Welcome to Wisteria Lane, Bitch
I don't know why I wrote this. Certainly I have better things to do (like read! The stack just keeps growing, cyber and actual text.) But awhile ago, I signed up to do miss_begonia's crossover challenge, and this silly scenario got stuck in my head. So . . .
Crossover: The O.C., Desperate Housewives
Pairings: Ryan/Gaby; Seth/Edie (sort of); Seth/Ryan (sort of)
Rating: R-ish?
Disclaimer: Don't own a one of them. And there's only one I'd want to own.
Caveat: To be honest, I think I've seen maybe ten episodes (in whole or part) of Desperate Housewives. I have no clue what the architectural details of Gaby's house are, if she and Edie live across the street from each other, or where their community is located. So those of you who are fans? Expect errors. Also, in terms of OC time, this is during Seth's and Ryan's freshman year of college. Pretend the finale never happened (not that Marissa is mentioned at all), that the boys both stayed on the West Coast for school, and that Taylor is just returning from the Sorbonne to enroll midyear at some unnamed university nearby that Seth and Ryan have never visited before.
Whew.
So without futher ado (because it isn't possible to have further ado), I give you:
Welcome to Wisteria Lane, Bitch
“Wrong way, man. I’m telling you. This is not where we want to be.”
Seth completed his left-hand turn and gave the dashboard of the 2004 Corolla a consoling pat. “Don’t listen to the grouchy guy in the passenger seat, Zoomer,” he whispered. “Would I steer you wrong?”
“According to the Mapquest directions that you choose to ignore yes, Seth, you would,” Ryan retorted. “And who the hell is Zoomer?”
“First of all, A: who are you going to trust, Ryan? Mapquest, which has doomed many an innocent driver to the on-land equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle, or the directional savvy of Seth Cohen, navigator extraordinaire?” Ryan glared, stone-faced, and Seth sighed. “Fine. Be that way. But I know where I’m going, as you, my doubting friend, will learn soon enough. And B: Zoomer is my new car. I named her.”
Ryan squinted dubiously at the speedometer. “You named your car ‘Zoomer,’ and it can’t get even past sixty-five without wheezing?”
“Dude, please! She can hear you. And she’s very sensitive.”
“She?”
“That’s right, she. And Zoomer and I would thank you to address her accordingly.”
“Zoomer can’t thank me.” Ryan pronounced the name with distaste. “It can’t talk. It’s a car.” He reached for his coffee in the cup holder, but Seth grabbed it out of his hand.
“Hey, buddy! You are no one to talk about not talking. Wait, did that make any sense?” Seth’s eyebrows squinched together as he considered the question, but then he gave up. “Anyway, so not the point,” he concluded, draining the rest of Ryan’s coffee. “The point is, Zoomer is not an inanimate object. She moves, she breathes-at least she exhales-ergo she is a living being that must have a gender, right? Besides, she’s so pretty that she has to be a girl.”
“Uh-huh. And you’re so insane that you must be . . . you.” Shaking his head wryly, Ryan peered up at the street signs and then consulted his directions again. “Look, man, I agreed to let you drive because you were excited about finally getting your own car. But face it, we’re lost. Taylor’s party-“
“Now, now, Ryan. Not her party. Read the invitation. Her Gala Dormitory Debut.”
Ryan set his jaw stubbornly. “Taylor’s party,” he repeated, “starts at seven, we’re already late, and nothing around here is even close to the address she gave us. Why is it that you can navigate on water where there are no landmarks, but you can’t read a roadmap or a three-foot tall highway exit sign?”
Seth made his “poor Ryan” face complete with rolling eyes. “Ah, grasshopper,” he sighed. “Roadmaps and signs are for the literal-minded. I? Carry my compass within.” Tapping his temple, he nodded wisely. Ryan, also nodding, raised his finger and rotated it in a ‘loco’ gesture. It took Seth a moment to realize the double insult: Ryan was using his middle finger. “Hmph,” he sniffed, affronted. “It is clear that you have not yet reached the Seth Cohen-level of enlightenment.”
“I'm enlightened enough to know that we're lost. And Seth,” Ryan growled. “Don’t call me grasshopper.”
Seth dimpled. “Okay,” he agreed brightly, as he made another turn, apparently at random. “How about Jimminy Cricket instead?”
“Stop, Seth!”
“Sometimes you have no sense of humor at all, R.A.”
“The car. Stop the car!”
“Ryan, I am not asking anyone for directions. The infallible Seth Cohen intuition will--”
“Seth, I mean it. Stop! Now!”
Instantly, Zoomer lurched to a screeching halt, but only because a candy-red convertible, backing rapidly down a curving driveway, plowed into the passenger side.
“Ryan?” Seth stammered, dazed. His hands clutched the steering wheel as he swiveled, ashen-faced, in his seat. “What just happened here?”
“Someone just hit us. Man, I told you to stop,” Ryan groaned. “That car was backing out way too fast. Are you okay?”
Seth released his death-grip on the wheel and patted himself in a gesture reminiscent of “Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes.” “Yeah, I seem to be,” he reported. “You?”
Before Ryan could reply, a blonde woman climbed out of the convertible. She strode around the front-end, her high heels clacking in staccato fury on the pavement, her eyes blazing and her ass, in skin-tight white shorts, swishing irately. Ryan forced his mangled door open and maneuvered out to meet her. “Are you all ri--” he began, but she interrupted, screaming.
“Look! Just look what you’ve done! That is my brand-new $60,000 BMW! It’s less than two weeks old! It was perfect and you ruined it!” The woman’s nails flashed glossy crimson as she waved at her vehicle’s dented rear bumper. “Not to mention what you did to my manicure!”
“What we’ve done!” Ryan retorted. “This was completely your fault.”
“It was not! You saw me coming! I heard you yelling for that idiot driver to stop.”
“Only because you obviously weren’t going to. But we were on the street. We had the right of way. You’re the one who was supposed to yield.”
Seth had scrambled out as they spoke, but he remained where he was, huddled safely away from the fray. From his sheltered vantage point, he watched the exchange, his head pivoting as though following a tennis volley.
“Right of-?” For an instant the woman looked flustered, but she rallied almost immediately. “What. Ever,” she snapped. “That’s still no way to talk to a lady.”
“I don’t see a lady, only a screaming b--”
Ryan!” Seth hissed in alarm.
“Banshee,” Ryan concluded.
“Of course I was screaming! I’ve been traumatized! And you haven’t even asked if I was hurt!”
“I tried,” Ryan snarled. “Anyway, you already told me. Your nail suffered a fatal injury. Want me to call the emergency manicure service for you?”
Seth grinned. He rapped lightly on the car hood to get Ryan’s attention. “Psst! Good one, dude,” he whispered. “Emergency manicure service-EMS. Ha! Score one for our side.” Licking his index finger, he made an invisible tally mark in the air.
The woman wheeled around, glaring. “What did you say?”
“Say? Me? Um, nothing.” Retreating a step, Seth ducked behind his side-view mirror. “Just . . . wondering if anybody needs EMS. ‘Cause I’m beginning to think that I might.”
The blonde woman’s mouth tightened, but whatever she might have replied was lost in an alarmed call.
“Edie?”
Simultaneously, Ryan and Seth turned to see a petite brunette in insanely high heels tripping down the front steps of a house across the street.
“Edie, what on earth happened? I heard a crash. Are you all right?”
“Barely. I’m almost sure I have whiplash, Gaby. And look at my car! That babbling idiot over there-” Edie pointed a red-taloned finger at Seth, “made me run into him!”
Ryan snorted and Seth scowled indignantly. “Made you? Okay, I think we’ve got a Roshomon thing going here,” he muttered. “That’s not how I remember it happening. Although the babbling part may have been true.”
Gaby’s dark eyes raked over Seth and settled on Ryan. They widened in approval as her gaze slid down his bare arms.
“Ooh,” she crooned. “You poor baby! You’re hurt!”
