A/N: Okay, so I began this story a fairly long time ago, so not everything in this story is going to match up with what has happened on the show. I used to change it to fit the events of each new episode, but that was just too confusing, and too much of a hassle. So, in this story, Summer and Seth are a couple, but Summer doesn't acknowledge him in public, and her reason for doing so is different from the one she tells Anna. Ryan and Marissa are broken up, and Marissa is now considering them "friends." Luke is still sort of a member of their group, but Seth still has major disdain for the guy. Oliver's gone, but Anna and Teresa are still hanging around.
In addition, and this is *very important*: This story is incredibly similar plot-wise to a story written by crazybeef entitled "Rainbows are Lame and Leperchauns are Freaky." I have already discussed this matter with the author, and she is fine with me posting this story, and has even become my wonderful, extraordinary beta reader. So, there's no controversy there.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Cohens, Ryan, Luke, Summer, Marissa, etc. They all belong to FOX and Josh Schwartz and all that. However, I do claim Adam Brody as my TV boyfriend, and Peter Gallagher, despite our huge age difference, remains the runner up in that category.
And here goes….
Chapter 1
Ryan was sitting at the kitchen counter quietly munching his corn flakes when Seth shuffled into the room.
"Wow, man. You look like crap," Ryan remarked, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
Ryan, however tactless, was correct. Seth did indeed look crappy. Lately he had seemed more worn down, but it had never been as extreme as that particular morning. There were dark circles under both bloodshot eyes, his body was scrunched up into itself, giving him a scrawny, vulnerable, appearance, his hair had gone from uncontrollable to obscene, and his face was a deeply pale color, though his cheeks were a bit flushed. He was clad only in a robe, a blue t-shirt, and boxers, though if they wanted to get to school on time they'd have to get out the door in a few minutes.
"You're a real sweet talker, you know that Atwood?" Seth grumbled, scooping a handful of cereal out of the box, then dropping it back in, apparently deciding he wasn't hungry. He sighed. "Actually, I'm really not feeling all that super today, but let's keep that on the hush-hush down-low, huh?"
Ryan narrowed his eyes curiously. "Usually you'd jump at the chance to stay home from school. The one day you're actually sick, I'd expect you to be milking it for all it's worth." Ryan took a swig of coffee.
Seth slumped down onto a chair beside Ryan. "That, my friend, was before Summer and I had sex, not once, not three times…but twice." Seth held up two fingers weakly. "I suppose we're dating, but considering the fact that she does not acknowledge my existence in public, it's probably not the best idea to ditch school today….you know…out of sight, out of mind?" Seth ran a weary hand through his hair. "Musn't have some other lad swooping in to steal my lady."
"Whatever," Ryan mumbled with a shrug. He was still slightly concerned about the welfare of his brother, but that was probably just his older brother protective instincts.
"Morning boys," came Sandy's cheerful voice as he hurried into the kitchen, throwing open a cabinet and grabbing a mug. "Seth, you'd better get dressed in the next two minutes. We've gotta go, Big Guy."
"I'll wait and have Mom take me or something. I can be late." Seth sighed.
"No can do, kiddo. Mom's at the airport. Big business trip for Caleb and..Kikki." Sandy almost spat the last word.
Sandy turned around to face his son. He was instantly taken aback. What had mildly concerned Ryan, bothered him a little more. Seth was looking positively gaunt, but Sandy reminded himself to keep his worry in check. He was an extreme hypochondriac, but mostly when it concerned Seth or Kirsten, rather than himself. Seth could have a hangnail, and he'd probably call Poison Control.
"You feeling okay, Seth?" Sandy asked cautiously. "You look beat."
"I'm really feeling the love this morning," Seth groaned, drumming his fingers on the counter. He gave his dad a reassuring but annoyed smile. "I'm fine," he said.
"You sure?" Sandy reached over and placed the back of his hand on Seth's forehead gently. "You feel a little warm."
"Dad, I'm fine." Seth swatted away his hand.
"You could stay home today. I could ditch work…we'll make a day of it. Play Playstation, watch all those "Dukes of Hazzard," tapes..whatever." Sandy grinned, starting to enjoy the idea of letting go of work for a day to just shoot the shit at home.
"Nah." Seth yawned. "I have an English test I can't afford to miss." He paused. "And I'm fine…seriously. Just a little tired is all."
"Have you been having trouble sleeping again?" Sandy asked, resting a hand on Seth's shoulder.
"No," Seth replied quickly. "I've been sleeping just fine." He stole a glance over at Ryan, trying to see if he was paying attention to the conversation. His insomnia was not something he usually felt comfortable talking about. Besides, that was not the problem. In fact, he'd been sleeping like a baby as soon as his head hit the pillow these days. Or the desk, if he was in calculus class.
Ryan watched the whole exchange, a bemused expression on his face. Sandy fussing over Seth, and Seth trying to get him off his back was not a rare event, but it was always rather amusing, watching the two stubborn Cohens butt heads. Never got old, really. Now all Sandy had to do was slip up again and call Seth "honey," and the shit would really hit the fan. Or "baby." That little term of endearment always got Seth riled up.
Sandy nodded, his eyebrows arched skeptically. "Okay," he said, nodding still. "Run up and get dressed. We'll wait for you."
"Ugh." Seth slid off the chair and trudged out of the kitchen. "BRB," he called over his shoulder.
Sandy gave Ryan a perplexed look.
"Internet lingo. Be right back," Ryan explained, scraping the remainder of his cereal into the trash.
Sandy nodded. He took a small sip of coffee. "Any particular reason why Seth, who will grab any opportunity to miss a day of school, is actually begging me to let him go?"
"He wants to follow Summer around, make sure she's not hanging out with any other guys," Ryan replied softly. He didn't want to betray Seth's confidence, but he wasn't about to lie to Sandy. "I don't think he's feeling all that well," he added, scratching the back of his head anxiously.
