(no subject)
Welcome to the meta, bitch! Pt. 3 Section 2
“Chino!”
Ryan’s eyes snap open and immediately close again. The negative image of Summer’s face remains burned into his retinas, her head backlit by a light bulb that couldn’t have been less than 1000 watts. He's thinking he’s in the pool house but knows somehow that’s wrong, and the confusion feels like falling into vertigo.
“Ryan, come on, dude, Zach loves to talk business, but even he gets tired of the mindless clawing to the top of the corporate pyramid after, like, hours. I think. Ok, rewind, maybe not.” Seth grabs his hand and almost pulls his arm out of the socket. “Maybe we can send Zach in for The Apprentice. Might be worth it to see the Donald say ‘You’re fired’ to Zach. Zach would be all--”
“Cohen, you are so fired. Shut the hell up!”
Ryan squints his eyes. They’re perched over him, glaring. Situation normal. Except not in the least.
“You better be nice to me, Summer, or there won’t be any more hot boy on boy action.” Seth makes a drunkenly smug face as Summer rolls her eyes.
“I don’t need your action, I’ve got the internet. So, ha!”
Just about the only important fact Ryan can sift out of all of this is that, as of yet, Zach hasn’t busted up their sex party, and that is the sort of luck he’s not used to having. Ryan indulges himself for a second in missing Luke. If Luke was the water polo player who found the three of them in bed together, he’d either take pictures with his phone to post on the Harbor LiveJournal community or join in.
Ryan’s pretty sure, from what he’s pieced together from the random shit both Summer and Seth spew out, that Zach is more likely to write an essay on the political ramifications of intimate relationships or lecture them about “adult behavior”.
And he’d judge.
Ryan can’t ride all the way back to Newport with a lecturing, judging Zach and a babbling, drunken, explaining Seth and a bitching, raging…
“Ok, up.” Ryan scrunches towards the edge of the bed. Summer and Seth peel away from him, rolling to their feet. Summer smoothes her clothes.
She’s still wearing all her clothes.
“How long was I out?” Couldn’t’ve been long.
“Long enough for Cohen to, like, totally come in his pants.” With that Summer turns and flounces to the door, throwing it open and leaving Seth running his hands through his hair and Ryan wondering if he should feel some way about tonight. Some way that isn’t that it’s the culmination of all of Summer’s incompetent manipulation, too much free time for the idle children of the rich, and Ryan’s lack of a central moral compass since he watched his brother shot to death by his girlfriend.
All he really feels is hungry. And maybe horny again. Ryan glances over at Seth. He doesn’t look embarrassed as much as annoyed. “She totally cockblocked me, man.”
“Huh?” Does he want to know? “Do I want to know?”
Seth sweeps around him in Summer’s wake. Seth looks over his shoulder, and ok, is Seth annoyed Summer joined in? Ryan doesn’t want to deal with their dynamic. “Seth, man…”
“Dude, do you think the Crab Shack’s still open? I feel like sea food. Maybe oysters, oooooh, yeah, with horseradish and saltines. Whattaya think, Ryan? Oysters?” Ryan follows Seth, clicks the light out as he leaves the room. Ryan needs a cigarette and about three years of silence.
“They’re open until two on the weekends.” Oysters sound great.
*
Either Zach is innocent or totally unflappable. Seth and Summer try to flap him all the way back to Newport, but Zach just keeps steering the conversation back to contracts and limited runs and action figures.
Summer bitches about the music being emo, her skin being dry, Silverlake sucking, Zach’s new haircut being so Brit-rock, comic books being boring, the air conditioning smelling like ozone, and how Reed is a total user whore bitch from the sixth circle of hell.
Seth complains about being hungry, muses on vodka gimlets not really being his drink, harasses Zach about not losing artistic integrity, babbles about Summer’s skin cream tasting like vanilla icing--and then about how it wasn’t like he’d know from today or any other day recently because they were totally broken up--and runs the backs of his fingers over Ryan’s hand and arm and knee when he thinks Zach isn’t looking the rearview.
Zach is looking in the rearview a whole lot more than Seth realizes, but Ryan doesn’t feel like giving a shit about Zach. He’s nice enough, but he is just some random guy who appeared out of nowhere to cause conflict in the story of Seth’s life. Then, when that plot ran its course, Zach became a catalyst for Seth to get some kind of cosmic reward for all his years of suffering in geekish hell.
Ryan’s emotional reaction to Zach is proportional to his role as a cipher.
