Title: The Game, Part Three
Author: Kate Monster
Rating: PG to be safe
Summary: Set between "The Secret" and "The Best Chrismukkah Ever". The fall soccer season is over, and it's time to... celebrate? Or at least shake things up a little.
Disclaimer: Characters by the great and powerful Josh Schwartz. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.

PART THREE

Thanks much to Shelbecat for technical assistance with the following!

Together, Seth and Ryan followed Luke to the hallway, and down a flight of stairs.  Ryan glanced at the walls as they made their way down.  Pictures of the Saunders family.  Beaming at him.  Rich bastards.  They were all rich bastards.  All of them.  The whole damn...

Ryan blinked as he stumbled into the room at the bottom of the stairs.  He suddenly felt as if he'd stepped back in time, into the pool hall Trey used to drag him to on Thursday nights, complete with smoky haze, bar mirrors bouncing their logos through the room, and a pool table. 

This was Chip's house? 

Three of the guys were prowling the table with their sticks in hand.  The infamous pinball machine was beeping furiously in the corner.  Derek was apparently losing to it, and a couple more girls and guys were lounging on an old sofa.

He almost expected to see Eddie and Francis and Arturo lurking in the shadows, smelling like motor oil and marijuana.  It was about the only thing missing.  Well, the marijuana wasn't, Ryan noticed, sniffing the air.  The kids on the sofa seemed to have that covered.  He squinted through the haze at the group.  Was that really a bong made from a Dr. Pepper bottle...?

"Welcome to Club Saunders," Luke said, an air of mystery in his delivery.

Seth wrinkled his nose against the smoke.  "It looks like a basement and smells like cigarettes."  He coughed.  "And... other things."

Ryan frowned.  He was about five minutes from a nicotine craving.  This was no good.

"Oh!"  A cry came up from the pool table, where Andy, Thomas and Javier had just finished their game, Javier sinking the 8-ball.

"Next?" Thomas asked, looking around and spotting the intruders.  "Hey.  Ward. Chino. And Cohen!  Three on three?"

"I don't-" Ryan started to say.

"Hell yeah," Luke said, snatching a stick from the wall.  He grinned wickedly at Ryan and Seth.

"Um," Seth said to Ryan.  Ryan grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side as Luke sidled up to the guys to confirm the challenge.

"Now," Ryan said under his breath, "is not the time to pick a fight with Luke."

"Why not?" Seth demanded.  "Not like he could even see through all the smoke in here."  He coughed and waved a hand in front of his face.  "Not like he'd remember with all that Beast, either.  We could just run away, dude, he would never know."

"Stop coughing," Ryan ordered.  Seth just goggled at him.  "Look.  Thomas was dogging Luke all night at dinner."

"And we're – what?  Taking Luke's side?"

Ryan raised his eyebrows.  "Feel free to take Thomas's."

"Yeah.  I could, couldn't I?  Or, we could – I don't know, leave?"

"Later.  We'll leave.  Later."

"Spoilsport."  Seth quickly shut up as Luke appeared in front of them, holding out cue sticks and Beast.

Seth took his and stared at the stick.  He turned it back and forth.  "Um..."

Luke leaned in.  "So.  You guys any good?  Cause Andy wants to play for money."

Seth shot a pleading look at Ryan.

"Fine," Ryan said.  He leaned over.  "Don't worry.  I'll help you with the game," he whispered.  "Just – I don't have money.  On me.  I mean.  I'll pay you back later?"

Seth raised his eyebrows.  "And at what point do I get to start saying 'I told you this was a bad idea'?"

"Later."

"Roger that."

"Twenty each," Javier said as he maneuvered around the table.  "Cohen?"

Seth sighed, reaching for his wallet.  "Him and me both," he said, slapping forty on the table, seeing Ryan wince out of the corner of his eye.  He glanced directly at Ryan, who looked away.  "We're in."

"Standard rules," Luke said, pointing his stick at Thomas.  "Eight-ball, highs versus lows.  First one to sink calls it.  Last one in is the 8-ball, call the shot."

Seth glanced helplessly at Ryan.

"Don't tell me you never played before."

"Um," Seth said yet again.  His eyes flicked away.

"At all?  Seth.  You have a pool table.  In your student lounge.  At school."

Seth stared back at him and Ryan shrugged.  Okay, to be fair, kids like Seth didn't get all that much access to the pool table at lunchtime.  "Well," Seth mused, "Cousin Jeffrey and I used to play at his house in Boston, except we didn't really use rules.  Or sticks, really..."

It was Ryan's turn to gape.  "How-?"  Seth flicked his wrist impatiently, demonstrating.  "You have got to be kidding me."

"I was twelve.  Okay, when you were twelve, you were smoking and drinking in pool halls.  I know.  This is me we're talking about."

"Don't say smoking," Ryan groaned, shaking his head.  He leaned over.  "Okay. Use your brain.  Watch me.  You took geometry, right?"

"Two years ago.  Yes.  I got a B-plus."

"Okay.  Uh.  Good.  That's good.  It's geometry, geometry and physics.  Just think and keep your head clear, and your hands steady."

