Title: Waiting for the Light

Author: Heath07

Rating: PG-13 -this is very much gooey and fluffy and sap-alicious, with a hint of angst for good measure. SLASH Ryan/Seth

Summary: The dark can be a scary place, especially when you're plagued by nightmares.

Disclaimer: I do not own either Ryan or Seth or any part of Fox's The O.C. because if I did...well let's just say there would be way more pool scenes and more nakedness in general. lol

Feedback: Please. Thank you to everyone who has ever replied and those that continue to reply.

Notes: I know I've done this subject matter before in a roundabout way, but I just started writing and this is what happened. I still don't know why I torture Ryan. It could be a Freudian thing. Hmm.... LOL Stick a fork in me people, I'm done!

Waiting for the Light

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He always felt him coming before he ever heard the door creak open and his name whispered in the dark. He guessed by now Ryan was on the stairs, stepping up and then down a few times, debating whether to make the journey the whole way to Seth's room.

Seth couldn't tell, if asked, how exactly he knew Ryan had just woken up from a nightmare, but somehow he could. He was ripped out of calm sleep on more nights than not with a wave of panic and when he opened his eyes, he knew Ryan would be coming to his room in a few minutes. It was like they were connected on some subconscious level that defied logic and nature.

It didn't matter all that much how he knew Ryan would be coming to him, what mattered was the comfort he offered when he got there. He prepared in the brief respite before Ryan would tap open his door and fall into his bed. First he'd go to the bathroom and wet a cloth with cold water to dab away the sweat that would coat the other boy, and then he would turn on his CD player-not to play music, just for a little light so Ryan wouldn't stumble in the dark. He'd set the facecloth on the night table and hop back into bed, pushed over to one side, so Ryan would have enough room to be comfortable. Then he'd close his eyes and wait.

Waiting was the hard part. Ryan always silently debated on the stairwell-Seth only knew that because once, before he found out about the nightmares and before Ryan was brave enough to ask for support, he'd caught him white-knuckling the railing and staring longingly at his door, muttering to himself. So waiting was always difficult, but in the end, he knew Ryan would gently knock before stepping into his room and clutching onto him like a lifeline.

The first time was probably the hardest. Seth had been naïve and foolish about the whole thing and wound up just embarrassing Ryan in the process. Since then, he'd learned what to do, what to say or what not to say and how to touch him. Lately, the touching had become less and less comforting and more and more sexual and that scared the shit out of Seth. Not that he didn't like Ryan like that, because he did. A lot. Maybe even loved him. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that before they went any farther he had to know.

Even now, though, his own callowness stopped him from asking the important questions. Without time and experience by his side, he was a blank slate without advice to give. He knew, though, Ryan didn't want advice, or pity, or even words. What Ryan needed was a friend. Someone to sympathize and hold him, just until he felt safe again. He could do that for now. Maybe, forever.

Seth got out of bed and got everything ready and then, yawning, got back into bed and waited.

Less than a minute later, just as Seth was pulling a sheet on his lower body, he heard a squeak from the floorboard. Then there was a deep inhale of breath and a short punched knock. Seth could make out the erratic rhythm of Ryan's breathing even from outside the door. He was always so unstable after one of his nightmares.

"Seth?" Ryan's voice was so small, so insecure compared to the confident creature he was in daylight.

"Shh," he soothed. "Come on." Seth patted the space beside him and waved Ryan over.

Closing the door, Ryan padded across the room and tumbled into bed next to Seth.

Seth immediately pulled Ryan closer and kissed his temple. "A bad one?" he asked into the darkness.

He felt Ryan nod against his chest as he gripped his shirt between his fingers tighter.

Reaching a long arm out, Seth snagged the wash cloth and tenderly swiped it against Ryan's sweaty neck. "You're okay," he whispered against his ear, damp blonde hair brushing his lips.

Seth wondered if it was possible to smell tears-he knew he could. The scent was a mixture of torture and sea salt and an earthy sorrow. Ryan always smelt like tears, but Seth had never actually seen him cry-or at least not the type of crying Seth would be doing if he was burdened by Ryan's memories. When Ryan cried, Seth's chest felt too tight and he couldn't breath. He wished he'd just sob and wail instead of silently suffering and trying to be a 'man' about it. Ryan needed that. Needed to let it all out. Seth waited, with patience, for that day to come.

The next few minutes were always tricky. There was more waiting. Ryan wasn't always lucid. He usually couldn't hear a thing Seth said to him, he'd just cling to him like his life depended on it and Seth, in turn, would pull him close and rub his cotton-covered back in long strokes and wipe his forehead and cheeks with calm earnestness.

It was half-an-hour before Seth ventured to speak. "Talk to me, Ryan." He brushed the hair from Ryan's forehead and smoothed his hand down his cheek to his chin, propping it up so he was forced to look Seth in the eye.

Ryan just closed his eyes and shook his head no.

There wasn't much Seth could do to argue, so he just did what he always did and held him tighter. He cradled his head in his palm and traced the back of Ryan's damp neck with his thumb.

