All he wanted to do was collapse on that old, worn out sofa, but as the 2 boys entered the house Dally felt his stomach do a flip and he knew what was coming.

"Shit" he muttered as his hand flew up to his mouth. Then he bolted for the bathroom and he would have made it too if Darry hadn't stuck his big, neanderthal self in the way when Dally tried to run down the hall.

As he rounded the corner and burst through the bathroom door Dally felt the contents of his stomach rise in his throat. Then there it was ... vomit everywhere ... on his shirt, on the floor, some even made it where Dally was aiming. As he hugged the toilet bowl Dally continued to retch and dry heave and that's when he felt Darry kneel down beside him. He put his hand on Dally's back and was starting to rub comforting circles when Dally turned on him.

"What the F%&k Curtis?! Get the hell out and give a guy some privacy would you?!

But Darry didn't even attempt to move. He waited until Dallas was finished, then he reached up and grabbed a washcloth from the sink and wiped the vomit from Dally's chin. He blocked Dally's hand from shoving him away and spoke gently to him.

"Hey, you know what kid? You don't always have to act like such a tough guy. Not with the gang ... not with me. We're your family Dallas. You're allowed to be sick in front of your family."

Dallas scowled up at him.

"Yeah, well you know what Darry? You don't always have to act like such a Superhero. Not with the gang ... not with me." The words were heavy with sarcasm and when he saw the flash in Darry's eyes Dally thought he might be in trouble.

But he was wrong. The corner of Darry's mouth tugged up a little as a small smirk appeared.

"C'mon smartass ... let's get you into a clean shirt."

A few minutes later Darry was busy fixing up a cozy bed on the couch while Dally slipped into one of Soda's clean t-shirts. He couldn't wait to close his eyes and try to forget the events of the day. Honestly Dally couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so rotten. He just wanted it to be over and done with. He didn't have a lot of patience for anything nevermind being sick like this and needing someone to look after him. He groaned inwardly thinking of the trouble he'd have living this one down once the gang got a load of the shape he was in and once they saw how smothering Darry had decided he was gonna be. Man that guy was stubborn. How do Pony and Soda ever get away with anything, he wondered?

As if on cue, Darry reached over and put the back of his hand on Dally's forehead. He frowned and moved it down to Dally's cheek, then his neck.

"Feels like you're running a pretty decent fever there kiddo ... let's check it real quick and then you can rest."

Without waiting for Dally's consent, Darry marched over to the medicine chest, grabbed the thermometer, and was back sticking it under Dally's tongue before there was a chance to protest.

Darry frowned as he read it a minute later ...

"101.4. I've seen worse, but a fever's still a fever ... we better keep an eye on it."

"Whatever you say nurse Darry." Dally cheeked.

He might have been sick, but he couldn't resist taking a jab at his friend. It was a good distraction so he kept going ...

"Seriously, man ... I mean it ... the way you're dealing with all this ... you'd make a real good nurse."

Darry scoffed, but played along. "Nah, Dally ... I ain't pretty enough to be a nurse." He paused, then spoke up again ... "Now, Sodapop on the other hand ..."

Dally laughed out loud at the comment which made Darry chuckle with him, but the light-hearted moment was interrupted by Dally's sharp gasp of pain.

"Don't make me laugh man ... it hurts too much to laugh." The pale grimace on Dally's face took Darry by surprise.

"Just how bad is this stomach ache Winston?" Darry demanded.

"Nothing I can't handle" Dally lied and before Darry could challenge him the sound of half a dozen feet pounding up the front steps filled the room.