Seth frowned.  "I've had, like, three beers."

"Two."

He held up the half-empty Beast.  "Four."

"Seth!"  Ryan exploded, loud enough to draw Luke over.

"Hey, guys, who's up first?"

Seth, wide-eyed, shook his head.

"I'll break," Ryan sighed.  He moved to the table, where Thomas had already readied the game, and leaned over the table, squaring his stick up with the balls.  After a few test thrusts, he rammed the stick over his index finger, scattering the balls across the table.  He pulled the stick back, satisfied, and moved across from Seth, just to keep the kid from getting more nervous and spilling their hand to Andy, Thomas or Javier.

"Lows," Javier said with satisfaction, knocking the five in.  He aimed again and missed.  "Fuck.  Next?"

Luke reached up to chalk his cue stick.  "Stripes, so we're stripes?"

"Go stripes," Seth chanted absent-mindedly.

Ryan wandered over beside Seth and carefully removed the Beast from his hand.

"Hey, hey, what are you doin', man?" Seth protested, his hands following automatically.

Ryan set the can of beer down on the table behind them.  "Don't get drunk.  We got forty bucks and some-odd pride on the line."

"And is this somehow my fault?  I came to this party with the sole purpose of getting drunk."  Seth reached around Ryan and reclaimed his drink.

"Dammit," Luke muttered from the table.  Ryan winced without looking.  There was no need.

"You're after Andy," he whispered to Seth.  "Ready?"

"No."  They turned to watch Andy miss his shot.  "Still no," Seth offered helpfully.

Ryan closed his eyes briefly before holding his hand out to Luke, who offered him the chalk.  "Here."  He took Seth's stick to color the tip.  "Good luck, buddy."  He clapped him on the back.  "Hit our balls, don't touch the 8-ball.  Oh, the ten is your best shot."

"Ten?" Seth asked helplessly, setting his beer down.

Ryan cringed.  "The blue one," he said slowly, pointing.  "Straight on.  It's a good shot."

The tip of Seth's tongue dangled from the side of his mouth as he bent over the table.  He rearranged his left hand several times before finally settling the shaft on it.  Ryan held his breath, watching as Seth aimed, aimed, aimed –

He shot.

The stick hit the cue ball sharply, causing it to jump in the air, landing with a loud crack a foot away.  It rolled a few more inches before bumping to a halt beside the solid purple ball.

Seth yanked the stick to his side and leaned back to whisper in Ryan's ear.  "Told you I sucked."

As Thomas moved around them with a smirk, Ryan grabbed Seth's elbow and pulled him back. "Okay.  Let's get drastic.  Next time I'm giving you the shot with my finger."

"Yeah.  I just bet you are."  He reached for his drink.

"I'm serious."  Ryan stopped, realizing.  "Not that finger."

Seth shook his head and took another chug of Beast.  "I'm not cheating."

"It's not."  Ryan stopped.  Luke was beckoning.  "Wait here."

He scanned the table and selected a shot.  He bent low over the table and, with a swift motion, launched the cue ball.  To his satisfaction, the target sunk cleanly in the pocket and the white ball rolled to a stop.  He pulled back to smirk at Thomas.

"Nice shot, Chino," Luke called out.  Ryan let his smirk fade and settled back to an appropriately surly expression for his next shot.

Miss.

The frown settled in deeper.  Ryan glanced at the stack of twenties sitting on the corner of the pool table.  This was no good.  No good at all...

Javier reached for the chalk.  "Heard they got a lot of hot air down in Chino."

"Heard it's hotter in Colombia," Ryan shot back, unsure of where to go but guessing that Javier's heritage was as good a place as any to start.  Javier seemed unsure of how to respond to that, and instead lined up a shot that sunk another ball.

"Aw, yeah, that's why it's hot in Colombia," Javier said as he prowled the perimeter of the table in search of his next angle.  He sank another ball.  "On fire."  Miss.

"C'mon, man, it's all you," Ryan sighed as Luke edged past them.

"You have no idea," Seth said under his breath.

"Hush now," Ryan muttered from the corner of his mouth.

Luke missed.

"We're doomed," Seth sing-songed to Ryan.

"Must you be so cynical?"

"I must."

Andy's next shot missed and Ryan made his way around the table, banging the butt of his stick against the floor as he went.  He could really use a smoke about right now.  He wondered what Chip's parents made of all the smoke in the house, then spotted an ash tray on a side table.  Go figure.

Ryan pointedly extended his hand, lining his finger up with Seth's shot.  Their eyes briefly met before Seth settled into the table, concentrating, breathing heavily.  It was all Ryan could do not to look away.

"Ow!"  Seth leapt about two feet in the air as the 10-ball sank into a pocket.  "Did you see that?  Did you? Wow!"

Ryan widened his eyes partly in amazement and partly in terror.  "Great shot."

"Yeah.  Who knew?  That was awesome!"  By now he'd made his way around the table to celebrate at Ryan's side.

