Disclaimer: The O.C. belongs to Josh Schwartz.
Summary: Ryan Atwood and Marissa Cooper are total strangers. One day, both are sitting in the same waiting room, all alone, and on each other's nerves. The excessive beeping of a broken machine doesn't help either. One shot. AU.
Marissa Cooper's day started out fine. She got up when her alarm rang at 6 a.m. or maybe 10 minutes later. But that's unnecessary and unimportant information, as she'd say. She showered in her newly renovated ensuite and dressed in one of her boyfriend of 3 year's dress shirts tucked in by her new high wasted shorts. Pairing the outfit with dark over-sized sunglasses, a black Chanel clutch and black patent pumps she was nearing on ready.
"Coffee?" Her boyfriend, Adam asked.
"No time, I've got to be at a photo shoot for Vogue in less than half an hour. I doubt a cab is going to get me there in time in the stupid morning traffic," Marissa replied while hastily rolling up the sleeves to her elbows.
"Nice shirt," Adam mused.
"Yeah, hope you don't mind," Marissa shoved here Blackberry and lip-gloss into her clutch like she was waiting on a time bomb.
"Babe, calm down. Sit down and relax, have a coffee maybe some breakfast?" Adam placed one of his hands on each of Marissa's shoulders in a comforting manner.
"I don't have time, I'd love too. I really would. But hun, I have to go."
"Okay then," Adam resentfully responded. Marissa thanked him with a kiss on his cheek and proceeded to the front door of their New York apartment.
"I'm working late tonight, so I won't be back 'till 9," Adam called after her.
"Kay," Marissa yelled back, right before she opened the door and left.
Marissa was a well-known model, living in New York City; so hailing a cab wasn't the hardest of jobs. But New York, being New York, it wasn't the easiest either.
"Taxi!" She yelled as a yellow vehicle drove past. Marissa sighed in frustration then once more voiced, "taxi!"
After a couple more cabs passed her by, one actually stopped…about a minutes walk away.
Marissa's pumps clonked against the concrete she walked on, as she waltzed by, people watched in awe at her beauty and stature. That was something she was used too, it didn't tend to bother her much since as much as she denies, she loved the attention.
After growing up in Newport Beach with Julie Cooper as a mother, tall and awkward Marissa wasn't exactly the product of perfection – according to Julie anyway.
During her childhood and even her teens she had really only one or two true friends, which sucked. Seeing as how the area of Newport of which her family and friends resided, popular, thin, blonde and dumb seemed to be the in thing.
Once Marissa graduated from the elite private high school, Harbor High, she left as soon as she could. First Marissa visited Paris with her best friend Summer Roberts and did some serious damage to Julie's credit cards, but then Summer went back to Newport, while Marissa travelled to New York. Alone.
While sitting in a café one day, a man came up to Marissa and asked if she had ever considered modelling. She answered him with, "Er…me? Uh, um…" which she was convinced would scare him off. Everyone in New York appeared so confident and here she was stuttering her ass off.
"Here," the man offered her a business card, then continued with, "come by and ask for me. Say, around 2 p.m." Then he walked away, leaving a baffled Marissa.
As she caught up with the cab, she looked across the road and saw that same café, remembering that day bought a smile to her lips.
"Lady? You getting in?" The taxi driver asked with no patience whatsoever.
"Uh, yeah," Marissa replied, coming out of her daze and hopping in the back seat.
The driver of the cab asked for Marissa's destination, she responded then relaxed for the ride. That is, before she noticed the male occupying the other seat beside her.
"Can you please turn that down?" She questioned, the males iPod was blaring some rap song with multiple profanities, which were creeping her out a bit.
"Um, sir?" She asked, getting more and more aggravated.
"Can you turn that down?!" Marissa asked with more force.
The man still didn't register what she was saying, which stirred Marissa' anger further.
She asked once more, with no response, so she yanked the headphones out of his ears and took his iPod from his thigh and sat it on hers instead.
"What the hell man?" The guy exclaimed. He stared at Marissa with a what the fuck? look and snatched his iPod back from the apparently insane woman. Hot, but insane.
"You didn't listen to me when I asked you to turn it down, so-"
"- So you decided to take an iPod away from a complete stranger?"
"Well, you weren't listening to me! You were totally ignoring me!" Marissa argued.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Because having headphones in your ears and music playing just makes it SO easy to hear people!" He shot back.
"Maybe I overreacted a little-"
"Yeah, maybe just a little!" Replied the man.
