hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-07-02 12:16 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-07-02 12:16 pm
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Happy Unbirthday, baby!
Saturday is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serialkarma's birthday, but since I plan to be incoherent indisposed on that day, I wanted to post this today for her. I hope you have an absolutely lovely birthday, sweetie, and that this new year brings you all the happiness and RayK clones you can handle.
The O.C.
The Steve McQueen Reform School for Boys
As far as Seth can tell the most unfortunate thing about coming back from Tahiti, apart from the weirdness with his parents and the grounding and Summer dumping him and the thing with the baby, is that it seems to have negated everything that he and Ryan have been through together. Don’t get him wrong -- they have a bond, a really strong, Superglue bond, but it’s like with no Marissa or Summer or Theresa, or hell, even Luke, to test the bond, they just doesn’t seem to know what to do around each other. It’s like they need other people around to prove how manly they are, which is just strange because Seth? Really not that manly. Ryan? Really manly.
Ryan’s like one of those stars from the 50s and 60s who were so manly that even when they were gay, nobody had a clue. Like Rock Hudson. Or James Dean. Not that James Dean was gay, at least Seth doesn’t think he was –- it’s not like Seth could ask him now or anything though, what with him being dead. Of course, it’s not like Seth could ask Ryan if he were gay either, because there would be no point, because it’s obvious that he’s not.
Ryan’s straight and Seth’s Seth, and for some reason reconciling these things seems to be harder than it was before Tahiti and Theresa. They still share comics and play video games, but it’s like they don’t talk anymore. Not that Ryan’s ever been that big with the sharing, but sometimes Seth feels like they’re back to that first morning when Ryan walked into the living room and Seth almost choked on his own tongue. Except that Seth doesn’t know how bring this up with Ryan, and guys aren’t supposed to talk about their feelings, so Seth has no idea what he’s doing.
It’d be nice if things were normal, but Seth’s not sure if they know what normal is anyway. He wouldn’t say no to a map or a rulebook of some sort though.
*
Ryan has one tee shirt that's not black or white or gray or something that Seth's mom picked out, and Seth only knows this because he might've gone snooping back when Ryan was working at the Crab Shack. Not that he did this, it's all theoretical of course, but if Seth had gone through Ryan's dresser drawers and maybe looked too long at Ryan's boxer-briefs who could blame him, because, Sweet Jesus, boxer-briefs? He's digressing from his point though, because Ryan’s wearing that damn other shirt now.
Out of all his bland tee-shirts, with no band logos to speak of, Ryan's got one a very fucking cool shirt. It’s totally not him. At least it’s not the Ryan that Seth knows, but maybe Ryan’s changing, because Seth knows if something like what happened to Theresa happened to Summer, well, Seth doesn’t really want to think about that. He’d much rather focus on Ryan walking around with Steve McQueen’s face on his chest.
On the television, five feet away, Seth's car crashes into a wall; he knows the feeling. He shrugs in that 'what can you do' way when Ryan looks from the game to him and then back again.
“Even Mario Andretti crashed a couple times,” Seth says.
Ryan just lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t think Mario Andretti was ever told that he drove like someone’s grandmother.”
“That was one time!” he protests. “You drive a little slow, one time, and you never hear the end of it. It’s not like I stole a car or anything.”
Ryan makes a noise that sounds a lot like a snort. “Point taken.”
*
Sometimes it’s hard for Seth to be around Ryan, not because he’s angry with him or anything, but -- actually, no, that’s a huge fucking lie. Seth is angry at Ryan. He’s angry that Ryan got Theresa pregnant; he’s angry that Ryan started dating Marissa in the first place. He angry that Ryan actually made it possible for him to have Summer and blew his entire ‘I’m straight’ cover.
God, sometimes Seth wants to grab Ryan by the neck of his wifebeater and shout at him until Ryan talks and Seth’s out of words. How’s Seth supposed to play by the unspoken rules when he doesn’t even know what they are? What kind of friendship is this?
Also could Ryan stop stretching his arm along the back of the sofa for the sake of Seth's sanity?
"God Save the Queen, Ry? I had no idea you were such a punk. Not that I think you're a punk, being from Chino and all, I just meant into punk music. I mean you listen to Journey, and no offense, dude, but Sid Vicious would have Steve Perry for lunch."