"Well, whatever. He wants to go to school for once, let him." Sandy sighed, tugging on his tie with a frown. He grabbed a bagel from the counter and chewed on it thoughtfully. "I hope things are going okay with Summer and him."
"If you're trying to get information from me, not a chance," Ryan said, grabbing the Sports section of the newspaper.
Sandy shot him a lopsided grin as Seth reappeared in the kitchen, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on it, which read 'Kiss Me, I'm a Pirate.'
"Interesting shirt there, son," Sandy said with a laugh.
"Hoping to inspire the women of Harbor School," Seth replied with a tired smile. He looked like he'd cleaned up a bit, so as to not look so haggard for Summer.
"Well, let's hit the road," Sandy said, with too much bouncy enthusiasm for Seth's liking.
Seth shot Ryan a look, but Ryan just shrugged, washed out his coffee mug, and followed Sandy out of the house.
"They're all nuts," Seth muttered, grabbing his backpack from the hall closet and, yawning the whole time, made his way to the Range Rover.
Seth lay on his bed, clutching Captain Oats to his heart, pondering his life. It had been an extremely long and tedious day at school. His head was throbbing dully and his stomach hurt a little, but he felt too lazy to get up and grab some Tylenol. It seemed like all he ever did anymore was go to school, come home, and collapse on his bed. He seriously needed to increase his caffeine intake or something.
As usual, Seth's thoughts eventually turned to Summer. Ah, Summer. He'd seen her in Biology and English, of course, where she'd flirted with him openly. Kids in advanced placement classes usually weren't all that interested in popularity, and truly didn't care who was dating whom. Seth and Summer flirting had very little impact on their thoughts. But, when Seth had tried to approach Summer during lunch, she had very politely explained that she had somewhere she had to be, and scurried away to wherever. Rejection was even harder than usual. After all, you'd think sex, no matter how awkward it was, would mean something, especially to a girl.
Seth closed his eyes and sighed. He began to quietly sing along with his Bright Eyes CD, trying to make sense of the enigma that was Summer, and perhaps shake off his crazy headache.
"So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off. And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul." Seth sang quietly, and the words, though dripping with angst, sort of made him feel better.
He could handle Summer. He'd make her want everyone to know they were dating. He couldn't let her leave him because of something as superficial and shallow as popularity; they were both way above that.
Seth fell asleep, hands still clutching Captain Oats like a small child cuddling with their teddy bear, and the tiniest of smiles on his lips.
A knock on the door awoke Seth from his peaceful slumber. He groaned and tossed Captain Oats aside, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The tiny headache he'd had had become a full-blown, hangover-esque brain pounder. His eyes burned and he closed them with a sigh.
"What?" He called, silencing his CD player.
"Seth…dinner." His father's voice floated into his room.
"Yeah. Be down there in a minute." He paused. "What're we having?" He yawned.
"KFC," Sandy answered. "Seth, you okay in there?"
"Yeah, Dad, fine."
"Okay then." Seth heard his father's footsteps as he walked away from the door.
Seth sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. He felt dead. He shivered. Dead and cold. He grabbed his Nirvana sweatshirt- conveniently located on his floor- and stood up. He yawned, standing up. For a second the world spun around right before his eyes.
"Whoa," Seth whispered, reaching a hand out to steady his balance on his dresser. He blinked a few times, then let go, confident that he was okay. Though his vision was still slightly fuzzy, he knew he could make it downstairs with no problems.
Seth stumbled his way out of the room and into the bathroom. He flicked the light on, caught a look of himself in the mirror, and cringed. His curly hair was plastered to one side of his head, making it look like a small furry creature was attempting to leap off of him. Not attractive. His eyes were red, with dark circles underneath them, and his face was like that of Casper, the Friendly Ghost. Maybe he really was sick.
He turned on the cold water at the sink, bringing a few handfuls of water up to his face, reveling in it's refreshing coolness. He patted his face dry with a washcloth, and set to work on his hair. With a few expert maneuvers, he made it look at least presentable. There was very little he could do about the rest of his appearance, so if his dad wanted to think he was sick, he could go ahead and do so.
After swallowing two Tylenol he set out for the kitchen. He could smell the fried chicken from the stairs, and his stomach turned over in his chest. He was more than a little queasy.
"Well, look who finally decided to make an appearance," Sandy greeted him, cheerfully waving a chicken leg. "Grab a wing and sit down."
Seth flopped into one of the kitchen chairs, and snatched a thigh from the greasy KFC box, and dumped it on his plate.
"Here, have some potatoes; they're good for you," Sandy instructed, already scooping some onto his plate.
Seth only grunted in reply, absentmindedly picking some skin off of his piece of chicken.
"So boys, how was school?" Sandy asked, taking a sip of milk.
Ryan shot him a meaningful look.
Sandy shrugged. "Now that Kirsten's not here, someone has to ask these obligatory questions."
"It was Monday," Ryan answered, wiping some grease off of his chin.
"Ah." Sandy's cheerful smile never wavered. "So, is pre-calc as hellish for you as it was for Seth?"
"Probably worse," Ryan answered. "The man hates me."
Sandy nodded. "He'll do that to you." He glanced over at Seth and narrowed his eyes. Seth's eyelids were slowly drooping. Sandy jostled his arm lightly. "Hey!"
Seth's eyes snapped open. He straightened up. "Huh? What?"
"You were about to do a face-plant in your mashed potatoes," Sandy explained. He arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Seth rubbed his face with his hand. "Yeah..yeah. Just a little tired is all."
"I don't buy that, Seth," Sandy replied sternly.
"I've got a headache, okay?" Seth snapped.
"Okay, then." Sandy nodded. "Once you finish up with dinner, I want you to go right up to bed. No comics. No video games. No Internet."
"Yes, Your Dictatorship," Seth mumbled.
Sandy grinned, happy with the fact that he'd figured out what was wrong with Seth, and come up with a suitable solution to the problem. He couldn't help but talk a little more.
