The O.C. Fic: The Worst Chrismukkah Ever (2/4)
Title: The Worst Chrismukkah Ever
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating / Genre: PG-13+ / Gen / Chrismukkah (2)
Words: 2788
Spoilers: Season One & Two
Disclaimer: The O.C. is property of Fox.
Schmoopy Dedication: For emonerdgirl in response to the challenge she issued. In November. Whoops. Happy Chrismukkah!New Year!Birthday?!. Sorry it took so long and fret ye not, the rest is well under way.
Note: Thanks to Shelbecat who did a much needed proof read for me. The inevitably remaining mistakes are mine. Not quite the fluff of the first chapter, but that was the mandate, so there you go!
Summary: Ryan's homesick, Seth's just sick and Sandy and Kirsten are determined to look after them both. Multi-chapter, set around the second Cohen Chrismukkah, but not canon.
~~~
By the time the late afternoon of Chrismukkah Eve rolled around, it was clear to Ryan that his plan to ensure that the Cohens had a great Chrismukkah if it killed him might not only result in his death, but also several of his nearest and dearest. After been dragged along to the doctor's by Kirsten, Seth had been officially announced to be Sick with a capital S, having somehow managed to catch himself a chest infection when nobody had been looking. Although he had briefly delighted in brandishing antibiotics at Ryan as irrefutable proof of his manliness, Seth looked and felt worse than ever and had swiftly packed himself back off to bed with ne'er a complaint nor a whimper. Ryan on the other hand was feeling markedly better, especially considering the fact that he had begun his day by being puked on. The increased need for therapy and urge to shower every half-hour aside, he felt physically better than he had done for days. Now all that remained of his cold was the weird detached feeling as if he'd just been swimming in an over-heated pool and a few stubborn germs that flatly refused to relinquish their stronghold on Ryan's sneeze reflex.
But without Seth he was bored and the more bored he got, the more quiet thinking he did and that was never a good thing around the holidays. The Cohens could sense it and were trying to keep him entertained and peppy, secretly afraid that he might revert to brooding over the Ghosts of Christmas Past given half the chance, but Ryan being Ryan, he couldn't help but feel more than a little in the way, that he was keeping them from Seth. It was dumb, but Ryan's crack about his mother to Sandy in the kitchen had lodged itself so firmly in his brain, that he not only wished he hadn't said it, but also couldn’t stop thinking about her and was now developing nicely into a guilt complex of typically Atwoodic proportions. He was even finding himself wondering what his dad might be doing, something he hadn't done for a long time.
Chrismukkah Eve hadn't been all doom and gloom though, far from it. He'd gone for a walk with Sandy down to the beach and had thoroughly enjoyed hearing about his first Christmas time with Kirsten, when she had tried to make a proper Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. Determined to give him a feast to rival the Nana's with a Wasp-ish twist, she'd bought a turkey so big they didn’t get to eat any of it until ten in the evening and then ate almost nothing but turkey for a week and a half. Given his experience with the Cohens over the past couple of Thanksgivings, turkeys and Kirsten were clearly just not meant to be.
As nice as the walk had been, nicer still were the couple of hours when Lindsay stopped by. After watching Ryan's progressively kak-handed attempts to try and wrap Elmo, Kirsten had eventually taken pity on him and wrapped it for him. Naturally, Lindsay guessed straight away that this was not all his own work, but Ryan could have cared less as her face lit up in adorkably sexy delight at the little red monster. The necklace, just like her gift for him, was presented along with strict instructions that she had to wait until the day itself to open it up. Disappointingly, this firmly put the lid on Ryan's Lindsay-in-lingerie fantasies, but if they'd discovered one thing that afternoon, it was that they didn't need the right clothing to create the right mood, in fact they didn't need clothes at all. Ryan couldn't have wished for a better distraction. But unlike lamp oil, Ryan's good mood didn't have staying power, mystical or otherwise, and less than two hours after Lindsay left he was feeling more downcast than he had in months and it was clear that staring at the ceiling of the poolhouse was not going to cut it. This called for the big guns.
~~~
Ryan hovered outside Seth's door, listening for the sound of his soft snore that he'd had the delight of experiencing during his temporary residence on the floor last Summer. Hearing only the delightful death rattle that he'd finally shaken off himself, he knocked softly on Seth's door before pushing it open.
