AN: HELLO! Lol chapter 3 is UP! I wanted to thank Lucy E. Simpson Griffin (amazing name btw), MiniArtist, and Two-Bit's Girl14 for their reviews on Chaper 2. :) Reviews make me happy. PLEASE REVIEW
DISCLAIMER: I dont own the Outsiders. YET
(Soda's Pov)
Oh god. It's all my fault. It's my fault that the closest thing I have to another baby brother almost died. It's all my fault! Dallas tosses around in the hospital bed, crying softly to himself. I'm supposed to be convincing him to eat and drink something, but the minute I bring it to his lips he jerks away, feverish eyes blinking furiously, moaning something about how his stomach hurts, and how he doesn't like water.
"Honey, you have to eat something! At least drink some juice!" I beg him, brushing his hair out of his face.
"No, I don't like water! I told you already, Curly! Curly, no!" my heart sinks. He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't know who anyone is, except for Darry. He's been in the hospital for three days, three days of total delirium. Darry was sitting vigil with me today, but the doc called him out to talk to him. Me and Steve are sitting next to Dally's bed, trying to coax him to eat or drink. I hear voices, mainly Darry's, getting raised in the hallway, then Darry wheels into the room, slamming the door behind him. He thrusts his hands through his hair in frustration, grinding his teeth together.
"What's the matter Dar?" I ask, 'cuz he looks like he's about to punch the wall or somethin'. He looks up at me, eyes furious.
"The doc said that I have to Dallas home and take care of him there. Apparently, there's no room in the hospital for a greaser kid! How the hell am I supposed to take care of him? The kid is so sick he doesn't even know who we are!" Darry yells, kicking the chair. Steve and I exchange a shocked look.
"When do you need to take him home?" I ask hesitantly.
"Today. We have an hour to get him out of here. Where are we going to put him when we get home?" Darry says tiredly, walking over to the bed. "
Uh, me and Pone's room? We can all do a day and night shift to watch him. Like, me, you, and Pone can watch him at night, and Johnny, Steve, Two-Bit, and maybe Tim or Curly can watch him during the day." I tell Darry helpfully, glancing quickly back to Dally, who at the moment is talking to himself about how he doesn't like water, and how Tim was supposed to be busting him out tomorrow. Darry sighs and takes Dally's hand, rubbing his palm. "Hey bud, we're gonna go home today, okay? You're gonna be home, and you'll be more comfortable."
Dallas looks up at Darry, and a flicker of recognition dances through his eyes. "
Darry?" he asks faintly, trying to push himself up. Darry wraps an arm around Dally's thin shoulders, supporting him.
"Yeah little man?" Darry says gently, ecstatic that Dallas is recognizing him. Dallas gives Darry a small, gap-toothed grin, showing the teeth he is missing from the fight with his dad.
"Darry!" he cries, happily hugging Darry's arm with both of his arms. Darry looks over to me, happiness filling up his once-tired blue eyes.
"How ya feeling buddy?" he asks Dally, kissing the top of his head. Dallas glares up at him, one eye still swollen shut. "I don't wanna go home! I don't wanna see Daddy!" he frets, playing with Darry's fingers nervously. Darry's shoulders sag, seeing that Dal is still not in a good state of mind, he's sick, and we're all going to have to watch over him for a while.
"C'mon kiddo, we gotta go." Darry forces himself to be cheerful.
"Where?" Dally asks suspiciously, swaying back and forth. "Home bud, now you just relax, okay?" Darry says gently, picking Dallas up off the bed and slinging him onto his back, piggy-back style. Dally let's out a soft grunt of pain, clutching his side.
"You okay honey?" Darry asks him anxiously.
"Yeah... But where's Curly? Curly said he was here, that him and Tim took the train here, where is he Darry?" Dallas says quietly, combing his fingers through Darry's hair. "Okay, you'll see Curly later, he can sit with you." Darry reassures Dally, starting to walk out of his room. "But I don't want to see Curly, I want you to stay with me! Curly took Tim away, he took Sodapop and now Soda's not making cake…" He's just rambling now, making absolutely no sense whatsoever. I'm glad that it's the fever talking and not Dally himself, I just want Dal back to his normal happy self.
