Pretty Things (The O.C., Marissa/Summer)
Title: Pretty Things
Author: dirty_diana
Recipient: trakkie
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Marissa/Summer
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers through 3:19 The Secrets and Lies. Beta love to skripka.
By the middle of the summer, Marissa is bored. Holly throws another party on another Wednesday night, and Summer drives them both over in her dad's Mercedes.
"What do you mean, bored?" Summer steps on the gas in Marissa's Jimmy Choo sandals, and Marissa toys with the lace on Summer's French Connection halter top that she's wearing, and shrugs. "You don't want to go back to school already, do you? Ew."
Marissa doesn't want to go back to school. She just wants to go somewhere new. Summer doesn't wait for an answer, only ejects Marissa's mix CD from the CD player and tunes in KIIS. She glances at the disc only briefly before tossing it into the glove compartment, making a face.
"Ugh. Coop, what are you listening to? It's loud."
"It's angry. I'm angry," Marissa says, and it comes out sounding lighter than she means it.
Summer smiles gently. "I'm angry. What is up with this traffic, Newport Beach?"
When Summer honks her horn, Marissa smiles back.
The party is a blur. Luke kisses her when he says hello, she'll remember that much, and he's warm and laughing and then he's gone, and Marissa pulls herself onto the kitchen counter, kicking off her sandals so that her bare feet dangle down.
"Hey, Coop." Summer tugs on her shirt, handing her another drink. "The party's over here."
Marissa shakes her head. Summer's daiquiris are way too strong, or just strong enough, and Marissa makes her way through four or five, or six or seven, before the room spins so hard that she slides off the kitchen counter, boneless.
"C'mon, Coop. We gotta go home."
Marissa doesn't want to get off the floor. Summer's not nearly strong enough to lift her, but she tries, and her skirt rides up against Marissa' back, and her hands are warm.
Summer lets out a small laugh, and Marissa laughs too, just to have something to smile about. "Seriously, Coop, it's late. Everyone else is going home."
Everyone else has a home to go to, Marissa thinks. When Summer gives up, laughing, she leans over Marissa with her hands on the floor. Marissa doesn't have to reach up that far to kiss her mouth. It's sticky and sweet like the lipgloss that she's wearing, and when her tongue meets Summer's, Summer's fingers tug briefly on her hand.
Summer giggles, and rocks back on her heels. "We are so drunk."
Marissa doesn't say anything, and she can trace the curves of Summer's fingers, as Summer lets go.
~~~
The summer that comes after is longer than the last one, and Summer tries to take her to the beach every day. Summer buys her strawberry milkshakes on the boardwalk, and tries to tell her that it wasn't ever going to work out anyway. Between her and Ryan.
"I'm over Ryan," Marissa says, and means it, the way that she means everything.
"Yeah, right," Summer says. "Just like I'm over Cohen."
"I thought said you were totally over him." The milkshake freezes Marissa fingers, and she thinks that no one will ever miss her for this long, for an entire summer break.
"I am so over Seth. I hope he stays in Tahiti forever. No, I hope he drowns. I hope his stupid boat sinks and he drowns." Summer scowls, or she smiles, and her eyes light up as she thinks of something new. "Want to go get manicures?"
~~~
When Marissa tells Summer about Alex, Summer pauses for a moment. For what seems like forever, with her glossy pink lips pressed together, and then she smiles.
Marissa would have understood if Summer had gotten mad. Summer hasn't been mad at her in years, not since that time in the fifth grade, but Summer is still the only girl Marissa could ever really stand. Before Alex, and maybe Marissa didn't like her that much after all.
~~~
Then the summer comes again, and her mom's lawyers all seemed to think she might actually have to go to jail. Sometimes Marissa worries about it, and lied when people asked her, but most of the time she didn't care either way. The gun had bucked hard when she'd fired, so hard that she had almost dropped it. Maybe she deserved to be in jail.
No one listens when she says that, though, so Marissa lies out in the sun on the terrace of Caleb's house, Caleb who never liked her and is gone now, like her dad.
Marissa is half-asleep when Summer comes over. She's got a long way to go until she's drunk, still, and the rest of the bottle hides in her Dooney and Burke, underneath the chair.
Summer leans over to kiss her cheek, Summer's mouth wrinkles at the smell, but she doesn't say anything. Just like she doesn't say anything when Marissa leaves her own chair to sit down beside her, and slides her fingers underneath the frayed denim hem of Summer's skirt.
"Wanna go to the beach?"
If she goes to the beach, to the mall, people will see her. The whole of Newport Beach will stare at her, the girl whose parents are always broke, the girl who hangs out with thugs, who might yet go to jail for shooting someone who totally deserved it.
Marissa works her hand up Summer's thigh, and shakes her head. Summer's gaze traces the tan lines left by Marissa's bikini straps, and their eyes don't meet.
"I don't want to go anywhere," Marissa says. "I want to stay here with you."
~~~
When Marissa and Summer fight in the school parking lot, Marissa can't figure out what she said wrong. Marissa can feel summer coming, in the days that are getting longer, and Marissa is bored already, of missing Johnny, of not thinking about Ryan, of fighting with Summer and hating everything. She wishes she was just a little drunker, drunk enough to put her hand between Summer's thighs and tell her that she's worrying about nothing.
But maybe sisters don't do that, maybe everything is changing now. Or maybe summer is coming, creeping in the way that it does every year, and nothing is changing at all.