Seth spun around. “Ryan? You are?”
“I am?” Ryan glanced in surprise at a small gash near his wrist. “You mean that? It’s nothing,” he shrugged.
“Oh, aren’t you brave? But I’m sure it must be painful.” Shimmying her bare shoulders, Gaby shook back glossy waves of dark hair and sidled close to Ryan. “Here. Let me take a look at it.”
“Gaby!” Edie planted her fists on her hips, one foot tapping angrily. “What about me?”
Without a glance at her friend, Gaby pulled off her scarf and reached for Ryan’s hand. “Oh, Edie, honestly, you’re not bleeding. You’re fine,” she said indifferently. She dabbed at the tiny cut with a corner of the cloth and then folded it into an improvised bandage. Ignoring Ryan’s attempt to ease out of her grasp, she ran a hand over his bicep and smiled up at him. “We really should get some antiseptic on that,” she advised. “Ryan, is it? I’m Gabrielle. But you can call me Gaby.”
“Hi, Gaby.” Ryan cleared his throat. “Pretty name.”
“Yeah. One of your favorites, right dude?” Seth observed pointedly, but Ryan paid no attention to him.
“Gaby, what are you doing? I don’t care how hot he is, that boy was rude to me! And you don’t know anything about first aid!” Edie objected, but Gaby ignored her too.
Fluttering her thick fringe of lashes, Gaby inclined her head toward the street. “My house is right over there,” she murmured. “Why don’t you come with me, Ryan, and I’ll . . . take care of you.”
“Thanks. That’s really . . . nice of you, but I’m fine. And anyway, my friend--” Ryan glanced over his shoulder to where Seth had taken refuge behind him.
“Right. That would be me. His friend.” Seth nodded vigorously. “So maybe I should go with the two of you, and just, you know, make sure Ryan’s all right.”
“Oh no you don’t, Curly!” Edie warned. She moved a step closer and Seth gulped. “You are staying right here with me until we get this straightened out!”
Seth’s bobbing head changed directions, shaking a nervous protest. “You really think that’s necessary?” he asked, edging closer to Ryan. “I mean I could just give you my information and, um, get out of your way. What do you need? Phone number, address? Name, rank, serial number--”
“Stay!” Edie snapped. “I’m calling my insurance agent right now.” Whipping a phone out of her hip pocket, she jabbed a single number.
“You have your insurance agent on speed dial?” Seth asked incredulously.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
“That is about enough out of you, Buster!” Edie rounded on Ryan who merely smirked in response. “You know what, Gaby? Getting that one out of here might be a good-Hello, Stu? It’s Edie. I need you. Now.” Her voice tightened ominously. “I know that, Stu, I can count . . . Outside my house. Just get here, all right? I’ll be waiting . . . The other driver is with me . . . I don’t know, some stupid kid--” Peering at Seth, Edie demanded, “What’s your name anyway?”
Seth swallowed. “Seth,” he answered weakly. “Seth Cohen.”
“Sam Copeman,” Edie told her agent. “I don’t know . . . Some old beater . . . Right. We’ll both be here.” She snapped the phone shut and jammed it back into her pocket. Planting herself atop Zoomer’s trunk, she crossed her long Mystic-tanned legs, slid her sunglasses off her forehead, and twisted her hair into two taut pigtails. “Sit,” she ordered Seth. “We’ll wait here for Stu so I can sunbathe. Then we’ll go inside to deal with all that damn paperwork.”
“All right!" Gaby chirped. "That’s settled then.” She laced her arms possessively through Ryan’s, keeping one hand on the square of green silk “bandage” and pressing herself against his side. “Ta, Edie. Good luck with Stu!”
“Wait! Ryan?” Seth hissed. He grabbed Ryan’s belt loops, darting nervous looks at Edie, who had pulled down her sunglasses to glare at him. “You’re not going to leave me alone with . . . her . . . are you?” His voice lowered still more. “Seriously, dude, that woman is scary. And I think she may be stronger than I am.”
Ryan surveyed Edie’s broad shoulders, the toned muscles of her arms and thighs. “Gee, Seth,” he drawled. “You think?”
“Ryan, we should go,” Gaby urged, tugging him toward the curb. “I don’t want you to get any nasty germs in that cut. Do you like sangria? Because it just so happens I have a fresh batch in the fridge--”
With a “Sorry, buddy” shrug that would have looked sincere if it weren’t for his sly grin, Ryan allowed Gaby to lead him away. “Call your parents-and Taylor!” he urged without looking back.
Seth made one hesitant move to follow, but a commanding whistle halted him in his tracks. “Hey! You! Sammy! Get your skinny ass back here!” Edie ordered.
“Seth,” Seth muttered, shuffling back to the car. He peered over his shoulder at his butt. “And it’s not that skinny.”
Edie slammed one palm down flat beside her. “Whatever. I said sit.”
Reluctantly, Seth boosted himself up on the trunk, keeping a clear, assured distance between his body and Edie’s. “So, um, will it take Stu long to get here? Because if it will, I could go get us something to drink," he suggested. "Are you thirsty? I’m sure there’s a store around somewhere. Or maybe Gaby would share--”
“God!” Edie groaned, sprawling against the rear window. “Do I look like I want to talk to you, Sam?”
“Seth.”
“Whatever. Shut up.”
Sighing, Seth watched wistfully as, across the street, Gaby drew Ryan inside her house and shut the door behind them with a playful kick.
He began to think that maybe he should have checked the Mapquest directions. Now he was stuck atop his damaged car next to a bitchy blonde Warrior Princess. Meanwhile, a sexy senorita ministered to Ryan with spiced wine and TLC in the privacy of her home.
It didn’t seem fair.
This definitely was not the destination Seth had in mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“There!” Gaby announced. Cradling Ryan’s hand in her lap, she patted a second Band-aid into place and then ran her finger lightly along his palm. She wiggled just a bit, so that her short skirt hitched up higher on her slender thighs. “All better.”
Ryan’s mouth quirked into a small, lopsided smile. “Definitely,” he agreed. “Thanks. So I guess I should go--”
“No, not yet! We’re not done.” Shoving the Neosporin back in the medicine cabinet, Gaby hopped down from the bathroom counter where she had been perched. She swayed against Ryan’s chest, giggling, as she landed. “Oops! Sorry! I’m so clumsy . . .”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Gaby murmured, although she didn’t move away. Reaching blindly for her sangria, she took a sip before lifting the glass to Ryan’s lips so he could do the same. “But you know, I was thinking.” She paused to wipe the corner of his mouth with her little finger. “We should make sure you’re all really right-that you don’t have any . . . injuries . . . anywhere else.” Pressing a palm against Ryan’s stomach, Gaby gazed up at him, her eyes smoky and her lips parted to reveal the tip of her tongue.
Ryan swallowed, setting the glass back down. “I’m pretty sure that I don’t,” he said huskily.
“It never hurts to check, though, does it?” Holding Ryan’s hand in both of hers, Gaby backed across the room, pulling him along with her. “Are you hot right now, Ryan? Because I think it’s hot. We should go upstairs where it’s cooler.”
“Warm air rises, Gaby.”
“Does it really? Ooh,” Gaby purred, “I do like things that rise.” Slowly, deliberately, she urged Ryan toward the stairs and began to climb. He hesitated, two steps below her, glancing uncertainly toward the door. Then Gaby’s leg brushed against his crotch, and she arched her breasts so that they almost grazed his face.
“Coming?” she asked.
Ryan sucked in a deep, throbbing breath. “Hell, yes,” he growled.
As soon as they entered her bedroom, Gaby peeled off her top and tiny skirt, revealing a lacy peach bra and panties underneath. “Ah, that’s better,” she breathed, stretching languidly. “How about you, Ryan? Any cooler yet?”
“Not. Really. No,” Ryan admitted. His eyes darkened, becoming a deep, dangerous midnight blue.
