Author Note: Okay, someone pointed out to me that I'd spelt tire wrong in the last chapter. Technically I didn't because I'm from little ol' England and we spell it 'tyre' here. But I figured that seems it is from the Curtis boys' POV they probably would spell it the American way so I've now changed :) Someone else asked why I put Goody as the DX boss' name. Truth is I'd read that name in a couple of Outsider fics and thought maybe I missed it somehow in the book. Hey ho. Guess not. But that's his name now.

Darry's POV

"Make me."

Well, if that's how he really wanted to play it, I thought, adjusting the tire under my arm. No way could I in good conscience leave him here in the state he was in. So I did the easiest option available to me.

He was still leaning against the vending machine and his back was to me so I simply stepped up behind him and wrapped my free arm around his waist, half-tucked him under my arm and turned to carry him out.

"I'm taking him to our place," I told Soda flatly, heading for the door.

I almost ran into Goody on the way out. He merely nodded a greeting and held the door open for me.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," he confessed as I passed.

Obviously, Steve took none of this in silence. He'd been yelling and protesting as soon as I'd grabbed him. He was still struggling against me as I reached the truck and tossed the tire into the bed. I opened the passenger door with my now-free hand and dumped Steve in the seat without letting him touch the ground. I had a feeling that if he was given the opportunity he'd be off like a rocket. Considering this, I quickly flipped the little switch that activated the child safety lock before closing the door. I noticed, albeit a little smugly, that when I climbed in my side he was looking a little confused. No doubt he had tried his door and couldn't figure for the life of him why it now apparently wasn't working.

If looks could kill I'm pretty sure I'd have keeled over on the ride home. Steve had lapsed into a stony silence but was scowling angrily with his arms folded across his chest. Bloody hell, anyone would think I was kidnapping him, not trying to help. Well, by dictionary definition I was technically kidnapping him, but not by motive so it doesn't count.

I pulled up outside the house and got out, making my way around to his door, but he had already slid across the seats and was clambering out through the driver's side. I made my way quickly around the truck but unfortunately not quick enough to stop him crashing to the ground. He looked up at me, startled how his legs could apparently turn to jello.

"You shoulda just stayed in the truck," I told him, then simply just scooped him up and carried him up the porch steps.

He was eerily quiet now. Not the angry silence from the truck, but the kinda silence that indicated that he'd resigned to his fate. Subdued, I bet, by the knowledge that his muscles weren't gonna obey him anymore. Even if I did give him permission to leave, he wouldn't be able to make it ten feet without help.

I went through the front door and set him down on the sofa, before heading for the kitchen. I grabbed some painkillers and water, pausing to snatch the thermometer just as I went back into the living room.

He was still laying exactly where I'd left him, gazing at the wall. He looked up as I entered and the defeated look in his eyes made me feel slightly guilty.

"I didn't bring you here to deliberately piss you off, ya know. I just don't think garage shops make the best recovery rooms."

"Yeah, I know," he replied slowly. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"For being a right pain in the ass."

"Nothing new there," I smirked and he sent me a wane smile.

"And sorry for all the names I called ya too."

To be honest I hadn't paid much attention when he'd been ranting so I couldn't even tell you what he said.

"It's fine. You want these?"

I held out the glass and the bottle of painkillers and he took them instantly. He struggled with the bottle cap for a few moments until I took it back and uncapped it for him, tipping out a couple of tablets into his palm which he swallowed quickly with the help of the water. When he'd finished drinking, I placed the back of my hand on his forehead and frowned. He were awful hot.

"Here, Steve, this next."

He eyed the thermometer with obvious displeasure but I gave him a look that could rival one of Soda's and he reluctantly allowed me to place it under his tongue.

"Back in a sec."

I took the glass and headed to the kitchen for more fluids. He was rather sweaty and I didn't want to risk dehydration. When I came back with orange juice, I took the thermometer out and read it off.

"99.1."

Huh. I stared at him suspiciously and he looked back at me with wide, innocent eyes. Yeah, right.

"Did you keep this in the entire time I were in the kitchen?"

"...Yes."

I narrowed my eyes. He sighed.

"No."

"Do it again," I instructed.

He scowled at me but complied. I kept my eyes on him the whole two minutes and when I removed it from his mouth for the second time, the result was much more what I expected, even if it wasn't the most desired.

"102.8. Dammit, little buddy, I were just hoping this was a cold."

I had been perched on the edge of the couch beside him, so didn't miss the violent shiver that went through him.

"Ya cold?" I asked, concerned.

He nodded.

"Ya should have said," I half-scolded, standing up.

Before too long, I had a pile of bedding dumped on the sofa and he had cocooned himself up inside several blankets. I had given him pillows as well and he looked in the midst of falling asleep. Well, good, I thought, quietly backing away. Might do him some good to get some decent rest. I headed to the kitchen. Soda and Pony would be coming home soon and I needed to get the dinner on.