Future domestic Ryan/Marissa fic with mentions of cancer. Characters are not necessarily OOC but they're older and have gone through experiences that have changed them. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own the OC or the characters, nor make any money from this.


Marissa Cooper stands in front of a farmhouse-style sink in an airy white kitchen, thick limestone shelves stacked with plates and colourful cookbooks, an expansive stainless steel fridge humming nearby along with the AC. She holds a thin teal knife in her right hand, methodically cutting green stems off ripe strawberries, placing the cut fruit in a navy colander and leaves the scraps in a nearby compost bin. An emerald-style diamond ring shines on her left hand, sunlight catching and gleams of light wink against the sink. Beau, a Golden Retriever and member of the family for six years now, wanders into the room and heads straight for Marissa, sniffing her jeans eagerly. She smiles, wiping a hand on a nearby gingham-cloth and reaches down to affectionately scratch Beau's head. He licks her hand a few times in return before trotting off and she resumes cutting up fruit.

The backdoor knob wiggles and the door swings open, Marissa turning towards the noise with a warm smile. "Made it just in time. Did you guys get everything?"

Poppy proudly holds up a dense Angel food-cake and a green grocery bag sits on her arm; her long sandy hair is in a neat braid crown and her striped-green dress swishes lightly. "Yup! Are the strawberries ready?"

Marissa runs the sink tap water over the strawberries before setting the colander on a plate. "All done, now, where's your dad? Did you just leave him out there to do the heavy lifting?"

"Noooo," Poppy protests, stretching out the word as she sets the cake on the kitchen table and gives Marissa her signature doe-eyed look, "he said he didn't need any help, Mommy."

The backdoor opens again, revealing Ryan with two large grocery bags in each hand. He begins unpacking the items and Marissa goes over to help him, sharing a quick kiss in greeting. "Hey. Christine said she's on her way."

"Okay," Marissa turns to Poppy, "You wanna get the plates and forks ready, please?"

"On it!" Poppy chirps, running around the kitchen hurriedly as Marissa takes the lid off the cake and grabs homemade whipped cream out of the fridge. The front door suddenly clicks open, causing Poppy to squeal with joy as Ryan and Marissa share excited smiles. "SHE'S HERE!"

Poppy sprints to the front with Beau on her heels as Marissa follows with Ryan, his hand pressed to the small of her back. Christine is slipping off her Converse, still in her yellow soccer uniform, wheat-coloured hair in a messy bun and her face is slightly flushed with leftover exertion from her playoffs game. Poppy gives her an enthusiastic hug, the two of them grinning happily and Marissa's heart warms; most people say her daughters look more like her, and maybe it's true at first glance, but when they smile, she sees Ryan in them.

Poppy releases her sister and Marissa gives Christine a hug, kisses her sweaty hair and rubs her back. "That was such a great game, you did so good. Congratulations on a wonderful season."

"Thanks, Mom," Marissa lets Ryan go in for a hug, watches as he ruffles Christine's hair and claps her shoulder.

"You were the best one out there," he declares, "I'm so proud, you were awesome. I think next season, Coach Lafferty will make you captain."

"We got you something to celebrate," Marissa puts her hands on Christine's shoulders and steers her towards the kitchen, "It's your favourite, Chris…"

"Yes!" Christine exclaims at the sight of Angel food-cake, whipped cream and fresh strawberries on the table, "It looks so good, oh my god, now I'm starving. I need a nice thick slice."

"Okay, okay," Marissa laughs, grabbing a knife to cut the cake, "I'll cut you the biggest piece, promise."

Ryan's phone rings as Marissa's cutting cake slices and their daughters are giggling about something as they slather whipped cream and strawberries on their plates - normally, he'd shut it off right away, especially at home, but he checks the caller ID. She automatically knows who's calling and why by the look on his face; she knows him very well by now, it's a plain fact, having met at fifteen, together for twenty-one years and married for sixteen. She's gotten very good at reading him, she sees his face freeze for a split second, his eyes go flat and his jaw clench.

"Sorry, I have to take this," he murmurs, stepping away from the kitchen and he disappears down the hallway. Their daughters pay him no mind, shoving food into their mouths at an obscene rate but Marissa's eyes keep flicking back to the hallway entrance doorway.

