Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders

"Do you want to spend the night tonight Sodapop? Or do you want me to drive you back to yours and Steve's place?" Two tall brothers stepped into a small house that smelled faintly of booze, smoke, and body odor.

"Naw, I'll just hoof it," Soda said as he watched Darry shrug off his jacket and neatly hang it on the hook by the door.

"Sorry Pepsi-Cola. I'm not letting you walk home alone in this neighborhood at night. Not to mention the weather."

Soda grinned his handsome grin and pulled off his gloves. "I guess I'll go sleep with Pony. Just like old times."

The two men, nineteen and twenty-two, stood at the door peeling off frost covered layers. Darry finished first. He walked to the open door of Pony's room and peeked in. There was a lump under the covers where Pony was fast asleep; right where he should be.

Soda passed Darry in the short hall that connected their two rooms.

"So how 'bout it Dar?" Soda asked. "You need a backrub for old time's sake too?"

"No, I didn't do too much lifting today." Darry clapped Soda on the shoulder and continued on to his room.

Soda walked into Pony's room and began to undress. He made no effort to be quiet; half hoping Ponyboy would wake up and talk to him. Soda lifted the blanket on his side of the bed and slipped in. He reached for his pillow, but his hand probed empty air.

"What'd you do with my pillow?" He fake angry asked the sleeping Pony. He stuck his head under the blanket and found the location of the AWOL pillow.

"My head pillow's been reduced to a feet pillow? I guess that means we have to share."

Soda scooted closer to Pony and gently shoved Pony's head aside to make some extra room for his own head. He turned on his side to face Ponyboy and slung his arm over Pony's body.

Soda closed his eyes and relaxed his breathing. He lay still for a couple minutes. Soda frowned. Something felt wrong. His arm was… wet! He opened his eyes and pulled his arm out from under the blanket. He stared at it in wonder. It was wet. But it wasn't water. No, it was a dark liquid. So dark that it almost looked like… blood.

Pure adreline shot through Soda's body. He sat up like a shot and threw the covers off of Pony's body. Even though the room was dark he could see Pony lying on his back. Dark fluid was trickling down the side of his head and stomach. His skin as so deathly white he looked like a corpse. No, not a corpse. Never a corpse.

Despite how frigid and uptight he felt, Soda carefully leaned over Pony and wrapped his arm around Pony to support his back. The other hand gently cupped the back of his head and lifted him up until they were sitting up. Pony's body was limp in Soda's firm hold of Pony against his chest.

Pony's feeble breath tickled the base of Soda's throat. It was the most beautiful feeling Soda had ever felt in his entire nineteen years. He buried his head into Pony's greased-up hair and panted in relief.

After a moment Soda gently leaned down to place Pony back in bed. As soon as Pony landed on the mattress Soda was halfway to the door.

"Darry!" he screamed. "Darry Darry Darry Darry Darry Darry…"he machine gun yelled as he sprinted into Darry's room.

When Soda barged in, Darry was sitting on the edge of his bed like he was just about to get up. He had a drowsy expression on his face. The drowsy expression snapped into alertness when he saw Soda barge into the room with blood covering the front of his white T-shirt. Soda's eyes were wide and frantic. He gripped the door jam of Darry's door, and when he moved it a bloody handprint remained.

Darry jumped up and crossed the room to Soda in two large strides. He grabbed Soda by the shoulders and held him at an arms length to inspect him.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Pony," Soda gasped.

When Darry saw that the blood wasn't coming out of Soda he pushed Soda away and strode to Pony's room. Soda was close on his heels.

"What happened?" Darry demanded as he went to Pony's side.

"I don't know." Soda's voice was unnaturally high-pitched.

"Pony! Pone!" Darry shook him on the right shoulder. Ponyboy groaned and shifted.

"Johnny?" he rasped. Darry and Soda stared at him.

"Soda, go get plastic bags, ice, peroxide, and every towel you can find." Darry deftly grabbed a shirt off the floor and pressed it onto Pony's stomach wound. "Oh, and a steak for his head too," he said briskly as Soda reached the door.

Later that night, Pony was bandaged, iced up, halfway propped up, and semiconscious. Soda and Darry sat on either side of him.

"Were you jumped?"

"No," Pony whispered hoarsely. "Truck."

"What, like you were in an accident?"

"No…hit."

"You were walking and a truck hit you?" Pony nodded.

"Who?"

Pony shook his head.

"We need to take him to the hospital," Soda said anxiously.

"No," Darry shook his head. "We don't need the state looking into this. They'll start asking questions. Even if we tell the truth they'll wonder why he was out alone at night."

"But his leg," Soda protested.

"I think it's just sprained, not broken. And if it is, we have a splint on it and we'll wait to take him to the doctor when he looks less like he got beat up."

The happy go-lucky Soda had an uncharacteristic dangerous glint in his eye. "I'm going to find whoever did this. And they'll pay."

Darry looked up and at his brother. "I know."