Title: The Game
Author: Kate Monster
Rating: PG to be safe
Summary: Set between "The Secret" and "The Best Chrismukkah Ever". The fall soccer season is over, and it's time to... celebrate? Or at least shake things up a little.
Disclaimer: Characters by the great and powerful Josh Schwartz. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.

Any time you ordered mushrooms on a pizza, they came lengthwise, sliced into little treelike shapes.  Ryan used to think he hated mushrooms, until he tried the sauteed mushrooms from the Italian place the Cohens liked to order from, and found that he had been mistaken, and he actually liked mushrooms a great deal.  He figured he had always been turned off by their appearance, and by the fifth grade science class where he'd learned they were a fungus.

Now, he found himself staring at a slice of mushroom pizza and couldn't for the life of him figure out why he thought he liked mushrooms.  Now, his appetite was quickly dwindling.

Around him were the grunts and slurps of sixteen hungry soccer players, and he didn't want to look at a one of them.  He'd hoped the whole soccer thing would help him make friends, but all it had done for him socially was to reinforce the fact that his multiple identities as the kid from Chino who burned a house down and Seth Cohen's best friend were not necessarily prime socialization designations.

At least in Chino he'd been a loner by choice, and most kids stood back or learned quickly to either leave him alone or suffer the consequences.  Now there were several teammates at his table whose asses he would gladly kick, but could only do so if he wanted a free ride back into state custody.  So he took it - the whispered insults, the stares, the snubbing.  Crude jokes about Marissa Cooper trading downwards for a ride she could actually afford.  That one had quite nearly cost him his freedom, Nordland was so helpfully standing beside the brick wall of the locker room at Del Vista and Ryan could have slammed him in to it.

But he didn't.

He sat now at Coach's left side.  A position that could have been mistaken for an honor, and Coach tried to pretend it was, but Ryan knew the truth.  He wanted to keep an eye on him.  He wanted to know who Ryan talked to, what they said to him.  He thought Ryan didn't know about the team meeting in October the day he was home sick with a fever, where Coach reamed the rest of the team out.  He told them to quit harassing Ryan and give him the ball once in a goddamn while if they wanted to win this year.  It hadn't worked, they came in fifth in the league, and this whole postseason pizza celebration seemed somehow anticlimactic.

"Hey, Ch - uh, Ryan, give me the Parmesan."  Ryan looked up and silently slid the cheese shaker towards Patrick, who apparently did know after all that his name was Ryan and not Chino.  Ryan had been wondering for awhile if he really did.  Still, as far as nicknames went, it could have been worse.  He still thanked his lucky stars that they'd never heard the jackass at Chino Hills who used to call him Smackwood, and also that Nordland's proposed Crapwood hadn't stuck.

"You even gonna eat that?"

Ryan looked across the table with surprise to Luke, who had gone the entire season without exchanging a single conversational word with him, at practice or at games.  In fact, despite the fact that his old friends were pretty much shunning him as a rule now, Luke still managed to completely avoid letting on that he would have anything to do with Ryan Atwood.  It was almost a talent.

"Not hungry, I guess," Ryan said.

"Oh."  Luke picked up his pepperoni slice and took another bite.

"You kids stay put," Coach said, and hauled off for the bathroom.  Perplexed, Ryan watched him go and braced for the worst.

But it didn't happen. 

"You comin' to the party tonight?" Luke asked innocently.

Ryan glanced around to be sure Luke was speaking to him.  "No, I don't think so," he said carefully.

"Why not?  Season closer party.  It'd be fun."

He blinked.  "Fun?" he repeated, not sure he'd heard right.

"Yeah.  Saunders' place is awesome.  He's got a pool table and a pinball machine."

A pinball-?  "I got plans," Ryan said.

Luke's face fell.  "Oh.  Well, bring Marissa."

"Not her," he said.  "Uh - she's at her mom's tonight.  Me and Seth."

Thomas leaned over.  "Yeah, what's up with you two?  Are you married or somethin'?  Maybe Luke's dad can give you tips."

