The Break [The OC; Ryan/Kirsten]
TITLE: The Break
CHAPTER 8
FANDOM: The OC
PAIRING: Ryan/Kirsten
SPOILERS: Through "The College Try"
RATING: PG
SUMMARY:
*****
When Ryan awoke, he almost had an overwhelming sense of deja-vu: The sunlight streaming in through the curtains, the warm body pressed against him. Only this time, he and Kirsten were on their sides, and Kirsten had somehow turned herself around in his arms so they now lay facing each other. Her face, as usual, was buried in his neck, and her arms were curled in between their bodies. Ryan didn't want to move.
But he had to. It was yet another Saturday, and he knew they had work to do. They had discussed going to the hardware store today for paint and painting supplies -- Kirsten wanted some color in their condo, other than the stark white on the walls.
Ryan sighed. He really had to move. Especially now that Kirsten was starting to squirm against him in her sleep. His body was responding in ways he wasn't ready to deal with yet. He gently rolled her away from him and got up, heading for the bathroom in a sudden need for a cold shower. When he emerged ten minutes later, he could hear Kirsten in the kitchen downstairs -- glasses and plates were clanking together, and for a moment he was alarmed by the thought that she might be cooking.
After dressing in a faded pair of jeans and a plain gray tee shirt, he bounded down the stairs, calling out her name. When she didn't answer, he made a beeline for the kitchen and found her frowning down at a skillet on the stove. "What are you doing?" he asked.
She jumped, startled by his presence, and then gave a bashful smile. Without her makeup on and her hair done, Ryan thought she couldn't have been more stunning. He wondered if he'd ever get to tell her.
"I was going to try to make scrambled eggs, but um..."
He grinned knowingly and made his way further into the kitchen. "Not going very well?"
"No. When you're melting butter, how do you know when it's done?"
Ryan leaned around her, peering down into the pan. He clucked his tongue slightly. "Well, it's done about two minutes before it looks like that."
Kirsten groaned and dumped the pan in the sink. "Oh, forget it."
He chuckled and ushered her toward the other side of the counter. He smiled at her as she took a seat on one of the barstools, still looking thoroughly disappointed about the butter incident. "How about I make the eggs this time? I'll let you watch."
Kirsten finally smiled. "That will probably work a lot better."
A companionable silence fell over them as he cooked their breakfast, feeling her eyes on him the entire time. He couldn't ascertain whether or not she was actually watching his cooking technique, however. They exchanged little grins and looks along the way, and Ryan had to wonder how she was feeling about their relationship today... and whether or not she remembered they shared a bed lastnight.
"So..." He divided up the eggs between their two plates. Sliding one toward Kirsten, he asked, "How did you sleep last night?"
She gave him another little grin, one which Ryan could only describe as 'sexy,' and replied, "Unbelievably well, thank you."
He grinned right back and picked up his fork, beginning to eat. "I'm glad."
"How about you?" Kirsten stabbed at her eggs with her own fork, bringing it to her lips. "Sleep well?"
"Extremely well, yes."
They ate in silence, exchanging more grins and looks over their plates. Ryan again wondered what she was thinking and feeling... and whether or not he should broach the subject. "Kirsten, maybe we should talk about--"
A knock on the door halted him mid-sentence, and he and Kirsten exchanged puzzled glances briefly before she went to answer it. Ryan sighed, resolving that the conversation would have to wait, and deposited their empty plates in the sink.
"Sandy!"
Ryan heard the surprise in her tone and went to meet her at the door, standing side-by-side with her as Sandy Cohen entered the condo.
He nodded friendly greetings at them both. "Morning to you both." Then, looking down at the box he held in his arms, he enquired, "Is there someplace I can set this down? It's kinda heavy."
"Sure, sure." Kirsten gestured toward the couch and both she and Ryan watched him drop the box onto the cushions. "What is that?"
"Uh, about forty pounds-worth of shoes you left in the closet," Sandy replied with a grin.
Kirsten smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Don't be." He took a look around. "Nice place you got here. Wall color's not really your taste, but I'm sure you're doing something about that soon, aren'tcha?"
Ryan watched Kirsten smile at her estranged husband brightly. "Yes. As soon as possible."
Sandy then looked to Ryan, almost sternly. "Still takin' care of her?"
Ryan nodded, hoping his face wasn't flushed as he thought back to how he'd awoke that morning. "Absolutely."
"Good."
Kirsten's voice was soft, hesitant almost as she asked, "How's Seth?"
"Ah, not great." Sandy raked a hand through his graying jet black hair. "Barely says two words to me."
She sighed. "He's still mad."
"Oh, sure, you know our son. But I think, more than anything, he's mad at me. He knows I'm the cause of all this trouble, so for right now, he wants nothing to do with me."
"He'll come around," Ryan once again assured them. "He's Seth. Brooding's not really his thing."
Kirsten smirked at him while Sandy chuckled. "You're right. You're the broody one."
Sandy glanced between the two of them. "So what are you two doing on this fine Saturday?"
