembered the jolts of pain that had coursed through his body, and the smell of his own skin frying. What was he doing here alive? He threw the covers off of himself. He was wearing a hospital gown, much to his distaste. But other than that, he looked positively fine. No charred flesh, maybe his skin was a little more pinker, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. He flexed his hand. Fine. No pain. Dally felt unnerved. It was impossible. Briefly he considered the notion that he had maybe just imagined the bolt of lightning hitting him, but he knew that it did. He shook his head. He'll figure it all out later. First, he had to get out of here, go back to the Curtis house, maybe—He froze. The Curtises. Steve and Two-Bit. Johnny. He looked wildly about. The only other people in the room were a coughing old man and some crying brunette girl.
"Oh, you're awake!" a peppy—a little too peppy for Dally's liking—voice said, and his whipped over to a beaming plump blonde nurse. He scowled. Just great. "Would you like me too—"
"I wouldn't like you to do anything," he growled at her, exhaling sharply, and he smirked when her overly friendly demeanor receded a tiny bit as she jumped back from him, started.
"Oh, well I just—"
"You just nuthin'!" he snapped at her, already annoyed with her. "Now, if you so excuse me—" her eyes flared a bit at his mock politeness—"I'll be on my merry way now."
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that!" she said, trying to push him back down when he tried to get out of the bed, and his blue eyes dramatically narrowed with anger and annoyance.
"Oh, yes, I will," he said snappily, and when she tried to push him again, he smacked her away.
Except, something rather peculiar happened—the front of the nurse's uniform caught on fire. She screamed, patting at them in desperation, and Dally and the other two occupants of the room could only look on in shock. Finally, the nurse—still screaming her head off, of course—ran out of the room, leaving Dally's escape up to him. But instead of running out right away, Dally stared at his hands, which were smoking. Did he do that? Set her dress on fire? All he could remember was getting mad and a strange feeling in his hands, and then… No, it couldn't be. Things like people setting other people on fire was impossible. But then again his hands were smoking… It might have been a trick of the light… He shook his head. He was being stupid. Only Ponyboy would think of such imaginative things. He stiffened as he heard footsteps near his door. Was that broad back already?
"Dallas Winston if I am correct?" his head snapped up and a pudgy man with coke bottle glasses was staring at him somberly. "May I have a word with—"
"Like fuck you will!" he snorted, up on his feet right away, and pushing the man aside, he bolted.
"Mr. Winston! Come back!" voices yelled after him, and he heard people running after him.
"Jesus," he breathed out as he ran down several halls, people staring after him in surprise. He was still trying to get over the fact that someone just randomly caught on fire, but right now there were more important issues to address. He desperately looked around for signs of Johnny or the other boys. "The hell are all of you?"
"Mr. Randle? Mr. Randle, would you wake up please?"
"Wha?" said person with that last name groaned, groggily opening his eyes. "Wha'sgoingon?"
"Oh, good, you got up!" someone with a high-pitched voice cried, and Steve was about to threaten Ponyboy away to enjoy the nice bed. when he realized that it was a nice bed. Steve Randle never woke up in a nice bed; it was either the cold tile floor at his old man's or the Curtises' couch. He woke up more effectively, eyes squinting in the new morning light. "Where am I?"
"The hospital," the same voice from earlier answered, and he looked over to have his eyes nearly bulging out at what he assumed was his nurse.
She was a pretty girl, with long red hair, but that wasn't why he was freaking out. The girl wasn't wearing any fucking clothes. She stood before him, smiling, and clad in her pink ('Oh, dear Lord, 'Steve thought.) lacy panties and matching bra. Seeing as she had a nice, lithe body, he liked what he saw, sure, but this was hella weird. Plus Evie would probably clobber him over the head if he were to have a quickie with a hot nurse.
"Sorry to disappoint sweets, but I'm not interested and think you have the wrong idea," he turned her down nicely, even offering her a smile, and she frowned. Oh, poor thing.
"Excuse me?" she asked, eyebrows knitted together, and he smirked. "Not interested in what exactly?"
"You," he said bluntly. Oh, boy, this broad must be one of them ditz chicks…
"Um, what?" her frown grew deeper. "Did you mean you want a different nurse or…?"
