Author's Note: Okay all, this is my first story posted on
Fanfiction.net, and also my first O.C. fic ever, so be nice! Heh JK, if it
sucks REALLY bad I can take some constructive criticism (. In any case,
this was just something I wrote on a whim one night, I've got other
chapters in reserve, but I'll decide whether or not to post more by whether
or not I receive any reviews. You don't HAVE to review, but it's always
nice to know people are reading. Okay rambling now... here it is, hope you
enjoy...
Sick
By: KTP
Disclaimer: Sometimes I wonder whether I should bother writing these things... I almost feel like I'm degrading the almighty creators of The O.C. by even suggesting that they would take time out of their busy lives to read my work... but just in case, I own nothing. Hyuck hyuck hyuck.
Ryan opened his eyes to find that daylight had crept through the blinds of the pool house, illuminating his room - which was spinning. Quickly shutting his eyes again, he shook his head. Dizzy. Why was he dizzy? He couldn't recall any recent head injuries acquired in fights... no, he'd given that up for the Cohens. He obviously hadn't been drinking; he'd seen what that could do to people. So what then? Opening his eyes again, he found that the shelves that stored the towels were not moving quite so fast, and in fact were slowing down until they came to a halt. Glancing around him once again, just to be sure it was over, Ryan sighed and again shook his head to clear it. He stood up slowly, and pulled on a white tee shirt and his black and gray hooded sweatshirt. Having slept with his jeans on, he didn't need to worry about that, and made for the door, which he stepped through into a brisk morning in the O.C.
Strolling across the patio to the Cohen's back door, he entered the kitchen, where Seth was standing in front of the stove, which was letting off a light air of smoke.
"What's going on?" Ryan inquired, abruptly enough to make Seth jump as he spun around to face his sort-of-brother.
"Geez, man! Don't sneak up on a guy like that! Make me mess this thing up," he rebuked, turning back to what he was cooking on the stove. Ryan could now see that it was a smoky skillet.
"What is in there, Seth?" Ryan asked, a slight air of exasperation in his voice.
"This, my friend, is Fromeletaconoast," the dark haired teen announced proudly, leaving Ryan near speechless.
"Um... g'bless you?" was the best thing he could come up with in response to Seth's inane babble. This drew a sigh of annoyance from said babbler, who turned around and offered an explanation. "Okay, it's like," Seth began, screwing up his face in thought as he tried to decide the best way to describe what he was cooking, "well, there's french toast, so I put the FR at the beginning, and the OAST at the end. Now, between the two slices of french toast is an omelet, complete with cheese, peppers, and bacon. I stuck the 'omelet' in right after the FR from the toast, and put the last four letters of 'bacon' right after the 'omelet' and right before the OAST. So, ya put em all together, and whaddya get?"
Ryan stared at Seth, then looked at what was in the skillet.
"Charcoal?"
Seth spun around and with a squeal took the skillet off the stove, which was now smoking quite profusely and filling the kitchen with a cloud of eye watering haze. Setting the Fromeletaconoast aside, Seth switched on the fan above the stove, which began to clear out the smog permeating the room rather quickly.
Ryan strode casually over to get a better look at Seth's creation, which now sat smoldering beside the kitchen sink. It actually wasn't entirely ruined, there was some visible color other than black; he could make out some yellow and green, which he guessed would be the eggs and onions. His stomach lurched slightly, but the feeling passed quickly and he didn't give it a second thought.
Seth had noticed him 'admiring' the work at hand, and beamed.
"Eat your heart out, Emeril," stated Seth proudly.
"Bam," Ryan mumbled sarcastically, continuing to eye the black lump. "You don't like it?" asked Seth, sounding shocked.
"No, no it's good... it's... Cajun omelet," Ryan said decisively. "Cajun Fromeletaconoast," corrected Seth, and both boys chuckled. Seth sighed with satisfaction.
"Well, I guess we better get eating, then," he suggested, and, cutting the Fromeletaconoast down what was the closest he could get to the middle, put one half on each of two plates that he'd gotten out for Ryan and him.
"Where are your parents, anyway?" Ryan inquired as he watched, hoping he might be able to call upon the aid of Mrs. Cohen to give him an excuse to fend otherwise for breakfast. He knew he could cook better than Seth, but he didn't want to hurt his feelings, which would be extra-sensitive for all the pride that had swelled them.
"Dad took off with Mom for a day, to 'sort things out.' I'm guessing that'll be about the whole Cooper issue..." Seth cut off there, thinking the better of bringing up the subject of Marissa's father around Ryan. The blonde shrugged.
"So they're gone for the day, huh," he echoed, but Seth's words had already done their damage, he was off and worrying about her again. He really had to stop that... didn't he?
"That's what I said," Seth confirmed with a grin, "why, what did you have in mind?"
"Nothing," Ryan said, which was for the most part true. He felt more tired than usual, and he hoped a day of rest might be in order. But he also felt like he should go check on Marissa, to make sure she was okay. He didn't know why he felt this responsibility to her; it was surely a new feeling for him. But it was there, like an itch in his mind.
"You wanna hit the water?" Seth suggested, gesturing towards the garage door beyond which resided the skateboard and bike that would take them to the marina where Seth's sailboat waited. Ryan shrugged once again, and nodded as Seth began to indulge in his culinary creation. He stopped after two bites and stared at Ryan. "You're not eating," he informed him frankly. Ryan looked at the plate in front of him, then managed to grin back at Seth. He dug his fork into the Fromela... Fraconoastle... whatever. Maybe once he got some food in him he'd feel better.
