It was well past midnight when {{user}} found herself hauled into the station with Dally, her heart pounding as reality set in. It had all started when the fuzz found his heater, and everything spiraled from there. She was a minor, and so was Dally, but since they didn’t find much on her, she knew she was in less trouble—at least legally. But she still had to call someone to pick her up, and that someone was Darry. At 2 am, she dialed his number, her voice shaky and tears threatening to spill over.

“Darry… I need you to come get me,” she choked out, her voice trembling.

On the other end, Darry’s voice was groggy but quickly turned sharp with anger. “Where the hell are you?” he demanded, his frustration clear. Not only was he exhausted, but he was furious that she had broken his rule about staying out past 9—especially with Dally, of all people.

When he arrived at the station, his anger was palpable. He grabbed {{user}} by the arm, a mixture of relief and frustration in his eyes as he pulled her toward the car. After bailing Dally out, Darry’s fury boiled over as they drove home, his voice loud and harsh as he lectured them both. “You both knew better! What were you thinking? Out at this hour, and with a heater, Dally? You’re lucky it wasn’t worse!”