"Hey," he said as he padded self-consciously into the darkened room.
"Hey buddy," Seth replied, his voice thick and husky, "Lindsay gone?"
"Yeah. She says hi, hopes you feel better."
"I wish."
"That good, huh?"
"I swear Ryan, I haven't felt like this crappy since I was eleven and had the measles. You had it?"
"Nope."
"It sucks."
Ryan looked at the floor, feeling worse than ever. This was a bad idea. Here Seth was, feeling like crap, on Chrismukkah no less, and he'd come in hoping to be entertained. Because that wasn't at all selfish or Dawn-like, not at all.
"Sorry," Seth sighed as he burrowed himself deeper under the mass of blankets and pillows that enveloped him, "I'm moping."
"Don't worry about it. I know I was the same last week."
"No offence Ryan, but you've not exactly been a ray of sunshine since then either. I mean I know I threw up on you this morning- which, by the way, I can't say sorry enough for even thought the look on you face was classic- but you seem to be channeling Ryan Mark 1.0 and we're on to at least Ryan Mark 3.0 by now."
"You're delirious."
"You're brooding again, like Oliver brooding. Come on," Seth persisted, even as Ryan distractedly galloped Captain Oats across Seth's desk, "Share with me. Admit it, that's why you came in here, right?"
Ryan sighed, "I guess."
"Sit," Seth said, shifting in bed and moving his feet to make space for Ryan, "Tell me your pain."
Normally, Ryan would have run a mile to help Julie Cooper plan a Water Polo Team Appreciation Society Ball rather than sit down and have a Cosby-talk about anything with anyone. But right now, his self-destructive tendency to put up and shut up was beginning to irritate even him. If he couldn't mope his problems out then he may as well talk them out. There was something refreshingly blunt and yet sincerely heartfelt about Seth's brand of tact. And besides; Seth was right. Deep down, they both knew that a captive sounding board was exactly what Ryan had come looking for. Taking Captain Oats for company, he moved to the end of the bed and sat down.
And said nothing.
"Speak, friend," Seth prompted after a moment's silence, "Captain Oats is the only telepathic one."
"Right," said Ryan, turning the plastic horse over and over in his hands. Now that he had the opportunity, he wasn't sure where to start. He decided to keep it simple, "Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you'd stayed in Berkeley?"
"Are you kidding? All the time."
"Seriously?" Ryan said, surprised. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.
"Sure, man," Seth continued between sniffles, "Mostly when I was rinsing the pee out of my gym shoes."
Or not.
"I mean really wonder. Like what would your Mom and Dad be doing, would they have had any other kids, that kind of thing."
"Oh brother, you are brooding," Seth teased, before taking in the serious expression on Ryan's face. He actually looked like he might cry.
"Yeah, I wonder," he continued softly. "You know, Nana and Dad, they didn’t speak to each other for years."
"Really?"
"Yeah. They had this huge fight when Dad moved out. You know how stubborn us Cohens can be.
Ryan nodded, smiling to himself. Boy, did he.
"Then Nana Wasp got sick and we moved back here. Or you, know to here, for me. Nana Cohen came out here afterwards, to help out and stuff, while Dad got his law career off the ground and Mom bedded down with the Newport Group."
"Huh."
"The Cohen family history is a checkered one, Ryan. So I guess, if Nana Wasp had still been alive, I would have grown up a Berkeley boy instead of a Newport Nerd."
"You're not a nerd, "Ryan said reflexively.
"Sure I am," Seth rebuffed him casually, "I'm gangly, Jewish, I read comic books, I've got a guitar I can't play, a surfboard I don’t use and I talk to a plastic horse."
Ryan looked down at Captain Oats in his hands. Seth had a point. Still, there were worse things in life. Before he could reassure him that maybe being a Newport Nerd was no bad thing, Seth spoke again.
"What about your grandparents? You got any?"
"Not really," said Ryan, loosening up a little, "My Dad's dad walked out on him and his mom died before I was born so... My mom's parents are still alive, I think. I don't know, they never got along."
"You ever meet them?"
"My grandfather, once, he bought me a milkshake. I remember the milkshake more than him." Ryan looked over at Seth, and they shared the briefest of smiles. "It was Johnny Rocket's. Good milkshake."