Ryan's one of those people who doesn't actually have to say anything to say a lot, and the frown turning down the corners of his mouth is saying a whole lot. What makes things even harder for Seth is that he hates it when Ryan’s upset or angry or hurt, but sometimes it’s like having a conversation with a bagel. Captain Oats has more to say than Ryan most days.
“Don’t start trashing Journey,” Ryan says, shifting on the sofa so that his shirt rides up his stomach. “I bet they could beat up Conor Oberst any day.”
Seth snorts. “Dude, I could beat up Conor Oberst.”
Ryan makes a derisory noise, which offends Seth a lot. “I could too!” he says defiantly.
“Maybe if he was drunk and had one hand tied behind his back.”
“That’s cold, my friend,” Seth says. “But not necessarily wrong.”
*
There are people in this world who have great big filters between their brains and their mouths -- Seth is not one of them. His heart is in the right place most of the time, it’s just that his mouth gets away from him. "He was pretty cool, Steve McQueen, you know, with The Great Escape and Bullitt, and how cool was The Magnificent Seven? You know The Clash named a song after that movie; you do know who The Clash are, right? I mean because you're wearing that ode to the Sex Pistols on your shirt, dude, and they're all kind of the same genre. That's a really nice shirt by the way; I can see why you're a fan, he was pretty hot -- I mean good. Really good, because you know, Steve McQueen is like a man's man. Not so big on the talking, but big on the action, like you."
Seth stops to take a breath under Ryan's incredulous gaze. It's kinda hard to remember how to breathe with Ryan's chest rising and falling in that damn shirt. Friends don’t react to friends this way, do they?
"Doesn't all that talking without breathing make you dizzy?" Ryan asks.
Seth opens his mouth once, twice, and then scowls. "Everybody's a comedian; I think I liked you better when you were playing Mr Tall, Dark and Silent."
Ryan's laughter goes a long way to soothing Seth's hurt feelings, and he turns back to the television to stop the horrible noise coming from the speakers. He loves his PlayStation, but the soundtracks on some of his games leave a lot to be desired.
"Do you want to play?" he asks, attempting to pass the control sideways. He drops the control on the sofa between them when Ryan shakes his head.
"No, I'm good."
"I know you're good," Seth quips. "I asked if you wanted to play."
Out the corner of his eye, Seth catches Ryan rolling his eyes.
"Did you know that he was from Chino?” Seth asks, gesturing to Ryan's shirt.
"He's a hometown hero," Ryan says matter-of-factly. "He went to the Chino Reform School for Boys and used to donate stuff to them from his movies."
It takes Seth a minute to process that there's a bit of trivia that Ryan knows that he doesn't, and they're both silent as Ryan watches the video game loop on the TV, and Seth tries to reconcile Ryan and Steve McQueen in his mind. The similarities are totally there with the tall, dark and hot -- okay, Ryan's not really that tall, and also, blonde -- but still hot. He's definitely got that McQueen testosterone thing happening.
Seth couldn't exude that much testosterone even if he had a supply strapped to his chest as backup, and this is obviously why Ryan has Steve McQueen on his chest and Seth listens to emo.
“...Seth?...Seth!”
“Yeah, okay, that’s my name, no need to wear it out or shout.”
“You okay?” Ryan doesn’t have to put his hand on Seth’s leg. Really he doesn’t, because a) Ryan’s normally all about respecting the personal space. Hell, Ryan’s the King of Personal Space, and b) that’s just mean to put his hand so close to where Seth’s trying very hard to control his seventeen year-old male hormones.
Seth should protest -- and he totally will as soon as he remembers how to speak. He doesn’t think that the squeaking noises he’s making really count.
“Seth?”
“Good,” he grits out, very much not focusing on how nice it feels to have Ryan’s hand on his thigh. Or how nice it would be if Ryan’s hand moved up a bit. “I’m good, really good. Not good like Steve McQueen, did you, um - oh wait, dude, we don’t have any McQueen DVD’s. How about Gone in 60 Seconds? I mean, I know it doesn’t have that McQueen thing, but hey, cars. I know you like cars. I mean that’s why you’re here --“
Seth actually covers his mouth with his hand because it’s clear that he just has no filtering system at all, and Ryan just pulls away and looks at him like he sprouted antennae.