“Well, of course you’re not! Look at you.” Licking her lips, Gaby tugged Ryan’s t-shirt out of his jeans. She began to roll it up his chest, taking her time and blowing soft puffs of air on his skin as each new inch of naked flesh was revealed. Finally, she slipped the shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor behind him. “Mmm, yes. Look at you.” With an appreciative sigh, she ran her nails down the curves of his arms. “Now, let me just make sure you don’t have any bruised ribs or . . . anything.”
Gaby pushed Ryan down on her bed and stood in front of him, smiling wickedly. He moaned deep in his throat as she wriggled between his thighs. “Nothing wrong here,” she whispered, tracing a moist line along his collarbone. Her head dipped lower, teeth nipping at his nipples. “Or here. Or . . . mmm . . . over here.”
Ryan’s breath caught as she sank to her knees, nibbling and sucking a path down to his waistband. “Ooh,” she teased, peering up impishly after a particularly enthusiastic bite. “I’m afraid you will have a bruise there tomorrow.”
“Gaby,” Ryan groaned, straining against her.
“Uh, uh, uh,” she chided, pushing him back. “The check-up isn’t over.” Sliding her palms down the inside of his legs, Gaby reached his feet. She fumbled with his laces, finally loosening them enough to yank the boots off. “Now if you’ll just lie back on the bed--”
Ryan shoved himself toward the headboard, scattering a dozen pillows and pulling Gaby’s body along with his. Cupping her ass as she clambered on top of him, he ground his mouth against her breast, panting and pushing, his fingers slipping beneath the thin fabric of her thong.
A series of violent knocks resounded through the house.
“Gaby?” a male voice yelled.
Ryan froze. Above him, Gaby paused for just a moment before she resumed nuzzling his left ear.
“Gabrielle! What the hell did you do? Change the locks?”
Gaby removed her mouth just long enough to yell back, “Of course, I changed the locks, you arrogant, two-timing bastard! You don’t live here anymore!” Flinging back her hair, she smiled reassurance at Ryan and shimmied down to dip her tongue in his bellybutton.
“Wait! Gaby, who is that?” he demanded, jerking away from her touch.
“Who is what?” she asked innocently. The pounding resumed, faster and more ferocious.
“That,” Ryan panted.
Gaby shrugged. “Oh, the beast at the door? That’s just my husband.”
“Your . . . husband?” Stunned, Ryan tried to push himself further up on the bed, but Gaby was straddling his thighs, and she didn’t move except to grind into him harder. “Gaby, I don’t do husbands. I mean, wives. Of husbands.”
“Well, he’s really my ex,” Gaby claimed, her voice muffled against Ryan’s stomach. “Or almost. I’m working on it. Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about. He can’t get in, so he’ll just huff and puff out there like the stupid big bad wolf he is. Ignore him, querido.”
Ryan frowned, but Gaby’s teeth found the tab on his zipper and she growled, starting to tug it down. His hips bucked, and he forgot everything.
There was the sound of a door scraping open below.
“Oh shit!” Gaby breathed, bolting upright. “I forgot about the patio!”
She scrambled off Ryan, squirming into a miniscule robe as he rolled hastily out of bed behind her. Bare-chested, hair disheveled, he grabbed his shoes and shirt and headed for the bedroom door.
Downstairs, the male voice grew louder and more agitated. “Where the hell are you, Gaby? We need to talk!”
Gaby seized Ryan’s shoulders and spun him around. “Not that way!” she hissed. “Out the window!”
“The window?" Ryan protested as she pushed him across the room. "I haven’t done this since I was a freshman.”
“Oh, you’re still pretty fresh, babe. Besides, I’m sure it’s like riding a bike. It will all come back to you.” Flinging open the window, Gaby stepped aside so that Ryan could climb out. As he raised a leg over the sill she ran one hand down his chest, the other hungrily cupping his crotch.
“Damn!” she sighed, shaking her head. “Such a waste.”
Footsteps started up the stairs.
“Out! Hurry!” she whispered. Raising her voice she yelled, “I warn you, Carlos! I’ll call the police if you come one step further. I’m dialing 911 right now!”
Ryan hesitated, one foot still inside the room. “Gaby, this is the second floor. I, um, don’t do so well with heights.”
“Do you do well with enraged husbands who have already served time for assault?”
“Good point.” With a deep breath, Ryan slipped out and onto a slanted ledge that formed the roof of a two-story alcove. He ducked out of sight just as the window whooshed shut behind him. “You! Carlos!" he heard Gaby protest. "Leave this house right now! I mean it. You have no right here anymore!”
Carlos pushed open the bedroom door. “Gabrielle Solis, what the hell is going on? Is somebody here with you?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why is the bed messed up like that?”
“I was taking a beauty nap! I’m a model, Carlos. It’s a professional responsibility.”
A lilting chime floated up from downstairs.
“Doorbell!” Gaby caroled. “Get out of the way, Carlos! I have a guest!”
Risking a cautious peek, Ryan saw Gaby shove her husband into the hallway and scamper out, slamming the door behind her. Then he settled down to wait, his back pressed against the wall of the house, his hands gripping the rough surface of his perch.
Inside, Gaby darted downstairs, followed by Carlos and his litany of objections. Cinching her flying robe snugly around her waist, she pushed back her tumbled hair and threw open the door.
“Sam!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Hi! What a surprise to see you here!”
Seth shuffled uncertainly on the porch, staring over Gaby’s head at Carlos’s glowering face. “Um, it’s Seth,” he stammered.
“Is this what you’re hiding? You have a new boyfriend?” Squinting in disbelief, Carlos inspected Seth. “Huh,” he snorted. “I thought you liked muscles, Gaby. This one doesn’t seem to be your type.”
“What? No! Of course he’s not.”
“Of course I’m not,” Seth agreed automatically, before he remembered to be offended. “I mean I’m not her boyfriend. But it’s not like I have no muscle tone. I’m just . . . wiry, that’s all. It's a swimmer's physique.” He glanced over his shoulder to Edie’s house. “And my ass isn’t that skinny either.”
“Who said anything about your ass?” Carlos demanded. “What do you want anyway?”
“Yes, Sam.” Gaby widened her eyes meaningfully. “What can my husband and I do for you?”
“Okay, yeah . . . Wait. Your husband?”
“That’s right,” Gaby trilled. “This is my husband, Carlos Solis. Carlos, this is a, a, a friend of Edie’s, Sam Copeman.”
“Actually, it's-oh, hell, why not? Hi. Sam Copeman. Pleased to meet you.” Seth stuck out his hand, wincing as it disappeared in a quick, crushing grip. “So, um, Gaby, is Ryan here?”
Somehow Carlos loomed taller and broader as his face darkened. “Who. Is. Ryan?” he gritted.
“Ryan? Ryan is, is . . . Sam’s . . . dog.” With a brilliant, warning smile, Gaby slipped in front of Carlos, waving a “shut-up” signal at Seth. “He’s just the most adorable puppy. What breed is he, Sam, a golden retriever?”
Seth’s mouth twitched and his eyes began to glint with amusement. “Ah, actually? Ryan is more of a mixed breed,” he replied. “Part Chino hound, part Newport, um, St. Bernard. Definitely one-of-a-kind.”
“I don’t care what kind of damn dog he is!” Carlos roared. “Why would he be here, Gaby? Since when do you baby-sit other people’s pets?”
“I don’t! I just . . . took the little rascal in once when he got lost. Did that naughty boy run away again, Sam?”
Seth’s gaze flickered from Gaby in her flimsy, revealing robe, to Carlos, who was pounding one fist into another. “Yeah,” he grinned. “That naughty boy. I’m guessing that’s just what Ryan did.”
“Oh, that’s too bad! But he’s not here. In the house. With me.” Pronouncing each phrase distinctly, Gaby flicked her fingers at Seth in a furtive “leave now” gesture. “Feel free to look around the yard though.”
Seth nodded, his dimples dancing. “Yeah, he’s probably somewhere nearby. You know animals . . . they always hang around where people feed them.” He glanced meaningfully at Gaby’s breast where her robe had slipped open and the imprint of a mouth was blooming. With a startled breath, she yanked a fold of fabric back the mark.