"Mom?" Christine's radiant expression falters and Poppy looks between them curiously, "You okay? You haven't had any cake."

"Of course, sorry," Marissa smiles reassuringly, a soothing balm to ease any potential concerns. Her daughters relax and keep eating, discussing Christine's soccer game and Marissa joins in, pretending like everything's alright. Like her world isn't close to splintering into tiny pieces.

Ryan comes back ten minutes later with apologies and arm hugs and kisses to their heads. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I'm here, let's eat some cake."

"Where did you go?" Poppy frowns, the corners of her mouth dotted with whipped cream.

"I had an important work call, I'm sorry, I'm here now. What did Coach Lafferty and Coach Fu say about the game, Christine?" Ryan asks and Christine launches into detail as Marissa silently slides over a plate for him. She doesn't entirely trust herself to speak, not right now.

When Ryan's cancer diagnosis came back positive, at first Marissa thought it was a mistake. The hospital must've mixed up or misplaced files, called the wrong number, received incorrect results, a simple misdiagnosis must've been the cause. Because there was no way Ryan, her Ryan, could possibly be sick.

Marissa knew her own life had hung in the balance more than once - overdosing in Tijuana, Oliver, a very close call at high school graduation concerning Volchok, not to mention dealing with her own mental health issues. She's had more than her own fair share of troubles, some she definitely could've handled better looking back but it hasn't been like that in years. Even her own relationship with Ryan was tumultuous at times during high school, there were moments where it felt like a gulf laid between them, when becoming friends felt impossible and he'd haunt her, the first ghost in a line of many.

But that hasn't been her reality for years. Ryan is the love of her life, her husband and the father of her children, he's strong and brave and caring, he's ingrained in her. She never thought she could ever truly lose him.

Until the possibility presented itself.


Marissa peers through the shoe shelf in the closet, past Poppy's floppy gold sandals and Ryan's steel-toed boots to pull out a bright pair of running sneakers.

She woke up at five a.m., unable to fall back asleep and left with a jittery sort of restless energy she couldn't seem to shake. She rarely went for runs anymore - even when she was younger, she'd only jog every few days, but it was a good way to release energy. She quietly put on sports leggings and a loose shirt over a sports bra while Ryan slept soundly, face buried in a pillow and Marissa pressed a kiss to his shoulder before leaving.

She cautiously shuts the door, locking it and walks down the front pathway. The air is still chilly for Northern California, light clouds dusting the sky and the steadily rising sun tints the road gold. Marissa breaks into a light jog, feet thumping on the cement sidewalk as she runs past trimmed hedges and farmhouse-style houses, the past coming back to her in waves.

She spent two wonderful years in Greece after high school, working aboard a yacht and doing the kind of manual labour that would've made her mom faint. In the end, she came back to California to start at Berkeley's social work program and resume her life there. Ryan was already halfway into his program, busy with an internship and happily dating someone else, she didn't come back thinking he was the one, nor did she suspect they'd ever get back together.

It took them three years until they finally got together again, and now she thinks herself a conman, for being so careless about her time with Ryan. She should've called, emailed, texted more, driven down to more holiday get-togethers, asked Ryan to study together or just plain-kissed him in the moments where she wanted to but never did.

She thinks about her girls. Sandra Christine Atwood-Cooper, stubborn and fierce, named after the people who gave Ryan his first real home, only seven when she successfully convinced everyone to call her Christine instead of Sandra. They'd been trying for a year and a half, gone through one first-trimester miscarriage before the pregnancy test finally came back positive. Trying for Poppy took even longer - three years, two miscarriages, one six months in that hurt far more than the others. That made things strained and difficult for a while - but they got through it together. They always did. And then she got her little Poppy Juliet, sweet and enthusiastic, who loves animals and gives hugs all the time to everyone. It took months for her to bring Ryan around to the name Poppy; he stoutly refused, declared it stupid and a poor choice, but she gently persuaded him it was the right name for their youngest.

And there is still so much they haven't done together yet; she wants to keep travelling with him, watch his face turn wrinkly and hair go grey, watch their daughters grow into beautiful strong women. They need more time, he deserves more time, and Marissa wants more. Maybe it's selfish, what she has with Ryan is more than what most people get but still. Still. If she ends up with only her memories, she wonders if they'll be enough to live on. Deep down, she knows the answer but she is so afraid of what it'll mean for her.