Summer is working herself into a fury over Carrie on The Valley completely losing her personality and becoming a useless carpet of a character when they roll into the parking lot of the Crab Shack.
“Crabby patties!” Seth leaps out of the car with more energy than Ryan thinks he’s ever felt in his life.
“Later,” Summer says, waves her fingers at Zach, and slams her door hard behind her.
“Thanks for the ride.” Ryan opens his own door, wondering if he should invite Zach along. It’s the polite thing to do, but it would also highlight how Seth and Summer had very much not invited him along. Ryan meets Zach’s eyes in the mirror.
“Don’t sweat it, man. They’re your drama, not mine.” Zach smiles.
Ryan could say a lot of things to that, but he just gets out of the car. Zach makes it easy to forget him, and Ryan has by the time he hits the door to the restaurant.
*
Ryan dreams that night about Trey and Theresa. They’re in a Greyhound station full of drunks and women dragging their children by the arm and kids with huge sports’ bags. When his brother and the first girl he ever loved open their mouths to speak, static feedback streams out of their mouths. They keep trying, their faces so emphatic that Ryan’s scared, sure what they’re saying is the most important thing he’ll ever hear. But they eventually give up, and when Ryan chases after them, they both get on a bus with no destination on the front.
When he wakes up, Ryan’s jangled, still scared, but he thinks that if that’s the best his subconscious can do now, the Ambien’s working.
*
“I know you can hook me up.” Hayley makes a sarcastic face. He thinks about telling her to fuck off, but he doesn’t hate her, just thinks she needs to go live somewhere else before Kirsten gets out of rehab and Hayley fucks her up all over again.
“You should talk to Summer.” He sips his coffee as she watches him. “Or maybe you should get clean.”
“Maybe you should get some therapy, too.” Her expression softens. It’s not a dig, just the truth. She’s telling him that she’s further down the path he’s currently on. But Ryan’s got just as much experience with the road to hell as Hayley does.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He looks her directly in the face. She hasn’t lost a bunch of weight, so it’s not much of a habit yet. It’s her life. He’s got enough people to carry on his back already. All the same he wonders if this new bender is because of Jimmy Cooper. Jimmy has even less luck with women than Ryan.
“’K,” she says, and heads to the fridge for juice. He watches her, and he realizes it’s too late--he already feels responsible for her and has ever since he caught her stripping to support her last habit. Some days he hates his mom for doing this shit to him.
*
“Hayley wants me to score for her.” Ryan learned a long time ago that the hard things that have to be said just have to be said. If your first impulse is to lie about it, just put it out there as fast and as hard as you can. Otherwise you do lie about it, or only tell half if it, and it’s better to deal with consequences upfront than agonizing about it for months. The waiting for shit to go to hell is the worst part.
Seth doesn’t look surprised, just leans back on the couch and yawns without pausing Vice City. “Sounds like a job for Miss Vixen.” Ryan guesses either Seth is growing up and becoming more aware of his environment, or somewhere along the way he misjudged Seth’s drama threshold.
Ryan doesn’t reply. He’s trying to decide if Seth not reacting means he needs to take some sort of action, what kind of action he’s not sure.
“Ryan, dude, my mom’s in rehab, of course Hayley’s on drugs. Have you talked to her lately? She sounds like Summer on a six pack of Mountain Dew most of the time. You can’t fix everyone.” Ryan looks at Seth. Was that wisdom or self-absorption? “Don’t you want to find out what it’s like to be Holly and all those kids who spend the summer partying and drinking and passing out on the beach, having people write fag on them with zinc?”
Well…
“Because I could use some Seth-Ryan time. And I’ll just shut up now.” Seth clamps his mouth shut, turning his lips white. Ryan wonders where Sandy is. Then he wonders if Summer’s going to be pissed.
Ryan knocks the controller out of Seth’s hand, sending it bouncing on the rug. Seth doesn’t hesitate; Ryan thinks he might be scared to say anything and make this stop, to make Ryan think about what’s happening. But all Ryan does is think, so he laughs as Seth twists around and pushes Ryan back against the armrest. Ryan’s hand slides inside Seth’s shirt, the other into his hair, and because he’s laughing, Seth’s tongue slips into his mouth before their lips even meet. Seth isn’t put off by the laughter, can’t take it as a mixed signal, because Ryan’s thumb brushes Seth’s nipple--that’s a pretty clear yes.
