ryan/summer. you know it's right.
For buffyx. A slightly revised version of her drabble request from earlier today.
Also, for lalejandra, who asked for Ryan/Summer a long time ago. Although I still owe you your own.
Summer/Ryan. Set before The Heartbreak
Summer Roberts did not want to live in a sitcom. Her life was much more teen drama than sitcom.
But, no, here she was, in a stopped elevator, which was the most sitcommy of sitcom situations (say that three times fast), with Chino no less.
If she were really in a sitcom, then there would be an incredibly pregnant woman in the elevator with them too, whose water had just broken, and Summer would totally have to sully her manicure and deliver the baby with only a bobby pin and a blanket made out of her sweater while the firemen shouted echoed instructions down the dark shaft.
If she were on a *good* sitcom, the firemen would be really hot, and one would ask her for her number after he rescued her and the baby, and praise her for keeping cool under pressure. Then he'd buy her pretty things.
But there were no pregnant women in the elevator at the moment, and definitely no hot firemen waiting outside. Just her. And Ryan.
Actually, she might have preferred the pregnant woman to Ryan, because she had no idea that boys from Chino freaked out. Well, she did, because Marissa told her that he did. But hearing and doing were totally different things.
Like, she was fine. In the approximately forty eight seconds since the hotel elevator had stopped (with them in it), Summer had calmly dug through her purse, located her cell phone beneath her pink and green makeup bag, discovered she apparently had forgotten to charge it the night before, yelled a few expletives and then stood, unmoving, with her hand on her hip, more befuddled and pissed than anything else.
Ryan? Was a different story.
He was sitting with his back to the corner of the wood and mirror paneled walls, shifting his jaw back and forth as his hands sought to bury themselves beneath the thin tan and burgundy carpet that covered the elevator floor.
Summer narrowed her eyes and finally turned to Ryan. "I thought you were only afraid of heights."
Ryan's eyes were blank and wide when he looked up at Summer, and a twinge not unlike an electrical pulse jolted her back to sympathy.
"Okay, okay, you're afraid of small spaces too." She moved from where she'd been standing next to the silver panel, pressing the red "call" button repeatedly, and slid to a seat next to Ryan, tucking her feet under legs.
"Actual small spaces, not poolhouse small spaces." Ryan cracked through tight lips.
Summer considered this. "Yep. Cohen would pretty much die if he were stuck in here. He would start talking, and *I* would probably have to kill him."
Ryan let out a strained laugh before falling into uneasy silence again.
Summer remembered what Marissa had said, about how she'd taken Ryan's mind off the heights in the Ferris wheel, and her eyes scanned Ryan's mouth, his set jaw.
He was different than Cohen, and belonged to Marissa in more ways than one.
But right then, in the tiny box of the stalled elevator, as Ryan’s hand sought out her leg and gripped her calf tightly, Summer knew there was a reason why she let her body fall into him in a drunken stupor, back before he was “Chino” and he was just a cute guy with mysterious eyes and killer arms.
The elevator miraculously hummed to a start again before she had time to consider what this meant. Ryan stood and lifted her with him as the numbers above the door lit and decreased, and she faltered a little under Ryan’s touch before finding her footing. And when the silver doors slid open and they stepped into the lobby, Summer wondered why it took until she was out of the elevator for her stomach to begin to flutter.
--finis--
Also, for lalejandra, who asked for Ryan/Summer a long time ago. Although I still owe you your own.
Summer/Ryan. Set before The Heartbreak
Summer Roberts did not want to live in a sitcom. Her life was much more teen drama than sitcom.
But, no, here she was, in a stopped elevator, which was the most sitcommy of sitcom situations (say that three times fast), with Chino no less.
If she were really in a sitcom, then there would be an incredibly pregnant woman in the elevator with them too, whose water had just broken, and Summer would totally have to sully her manicure and deliver the baby with only a bobby pin and a blanket made out of her sweater while the firemen shouted echoed instructions down the dark shaft.
If she were on a *good* sitcom, the firemen would be really hot, and one would ask her for her number after he rescued her and the baby, and praise her for keeping cool under pressure. Then he'd buy her pretty things.
But there were no pregnant women in the elevator at the moment, and definitely no hot firemen waiting outside. Just her. And Ryan.
Actually, she might have preferred the pregnant woman to Ryan, because she had no idea that boys from Chino freaked out. Well, she did, because Marissa told her that he did. But hearing and doing were totally different things.
Like, she was fine. In the approximately forty eight seconds since the hotel elevator had stopped (with them in it), Summer had calmly dug through her purse, located her cell phone beneath her pink and green makeup bag, discovered she apparently had forgotten to charge it the night before, yelled a few expletives and then stood, unmoving, with her hand on her hip, more befuddled and pissed than anything else.
Ryan? Was a different story.
He was sitting with his back to the corner of the wood and mirror paneled walls, shifting his jaw back and forth as his hands sought to bury themselves beneath the thin tan and burgundy carpet that covered the elevator floor.
Summer narrowed her eyes and finally turned to Ryan. "I thought you were only afraid of heights."
Ryan's eyes were blank and wide when he looked up at Summer, and a twinge not unlike an electrical pulse jolted her back to sympathy.
"Okay, okay, you're afraid of small spaces too." She moved from where she'd been standing next to the silver panel, pressing the red "call" button repeatedly, and slid to a seat next to Ryan, tucking her feet under legs.
"Actual small spaces, not poolhouse small spaces." Ryan cracked through tight lips.
Summer considered this. "Yep. Cohen would pretty much die if he were stuck in here. He would start talking, and *I* would probably have to kill him."
Ryan let out a strained laugh before falling into uneasy silence again.
Summer remembered what Marissa had said, about how she'd taken Ryan's mind off the heights in the Ferris wheel, and her eyes scanned Ryan's mouth, his set jaw.
He was different than Cohen, and belonged to Marissa in more ways than one.
But right then, in the tiny box of the stalled elevator, as Ryan’s hand sought out her leg and gripped her calf tightly, Summer knew there was a reason why she let her body fall into him in a drunken stupor, back before he was “Chino” and he was just a cute guy with mysterious eyes and killer arms.
The elevator miraculously hummed to a start again before she had time to consider what this meant. Ryan stood and lifted her with him as the numbers above the door lit and decreased, and she faltered a little under Ryan’s touch before finding her footing. And when the silver doors slid open and they stepped into the lobby, Summer wondered why it took until she was out of the elevator for her stomach to begin to flutter.
--finis--