“You are so weird,” Ryan says.
Seth’ll take it as a compliment.
*
Seth doesn’t think having epiphanies while watching Jerry Bruckheimer movies is good for his health because all the explosions and overly macho men are really distracting, but he can’t really ignore the truth any longer. His problem isn’t his sexuality or his non-existent social life or who he may or may not be in love with -- what’s bothering him the most is trying to figure out how not to fuck up the most important thing he’s got going on in his life right now: his friendship with Ryan.
Also, Giovanni Ribisi has got to be the greasiest, filthiest B-movie actor that Seth’s ever seen, and it’s hard for Seth to focus on the movie, because he keeps wanting to wipe off the screen.
“He looks like a graduate,” he announces randomly.
“What?”
“Giovanni Ribisi. He totally looks like he went to the Chino Reform School for Boys.”
Ryan’s response is a low, but it kinda sounds like he said he went. “Wait, what?” Seth scrounges in the sofa cushions for the remote and pauses the DVD. “You went to Steve McQueen’s Reform School for Boys to learn how to be so macho and manly? Dude, that explains so much.”
Ryan’s doesn’t laugh at the joke. “I said, I had a friend who went. Arturo. Trey did too, for a little bit. He got kicked out though.”
Ryan stops talking just as quickly as he starts, and Seth freezes on the sofa, trying to figure out what to do with the information he’s just been given. Ryan never talks about Trey. He never talks about his family at all -- and maybe this means it’s only Seth who thinks that they’re having bonding problems.
Maybe they’ve just moved to a new level of their friendship, and Seth’s still trying to catch up. Guys can just be friends; everything doesn’t have to be about sex, does it?
Actually, that’s a stupid question –- they’re seventeen, of course everything is about sex.
Seth bets Steve McQueen didn’t have problems like this.
*
Nicholas Cage and Angelina Jolie are having a conversation on the TV about whether boosting cars or having sex is more exciting, and Seth so wants to ask Ryan his opinion. There’s a part of him that knows that’s kind of wrong and tactless, but that’s never stopped him before.
“What’s your expert opinion?” he asks just as Angelina and Nic start talking about all the problems with getting it on in the car: the gear shift, the lack of leg room, the glove compartment, the foot wells. It sounds pretty fucking complicated to Seth, and it makes him really glad that his mom has a Range Rover, not that he’ll be seeing any action in it any time soon.
“What’s my what?” Ryan asks.
“Your opinion about the cars versus sex thing,” Seth says. “I mean you’re the only person I know of who would actually know; it’s not like I could ask my dad. He thinks a 'dipstick' is an insult, not a thing you use to check the radiator."
There was a time when Ryan would’ve been offended by Seth’s question, but maybe their bonding isn’t as messed up as Seth thinks it is, because the only thing Ryan says is, ”The oil, Seth. A dipstick is for checking the oil."
“I knew that.”
“Of course you did.”
“I did so,” Seth protests. “Friends believe friends when they’re being self-delusional. Remember that.”
Ryan just shakes his head.
*
Part of friendship is looking out for your friends and caring about their well-being, and Seth always cares about Ryan’s well-being, which is obviously why he’s staring at him so hard that his eyes have gotten stuck. It’s just that Ryan’s so still next to him that Seth thinks he’s fallen asleep, and he’s just about to turn off the DVD when the guy from Boston Public starts spouting off to the kids who are trying to carjack him, and Ryan starts laughing.
Seth never hears Ryan laugh; sometimes he thinks Ryan’s forgotten how.
The guy on the TV is shouting, “Any asshole can pull a gun on somebody! You don't know the first thing about stealing a car! What you need is a role model!”
Ryan seems to think this is the funniest thing ever, and Seth can see how this is kinda funny, but it’s not the Chapelle Show or anything. “Dude, it’s not that funny,” he says.
Ryan just shakes his head as though Seth’s missed out on something big. “It would be if you were from Chino.”
“So you‘re saying that because I’m from Newport I don’t get it?” Seth protests. “That’s just wrong.”
“Seth, there are a lot of things you don’t get because you’re from Newport; it’s not your fault.”
Seth doesn’t think that Ryan means for that to hurt him as much as it does, but he can’t bite back the words that come anyway. “Is that why you went back to Theresa?”
