Tough Love, Johnny Cade (Jally)

Eight: Fever

"Sure." Pony said. Steve rolled his eyes and wondered into the kitchen. Soda put on a T-Shirt and ruffled my hair. He gave me a smile before him and Pony left the room. I was feeling a bit better at the moment, but I knew rolling over wrong could change that, and I ended up falling back asleep, this time sleeping thoroughly.

When I woke up next, the sun was mostly set. I immediately took note of how much better I felt. I was still a little shaky, and I had a pain behind my eyes, but most of the grossness and headache had gone away. I rolled over. Dally was sitting in Pony's desk chair, facing out into the room. He fiddled with a stack of books on the desk, bored.

"Hey." I said. My throat was dry and I realized it was the first thing I'd said all day besides "Hot." Dally looked at me and quit fiddling with the books.

"Oh, hey Johnny." He said casually. I sat up stiffly and eagerly grabbed the glass of water I found on Soda's side table. I drank probably about half of it.

"What are you doing?" I said, once I had finally set the water down. Dally shrugged.

"Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit all had plans, and Soda convinced Steve to let Pony tag along." Dally said. "Darry called this afternoon. Said he was covering for someone and would be home late. So I offered to babysit."

I didn't like that he used the word babysit, but I ignored it.

"Are you still sick?" He asked. Most people would have asked, 'Feeling any better?' or, 'How are you feeling, Johnny?' but Dally just wasn't soft like that. I shook my head.

"I'm better. Hungry, though." I admitted. I hadn't eaten all day, or gone to the washroom, and I'd just chugged a lot of water.

"I think there's some boloney in the other room, and I don't really think I should cook Darry's food." Dally said. I shrugged.

"Baloney is fine." I said. Dally nodded, biting his lip and sitting there for a moment.

"Well, okay." He said finally, getting up slowly and heading for the kitchen. I got up and went to the washroom. When I came into the kitchen, there was a plate with a sandwich, and a glass of milk waiting for me. Dally sat on the counter, even though there were five empty chairs.

"Did you not want a sandwich?" I asked, adjusting the plate in front of me.

"No, man, I'm not hungry." Dally said, leaning back until his head rested on the cabinet behind him. He closed his eyes. I quickly looked away, and started eating my sandwich. I ate the whole thing in silence, and me and Dally didn't speak until I was done. I'd been thinking about what I'd say, and I'd come up with something.

"You're having bad dreams still, aren't you?" I said. Dally looked at me, surprise lighting his eyes. "Like the one you told me about."

Dally scoffed, almost in a stubborn manner, giving a cocky smile. "No." He said. Then his face softened and he sighed heavily. "Yeah, I guess." He murmured.

"I had one kinda like that too, the night before Two-Bit's birthday." I said, tracing my finger over the ring of my glass. "You know, because you were like... I dunno, hurt or whatever, I guess."

It was quiet for a long moment before Dally sighed. "They feel pretty real. I don't know how to explain it." He said. I looked at him and he was looking out of the window at the sink.

"Yeah, well I know that's why you've been acting weird." I said quietly. "Like hanging around, and stuff like that. A-And the other night."

My face grew hot, mentioning the night I found Dally at Buck's. It was really quiet again for a long moment before I spoke up again.

"But anyway, I'm not bothered by any of it. I think I'd do the same thing if I kept having those dreams every night."

"Mmk." Was all Dally said. We sat for a long few minutes I silence, and in that time I finished my glass of milk.

"Here, let me..." Dally was muttering something as he got up and came around the table. He collected my plate, and I couldn't help but notice the smell of his soap as his arm went past my face. He had to lean in more to reach the empty glass, and his torso was turned towards me. He collected the dishes and then paused to look at me. We were close. Too close.

Our eyes met, and he held my gaze briefly, before pulling away. My stomach flipped in disappointment and I immediately started scolding myself in my head. Dally carried the dishes to the sink and started washing, and I watched the back of his head. I found myself zoning out into his white-blonde hair.

When Dally turned around, I was met with his eyes again. I swallowed, and Dally leaned into the counter, wiping his hands into his jeans. He sighed, looking into the ceiling light, before his eyes met mine again. He didn't look tough then, he looked gentle. He bit his lip again, cramming his hands into his pockets. He pushed off the counter and walked past me, out of the room.

I didn't want him to leave to room. I wanted him to sit next to me, and I wanted him to start talking about some random party or some time he'd almost gotten caught stealing. He'd grin, cocky, and he'd look at me as he talked. Both of our arms would rest on the table, and they'd occasionally brush together when we started laughing.

I stood up, forcing myself away from the table. What is wrong with me?