Disclaimer: The O.C., Ryan Atwood and Taylor Townsend don't belong to me.
Summary: Ryan and Taylor are complete strangers who have been entered into a cooking competition. As if the cooking wasn't hard enough, I'd imagine sharing a kitchen with each other wouldn't be much easier. RT. AU.
With the awesome-ass reviews I got for my other RT fic, it gave me some serious inspiration. Hence this, completely random one shot. Enjoy and review.
Taylor Townsend walked triumphantly from her car – that was perfectly parked in the lot – and into the large building in front of her which she presumed was where she was supposed to go.
Smiling brightly at the beauty of the day, Taylor ran over the recipe for peach tortes in her head.
She came to a door and pushed it open with the tips of her fingers. Taylor followed the corridor until she came to an elevator. After a small wait, the automatic doors slipped open and she made her way into the corner of the lift.
The doors were about to close, but a male was running up to the elevator. Taylor decided she wasn't going to let him in; she'd seen too many soap operas with a man and a woman together in a lift. It usually ended in sex. And she was not in the mood for that. Not when she had peach tortes to officiate.
Looking aimlessly up at the higher part of the elevator's interior, Taylor pretended to ignore the man who was calling for her to hold the doors open.
They were mere centimeters from closing, and Taylor smirked within herself.
"Thanks for holding them open. I don't know what I'd do without your helping hands." Taylor was startled by a deep voice, she looked to her right, and sure enough the man she was trying to keep out of the elevator was standing right next to her.
"Uh…"
"I know that standing in an elevator with some stranger is a pain in the ass, but really, when you see them coming, and they see you: at least feign some sense of kindness, because now in my eyes, you come across as…well, truthfully, sort of a freak."
"That was one hell of a confidence boost. Keep them coming!" Taylor sarcastically retorted.
"Okay, remember the part when I said, you're sort of a freak? I take that back." Taylor smiled, but didn't expect his next words. "Now I'm positive you're a freak." Taylor rolled her eyes and avoided his stare.
The elevator stopped and the doors unfastened, letting the two go their separate ways. Too bad they were both heading in the same direction.
"Why are you following me, you creep," Taylor accused.
"Oh believe me! I am not following you. It's really just an annoying coincidence that I have to spend anymore time with you than necessary."
"Again with the confidence boots, you really have a handle on them."
"I know. I really am amazing."
Taylor ignored his comment and went on walking to the kitchen she was assigned.
The blonde woman came to door number 714 and twisted the. Entering the flash kitchen she was approached by a man in his mid-forties. "You must be Taylor. Am I right?"
She grinned. "Yes, that's me."
"Okay, well, I'm afraid to say that you'll have to share this kitchen with another competitor."
Taylor's face fell. "Who?"
"Ah," the man looked at a list of names he had printed on a piece of paper, "…Ryan. Ryan Atwood."
"He doesn't sound too bad," Taylor thought out loud. Then he appeared. And Taylor immediately had a change in heart. It was him. Yes, that him.
"What are you doing in here? Are you sure you're not stalking me?" Taylor asked the man from the elevator.
"As much as I'd love to give you the satisfaction of someone actually wanting to be near you, no is my answer – I'm not stalking you."
"Oh, so you two already know each other?" the coordinator asked.
"Much to my dismay," elevator guy responded.
The coordinator possessed a puzzled expression. "Well I'm going to leave you alone. The rest of the contestants are already in their kitchens. The timer will buzz when, your, er, time is up."
"How advanced. I didn't know timers could actually do something like that," Ryan interjected. Deserving a severe eye roll from Taylor.
"Be careful, your eye balls may not make it back around the next time you plan on doing that," elevator guy said to Taylor.
"Oh, you comedian, you," Taylor joked.
"I know. The comical aspect of my personality really is the wind to your sails."
"Uh, I hate to interrupt you two, but the clock has started," the coordinator said before leaving them to it.
There had been silence for the last 5 minutes, which Taylor found odd, considering who she was occupying the room with her. Then she smelt burning toast and it all came into light; his culinary delight was going terribly, and he couldn't be smug and remark on how much hers sucked.
"What?" he asked when Taylor started laughing out loud.
Embarrassed, she recovered with, "Whatever you're cooking is smelling absolutely delightful, and I was just laughing at the fact mine is not going as perfectly well as yours."
He shifted his position awkwardly. "I didn't know you had it in you; your inner bitch is skiting its way-"
"Oh shut up," Taylor cut him off mid sentence.
"I like a woman that puts me in my place…" Ryan said, pervertedly on purpose.
