OC Fic - Seth as a Verb
I missed my two-year LJ anniversary due to various commitments; so I shall write myself stuff to make it up to me.
Unknowingly inspired by happyminion and betad by serialkarma.
The O.C.
Seth. v. (seth). Actions inspired by the mannerisms, character and vocalizations of Seth Cohen, son of Kirsten Nichols Cohen and Sandy Cohen. Lately of Newport Beach, Orange County, California. 1. That’s very Seth of you. 2. He pulled a Seth.
1.
Ryan is shaking. He can actually feel the vibrations shooting down his leg and into his boot. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this nervous about anything that didn’t have to do with Trey, visiting his dad or someone dating his mom -- but this is Seth, and Ryan has no reason to be nervous. Except that Seth won’t look at him, and after nine months of nothing but unabashed honesty, it’s like somebody pulled the plug. It’s like he’s finally being sent home.
Ryan doesn’t know this Seth - this stranger who won’t deign to look him in the eye. His Seth would never ignore him. His Seth - hasn’t been his Seth for quite some time. And Ryan doesn’t even know what’s coming out his mouth, because he bought that map for their trip, and when Seth finally opens it he’s going to see all the notes Ryan’s scrawled on it about times and places and trails for hiking and sailing. Not that those notes matter now.
Except that the tag of Ryan’s hoodie is scratching the back of his neck, and he’s harboring the memory of arms around his shoulders that don’t belong to Marissa or Theresa. He knows he’s babbling. He knows that he’s saying everything except what he really wants to say:
I’m sorry this happened.
This doesn’t change anything between us.
I still love you a lot.
Did I mention that I’m sorry?
There are so many thoughts that he can’t even get them all out in time - and then time just runs out.
2.
The engine of the car is still warm when Sandy’s call comes down the line. Of course it would have to be Sandy since Kirsten -- God, Ryan can just imagine Kirsten freaking out right now. Glass of wine in one hand, Palm Pilot in the other, and the Harbor Police on the cordless phone tucked between her neck and shoulder with all the tension in her body focused on that one action. All that stress over losing her son.
The first thing Ryan says is that he’ll come home right away, except that Sandy says ‘no’ and then Theresa says ‘no’ and what exactly would he do anyway? It’s not like Newport is his home anymore. It’s not like he would even know what to say, especially since Ryan left Seth behind to do the honorable thing for a kid that might not be his. Hell, it’s not like Seth left him a goodbye note, either.
Except Ryan knows that Seth would go looking for him.
3.
He takes a Greyhound to Newport after Sandy calls to tell him that Seth is back. He takes another bus to get dropped off near the house. There’s dirt under his fingernails from working the midnight shift, and he hasn’t showered in twenty hours at least.
Ryan still has his key attached to his key ring and fortunately the Cohens haven’t changed the security code for the front door in the last month. He can smell the salt from the water -- after all those months living here he’d grown immune, but now it’s like his first visit all over again.
He lets himself in the front door, and it’s like a bad case of déjà vu. Seth’s sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, playing Zelda in his 78 shirt, with a bowl of cereal by his left leg. His face is impossibly sunburned, his nose is peeling and he actually stands up when Ryan comes in through the kitchen.
When Ryan hits him it’s like punching himself in the gut.
4.
When Kirsten makes her weekly call to check in on him and Theresa, she doesn’t mention his visit to Seth.
5.
Marissa comes for Ryan after Theresa loses the baby, and the entire ride back she fidgets with the radio. Every time she tries to start a conversation he shuts her down, and when she drops him off at the Cohen’s he turns his head to the side to avoid her kiss. She may not smell like alcohol, but Ryan would recognize those bloodshot eyes and shakes anywhere.
6.
The curtains to the guesthouse are drawn, but the door is unlocked, and all Ryan wants to do is crawl into bed and pretend like the last three months never happened at all.
He doesn’t want to think about fighting with Eddie or the way Theresa turned away when she told him about the baby. He doesn’t want to think about what he should do about Marissa or whether or not Seth is ever going to forgive him for what he’s done. He’s just glad to be home. He just hopes that Sandy and Kirsten are still willing to take him back -- and he’s completely unprepared to see that the pool house has been taken over by Seth. It’s almost as shocking to see Seth curled up in his bed like an OC version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and it’s an automatic reaction from Ryan that makes him shuck his boots and jacket and climb into bed too.
When he wraps himself around Seth, he does it instinctively as though if he holds on tight enough then maybe he can pretend nothing has ever changed between them.
It’s a very Seth thing to do.
-end-
ETN: I am well aware that using Seth in this manner is actually relegating him to an adjective not a verb, but I am partial to this title. If you can't deal, no one is forcing you to read this.
