Disclaimer: The OC is owned by someone with much more money than me.
Author's Note: I can't believe I got reviews for this piece of fluff. You guys are great. And some of you actually expect a plot. Sigh. These waters do not run deep folks. As always, thanks for reading, although I suspect I may lose a few of you after this effort.
Clap and tip of the hat to Liz the beta.
--------------------------------------------
A Small Favor
Chapter Two
--------------------------------------------
Ryan retrieves a coaster and gently places a glass in front of Monica Standish. He's filled her drink too high and is concentrating hard on not spilling any of it.
Monica inspects the glass, delicately smells it, nods in approval and takes a dainty sip.
"That," she smiles at Ryan, "is one well made drink."
Ryan sneaks a peek at her. He's not sure what to say. He's sixteen. Making a competent screwdriver isn't really something he should be proud of, or at the very least advertise to Kirsten's friends. He slinks away without acknowledging the woman's comment.
The other five Newpsies follow Monica's lead, sipping their drinks and making polite compliments to Ryan as he exits the living room and goes back into the kitchen to find Seth.
"Why didn't you help me in there?" he hits Seth on the arm.
"Ow," Seth rubs at his smarting appendage. "Would you please stop man- handling me?"
"Well you're not helping!" Ryan jeers, trying to sound assertive without raising his voice.
"I got the glasses," Seth defends himself.
Ryan lowers his head and raises his eyebrows. Seth can be so positively full of shit sometimes. "Did you at least cut up the cheese?" He asks exasperated.
Seth points to the kitchen counter where at least five packages of deli sliced cheese are lying.
"Start cutting it up." Ryan directs Seth.
"How?" Seth questions.
"You don't know how to cut up cheese?" Ryan asks amazed.
"I don't know, it's cheese." Seth rationalizes. "Isn't it already sliced? Besides, I think it's supposed to be in chunks. We need chunky cheese Ryan. Do we have any toothpicks? We need chunks of cheese and toothpicks." Seth raises a finger to the flat cheese, "I can't work under these conditions. You can't spear flat cheese. I mean you could, but then it just breaks apart when you try and lift it, and then you're back to a slice of flat cheese with no way of picking it up other than using your fingers. But even that is tricky because sometimes it kind of molds to the surface it's resting on, unless it's frozen but frozen cheese sucks, so...Hey, have you read The Cheese Monkeys? It's a kick-ass book. Cheese and monkeys, both in the title, how could you go wrong?"
Ryan stares at him.
"Ok, well," Seth shrugs, "Maybe they'll settle for popcorn. Go in there and push the Orville Redenbacher."
Ryan puts his hands to his head and rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes. His head snaps up when he hears Mrs. Standish call out, "Sweetie, can you come here a moment please?"
Ryan points to the living room, commands Seth, "You go in there."
Seth adamantly shakes his head no.
Ryan pushes him into the living room.
"Seth, honey, is that you?" Monica asks playfully. "Look at how much you've grown. What are you in now, eighth grade?"
Seth smiles, his teeth clamped together. He nods and answers, "Yes Mrs. Standish, how good of you to notice, seventh grade was a bitch but thanks, I managed to squeak by."
Monica cackles, dismisses Seth's comments with a wave of her hand, "You do have your father's razor-sharp wit. I'm just having a little fun darling, I know you're a junior."
"Ahh," Seth responds dryly, making a helpless face in Ryan's direction.
"Now where is the blond one?" Monica asks. She spots Ryan behind Seth. "Oh, there you are, come over here sweetie, tell me, who exactly are you? I don't recognize you." She pats the seat next to her on the couch.
Ryan shudders.
Seth tries to help with distraction. "Um, Mrs. Standish? I thought you were living in the South of France."
"Ugh!" Monica takes a large gulp of her drink. "I was. Then I caught John- Paul sleeping with a seventeen-year-old maid. The girl didn't even have good skin."
One of the Newpsies clicks her tongue and says, "I am so sorry Monica. What a rat."
Monica takes another drink, "Yep, he's a bastard. At least I never bother to change my name anymore. Saves time."
The Newpsies nod among themselves, and Ryan tries to retreat into the kitchen.
"Blond boy," Monica's voice drifts to him, "Come here, not so fast." She pats the sofa again. Smiles.
"Um, Mrs. Standish," Seth attempts to save Ryan from a Close Encounter of the Newpsie Kind, "This is Ryan Atwood. Ryan, this is Mrs. Standish."
She waves enthusiastically from across the room.
"Ryan lives here now." Seth adds clumsily.
"Are you Kirsten's son?" Mrs. Standish asks with false innocence.
One of the Newpsies chokes on her drink. "Monica," she chastises. "Behave."
"Well he looks just like her." Mrs. Standish offers.
"Uh, I was having some trouble at home and the Cohens took me in," Ryan mumbles. "They've been great."
Monica softens at Ryan's frank confession. "Sandy and Kirsten are good people," she agrees, winks at Ryan, "And you are quite the gentleman, so obviously things are working out well."
She quickly changes the subject, turns to another sofa full of Newpsies and inquires as to what has been going on since she left for France last year.
Seth and Ryan take advantage of the momentary diversion to beat a speedy withdrawal back to the kitchen.
Ryan leans against the wall and closes his eyes.
"Want to borrow that knife now?" Seth asks.
-----------------------------------
To be continued...despite lingering reservations.