“Good luck finding him! And you know, Sam,” she advised, beginning to ease the door shut, “maybe you should keep that little dickens on a leash.”
“Maybe I should get that little dickens neutered.” With a gleeful wave, Seth trotted down the porch steps, smirking to himself as he headed for the back yard. He rocked to a stop at the sound of a strident, familiar voice.
“Hey! Curly! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Reluctantly, Seth swiveled around. Edie was standing on her porch, arms akimbo, one foot tapping out her annoyance.
“You’re supposed to be getting your rude friend over here so he can give Stu his statement.”
“Yeah,” Seth gulped, edging backward. “I am. I mean, he just--”
Edie’s steely squint brightened as she noticed Carlos’s car in the Solis driveway. “Oooh,” she drawled. Her mouth stretched into a smug, feline smile. “Look at that! Gaby’s jealous hulk of a husband must have dropped by while we were inside.”
“Uh-huh. So I’ll just, um, find Ryan-I mean, get him-and be right back.” Touching his forehead in a feeble salute, Seth ducked around the side of the house.
“Check for a fresh, shallow grave!” Edie shouted after him.
Seth scowled, but as soon as Edie disappeared from sight, his high spirits returned. “Ryan!” he whistled, as he trotted into the back yard. “Here, Ryan! Here, boy! Where are you hiding, you naughty puppy, you?”
“Seth!”
At the sound of Ryan’s sharp hiss, Seth slowed, but he didn't glance up. Instead, he scanned the bushes with feigned innocence. “Come on, boy! Come out. Is Ryan afwaid of the big, bad hubbie-man? Did him scare you and make you run away?”
“You are not funny, Seth!”
The threatening edge in Ryan’s voice made Seth abandon his game. “Hey,” he called. Rocking back on his heels, he greeted Ryan with a teasing wave. “There you are. You’re on a roof, dude.”
“I’m aware of that, Seth.”
“So . . . how’s the weather up there?”
“What?” Ryan demanded, his tone as taut as his grip on the tiles beneath him.
Seth gave a disingenuous shrug. “I just wondered. I figured it must be pretty hot because you know . . . no shirt.” He cocked his head, inspecting Ryan’s crouched form from another angle. “Hmm. No shoes either. Why is that, buddy?”
Flushing, Ryan shot Seth one of his patented glares, although distance diminished some of its effect. “Shut up, Seth! Is Carlos gone yet?”
“Wait, you want me to shut up and answer you at the same time? Ryan, dude, make up your mind.”
“Shake. Your damned head. Or nod.”
Seth beamed artlessly. “Okay. Now what was the question again?”
Before Ryan could respond, they heard a door slam inside the house and Gaby yelling, “You’re a pig, you know that, Carlos? A big, hairy, hypocritical pig! Acting so high and mighty after you cheated on me--”
“Me? You’re the one who had an affair with our teenage gardener!”
“Yesterday’s news, Carlos! God! Get over it!”
The volume diminished as Gaby and Carlos stormed to the other side of the house.
“Um, Ryan?” Seth whispered. “I’d say he’s still here.”
“So, Six-Pack. The roof, huh? Wonder how you wound up there.”
Seth spun around. Behind him, Edie was making herself comfortable on the lawn, leaning back on her elbows as she gazed up at Ryan.
“Great,” he groaned, shaking his head. “Just fucking great.”
Ignoring him, Seth stared at Edie. “Six-Pack?” he protested. “Hold on now. How is this fair? Ryan gets to be Six-Pack, and I’m just Curly? Or Sam?”
Edie twirled a straw in the drink she carried and took a long, slurping sip. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” she explained carelessly. Pushing up her sunglasses, she grinned at Ryan’s obvious discomfiture. “Yep. Six-Pack works. So . . . you gonna stay up there all night? It could be hours before Carlos leaves. Sometimes when he and Gaby get a little . . . carried away. Besides, Stu is waiting for your statement.” Edie rolled her eyes. “Damn insurance regulations. Apparently, he needs it in order to process my claim. So come on. Down, boy. Put those pretty muscles of yours to work.”
Snapping her fingers, Edie pointed imperiously to the grass beside her.
Ryan measured the space from his perch to the ground. “What exactly do you suggest I do?” he seethed.
“Jump.” Edie shrugged. “What is it, maybe sixteen, twenty feet? You’ll live.”
“I am not . . . jumping . . . down from here.”
“Ryan doesn’t do heights,” Seth injected helpfully.
“Seth!”
“Hey, man. I’m just sayin’.”
Edie pursed her lips. “Aw, you’re afraid of heights, Six-Pack?” she cooed. “That’s sorta cute, in a little-boy-needs-his-mama kind of way. But I don’t have forever, so get your chiseled self down from there. Now.”
Ryan didn’t budge.
“You could drop, buddy,” Seth suggested.
Skeptically, Ryan peered over the side. He blanched, and pulled his knees in closer. “I don’t think so . . .”
“Sure you could,” Seth urged. “Just slide down to the bottom of the roof, hold onto the ledge, lower your body and then . . . drop. Nothing to it.”
“That’s right, Six-Pack. Nothing to it,” Edie echoed. She batted her eyes, smirking, when Ryan glared at her.
A full minute passed.
At last, sucking in a sharp breath, Ryan began to inch cautiously down the slope. His boots and shirt, released from their holding place behind his feet, tumbled off the roof. “Shit,” he breathed, cringing as they fell.
Seth scrambled to collect the items. “Got them, Ryan!” he called softly. “Your turn! Come on, dude. Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”
“You’ll-what?” His legs already dangling over the edge, Ryan paused, blinking in consternation.
“I’ll catch you.” Ryan stared and Seth explained hastily, “I mean, not like in my arms, like you’re a baby or something. Just, you know, give you some support when you land.”
Tossing her head, Edie lifted her glass in an ironic toast and took another drink. “Ooh, this is such fun,” she observed happily. “Carry on, boys!”
Ryan’s fists clenched on the edge of the roof. With a visible effort, he began to turn around. He paused, speaking over his shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut against the sight of the ground below. “Do not try to catch me, Seth. I mean it. Back off.”
“Got it, buddy.” Seth nodded and retreated a step. “Backing off now.”
Slowly, hissing through his teeth, Ryan lowered himself from the ledge. His biceps strained and his back muscles tensed, glisteing with sweat, as he moved.
“Hey, nice rear view too, Six-Pack!” Edie sang. “It’s a shame you spoil such a fine package with that surly personality of yours!”
Ryan had been clutching the ledge, fingers locked and nails digging into the tiles, but at the sound of Edie’s voice, he let go abruptly. He dropped with a muffled “Mmph,” stumbling to his knees as he landed. Immediately Seth darted forward to help him to his feet.
“Hey, you did it, dude!” he exclaimed, patting Ryan’s shoulder and steadying him with a hand on his side. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Ryan claimed, swallowing. He swayed dizzily, leaning back, and Seth shifted to tighten his grip, letting Ryan’s head rest in the crook of his neck.
“Ah! That’s exactly the pose I want! Smile pretty, boys!”
Ryan’s eyes flashed open in alarm and Seth started, gaping, one cheek pressed against Ryan’s rumpled hair, arms still wrapped snugly around his bare waist. Edie had sidled next to them. She snapped one picture with her camera phone, darted around and took three more in rapid-fire succession before Ryan managed to shake himself free.
“What the fuck?” he growled, taking one unsteady step in Edie’s direction.
“That’s what everyone’s going to be asking,” she laughed. “You boys do make such a darling couple. And those open mouthed expressions the two of you had? Mmm, we all know what they mean.”
“But . . . but . . .” Seth stammered.
“Oh yes! I got a butt shot too. Now you get yourself dressed, Six-Pack-or not; it’s really a shame to cover up that body. But Stu’s waiting. And then when he leaves . . .” Flourishing her camera like a trophy, Edie flounced triumphantly toward her house. “I think it’s time to update my blog!”