"Soda, I need you to drive, and Steve, um, just sit in the front with Soda, okay?" Darry tells me and Stevie as we walk out of the hospital. Steve nods and lifts Dally off of Darry's back, laying him out on the backseat.
"Sodapop? I want Soda, no Steve, where's Soda?" he moans as Darry slides in the truck next to him. "Soda's right here, do you want him to sit with you?" Darry asks Dallas gently, shrugging off his jacket to put on Dally. Dally looks ridiculous, all beat up and messy, with Darry's huge coat hanging off of him like a sail.
"Darry, my ribs hurt," Dallas groans, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest.
"Its okay sweetie, we'll get you lying down and you can take your meds." Darry tells the small kid, holding his hand.
"Everything hurts, why does everything hurt?" he moans, staring up at Darry pitifully. Next to me, Steve hits the car door, his teeth clenched together. I try to keep my eyes on the road and drive, but it's hard when practically my baby brother is in the back of the car, whimpering in pain. Finally I can't take it anymore. I pull over to the side of the road, jerking my head at Steve to take the wheel. I slide out of the front seat, opening the back door and hopping in next to Darry and Dallas. I stroke his matted blonde hair, murmuring softly to him.
"Shhh, Dally, you're okay, you're gonna be okay! Little buddy, calm down!" His eyes flutter, eyelashes grazing his cheekbones. Steve drives at a super-slow pace, glancing back every one in a while to check on Dally. He's shaking, eyes flashing back and forth from me to Darry. His fingers clamp onto my wrist, nails digging into my skin. I flinch, but as I see his eyes droop close, I just put up with it. Steve pulls into my driveway, stopping the truck as slow as he can. Darry carefully slides his arms under Dally, holding him bridal style. I follow them into my house, falling in step with Steve.
"Buddy, he's bad off, ain't he?" Steve asks me, stopping on the porch. I run my hands through my hair before answering.
"Yeah Steve, he's not feeling that great. But the doc said that the fever should break in a couple of days, and then he'll be fine." I try to smile at Steve, but a yawn breaks my grin. Steve's expression becomes concerned.
"Sodapop Curtis, when was the last time you slept?" he demands, grabbing my arm and dragging me through the doorway.
"Thursday morning." I tell him, giving him another sleepy grin. Steve shakes his head disapprovingly at me, pulling me into Darry's room and shoving me down on the bed. "Sleep." he orders before leaving the room. The minute my head touches the pillow I'm out like a light.
(Two-Bit's Pov)
I'm on baby-sitting duty. It's my turn to watch over Dally, to hope that the fever will break. Dally's been home for two days, and his fever's only gone down to 102 degrees. Everybody's getting exhausted and worried. Soda's pulled a night watch two nights in a row and he was going to do it last night as well, but Pony stopped him. I went into the kitchen to grab a beer and a quick smoke. When I left, Dally was restless, but not as bad as he was. Some of his bruises and cuts are starting to fade and heal, so he doesn't look as bad as he did. I'm sitting on the couch, downing my beer and finishing off my last weed when I hear the little pitter-patter of feet in the hallway. My heart jumps in my chest. Could Dal's fever have finally broken? My hopes are rewarded when a blonde head peeks around the corner.
"Two-Bit?" the six-year old whispers, rubbing his eyes. He has Soda's old flannel pajama pants on and he looks so adorable standing there, blonde hair all messed up, that I just want to hug him.
"C'mere kiddo!" I say, ecstatic that his fever broke. I open my arms and the little kid runs over to me, throwing arms around my neck. "Hey Peanut! How ya feelin'?" I ask him, tilting his chin up to see his face.
"I'm all achy. What happened Two-Bit?" he says softly, squirming around on the couch. Now that he's feeling better, the infamous Dallas energy is back. That kid couldn't sit still if the President himself told him to.
"Uhh..." I'm not sure how to tell him that his dad beat the crap out of him.
"You got sick. Aaaannd... You, um... Fell out of bed." he shivers, hugging my arm. I just notice that he has no shirt on.
"Kid, you're prolly freezin'! Let's get you a sweatshirt or somethin', 'Kay?" He nods, teeth chattering together. I start to get up, but Dallas refuses to detach himself from my arm. I grin at him, gently tapping the tip of his nose. I rest him on my hip, his thin legs wrapped round my waist, arms snaked around my arm.