Ryan’s eyes go dark, and Seth knows he’s pushed too hard, or too far, or too fast, but he can’t help himself. The noise from the movie goes fuzzy in Seth’s head, and he waits nervously as Ryan’s mouth draws into a thin line.
“That's part of it,” he says finally. “You don’t just leave people because things get rough.”
Seth knows an accusation when he hears it. “That’s – that’s not what I did.”
“That’s totally what you did,” Ryan retorts.
“Well, what do you expect me to do? Stick around and be nothing to nobody? You may be willing to be miserable just because you think it’s the right thing, but that’s not me.”
“Then why’d you come back?”
“Because.”
“Because,” Ryan parrots. The smirk on his face seems very tight, and it makes Seth’s chest hurt.
He doesn’t want to fight with Ryan, except he does. They need this. This needs to happen between them. They don’t have bonding issues; they have communication issues. They’re like married people –- except without the sex, which is just wrong. Seth would have sex with Ryan if Ryan would have sex with him –- but Ryan would have to stop having sex with everybody else first. Ryan’s a ho.
Seth didn’t really just have that thought. Except it’s so true.
Ryan’s a ho for everybody except Seth. That sucks.
“Because I wanted to,” Seth says finally, his eyes momentarily darting to the action on the TV to avoid the intensity of Ryan’s gaze.
“You mean because you had responsibilities, and you knew that.”
“Whatever, dude, if that’s what you need to believe, fine -- but just remember who left who first.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not supposed to mean anything; it means just what I said. I left because you left and my life sucks when you’re not around!” Seth shouts.
Clearly Ryan’s not expecting the shouting, but instead of leaning away from Seth he scoots forward, except Seth’s a little too busy venting right now to appreciate this. “I told you that; you know that, don’t act like you don’t! I had nothing before you came and I’d have nothing if you left me again. I hate it when you go all parental me. What is this, the Chino Reform School for Seth?”
Seth slumps back in the cushions and crosses his arms over his chest. “You can hate me now,” he says with a wave of his hand.
“I don’t hate you, Seth. You know that. I could never hate you, but don’t keep running away. Learn something when you fuck up,” Ryan says pointedly. “Clean up your act.”
“I’m trying,” Seth protests.
“Try harder,” Ryan says. “Just try harder.”
The air seems thick with indignation and hurt feelings, and Seth’s not sure if they’ve actually worked through anything here or just made everything twenty times worse. On the television screen Nic Cage is tearing up Long Beach in a really nice car.
“I missed you,” Seth says eventually. “That’s why I left.”
“I know.”
“Who doesn’t?” Seth says rhetorically with a shake of his head. Maybe what they really need more than fighting and arguing and being confused is to just accept that they’re really not like everybody else. Their friendship isn’t like everybody else’s.
Seth makes a noise and settles back into the sofa cushions. Out the corner of his eye, he watches as Ryan sighs deeply before leaning against the arm of the sofa. It looks like he’s relaxing, which is such an odd thing for Ryan to do that Seth can’t help watching.
He smiles to himself at little warm feeling that burns low in his stomach, because even when Ryan’s relaxing he’s still controlled and thought out. Seth couldn’t ask for a better guy to have his back. Except maybe James Dean or Steve McQueen.
“So, do you think Steve McQueen was gay?” pops out of Seth’s mouth before he thinks better of it.
“What?”
“It’s just something I was thinking about.” The sideways glance Ryan shoots him makes Seth color a bit more than normal. It's not like he asked if Ryan thought he was gay. “I mean if he was it doesn’t matter, right? Because he was Steve McQueen and he was just that cool, and who could argue with that?”
The narrow-eyed look Ryan gives him makes Seth a bit nervous, but all Ryan says is, “Your brain –- it’s a scary place to be, isn’t it?”
“Only sometimes.”
“And the rest of the time?”
“The rest of the time I’m just being me,” Seth shrugs.
Ryan nods. “Kinda like Steve McQueen.”
-end-
Again, Happy Birthday toserialkarma. *adores madly*
Also, this wouldn’t have been possible without assistance, betaing and massive prodding bylalejandra. All antennae are belonging to you. Thank you, little flower.
serialkarma's birthday, but since I plan to be The O.C.