FIN
Crossover: The O.C., Desperate Housewives
Pairings: Ryan/Gaby; Seth/Edie (sort of); Seth/Ryan (sort of)
Rating: R-ish?
Disclaimer: Don't own a one of them. And there's only one I'd want to own.
Caveat: To be honest, I think I've seen maybe ten episodes (in whole or part) of Desperate Housewives. I have no clue what the architectural details of Gaby's house are, if she and Edie live across the street from each other, or where their community is located. So those of you who are fans? Expect errors. Also, in terms of OC time, this is during Seth's and Ryan's freshman year of college. Pretend the finale never happened (not that Marissa is mentioned at all), that the boys both stayed on the West Coast for school, and that Taylor is just returning from the Sorbonne to enroll midyear at some unnamed university nearby that Seth and Ryan have never visited before.
Whew.
So without futher ado (because it isn't possible to have further ado), I give you:
Welcome to Wisteria Lane, Bitch
“Wrong way, man. I’m telling you. This is not where we want to be.”
Seth completed his left-hand turn and gave the dashboard of the 2004 Corolla a consoling pat. “Don’t listen to the grouchy guy in the passenger seat, Zoomer,” he whispered. “Would I steer you wrong?”
“According to the Mapquest directions that you choose to ignore yes, Seth, you would,” Ryan retorted. “And who the hell is Zoomer?”
“First of all, A: who are you going to trust, Ryan? Mapquest, which has doomed many an innocent driver to the on-land equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle, or the directional savvy of Seth Cohen, navigator extraordinaire?” Ryan glared, stone-faced, and Seth sighed. “Fine. Be that way. But I know where I’m going, as you, my doubting friend, will learn soon enough. And B: Zoomer is my new car. I named her.”
Ryan squinted dubiously at the speedometer. “You named your car ‘Zoomer,’ and it can’t get even past sixty-five without wheezing?”
“Dude, please! She can hear you. And she’s very sensitive.”
“She?”
“That’s right, she. And Zoomer and I would thank you to address her accordingly.”
“Zoomer can’t thank me.” Ryan pronounced the name with distaste. “It can’t talk. It’s a car.” He reached for his coffee in the cup holder, but Seth grabbed it out of his hand.
“Hey, buddy! You are no one to talk about not talking. Wait, did that make any sense?” Seth’s eyebrows squinched together as he considered the question, but then he gave up. “Anyway, so not the point,” he concluded, draining the rest of Ryan’s coffee. “The point is, Zoomer is not an inanimate object. She moves, she breathes-at least she exhales-ergo she is a living being that must have a gender, right? Besides, she’s so pretty that she has to be a girl.”
“Uh-huh. And you’re so insane that you must be . . . you.” Shaking his head wryly, Ryan peered up at the street signs and then consulted his directions again. “Look, man, I agreed to let you drive because you were excited about finally getting your own car. But face it, we’re lost. Taylor’s party-“
“Now, now, Ryan. Not her party. Read the invitation. Her Gala Dormitory Debut.”
Ryan set his jaw stubbornly. “Taylor’s party,” he repeated, “starts at seven, we’re already late, and nothing around here is even close to the address she gave us. Why is it that you can navigate on water where there are no landmarks, but you can’t read a roadmap or a three-foot tall highway exit sign?”
Seth made his “poor Ryan” face complete with rolling eyes. “Ah, grasshopper,” he sighed. “Roadmaps and signs are for the literal-minded. I? Carry my compass within.” Tapping his temple, he nodded wisely. Ryan, also nodding, raised his finger and rotated it in a ‘loco’ gesture. It took Seth a moment to realize the double insult: Ryan was using his middle finger. “Hmph,” he sniffed, affronted. “It is clear that you have not yet reached the Seth Cohen-level of enlightenment.”
“I'm enlightened enough to know that we're lost. And Seth,” Ryan growled. “Don’t call me grasshopper.”
Seth dimpled. “Okay,” he agreed brightly, as he made another turn, apparently at random. “How about Jimminy Cricket instead?”
“Stop, Seth!”
“Sometimes you have no sense of humor at all, R.A.”
“The car. Stop the car!”
“Ryan, I am not asking anyone for directions. The infallible Seth Cohen intuition will--”
“Seth, I mean it. Stop! Now!”
Instantly, Zoomer lurched to a screeching halt, but only because a candy-red convertible, backing rapidly down a curving driveway, plowed into the passenger side.
“Ryan?” Seth stammered, dazed. His hands clutched the steering wheel as he swiveled, ashen-faced, in his seat. “What just happened here?”
“Someone just hit us. Man, I told you to stop,” Ryan groaned. “That car was backing out way too fast. Are you okay?”
Seth released his death-grip on the wheel and patted himself in a gesture reminiscent of “Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes.” “Yeah, I seem to be,” he reported. “You?”
Before Ryan could reply, a blonde woman climbed out of the convertible. She strode around the front-end, her high heels clacking in staccato fury on the pavement, her eyes blazing and her ass, in skin-tight white shorts, swishing irately. Ryan forced his mangled door open and maneuvered out to meet her. “Are you all ri--” he began, but she interrupted, screaming.
“Look! Just look what you’ve done! That is my brand-new $60,000 BMW! It’s less than two weeks old! It was perfect and you ruined it!” The woman’s nails flashed glossy crimson as she waved at her vehicle’s dented rear bumper. “Not to mention what you did to my manicure!”
“What we’ve done!” Ryan retorted. “This was completely your fault.”
“It was not! You saw me coming! I heard you yelling for that idiot driver to stop.”
“Only because you obviously weren’t going to. But we were on the street. We had the right of way. You’re the one who was supposed to yield.”
Seth had scrambled out as they spoke, but he remained where he was, huddled safely away from the fray. From his sheltered vantage point, he watched the exchange, his head pivoting as though following a tennis volley.
“Right of-?” For an instant the woman looked flustered, but she rallied almost immediately. “What. Ever,” she snapped. “That’s still no way to talk to a lady.”
“I don’t see a lady, only a screaming b--”
Ryan!” Seth hissed in alarm.
“Banshee,” Ryan concluded.
“Of course I was screaming! I’ve been traumatized! And you haven’t even asked if I was hurt!”
“I tried,” Ryan snarled. “Anyway, you already told me. Your nail suffered a fatal injury. Want me to call the emergency manicure service for you?”
Seth grinned. He rapped lightly on the car hood to get Ryan’s attention. “Psst! Good one, dude,” he whispered. “Emergency manicure service-EMS. Ha! Score one for our side.” Licking his index finger, he made an invisible tally mark in the air.
The woman wheeled around, glaring. “What did you say?”
“Say? Me? Um, nothing.” Retreating a step, Seth ducked behind his side-view mirror. “Just . . . wondering if anybody needs EMS. ‘Cause I’m beginning to think that I might.”
The blonde woman’s mouth tightened, but whatever she might have replied was lost in an alarmed call.
“Edie?”
Simultaneously, Ryan and Seth turned to see a petite brunette in insanely high heels tripping down the front steps of a house across the street.
“Edie, what on earth happened? I heard a crash. Are you all right?”
“Barely. I’m almost sure I have whiplash, Gaby. And look at my car! That babbling idiot over there-” Edie pointed a red-taloned finger at Seth, “made me run into him!”
Ryan snorted and Seth scowled indignantly. “Made you? Okay, I think we’ve got a Roshomon thing going here,” he muttered. “That’s not how I remember it happening. Although the babbling part may have been true.”
Gaby’s dark eyes raked over Seth and settled on Ryan. They widened in approval as her gaze slid down his bare arms.
“Ooh,” she crooned. “You poor baby! You’re hurt!”
Seth spun around. “Ryan? You are?”
“I am?” Ryan glanced in surprise at a small gash near his wrist. “You mean that? It’s nothing,” he shrugged.