"Seth.  Seth?  Seth!"  Ryan grabbed the top of Seth's stick and pointed it at the table.  "Take your next shot."

"Oh."  Seth stopped.  "Oh, right.  Right."

"Put the yellow one in the side pocket," Ryan suggested.  He moved away to offer a guide.  He held his breath as Seth aligned the shot, and sighed with disappointment as he hit the ball at an angle, sending it careening across the table into a corner pocket.

"Scratch," Thomas offered helpfully.  "Am I up?"

"Looks like," said Luke.

Trey.  Much as he hated to, Ryan couldn't help but wish for just a moment, a split fleeting second, that he was with Trey and not Seth.  Trey would have sunk that shot if he'd wanted to.  Trey never lost.

He blinked and glanced over at the kids passing the joint over on the couch.  Trey wasn't Seth.  He remembered that.  But still...

"Play it a little less cool, why don't you?" Ryan asked Seth politely under his breath.

Seth polished off the last of the Beast.  "Can I help it if my self-esteem just got a boost?"

"Yes," Ryan snapped.

"Sorry."

"Look, this is all about me and Luke, and those guys.  But you've got a reputation, too."

"Yes, and...?"

Ryan waited a beat.  "Work on it," he suggested, and turned away to watch Thomas sink two more balls before missing.

Ryan rounded the table, studying the angles, before leaning over the corner.  He held his breath, closed one eye, and jabbed his stick.  The cue ball hit one of his balls, knocking it to the wall, where it ricocheted, hit another, and then teetered perilously close to a hole.

"Aw!" Seth and Luke cried out as one, completely unaware of their synchrony.

"Next shot," Ryan said, and held his breath as he thought that through.  Luke.  Luke was next.  Was that good?  Or bad?

Javier missed.

"Weird angle," Ryan said under his breath to Luke.  "Just take it easy, go for the side.  Right on the edge."

"I know, I know," Luke said impatiently.

"No, you don't," Seth whined as Luke's shot slipped, sending the cue ball to the side.  Ryan winced as Andy stepped up, and moved back to Seth's side.

"Don't get too cocky," he whispered.  "Cocky looks bad."

"Cocky looks bad," Seth repeated obediently.  "Cocky looks bad."

"And for the love of all that is holy, keep it down."

"Right."

Andy had missed.  Ryan narrowed his eyes.  These guys weren't all that good.  Probably just drunk, he told himself.  Not that it helped.

"Okay," he muttered to Seth.  "Your shot is straight on dead center.  Watch me."  He wandered around the table, opened his arms, and casually set a finger on the table.

Seth took his time, to the point that Ryan wanted to smack him.  He angled the cue stick over and over, drew and aimed, peered at it until even Luke had had enough.

"Cohen!"

"Shhh!  I'm concentrating," Seth snapped, and it was all Ryan could do to keep his expression even.

Seth snapped the stick with a jerk and Ryan watched with amazement as his ball jolted the pair in and braked to a perfect halt.  He glanced up immediately at Seth's face, which was sufficiently neutral.

"I got it, I got it," Seth muttered to Ryan as he scooted around.  Once Ryan realized the shot he was going for, he cringed.

"No way," he said.

"You'll never get that," Luke added.  "The red one, go for the red one."

"Uh uh," Seth said.  "I got it."

"Seth."  Ryan shot him a warning look.  "C'mon."  He pointedly set a finger near the table edge.

"Nope."

"Seth!"

Crack.

Ryan watched in disbelief as Seth sent the ball ricocheting twice off the side to gently nudge another ball in. 

"Damn," Luke marveled. Seth kept a straight face as he circled the table.

"Played for, and got," Seth mumbled to Ryan as he scooted by.

Ryan leaned over.  "Since when are you the shark?"

"Since today, man.  Apparently.  Who knew?"

"Wait," Andy said abruptly, stepping forward.  "Wait.  No fair.  Atwood's giving you the shots."

Seth glanced at Ryan, worried.

"I didn't give him that last one," Ryan pointed out.  He folded his arms as Andy approached.  Seth beamed, turning back to Andy.  Andy looked somewhat confused, which wasn't really an altogether rare occurrence.

"He shoots on his own," Andy said pointedly, walking closer into Ryan's personal space.

"It's okay, team, I got the hang of this," Seth said a little too quickly.

Ryan glanced across the table at Luke, who was fingering his own cue stick nervously.  "You can't call rules now," Luke protested.

Ryan felt all eyes on him and tried to keep his poker face plastered on.  On the one hand... but on the other...  Damn. 

Two balls left on each side, and one 8-ball.  And Seth with a pool cue in his hand and several beers in his belly, waiting in full expectation.

"He shoots alone," Ryan sighed.  Andy beamed and turned back to his team.  Twenty bucks?  What was twenty bucks in Newport, anyway?  About three hours of barely-above-minimum wage work and tips to him, but not to the other guys. 

And pride?  Well, he'd given that up a long, long time ago when he decided to ditch convention and join Seth's team to begin with.  This was just somehow a natural continuation of that.

Satisfied, Seth bent over the table, preparing to take his shot.

To be continued...