As far as Seth can tell the most unfortunate thing about coming back from Tahiti, apart from the weirdness with his parents and the grounding and Summer dumping him and the thing with the baby, is that it seems to have negated everything that he and Ryan have been through together. Don’t get him wrong -- they have a bond, a really strong, Superglue bond, but it’s like with no Marissa or Summer or Theresa, or hell, even Luke, to test the bond, they just doesn’t seem to know what to do around each other. It’s like they need other people around to prove how manly they are, which is just strange because Seth? Really not that manly. Ryan? Really manly.
Ryan’s like one of those stars from the 50s and 60s who were so manly that even when they were gay, nobody had a clue. Like Rock Hudson. Or James Dean. Not that James Dean was gay, at least Seth doesn’t think he was –- it’s not like Seth could ask him now or anything though, what with him being dead. Of course, it’s not like Seth could ask Ryan if he were gay either, because there would be no point, because it’s obvious that he’s not.
Ryan’s straight and Seth’s Seth, and for some reason reconciling these things seems to be harder than it was before Tahiti and Theresa. They still share comics and play video games, but it’s like they don’t talk anymore. Not that Ryan’s ever been that big with the sharing, but sometimes Seth feels like they’re back to that first morning when Ryan walked into the living room and Seth almost choked on his own tongue. Except that Seth doesn’t know how bring this up with Ryan, and guys aren’t supposed to talk about their feelings, so Seth has no idea what he’s doing.
It’d be nice if things were normal, but Seth’s not sure if they know what normal is anyway. He wouldn’t say no to a map or a rulebook of some sort though.
Ryan has one tee shirt that's not black or white or gray or something that Seth's mom picked out, and Seth only knows this because he might've gone snooping back when Ryan was working at the Crab Shack. Not that he did this, it's all theoretical of course, but if Seth had gone through Ryan's dresser drawers and maybe looked too long at Ryan's boxer-briefs who could blame him, because, Sweet Jesus, boxer-briefs? He's digressing from his point though, because Ryan’s wearing that damn other shirt now.
Out of all his bland tee-shirts, with no band logos to speak of, Ryan's got one a very fucking cool shirt. It’s totally not him. At least it’s not the Ryan that Seth knows, but maybe Ryan’s changing, because Seth knows if something like what happened to Theresa happened to Summer, well, Seth doesn’t really want to think about that. He’d much rather focus on Ryan walking around with Steve McQueen’s face on his chest.
On the television, five feet away, Seth's car crashes into a wall; he knows the feeling. He shrugs in that 'what can you do' way when Ryan looks from the game to him and then back again.
“Even Mario Andretti crashed a couple times,” Seth says.
Ryan just lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t think Mario Andretti was ever told that he drove like someone’s grandmother.”
“That was one time!” he protests. “You drive a little slow, one time, and you never hear the end of it. It’s not like I stole a car or anything.”
Ryan makes a noise that sounds a lot like a snort. “Point taken.”
Sometimes it’s hard for Seth to be around Ryan, not because he’s angry with him or anything, but -- actually, no, that’s a huge fucking lie. Seth is angry at Ryan. He’s angry that Ryan got Theresa pregnant; he’s angry that Ryan started dating Marissa in the first place. He angry that Ryan actually made it possible for him to have Summer and blew his entire ‘I’m straight’ cover.
God, sometimes Seth wants to grab Ryan by the neck of his wifebeater and shout at him until Ryan talks and Seth’s out of words. How’s Seth supposed to play by the unspoken rules when he doesn’t even know what they are? What kind of friendship is this?
Also could Ryan stop stretching his arm along the back of the sofa for the sake of Seth's sanity?
"God Save the Queen, Ry? I had no idea you were such a punk. Not that I think you're a punk, being from Chino and all, I just meant into punk music. I mean you listen to Journey, and no offense, dude, but Sid Vicious would have Steve Perry for lunch."
Ryan's one of those people who doesn't actually have to say anything to say a lot, and the frown turning down the corners of his mouth is saying a whole lot. What makes things even harder for Seth is that he hates it when Ryan’s upset or angry or hurt, but sometimes it’s like having a conversation with a bagel. Captain Oats has more to say than Ryan most days.
“Don’t start trashing Journey,” Ryan says, shifting on the sofa so that his shirt rides up his stomach. “I bet they could beat up Conor Oberst any day.”