"Johnny Rocket's rocks," Seth agreed, sitting up on his elbows to cough, "We should go sometime."
"Maybe. I always wanted my mom to get a job at one, so I could have as many milkshakes as I wanted. Never did, though."
Ryan's code deciphering itself before his eyes, Seth slipped his arm back into the warmth under the covers. Suddenly, the brooding, the extended hours in the poolhouse, the quietness around meal times, it all made sense. It wasn't just sickness that had kept him quiet, it was homesickness.
Not wanting to push the issue too much, he waited tactfully for a moment, before opting for the open-ended question. "Have you heard from her?"
"From Mom?" replied Ryan, noting and appreciating the escape hatch Seth had left him but deciding not use it, "No. Not for a while."
"When-"
"-Last Christmas," Ryan continued, cutting Seth off, "I thought maybe for my birthday, but I guess she forgot."
"I'm sure she didn't mean to," Seth said dumbly. Even during the wilderness years when birthdays had meant family dinners in lieu of any actual friends to attend parties, it never occurred to Seth that the day wouldn't at least be marked in some fashion.
"She never meant to. She just always messes up. I just thought she might call, that's all."
"Sorry, man. I don't know what to say."
"Yeah, well. There's not much you can say, really. Don't worry about it." Ryan handed Captain Oats back to his rightful owner, "Thanks for letting me talk at you."
"Hey, any time. Besides," Seth said taking his friend from his friend, "I do it to you 365, may as well get your money's worth while you can."
Ryan smiled briefly, filling Seth momentarily with a sense of relief. He'd joked about it earlier, but he hadn’t seen Ryan this downcast for a long time and he got the sense that there were still some troubles still lingering in the back of his brooding brother's mind. He could guess what. It was now or never.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah."
"Can I ask you something?
"Okay," Ryan replied knowing roughly where Seth was heading, even before he spoke.
"Tell me to get bent, but what you said last year, was it really like that?"
"Was what really like what?"
"Christmas. You said that your holiday memories consisted of your mom drunk and you getting your ass kicked. You know, before us."
Ryan looked up at Seth abruptly, blinking in surprise at Seth's question, taken aback not by the question itself, but by Seth's turn of phrase; he'd remembered the words exactly.
Seeing the hesitation in Ryan's eyes, Seth instantly regretted his boldness. "Sorry, it's none of my business."
"No, it's fine. It's just… Yeah, pretty much."
"You know, when you first got here; you completely held your own with the jocks and local inbreeds, more than held your own."
"Yeah, well, some of Mom's boyfriends had more practice than I did. Last one especially."
"Was that-"
"- A.J.? Yeah. Wasn't exactly what you'd call a family man. Did a lot of drugs. Also kind of big," Ryan commented matter-of factly, drawing his knees to his chest and rubbing his feet warm, "I hated him."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"- Seth, it's okay, really. It wasn't all the time and he never went after me with a wrench or anything. Besides, if he hadn’t have kicked me out, then I wouldn’t be here, so…"
"Every cloud, right?"
"Right."
"But you know, if he ever turned up round here, Grandpa Nichol could totally have him killed. I know you're not the old man's favorite grandson, but if he wants to keep the Newport Group a family business, then he's going to have to keep me sweet, you hear what I'm saying?"
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Ryan said, grinning at Seth's warm-hearted dorkiness. As much as he'd never thought he'd ever have, or wanted to have this particular conversation with Seth, he oddly glad they were. Sure, it was awkward, but that was partly because whatever else Seth felt about Ryan's pre-Newport life, it was clear that his curiosity came from a place of concern, rather than being merely idle.
"Mom and Dad; do they know?"
"Your dad does, I guess. I mean, he's never said anything, but when we first met back home, he had a file on me."
"Weird. Having your life documented like that. "
"I guess so."
"If I died of pneumonia tomorrow, there'd be nothing but a few tax receipts from summer jobs, but you, you exist. Like to other people; who don't know who you are. I'm not saying it’s a good thing or whatever, the reasons aren't good. But you know what I mean- there are people out there, apart from us guys, who care what happens to Ryan Atwood."
"I never really thought about it like that," said Ryan, mulling it over. It was kind of nice, albeit in a slightly twisted way.
