Disclaimer: The OC is owned by someone with much more money than me.

Author's note: I should have posted yesterday but I toyed around a bit with incorporating a small annoying dog nipping at Seth. Then I decided that if I did that, this fluff would have indeed have jumped the shark. So here it is, in its original riveting format. I'm very sorry if the posting delay drove anyone into his or her therapist's office.

Oh, and I absolutely MUST clear up a developing controversy. Yes, Julie Cooper is a Newpsie. But this is a small gathering, a committee of only seven. And Julie's not a member of this particular committee. But don't worry; she gets a shout-out this 'chapter'. Whew, hope now the plot is one hundred percent believable, (cough, cough.).

Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone. I must say, fluff is much more easier to write than the angst. Sigh.

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A Small Favor

Chapter Four

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"Explain to me why I have to put money out when I don't even know if I want to play," Mrs. Foster nudges Ryan on the arm. "This is very confusing. I don't think I like this."

"It's called an ante," Ryan patiently explains for the fourth time. "You have to put money in the pot in order to play."

"Pot?" Monica Standish looks up with some interest from a magazine she is browsing through. "Oh, poker, right. Just conversation surfing darlings, sorry."

"I don't think we should play with real money," Ryan says, trying to shake Mrs. Foster's right hand from his bicep. "We should play with pennies or something."

Mrs. Standish laughs lightheartedly, "Pennies. Really, you are a breath of fresh air Ryan."

"Actually Ryan, technically, pennies are real money," Seth reminds him. Ryan glares.

"Ok, so," Ryan tries to salvage the poker game that has yet to start. "Does everybody have their ante in?"

"My drink is empty," Mrs. Halsey whines.

"Mine too," another Newpsie pesters.

"We could play one hand and then make more drinks," Ryan suggests, hoping to distract the women from another round of screwdrivers. It's only been ten or fifteen minutes since he last refreshed their glasses. Where the hell is Kirsten?

"Let's take a vote," Monica suggests. "Who wants another drink?"

All six Newpsies raise their hands.

"Majority rules," Mrs. Standish gestures. "Boys, back to the kitchen."

Seth removes himself from the end table that is acting as an impromptu poker table.

"Come on Ryan, duty calls." He grimaces and waves conciliating at Mrs. Halsey.

Afraid to turn his back on the women, Ryan steps backwards into the kitchen, pulling Seth along with him.

"We can't give them more drinks Seth, Kirsten is going to kill us."

"This might be a good time to point out, yet again, that I'm only responsible for the popcorn."

Ryan smacks Seth's arm.

"Dude, stop hitting me." Seth complains. "We seriously need to install a punching bag in the pool house. Displaced Aggression Ryan, Goggle it and have a read."

"Well we have to do something." Ryan insists. "Kirsten is going to be home any minute."

Seth snaps his fingers. "We'll make coffee."

"Coffee?" Ryan asks doubtfully, and raises his eyebrows.

"Coffee." Seth confirms. He walks over to a cabinet, produces a bag of freshly grounded coffee.

"Hazelnut Delight," Seth announces proudly, kisses and hugs the bag.

"Seth? Ryan?" Mrs. Halsey summons from the living room. "You boys need any help in there?"

Seth peeks around the corner. "No Mrs. Halsey thanks. We've got it covered."

She winks at him and Seth immediately pulls his head back.

"I'll get the coffee pot,' he hurriedly tells Ryan.

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"This is coffee," Mrs. Foster grumbles.

"Never could get a damn thing past you Gretchen," Mrs. Standish quips sarcastically.

"I don't want coffee," a Newpsie pouts. "Monica get the blonde boy to make more drinks."

"We've moved past that Tish," Monica gently chides, "His name is Ryan."

"Oh," Tish Martin sits duly chastised. "Sorry." She pauses a moment before starting her thought over. "Monica, tell Ryan to make us more drinks."

"The vodka is gone," Seth blurts out. "All gone. Ryan...dropped the bottle. Big shatter." Seth mocks an explosion with his hands. "Glass everywhere, many lives were lost. Right Ryan?"

Ryan exaggerates a nod in collaboration.

"Is that the best you two can come up with?" Monica asks with amusement.

"Yeah," Seth comes clean. "Pretty much."

"I'm home," a familiar voce rings out.

"Thank God," Ryan mumbles.

"So, how is everyone?" Kirsten inquires as she breezes into the room with several bags in her hands.

"Your pool boy is teaching us how to play poker," Mrs. Foster informs Kirsten, holding five cards up in the air.