"Ya hungry kid?" I ask him, walking into Soda's old room and sitting down on the bed. "Yeah! Can I have soup Two-Bit? Please? Please?" he begs me with a smile on his small face. It's so nice to have him back to his normal happy, bubbly self. I root through Sodapop's closet, finally pulling out a faded blue sweatshirt.
"C'mere dude, it's gonna be a little big, but at least you'll be warm." I tell him, pulling the sweatshirt over his head. As he shoves his arms through the sweatshirt, he seems to notice the bulky white cast on his frail arm for the first time.
"Two-Bit, why do I have a cast? Why does everything hurt?" he asks me quickly, running his tongue over his missing teeth.
"You fell out of bed, remember? It hurt a lot." I lie smoothly, almost breaking down and telling him the truth as I look at his grinning little face as he buys my lie. "C'mon Dal, let's go make soup!" I crow, tickling him under the chin before swinging him onto my back. I stop short when I hear his little "oomph" of pain.
"Dally, you okay? You feelin' alright?" I ask anxiously, feeling out of character. It's not in my personality to feel worried.
"Yeah, just hit my ribs funny. I'm good," he whispers, clutching my hand tight.
"Okay..." I say hesitantly, slowly walking into the kitchen. I plunk Dally down on the kitchen table, wheeling around to face him with my trademark smile on my face.
"So what shall it be today Monsieur? Our fine chicken noodle soup, or chocolate cake with our creamy hot chocolate?" I say with a fake French accent, whipping a dishtowel out of the cabinet and tying it like a turban on my head. Dallas giggles, clapping his hands together at my performance.
"Soup please. And can I have tea?" he asks me, trying to keep up my accent.
"Sure little man." I say in my normal voice, going through the Curtis's kitchen cabinets for a can of soup. I find the soup and turn around to ask Dal which one he wants, and he's staring at me with those huge, heartbreaking baby blues. The kids gonna be quite a chick magnet when he gets older. Dallas twirls fingers through his hair.
"Two-Bit, can you stay with me after we have soup? I just kinda want you to stay." he says. "Sure kiddo! For now, I'm your babysitter!" I give him a grin, tickling his stomach. He giggles but breaks off mid-laugh with a cough. I'm instantly frantic as he coughs into his shirt, his coughs not sounding any better than they were. He stops, and gives me a 'who are you and what have you done with Two-Bit' stare. I shake my head, turning around to take a pan out of the cabinet. I pour alphabet soup into the pot and turn up the stove.
"Now sit your butt down and eat my creation." I say, throwing open the bowl cabinet and taking out a bowl. I slop some soup in the bowl, arranging the letters to spell out 'Dallas Sucks!" Dally is waiting with a spoon, and he laughs when he sees the soup. I just love making the kid laugh. His eyes light up and his grin is so innocent and carefree. He could cheer up a whole room with his little six-year old laugh.
He picks at the soup though, eating a couple of letters and drinking a little bit of broth. "You not a fan of my cookin' little man?" I ask, a little concerned about the way he's picking at the food. He smiles at me, but I can see the bags under his eyes from being tired. His whole body still looks incredibly beaten up, but he's starting to look a lot better. He yawns, then answers
"Yeah Two-Bit, I'm just tired. My tummy hurts a little, t-" he gets cut off as Steve slams the front door open and walks into the living room. He tosses his jacket onto the couch, and slouches into the kitchen.
"Hi Steve!" Dally cries, giving him a gap-toothed grin. Steve does a double take at Dally, then rushes over to Dallas, picking him up and swinging him around in a very un-Steve-like manner.
"Hey buddy! How ya feelin'?" Dallas's face is all screwed up in pain, so I slap Steve's head and yell at him to put Dally down.
"Two-Bit..." Dally says shakily, his pale face going completely white.
"I think I'm gonna be sick!" I usher the blonde over to the garbage can, where he leans over and promptly throws up all the soup. I put my arm around him when he's done, stroking his arm.
"C'mon Dally, ya wanna go lie down on the couch and watch some Mickey?" Steve asks guiltily, putting a hand on Dally's shoulder. Dally gives him a small smile and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. I follow them into the living room, flopping down on the couch. Dally clambers up next to me, using my stomach as a pillow as he stretches out on the couch.