"Maybe I should rent a few subversive books from the public library, get myself flagged by the FBI."
"You do that."
"Maybe me and Grandpa could end up sharing a cell together, rule the block, like George Clooney."
"Matching jumpsuits," Ryan said, laughing a little with Seth at the idea of it, "You could hook up with my dad and Trey, make it a family business."
"Do you miss him? You never talk about him."
"Trey?
"Your dad."
"Not much to talk about."
"When did he go away?"
"When I was six, nearly seven."
"I guess that means he'll be out soon," Seth replied without thinking, not noticing as Ryan flinched slightly. He was too distracted by the thought of not having grown up with his dad. The idea seemed too horrible.
"I guess, in a few years, maybe," Ryan thought aloud, "I hadn't really thought about it." He didn’t see the point in telling Seth he hadn't wanted to.
"You ever visit him?"
"No. My Dad? He's not like your Dad."
Seth looked over at Ryan, wanting to know more, but he could see by Ryan's shift in body language that the subject was closed and he suspected that further probing on his part might result in Ryan taking him up on his offer to tell him to get bent.
"I should go see if I can help out, " Ryan said standing up with an enthusiasm that Seth recognized as being not entirely genuine, "Your mom's probably half-way to a nervous breakdown by now."
"Definitely," Seth replied joining the pretence as he kicked his feet back down the bed, "And I'm expecting a feast tomorrow. After all, who knows how many more Chrismukkahs I have left?"
"Suck it up, Tiny Tim," Ryan teased, ignoring Seth's melodramatics.
"We are so watching A Muppet Christmas Carol tomorrow. I love that movie!"
"Count me in. You should sleep. Trust me."
"Always, do buddy."
With a wave, Ryan left the bedroom and pulled the door gently closed behind him. Alone once more, Seth snuggled down into the bed, his feet warming nicely in the spot where Ryan had been sitting. He was glad that Ryan had confided in him; he should get sick more often. Having gone from feeling like a useless phlegm-filled lump, he'd actually managed to get one of Orange County's most introspected citizens to talk through the crap that had clearly been bothering him and had sent him away smiling. Mission accomplished.
~~~
Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3, 4.
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating / Genre: PG-13+ / Gen / Chrismukkah (2)
Words: 2788
Spoilers: Season One & Two
Disclaimer: The O.C. is property of Fox.
Schmoopy Dedication: For emonerdgirl in response to the challenge she issued. In November. Whoops. Happy Chrismukkah!New Year!Birthday?!. Sorry it took so long and fret ye not, the rest is well under way.
Note: Thanks to Shelbecat who did a much needed proof read for me. The inevitably remaining mistakes are mine. Not quite the fluff of the first chapter, but that was the mandate, so there you go!
Summary: Ryan's homesick, Seth's just sick and Sandy and Kirsten are determined to look after them both. Multi-chapter, set around the second Cohen Chrismukkah, but not canon.
~~~
By the time the late afternoon of Chrismukkah Eve rolled around, it was clear to Ryan that his plan to ensure that the Cohens had a great Chrismukkah if it killed him might not only result in his death, but also several of his nearest and dearest. After been dragged along to the doctor's by Kirsten, Seth had been officially announced to be Sick with a capital S, having somehow managed to catch himself a chest infection when nobody had been looking. Although he had briefly delighted in brandishing antibiotics at Ryan as irrefutable proof of his manliness, Seth looked and felt worse than ever and had swiftly packed himself back off to bed with ne'er a complaint nor a whimper. Ryan on the other hand was feeling markedly better, especially considering the fact that he had begun his day by being puked on. The increased need for therapy and urge to shower every half-hour aside, he felt physically better than he had done for days. Now all that remained of his cold was the weird detached feeling as if he'd just been swimming in an over-heated pool and a few stubborn germs that flatly refused to relinquish their stronghold on Ryan's sneeze reflex.
But without Seth he was bored and the more bored he got, the more quiet thinking he did and that was never a good thing around the holidays. The Cohens could sense it and were trying to keep him entertained and peppy, secretly afraid that he might revert to brooding over the Ghosts of Christmas Past given half the chance, but Ryan being Ryan, he couldn't help but feel more than a little in the way, that he was keeping them from Seth. It was dumb, but Ryan's crack about his mother to Sandy in the kitchen had lodged itself so firmly in his brain, that he not only wished he hadn't said it, but also couldn’t stop thinking about her and was now developing nicely into a guilt complex of typically Atwoodic proportions. He was even finding himself wondering what his dad might be doing, something he hadn't done for a long time.
