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Ponyboy felt terrible. His head felt fuzzy, his throat hurt every time he swallowed, and every muscle in his body ached. It had all started when Ponyboy went to bed before reading any of Gone with the Wind, that wasn't like him at all. He read almost every night until 10 or until Darry hollered at him to get his ass in bed. To make things worse, Darry had officially decided that Ponyboy was too sick to do anything.That meant he was stuck. "I'm fine," Ponyboy croaked for the tenth time that morning.
"You sound like a dyin’ frog." Darry replied with a deadpan tone
Pony glared at him from the couch,underneath like 10 blankets.
Darry sat at the dining table with his arms crossed. He had been hovering around all morning, pretending he wasn't worried.
"I'm not hungry."
"Good thing I didn't ask."
Darry handed him a bowl of mushroom soup.
Ponyboy looked at it suspiciously.
"I don't want it."
"Eat it."
"No."
“For the last time Pony, Eat it ”
"I hate you."
"Love you too."
"I mean it."
"Sure you do."
Darry stared at him. Ponyboy stared back. Most times Pony’s stare carried heat. Not now. Just empty air. They held eye contact for nearly thirty seconds before Darry sighed.
"You’re such a brat when you're sick."
"I'm not sick."
"You have a fever of 103 degrees."
"It's just warm in here."
"It's January."
Ponyboy crossed his arms. Darry pinched the bridge of his nose. From the kitchen came a crash followed by Soda yelling, "NOBODY PANIC!" Both brothers froze. Another crash echoed through the house."What did you do?" Darry shouted.
"Nothin’!"
A pause. Then:
"Okay, maybe it was somethin’."
Darry groaned and stomped toward the kitchen. Ponyboy smirked despite himself. A minute later, Darry returned looking exhausted.
"What happened?"
"Soda tried makin’ you pancakes."
"That's nice."
"He somehow got batter on the ceiling and even worse, the batter was bright red."
Pony burst out laughing.
The laugh quickly turned into a coughing fit.
Darry was beside him instantly.
"Easy."
"I'm fine," Ponyboy wheezed.
"Sure."
Darry handed him a glass of water.
Ponyboy took it reluctantly.
For a second, Darry's hand lingered on his forehead. Checking his temperature. The moment Ponyboy noticed, Darry pulled away.
"You still have a fever."
Ponyboy tried not to smile. Darry acted tough all the time, but when one of them got sick, he became the world's grumpiest mother hen. Ponyboy remembered the last time Soda because sick, Darry was running back and forth from the kitchen to Soda’s room, checking his temperature, soup and bringing it down to his room. It was chaos. A few minutes later, Soda appeared carrying a plate.
"Special delivery for my favourite patient!"
The pancake looked less like food and more like a map of America.
"What is that?" Ponyboy asked.
"A pancake."
"No, seriously."
Soda gasped dramatically.
"Wow. Here I am slaving over a hot stove for like 30 minutes, and this is the thanks I get."
Darry let out a scoff. Actually scoffed. Ponyboy immediately pointed.
"You laughed."
"I did not."
"You definitely did laugh, I heard it."
"I absolutely did not."
Soda grinned, "Got him."
Darry rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. For a little while, the room was quiet. Ponyboy picked at the weird pancake while Soda rambled about Steve accidentally dropping a tire on his foot at the DX.The story got more ridiculous with every sentence. "And then Steve says—"
"That's not what happened," Darry interrupted.
"Were you there?"
"No."
"Then how do you know?"
Darry opened his mouth, then closed it almost immediately. Soda looked victorious. Ponyboy laughed so hard he nearly dropped his spoon.The feeling didn't last long, though. The fever made everything heavy. Soon he found himself slumping against the arm of the couch. Darry noticed immediately.
"Lay down."
"I'm not tired."
A yawn betrayed him. Soda pointed dramatically.
"Evidence!"
"Traitor."
"You wound me."
Soda hit him lightly on the shoulder.
"Ow! that hurt! "
“Sorry not sorry”
"You wound me."
"You deserve it."
Darry snorted. Soda pointed accusingly. "See?
Pony buried his face in the pillow.
"I hate both of you."
"You love us."
"Unfortunately."
Soda gasped as he clutched his chest.
"Darry, you hear that? He loves us."
"I heard."
"Write it down. This is history."
A whole tissue box flew through the air, aimed straight at Soda's face.
Fever affected Pony’s aim though. The tissue box flew past Soda, missing him by inches before hitting Darry right in the chest. A heavy silence fell. Stillness filled the room. Pony stared. Darry stared. Soda looked delighted.
"Oh, you're dead."
Pony pointed weakly. "That was meant for him."
"Sure it was."
"It actually was!"
Darry picked up a box. Maybe he’d toss it aside, Pony thought for a moment. Instead, he just placed it by the bed without saying a word.
"Drink your water Ponyboy."
Pony groaned but drank the water anyways, Darry pulled the blankets higher around Ponyboy's shoulders. The gesture was so natural that neither of them mentioned it. Ponyboy just stared.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Darry narrowed his eyes. "Spit it out."
"You worry too much."
Darry barked out a laugh.
"You got pneumonia when you were nine because you thought jackets were optional."
"That was one time."
"One very stupid time."
Soda was practically vibrating with amusement.
"Remember when Pony thought orange juice cured everything?"
Ponyboy groaned.
"Don't."
"He tried giving Johnny orange juice for a sprained ankle."
"I was nine!"
"You were confident, though."
"Shut up."
Soda doubled over laughing. Even Darry was smiling now. The sight caught Ponyboy off guard. Sometimes Darry smiled so rarely that when it happened, it changed the whole room.Ponyboy's chest felt warm. Not fever warm. Just...good. Unfortunately, Soda noticed.
"Ooooh."
Ponyboy immediately knew trouble was coming.
"What?"
"You're gettin’ emotional."
"I am not."
"You got that face."
"There isn't a face."
"There totally is."
Darry stood up."Leave him alone."
"See?" Soda said. "Darry's getting emotional too."
Darry threw a pillow at him. Soda dodged it with surprising speed. The pillow hit a lamp. The lamp wobbled. All three brothers watched in horror. The lamp somehow stayed upright. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Then Soda quietly said, "That was almost really expensive."
Ponyboy laughed. Darry laughed. And suddenly, Soda was laughing too. The kind of laughing where nobody could stop. For a minute, the whole room echoed with it. When it finally died down, Ponyboy felt a little better. Not healthy. Not even close.But better. Darry stood and grabbed the empty soup bowl.
"Get some sleep."
"I'm not tired."
Darry raised an eyebrow. Ponyboy was asleep before he could finish rolling his eyes. When Ponyboy woke up later, the house was quiet. A blanket had been tucked carefully around him. There was fresh water on the nightstand. From the hallway, he could hear Soda whispering.
"You know, you really love taking care of him."
"I do not."
"You checked his temperature like eight times."
"He had a fever."
"You made soup."
"Because he was sick."
"You tucked him in."
"Adjusted."
"You looked at him like a sad puppy."
"You checked on him three times."
"Four," Soda corrected.
Darry glared at him. There was a pause. Then Darry muttered, "Go away, Soda." Soda's laughter echoed down the hall. Ponyboy smiled into his pillow. Maybe being sick wasn't completely awful after all.