~fin.
Author: dirty_diana
Recipient: trakkie
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Marissa/Summer
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers through 3:19 The Secrets and Lies. Beta love to skripka.
By the middle of the summer, Marissa is bored. Holly throws another party on another Wednesday night, and Summer drives them both over in her dad's Mercedes.
"What do you mean, bored?" Summer steps on the gas in Marissa's Jimmy Choo sandals, and Marissa toys with the lace on Summer's French Connection halter top that she's wearing, and shrugs. "You don't want to go back to school already, do you? Ew."
Marissa doesn't want to go back to school. She just wants to go somewhere new. Summer doesn't wait for an answer, only ejects Marissa's mix CD from the CD player and tunes in KIIS. She glances at the disc only briefly before tossing it into the glove compartment, making a face.
"Ugh. Coop, what are you listening to? It's loud."
"It's angry. I'm angry," Marissa says, and it comes out sounding lighter than she means it.
Summer smiles gently. "I'm angry. What is up with this traffic, Newport Beach?"
When Summer honks her horn, Marissa smiles back.
The party is a blur. Luke kisses her when he says hello, she'll remember that much, and he's warm and laughing and then he's gone, and Marissa pulls herself onto the kitchen counter, kicking off her sandals so that her bare feet dangle down.
"Hey, Coop." Summer tugs on her shirt, handing her another drink. "The party's over here."
Marissa shakes her head. Summer's daiquiris are way too strong, or just strong enough, and Marissa makes her way through four or five, or six or seven, before the room spins so hard that she slides off the kitchen counter, boneless.
"C'mon, Coop. We gotta go home."
Marissa doesn't want to get off the floor. Summer's not nearly strong enough to lift her, but she tries, and her skirt rides up against Marissa' back, and her hands are warm.
Summer lets out a small laugh, and Marissa laughs too, just to have something to smile about. "Seriously, Coop, it's late. Everyone else is going home."
Everyone else has a home to go to, Marissa thinks. When Summer gives up, laughing, she leans over Marissa with her hands on the floor. Marissa doesn't have to reach up that far to kiss her mouth. It's sticky and sweet like the lipgloss that she's wearing, and when her tongue meets Summer's, Summer's fingers tug briefly on her hand.
Summer giggles, and rocks back on her heels. "We are so drunk."
Marissa doesn't say anything, and she can trace the curves of Summer's fingers, as Summer lets go.
~~~
The summer that comes after is longer than the last one, and Summer tries to take her to the beach every day. Summer buys her strawberry milkshakes on the boardwalk, and tries to tell her that it wasn't ever going to work out anyway. Between her and Ryan.
"I'm over Ryan," Marissa says, and means it, the way that she means everything.
"Yeah, right," Summer says. "Just like I'm over Cohen."
"I thought said you were totally over him." The milkshake freezes Marissa fingers, and she thinks that no one will ever miss her for this long, for an entire summer break.
"I am so over Seth. I hope he stays in Tahiti forever. No, I hope he drowns. I hope his stupid boat sinks and he drowns." Summer scowls, or she smiles, and her eyes light up as she thinks of something new. "Want to go get manicures?"
~~~
When Marissa tells Summer about Alex, Summer pauses for a moment. For what seems like forever, with her glossy pink lips pressed together, and then she smiles.
Marissa would have understood if Summer had gotten mad. Summer hasn't been mad at her in years, not since that time in the fifth grade, but Summer is still the only girl Marissa could ever really stand. Before Alex, and maybe Marissa didn't like her that much after all.
~~~
Then the summer comes again, and her mom's lawyers all seemed to think she might actually have to go to jail. Sometimes Marissa worries about it, and lied when people asked her, but most of the time she didn't care either way. The gun had bucked hard when she'd fired, so hard that she had almost dropped it. Maybe she deserved to be in jail.
No one listens when she says that, though, so Marissa lies out in the sun on the terrace of Caleb's house, Caleb who never liked her and is gone now, like her dad.
Marissa is half-asleep when Summer comes over. She's got a long way to go until she's drunk, still, and the rest of the bottle hides in her Dooney and Burke, underneath the chair.
Summer leans over to kiss her cheek, Summer's mouth wrinkles at the smell, but she doesn't say anything. Just like she doesn't say anything when Marissa leaves her own chair to sit down beside her, and slides her fingers underneath the frayed denim hem of Summer's skirt.
"Wanna go to the beach?"
If she goes to the beach, to the mall, people will see her. The whole of Newport Beach will stare at her, the girl whose parents are always broke, the girl who hangs out with thugs, who might yet go to jail for shooting someone who totally deserved it.
Marissa works her hand up Summer's thigh, and shakes her head. Summer's gaze traces the tan lines left by Marissa's bikini straps, and their eyes don't meet.
"I don't want to go anywhere," Marissa says. "I want to stay here with you."
~~~
When Marissa and Summer fight in the school parking lot, Marissa can't figure out what she said wrong. Marissa can feel summer coming, in the days that are getting longer, and Marissa is bored already, of missing Johnny, of not thinking about Ryan, of fighting with Summer and hating everything. She wishes she was just a little drunker, drunk enough to put her hand between Summer's thighs and tell her that she's worrying about nothing.
But maybe sisters don't do that, maybe everything is changing now. Or maybe summer is coming, creeping in the way that it does every year, and nothing is changing at all.
~fin.