Chrismukkah Eve hadn't been all doom and gloom though, far from it. He'd gone for a walk with Sandy down to the beach and had thoroughly enjoyed hearing about his first Christmas time with Kirsten, when she had tried to make a proper Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. Determined to give him a feast to rival the Nana's with a Wasp-ish twist, she'd bought a turkey so big they didn’t get to eat any of it until ten in the evening and then ate almost nothing but turkey for a week and a half. Given his experience with the Cohens over the past couple of Thanksgivings, turkeys and Kirsten were clearly just not meant to be.
As nice as the walk had been, nicer still were the couple of hours when Lindsay stopped by. After watching Ryan's progressively kak-handed attempts to try and wrap Elmo, Kirsten had eventually taken pity on him and wrapped it for him. Naturally, Lindsay guessed straight away that this was not all his own work, but Ryan could have cared less as her face lit up in adorkably sexy delight at the little red monster. The necklace, just like her gift for him, was presented along with strict instructions that she had to wait until the day itself to open it up. Disappointingly, this firmly put the lid on Ryan's Lindsay-in-lingerie fantasies, but if they'd discovered one thing that afternoon, it was that they didn't need the right clothing to create the right mood, in fact they didn't need clothes at all. Ryan couldn't have wished for a better distraction. But unlike lamp oil, Ryan's good mood didn't have staying power, mystical or otherwise, and less than two hours after Lindsay left he was feeling more downcast than he had in months and it was clear that staring at the ceiling of the poolhouse was not going to cut it. This called for the big guns.
~~~
Ryan hovered outside Seth's door, listening for the sound of his soft snore that he'd had the delight of experiencing during his temporary residence on the floor last Summer. Hearing only the delightful death rattle that he'd finally shaken off himself, he knocked softly on Seth's door before pushing it open.
"Hey," he said as he padded self-consciously into the darkened room.
"Hey buddy," Seth replied, his voice thick and husky, "Lindsay gone?"
"Yeah. She says hi, hopes you feel better."
"I wish."
"That good, huh?"
"I swear Ryan, I haven't felt like this crappy since I was eleven and had the measles. You had it?"
"Nope."
"It sucks."
Ryan looked at the floor, feeling worse than ever. This was a bad idea. Here Seth was, feeling like crap, on Chrismukkah no less, and he'd come in hoping to be entertained. Because that wasn't at all selfish or Dawn-like, not at all.
"Sorry," Seth sighed as he burrowed himself deeper under the mass of blankets and pillows that enveloped him, "I'm moping."
"Don't worry about it. I know I was the same last week."
"No offence Ryan, but you've not exactly been a ray of sunshine since then either. I mean I know I threw up on you this morning- which, by the way, I can't say sorry enough for even thought the look on you face was classic- but you seem to be channeling Ryan Mark 1.0 and we're on to at least Ryan Mark 3.0 by now."
"You're delirious."
"You're brooding again, like Oliver brooding. Come on," Seth persisted, even as Ryan distractedly galloped Captain Oats across Seth's desk, "Share with me. Admit it, that's why you came in here, right?"
Ryan sighed, "I guess."
"Sit," Seth said, shifting in bed and moving his feet to make space for Ryan, "Tell me your pain."
Normally, Ryan would have run a mile to help Julie Cooper plan a Water Polo Team Appreciation Society Ball rather than sit down and have a Cosby-talk about anything with anyone. But right now, his self-destructive tendency to put up and shut up was beginning to irritate even him. If he couldn't mope his problems out then he may as well talk them out. There was something refreshingly blunt and yet sincerely heartfelt about Seth's brand of tact. And besides; Seth was right. Deep down, they both knew that a captive sounding board was exactly what Ryan had come looking for. Taking Captain Oats for company, he moved to the end of the bed and sat down.
And said nothing.
"Speak, friend," Seth prompted after a moment's silence, "Captain Oats is the only telepathic one."
