Disclaimer: The OC is owned by people with much more money than myself.
Author's note: (Red lights flashing...warning...warning...warning. There be candy ahead. Lots and lots of candy, guaranteed to rot your eyes as you read it. This is pointless shenanigans. And there are 4 chapters of it, which means it is sequential, pointless candy. I needed a break from my angst. The follow-up to Thursday Afternoon is coming, I promise. This is just a diversion.)
This story takes place after The Debut and before the finale. How's that for giving myself some wiggle room.
Liz the beta...thanks.
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A Small Favor
Chapter One
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Seth flies out the back door of his home with amazing agility for a skinny white boy. His destination, the pool house, is a mere few yards away. He skids to a stop, swings open the unlocked pool house door and is greeted by a wide-eyed Ryan walking out of the bathroom.
"Seth?" Ryan asks questioningly.
The phone rings.
Seth frantically turns his head towards the noise, then looks back at Ryan wild eyed.
Ryan advances towards the phone and Seth holds out his hands.
"No! Ryan! Stop! Don't answer that. Let's go, we have to get out of here."
The phone rings again.
Ryan takes another step closer to the phone; Seth takes another step closer to Ryan.
The phone rings a third time.
"Ryan, dude, please, do not answer that phone," Seth begs.
A fourth ring.
"Seth?" Ryan's question drips of amusement and confusion.
Silence.
The answering machine picks up.
Ryan's recorded voice fills the pool house, "I'm not here, leave a message."
A beep, followed by, "Ryan? It's Kirsten. If you're there, can you pick up please? I need a favor."
Ryan moves swiftly to the phone, reaches for the receiver.
"Ryan? I was hoping you were there. Are you there? Please pick up." Kirsten sounds rushed, panicky. There's no way Ryan can blow her off.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," Seth pleads.
Ryan ignores him and picks up the receiver anyway.
Kirsten relief is immediately evident, "Oh Ryan, thank God I got a hold of you. I need a small favor."
Seth throws himself down on Ryan's bed, his face in his hands, his head shaking back and forth. Ryan rolls his eyes at the dramatic display and continues to listen to his foster mother.
"Ryan? You're there right?"
"Yeah," he has to look away from Seth or there is no way he's going to be able to concentrate on a single thing Kirsten is saying.
"I goofed up Ryan. I let a conference call go on too long and now there's an accident on the 55."
Ryan remains silent, waiting for her to continue.
"And I have to host the Newpsies get-together this afternoon. They're going to be at the house in ten minutes Ryan. I just ran to the grocery store, everything's in my car. I don't even have anything in the fridge for you to put out for them."
She has got to be kidding, Ryan thinks to himself. He has never seen a refrigerator more stocked than the Cohen's. He's not even sure if there is an actual back wall to it.
"I thought I could make it, but with the accident..." Kirsten is rambling now. Ryan interrupts her.
"Hey, it's cool." He looks over at Seth who has given up on the bed theatrics and is standing again, concentrating intently on what Ryan is saying, his arms crossed tightly around his chest. "Seth and I will take care of it."
Seth reacts to Ryan's words, jumps up and down, shifts his hands back and forth, and mouths 'No,' again and again.
"Ryan, I don't know how to thank you!" Kirsten enthuses.
Ryan blushes inwardly. She doesn't know how to thank him? Talk about a ludicrous role reversal.
"Uh, what should we do?" Ryan asks, unsure of what he has just gotten himself into.
"Just...have them sit down and explain to them I'm stuck in traffic, I should be there in twenty minutes, half an hour tops. Really Ryan, thanks so much."
"It's no problem Kirsten," Ryan assures her, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.
"Oh and Ryan?" Kirsten adds. "Tell Seth he is so very grounded when I get home. I know damn well my cell phone was not breaking up when he hung up on me."
Ryan glances at Seth. The youngest Cohen is attempting a hasty retreat from the pool house.
"I gotta go now," Ryan tells Kirsten, and hangs up the phone. "Seth!" he barks out.
"It's every man for himself," Seth advises Ryan as he reaches for the doorknob, begins to turn it.
"Seth!" Ryan raises his voice.
"I told you not to answer the phone," Seth turns around and whines at Ryan. "Why did you answer the phone?"
"You hung up on Kirsten?" Ryan states bluntly.
"Self-preservation Ryan," Seth shoots back. "It wouldn't hurt you to get some."