"Can I have a"-yawn-"blanket, Steve?" Dally yawns to Steve. Steve tosses the blanket at me and I hand it to Dally, who wraps it around his thin shoulders, bunching up next to my side. "G'nite Two-Bit..." he says faintly as his eyes flutter closed. I smile and wrap my arm around him and whisper "Night bud."
(Darry's Pov)
You pull up into the driveway with a sigh. It's your turn to watch Dallas tonight. You love the kid so god-damned much; it kills you to watch him in pain like he's been. You open the door to your truck and hop out, walking tiredly up the front porch and opening the door to your house.
You're immediately attacked by a little blonde kid who shrieks "DARRY!" and jumps on you from the armchair. You can't believe it. Two-Bit and Steve are playing with Dallas, who's up and healthier-looking. Considering the fact that he's perched on your back, giggling into your ear, he must be feelin' pretty good.
"Hey Buddy! How ya doin'?" you ask him, pulling him carefully off you back and setting him down on the floor.
"Darry!" he yells happily, jumping up to hug you. He wraps his skinny legs around your legs, clinging to you like a barnacle. It's unusual for him to show this kind of affection for someone. You wrap you arms around him, lifting him up to put him on your shoulders. He laughs and you feel like you're going to burst with happiness, hearing his golden, bubbly six-year old laugh. He leans forward over your head and stares at you upside-down, laughing the whole time like it's the funniest thing ever. His matted hair falls in front of his bright blue eyes, and you remind yourself to make the kid take a shower.
"Hi Daaaaaary!" he says in a loopy voice from being upside-down. You grin at him and walk through the living room into the bathroom and plunk Dallas down on the toilet. "You need a shower little man. I'll start making you some dinner. Watcha want?" Dally starts shedding clothes as you ask him.
"I'm not hungry Darry, I threw up before. Can I just have some tea?" You start to get worried because he said he threw up. What if he's still sick?
"Why'd ya throw up little buddy?" you ask him, handing him a towel.
"Cause Steve was spinnin' me around, and I just had soup. My tummy didn't feel that great." he says matter-of-factly, standing there in his underwear and socks. You give yourself another mental note to slap Steve.
"Kay, well, you take a shower, and when you get out, pick out a book from Pony's bookshelf and I'll read it to you." you tell him, brushing his hair out of his face and walking out of the bathroom. You hear the shower turn on and you head into the kitchen to make Dallas some tea. As the water starts to boil, you peek into the living room to see what Two-Bit and Steve are doing. Both of the goons have their ear pressed up to the wall, laughing so hard that they're crying.
"What the hell are you two idiots laughing at?" you ask them sternly, eyeing them suspiciously as you walk up next to Steve.
"Just...listen...superman!" Two-Bit chokes out from between laughs. You put your ear to the wall, and a slow smile spreads across your face. You can hear Dallas singing in the shower. He's actually pretty good. You pull away from the wall when the shower stops and slap Two-Bit and Steve gently across the back of their heads. "Don't tease him," you chastise them in a stern voice before cracking a small grin. Dallas pops out of the bathroom, his hair poofy and sticking up every-which-way.
"Darry!" he hollers, running over to you with a picture book in his small hand.
"Darry, can you read this to me? Pretty please?" he pouts out his lower lip and gives you the puppy-dog face. You take the book from him and see that it's Soda's falling apart copy of The Wizard of Oz, which Dal has already asked you to read four times this month. You sigh theatrically and roll your eyes, holding your hand out for the book. "C'mon, let's go into my room. We'll read The Wizard of Oz." you ruffle Dally's hair and head into your bedroom with Dallas following you. You kick off your shoes and sit on you bed, turning on the light on your nightstand. Dallas hops onto your bed, yawning. He's probably exhausted. You push your pillows up and lean back, opening up the book to the first page. Dally shifts closer to you, wiggling his head under your arm. He rests his head against your shoulder, fingers playing with your shirt. You begin to read.
"Dorothy was a poor farm girl, who lived with her Aunty Em and Uncle Henry..."
I'm awakened by someone violently shaking my shoulder.
"Darry!"Dallashisses in a teary voice. I raise my head, rubbing my bleary sitting next to me in my bed, his lip quivering and eyes shining with tears. I'm instantly awake.