"And if you're still feeling sick tomorrow, I don't want you going to school," he added. Ha! Kirsten could kiss his Jewish butt. She'd claimed he couldn't handle the boys on his own, and he was doing just superb, if he did say so himself.
"Yeah," Ryan agreed, finally looking up from his plate. "Summer might come over to…comfort you."
Seth's face turned a violent shade of red. His grabbed a biscuit and chucked it at Ryan, who ducked out of the way, laughing.
"Boys, boys, there are starving children in Bangladesh who would love to have those biscuits," Sandy said, sadly shaking his head, then ducking quickly to avoid another flying biscuit.
Seth's smiled, his face still pink. "And I guess that wouldn't be so bad. Summer would probably talk to me here, in the privacy of my own home, when nobody's around to see us together." He rolled his eyes.
Sandy frowned. "She won't talk to you if other people are around?" He asked, looking mildly concerned.
Seth waved it off with his hand. "No big deal. She's warming up to me. She just doesn't want to hurt my reputation by hanging all over me. You know." Seth avoided his father's eye contact, and sipped his milk quietly.
Sandy, realizing there was nothing he could say to fix that particular problem for his son, decided to say nothing. He felt a jolt of pity for Seth though. He really liked Summer, and he knew that Summer felt the same way about him, but it was hard for her to let go of her popularity and date this "nerd." It made Sandy a little angry, knowing that Seth, his son, was hated. He was a good boy, sweet and kind-hearted. His sarcasm was just his defense against the rest of the world. He was too good for the Newport Beach snobs.
"Done," Seth announced, swallowing one last spoonful of mashed potatoes. "And before you say anything, I'm gonna go upstairs, brush my teeth in light, circular strokes, and hop right into bed." He paused, batting his eyelashes. "I assume someone will be up to tuck me in shortly?"
This time, the biscuit was aimed at him, and it hit him square between the eyes.
Sandy flicked off the kitchen light. Ryan was in the pool house, sleeping soundly, and Seth was up in his room, hopefully sleeping. You never knew with him. He had the habit of sneaking a flashlight under his blanket to read Kerouac well into the night.
Sandy yawned. He was already in his usual sleep wear: robe, boxers, gray T-shirt, and he wanted nothing more than to flop down on his bed and fall into Dreamland. He scaled the steps quickly, and headed down the hall toward his bedroom.
He paused at Seth's door, debating about whether he should go in and check on him or not. He pressed his ear up against the door, and placed his hand on the doorknob. The door to Seth's room was always closed; he was a privacy freak.
"Seth?" He whispered, as he opened the door, just in case Seth was awake.
"Unnnn…stop…no…" Seth writhed and kicked in his bed, sleeping not so soundly.
Sandy strode quickly over to his bed, perching himself on the edge.
"Shhhh…Seth..it's okay, buddy. Dad's here." Sandy stroked Seth's hair tenderly. He frowned. Seth's body was soaked in sweat.
Seth's body jerked, then stopped. His eyes flickered open, but they didn't seem to focus.
"D-Dad?" He asked softly, his voice thick and confused.
"Yeah, kiddo, it's me," Sandy told him softly. He bent down and kissed Seth's sweaty forehead gently.
"Bad dream," Seth explained, licking his lips. "Fine now. Thanks." He paused. "Don't need to talk about it."
"Do you need a glass of water?" Sandy asked.
"No."
"Want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?"
"You don't hafta."
"Okay." Sandy nodded. "I'll be right back," he said in a hushed voice.
He returned a minute later with a damp washcloth that he'd soaked with cold water. He applied it to Seth's forehead, and began gently mopping the sweat from his face.
"Feels good," Seth told him. "Thanks."
"No problem, Big Guy." Sandy stood up. "You holler if you need me, okay?"
"Sure."
"Night, Seth."
"Night, Dad."
Sandy backed out of the room hesitantly. Oh yeah, Seth was not going to school the next day.
"Morning, Sunshine."
The shades were pulled open hastily, and impossibly bright shafts of sunlight attacked Seth's eyes. He rolled over, burying his face into his pillow.
"My retinas," he groaned.
"C'mon kiddo, wake up," Sandy ordered gently.
"No thanks, Dad-o," Seth yelled into his pillow.
Sandy perched himself on the edge of Seth's bed. "So, considering recent events, you're staying home today. No arguments. Cuz Daddy says so." Sandy mussed up Seth's hair lovingly.
Seth batted his hand away. "I feel better," he lied. He rolled over to face his father. "But I'll stay home." He smiled in submission. "Just make sure to tell Ryan to keep an eye on Summer, huh?"
Sandy placed a hand on Seth's forehead. "You still have a little fever. I'll call Harbor, call work, drive Ryan, and come back so we can hang out."
Seth shook his head. "You don't have to stay home with me. I'm not a little kid. I can totally handle myself."
Sandy snickered. "I need a day off as much as you do. We'll call it a mental health day, huh?" He paused. "Plus, it'll give us a chance to discuss this thing with Summer."
Seth groaned, which widened Sandy's smile. He tucked the blankets under Seth's chin, and patted the top of his head.
"Be back in awhile. Try not to miss me too much."
"Try?" Seth snorted.
"Wise ass," Sandy mumbled, but not without some affection. "Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone." He stood up and walked toward the door.
"I'll leave that one to Ryan," Seth replied.
Sandy snickered.
"Bye Daddy, I love you," Seth said in a high-pitched, greatly exaggerated voice.
"Love you too, baby," Sandy replied, knowing he'd strike a nerve.
"Don't call me baby!"
Sandy just grinned and headed downstairs, where Ryan sat, patiently waiting for Sandy, and reading the paper.
"Rule number one, kid, Cohens are not morning people."
"So I gathered," Ryan replied dryly. He smiled though, one of those tight-lipped smiles where he wouldn't look into your eyes. "How's Seth?"
