Fic: Bright Angels Beside by Hyperfocused (The O.C, Ryan/Seth Rated R)
Title: Bright Angels Beside
Author: HYPERFocused
Fandom: The O.C
Pairing: Ryan/Seth, Ryan/Marissa, Ryan/Theresa
Rating: R
Summary: Past, present and future, Ryan sleeps.
A/N: A Drabble-On, Ten connected 100 word drabbles for the Contrelamontre Sleep challenge. I used the full hour to write, plus a little more to tweak it for the word count.
1.
Dawn Atwood never read a parenting book, or skimmed an article in a magazine at the pediatrician’s waiting room.
So she doesn’t know about the schools of thought about when one should let the baby cry, or not. She just doesn’t want to be bothered when he does.
“Go check on your brother, Trey,” she says, and takes another drag on her cigarette.
“If he doesn’t shut the fuck up and sleep, I’ll give him something to cry about,” she adds. She’s got a headache, and this is her last pack.
Trey drops his favorite Matchbox car in the crib.
2.
“Go back to sleep, son,” his father says, kissing him goodbye. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.”
Not even with ‘good behavior,’ is what comes to Ryan’s mind. He’s seen a lot of cop shows, he knows what that means. Besides, it’s not like being good ever worked for Ryan.
.
“I love you, Daddy. Don’t go.” He hates himself for begging. Ryan knows he won’t come back again.
“You, too, kiddo. Now be a big boy and take care of your mother.”
Ryan can’t help but notice that all he says to Trey is “You be good, now.”
3.
It’s no wonder Ryan is so good in the school play. He’s always been good at pretending. He feigns sleep when his mother’s boyfriend comes into the room, curling inward when the creep tries to touch him. He looks loose limbed and limp, out for the night, but inside his head he’s screaming “no”.
Usually it’s enough to stop him from trying anything, but he gets him back with shoves and cuffs to the head in the daytime.
“You just don’t want me to be happy, do you, Ryan?” his mother says, when he gets up the nerve to complain.
4.
“Wake up, Brat,” Trey says, poking Ryan in the arm until he does. Ryan is eight.
Trey is his big brother, and his breath smells sweet, and a little wrong. Just like Mom’s. “What, Trey? I was sleeping!”
“Hide this.” He shoves a wad of bills under Ryan’s sheets. ”Mom’s asshole boyfriend will never suspect you. You’re the good one.”
He’s right. It’s Dawn who gets the fist to her face for ripping him off. “Fucking whore,” the guy says before he bolts out the door.
Their mom doesn’t ask what he’s talking about, and neither he nor Trey volunteer.
5.
“I’m in serious trouble here, Ry,” Trey tells him, shaking him awake. He’s using that ‘we’re best buds’ voice he only turns on when he wants something from Ryan. "You gotta help me out, man. Besides, you’re sixteen. It’s long since past time you learned how to steal a car.”
“I thought you said it was just a joyride.” Ryan protests, but he follows Trey out anyway.
“Well, yeah. Just a little longer one. Don’t worry.”
Of course Ryan does, it’s what he does best. From the sound of the sirens growing closer, he knows he was right all along.
6.
Ryan can’t say the futon in the pool-house is comfortable, but it’s like sleeping on a cloud compared to the stinky, stained mattress of the Juvie cot.
He likes having the space to himself. It gives him time to think, to make himself into whatever they want him to be.
It’s best if he doesn’t think about Seth’s hands wrapped around the joystick, or the way his lips moved as he talked.
He’s sure they don’t want him to be that.
Seth’s arms are warm around him as he hugs him goodbye, and Ryan is relieved they’ll never have to know.
7.
He lies beside Theresa in a bed of obligation; though he’s pretty sure he brought that weight on himself. He’s not the only one who’s been fishing in her sea. It’s like an anchor holding him down. He can drift, but he’ll never get anywhere.
Ryan imagines the baby swimming in its own private sea, completely unprepared for its future.
He imagines Seth, sunburned and scared on that stupid little boat, just as adrift and alone.
He doesn’t think he can tread long enough to keep them all afloat, and he doesn’t think he can choose which one to save.
8
Ryan hates the way everyone’s being pulled apart. Kirsten fell into her pain, trying to save herself with alcohol. Better brands than he saw his mother drink, but drowning is drowning no matter where one sinks. The difference is, Kirsten has all of them to help drag her out.
It’s strange not having her around, like a compass with only three directions. Feeling at a loss without her, he and Seth and Sandy let dishes and disasters pile up equally high.
Seth’s bed is rumpled and piled with crap. He shoves it to the floor to make room for Ryan.
9.
Ryan has tried, but he just can’t sleep with Marissa. They have sex, and he tries to give her everything she needs. Probably more than she deserves, if truth be told.
But the only thing that lets him drift off next to her is the image of Seth, sleeping unconcerned at home. Sure, Seth acts selfish on the surface, but he always comes through for Ryan in the end.
Marissa has no room for anyone but herself.
In all his time with her, Ryan has discovered one important thing. It’s good to be needed. It’s quite another to be consumed.
10.
The mornings after they don’t have sex, Ryan pays for it in bruises. Not so much of a new thing for him since his move from Chino, but these marks he doesn’t mind.
Seth spazzes in his sleep, legs scissoring, arms flailing, until Ryan stirs enough to pull Seth close to him, his strong arm around Seth’s chest calming him. Calming them both, if truth be told.
Mornings after they do have sex, Seth sleeps deeply, only the occasional murmur escaping. It’s Ryan who lies awake, reliving the night in his head, and wondering how it was he got so lucky.
