hackthis_archive | “All they do is piss and moan, inside the Rolling Stone’

There are these photos circulating (thanks to

tigress35) perhaps you’ve seen them.

It’s hard not to get ~~freaked~~ ~~possessive~~ excited when you see other people wearing your wardrobe. Especially when they look that hot.

The O.C
Things to Do in Newport When You’re Dead

Seth’s Certificate of Death lists “Death by Hyperventilation brought about by the hotness of Ryan Atwood in clothing that doesn’t belong to him,” as his cause of death.

Really, it does.

Seth knows this like he knows he has to be dead, because there’s no way Ryan would be wearing Seth’s clothes if Seth were still alive and acting like he didn’t want to lick Ryan every time he walked by, or twitched, or blinked, or gave any other indication of being alive.

Ergo, Seth is dead.

Which is okay by him, especially since the shirt Ryan’s wearing is too tight in the shoulders and the short sleeves make Ryan’s arms look even more developed, menacing, and well, molestable, than they already are. If that’s possible.

Actually, Ryan kind of looks like a bouncer who’s lost his de rigueur black leather jacket in a backroom, and Seth’s heart has stopped beating because he can’t remember how to breathe.

The band logo is stretched tightly across Ryan’s chest in a way that makes it pretty evident that he’s not a stereotypical Ramones fan; since the stereotypical Ramones fan tends to be lanky and manic and in possession of a Ramones shirt that actually *fits*.

The jeans are too tight across the thighs and when Seth glances down he can see the hems pooling around Ryan’s ankles. Ryan’s feet are totally hairless and they look smooth, and Seth has never thought of himself as a foot fetishist, but everybody has to be something sometime.

Now that he’s dead he’ll explore this further.

Now that he’s dead he also knows that “Durrr” is a perfectly acceptable alternative to any word in the English language, and he knows this like he knows that Ryan is wearing gray boxer-briefs underneath his jeans. It’s not so much factual knowledge inasmuch as Seth is wishing it to be so, and so it shall be. After all, Seth recognizes that he’s dead, because well, Ryan wearing his clothes? So a reward from the afterlife, and there is no way Moses or Jesus would give him this kind of miracle for Chrismukkah.

Also Seth recognizes the shirt as one that he just stuck in the laundry last night, and so, he’s obviously died and gone to heaven. The Moses and Jesus version of heaven, and how cool is that?

Of course there’s a very small chance that he’s not dead and just dreaming, but if he is dreaming, he’s perfectly happy to remain in a vegetative-comatose state for the rest of his life, and then he’ll be really really close to death. As long as Ryan keeps wearing his clothes. As long as this is really only a precursor to Ryan taking *off* his clothes, Seth is so okay with being The Boy in a Coma.

Seth is more than okay with that, and since he’s most likely dead he’s not supposed to understand what Dream Ryan is saying anyway, is he?

Yes, Ryan’s mouth is moving, but since Seth is dead he’s fairly sure that whatever Ryan’s saying doesn’t matter. It’s not every day Seth’s deepest, darkest so-repressed-that-it’s-obvious fantasy wanders into his bedroom and sits on his bed, and hey, since he’s dead it’s okay if he stares and stares, and again with the stare-age.

And then with the touching because, hey, he’s dead or dreaming and funny how ‘real’ his jeans feel when they’re on Ryan.

It’s almost as funny as the way that Ryan’s thighs tense under Seth’s exploring fingers, but he’s dead, and they’re probably both dead and they probably got shot by a vengeful Donnie or drowned by the water polo team or something.

Except even in death, Seth’s mouth has a will of its own. “So, you’re wearing my clothes, and it’s really hot, and wow. I never look that good in this shirt. Obviously since I’m dead and dreaming, I get to dress you in whatever I want, since you know, projection, but dude, if I had known I totally would’ve harassed you to wear concert shirts when we were alive. ”

Since he’s dead, Seth has carte blanche to do whatever he wants, like pushing Ryan back on the bed and straddling his hips. Seth can stare and run his fingers on the inside of Ryan’s forearms and marvel at how soft Ryan feels.

And it’s when Seth is stretched out on top of Ryan and sniffing his neck that he notices there’s a hole in the neck of Ryan’s shirt, which is just like the one in Seth’s old Ramones shirt, and the more Seth’s hands grope over worn cotton and soft denim, the faster his mouth runs.

“Dude, words cannot begin to explain how sorry I am we’re both dead, but since I’m dead I can tell you that I’m gay, and you won’t freak out on me. Well, not gay, more bi, since I’ve had ‘women.’ Not like you’ve had women, but since I’m dead I can have women *and* you. Actually, I don’t know if it’s all guys I like or just you, and probably Jude Law, since yeah, he’s just hot, but that totally doesn’t matter now.”

Seth’s mouth keeps running, and if he doesn’t shut up, he’s totally never going to kiss Ryan, and shouldn’t Ryan be touching him back since he’s dead and this is Jesus and Moses’ Heaven?

