Fic: Give it Away (The OC)
Ryan isn’t stupid. Okay, he’s done stupid things. Getting into a stolen car with the flashing red and blue of the Chino police already turning onto the street, closing in? May have been stupid, he can admit that.
He’s smart enough to know, though, that every good thing has a price and nobody does a boy like him any favors without asking for something in return. The world just works like that.
His public defender taking Ryan’s case? The man was just doing his job, but nobody pays him to give Ryan his home phone number. Nobody pays him to say “If you need anything, call me.”
When Ryan’s mom’s new boyfriend kicks his ass and she throws him out of the house he calls everybody he knows first. Everybody.
Sandy Cohen is the one who comes through for him when he finally gets to the number penned on the back of that crisp ivory card. Shows up in a car so shiny and clean and new that the people on the street probably think he’s a drug dealer. He shows up and he helps Ryan put his bike in the trunk and doesn’t rub it in how much Ryan owes him for this.
Ryan expects to start paying on the drive from Chino to Newport Beach. A quick stop behind a 7-11, maybe half an hour in some seedy motel.
Sandy just drives straight through. Telling Ryan about his day and his wife and his kid to push down the silence in the car. Ryan wishes he knew what to say in the pauses between Sandy’s little stories but words were never his strength.
The scenery improves with every mile. Cracked sidewalks and graffiti covered walls are left behind and they drive into a gated community and up to a house as bright and fake as Disneyland. Sandy’s wife is blonde and pretty and she looks pained to have Ryan in her home. Sandy apologizes as he gets Ryan settled into the pool house but he leaves again and Ryan isn’t sure what he was sorry about.
The sheets are the whitest thing Ryan’s ever seen and he lies on top of them all night waiting for the door to open again.
Morning comes and still Sandy hasn’t come for him so he heads up to the house. He meets Seth there, the son Sandy talked about with such warmth in the car. He expects to hate him, spoiled rich kid, but Seth’s funny and sarcastic and he seems to have no filter between his brain and his mouth and nobody has ever made Ryan feel more welcome in his life.
That night Ryan’s getting dressed for some charity thing that he got invited to and didn’t know how to say no to when Sandy knocks on the glass of the pool house door and lets himself in.
Ryan knows it’s time. Him and Sandy alone, Sandy complimenting his looks, turning him to fuss with his tie.
Ryan can feel himself shaking, a trembling in his chest, a wavering in his knees. He’s always fought before--never won but always tried, always made them prove that it was something taken from him, not something he gave away. They might have called him a slut or a whore but his blood on his skin let him know they lied, let him know for sure. AJ’s fist on his face or Carl’s belt buckle on his back, he made them work for it every time.
A sick part of him wonders if it was just because they didn’t have enough to offer, and this--the promise of a family, of clean sheets and welcoming smiles, soft words and never being hungry--surely this is worth whatever it costs.
Sandy’s finger slide the knot of the tie up under Ryan’s jaw and Ryan knows Sandy will never hit him to get what he wants. That makes it so much easier and so much harder.
“Bend,” Ryan tells his knees and they do and he goes down harder he more awkward for not being forced.
His fingers are clumsy on the catch of Sandy’s fancy slacks and he hasn’t even gotten to the zipper when Sandy recovers.
“Wait. Ryan, what?” he steps away and fumbles his pants closed again and Ryan waits for the harsh words, whore, slut, faggot or the back of Sandy’s hand. He isn’t expecting Sandy’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him up from his knees, pulling him in. The hug is tight enough to make his ribs creak. He shudders but doesn’t cry. Won’t cry. Can’t.
“Never again,” Sandy says. “You don’t have to do that ever again. Do you understand?”
Ryan nods against Sandy’s shoulder. He understands.
But if Sandy asked? He would. He’d give it away.