"Oh I'll put you in your place all right. How does the freezer sound? Maybe then your balls could freeze and this conversation could be a bit more feminine. Or what about the oven? Aye? Cook them so they shrivel up. You wouldn't have much to skite about then would you now?"
"You really have to work on your insults – slash – threats. That was extremely original and I'm disappointed," he retorted, not affected at all by what she had previously said.
Taylor muttered angrily to herself.
"And for your information: I burned the toast on purpose."
"So now you're admitting you burnt it?" Taylor inquired.
"Uh, yeah."
"How do you make my best attempts at insulting you seem so trivial?" Taylor asked.
"Because I'm awesome," Ryan replied matter-of-factly.
Taylor snickered, "Sure, okay…"
The man narrowed his eyes and picked up his burnt toast and threw it in her peach torte mixture.
"Please tell me you didn't just do that."
"I just did that."
Taylor was fuming. She placed her hands in the mix and made sure she had a huge glob of it on her. Taylor flipped it upwards and covered him in it.
"Bitch," Ryan breathed, wiping the contents off his face. "You're so gonna get it."
"Really?" Taylor asked smugly.
"Yeah, really," Ryan replied as he poured milk on her.
Drenched in the white liquid Taylor looked at Ryan who was laughing outrageously. "That was so uncalled for," she stated.
Ryan shrugged; grabbing an egg she was yet to add to her bowl and chucked it at her.
"Oh my god, you're have serious issues," Taylor told him. She then crazily began to throw peaches at him. Each one being incredibly soft, they were splattering all over him.
Just as he was beginning to gain his bearings, she flittered sugar over his head.
"That was a mistake," he said, grasping a block of cheese and hitting her with it. Taylor pushed him away and his back hit the element.
"Ow," Ryan moaned.
Taylor smirked, until she realized he was on fire. "You're burning! You're burning! We're all going to die!" Taylor wailed.
Taylor grabbed the rest of the mix from her bowl and threw it onto him, along with a whole carton of milk. The flame had gone, but she was still running around madly and flinging her arms wildly in the air.
"Relax already, I'm fine," Ryan said, amused.
The timer went off and the coordinator came in with a bright, optimistic smile. That is until he saw the state of the two contestants.
"What the hell happened?"
"Sweet potatoes, just aren't as sweet as they used to be," Ryan lied in a casual tone.
The coordinator looked to Taylor, then back to Ryan. "As much as I'd love to believe that, I don't," he said bluntly.
"Go get cleaned up…the go home."
"So I didn't win anything?" Taylor asked, disappointed.
"Oh, yes you did win something." Taylor looked up brightly. "You won the time I have clearly wasted entering you two into this competition."
Taylor sighed, while Ryan started laughing. "That was so lame. Did you practise that, or was it a spur of the moment thing that sounded good in your head?"
The man shuffled around a bit uncomfortably and obviously embarrassed.
"Thank you for your time sir," Taylor said. She picked up her handbag and began to make her way out of the room.
"Later," Ryan said. He soon joined Taylor in the corridor. "Thanks to you; I have to have another shower when I get home," Ryan told Taylor.
"What a tragedy, I don't know how you sleep at night with that hanging over your head."
"I'd rather have that over my head than your peach and sugar." Ryan removed a clump of the said ingredients and plopped it onto the floor.
"Good one," Taylor remarked.
"I know."
Taylor rolled her eyes.
"Now remember what I told you? You don't want your eyeballs to get lost on the way around, so I'd take precaution when-"
"I get it, thank you very much."
"You're welcome." Taylor sighed. How him saying something so simple aggravated her so much she did not know.
"Pleasure cooking with you, Mr. Atwood," Taylor held out her hand for him to shake. He did so. "The feeling's mutual, Mrs. Townsend."
"I'm not married," she pointed out.
"Why am I not surprised?" Ryan asked. She shoved him playfully. But he ended up hitting a car.
"Why do you insist on doing that? Something bad happens every time."
Taylor smirked, "That's why I do it."
Ryan stopped suddenly, which confused Taylor. She watched as he fished out a pen from his pocket. He began writing on her palm.
Once he was done he said, "Just in case one day you feel like burning my balls." Taylor watched him walk away. She didn't know whether to be disturbed by his comment, or touched. She got into her car, a smile playing on her lips for the whole ride home.
Fin.
Another pointless Ryan and Taylor one shot. I'm bored and can't be bothered doing a proper edit, so sorry for all my mistakes. lol. Please, please, PLEASE review! Thanks for reading. :D