Ryan tried not to wince.  "So.  Anyway.  I don't think Seth wants to come."

Thomas snorted at that, which struck Ryan as rather juvenile, especially since he knew from locker room conversation that Thomas was still a virgin.  Oh, he said he wasn't, of course, but if he fooled most of the team, Ryan wasn't buying it.

Ryan set his jaw and pressed on.  "I'm not really in to parties."

Luke appeared slightly concerned at that.  "But it's for the whole team, man.  You're on the team, you gotta come."

"Plans," Ryan said again simply.

"So?  Bring Cohen."

Ryan's eyes widened.  "To the soccer party," he repeated slowly, as if he hadn't heard properly.

"Why not?"  Luke asked.

Had he not spent the past ten years in school with Seth every day?  Ryan stared at him.  "Why not?" he echoed.

"Yeah.  He came to half the games."

Ryan didn't even blink.  "Yeah.  And seventy-five percent of this team has tried to kick his ass, or piss in his shoes at some point in the past three years."

The voices around him seemed to be falling silent.  Ryan knew this couldn't be good.  He poked at a mushroom with his fork, hoping Coach would return soon.  It was a hope he was ashamed of, but nevertheless there it was.

"Like you don't want to kick his ass," Javier scoffed.

"Not like you do," Ryan shot back.  "And not like I want to kick yours."

"Whoa," Luke said, alarmed.  "Whoa, Chino.  Chill out."

Ryan shook his head and cut off a piece of mushroom-free pizza with his fork.  "I'm not goin' to the party," he muttered.

He was aware of heads quickly looking away from him and could tell without seeing that Coach had returned.

"Be right back," he said quietly as Coach sat down beside him, and he dropped his fork to the plate with a loud clatter, shoved his chair back, and bolted for the restroom.

He didn't really need to pee, he just needed to take a breather from the assholes long enough to take his blood pressure down a bit.  He'd made it through a whole season of this.  He could last through twenty more minutes of pizza.

The door opened again, and he cast an apprehensive sideways glance only to discover Luke.

"Hey, man, you gotta come tonight," Luke said.

"Asking me to a party in the men's room?  Luke."  He shook his head and stepped back.  "Luke.  C'mon, like you don't have enough gossip to deal with."

Luke blinked.  "Right.  Okay.  No.  Leave the funny up to Cohen.  And bring him already.  I can't be the only team outcast."

"Why not?  I was doing fine in that category till you got ostracized," Ryan pointed out.

Luke leaned back against the door.  "And I'm still showing my face tonight. And you should, too.  Whether those guys out there like it or not, we are on the same team."

"I don't know what team you were on?  But I could barely get my cleats on the ball outside of drill practice."

"So they're dicks.  Yeah.  They're still our teammates."

"Uh huh.  And I'm not a team player."

"So I hear."

Ryan rolled his eyes.  "I don't give a rat's ass if you go or not, Luke.  Could you just do me a favor and fuck off, now?  Please?"

"Don't you want to stick their noses in their own shit?  For once?"

Ryan narrowed his eyes and scratched his neck.  "Yeah?  You got a plan?"

"If I did, would you come?"

Bluffing.  Ryan took another step back and folded his arms.  "Depends on the plan."

The corners of Luke's mouth turned up.  "Okay.  Plan.  Hold on."

Ryan grabbed for a paper towel.  "Let me know when you got one, then."  He wadded and tossed it at the garbage can, sinking it from six feet.  This year, soccer team, next year - basketball?  Of course, the basketball team was full of assholes, too.  In fact, team sports at Harbor were pretty much a cesspool.  Then again, there was always cross country.  Track.  Swimming. 

He had plenty of time to mull it over.  Nobody at the dinner table would be talking to him, after all.

*

Ryan hefted his bag over his shoulder as he struggled up the driveway.  He didn't even want to look back at Coach's car.

He hesitated at the top of the driveway.  Usually he'd just duck around the gardenias to the pool house straight off, but he needed to find Seth quickly.  After a moment, he turned to his right and fumbled with his bag as he reached for the door.  He fished his keys out and reached for the doorknob.  Open.  He dropped his keys back into the bag.