"Why are you even listening to it in a car with a working perfectly stereo!?" She inquired.
"Because this dudes music sucks! I don't listen to Opera or whatever the fuck you people call that shit," Ryan replied to Marissa.
"Oh my god, is there really a pressing need to cuss?" Marissa asked in disgust.
"Sorry for being honest!"
"You can be honest without swearing," Marissa told the man.
"Yeah. Okay," Ryan rolled his eyes.
"I saw that."
"Do you ever stop?!" Ryan asked with a frustrated laugh.
"Apparently not. Who do you think you are anyway?" Marissa asked, not realising the cab had stopped.
"A person."
"Ughh!"
"Ma'am?" The taxi driver asked.
"What!?" She exclaimed, still letting the improper male get on her nerves.
"We're here."
"Oh, right. Thanks," she got out of the cab with one last evil glare at the man that sat next to her. Failing to notice him staring holes through her ass, Marissa confidently strutted down the sidewalk.
"She didn't even pay me." The driver noted angrily.
"Dumb ass," Ryan remarked, putting his headphones back in his ears and turning up the volume.
-
Marissa had just come out of make-up. Her face felt like it had a deflated balloon stuck to it and the literally, breath taking dress her body was draped in was being tightened by a middle aged gay man who kept whining about a coffee shop that served him a Mocha instead of a Cappuccino, because apparently they were "mocking him."
Marissa winced, as the dress was pulled tighter, she swore she thought a couple ribs cracked.
"I- I think my- my-" Marissa began but she was losing her breath.
"You think what honey?" The fitter asked.
"My ribs- I think they-" she swallowed hard and licked her dry lips.
"Cracked…I think they're crack-" without coherently finishing her sentence, Marissa fainted.
"Oh my god!" The gay dude gasped.
"What the hell happened?" A woman ran up to Marissa and checked her pulse.
"I don't know. She was going on about something that's cracked. Maybe she's on crack, so maybe she overdosed or something," he suggested unhelpfully.
"Call an ambulance," the woman ordered.
"Okay…" the whipped his cell phone out and went into a quiet corner. More and more people from the set gathered around the model with curiosity as to what happened.
"Is it anorexia?"
"I knew she was on something!"
"I saw her the other day with a salad…that went untouched!"
Everyone was filling each other in on their dose of gossip and speculation about the young twenty two year old.
"It's okay everyone! She's awake," someone at her side, shouted when Marissa's eyes slowly fluttered open.
"Are you on crack?!" The gay man asked her, his nose nearly touching hers. She moved back a bit, he was really beginning to creep her out.
"What? No! I'm fine," Marissa insisted, gradually getting to her feet.
"Look, Marissa, go get yourself checked out at the hospital and we'll re-schedule the shoot," the photographer said.
"I'm fine, I promise."
"We are not taking any chances sweetie, now go. Shoo! Be back at around 5 p.m. if you can, otherwise call me."
"Okay," Marissa said, steadying herself in the huge heels they had put her in and grabbing her own clothes.
Once dressed, Marissa caught a cab and made her way to a local doctors office.
Standing at the entrance, she realised she didn't have an appointment and she had no clue what Dr. to see. She dipped her hand into her clutch and pulled out her Blackberry. Not long later she came to the conclusion she wouldn't be able to guess the phone number, so she opened the door and bee lined for the receptionist.
"Uh, hi. My name is Marissa Cooper-"
"I know who you are," the snobby woman behind the desk interrupted.
"Right, okay then. Um, I have no appointment but-"
"If you don't have an appointment no Doctor can see to you. There's a room down there that you can go wait in," she pointed down a corridor.
"But here is an actual waiting room," Marissa looked at the room then at the bitchy receptionist.
"Yes. I see that," she pushed up her glasses on purpose then rolled her eyes.
Marissa sighed, "but why can't I wait in there with everyone else?"
"Because Miss Cooper, you are not a real patient."
Marissa held in her raging rant and headed down to the room of which the lady pointed to.
Coming to the closed door she knocked nervously, "hello?" Marissa asked. When no one responded she opened the door and dropped her clutch when she registered what her poor eyes were witnessing.
"Oh great, just great!" Marissa was staring right at the man from the taxi earlier that morning.
But of course he had no clue she was there, due to his ears being shattered by the shrilling music volume that was feeding from his black iPod.
He felt her eyes drilling holes in him and looked up. He started laughing and removed his headphones from his ears and turned off his iPod.
"You never know when mentally unstable women may attack," he mused as he placed it in his jeans pocket.