Author: HYPERFocused
Fandom: The O.C
Pairing: Ryan/Seth, Ryan/Marissa, Ryan/Theresa
Rating: R
Summary: Past, present and future, Ryan sleeps.
A/N: A Drabble-On, Ten connected 100 word drabbles for the Contrelamontre Sleep challenge. I used the full hour to write, plus a little more to tweak it for the word count.
1.
Dawn Atwood never read a parenting book, or skimmed an article in a magazine at the pediatrician’s waiting room.
So she doesn’t know about the schools of thought about when one should let the baby cry, or not. She just doesn’t want to be bothered when he does.
“Go check on your brother, Trey,” she says, and takes another drag on her cigarette.
“If he doesn’t shut the fuck up and sleep, I’ll give him something to cry about,” she adds. She’s got a headache, and this is her last pack.
Trey drops his favorite Matchbox car in the crib.
2.
“Go back to sleep, son,” his father says, kissing him goodbye. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.”
Not even with ‘good behavior,’ is what comes to Ryan’s mind. He’s seen a lot of cop shows, he knows what that means. Besides, it’s not like being good ever worked for Ryan.
.
“I love you, Daddy. Don’t go.” He hates himself for begging. Ryan knows he won’t come back again.
“You, too, kiddo. Now be a big boy and take care of your mother.”
Ryan can’t help but notice that all he says to Trey is “You be good, now.”
3.
It’s no wonder Ryan is so good in the school play. He’s always been good at pretending. He feigns sleep when his mother’s boyfriend comes into the room, curling inward when the creep tries to touch him. He looks loose limbed and limp, out for the night, but inside his head he’s screaming “no”.
Usually it’s enough to stop him from trying anything, but he gets him back with shoves and cuffs to the head in the daytime.
“You just don’t want me to be happy, do you, Ryan?” his mother says, when he gets up the nerve to complain.
4.
“Wake up, Brat,” Trey says, poking Ryan in the arm until he does. Ryan is eight.
Trey is his big brother, and his breath smells sweet, and a little wrong. Just like Mom’s. “What, Trey? I was sleeping!”
“Hide this.” He shoves a wad of bills under Ryan’s sheets. ”Mom’s asshole boyfriend will never suspect you. You’re the good one.”
He’s right. It’s Dawn who gets the fist to her face for ripping him off. “Fucking whore,” the guy says before he bolts out the door.
Their mom doesn’t ask what he’s talking about, and neither he nor Trey volunteer.
5.
“I’m in serious trouble here, Ry,” Trey tells him, shaking him awake. He’s using that ‘we’re best buds’ voice he only turns on when he wants something from Ryan. "You gotta help me out, man. Besides, you’re sixteen. It’s long since past time you learned how to steal a car.”
“I thought you said it was just a joyride.” Ryan protests, but he follows Trey out anyway.
“Well, yeah. Just a little longer one. Don’t worry.”
Of course Ryan does, it’s what he does best. From the sound of the sirens growing closer, he knows he was right all along.
6.
Ryan can’t say the futon in the pool-house is comfortable, but it’s like sleeping on a cloud compared to the stinky, stained mattress of the Juvie cot.
He likes having the space to himself. It gives him time to think, to make himself into whatever they want him to be.
It’s best if he doesn’t think about Seth’s hands wrapped around the joystick, or the way his lips moved as he talked.
He’s sure they don’t want him to be that.
Seth’s arms are warm around him as he hugs him goodbye, and Ryan is relieved they’ll never have to know.
7.
He lies beside Theresa in a bed of obligation; though he’s pretty sure he brought that weight on himself. He’s not the only one who’s been fishing in her sea. It’s like an anchor holding him down. He can drift, but he’ll never get anywhere.
Ryan imagines the baby swimming in its own private sea, completely unprepared for its future.
He imagines Seth, sunburned and scared on that stupid little boat, just as adrift and alone.
He doesn’t think he can tread long enough to keep them all afloat, and he doesn’t think he can choose which one to save.
8
Ryan hates the way everyone’s being pulled apart. Kirsten fell into her pain, trying to save herself with alcohol. Better brands than he saw his mother drink, but drowning is drowning no matter where one sinks. The difference is, Kirsten has all of them to help drag her out.
It’s strange not having her around, like a compass with only three directions. Feeling at a loss without her, he and Seth and Sandy let dishes and disasters pile up equally high.
Seth’s bed is rumpled and piled with crap. He shoves it to the floor to make room for Ryan.
9.
Ryan has tried, but he just can’t sleep with Marissa. They have sex, and he tries to give her everything she needs. Probably more than she deserves, if truth be told.
But the only thing that lets him drift off next to her is the image of Seth, sleeping unconcerned at home. Sure, Seth acts selfish on the surface, but he always comes through for Ryan in the end.
Marissa has no room for anyone but herself.
In all his time with her, Ryan has discovered one important thing. It’s good to be needed. It’s quite another to be consumed.
10.
The mornings after they don’t have sex, Ryan pays for it in bruises. Not so much of a new thing for him since his move from Chino, but these marks he doesn’t mind.
Seth spazzes in his sleep, legs scissoring, arms flailing, until Ryan stirs enough to pull Seth close to him, his strong arm around Seth’s chest calming him. Calming them both, if truth be told.
Mornings after they do have sex, Seth sleeps deeply, only the occasional murmur escaping. It’s Ryan who lies awake, reliving the night in his head, and wondering how it was he got so lucky.