Ryan bounded over the steps and set off for the kitchen, determined.  "Seth?"  The kitchen was empty.  Ryan opened the fridge, pulled out a cranberry juice, and poked his head into the TV room.  Nobody, although Dynasty Warriors was back in the console, which meant Seth was home since they'd been playing Gran Turismo the night before.

He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, nearly colliding with Rosa on the way. 

"Uh, sorry," he breathed.  She always made him just a little uncomfortable for some reason.

"No problem," she said dully in her punctuated accent, and Ryan charged up the stairs with relief, taking two at a time.

The sounds of The White Stripes led him down the hall to Seth's room, where he barged in without knocking.  Seth had his back to the door, surfing the internet.

"Yeah," Ryan said breathlessly, "so, you know that Red Dwarf marathon?"

Seth turned in his seat.  "No.  You are not bailing on me again, you are going to appreciate the comedy stylings of Grant Naylor if it kills me.  Or you."

"Well," he said, leaning against the wall.  "How'd you feel about getting smashed with a bunch of beefy soccer players?"

Seth blinked at him.  "Sounds... great?"

"Knew you'd think so."

"Uh, for the record, that was sarcasm.  C'mon, what's wrong with a little British humor?  Ben and Jerry's, chips and salsa?  It's unbeatable.  Soccer players and beer, are you kidding me?"

Ryan shifted the weight of his bag.  "I kinda have to go.  It's the end-of-season party."

"No way.  No.  You go.  Me and the misfit crew of the Red Dwarf, that's where the real party will be.  Smeghead."

Ryan squinted at him.  "I can't go to this thing by myself.  And Marissa's busy."

"So I'm your second choice now?"

"...Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?  Dude.  Okay.  Look.  I blew off Summer and Anna for you and Red Dwarf tonight."

Ryan shook his head, not wanting to touch that one.  "I know.  I'm sorry.  But Luke really wants me to go."

Seth stared at Ryan for a moment in disbelief.  "Oh, wait, sorry.  Of course.  If Luke asks..."

"He says we have to show face.  And he's right.  Misfits united.  You, too."

"Since when does Luke qualify as a misfit?"

"Have you seen the way everybody's avoiding him?"

"Hadn't noticed," Seth said, sniffing.

Ryan sighed.  "C'mon.  It'll suck, but Chip Saunders is providing the keg, so it's free beer at his expense.  We'll make fun of everybody and leave."  He shrugged hopefully.  Could be up Seth's alley...

Seth's eyes narrowed.  "Ryan.  They'll kick my ass."

"No.  They won't.  Luke and I might be misfits, but nobody's beating us up.  Not on our team, anyway... we could kick everybody else's ass, and they know it."

"When you go to the bathroom.  They'll kick my ass then."

"Seth," Ryan said plaintively.

"What?  Now I'm supposed to enjoy ass-kickings?"

"If anybody kicks your ass, I'll... I'll... you can kick mine."

"Yeah.  Sure I will.  Uh huh."

"Look," Ryan sighed.  "Forget it.  You, me, Red Dwarf. Fine."  He turned to leave.

"Dude.  Why is this so important to you?  I thought you didn't care about the team."

He turned back around.  "Cause I think maybe Luke was right.  I gotta have some pride."

Seth sighed.  "And you can't just go by yourself."

Ryan opened and then closed his mouth.  "No," he said finally, looking down.  "I guess I can't."

Seth rolled his eyes.  "I should not be doing this."

"But - wait -"

"Where is it?"

"Saunders' house."

Seth sucked in his lip as he pondered.  "We don't even need a car, they're walking distance to here."

Ryan looked at him hopefully.  "So... you're in?"

"I should so not be doing this - you know, I hope you remember this.  Some day when I need a favor."

Ryan clapped him on the back.  "Or, could be we're even."  He strode out of the room.

Seth's eyes widened in alarm as they followed him.  "What?  Hey - what's that all about?"  But Ryan only waved a dismissive hand in the air as he disappeared around the corner.