"Very funny," she gazed around the room, in search of a seat. But the only available one was right next to him.
"I don't bite," he reassured sarcastically.
"Why do I detect sarcasm?"
"Because I bite."
"When do you bite…or do I want to know?"
"You don't want to know."
"Right."
"Right," he echoed.
"Can you not copy me?" She asked.
"I was not copying you, unlike most of the anorexic population of America-" Ryan began.
"Hey! I am not anorexic; anorexia is a serious problem for many girls, and even some boys. I am just lucky, in that I have a fast metabolism and can eat whatever I want."
"Okay, little miss defensive. I was merely echoing what you said because my small, tragic, didn't-get-a-chance-to-develop-properly brain didn't have time to think of an amusing or witty reply before it was too long after what you initially said to actually say anything," said the male.
"Wow, I didn't think you had that many words in you."
"Neither."
"God, you're frustrating!" Marissa said, giving in and sitting next to him.
He laughed and held out his hand for her to shake, which she did, after hesitation.
"Since I know your name and my little brother masturbates over your picture I think I already know a bit about you. Marissa."
"Ew. I can see where he gets it from. Please tell him to stop and to like, never do that again!" Marissa screwed here face up at the thought.
"No, it's amusing."
"So you watch him?"
"Always."
"You better be using sarcasm."
"I am."
"Good. Because that's be sick," Marissa screwed her face once more.
"It would be."
"Do you ever speak more than five syllables...or without sarcasm?" Marissa questioned.
"Not that I'm aware of…Oh wait that was six."
Marissa rolled her eyes and sat back in a relaxed manner.
"What's your name?" Marissa asked not looking at him, she was playing with a loose thread on Adam's shirt.
No response.
"What is your name?!"
No response.
"Oh for gods sake! What is your name?!" She shouted.
After she received no response for the third time, she actually looked up and saw he was listening to his iPod again.
She yanked out his headphones like she had in the cab earlier and asked casually, "So, uh, what's your name?"
"Ryan. And if you do that again, so help me god!" Ryan held his hand out, waiting for her to give them back.
"No. Lets play a game," Marissa said getting up.
"A game? What are you eight?" Ryan asked.
"No, but I was at some point in my life," Marissa replied.
"Well what game do you plan on playing with two people, in a small room, with nothing but curtains and a random machine thing I can't quite figure out what it's supposed to be," Ryan said.
Marissa saw the thing he was talking about and approached it. Ryan joined her and poked it with his index finger.
"Don't touch it, you might break something," said Marissa who attempted to slap his hand away from the machine, while doing so, slapping and breaking the machine in the process.
Ryan started laughing, which annoyed Marissa, but what annoyed her more than him was the excessive beeping the machine was now making.
"What did you do?" She asked Ryan who was still laughing his ass off.
"Me? I did nothing, you're the one that slapped it."
"I was meant to slap you, you ass. But…Ugh!"
Ryan got himself together then picked up the machine, which only half of it was there. This confused Ryan until he heard something smashing to the ground.
"Look what you did Ryan!" Marissa yelled.
"Shut up, they'll hear you. And like I said before, I did nothing. You fucked it up in the first place."
"Well you fucked it up further!" Marissa even surprised herself with saying that. She never swore, she wasn't allowed to, it was in her contract. Which she remembers being really confused by…
"Woah! Okay, look here Marissa you slapped it, then half of it fell off-"
"Because you picked it up!"
"No! Because you bitch slapped it and it died, now it's beeping like a cop show."
"What? That makes no sense!"
"Yes it does. Cop shows always bleep out the cussing," Ryan explained.
"So are you saying the presumably dead machine is cussing?"
"What? Now you make no sense," Ryan replied.
"I always make sense…"
Ryan raised his eyebrows, "You call making sense when you take total stranger's iPod' away from them?"
"Why are you bringing that up again? I hate you!" Marissa exclaimed.
"Too bad, because I love you," Ryan sarcastically announced.
"I'm laughing on the inside," Marissa responded, with a blank expression.
"Really? Because my insides are crying."
"Oh my god. Do you ever shut the hell up?" Marissa asked.
"No."
Marissa widened her eyes in fury, "Do you realise how annoying you really are?"
"Yes. But doesn't mean I'm going to stop."
"There is seriously something wrong with you!" Marissa accused.
"I always had that theory."
Marissa snarled under her breath, but Ryan heard.
"You sound like a cat with so much constipation it's about to-"
"Please don't finish that sentence, you moron. Can we just have some silence? Please?" She pleaded.