"Moody and wretched." Sandy sighed. "The usual. Nah, he'll be fine. Don't worry. He's gonna stay home today, but it's nothing. A little bug maybe." He shrugged. "Nothing to get excited about."
Ryan nodded, happy with the verdict.
"Now let's get going. One of my sons has to get some education today." He winked at Ryan. "Luckily, it's the smart one."
Ryan felt a strange warmth spread through his chest. Son. He was Sandy's son. He smiled, liking it.
"Seth's the genius, not me," Ryan replied, trying not to look Sandy in the eye. If he did, he might see that love and warmth in them, and Ryan might cry, or try to give him a hug or something.
Sandy just laughed.
When Sandy got home, Seth was sitting on the couch, a quilt draped over his shoulders, and playing Playstation 2. He looked up at Sandy and gave him a tired grin.
"Grand Theft Auto. I try not to play it when Ryan's around," Seth joked.
"Got any two player excitement for me?" Sandy asked, raising both eyebrows.
Seth gave him a look. He seemed to be considering something. Finally, he sighed.
"Okay, Dad. Plug in the N64. We'll play Mario Kart." Seth rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
"All right!" A huge grin spread across Sandy's face. "Dibs on Peach!" He ran toward the closet for the game system.
Seth shook his head in disgust. "You call yourself a man." He paused. "Dibs on Yoshi, I guess."
"Mushroom Cup?" Sandy asked.
"Sure. It's the only one you can beat," Seth replied.
"Not true…I just like Moo Moo Farm." Sandy began plugging in the Nintendo 64 console.
"Suuuuure." Seth rolled his eyes.
"But you have to promise not to take the short-cut on Koopa Troopa Beach. It's not fair," Sandy said.
"You just jealous 'cause you can't do it," Seth replied crossing his arms.
"I can so do it..I just don't want to." Sandy handed him a green controller. "And I can do the Wario's Stadium short cut too. It's just unethical; none of the other drivers know about them."
Seth snorted. "There are no ethics in Nintendo." He shook his head. "But okay, I won't. And when we're done I'll continue walking you through Majora's Mask."
Sandy grinned, excited. "I love that game," he said, smacking Seth's shoulder in all his exuberance.
"Ow…yeah…I know…" Seth rubbed his shoulder, giving his father a dirty look. "Can't believe I'm still playing this system..but hey, it's your favorite."
"That it is," Sandy agreed, a wistful smile on his face. When they'd bought Seth the game system, they hadn't had the closest relationship. They talked occasionally, but Seth spent most of his time hidden up in his room, doing his own thing, and Sandy spent most of his time worried that Seth was unhappy; unhappy in Newport, and just generally unhappy. But it was this game, Mario Kart, that had really brought them together. Seth needed someone to play with, and Sandy was willing to pick up a controller and learn the tricks of the trade if it meant getting closer to his son. And they did become closer. While they fought desperately to beat each other in Rainbow Road, they discussed girls, loneliness, and the stupidity and conceit of all those who surrounded them in Newport. Sandy was finally able to tell Seth that there was nothing wrong him, that it was they who made fun of him who had the problems. Though Sandy had never beaten Seth in a race or in battle, he always won with Mario Kart.
"Yo, Dad. You with me?" Seth asked, giving him a funny look.
"Yeah..just thinking about stuff." Sandy cleared his throat. "How you feeling?"
"Pretty good. Just tired." Seth gave a tiny smile. "Don't worry about me."
"I'm a father; it's what I do," Sandy replied, as the first race started up. "I love this game," he said fondly.
Seth, knowing what his dad was thinking about, nodded his head slightly.
"I know…I know."
After about an hour and a half of heated races, Seth placing first in all of them, with no shortcuts, Sandy was ready to quit.
You want to go make some lunch? Can your stomach handle it?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's be cool." Seth smiled. "I can't believe you couldn't even win one race. You got the lightning bolt like eight thousand times."
"That was only in Toad's Turnpike, and I would've won but all those trucks kept swerving into me."
"Yeah, Dad..they were gunning for you." Seth stood up, perhaps to quickly. Suddenly his head felt light, and the world was spinning around again. Just as he felt his knees give way, he grabbed onto his father's shoulder.
Sandy caught him in his arms before he could slide to the floor. He set Seth carefully on the couch.
"Seth…son, can you hear me?" Sandy asked, his voice panicked.
Seth's eyes were glazed over and out of focus. He blinked three times, and looked directly into Sandy's eyes. He saw the worry, concern, and love, and felt uncomfortable.
"Yeah..yeah…I guess I just lost my balance for a second there…sorry…" Seth averted his eyes from his dad's penetrating stare. He always knew when Seth was lying, and now was no exception. 'What's wrong with me?' Seth wondered.
"No, you didn't just lose your balance. You were about to pass out." Sandy's voice was high and spiked. "God, Seth, you're sweaty and you're shaking." His jaw set stubbornly. "I'm taking you to the hospital. No arguments."
"Aw, Dad," Seth whined. "Why can't we just go to Dr. Kilbride?"
"Because Doctor Kilbride doesn't know left from right."
"So of course he's my doctor."
"He has the best lollipops."
"Honestly Dad, I'm okay," Seth protested.
"No, you're not, honey. If it hadn't been for me, you might be unconscious right now. Thank God I took off work today." Sandy brushed the curls off of Seth's forehead gently. "It's probably nothing. Probably stress." He said the words to reassure himself as well as Seth, though the growing pit in his stomach proved that he didn't believe it at all.
"Don't call me honey," Seth muttered, defeated. "Great, spending my mental health day in Newport General." He rubbed his face with his hand.
"Are you okay to walk?" Sandy asked. "Are you still dizzy?"
"I can walk, no problem."
Seth stood up shakily. He was still a little dizzy, but he didn't like being fussed over. Sandy rested his hand on the small of Seth's back, guiding him gently toward the door.
"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," Sandy chided him.
