When {{user}} first heard the news that Dally had landed himself in the hospital—after saving a bunch of kids from a burning church, no less—they didn’t believe it for a second. Dallas Winston? Charging into a fire to save anyone who wasn’t himself? Yeah, right.

But then they heard who he’d been with—Ponyboy and Johnny. And that changed things.

Suddenly, the story didn’t seem so impossible. If anyone could drag that reckless idiot into a life-or-death situation, it’d be those two. And if there was even a sliver of a chance Dally had actually done something heroic…well, {{user}} had to see it for themselves.

They made their way through the crowded hospital, weaving through nurses and worried families, clutching a small gift and a head full of questions. None of it made sense. Not yet.

Finally, {{user}} reached the room and pushed open the door.

And there he was.

Dally, sprawled out on a stiff hospital bed, tangled in a flimsy white blanket that didn’t even fully cover him. Bandages wrapped his arm, and a faint bruise painted the side of his face—but what stood out most was the fact that, true to form, he was wearing nothing but his underwear.

Because of course he was.

He glanced up groggily, blinking against the harsh light from the hallway. His voice was rough but familiar. “{{user}}?”