TULSA - darry curtis

T W E N T Y - T W O

I wake up several hours later when the door opens and several of the boys walk in playfully bickering.

"Shh! Belle and Johnny's sleepin'!" I hear the voice that I know to belong to Sodapop scold Two-Bit and Steve for being too loud.

"Not anymore," I sit up with a small laugh. "You boys are loud enough to wake the dead. I thought it was the Second Coming of Christ or somethin'."

"How ya feelin'?" Two-Bit is suddenly serious, genuine concern taking over his usually whimsical antics. "You alright?"

"Yeah, you okay?" Sodapop asks, the three boys flocking over and surrounding me on the couch, piling on wherever they could fit.

"I'm alright," I nod. "Been through worse."

"Did yo-" Steve starts to say something, but is interrupted.

"Will you all stop crowdin' her?" Darrel says as he walks into the door. "You're all packed in like a bunch of sardines." Steve and Soda get up and continue whatever banter they had going on before they came in and Darry makes a beeline over to me, sitting on the edge of the couch and looking me over. "How you feelin', Babygirl?"

"Like a million bucks," I smile, making Two-Bit laugh. "Thank you guys for helping me out."

"Oh, hush," Darry reprimands lightly. "You don't have anything to thank us for. We're just lookin' out for you," he pauses, looking over the bruise and scratch on my face before clenching his fist. "I knew I shoulda picked you up from work last night. None of this mess would've happened."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up over it, Darrel," I try to relieve his torment. "I'm just fine. It could've been worse."

Darry looks torn, but he doesn't say anything, simply nodding his head and looking down at where his hands rest on his thighs. I reach out and grab ahold of one, squeezing it comfortingly. I try ignore the way his hands, strong and calloused from work, feel against my smooth, soft skin. He lets out a small sigh, running his thumb along my knuckles a couple of times before getting up.

"How does some supper sound?" He offers, and my stomach rumbles.

"Phenomenal," I smile, starting to stand up myself. "I'll help. What are we making?"

"Well I'm making meatloaf," Darry says, grabbing my shoulders and guiding me back down onto the couch. "You're going to sit here and not strain yourself, you hear me?"

"Alright." I mutter, simultaneously wishing that he wasn't so protective and relishing in the fact that he cared so much.