Seth has an agenda. A plan, because the kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough to call this making out, and no way would he slide to his knees without considering this from every angle, maybe even drawing up some sketches to better figure out particulars. Ryan closes his eyes. He cannot watch this. Not because he has any problem with this--am I gay for Seth? he thinks-but because he doesn’t want Seth to feel weird. Seth doesn’t like being watched. Which is something to explore later since Ryan is going to see Seth and Summer at least make out; he’s going to push this thing until it bleeds. He thinks about Seth learning from Summer as Seth pops his jeans open, dead silent. Ryan would have figured Seth for a talker. You never know what someone’s like during sex until you experience it first hand, though.
Ryan is a talker.
“Seth--” His words spill out as Seth sucks the vein on the underside of his cock; this is going to be nasty and serious, not playing around. “Seth, I…”
Ryan isn’t sure he can take it. Seth sucks the head into his mouth and keeps going, one hand trying to hold Ryan down on the couch when he thrusts up. No way is Ryan going to be able to control himself.
“Seth, maybe…” He wants to warn him, but Seth descends again like he doesn’t care that Ryan’s shoving at the back of his mouth and pulling his hair and trying to fuck his way to the center of Seth against his best intentions. The suction and heat of Seth’s mouth work on his guilt and the self-recrimination that he can’t even do this right, can’t make this good for Seth, because Ryan just wants to fuck himself out of his own head. All of that wraps together until Seth starts to work his finger behind Ryan’s balls, he knows what Seth is about to do.
Just the thought that Seth would think about that, maybe fantasize about it and jack off, is perfect…
Ryan comes with his hand holding Seth’s head still. He’s way stronger than Seth, and he should be careful, should be so many things, but his hips thrust up hard. In the blackness of pleasure his brain closes down and all there is bliss and forever and a slick abyss.
Ryan’s eyes fly open and he drops his hand. Seth pushes back, coughing, spit and come on his face, wiping at it all with the back of his hand. Whoosh, there’s the guilt, and Ryan doesn’t get an afterglow respite from himself.
He just came damned close to…
“I’d've paid fifty bucks to see that.” Seth hits the floor face first and Ryan snatches a pillow to cover his crotch. Hayley rounds the couch. “So now that the big gay love scene is over, can we get back to the drugs?” Ryan thinks it might take all of the opium in China to erase the humiliation of this. He’s surprised that he has that much shame left. He doesn’t care that Hayley saw them together, but that Seth is bound to be scarred.
“Hayley, go away.” Seth’s voice is muffled by the arms over his head and carpet against his mouth.
“Whatever. I’ve done and seen worse. Welcome to being a Nichol, Seth, addiction soon to follow.” She shuffles away and Ryan wonders if this is some sort of blackmail scenario now.
“She’s my aunt, dude. That was like somehow incest, Ryan.” Seth looks up at him, his mouth swollen and cheeks flushed, and Ryan’s actually thankful to Hayley for shifting the fucked-up vibe from what they did to the fact that she saw it.
“I guess you don’t want me to get you back then?” He laughs at Seth’s eye roll. He’s starting to think that whoever is writing his life’s script now might actually like him.
He’d have to set up some kind of shrine if it would mean more sex. The voice in his head fills in You mean more sex with Seth, right? You’re so gay for him.
His inner voice is starting to sound like Miss Vixen.
*
So... I hate Zach. Fine. Let's just put that out into the universe. He's SOOOOOO boring. BLAH! But, I will admit, he's exactly the guy that Summer, pre-Seth, went for. I get that. It doesn't make him any more interesting.
Hayley is a horse of another color. *oh, the drug puns!* Anyway, she is just about all my friends when I was growing up. Josh totally stole that stripper when the trustfund ran out from a real person, I know it.
I might take requests on the next part. I was going to make this the END END. But whatever, I will stop lying. Hello, my name is Kassie and I'm a fucking addict. Now I will go and admit to everyone that I keep blabbing to about the OC that I know that ruined their lives and then make restitution by writing O11 fic (ok, because I say to *someone* "what do you want me to write you?" and that *someone* says "Summer/Rusty" and I'm like "Oh, right, so you want me to start *another* epic, multipart fic I will never finish. I only have about five of those."). OR maybe I will clean out the basement and think about the next part of this.
eta: now with commas in the right place thanks to Anna.
Ok, there's SV RPS? Cough it up, bitches! Tom Welling porn, and I ain't know it? Fired isn't even bad enough. I will have to get out the death ray.