Unknowingly inspired by happyminion and betad by serialkarma.
The O.C.
Seth. v. (seth). Actions inspired by the mannerisms, character and vocalizations of Seth Cohen, son of Kirsten Nichols Cohen and Sandy Cohen. Lately of Newport Beach, Orange County, California. 1. That’s very Seth of you. 2. He pulled a Seth.
1.
Ryan is shaking. He can actually feel the vibrations shooting down his leg and into his boot. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this nervous about anything that didn’t have to do with Trey, visiting his dad or someone dating his mom -- but this is Seth, and Ryan has no reason to be nervous. Except that Seth won’t look at him, and after nine months of nothing but unabashed honesty, it’s like somebody pulled the plug. It’s like he’s finally being sent home.
Ryan doesn’t know this Seth - this stranger who won’t deign to look him in the eye. His Seth would never ignore him. His Seth - hasn’t been his Seth for quite some time. And Ryan doesn’t even know what’s coming out his mouth, because he bought that map for their trip, and when Seth finally opens it he’s going to see all the notes Ryan’s scrawled on it about times and places and trails for hiking and sailing. Not that those notes matter now.
Except that the tag of Ryan’s hoodie is scratching the back of his neck, and he’s harboring the memory of arms around his shoulders that don’t belong to Marissa or Theresa. He knows he’s babbling. He knows that he’s saying everything except what he really wants to say:
I’m sorry this happened.
This doesn’t change anything between us.
I still love you a lot.
Did I mention that I’m sorry?
There are so many thoughts that he can’t even get them all out in time - and then time just runs out.
2.
The engine of the car is still warm when Sandy’s call comes down the line. Of course it would have to be Sandy since Kirsten -- God, Ryan can just imagine Kirsten freaking out right now. Glass of wine in one hand, Palm Pilot in the other, and the Harbor Police on the cordless phone tucked between her neck and shoulder with all the tension in her body focused on that one action. All that stress over losing her son.
The first thing Ryan says is that he’ll come home right away, except that Sandy says ‘no’ and then Theresa says ‘no’ and what exactly would he do anyway? It’s not like Newport is his home anymore. It’s not like he would even know what to say, especially since Ryan left Seth behind to do the honorable thing for a kid that might not be his. Hell, it’s not like Seth left him a goodbye note, either.
Except Ryan knows that Seth would go looking for him.
3.
He takes a Greyhound to Newport after Sandy calls to tell him that Seth is back. He takes another bus to get dropped off near the house. There’s dirt under his fingernails from working the midnight shift, and he hasn’t showered in twenty hours at least.
Ryan still has his key attached to his key ring and fortunately the Cohens haven’t changed the security code for the front door in the last month. He can smell the salt from the water -- after all those months living here he’d grown immune, but now it’s like his first visit all over again.
He lets himself in the front door, and it’s like a bad case of déjà vu. Seth’s sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, playing Zelda in his 78 shirt, with a bowl of cereal by his left leg. His face is impossibly sunburned, his nose is peeling and he actually stands up when Ryan comes in through the kitchen.
When Ryan hits him it’s like punching himself in the gut.
4.
When Kirsten makes her weekly call to check in on him and Theresa, she doesn’t mention his visit to Seth.
5.
Marissa comes for Ryan after Theresa loses the baby, and the entire ride back she fidgets with the radio. Every time she tries to start a conversation he shuts her down, and when she drops him off at the Cohen’s he turns his head to the side to avoid her kiss. She may not smell like alcohol, but Ryan would recognize those bloodshot eyes and shakes anywhere.
6.
The curtains to the guesthouse are drawn, but the door is unlocked, and all Ryan wants to do is crawl into bed and pretend like the last three months never happened at all.
He doesn’t want to think about fighting with Eddie or the way Theresa turned away when she told him about the baby. He doesn’t want to think about what he should do about Marissa or whether or not Seth is ever going to forgive him for what he’s done. He’s just glad to be home. He just hopes that Sandy and Kirsten are still willing to take him back -- and he’s completely unprepared to see that the pool house has been taken over by Seth. It’s almost as shocking to see Seth curled up in his bed like an OC version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and it’s an automatic reaction from Ryan that makes him shuck his boots and jacket and climb into bed too.
When he wraps himself around Seth, he does it instinctively as though if he holds on tight enough then maybe he can pretend nothing has ever changed between them.
It’s a very Seth thing to do.
-end-
ETN: I am well aware that using Seth in this manner is actually relegating him to an adjective not a verb, but I am partial to this title. If you can't deal, no one is forcing you to read this.