"Kirsten, where did you get this delicious popcorn? It's the best ever." Another Newpsie asks.

Kirsten stares at her and blinks.

"Seth's hair is so springy." Mrs. Halsey contributes excitedly.

"Boys. Kitchen. Now." Kirsten commands through a fake smile.

"Kirsten sweetie, did you bring home any appetizers?" Monica Standish inquires innocently.

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"Are those women drunk?" Kirsten tries to emphasize her question while keeping her voice level in check.

"Not all of them." Seth counters. She swipes at his arm.

"Ouch!" gripes Seth. "Why are people hitting me?"

"Why is my Newpsie Landscaping Committee sitting in the living room three sheets to the wind Seth?" Kirsten ignores his protest.

"It's all my fault," Ryan confesses. "They wanted screwdrivers."

"And you actually made them?" Kirsten asks with angry astonishment.

"Don't be silly Kirsten," Monica interrupts the three of them. "I made the drinks. The boys made the popcorn. I'm not sure who's responsible for the poker."

Kirsten studies the teenagers carefully. "Is that true?"

Seth hem-haws without really committing. Ryan remains silent, mentally weighing his options. Mrs. Standish continues.

"Kirsten, about those appetizers."

"This isn't over you two," Kirsten hisses as she drops the bags on the kitchen counter.

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Seth and Ryan lay on the lounge chairs by the pool, sneaking occasional glances into the house. Kirsten hasn't emerged from her Newpsie meeting yet.

"This is totally screwy that we're in trouble," Seth grumbles. "We were only doing what she wanted. It's not our fault that the cream of the Newport crop is a bunch of boozers."

"Seth." Ryan rolls over on the lounger, "When Kirsten comes out, ... don't...say...anything."

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"I like your newest addition." Monica whispers to Kirsten as they sit on the sofa, watching the rest of the Newpsies engage in a few minutes of post meeting gossip.

"Ryan?" Kirsten asks.

Monica nods. "He's awfully good with Seth. Come to mention it, I don't think I've ever seen your son so confident or carefree."

Kirsten smiles. "Ryan's been wonderful for Seth."

Monica picks up her purse, prepares to leave. "Julie Cooper called a few days ago, told me all about him. She seems to think he's a juvenile delinquent whose presence is either going to drop all of our property values or cause our sweet, naive children to hold an uprising."

Kirsten's smile fades away. She stares blankly out at her fellow Newpsies.

"You know," Mrs. Standish says wistfully, "A lot of things have changed in the year I've been gone. But Julie Cooper is still a grade A bitch."

Kirsten turns to Monica and gives her a quick hug. "I've missed you Monica."

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Kirsten exits her home's back door, sees the two boys waiting for her by the pool.

Ryan clambers to get up while Seth remains seated.

Kirsten tosses the car keys to Ryan. "Thanks for covering for me guys. Why don't you two go catch a movie? Be home by ten though, it's a school night."

Seth is suddenly motivated to stand up. "Well ok mother, now we're talking. Ryan, let's bounce man."

Ryan doesn't move. He jingles the keys in his hands nervously. "I, uh, I made the drinks, not Mrs. Standish."

"Ryan!" Seth shushes under his breath. "Let's not disappoint the Kirsten. She wants to show her gratitude."

"I made the drinks," Ryan reiterates.

Seth flops his hands to his side and sits back down with a sigh.

"Oh, I figured that out Ryan," Kirsten assures the teen. "Don't do that again. Now go, have a good time."

Seth claps his hands together and springs off the lounger.

"And Seth," Kirsten walks over to him, puts her hand on his shoulder, "Don't ever hang up on me."

"Absolutely not ever." Seth vows. "Never ever." He places two fingers over his heart and his head on his mother's shoulder. "Scouts honor."

"God, get him out of here," Kirsten implores of Ryan while pushing Seth off her shoulder.

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Kirsten follows the boys out of the house, smiles as Seth argues over who should drive. Her biological son wins out over the foster one and as Ryan is climbing into the Rover, Kirsten motions him over.

"Make sure you're home by ten," she repeats her guidelines.

Ryan nods, "Okay," adds mischievously, "Scouts honor."

As he walks back to the car Kirsten calls after him, "Oh, and Ryan? Monica Standish says welcome to the neighborhood."

The teenager drops his head and sheepishly grins.

As the car pulls out of the driveway, Kirsten hears Seth shout out the driver's window, "Mom! We need more vodka. And put away the cheese."

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The End....Finis.....There is no more. I'm signing autographs at the table by the door.