"Right," said Ryan, turning the plastic horse over and over in his hands. Now that he had the opportunity, he wasn't sure where to start. He decided to keep it simple, "Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you'd stayed in Berkeley?"
"Are you kidding? All the time."
"Seriously?" Ryan said, surprised. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.
"Sure, man," Seth continued between sniffles, "Mostly when I was rinsing the pee out of my gym shoes."
Or not.
"I mean really wonder. Like what would your Mom and Dad be doing, would they have had any other kids, that kind of thing."
"Oh brother, you are brooding," Seth teased, before taking in the serious expression on Ryan's face. He actually looked like he might cry.
"Yeah, I wonder," he continued softly. "You know, Nana and Dad, they didn’t speak to each other for years."
"Really?"
"Yeah. They had this huge fight when Dad moved out. You know how stubborn us Cohens can be.
Ryan nodded, smiling to himself. Boy, did he.
"Then Nana Wasp got sick and we moved back here. Or you, know to here, for me. Nana Cohen came out here afterwards, to help out and stuff, while Dad got his law career off the ground and Mom bedded down with the Newport Group."
"Huh."
"The Cohen family history is a checkered one, Ryan. So I guess, if Nana Wasp had still been alive, I would have grown up a Berkeley boy instead of a Newport Nerd."
"You're not a nerd, "Ryan said reflexively.
"Sure I am," Seth rebuffed him casually, "I'm gangly, Jewish, I read comic books, I've got a guitar I can't play, a surfboard I don’t use and I talk to a plastic horse."
Ryan looked down at Captain Oats in his hands. Seth had a point. Still, there were worse things in life. Before he could reassure him that maybe being a Newport Nerd was no bad thing, Seth spoke again.
"What about your grandparents? You got any?"
"Not really," said Ryan, loosening up a little, "My Dad's dad walked out on him and his mom died before I was born so... My mom's parents are still alive, I think. I don't know, they never got along."
"You ever meet them?"
"My grandfather, once, he bought me a milkshake. I remember the milkshake more than him." Ryan looked over at Seth, and they shared the briefest of smiles. "It was Johnny Rocket's. Good milkshake."
"Johnny Rocket's rocks," Seth agreed, sitting up on his elbows to cough, "We should go sometime."
"Maybe. I always wanted my mom to get a job at one, so I could have as many milkshakes as I wanted. Never did, though."
Ryan's code deciphering itself before his eyes, Seth slipped his arm back into the warmth under the covers. Suddenly, the brooding, the extended hours in the poolhouse, the quietness around meal times, it all made sense. It wasn't just sickness that had kept him quiet, it was homesickness.
Not wanting to push the issue too much, he waited tactfully for a moment, before opting for the open-ended question. "Have you heard from her?"
"From Mom?" replied Ryan, noting and appreciating the escape hatch Seth had left him but deciding not use it, "No. Not for a while."
"When-"
"-Last Christmas," Ryan continued, cutting Seth off, "I thought maybe for my birthday, but I guess she forgot."
"I'm sure she didn't mean to," Seth said dumbly. Even during the wilderness years when birthdays had meant family dinners in lieu of any actual friends to attend parties, it never occurred to Seth that the day wouldn't at least be marked in some fashion.
"She never meant to. She just always messes up. I just thought she might call, that's all."
"Sorry, man. I don't know what to say."
"Yeah, well. There's not much you can say, really. Don't worry about it." Ryan handed Captain Oats back to his rightful owner, "Thanks for letting me talk at you."
"Hey, any time. Besides," Seth said taking his friend from his friend, "I do it to you 365, may as well get your money's worth while you can."
Ryan smiled briefly, filling Seth momentarily with a sense of relief. He'd joked about it earlier, but he hadn’t seen Ryan this downcast for a long time and he got the sense that there were still some troubles still lingering in the back of his brooding brother's mind. He could guess what. It was now or never.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah."
"Can I ask you something?
"Okay," Ryan replied knowing roughly where Seth was heading, even before he spoke.
"Tell me to get bent, but what you said last year, was it really like that?"
"Was what really like what?"
"Christmas. You said that your holiday memories consisted of your mom drunk and you getting your ass kicked. You know, before us."