"What? No!" he said, rolling his eyes. How dumb was she? "I don't want to get into your pants!"
"And where'd you get an idea like that?!" she shrieked, girl defenses already on the rise with her cheeks starting to grow crimson, and Steve frowned too, but his frown came from confusion.
"You're standing right there in front of me in your underwear, what kind of idea is a guy supposed to get from that?" he asked, holding up a hand and moving it about her in emphasis.
"What're you talking about? I'm wearing clothes! You're crazy. I oughta call Head Nurse Wilkes—"
"What're you talking about?" Steve asked, clearly at a loss and still waving his hands about at her. "Matching pink bra and panties!"
"You—you perverted little monkey! How are you even seeing them?" she screeched, face now as red as her hair as her hands flew and crossed over her breasts, and now Steve's eyes were nearly out of their sockets because all of a sudden she was naked.
The words "Why do you only have a patch of freckles on the part below your hips" was apparently the wrong thing to say (but then again Steve did not have a filter, and had the terrible habit of saying things before he thought about them), as she slapped him full across the face before running out crying tears of frustration, leaving behind a disgruntled Steve. 'Well, that was sure weird,' he thought to himself, still looking after her in bemusement. How did she manage to get her undergarments off so quickly though? She was right there in front of him, and didn't move an inch. And he knew he wasn't just seeing things from the way she reacted to his remarks. Real weird… He looked around, taking in his surroundings, and blinked when he realized the room he was in—if it was a room, that is. It was huge, and he wondered if the whole floor was the room, given its size. Wait—the whole floor? Steve looked wildly about, confused. He could have sworn before he was the only occupant, but now he could see dozens of patients, people having surgeries, people—oh, gross there was an old man sitting on the loo with a newspaper! This wasn't right. Where were all the walls and doors that separated all of them? And like before with the nurse, Steve could see all those people without their clothes on, and then he could see their skeletons, their pulsing organs. Urk. He bent over, disgusted with what he saw. What the honest hell was going on? Was he going crazy? Was he having a weird ass dream? Why was he literally seeing through people? He groaned. He better lay off the drinking next time. He sank his head back into the pillow. What was he even doing here again? He seemed perfectly fine to himself—holy fucking shit. Steve shot straight up when he remembered, beads of nervous sweat beginning to form on his forehead. They were in a storm last night. They got struck by lightning. How the hell did he survive that? Oh, God, what about the rest of the boys? Steve was suddenly seized by a sense of panic; the guys were the only family he had left, what had happened to them? His best friend Sodapop? Darry and Dally? Wisecracking Two-Bit and timid Johnny? Where was that brat Ponyboy? With every second flying by, his panic and out of whack emotions steadily grew more and more intense, and he felt almost painful pressure at the back of his eyes. The pressure then started to feel almost unbearable, like his eyes were just going to pop out of their sockets, when all of a sudden—BZZZ. The pressure released, and Steve felt like he had just shot heat out of his eyes. When he looked again, he was startled to find a burning hole in the apparent wall in front of him he hadn't seen before.
"What was that?" an ornery voice called, and Steve looked on, bewildered, as an old man with tubing in his nose peeked around the hole. He looked at Steve. "Trying to drill your way out of here, eh?"
"What?" Steve said in response, even more disordered than ever.
"Looks like Mr. Randle's already gotten a hold of his like Mr. Winston's," a male voice remarked from his left, and Steve turned to face a man wearing glasses. He gave the hole in the wall a passing glance before looking at Steve. "Steve Randle?"
"Yessir," he said, nodding dumbly, and the man smiled a little, holding out his hand for him to shake.
"Jerry Wood," the man apparently named Jerry Wood informed him. "We have a lot to talk about."
AN: Aah, I meant to get this out waaayyy out sooner, but suddenly I lost track of anything and gkfjdfklg. My apologies~ I'm also sorry if it seems rushed, I'm not sure how I want to pace this, really. So this is the first part for the boys discovering their powers and stuff, aah, I hope it wasn't too confusing, especially Steve's! ._. Oh, well. I'll be confirming everything next chapter, which fingers crossed is on its merry way on here soon! Thanks for reading, and see you in Chapter Numero Three!