Kirsten smiled and made a sweeping gesture toward the living room. "We're painting the condo. It's too white in here."
"I knew it," he chuckled again. "Well, I'll get out of your way. You two have fun."
"Thanks for stopping by, Sandy," Kirsten smiled, and for a moment Ryan thought the awkwardness between the two of them was downright stifling. It was odd watching two people, who at one time were always so in sync with each other, be so out of balance with one another now.
Sandy nodded and waved goodbye to them both. Kirsten shut the door after him and turned to Ryan, lifting her eyebrows as she asked, "Any chance you want to carry all my shoes up the stairs?"
Ryan chuckled and shook his head, but grabbed the box anyway and did as she bade.
*****
Two hours later, Ryan and Kirsten were painting the walls of their condo, each on separate sides of the room, while the stereo played some of Kirsten's favorite music. Currently, "Bennie and the Jets" was filling the room... as were paint fumes. Ryan smiled while gliding the roller up and down the wall, listening to Kirsten softly singing along (and missing many of the words as she did so). "Hey Kirsten, I think I'm almost finished with my side. You need help with yours?"
"No, I got it," Kirsten responded, concentrating on carefully painting where the wall met the ceiling. She was perched on a ladder, leaning over to get a better look at what she was doing, and Ryan allowed himself a split second to enjoy the view before he went over to her.
"Here, I can take your paint can if you're almost done."
"Sure, here." She went to hand it to him and it slipped from her grasp, spilling pastel blue paint all over his shirt. "Shoot! Ryan..." Kirsten, startled, reached out to him only to forget she was standing feet above him on a ladder. "Whoa!"
Ryan, luckily, caught her effortlessly, one arm catching her under her knees and the other around her waist. He let her down gently and she landed on her feet gracefully, like a ballerina after completing a lift. However, this left them both covered in paint. They pulled away and chuckled at their predicament, Kirsten closing her eyes self-deprecatingly. "Oh God, Ryan, I am so sorry."
He laughed, "It's okay," and without a second thought, he pulled his paint-covered shirt over his head. "I'm just glad we put the tarp down to cover the floor."
He didn't realize what he'd done until he had tossed the shirt aside and looked at Kirsten, whose eyes were cemented on him. He looked down, his face growing hot. That look in her eyes.... "Um, I should go change."
Kirsten nodded, a bit too emphatically. "Yeah, okay sure." And was it his imagination, or... was her voice shaking?
Ryan trudged up the steps, eyes closed painfully as he damned himself for forcing the tension up several notches. When would it end?
TBC
{x-posted to rystenlove}
CHAPTER 8
FANDOM: The OC
PAIRING: Ryan/Kirsten
SPOILERS: Through "The College Try"
RATING: PG
SUMMARY:
*****
When Ryan awoke, he almost had an overwhelming sense of deja-vu: The sunlight streaming in through the curtains, the warm body pressed against him. Only this time, he and Kirsten were on their sides, and Kirsten had somehow turned herself around in his arms so they now lay facing each other. Her face, as usual, was buried in his neck, and her arms were curled in between their bodies. Ryan didn't want to move.
But he had to. It was yet another Saturday, and he knew they had work to do. They had discussed going to the hardware store today for paint and painting supplies -- Kirsten wanted some color in their condo, other than the stark white on the walls.
Ryan sighed. He really had to move. Especially now that Kirsten was starting to squirm against him in her sleep. His body was responding in ways he wasn't ready to deal with yet. He gently rolled her away from him and got up, heading for the bathroom in a sudden need for a cold shower. When he emerged ten minutes later, he could hear Kirsten in the kitchen downstairs -- glasses and plates were clanking together, and for a moment he was alarmed by the thought that she might be cooking.
After dressing in a faded pair of jeans and a plain gray tee shirt, he bounded down the stairs, calling out her name. When she didn't answer, he made a beeline for the kitchen and found her frowning down at a skillet on the stove. "What are you doing?" he asked.
She jumped, startled by his presence, and then gave a bashful smile. Without her makeup on and her hair done, Ryan thought she couldn't have been more stunning. He wondered if he'd ever get to tell her.
"I was going to try to make scrambled eggs, but um..."
He grinned knowingly and made his way further into the kitchen. "Not going very well?"
"No. When you're melting butter, how do you know when it's done?"
Ryan leaned around her, peering down into the pan. He clucked his tongue slightly. "Well, it's done about two minutes before it looks like that."
Kirsten groaned and dumped the pan in the sink. "Oh, forget it."
He chuckled and ushered her toward the other side of the counter. He smiled at her as she took a seat on one of the barstools, still looking thoroughly disappointed about the butter incident. "How about I make the eggs this time? I'll let you watch."
Kirsten finally smiled. "That will probably work a lot better."
A companionable silence fell over them as he cooked their breakfast, feeling her eyes on him the entire time. He couldn't ascertain whether or not she was actually watching his cooking technique, however. They exchanged little grins and looks along the way, and Ryan had to wonder how she was feeling about their relationship today... and whether or not she remembered they shared a bed lastnight.