Seth snorts. “Dude, I could beat up Conor Oberst.”
Ryan makes a derisory noise, which offends Seth a lot. “I could too!” he says defiantly.
“Maybe if he was drunk and had one hand tied behind his back.”
“That’s cold, my friend,” Seth says. “But not necessarily wrong.”
There are people in this world who have great big filters between their brains and their mouths -- Seth is not one of them. His heart is in the right place most of the time, it’s just that his mouth gets away from him. "He was pretty cool, Steve McQueen, you know, with The Great Escape and Bullitt, and how cool was The Magnificent Seven? You know The Clash named a song after that movie; you do know who The Clash are, right? I mean because you're wearing that ode to the Sex Pistols on your shirt, dude, and they're all kind of the same genre. That's a really nice shirt by the way; I can see why you're a fan, he was pretty hot -- I mean good. Really good, because you know, Steve McQueen is like a man's man. Not so big on the talking, but big on the action, like you."
Seth stops to take a breath under Ryan's incredulous gaze. It's kinda hard to remember how to breathe with Ryan's chest rising and falling in that damn shirt. Friends don’t react to friends this way, do they?
"Doesn't all that talking without breathing make you dizzy?" Ryan asks.
Seth opens his mouth once, twice, and then scowls. "Everybody's a comedian; I think I liked you better when you were playing Mr Tall, Dark and Silent."
Ryan's laughter goes a long way to soothing Seth's hurt feelings, and he turns back to the television to stop the horrible noise coming from the speakers. He loves his PlayStation, but the soundtracks on some of his games leave a lot to be desired.
"Do you want to play?" he asks, attempting to pass the control sideways. He drops the control on the sofa between them when Ryan shakes his head.
"No, I'm good."
"I know you're good," Seth quips. "I asked if you wanted to play."
Out the corner of his eye, Seth catches Ryan rolling his eyes.
"Did you know that he was from Chino?” Seth asks, gesturing to Ryan's shirt.
"He's a hometown hero," Ryan says matter-of-factly. "He went to the Chino Reform School for Boys and used to donate stuff to them from his movies."
It takes Seth a minute to process that there's a bit of trivia that Ryan knows that he doesn't, and they're both silent as Ryan watches the video game loop on the TV, and Seth tries to reconcile Ryan and Steve McQueen in his mind. The similarities are totally there with the tall, dark and hot -- okay, Ryan's not really that tall, and also, blonde -- but still hot. He's definitely got that McQueen testosterone thing happening.
Seth couldn't exude that much testosterone even if he had a supply strapped to his chest as backup, and this is obviously why Ryan has Steve McQueen on his chest and Seth listens to emo.
“...Seth?...Seth!”
“Yeah, okay, that’s my name, no need to wear it out or shout.”
“You okay?” Ryan doesn’t have to put his hand on Seth’s leg. Really he doesn’t, because a) Ryan’s normally all about respecting the personal space. Hell, Ryan’s the King of Personal Space, and b) that’s just mean to put his hand so close to where Seth’s trying very hard to control his seventeen year-old male hormones.
Seth should protest -- and he totally will as soon as he remembers how to speak. He doesn’t think that the squeaking noises he’s making really count.
“Seth?”
“Good,” he grits out, very much not focusing on how nice it feels to have Ryan’s hand on his thigh. Or how nice it would be if Ryan’s hand moved up a bit. “I’m good, really good. Not good like Steve McQueen, did you, um - oh wait, dude, we don’t have any McQueen DVD’s. How about Gone in 60 Seconds? I mean, I know it doesn’t have that McQueen thing, but hey, cars. I know you like cars. I mean that’s why you’re here --“
Seth actually covers his mouth with his hand because it’s clear that he just has no filtering system at all, and Ryan just pulls away and looks at him like he sprouted antennae.
“You are so weird,” Ryan says.
Seth’ll take it as a compliment.
Seth doesn’t think having epiphanies while watching Jerry Bruckheimer movies is good for his health because all the explosions and overly macho men are really distracting, but he can’t really ignore the truth any longer. His problem isn’t his sexuality or his non-existent social life or who he may or may not be in love with -- what’s bothering him the most is trying to figure out how not to fuck up the most important thing he’s got going on in his life right now: his friendship with Ryan.