“Oh, aren’t you brave? But I’m sure it must be painful.” Shimmying her bare shoulders, Gaby shook back glossy waves of dark hair and sidled close to Ryan. “Here. Let me take a look at it.”
“Gaby!” Edie planted her fists on her hips, one foot tapping angrily. “What about me?”
Without a glance at her friend, Gaby pulled off her scarf and reached for Ryan’s hand. “Oh, Edie, honestly, you’re not bleeding. You’re fine,” she said indifferently. She dabbed at the tiny cut with a corner of the cloth and then folded it into an improvised bandage. Ignoring Ryan’s attempt to ease out of her grasp, she ran a hand over his bicep and smiled up at him. “We really should get some antiseptic on that,” she advised. “Ryan, is it? I’m Gabrielle. But you can call me Gaby.”
“Hi, Gaby.” Ryan cleared his throat. “Pretty name.”
“Yeah. One of your favorites, right dude?” Seth observed pointedly, but Ryan paid no attention to him.
“Gaby, what are you doing? I don’t care how hot he is, that boy was rude to me! And you don’t know anything about first aid!” Edie objected, but Gaby ignored her too.
Fluttering her thick fringe of lashes, Gaby inclined her head toward the street. “My house is right over there,” she murmured. “Why don’t you come with me, Ryan, and I’ll . . . take care of you.”
“Thanks. That’s really . . . nice of you, but I’m fine. And anyway, my friend--” Ryan glanced over his shoulder to where Seth had taken refuge behind him.
“Right. That would be me. His friend.” Seth nodded vigorously. “So maybe I should go with the two of you, and just, you know, make sure Ryan’s all right.”
“Oh no you don’t, Curly!” Edie warned. She moved a step closer and Seth gulped. “You are staying right here with me until we get this straightened out!”
Seth’s bobbing head changed directions, shaking a nervous protest. “You really think that’s necessary?” he asked, edging closer to Ryan. “I mean I could just give you my information and, um, get out of your way. What do you need? Phone number, address? Name, rank, serial number--”
“Stay!” Edie snapped. “I’m calling my insurance agent right now.” Whipping a phone out of her hip pocket, she jabbed a single number.
“You have your insurance agent on speed dial?” Seth asked incredulously.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
“That is about enough out of you, Buster!” Edie rounded on Ryan who merely smirked in response. “You know what, Gaby? Getting that one out of here might be a good-Hello, Stu? It’s Edie. I need you. Now.” Her voice tightened ominously. “I know that, Stu, I can count . . . Outside my house. Just get here, all right? I’ll be waiting . . . The other driver is with me . . . I don’t know, some stupid kid--” Peering at Seth, Edie demanded, “What’s your name anyway?”
Seth swallowed. “Seth,” he answered weakly. “Seth Cohen.”
“Sam Copeman,” Edie told her agent. “I don’t know . . . Some old beater . . . Right. We’ll both be here.” She snapped the phone shut and jammed it back into her pocket. Planting herself atop Zoomer’s trunk, she crossed her long Mystic-tanned legs, slid her sunglasses off her forehead, and twisted her hair into two taut pigtails. “Sit,” she ordered Seth. “We’ll wait here for Stu so I can sunbathe. Then we’ll go inside to deal with all that damn paperwork.”
“All right!" Gaby chirped. "That’s settled then.” She laced her arms possessively through Ryan’s, keeping one hand on the square of green silk “bandage” and pressing herself against his side. “Ta, Edie. Good luck with Stu!”
“Wait! Ryan?” Seth hissed. He grabbed Ryan’s belt loops, darting nervous looks at Edie, who had pulled down her sunglasses to glare at him. “You’re not going to leave me alone with . . . her . . . are you?” His voice lowered still more. “Seriously, dude, that woman is scary. And I think she may be stronger than I am.”
Ryan surveyed Edie’s broad shoulders, the toned muscles of her arms and thighs. “Gee, Seth,” he drawled. “You think?”
“Ryan, we should go,” Gaby urged, tugging him toward the curb. “I don’t want you to get any nasty germs in that cut. Do you like sangria? Because it just so happens I have a fresh batch in the fridge--”
With a “Sorry, buddy” shrug that would have looked sincere if it weren’t for his sly grin, Ryan allowed Gaby to lead him away. “Call your parents-and Taylor!” he urged without looking back.
Seth made one hesitant move to follow, but a commanding whistle halted him in his tracks. “Hey! You! Sammy! Get your skinny ass back here!” Edie ordered.
“Seth,” Seth muttered, shuffling back to the car. He peered over his shoulder at his butt. “And it’s not that skinny.”
Edie slammed one palm down flat beside her. “Whatever. I said sit.”
Reluctantly, Seth boosted himself up on the trunk, keeping a clear, assured distance between his body and Edie’s. “So, um, will it take Stu long to get here? Because if it will, I could go get us something to drink," he suggested. "Are you thirsty? I’m sure there’s a store around somewhere. Or maybe Gaby would share--”
“God!” Edie groaned, sprawling against the rear window. “Do I look like I want to talk to you, Sam?”
“Seth.”
“Whatever. Shut up.”
Sighing, Seth watched wistfully as, across the street, Gaby drew Ryan inside her house and shut the door behind them with a playful kick.
He began to think that maybe he should have checked the Mapquest directions. Now he was stuck atop his damaged car next to a bitchy blonde Warrior Princess. Meanwhile, a sexy senorita ministered to Ryan with spiced wine and TLC in the privacy of her home.
It didn’t seem fair.
This definitely was not the destination Seth had in mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“There!” Gaby announced. Cradling Ryan’s hand in her lap, she patted a second Band-aid into place and then ran her finger lightly along his palm. She wiggled just a bit, so that her short skirt hitched up higher on her slender thighs. “All better.”
Ryan’s mouth quirked into a small, lopsided smile. “Definitely,” he agreed. “Thanks. So I guess I should go--”
“No, not yet! We’re not done.” Shoving the Neosporin back in the medicine cabinet, Gaby hopped down from the bathroom counter where she had been perched. She swayed against Ryan’s chest, giggling, as she landed. “Oops! Sorry! I’m so clumsy . . .”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Gaby murmured, although she didn’t move away. Reaching blindly for her sangria, she took a sip before lifting the glass to Ryan’s lips so he could do the same. “But you know, I was thinking.” She paused to wipe the corner of his mouth with her little finger. “We should make sure you’re all really right-that you don’t have any . . . injuries . . . anywhere else.” Pressing a palm against Ryan’s stomach, Gaby gazed up at him, her eyes smoky and her lips parted to reveal the tip of her tongue.
Ryan swallowed, setting the glass back down. “I’m pretty sure that I don’t,” he said huskily.
“It never hurts to check, though, does it?” Holding Ryan’s hand in both of hers, Gaby backed across the room, pulling him along with her. “Are you hot right now, Ryan? Because I think it’s hot. We should go upstairs where it’s cooler.”
“Warm air rises, Gaby.”
“Does it really? Ooh,” Gaby purred, “I do like things that rise.” Slowly, deliberately, she urged Ryan toward the stairs and began to climb. He hesitated, two steps below her, glancing uncertainly toward the door. Then Gaby’s leg brushed against his crotch, and she arched her breasts so that they almost grazed his face.
“Coming?” she asked.
Ryan sucked in a deep, throbbing breath. “Hell, yes,” he growled.
As soon as they entered her bedroom, Gaby peeled off her top and tiny skirt, revealing a lacy peach bra and panties underneath. “Ah, that’s better,” she breathed, stretching languidly. “How about you, Ryan? Any cooler yet?”
“Not. Really. No,” Ryan admitted. His eyes darkened, becoming a deep, dangerous midnight blue.
“Well, of course you’re not! Look at you.” Licking her lips, Gaby tugged Ryan’s t-shirt out of his jeans. She began to roll it up his chest, taking her time and blowing soft puffs of air on his skin as each new inch of naked flesh was revealed. Finally, she slipped the shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor behind him. “Mmm, yes. Look at you.” With an appreciative sigh, she ran her nails down the curves of his arms. “Now, let me just make sure you don’t have any bruised ribs or . . . anything.”