"So..." He divided up the eggs between their two plates. Sliding one toward Kirsten, he asked, "How did you sleep last night?"
She gave him another little grin, one which Ryan could only describe as 'sexy,' and replied, "Unbelievably well, thank you."
He grinned right back and picked up his fork, beginning to eat. "I'm glad."
"How about you?" Kirsten stabbed at her eggs with her own fork, bringing it to her lips. "Sleep well?"
"Extremely well, yes."
They ate in silence, exchanging more grins and looks over their plates. Ryan again wondered what she was thinking and feeling... and whether or not he should broach the subject. "Kirsten, maybe we should talk about--"
A knock on the door halted him mid-sentence, and he and Kirsten exchanged puzzled glances briefly before she went to answer it. Ryan sighed, resolving that the conversation would have to wait, and deposited their empty plates in the sink.
"Sandy!"
Ryan heard the surprise in her tone and went to meet her at the door, standing side-by-side with her as Sandy Cohen entered the condo.
He nodded friendly greetings at them both. "Morning to you both." Then, looking down at the box he held in his arms, he enquired, "Is there someplace I can set this down? It's kinda heavy."
"Sure, sure." Kirsten gestured toward the couch and both she and Ryan watched him drop the box onto the cushions. "What is that?"
"Uh, about forty pounds-worth of shoes you left in the closet," Sandy replied with a grin.
Kirsten smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Don't be." He took a look around. "Nice place you got here. Wall color's not really your taste, but I'm sure you're doing something about that soon, aren'tcha?"
Ryan watched Kirsten smile at her estranged husband brightly. "Yes. As soon as possible."
Sandy then looked to Ryan, almost sternly. "Still takin' care of her?"
Ryan nodded, hoping his face wasn't flushed as he thought back to how he'd awoke that morning. "Absolutely."
"Good."
Kirsten's voice was soft, hesitant almost as she asked, "How's Seth?"
"Ah, not great." Sandy raked a hand through his graying jet black hair. "Barely says two words to me."
She sighed. "He's still mad."
"Oh, sure, you know our son. But I think, more than anything, he's mad at me. He knows I'm the cause of all this trouble, so for right now, he wants nothing to do with me."
"He'll come around," Ryan once again assured them. "He's Seth. Brooding's not really his thing."
Kirsten smirked at him while Sandy chuckled. "You're right. You're the broody one."
Sandy glanced between the two of them. "So what are you two doing on this fine Saturday?"
Kirsten smiled and made a sweeping gesture toward the living room. "We're painting the condo. It's too white in here."
"I knew it," he chuckled again. "Well, I'll get out of your way. You two have fun."
"Thanks for stopping by, Sandy," Kirsten smiled, and for a moment Ryan thought the awkwardness between the two of them was downright stifling. It was odd watching two people, who at one time were always so in sync with each other, be so out of balance with one another now.
Sandy nodded and waved goodbye to them both. Kirsten shut the door after him and turned to Ryan, lifting her eyebrows as she asked, "Any chance you want to carry all my shoes up the stairs?"
Ryan chuckled and shook his head, but grabbed the box anyway and did as she bade.
*****
Two hours later, Ryan and Kirsten were painting the walls of their condo, each on separate sides of the room, while the stereo played some of Kirsten's favorite music. Currently, "Bennie and the Jets" was filling the room... as were paint fumes. Ryan smiled while gliding the roller up and down the wall, listening to Kirsten softly singing along (and missing many of the words as she did so). "Hey Kirsten, I think I'm almost finished with my side. You need help with yours?"
"No, I got it," Kirsten responded, concentrating on carefully painting where the wall met the ceiling. She was perched on a ladder, leaning over to get a better look at what she was doing, and Ryan allowed himself a split second to enjoy the view before he went over to her.
"Here, I can take your paint can if you're almost done."
"Sure, here." She went to hand it to him and it slipped from her grasp, spilling pastel blue paint all over his shirt. "Shoot! Ryan..." Kirsten, startled, reached out to him only to forget she was standing feet above him on a ladder. "Whoa!"
Ryan, luckily, caught her effortlessly, one arm catching her under her knees and the other around her waist. He let her down gently and she landed on her feet gracefully, like a ballerina after completing a lift. However, this left them both covered in paint. They pulled away and chuckled at their predicament, Kirsten closing her eyes self-deprecatingly. "Oh God, Ryan, I am so sorry."
He laughed, "It's okay," and without a second thought, he pulled his paint-covered shirt over his head. "I'm just glad we put the tarp down to cover the floor."
He didn't realize what he'd done until he had tossed the shirt aside and looked at Kirsten, whose eyes were cemented on him. He looked down, his face growing hot. That look in her eyes.... "Um, I should go change."
Kirsten nodded, a bit too emphatically. "Yeah, okay sure." And was it his imagination, or... was her voice shaking?
Ryan trudged up the steps, eyes closed painfully as he damned himself for forcing the tension up several notches. When would it end?
TBC
{x-posted to rystenlove}