Seth's lips brushed Ryan's temple and his fingers slipped under the wife-beater he was wearing. His touches were slow, circular and consoling.

Seth knew Ryan's body as well as he knew his own. He knew every muscle, every inch of tan skin, every scar and burn mark and every bruise; every shimmer of beauty and every flash of pain, especially in his eyes. There were times when Ryan looked at him and it made him blush from the desire he saw etched there and at other times it made him ache from the pain that welled up alongside those silent tears.

It seemed at times that there were no secrets between them and at others like they were mere strangers. Seth didn't know what to do about it, but he knew forcing Ryan to talk was the wrong thing.

It was always like this between them, just below the surface the tension bubbled from so many things that went unsaid. The fear and frustration, the love and caring, the anticipation and yearning. The understanding that no matter how much Seth tried to pretend, he could never really take the hurt away-not entirely. And that pissed him off. Not because he wanted Ryan to confess every deep dark secret--there was that, too--but because, he wanted to smash and break people and things that weren't tangible. He knew, deep down, that you can't fight ghosts and memories the same way they'd fought the water polo team that night on the beach, it just doesn't work, but that didn't stop his brain from wanting to.

Sometimes, with Ryan's hot skin under his hand, Seth's only urge was to roll him over and kiss away all the pain, inch by inch. Sometimes, he thought a better solution would be to make love to him. Slow and sensual. Fast and unsteady. It really didn't matter which because the end result would be a smile from lips that trembled too often with anguish. A smile at midnight from Ryan would bring a mirror image to Seth's face, he was sure.

Rolling them over, Seth rested his weight on his elbows and looked down at Ryan. Trusting blue-gray eyes reflected back at him. Seth lowered his mouth to Ryan's jaw and kissed gently down to the column of his throat, lapping at the sweaty hollow between his collarbone.

Ryan shuddered.

"I know," Seth soothed, when he felt the tremor go through Ryan. "I know you're hurting and I can't just make it go away, but I can try, if you let me. Just let me try, Ryan."

Ryan arched into him, his hips rising from the mattress. It was sudden and then desperate as his body wiggled under Seth and his hands found bare skin under fabric.

"Ryan."

His name pulled him back, his eyes glistened dangerously dark.

"I'm damaged. Broken goods," Ryan whispered, attempting humour and failing miserably. He shook his head vehemently. "You don't want to know. You don't."

"I do," Seth promised, lifting the corners of Ryan's shirt and then peeling the damp material off over the other boy's head. "It's okay. You're safe now. You don't have to be afraid."

He kissed him softly on the mouth, just a hint of need at the corner of his lips and then he kissed him with more power, more promise.

Ryan whispered words that sounded like 'beatingsohgodsomuchpain', and 'touchingandhurtingmeallover' and 'feelsoalonemakeitstopplease'. Words that could have power in the dark, but Seth wouldn't let them. Seth vowed to erase and eradicate every bad memory with his lips, tongue, touch and voice.

"You're safe," he repeated over and over, until he thought Ryan believed him and then said it again and again to be sure.

A languid calm came over Ryan. He made little whimpering sounds and moved around on the bed like he didn't know what to do until those whimpers became moans and it became apparent how much he wanted this moment; how much he wanted Seth.

Seth's hand snaked in between them and he touched Ryan gently, reverently, as if he was putting him back together with each caress. And maybe he was.

It was like torture, touching like this. So soft and deep and passionate-right to the pit of their souls, like they were becoming unhinged.

They were always so careful, so aware of what could happen if they were caught. Ryan didn't sleep well without Seth--he told him that once--and for that very reason, Seth was quiet and focussed and never really joked. Sometimes they could touch the whole night and sometimes just for a little while and then they dozed off, but it always equated the same feeling of wholeness.

A new emotion splintered in Ryan's eyes. "I love you," Ryan whispered, his voice shaking, his fingers twining in Seth's curls. Just like that, he said it.

The statement--one Ryan didn't make lightly--struck Seth right in the stomach. He expelled a long breath and squeezed his eyes together, just in case he was dreaming. When he opened them Ryan was looking at him, panicked.

Seth drove down the urge to possess. To take. Instead, he rolled onto his side of the bed and pulled Ryan against him. He held him tight to his chest and kissed his neck, listening to a sleepy sigh escape him.

This is what Ryan did for him-he made him feel needed, made him feel love like a rain shower in the hot summer. He just, simply, made him feel alive. Seth could do this for him; could hold him and protect him from nightmares in the circle of his embrace. He could make the world a safer place and he could make him feel just as loved.

Ryan's chest rose and fell with steady breaths. Seth could feel his heartbeat even and strong against him and he knew he was just about asleep. "I love you, too."

Ryan took his hand and twined their fingers together and then rested them against his heart. "Don't leave me. Ever."

Seth swallowed hard, emotion coating his throat. "I won't."

Waiting had always been the hard part and Seth had never been very patient, but he knew when something was worth it and Ryan was definitely worth waiting for.

Seth reached over and found the remote for the CD player and turned it off. The light wasn't needed anymore, Ryan wouldn't stumble in the dark ever again.

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end.