"Okay, whatever you say…"
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
Marissa sighed heavily at the expense of the demented machine.
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
Ryan clenched his fist.
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
Marissa gritted her teeth.
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
Ryan pressed his lips against each other and ran his fingers through his short blonde hair.
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
"For goodness sake!" Marissa muttered.
"I thought you said you wanted silence," Ryan said.
"I do."
"Then why did you break it?"
"Just because! Shut up, now," Marissa told him.
"No."
"Oh my freakin' god, please go get some help."
"To mend the retarded machine you murdered?"
"No! Some professional help, like a psychiatrist," Marissa said.
"Heh, no thanks," replied Ryan.
"Are you blind?" She asked.
"Slightly."
Marissa started laughing for some reason, not at his comment but him in general.
"You're a freak!" She claimed.
"I know."
Marissa laughed again, "Seriously, you have issues."
"Again, I know," he replied.
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
"Oh shut the fuck up already!" Ryan told the machine.
"It's only doing that because you picked it up and half of it fell off."
"It only fell off because you slaughtered it beforehand," Ryan said.
"I did not slaughter it. I accidentally hit it."
"Who accidentally slaps machines in a reject doctors office? Oh I know! The same kind of person that would confiscate a strangers iPod!"
"Why do you keep bringing that up?" She asked, her anger boiling.
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
"Because I have no other material to ridicule you on," Ryan honestly said.
"Does your voice ever change? Has it ever changed? You seem to talk in one witty, random tone all the time."
"In fact, my voice has changed. When I was 13, on my Dads birthday one of his friends hired a stripper, and-"
"Don't finish. Please, spare me the details of your morbid childhood."
"Okay."
"You are really starting to get on my nerves!" Marissa said.
"Just now? But every time I look at you, you go red. Or is that just because you find me incredibly hot?"
Marissa didn't respond at first but then she said, "You're so full of it."
"Full of what exactly?"
"Jesus Christ," Marissa muttered.
"Are you praying? I didn't take you as the religious type," Ryan loved annoying her, anyway he could.
"It's a figure of speech dammit!"
"Damn what? Could you please define 'it' for me."
"I hate you, you know that?"
"Uh yeah, that's the second time you've told me that today."
"Doesn't it hurt you at all? That someone actually hates you?"
"You see, the thing is, I don't think you hate me. I just find it as being your excuse to descri-" Ryan was cut off mid-sentence by Marissa's lips.
"Wipe off your lip gloss, it tastes disgusting," Ryan requested.
"Ugh," Marissa pulled away from Ryan and smeared the gloss off her plump lips.
"Happy?" She asked.
"Very," he replied then kissed her again, letting his tongue intertwine with hers.
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep
"Just a second," Marissa said, she took off her shoes and threw them at the machine.
"Good one," Ryan remarked when the beeping sped up instead of stopping.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Marissa rolled her eyes, and leaned in again.
"Do you know what's more romantic than making out in a cubicle of a waiting room and having an excessive and now fast paced beeping in the background, is making out in a cubicle of a waiting room, having an excessive and now fast paced beeping in the background with the hundred year old curtains open and an old perve staring at us."
Marissa looked to the windows and saw the man Ryan was talking about.
"I don't know about you, but personally I love being watched by a seventy-something dude," Ryan told Marissa.
"Sarcasm?"
"Is it ever anything else?"
"Not really."
"Close the curtains and throw the beep bomb out the window," Ryan requested.
"Why can't you do it?"
"Because I can't be bothered."
"See this is why I hate you!"
"You hate me for being lazy?"
"Yes…no…I don't know. Leave me alone."
"So we're done making out?" Ryan asked a little disappointed.
"Uh-huh," Marissa got up and shut the curtains.
"I thought you said we weren't going to make out anymore, so what's the point in shutting the curtains?" Ryan questioned.
"So, I'm allowed a little privacy," Marissa argued.
"Privacy for what? Our incredible entertaining, no less annoying banter?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"I don't know; it was just a way to get away from you."
"I thought you loved me," Ryan dramatically stated.
"No, I love to hate you. It's totally different," Marissa replied.
"Ah."
"Ah? What's ah?" She asked, trying to annoy him and much as he did her.
"Not funny when you do it, sorry."
"You're not sorry."
"I know."
"Then why did you say it?" Marissa really didn't get him and his humour.