"I didn't want you to worry about me."
"It comes with the territory of being a father," Sandy replied. "Wouldn't be doing my job if I wasn't an overbearing gnat."
"Congratulations then; you're doing a lovely job."
End of chapter one. Liked it? Hated it? Please review.
In addition, and this is *very important*: This story is incredibly similar plot-wise to a story written by crazybeef entitled "Rainbows are Lame and Leperchauns are Freaky." I have already discussed this matter with the author, and she is fine with me posting this story, and has even become my wonderful, extraordinary beta reader. So, there's no controversy there.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Cohens, Ryan, Luke, Summer, Marissa, etc. They all belong to FOX and Josh Schwartz and all that. However, I do claim Adam Brody as my TV boyfriend, and Peter Gallagher, despite our huge age difference, remains the runner up in that category.
And here goes….
Chapter 1
Ryan was sitting at the kitchen counter quietly munching his corn flakes when Seth shuffled into the room.
"Wow, man. You look like crap," Ryan remarked, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
Ryan, however tactless, was correct. Seth did indeed look crappy. Lately he had seemed more worn down, but it had never been as extreme as that particular morning. There were dark circles under both bloodshot eyes, his body was scrunched up into itself, giving him a scrawny, vulnerable, appearance, his hair had gone from uncontrollable to obscene, and his face was a deeply pale color, though his cheeks were a bit flushed. He was clad only in a robe, a blue t-shirt, and boxers, though if they wanted to get to school on time they'd have to get out the door in a few minutes.
"You're a real sweet talker, you know that Atwood?" Seth grumbled, scooping a handful of cereal out of the box, then dropping it back in, apparently deciding he wasn't hungry. He sighed. "Actually, I'm really not feeling all that super today, but let's keep that on the hush-hush down-low, huh?"
Ryan narrowed his eyes curiously. "Usually you'd jump at the chance to stay home from school. The one day you're actually sick, I'd expect you to be milking it for all it's worth." Ryan took a swig of coffee.
Seth slumped down onto a chair beside Ryan. "That, my friend, was before Summer and I had sex, not once, not three times…but twice." Seth held up two fingers weakly. "I suppose we're dating, but considering the fact that she does not acknowledge my existence in public, it's probably not the best idea to ditch school today….you know…out of sight, out of mind?" Seth ran a weary hand through his hair. "Musn't have some other lad swooping in to steal my lady."
"Whatever," Ryan mumbled with a shrug. He was still slightly concerned about the welfare of his brother, but that was probably just his older brother protective instincts.
"Morning boys," came Sandy's cheerful voice as he hurried into the kitchen, throwing open a cabinet and grabbing a mug. "Seth, you'd better get dressed in the next two minutes. We've gotta go, Big Guy."
"I'll wait and have Mom take me or something. I can be late." Seth sighed.
"No can do, kiddo. Mom's at the airport. Big business trip for Caleb and..Kikki." Sandy almost spat the last word.
Sandy turned around to face his son. He was instantly taken aback. What had mildly concerned Ryan, bothered him a little more. Seth was looking positively gaunt, but Sandy reminded himself to keep his worry in check. He was an extreme hypochondriac, but mostly when it concerned Seth or Kirsten, rather than himself. Seth could have a hangnail, and he'd probably call Poison Control.
"You feeling okay, Seth?" Sandy asked cautiously. "You look beat."
"I'm really feeling the love this morning," Seth groaned, drumming his fingers on the counter. He gave his dad a reassuring but annoyed smile. "I'm fine," he said.
"You sure?" Sandy reached over and placed the back of his hand on Seth's forehead gently. "You feel a little warm."
"Dad, I'm fine." Seth swatted away his hand.
"You could stay home today. I could ditch work…we'll make a day of it. Play Playstation, watch all those "Dukes of Hazzard," tapes..whatever." Sandy grinned, starting to enjoy the idea of letting go of work for a day to just shoot the shit at home.
"Nah." Seth yawned. "I have an English test I can't afford to miss." He paused. "And I'm fine…seriously. Just a little tired is all."
"Have you been having trouble sleeping again?" Sandy asked, resting a hand on Seth's shoulder.
"No," Seth replied quickly. "I've been sleeping just fine." He stole a glance over at Ryan, trying to see if he was paying attention to the conversation. His insomnia was not something he usually felt comfortable talking about. Besides, that was not the problem. In fact, he'd been sleeping like a baby as soon as his head hit the pillow these days. Or the desk, if he was in calculus class.
Ryan watched the whole exchange, a bemused expression on his face. Sandy fussing over Seth, and Seth trying to get him off his back was not a rare event, but it was always rather amusing, watching the two stubborn Cohens butt heads. Never got old, really. Now all Sandy had to do was slip up again and call Seth "honey," and the shit would really hit the fan. Or "baby." That little term of endearment always got Seth riled up.
Sandy nodded, his eyebrows arched skeptically. "Okay," he said, nodding still. "Run up and get dressed. We'll wait for you."
"Ugh." Seth slid off the chair and trudged out of the kitchen. "BRB," he called over his shoulder.
Sandy gave Ryan a perplexed look.
"Internet lingo. Be right back," Ryan explained, scraping the remainder of his cereal into the trash.
Sandy nodded. He took a small sip of coffee. "Any particular reason why Seth, who will grab any opportunity to miss a day of school, is actually begging me to let him go?"
"He wants to follow Summer around, make sure she's not hanging out with any other guys," Ryan replied softly. He didn't want to betray Seth's confidence, but he wasn't about to lie to Sandy. "I don't think he's feeling all that well," he added, scratching the back of his head anxiously.
"Well, whatever. He wants to go to school for once, let him." Sandy sighed, tugging on his tie with a frown. He grabbed a bagel from the counter and chewed on it thoughtfully. "I hope things are going okay with Summer and him."
"If you're trying to get information from me, not a chance," Ryan said, grabbing the Sports section of the newspaper.