Sick
By: KTP
Disclaimer: Sometimes I wonder whether I should bother writing these things... I almost feel like I'm degrading the almighty creators of The O.C. by even suggesting that they would take time out of their busy lives to read my work... but just in case, I own nothing. Hyuck hyuck hyuck.
Ryan opened his eyes to find that daylight had crept through the blinds of the pool house, illuminating his room - which was spinning. Quickly shutting his eyes again, he shook his head. Dizzy. Why was he dizzy? He couldn't recall any recent head injuries acquired in fights... no, he'd given that up for the Cohens. He obviously hadn't been drinking; he'd seen what that could do to people. So what then? Opening his eyes again, he found that the shelves that stored the towels were not moving quite so fast, and in fact were slowing down until they came to a halt. Glancing around him once again, just to be sure it was over, Ryan sighed and again shook his head to clear it. He stood up slowly, and pulled on a white tee shirt and his black and gray hooded sweatshirt. Having slept with his jeans on, he didn't need to worry about that, and made for the door, which he stepped through into a brisk morning in the O.C.
Strolling across the patio to the Cohen's back door, he entered the kitchen, where Seth was standing in front of the stove, which was letting off a light air of smoke.
"What's going on?" Ryan inquired, abruptly enough to make Seth jump as he spun around to face his sort-of-brother.
"Geez, man! Don't sneak up on a guy like that! Make me mess this thing up," he rebuked, turning back to what he was cooking on the stove. Ryan could now see that it was a smoky skillet.
"What is in there, Seth?" Ryan asked, a slight air of exasperation in his voice.
"This, my friend, is Fromeletaconoast," the dark haired teen announced proudly, leaving Ryan near speechless.
"Um... g'bless you?" was the best thing he could come up with in response to Seth's inane babble. This drew a sigh of annoyance from said babbler, who turned around and offered an explanation. "Okay, it's like," Seth began, screwing up his face in thought as he tried to decide the best way to describe what he was cooking, "well, there's french toast, so I put the FR at the beginning, and the OAST at the end. Now, between the two slices of french toast is an omelet, complete with cheese, peppers, and bacon. I stuck the 'omelet' in right after the FR from the toast, and put the last four letters of 'bacon' right after the 'omelet' and right before the OAST. So, ya put em all together, and whaddya get?"
Ryan stared at Seth, then looked at what was in the skillet.
"Charcoal?"
Seth spun around and with a squeal took the skillet off the stove, which was now smoking quite profusely and filling the kitchen with a cloud of eye watering haze. Setting the Fromeletaconoast aside, Seth switched on the fan above the stove, which began to clear out the smog permeating the room rather quickly.
Ryan strode casually over to get a better look at Seth's creation, which now sat smoldering beside the kitchen sink. It actually wasn't entirely ruined, there was some visible color other than black; he could make out some yellow and green, which he guessed would be the eggs and onions. His stomach lurched slightly, but the feeling passed quickly and he didn't give it a second thought.
Seth had noticed him 'admiring' the work at hand, and beamed.
"Eat your heart out, Emeril," stated Seth proudly.
"Bam," Ryan mumbled sarcastically, continuing to eye the black lump. "You don't like it?" asked Seth, sounding shocked.
"No, no it's good... it's... Cajun omelet," Ryan said decisively. "Cajun Fromeletaconoast," corrected Seth, and both boys chuckled. Seth sighed with satisfaction.
"Well, I guess we better get eating, then," he suggested, and, cutting the Fromeletaconoast down what was the closest he could get to the middle, put one half on each of two plates that he'd gotten out for Ryan and him.
"Where are your parents, anyway?" Ryan inquired as he watched, hoping he might be able to call upon the aid of Mrs. Cohen to give him an excuse to fend otherwise for breakfast. He knew he could cook better than Seth, but he didn't want to hurt his feelings, which would be extra-sensitive for all the pride that had swelled them.
"Dad took off with Mom for a day, to 'sort things out.' I'm guessing that'll be about the whole Cooper issue..." Seth cut off there, thinking the better of bringing up the subject of Marissa's father around Ryan. The blonde shrugged.
"So they're gone for the day, huh," he echoed, but Seth's words had already done their damage, he was off and worrying about her again. He really had to stop that... didn't he?
"That's what I said," Seth confirmed with a grin, "why, what did you have in mind?"
"Nothing," Ryan said, which was for the most part true. He felt more tired than usual, and he hoped a day of rest might be in order. But he also felt like he should go check on Marissa, to make sure she was okay. He didn't know why he felt this responsibility to her; it was surely a new feeling for him. But it was there, like an itch in his mind.
"You wanna hit the water?" Seth suggested, gesturing towards the garage door beyond which resided the skateboard and bike that would take them to the marina where Seth's sailboat waited. Ryan shrugged once again, and nodded as Seth began to indulge in his culinary creation. He stopped after two bites and stared at Ryan. "You're not eating," he informed him frankly. Ryan looked at the plate in front of him, then managed to grin back at Seth. He dug his fork into the Fromela... Fraconoastle... whatever. Maybe once he got some food in him he'd feel better.