"Because it pisses you off," replied Ryan.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep
"Will that thing ever stop?" Marissa asked no one in particular, even though her and Ryan were the only ones in the room.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep
"You made it that way…"
"I did not!" Marissa yelled.
"Uh, yeah ya did," Ryan said.
"I'm over it, I don't get why I stayed this long to begin with. Neither of us are obviously going to get seen," Marissa pointed out.
"True, but our juvenile antics and banter make for reasonably good entertainment," Ryan replied.
Marissa smiled and suddenly a warm silence filled the room…that was soon interrupted by:
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep
"For the love of God!" Marissa exclaimed.
"Are you praying again?"
"I'm not praying," Marissa insisted.
"Sure your not."
Another silence summoned awkwardness between the two strangers.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep
"You wanna know what I think?" Ryan asked.
"You're going to tell me either way, right?"
"You know me well Marissa Cooper," mused Ryan.
"Well it doesn't take much longer than a few seconds to realise you're an ignorant buffoon," said Marissa.
"I'm sure that's true," Ryan agreed.
Marissa nodded then said, "So are you going to tell me?"
"Oh, yeah. I think that someone was bored so decided to aggravate two completely different people by placing them in a room with a severely fucked up machine which won't stop beeping."
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep
"Fair point," Marissa replied.
"The beeping is really just an intensity tool. You know? Like in a realistic situation this wouldn't have happened."
"I so get that. But what I don't get is why you're making actual sense."
"I always make sense."
"No you do not!" Marissa said.
"I make more sense than some random person I came across this morning, who if, and correct me if I am wrong, but I believe she took my own iPod off me. Can you believe it?"
"You need some better material."
"For now that will have to do. Since I can't think of anything else."
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep
"I will punch the remaining living daylights out of that thing if it doesn't stop soon," Ryan threatened.
"I'd like to see that," Marissa smirked.
"You'd like to see me injure the thingy so that you don't hold all the blame. Am I right?"
"Slightly."
"Well in that case I won't punch it. I won't serve you the satisfaction your looking for, you've got your boyfriend for that," Ryan laughed when Marissa squirmed uncomfortably.
"That's sick Ryan, real sick."
"That I'm aware of."
"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Marissa began.
"I know. I read that in US Weekly."
"Not literally you ass. I mean I'm hungry, so I'm gonna hit a McD's, you want to come?"
"No, McDonalds is disgusting," Ryan said.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep
"Gah!" Ryan exclaimed, he picked up the small machine and threw it on the hard floor.
After a few…dozen distorted beeps it lay to rest.
"We lost the patient," Ryan told Marissa.
Marissa laughed and opened the rooms' door, "Ready to go?"
"Yeah."
"Back to the moderate syllables aye?" Marissa inquired.
"Yep."
"So this is how you wanna play it, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Now you're just doing it on purpose."
"How else do I ever do it?" Ryan asked.
"You're so frustrating, like REALLY frustrating."
"So I've been told."
"Why am I not surprised?" Marissa asked.
"I dunno. You don't seem to get surprised often," Ryan responded.
"I should have ditched you a while back," Marissa said sarcastically.
"I said to myself the exact same thing," Ryan said.
"Really?"
"Really!"
"That's real nice of you Ryan," sarcasm was present in her tone.
"I know. I'm just full of fluffy things."
"Ha. Yeah right Mr. 'I'm so-"
"I'm so what?" Ryan interjected.
"Doesn't matter," Marissa said.
After walking for a little longer, Ryan and Marissa came to one of the many McDonalds around.
"This is me," Marissa said, turning so that she was face to face with Ryan.
"Yeah…"
"So it's been…Er…nice?"
Ryan laughed softly, "It's certainly been an interesting start to the day…Marissa."
"Uh, so I'll see you around?"
"I think I'll see more of you than you of me."
"Ya," Marissa replied.
"Oh my god! Marissa Cooper!! It's really YOU!!!" A screaming fan came from behind.
"Yeah, it's me," she replied, somewhat disturbed.
The fan began to take things out of her bag for Marissa to sign, which Marissa did. But when she looked up, Ryan wasn't there, all there was, was a small piece of paper fluttering in the wind. Marissa picked it up and read what it said. She smiled as she realised it was Ryan's phone number.
Good thing, seeing as how she still had his iPod.
Finished.
It was mental…but I was bored like you wouldn't believe and my dad was bitching to me so I needed to distract myself. Hence the random one shot that no one will probably leave a review for. BTW, only quickly edited, so all mistakes are mine, and I'm sure there are loads of them.