Sandy shot him a lopsided grin as Seth reappeared in the kitchen, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on it, which read 'Kiss Me, I'm a Pirate.'
"Interesting shirt there, son," Sandy said with a laugh.
"Hoping to inspire the women of Harbor School," Seth replied with a tired smile. He looked like he'd cleaned up a bit, so as to not look so haggard for Summer.
"Well, let's hit the road," Sandy said, with too much bouncy enthusiasm for Seth's liking.
Seth shot Ryan a look, but Ryan just shrugged, washed out his coffee mug, and followed Sandy out of the house.
"They're all nuts," Seth muttered, grabbing his backpack from the hall closet and, yawning the whole time, made his way to the Range Rover.
Seth lay on his bed, clutching Captain Oats to his heart, pondering his life. It had been an extremely long and tedious day at school. His head was throbbing dully and his stomach hurt a little, but he felt too lazy to get up and grab some Tylenol. It seemed like all he ever did anymore was go to school, come home, and collapse on his bed. He seriously needed to increase his caffeine intake or something.
As usual, Seth's thoughts eventually turned to Summer. Ah, Summer. He'd seen her in Biology and English, of course, where she'd flirted with him openly. Kids in advanced placement classes usually weren't all that interested in popularity, and truly didn't care who was dating whom. Seth and Summer flirting had very little impact on their thoughts. But, when Seth had tried to approach Summer during lunch, she had very politely explained that she had somewhere she had to be, and scurried away to wherever. Rejection was even harder than usual. After all, you'd think sex, no matter how awkward it was, would mean something, especially to a girl.
Seth closed his eyes and sighed. He began to quietly sing along with his Bright Eyes CD, trying to make sense of the enigma that was Summer, and perhaps shake off his crazy headache.
"So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off. And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul." Seth sang quietly, and the words, though dripping with angst, sort of made him feel better.
He could handle Summer. He'd make her want everyone to know they were dating. He couldn't let her leave him because of something as superficial and shallow as popularity; they were both way above that.
Seth fell asleep, hands still clutching Captain Oats like a small child cuddling with their teddy bear, and the tiniest of smiles on his lips.
A knock on the door awoke Seth from his peaceful slumber. He groaned and tossed Captain Oats aside, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The tiny headache he'd had had become a full-blown, hangover-esque brain pounder. His eyes burned and he closed them with a sigh.
"What?" He called, silencing his CD player.
"Seth…dinner." His father's voice floated into his room.
"Yeah. Be down there in a minute." He paused. "What're we having?" He yawned.
"KFC," Sandy answered. "Seth, you okay in there?"
"Yeah, Dad, fine."
"Okay then." Seth heard his father's footsteps as he walked away from the door.
Seth sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. He felt dead. He shivered. Dead and cold. He grabbed his Nirvana sweatshirt- conveniently located on his floor- and stood up. He yawned, standing up. For a second the world spun around right before his eyes.
"Whoa," Seth whispered, reaching a hand out to steady his balance on his dresser. He blinked a few times, then let go, confident that he was okay. Though his vision was still slightly fuzzy, he knew he could make it downstairs with no problems.
Seth stumbled his way out of the room and into the bathroom. He flicked the light on, caught a look of himself in the mirror, and cringed. His curly hair was plastered to one side of his head, making it look like a small furry creature was attempting to leap off of him. Not attractive. His eyes were red, with dark circles underneath them, and his face was like that of Casper, the Friendly Ghost. Maybe he really was sick.
He turned on the cold water at the sink, bringing a few handfuls of water up to his face, reveling in it's refreshing coolness. He patted his face dry with a washcloth, and set to work on his hair. With a few expert maneuvers, he made it look at least presentable. There was very little he could do about the rest of his appearance, so if his dad wanted to think he was sick, he could go ahead and do so.
After swallowing two Tylenol he set out for the kitchen. He could smell the fried chicken from the stairs, and his stomach turned over in his chest. He was more than a little queasy.
"Well, look who finally decided to make an appearance," Sandy greeted him, cheerfully waving a chicken leg. "Grab a wing and sit down."
Seth flopped into one of the kitchen chairs, and snatched a thigh from the greasy KFC box, and dumped it on his plate.
"Here, have some potatoes; they're good for you," Sandy instructed, already scooping some onto his plate.
Seth only grunted in reply, absentmindedly picking some skin off of his piece of chicken.
"So boys, how was school?" Sandy asked, taking a sip of milk.
Ryan shot him a meaningful look.
Sandy shrugged. "Now that Kirsten's not here, someone has to ask these obligatory questions."
"It was Monday," Ryan answered, wiping some grease off of his chin.
"Ah." Sandy's cheerful smile never wavered. "So, is pre-calc as hellish for you as it was for Seth?"
"Probably worse," Ryan answered. "The man hates me."
Sandy nodded. "He'll do that to you." He glanced over at Seth and narrowed his eyes. Seth's eyelids were slowly drooping. Sandy jostled his arm lightly. "Hey!"
Seth's eyes snapped open. He straightened up. "Huh? What?"
"You were about to do a face-plant in your mashed potatoes," Sandy explained. He arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Seth rubbed his face with his hand. "Yeah..yeah. Just a little tired is all."
"I don't buy that, Seth," Sandy replied sternly.
"I've got a headache, okay?" Seth snapped.
"Okay, then." Sandy nodded. "Once you finish up with dinner, I want you to go right up to bed. No comics. No video games. No Internet."
"Yes, Your Dictatorship," Seth mumbled.
Sandy grinned, happy with the fact that he'd figured out what was wrong with Seth, and come up with a suitable solution to the problem. He couldn't help but talk a little more.
"And if you're still feeling sick tomorrow, I don't want you going to school," he added. Ha! Kirsten could kiss his Jewish butt. She'd claimed he couldn't handle the boys on his own, and he was doing just superb, if he did say so himself.