Marissa keeps running steadily down the paved sidewalk. She does not falter or lose her stride, her jaw is set and her feet slap down on the ground firmly.


Marissa sits in the small office room in the house, drafting up an email on the desktop Mac computer. The room is usually occupied by her or Ryan when they need to work at home, sometimes Poppy for school or Christine when she wants to be somewhere quiet. A beige armchair sits in the corner by the window, plied with thick wool blankets. A large framed poster of Journey's Infinity album hangs on the wall. A white shelf is lined with souvenirs from past trips, books of all genres and photo frames of loved ones. Their family with Seth and Summer's on an outing to Six Flags. Marissa with Julie and Kaitlin at a Christmas party, holding a two-year-old Christine. Their trip to Machu Picchu. Ryan and Marissa's first dance at their wedding reception.

Poppy's footsteps creak upstairs, running all over in preparation for Marissa to paint her nails for school the next day. The faint sound of rock music plays, most likely coming from Christine's room. Marissa left Ryan in the living room where he was watching a football game with Beau stretched across his lap.

She sends off an email to her supervisor and pulls up her outline for work's newest community outreach program when Ryan wanders in. "Hey."

"Hi," he replies and settles behind her, wrapping his arms around her neck. His face dips against her hair and presses a quick kiss to her head as she leans into his touch and clasps her hands around his wrists. "How's the Equity Food Systems program coming along?"

"A lot of waiting to hear back from people and emails and meetings, but we're getting there. Teamwork is hard," she chuckles weakly, "I just keep reminding myself that there are families who are depending on this launch."

"It's gonna be great," he murmurs reassuringly, "You're creating an amazing thing. I'm proud of you."

She tilts her head back. "I love you."

I love the grey hairs around your temples, she thinks. The way you take care of our daughters. How you hold me and smile, all teeth and unabashed. She doesn't say I love you all the time, but now she wants to get it out. Let it all out if there comes a time she can never say it again to him.

"I love you, too," they stay still for a moment, lingering in the quiet of their home before Ryan speaks cautiously. "I'm gonna tell Seth and Sandy and Kirsten the news tomorrow, over the phone after work. But you don't have to be there if you don't want to."

She shuts her eyes briefly. No one knows about his cancer diagnosis, not even their girls and in that, Marissa was still safe and content with that peace. In a sense, it made the news less real but now the gates have to flood open. They'll deliver the news to his parents, Seth and Summer, Julie and Dr. Roberts, their friends, everyone will find out and that's another kind of grief she'll have to reconcile with. But she'll get back up and deal with it. Ryan is still here, he isn't gone and she'll fight for that goddamn fact no matter what.

"Of course I'll be there. Just let me know when and we'll tell them together."

He kisses her forehead, an unspoken thank you exchanged. Footsteps pound on the staircase, Poppy bursting into the room with an excited grin. "Mommy! Are you ready to paint my nails?"

"Ready, Miss P," Marissa chirps, getting up from her seat.

"Any chance I can join in on girls' night?" Ryan jokes lightly, giving Poppy beseeching eyes.

"Sorry, Dad, no boys allowed! Maybe next time you and Beau can join," Poppy shakes her head, grabbing Marissa's hand and tugs her out of the room just before she smiles at Ryan.


Marissa watches the chaos of the early weekday morning, dressed in a navy blazer and a black jumpsuit, slathering jam on two pieces of toast as everyone else chats while eating breakfast. Christine is rambling nervously about a history quiz, face creased worriedly as she drags her spoon through her bowl of cereal. Poppy is packing snacks into her lunch bag as she munches on syrup-drenched Eggo waffles, proudly showing her nails to Ryan; he ruffles her hair, a smile on his face before he turns to Christine to offer words of encouragement.

Ryan's mine, Marissa thinks, he belongs to me, not to death. He belongs to their daughters, to his parents and Seth, to his job, to every little thing in life. She is not a young girl anymore, she knows strength and she will fight with everything she has to keep him here.

Christine asks Marissa a question, drawing her attention and she smiles, going to sit down with her family.


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