Ryan stomps over to Seth, grabs him by the forearm, and steers the smaller boy out the door. "Come on, I'm not doing this alone. Let's go."
"Ow," Seth complains, tries to break loose. Ryan maintains his strong hold until the duo reaches the main house. He lets loose of his foster brother once they enter the kitchen.
Seth begins rummaging through a utensil draw; he emerges brandishing a huge knife.
"What are you doing?" Ryan asks incredulously.
"Arming myself," Seth answers as he grabs a large pan lid and holds it out in front of himself like a shield.
"You're being ridiculous," Ryan dismisses him. "Get a grip."
The doorbell rings and Seth's body goes rigid. He turns to Ryan with fear in his eyes. "Oh God Ryan, they're here. Nothing can save us now. We're doomed."
Ryan walks over to Seth and grabs the knife from him. "You're certifiable," he tells Seth as he puts the sharp blade back in the drawer.
The doorbell rings again.
"They won't go away." Seth says in a small voice. "They'll just keep ringing and ringing."
Ryan shakes his head at him and slowly shuffles to the front door. The doorbell rings a third time and he answers it. A petite woman most likely in her forties stands front and center, two other women behind her.
"Well hello," she purrs at Ryan. "I'm Monica Standish. Kirsten is expecting us?"
"Um, yeah," Ryan stands aside, invites the women in with a shy gesture of his hand. "She's uh, running a little late. Would you like to come in and have a seat? She should... she'll be here pretty soon."
"Well aren't you adorable," Monica remarks, patting Ryan on the head as she walks by.
Ryan freezes under her hand and doesn't relax until she breaks the contact. Another car pulls up, and three more women make their way to the door Ryan is holding open.
"We're in here girls," Ryan hears Monica call out. "Kirsten's running late."
Ryan gives one last peek at the driveway before he closes the front door. Gingerly walking into the living room, he stops dead in his tracks as all six women stare at him in unison.
Ryan slides his hands nervously down the sides of his jeans. Suddenly his throat is dryer than a desert. He wonders if the women would notice if he snuck off for a glass of water.
Water...drinks.
"Could I uh..." Ryan falters. "Would..." He makes eye contact with one of the less intimidating looking women. "Are you thirsty?" He fumbles.
"Dying of!" Monica reacts from across the room. "Do you have any orange juice?" She poses demurely.
Ryan nods.
"Oh, be an absolute dear and get us some, will you honey?"
Ryan nods again, and turns to exit the living room. As he enters the kitchen, he hears Monica add, "And some vodka darling. Don't forget the vodka."
Ryan grimaces and walks over to the pantry where Sandy and Kirsten keep the more mundane alcohol. Seth is sitting at the breakfast bar eating a bowl of cereal. Ryan throws him a disgusted look.
"These are trying times Ryan," Seth informs his foster brother. "I'm keeping my strength up."
Ryan doesn't comment. He retrieves the vodka from the cabinet, reaches over for Seth's bowl, snatches it out from under him and slams the dish into the sink.
Seth holds a spoonful of cereal under his open mouth
"Ryan...I was eating that."
"Well now you're not," Ryan snaps. He points at the china hutch which contains the highball glasses, commands Seth, "Glasses, now."
Seth places his spoon on the kitchen counter, stands up and swirls his finger in the direction of the vodka bottle.
"Whatcha got going there Ryan?"
"We," Ryan enunciates slowly, "Are making them," he tilts the bottle towards the living room, "Screwdrivers."
Seth cocks his head. "Do you think that's a wise move big guy, seeing as how WE aren't even allowed to touch THAT?" He points to the vodka.
Ryan struggles to open the still sealed bottle. He lifts his head and glances up at Seth with annoyance. "Do you have a better idea?"
Seth shrugs, concedes Ryan's point.
From the living room, Monica's voice reverberates through the house, "I like my ice crushed sweetie."
Seth blows out a stream of air, opens up the china cabinet.
"How many glasses?" He asks Ryan dully.
"Six." The teen counters without enthusiasm.
Monica calls out, "And some sliced low-fat cheese, ok? Don't go to any trouble. Some American Baby Swiss would be fabulous. No crackers-modified Atkins, you know."
Ryan screws the lid off the bottle of vodka, looks forlornly in the direction of the living room, and then back down to the open bottle of liquor.
Maybe he should ask Seth to get seven glasses.
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To be continued...such as it is.