Gaby pushed Ryan down on her bed and stood in front of him, smiling wickedly. He moaned deep in his throat as she wriggled between his thighs. “Nothing wrong here,” she whispered, tracing a moist line along his collarbone. Her head dipped lower, teeth nipping at his nipples. “Or here. Or . . . mmm . . . over here.”
Ryan’s breath caught as she sank to her knees, nibbling and sucking a path down to his waistband. “Ooh,” she teased, peering up impishly after a particularly enthusiastic bite. “I’m afraid you will have a bruise there tomorrow.”
“Gaby,” Ryan groaned, straining against her.
“Uh, uh, uh,” she chided, pushing him back. “The check-up isn’t over.” Sliding her palms down the inside of his legs, Gaby reached his feet. She fumbled with his laces, finally loosening them enough to yank the boots off. “Now if you’ll just lie back on the bed--”
Ryan shoved himself toward the headboard, scattering a dozen pillows and pulling Gaby’s body along with his. Cupping her ass as she clambered on top of him, he ground his mouth against her breast, panting and pushing, his fingers slipping beneath the thin fabric of her thong.
A series of violent knocks resounded through the house.
“Gaby?” a male voice yelled.
Ryan froze. Above him, Gaby paused for just a moment before she resumed nuzzling his left ear.
“Gabrielle! What the hell did you do? Change the locks?”
Gaby removed her mouth just long enough to yell back, “Of course, I changed the locks, you arrogant, two-timing bastard! You don’t live here anymore!” Flinging back her hair, she smiled reassurance at Ryan and shimmied down to dip her tongue in his bellybutton.
“Wait! Gaby, who is that?” he demanded, jerking away from her touch.
“Who is what?” she asked innocently. The pounding resumed, faster and more ferocious.
“That,” Ryan panted.
Gaby shrugged. “Oh, the beast at the door? That’s just my husband.”
“Your . . . husband?” Stunned, Ryan tried to push himself further up on the bed, but Gaby was straddling his thighs, and she didn’t move except to grind into him harder. “Gaby, I don’t do husbands. I mean, wives. Of husbands.”
“Well, he’s really my ex,” Gaby claimed, her voice muffled against Ryan’s stomach. “Or almost. I’m working on it. Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about. He can’t get in, so he’ll just huff and puff out there like the stupid big bad wolf he is. Ignore him, querido.”
Ryan frowned, but Gaby’s teeth found the tab on his zipper and she growled, starting to tug it down. His hips bucked, and he forgot everything.
There was the sound of a door scraping open below.
“Oh shit!” Gaby breathed, bolting upright. “I forgot about the patio!”
She scrambled off Ryan, squirming into a miniscule robe as he rolled hastily out of bed behind her. Bare-chested, hair disheveled, he grabbed his shoes and shirt and headed for the bedroom door.
Downstairs, the male voice grew louder and more agitated. “Where the hell are you, Gaby? We need to talk!”
Gaby seized Ryan’s shoulders and spun him around. “Not that way!” she hissed. “Out the window!”
“The window?" Ryan protested as she pushed him across the room. "I haven’t done this since I was a freshman.”
“Oh, you’re still pretty fresh, babe. Besides, I’m sure it’s like riding a bike. It will all come back to you.” Flinging open the window, Gaby stepped aside so that Ryan could climb out. As he raised a leg over the sill she ran one hand down his chest, the other hungrily cupping his crotch.
“Damn!” she sighed, shaking her head. “Such a waste.”
Footsteps started up the stairs.
“Out! Hurry!” she whispered. Raising her voice she yelled, “I warn you, Carlos! I’ll call the police if you come one step further. I’m dialing 911 right now!”
Ryan hesitated, one foot still inside the room. “Gaby, this is the second floor. I, um, don’t do so well with heights.”
“Do you do well with enraged husbands who have already served time for assault?”
“Good point.” With a deep breath, Ryan slipped out and onto a slanted ledge that formed the roof of a two-story alcove. He ducked out of sight just as the window whooshed shut behind him. “You! Carlos!" he heard Gaby protest. "Leave this house right now! I mean it. You have no right here anymore!”
Carlos pushed open the bedroom door. “Gabrielle Solis, what the hell is going on? Is somebody here with you?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why is the bed messed up like that?”
“I was taking a beauty nap! I’m a model, Carlos. It’s a professional responsibility.”
A lilting chime floated up from downstairs.
“Doorbell!” Gaby caroled. “Get out of the way, Carlos! I have a guest!”
Risking a cautious peek, Ryan saw Gaby shove her husband into the hallway and scamper out, slamming the door behind her. Then he settled down to wait, his back pressed against the wall of the house, his hands gripping the rough surface of his perch.
Inside, Gaby darted downstairs, followed by Carlos and his litany of objections. Cinching her flying robe snugly around her waist, she pushed back her tumbled hair and threw open the door.
“Sam!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Hi! What a surprise to see you here!”
Seth shuffled uncertainly on the porch, staring over Gaby’s head at Carlos’s glowering face. “Um, it’s Seth,” he stammered.
“Is this what you’re hiding? You have a new boyfriend?” Squinting in disbelief, Carlos inspected Seth. “Huh,” he snorted. “I thought you liked muscles, Gaby. This one doesn’t seem to be your type.”
“What? No! Of course he’s not.”
“Of course I’m not,” Seth agreed automatically, before he remembered to be offended. “I mean I’m not her boyfriend. But it’s not like I have no muscle tone. I’m just . . . wiry, that’s all. It's a swimmer's physique.” He glanced over his shoulder to Edie’s house. “And my ass isn’t that skinny either.”
“Who said anything about your ass?” Carlos demanded. “What do you want anyway?”
“Yes, Sam.” Gaby widened her eyes meaningfully. “What can my husband and I do for you?”
“Okay, yeah . . . Wait. Your husband?”
“That’s right,” Gaby trilled. “This is my husband, Carlos Solis. Carlos, this is a, a, a friend of Edie’s, Sam Copeman.”
“Actually, it's-oh, hell, why not? Hi. Sam Copeman. Pleased to meet you.” Seth stuck out his hand, wincing as it disappeared in a quick, crushing grip. “So, um, Gaby, is Ryan here?”
Somehow Carlos loomed taller and broader as his face darkened. “Who. Is. Ryan?” he gritted.
“Ryan? Ryan is, is . . . Sam’s . . . dog.” With a brilliant, warning smile, Gaby slipped in front of Carlos, waving a “shut-up” signal at Seth. “He’s just the most adorable puppy. What breed is he, Sam, a golden retriever?”
Seth’s mouth twitched and his eyes began to glint with amusement. “Ah, actually? Ryan is more of a mixed breed,” he replied. “Part Chino hound, part Newport, um, St. Bernard. Definitely one-of-a-kind.”
“I don’t care what kind of damn dog he is!” Carlos roared. “Why would he be here, Gaby? Since when do you baby-sit other people’s pets?”
“I don’t! I just . . . took the little rascal in once when he got lost. Did that naughty boy run away again, Sam?”
Seth’s gaze flickered from Gaby in her flimsy, revealing robe, to Carlos, who was pounding one fist into another. “Yeah,” he grinned. “That naughty boy. I’m guessing that’s just what Ryan did.”
“Oh, that’s too bad! But he’s not here. In the house. With me.” Pronouncing each phrase distinctly, Gaby flicked her fingers at Seth in a furtive “leave now” gesture. “Feel free to look around the yard though.”
Seth nodded, his dimples dancing. “Yeah, he’s probably somewhere nearby. You know animals . . . they always hang around where people feed them.” He glanced meaningfully at Gaby’s breast where her robe had slipped open and the imprint of a mouth was blooming. With a startled breath, she yanked a fold of fabric back the mark.