Also, Giovanni Ribisi has got to be the greasiest, filthiest B-movie actor that Seth’s ever seen, and it’s hard for Seth to focus on the movie, because he keeps wanting to wipe off the screen.
“He looks like a graduate,” he announces randomly.
“What?”
“Giovanni Ribisi. He totally looks like he went to the Chino Reform School for Boys.”
Ryan’s response is a low, but it kinda sounds like he said he went. “Wait, what?” Seth scrounges in the sofa cushions for the remote and pauses the DVD. “You went to Steve McQueen’s Reform School for Boys to learn how to be so macho and manly? Dude, that explains so much.”
Ryan’s doesn’t laugh at the joke. “I said, I had a friend who went. Arturo. Trey did too, for a little bit. He got kicked out though.”
Ryan stops talking just as quickly as he starts, and Seth freezes on the sofa, trying to figure out what to do with the information he’s just been given. Ryan never talks about Trey. He never talks about his family at all -- and maybe this means it’s only Seth who thinks that they’re having bonding problems.
Maybe they’ve just moved to a new level of their friendship, and Seth’s still trying to catch up. Guys can just be friends; everything doesn’t have to be about sex, does it?
Actually, that’s a stupid question –- they’re seventeen, of course everything is about sex.
Seth bets Steve McQueen didn’t have problems like this.
Nicholas Cage and Angelina Jolie are having a conversation on the TV about whether boosting cars or having sex is more exciting, and Seth so wants to ask Ryan his opinion. There’s a part of him that knows that’s kind of wrong and tactless, but that’s never stopped him before.
“What’s your expert opinion?” he asks just as Angelina and Nic start talking about all the problems with getting it on in the car: the gear shift, the lack of leg room, the glove compartment, the foot wells. It sounds pretty fucking complicated to Seth, and it makes him really glad that his mom has a Range Rover, not that he’ll be seeing any action in it any time soon.
“What’s my what?” Ryan asks.
“Your opinion about the cars versus sex thing,” Seth says. “I mean you’re the only person I know of who would actually know; it’s not like I could ask my dad. He thinks a 'dipstick' is an insult, not a thing you use to check the radiator."
There was a time when Ryan would’ve been offended by Seth’s question, but maybe their bonding isn’t as messed up as Seth thinks it is, because the only thing Ryan says is, ”The oil, Seth. A dipstick is for checking the oil."
“I knew that.”
“Of course you did.”
“I did so,” Seth protests. “Friends believe friends when they’re being self-delusional. Remember that.”
Ryan just shakes his head.
Part of friendship is looking out for your friends and caring about their well-being, and Seth always cares about Ryan’s well-being, which is obviously why he’s staring at him so hard that his eyes have gotten stuck. It’s just that Ryan’s so still next to him that Seth thinks he’s fallen asleep, and he’s just about to turn off the DVD when the guy from Boston Public starts spouting off to the kids who are trying to carjack him, and Ryan starts laughing.
Seth never hears Ryan laugh; sometimes he thinks Ryan’s forgotten how.
The guy on the TV is shouting, “Any asshole can pull a gun on somebody! You don't know the first thing about stealing a car! What you need is a role model!”
Ryan seems to think this is the funniest thing ever, and Seth can see how this is kinda funny, but it’s not the Chapelle Show or anything. “Dude, it’s not that funny,” he says.
Ryan just shakes his head as though Seth’s missed out on something big. “It would be if you were from Chino.”
“So you‘re saying that because I’m from Newport I don’t get it?” Seth protests. “That’s just wrong.”
“Seth, there are a lot of things you don’t get because you’re from Newport; it’s not your fault.”
Seth doesn’t think that Ryan means for that to hurt him as much as it does, but he can’t bite back the words that come anyway. “Is that why you went back to Theresa?”
Ryan’s eyes go dark, and Seth knows he’s pushed too hard, or too far, or too fast, but he can’t help himself. The noise from the movie goes fuzzy in Seth’s head, and he waits nervously as Ryan’s mouth draws into a thin line.
“That's part of it,” he says finally. “You don’t just leave people because things get rough.”
Seth knows an accusation when he hears it. “That’s – that’s not what I did.”
“That’s totally what you did,” Ryan retorts.
“Well, what do you expect me to do? Stick around and be nothing to nobody? You may be willing to be miserable just because you think it’s the right thing, but that’s not me.”