"Yeah," Ryan agreed, finally looking up from his plate. "Summer might come over to…comfort you."
Seth's face turned a violent shade of red. His grabbed a biscuit and chucked it at Ryan, who ducked out of the way, laughing.
"Boys, boys, there are starving children in Bangladesh who would love to have those biscuits," Sandy said, sadly shaking his head, then ducking quickly to avoid another flying biscuit.
Seth's smiled, his face still pink. "And I guess that wouldn't be so bad. Summer would probably talk to me here, in the privacy of my own home, when nobody's around to see us together." He rolled his eyes.
Sandy frowned. "She won't talk to you if other people are around?" He asked, looking mildly concerned.
Seth waved it off with his hand. "No big deal. She's warming up to me. She just doesn't want to hurt my reputation by hanging all over me. You know." Seth avoided his father's eye contact, and sipped his milk quietly.
Sandy, realizing there was nothing he could say to fix that particular problem for his son, decided to say nothing. He felt a jolt of pity for Seth though. He really liked Summer, and he knew that Summer felt the same way about him, but it was hard for her to let go of her popularity and date this "nerd." It made Sandy a little angry, knowing that Seth, his son, was hated. He was a good boy, sweet and kind-hearted. His sarcasm was just his defense against the rest of the world. He was too good for the Newport Beach snobs.
"Done," Seth announced, swallowing one last spoonful of mashed potatoes. "And before you say anything, I'm gonna go upstairs, brush my teeth in light, circular strokes, and hop right into bed." He paused, batting his eyelashes. "I assume someone will be up to tuck me in shortly?"
This time, the biscuit was aimed at him, and it hit him square between the eyes.
Sandy flicked off the kitchen light. Ryan was in the pool house, sleeping soundly, and Seth was up in his room, hopefully sleeping. You never knew with him. He had the habit of sneaking a flashlight under his blanket to read Kerouac well into the night.
Sandy yawned. He was already in his usual sleep wear: robe, boxers, gray T-shirt, and he wanted nothing more than to flop down on his bed and fall into Dreamland. He scaled the steps quickly, and headed down the hall toward his bedroom.
He paused at Seth's door, debating about whether he should go in and check on him or not. He pressed his ear up against the door, and placed his hand on the doorknob. The door to Seth's room was always closed; he was a privacy freak.
"Seth?" He whispered, as he opened the door, just in case Seth was awake.
"Unnnn…stop…no…" Seth writhed and kicked in his bed, sleeping not so soundly.
Sandy strode quickly over to his bed, perching himself on the edge.
"Shhhh…Seth..it's okay, buddy. Dad's here." Sandy stroked Seth's hair tenderly. He frowned. Seth's body was soaked in sweat.
Seth's body jerked, then stopped. His eyes flickered open, but they didn't seem to focus.
"D-Dad?" He asked softly, his voice thick and confused.
"Yeah, kiddo, it's me," Sandy told him softly. He bent down and kissed Seth's sweaty forehead gently.
"Bad dream," Seth explained, licking his lips. "Fine now. Thanks." He paused. "Don't need to talk about it."
"Do you need a glass of water?" Sandy asked.
"No."
"Want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?"
"You don't hafta."
"Okay." Sandy nodded. "I'll be right back," he said in a hushed voice.
He returned a minute later with a damp washcloth that he'd soaked with cold water. He applied it to Seth's forehead, and began gently mopping the sweat from his face.
"Feels good," Seth told him. "Thanks."
"No problem, Big Guy." Sandy stood up. "You holler if you need me, okay?"
"Sure."
"Night, Seth."
"Night, Dad."
Sandy backed out of the room hesitantly. Oh yeah, Seth was not going to school the next day.
"Morning, Sunshine."
The shades were pulled open hastily, and impossibly bright shafts of sunlight attacked Seth's eyes. He rolled over, burying his face into his pillow.
"My retinas," he groaned.
"C'mon kiddo, wake up," Sandy ordered gently.
"No thanks, Dad-o," Seth yelled into his pillow.
Sandy perched himself on the edge of Seth's bed. "So, considering recent events, you're staying home today. No arguments. Cuz Daddy says so." Sandy mussed up Seth's hair lovingly.
Seth batted his hand away. "I feel better," he lied. He rolled over to face his father. "But I'll stay home." He smiled in submission. "Just make sure to tell Ryan to keep an eye on Summer, huh?"
Sandy placed a hand on Seth's forehead. "You still have a little fever. I'll call Harbor, call work, drive Ryan, and come back so we can hang out."
Seth shook his head. "You don't have to stay home with me. I'm not a little kid. I can totally handle myself."
Sandy snickered. "I need a day off as much as you do. We'll call it a mental health day, huh?" He paused. "Plus, it'll give us a chance to discuss this thing with Summer."
Seth groaned, which widened Sandy's smile. He tucked the blankets under Seth's chin, and patted the top of his head.
"Be back in awhile. Try not to miss me too much."
"Try?" Seth snorted.
"Wise ass," Sandy mumbled, but not without some affection. "Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone." He stood up and walked toward the door.
"I'll leave that one to Ryan," Seth replied.
Sandy snickered.
"Bye Daddy, I love you," Seth said in a high-pitched, greatly exaggerated voice.
"Love you too, baby," Sandy replied, knowing he'd strike a nerve.
"Don't call me baby!"
Sandy just grinned and headed downstairs, where Ryan sat, patiently waiting for Sandy, and reading the paper.
"Rule number one, kid, Cohens are not morning people."
"So I gathered," Ryan replied dryly. He smiled though, one of those tight-lipped smiles where he wouldn't look into your eyes. "How's Seth?"
"Moody and wretched." Sandy sighed. "The usual. Nah, he'll be fine. Don't worry. He's gonna stay home today, but it's nothing. A little bug maybe." He shrugged. "Nothing to get excited about."
Ryan nodded, happy with the verdict.