“Good luck finding him! And you know, Sam,” she advised, beginning to ease the door shut, “maybe you should keep that little dickens on a leash.”
“Maybe I should get that little dickens neutered.” With a gleeful wave, Seth trotted down the porch steps, smirking to himself as he headed for the back yard. He rocked to a stop at the sound of a strident, familiar voice.
“Hey! Curly! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Reluctantly, Seth swiveled around. Edie was standing on her porch, arms akimbo, one foot tapping out her annoyance.
“You’re supposed to be getting your rude friend over here so he can give Stu his statement.”
“Yeah,” Seth gulped, edging backward. “I am. I mean, he just--”
Edie’s steely squint brightened as she noticed Carlos’s car in the Solis driveway. “Oooh,” she drawled. Her mouth stretched into a smug, feline smile. “Look at that! Gaby’s jealous hulk of a husband must have dropped by while we were inside.”
“Uh-huh. So I’ll just, um, find Ryan-I mean, get him-and be right back.” Touching his forehead in a feeble salute, Seth ducked around the side of the house.
“Check for a fresh, shallow grave!” Edie shouted after him.
Seth scowled, but as soon as Edie disappeared from sight, his high spirits returned. “Ryan!” he whistled, as he trotted into the back yard. “Here, Ryan! Here, boy! Where are you hiding, you naughty puppy, you?”
“Seth!”
At the sound of Ryan’s sharp hiss, Seth slowed, but he didn't glance up. Instead, he scanned the bushes with feigned innocence. “Come on, boy! Come out. Is Ryan afwaid of the big, bad hubbie-man? Did him scare you and make you run away?”
“You are not funny, Seth!”
The threatening edge in Ryan’s voice made Seth abandon his game. “Hey,” he called. Rocking back on his heels, he greeted Ryan with a teasing wave. “There you are. You’re on a roof, dude.”
“I’m aware of that, Seth.”
“So . . . how’s the weather up there?”
“What?” Ryan demanded, his tone as taut as his grip on the tiles beneath him.
Seth gave a disingenuous shrug. “I just wondered. I figured it must be pretty hot because you know . . . no shirt.” He cocked his head, inspecting Ryan’s crouched form from another angle. “Hmm. No shoes either. Why is that, buddy?”
Flushing, Ryan shot Seth one of his patented glares, although distance diminished some of its effect. “Shut up, Seth! Is Carlos gone yet?”
“Wait, you want me to shut up and answer you at the same time? Ryan, dude, make up your mind.”
“Shake. Your damned head. Or nod.”
Seth beamed artlessly. “Okay. Now what was the question again?”
Before Ryan could respond, they heard a door slam inside the house and Gaby yelling, “You’re a pig, you know that, Carlos? A big, hairy, hypocritical pig! Acting so high and mighty after you cheated on me--”
“Me? You’re the one who had an affair with our teenage gardener!”
“Yesterday’s news, Carlos! God! Get over it!”
The volume diminished as Gaby and Carlos stormed to the other side of the house.
“Um, Ryan?” Seth whispered. “I’d say he’s still here.”
“So, Six-Pack. The roof, huh? Wonder how you wound up there.”
Seth spun around. Behind him, Edie was making herself comfortable on the lawn, leaning back on her elbows as she gazed up at Ryan.
“Great,” he groaned, shaking his head. “Just fucking great.”
Ignoring him, Seth stared at Edie. “Six-Pack?” he protested. “Hold on now. How is this fair? Ryan gets to be Six-Pack, and I’m just Curly? Or Sam?”
Edie twirled a straw in the drink she carried and took a long, slurping sip. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” she explained carelessly. Pushing up her sunglasses, she grinned at Ryan’s obvious discomfiture. “Yep. Six-Pack works. So . . . you gonna stay up there all night? It could be hours before Carlos leaves. Sometimes when he and Gaby get a little . . . carried away. Besides, Stu is waiting for your statement.” Edie rolled her eyes. “Damn insurance regulations. Apparently, he needs it in order to process my claim. So come on. Down, boy. Put those pretty muscles of yours to work.”
Snapping her fingers, Edie pointed imperiously to the grass beside her.
Ryan measured the space from his perch to the ground. “What exactly do you suggest I do?” he seethed.
“Jump.” Edie shrugged. “What is it, maybe sixteen, twenty feet? You’ll live.”
“I am not . . . jumping . . . down from here.”
“Ryan doesn’t do heights,” Seth injected helpfully.
“Seth!”
“Hey, man. I’m just sayin’.”
Edie pursed her lips. “Aw, you’re afraid of heights, Six-Pack?” she cooed. “That’s sorta cute, in a little-boy-needs-his-mama kind of way. But I don’t have forever, so get your chiseled self down from there. Now.”
Ryan didn’t budge.
“You could drop, buddy,” Seth suggested.
Skeptically, Ryan peered over the side. He blanched, and pulled his knees in closer. “I don’t think so . . .”
“Sure you could,” Seth urged. “Just slide down to the bottom of the roof, hold onto the ledge, lower your body and then . . . drop. Nothing to it.”
“That’s right, Six-Pack. Nothing to it,” Edie echoed. She batted her eyes, smirking, when Ryan glared at her.
A full minute passed.
At last, sucking in a sharp breath, Ryan began to inch cautiously down the slope. His boots and shirt, released from their holding place behind his feet, tumbled off the roof. “Shit,” he breathed, cringing as they fell.
Seth scrambled to collect the items. “Got them, Ryan!” he called softly. “Your turn! Come on, dude. Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”
“You’ll-what?” His legs already dangling over the edge, Ryan paused, blinking in consternation.
“I’ll catch you.” Ryan stared and Seth explained hastily, “I mean, not like in my arms, like you’re a baby or something. Just, you know, give you some support when you land.”
Tossing her head, Edie lifted her glass in an ironic toast and took another drink. “Ooh, this is such fun,” she observed happily. “Carry on, boys!”
Ryan’s fists clenched on the edge of the roof. With a visible effort, he began to turn around. He paused, speaking over his shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut against the sight of the ground below. “Do not try to catch me, Seth. I mean it. Back off.”
“Got it, buddy.” Seth nodded and retreated a step. “Backing off now.”
Slowly, hissing through his teeth, Ryan lowered himself from the ledge. His biceps strained and his back muscles tensed, glisteing with sweat, as he moved.
“Hey, nice rear view too, Six-Pack!” Edie sang. “It’s a shame you spoil such a fine package with that surly personality of yours!”
Ryan had been clutching the ledge, fingers locked and nails digging into the tiles, but at the sound of Edie’s voice, he let go abruptly. He dropped with a muffled “Mmph,” stumbling to his knees as he landed. Immediately Seth darted forward to help him to his feet.
“Hey, you did it, dude!” he exclaimed, patting Ryan’s shoulder and steadying him with a hand on his side. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Ryan claimed, swallowing. He swayed dizzily, leaning back, and Seth shifted to tighten his grip, letting Ryan’s head rest in the crook of his neck.
“Ah! That’s exactly the pose I want! Smile pretty, boys!”
Ryan’s eyes flashed open in alarm and Seth started, gaping, one cheek pressed against Ryan’s rumpled hair, arms still wrapped snugly around his bare waist. Edie had sidled next to them. She snapped one picture with her camera phone, darted around and took three more in rapid-fire succession before Ryan managed to shake himself free.
“What the fuck?” he growled, taking one unsteady step in Edie’s direction.
“That’s what everyone’s going to be asking,” she laughed. “You boys do make such a darling couple. And those open mouthed expressions the two of you had? Mmm, we all know what they mean.”
“But . . . but . . .” Seth stammered.
“Oh yes! I got a butt shot too. Now you get yourself dressed, Six-Pack-or not; it’s really a shame to cover up that body. But Stu’s waiting. And then when he leaves . . .” Flourishing her camera like a trophy, Edie flounced triumphantly toward her house. “I think it’s time to update my blog!”
FIN