"Peanut, what's wrong?" I ask, gently rubbing his back. With a whimper,Dallaswraps both of his arms around my chest and buries his face in my shirt. I'm familiar with this routine now. He had a nightmare. I kiss the top of his head and wrap my arms around himself against me, a muffled cry coming out of him.
"You okay honey?" I croon to the shaking child in my arms, wanting so badly to protect him from the world, keep him young and innocent and trusting. The nightmare must have scared him. "Baby, what was it about? Are you okay?" I ask him, tenderly stroking his hair. He shakes his head, pressing his face deeper into my shirt. Sobs wrack his thin shoulders as he bawls into my shirt, tears soaking into the fabric.
I hold him tighter, trying to comfort him. "It's okay Dally, I'm here. It was only a dream, only a dream," I whisper. I decide to take him into the living room to see if any of the guys are out there to help me calmDallasdown. tuck him against my broad chest, carrying the sobbing child out of my room and into the living room. I take a peek at the grandfather clock, and am surprised to see that it's only 12:30 at night. I thought it was a lot later. No shock, Steve, Soda, and Two-Bit, along with Curly and Tim Shepard, are all still awake and laughing. I kick the armchair to get Curly out of it. A hush falls over the once animated conversation as the boys hear Dally's terrified sobbing. Sodas up and next to me almost instantly, concern and pity in his dancing brown eyes. "Is he okay?" he whispers as I sit down, rubbing Dally's back.
"Nightmare," I reply asDallasstarts to hiccup as his little shoulders heave up and down. "What's wrong with the little fucker?" Curly says coldly. Tim slaps him a good one across the head, jerking Curly's head to Tim's lips as Tim hisses a venomous scolding in his ear. I stroke Dal's fine blonde hair, rubbing his back to try to get him to calm down. With a shuddery sigh he buries his face into my shirt again, hiccupping. I shift him slightly so that he's more comfortable and face my gang. Soda is making coffee, Steve and Curly are whispering quietly, and Tim and Two-Bit are staring at me and Dallas with concern. "Nightmare." I tell them, rubbing Dally's shoulder as he shakes. Two-Bit gets up and kneels down next my chair, turning Dally's head to look at him and giving him a big grin.
"Hey Blondie!" he says, making funny faces atDallas. Dally gives him a very small smile, pulling himself tighter against me.
"Oh Dally," I sigh, sitting up a little and allowingDallasto nearly suction himself to me, his head on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry Darry, I'm so sorry..." the little six-year old whimpers, latched onto me with a death grip.
"Sweetie, its fine. I'll always be here for you," I tell him softly, gently rubbing circles onto his frail back. The towheaded child sniffs into my shirt, knees knocking together he's shaking so hard. I cradle his flushed face in my hands, gently wiping away stray tears with my thumbs. I tuck a tuft of silky hair behind his ear, stroking his hair.
"Little man, Shhh... Its okay, relax, relax! I got yaDallas, you can sleep. Bud, look at me-" I stare into his red-rimmed baby blues.
"It was just a dream. You're out here now with the gang, now you just lay your head down and sleep." I say softly as he lays his head onto my broad chest with a shaky sigh, still trembling.
I look at his small little face, tear streaks drying in lines, and wonder what his nightmares could be about that he gets so afraid. Two-Bit comes up behind me, his old Mickey Mouse sweatshirt that we all saved up for on his birthday a couple years ago in his hands. "It don't fit me anymore, so I wanted to give it to him. He can grow into it." he thrusts the sweatshirt at me, looking awkward. Two-Bit's a great guy, one of the most loyal people I know. He cares immensely for the members of our gang, but he finds it difficult sometimes to show the gang how much he cares about them. He's not a mushy guy, and any expression except his comical grin looks out of place on his almost always happy face. I smile at Two-Bit, then gently shake Dally, wanting to put the sweatshirt on him so he doesn't get cold. Dally stirs, yawning and then sleepily opening his eyes. "Can you put this sweatshirt on? I don't want you to get cold." he smiles sleepily at me, pulling the sweatshirt over his head and tiredly yanking his arms through. Yawning again, he shakes his head slightly and snuggles up against me again, making a little sound of contentment.
I smile and lean back, closing my eyes and starting to drowse off.