“Then why’d you come back?”
“Because.”
“Because,” Ryan parrots. The smirk on his face seems very tight, and it makes Seth’s chest hurt.
He doesn’t want to fight with Ryan, except he does. They need this. This needs to happen between them. They don’t have bonding issues; they have communication issues. They’re like married people –- except without the sex, which is just wrong. Seth would have sex with Ryan if Ryan would have sex with him –- but Ryan would have to stop having sex with everybody else first. Ryan’s a ho.
Seth didn’t really just have that thought. Except it’s so true.
Ryan’s a ho for everybody except Seth. That sucks.
“Because I wanted to,” Seth says finally, his eyes momentarily darting to the action on the TV to avoid the intensity of Ryan’s gaze.
“You mean because you had responsibilities, and you knew that.”
“Whatever, dude, if that’s what you need to believe, fine -- but just remember who left who first.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not supposed to mean anything; it means just what I said. I left because you left and my life sucks when you’re not around!” Seth shouts.
Clearly Ryan’s not expecting the shouting, but instead of leaning away from Seth he scoots forward, except Seth’s a little too busy venting right now to appreciate this. “I told you that; you know that, don’t act like you don’t! I had nothing before you came and I’d have nothing if you left me again. I hate it when you go all parental me. What is this, the Chino Reform School for Seth?”
Seth slumps back in the cushions and crosses his arms over his chest. “You can hate me now,” he says with a wave of his hand.
“I don’t hate you, Seth. You know that. I could never hate you, but don’t keep running away. Learn something when you fuck up,” Ryan says pointedly. “Clean up your act.”
“I’m trying,” Seth protests.
“Try harder,” Ryan says. “Just try harder.”
The air seems thick with indignation and hurt feelings, and Seth’s not sure if they’ve actually worked through anything here or just made everything twenty times worse. On the television screen Nic Cage is tearing up Long Beach in a really nice car.
“I missed you,” Seth says eventually. “That’s why I left.”
“I know.”
“Who doesn’t?” Seth says rhetorically with a shake of his head. Maybe what they really need more than fighting and arguing and being confused is to just accept that they’re really not like everybody else. Their friendship isn’t like everybody else’s.
Seth makes a noise and settles back into the sofa cushions. Out the corner of his eye, he watches as Ryan sighs deeply before leaning against the arm of the sofa. It looks like he’s relaxing, which is such an odd thing for Ryan to do that Seth can’t help watching.
He smiles to himself at little warm feeling that burns low in his stomach, because even when Ryan’s relaxing he’s still controlled and thought out. Seth couldn’t ask for a better guy to have his back. Except maybe James Dean or Steve McQueen.
“So, do you think Steve McQueen was gay?” pops out of Seth’s mouth before he thinks better of it.
“What?”
“It’s just something I was thinking about.” The sideways glance Ryan shoots him makes Seth color a bit more than normal. It's not like he asked if Ryan thought he was gay. “I mean if he was it doesn’t matter, right? Because he was Steve McQueen and he was just that cool, and who could argue with that?”
The narrow-eyed look Ryan gives him makes Seth a bit nervous, but all Ryan says is, “Your brain –- it’s a scary place to be, isn’t it?”
“Only sometimes.”
“And the rest of the time?”
“The rest of the time I’m just being me,” Seth shrugs.
Ryan nods. “Kinda like Steve McQueen.”
-end-
Again, Happy Birthday to
serialkarma. *adores madly* Also, this wouldn’t have been possible without assistance, betaing and massive prodding by
lalejandra. All antennae are belonging to you. Thank you, little flower.
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So often I see fics that are perfectly adequate and there's really nothing bad to laugh at or anything stellar to admire. So often! It's been weeks since I read a really good story and this one more than satisfies. The characterization was PERFECT! There was a plot but it wasn't all melodramatic and super-angsty the way that so very many fics are, it didn't veer between "Teehee! I love you! Lalala!" and "I'm gonna slit my wrists! Wah!" illogically and I love you for that extra because it's just so Seth-y that it wouldn't flap around in the wind like that. I mean there are highs and lows but they're moderated and they make sense and they aren't cartoonish at all.
Sorry, I rambled there, but this is possibly the best fic from this fandom that I've ever seen. You rock!
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