"Now let's get going. One of my sons has to get some education today." He winked at Ryan. "Luckily, it's the smart one."
Ryan felt a strange warmth spread through his chest. Son. He was Sandy's son. He smiled, liking it.
"Seth's the genius, not me," Ryan replied, trying not to look Sandy in the eye. If he did, he might see that love and warmth in them, and Ryan might cry, or try to give him a hug or something.
Sandy just laughed.
When Sandy got home, Seth was sitting on the couch, a quilt draped over his shoulders, and playing Playstation 2. He looked up at Sandy and gave him a tired grin.
"Grand Theft Auto. I try not to play it when Ryan's around," Seth joked.
"Got any two player excitement for me?" Sandy asked, raising both eyebrows.
Seth gave him a look. He seemed to be considering something. Finally, he sighed.
"Okay, Dad. Plug in the N64. We'll play Mario Kart." Seth rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
"All right!" A huge grin spread across Sandy's face. "Dibs on Peach!" He ran toward the closet for the game system.
Seth shook his head in disgust. "You call yourself a man." He paused. "Dibs on Yoshi, I guess."
"Mushroom Cup?" Sandy asked.
"Sure. It's the only one you can beat," Seth replied.
"Not true…I just like Moo Moo Farm." Sandy began plugging in the Nintendo 64 console.
"Suuuuure." Seth rolled his eyes.
"But you have to promise not to take the short-cut on Koopa Troopa Beach. It's not fair," Sandy said.
"You just jealous 'cause you can't do it," Seth replied crossing his arms.
"I can so do it..I just don't want to." Sandy handed him a green controller. "And I can do the Wario's Stadium short cut too. It's just unethical; none of the other drivers know about them."
Seth snorted. "There are no ethics in Nintendo." He shook his head. "But okay, I won't. And when we're done I'll continue walking you through Majora's Mask."
Sandy grinned, excited. "I love that game," he said, smacking Seth's shoulder in all his exuberance.
"Ow…yeah…I know…" Seth rubbed his shoulder, giving his father a dirty look. "Can't believe I'm still playing this system..but hey, it's your favorite."
"That it is," Sandy agreed, a wistful smile on his face. When they'd bought Seth the game system, they hadn't had the closest relationship. They talked occasionally, but Seth spent most of his time hidden up in his room, doing his own thing, and Sandy spent most of his time worried that Seth was unhappy; unhappy in Newport, and just generally unhappy. But it was this game, Mario Kart, that had really brought them together. Seth needed someone to play with, and Sandy was willing to pick up a controller and learn the tricks of the trade if it meant getting closer to his son. And they did become closer. While they fought desperately to beat each other in Rainbow Road, they discussed girls, loneliness, and the stupidity and conceit of all those who surrounded them in Newport. Sandy was finally able to tell Seth that there was nothing wrong him, that it was they who made fun of him who had the problems. Though Sandy had never beaten Seth in a race or in battle, he always won with Mario Kart.
"Yo, Dad. You with me?" Seth asked, giving him a funny look.
"Yeah..just thinking about stuff." Sandy cleared his throat. "How you feeling?"
"Pretty good. Just tired." Seth gave a tiny smile. "Don't worry about me."
"I'm a father; it's what I do," Sandy replied, as the first race started up. "I love this game," he said fondly.
Seth, knowing what his dad was thinking about, nodded his head slightly.
"I know…I know."
After about an hour and a half of heated races, Seth placing first in all of them, with no shortcuts, Sandy was ready to quit.
You want to go make some lunch? Can your stomach handle it?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's be cool." Seth smiled. "I can't believe you couldn't even win one race. You got the lightning bolt like eight thousand times."
"That was only in Toad's Turnpike, and I would've won but all those trucks kept swerving into me."
"Yeah, Dad..they were gunning for you." Seth stood up, perhaps to quickly. Suddenly his head felt light, and the world was spinning around again. Just as he felt his knees give way, he grabbed onto his father's shoulder.
Sandy caught him in his arms before he could slide to the floor. He set Seth carefully on the couch.
"Seth…son, can you hear me?" Sandy asked, his voice panicked.
Seth's eyes were glazed over and out of focus. He blinked three times, and looked directly into Sandy's eyes. He saw the worry, concern, and love, and felt uncomfortable.
"Yeah..yeah…I guess I just lost my balance for a second there…sorry…" Seth averted his eyes from his dad's penetrating stare. He always knew when Seth was lying, and now was no exception. 'What's wrong with me?' Seth wondered.
"No, you didn't just lose your balance. You were about to pass out." Sandy's voice was high and spiked. "God, Seth, you're sweaty and you're shaking." His jaw set stubbornly. "I'm taking you to the hospital. No arguments."
"Aw, Dad," Seth whined. "Why can't we just go to Dr. Kilbride?"
"Because Doctor Kilbride doesn't know left from right."
"So of course he's my doctor."
"He has the best lollipops."
"Honestly Dad, I'm okay," Seth protested.
"No, you're not, honey. If it hadn't been for me, you might be unconscious right now. Thank God I took off work today." Sandy brushed the curls off of Seth's forehead gently. "It's probably nothing. Probably stress." He said the words to reassure himself as well as Seth, though the growing pit in his stomach proved that he didn't believe it at all.
"Don't call me honey," Seth muttered, defeated. "Great, spending my mental health day in Newport General." He rubbed his face with his hand.
"Are you okay to walk?" Sandy asked. "Are you still dizzy?"
"I can walk, no problem."
Seth stood up shakily. He was still a little dizzy, but he didn't like being fussed over. Sandy rested his hand on the small of Seth's back, guiding him gently toward the door.
"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," Sandy chided him.
"I didn't want you to worry about me."
"It comes with the territory of being a father," Sandy replied. "Wouldn't be doing my job if I wasn't an overbearing gnat."
"Congratulations then; you're doing a lovely job."
End of chapter one. Liked it? Hated it? Please review.