It’s strange the way that Ryan’s white-knuckling Seth’s bedspread.

Almost as strange as the way that Ryan is really really warm under Seth’s body.

Really warm, like not dead.

Oh.

For the first time Seth realizes that Ryan’s breath is warm against his face, and Seth has to ask even though he knows the answer. “We’re not dead, are we?”

Ryan shakes his head, and Seth’s heart officially stops.

*Now*, he’s dead.

The bedsprings protest loudly when Seth propels himself off the bed at an alarming rate.

“You, you’re wearing my clothes,” he begins, pointing at Ryan sprawled out on his bed. He takes another step back as Ryan pushes himself up on his elbows. “Those are… that’s mine, and you don’t wear my clothes, because they’re *mine*, and do you even know who the Ramones are? Why are you wearing my clothes? Is it any wonder I thought I’d died and gone to heaven? Not that I’d thought you were in hell, but, but --”

Seth is six steps away from his door, and he can totally make a run for it, except that Ryan moves pretty fast for a dead person.

One minute Seth’s contemplating how far he can get on foot and the next he’s flat on his back with Ryan crouching over him. Okay, it’s less crouching and more like trapping.

Ryan has Seth trapped, and Seth really wishes he were dead.

“They’re in the laundry,” Ryan says.

Seth stares. “Huh?”

“My clothes, they’re in the laundry.”

Seth does not compute.

“I needed to wash my clothes and yours were in the dryer.”

“Huh,” Seth repeats.

Ryan tilts his head to the side, waiting.

Eventually Seth gets with the program. “And, and you felt that this was a good solution to the problem, the wearing of *my* clothes…”

Seth has no other thoughts because Ryan’s wearing his clothing and this means that he took his clothes *off* to put Seth’s clothes *on*. Ryan’s naked under Seth's clothes. Or wearing underwear, or something and hey, naked man wearing Seth’s clothing and hot.

No, hot does not even come close.

Seth’s brain is going to melt and then he’ll be dead anyway.

He wonders which version of hell he’s going to wind up in.

“What’s your obsession with death and me wearing your clothes?” Ryan’s voice jolts Seth out of his Last Rites. Not that Seth knows anything Last Rites from his Jewish/Protestant parents, but hey, he’s watched a lot of movies.

“Are you Catholic?” Seth asks.

Ryan stares. “Is this a Chrismukkah thing again?”

“No, no, I just figured… I have no idea what I figured. Um, sorry. Yeah, definitely sorry about the groping and thinking you’re dead and can you let me up now so I can go die of embarrassment somewhere comfortable, like an Iron Maiden or The Rack?”

When Ryan shakes his head, Seth sighs. He’s going to be apologizing forever at this rate.

“I said I was sorry, and I am sorry, chalk it up to sugar deprivation, or maybe I need more coffee. I’ve been cutting back recently, because they say it stunts your growth, but clearly some people are not cut out for detox, like Courtney Love, and I totally need coffee and –“

Seth only shuts up because Ryan kisses him, hard. And because it’s good and wet and messy, and Seth has an all new reason to hate Marissa because she got to kiss Ryan first, and not just because she almost got Ryan taken away, again.

When Ryan pulls away, Seth blindly tries to follow except he can’t actually detach his head from the rest of his body unless he invests in a guillotine and when he opens his eyes, Ryan is watching him, amusement evident.

“So you like me in your clothes?” Ryan says. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“I’d like you in my clothes, in your clothes, out of your clothes, or my clothes, I’m not really picky,” Seth pauses. “Did that sound really Dr. Seuss to you too?”

“Only if Dr Seuss does kink and fetish,” Ryan mocks.

Seth blinks. “That wrongness of that is so great that I think you have scarred me for life. I think that you have completely ruined my childhood and next you’ll tell me there’s no Tooth Fairy or that Guinness isn’t made of motor oil and all my illusions will be shattered.”

Ryan’s wry grin makes Seth’s heart twitch.

Ryan’s lips whispering in his ear make other things twitch. “So, what do dead people with Dr Seuss issues do when they find out that they’re not dead?"

Seth’s heart can’t decide whether it wants to start or stop or just jump out his chest and run down the hall screaming about all the trauma it's been subjected to.

When Seth turns his head slightly, he finds himself babbling against Ryan’s neck. “The same thing people wearing clothes that don’t belong to them do after they’ve been accosted by the emo kid down the hall – Playstation!”

Ryan’s laughing makes Seth grin, and he wonders how on earth he could ever give this up, even if he was dead.

-end-

Notes: I am trying desperately to combat my writer’s block, which is really making everything fifty times more difficult than normal, because I have shit I need to write! *sulks* I need a ‘Caution: Writer Sulking’ icon. And a Cookie Monster icon. Or an Oscar the Grouch icon. Or a Kiera one. Or a Seth one. Gah!

Thanks to the always timely and encouraging

serialkarma for beta duty.

Happy Birthday, edie22!

I hope you have a lovely day.