Ryan looked up at Seth abruptly, blinking in surprise at Seth's question, taken aback not by the question itself, but by Seth's turn of phrase; he'd remembered the words exactly.
Seeing the hesitation in Ryan's eyes, Seth instantly regretted his boldness. "Sorry, it's none of my business."
"No, it's fine. It's just… Yeah, pretty much."
"You know, when you first got here; you completely held your own with the jocks and local inbreeds, more than held your own."
"Yeah, well, some of Mom's boyfriends had more practice than I did. Last one especially."
"Was that-"
"- A.J.? Yeah. Wasn't exactly what you'd call a family man. Did a lot of drugs. Also kind of big," Ryan commented matter-of factly, drawing his knees to his chest and rubbing his feet warm, "I hated him."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"- Seth, it's okay, really. It wasn't all the time and he never went after me with a wrench or anything. Besides, if he hadn’t have kicked me out, then I wouldn’t be here, so…"
"Every cloud, right?"
"Right."
"But you know, if he ever turned up round here, Grandpa Nichol could totally have him killed. I know you're not the old man's favorite grandson, but if he wants to keep the Newport Group a family business, then he's going to have to keep me sweet, you hear what I'm saying?"
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Ryan said, grinning at Seth's warm-hearted dorkiness. As much as he'd never thought he'd ever have, or wanted to have this particular conversation with Seth, he oddly glad they were. Sure, it was awkward, but that was partly because whatever else Seth felt about Ryan's pre-Newport life, it was clear that his curiosity came from a place of concern, rather than being merely idle.
"Mom and Dad; do they know?"
"Your dad does, I guess. I mean, he's never said anything, but when we first met back home, he had a file on me."
"Weird. Having your life documented like that. "
"I guess so."
"If I died of pneumonia tomorrow, there'd be nothing but a few tax receipts from summer jobs, but you, you exist. Like to other people; who don't know who you are. I'm not saying it’s a good thing or whatever, the reasons aren't good. But you know what I mean- there are people out there, apart from us guys, who care what happens to Ryan Atwood."
"I never really thought about it like that," said Ryan, mulling it over. It was kind of nice, albeit in a slightly twisted way.
"Maybe I should rent a few subversive books from the public library, get myself flagged by the FBI."
"You do that."
"Maybe me and Grandpa could end up sharing a cell together, rule the block, like George Clooney."
"Matching jumpsuits," Ryan said, laughing a little with Seth at the idea of it, "You could hook up with my dad and Trey, make it a family business."
"Do you miss him? You never talk about him."
"Trey?
"Your dad."
"Not much to talk about."
"When did he go away?"
"When I was six, nearly seven."
"I guess that means he'll be out soon," Seth replied without thinking, not noticing as Ryan flinched slightly. He was too distracted by the thought of not having grown up with his dad. The idea seemed too horrible.
"I guess, in a few years, maybe," Ryan thought aloud, "I hadn't really thought about it." He didn’t see the point in telling Seth he hadn't wanted to.
"You ever visit him?"
"No. My Dad? He's not like your Dad."
Seth looked over at Ryan, wanting to know more, but he could see by Ryan's shift in body language that the subject was closed and he suspected that further probing on his part might result in Ryan taking him up on his offer to tell him to get bent.
"I should go see if I can help out, " Ryan said standing up with an enthusiasm that Seth recognized as being not entirely genuine, "Your mom's probably half-way to a nervous breakdown by now."
"Definitely," Seth replied joining the pretence as he kicked his feet back down the bed, "And I'm expecting a feast tomorrow. After all, who knows how many more Chrismukkahs I have left?"
"Suck it up, Tiny Tim," Ryan teased, ignoring Seth's melodramatics.
"We are so watching A Muppet Christmas Carol tomorrow. I love that movie!"
"Count me in. You should sleep. Trust me."
"Always, do buddy."
With a wave, Ryan left the bedroom and pulled the door gently closed behind him. Alone once more, Seth snuggled down into the bed, his feet warming nicely in the spot where Ryan had been sitting. He was glad that Ryan had confided in him; he should get sick more often. Having gone from feeling like a useless phlegm-filled lump, he'd actually managed to get one of Orange County's most introspected citizens to talk through the crap that had clearly been bothering him and had sent him away smiling. Mission accomplished.
~~~
Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3, 4.