A/N: I don't usually say this, since I figure you already know, but since I'm only using characters created by Josh Schwartz in this story, I better let you know that they're not mine. As per usual, my broke ass can't afford them. Oh, accept Jada, who is a fictionalized version of my goddaughter, (no lie) Summer. I don't really own her, either, though. So all I have to my name is a freezer full of Hot Pockets and this little tale of love and healing. Enjoy!
"Cohen, what are you doing?" Summer Roberts asked, barreling through the house she shared with her boyfriend, Seth Cohen.
"Um," Seth turned from his spot at the mini-bar in the screening room of the auspicious mansion they had purchased with the proceeds of his hugely popular comic ventures. "I thought I was watching The Valley that you TiVo'd last night, but judging from the look on your face, I am very, very wrong," he said, setting his beer on the table beside him and pausing the action on the screen.
"You are drinking a beer," she spat, her hands on her hips as she stood in front of the screen.
"Yes, I am. Because that is what I do when I have a blessed day off in my insane schedule," Seth nodded, taking another swig from the bottle.
Summer grabbed the beer from his hand and shook her head. "No. Uh-uh. Marissa is coming tonight and we are not going to have alcohol in this house when she gets here. It's not fair," she insisted.
Sighing, Seth switched the television off and leaned back in his chair. There was no way he was going to win this one. "So just because your best friend couldn't keep herself clean for the last five years, I have to suffer? In my own home?" he asked, standing to follow her out of the room. "The pink flowered duvet cover isn't enough punishment, Summer?"
When they had decided to move in together after Summer's college graduation, he had agreed that she could decorate any way she wanted. He had been happy to live in the brand new home for the first two months with two bean bag chairs, the big screen television, and a sleeping bag in the living room. In his opinion, all he needed was a place for him to hang out with Ryan when he wasn't working – some Playstation and dvd's were plenty. Summer disagreed, and had hired her father's interior designer to spend more of his money than he knew he had. And most of the time, he didn't even care. If it made his girl happy, it made him happy. But when she had done their bedroom in pink and brown, he had been a little more than squeamish.
She ignored him while she made her way to the kitchen and dumped the beer down the drain. "Seth, we always hide the alcohol when you're mom comes over. Why can't we do the same thing for my friend?"
Seth leaned against the refrigerator, his arms crossed as he watched her putter around, trying to scrub non-existent spots from every tiled surface. "You're really freaked about this, aren't you?" She rolled her eyes and went to the dishwasher, unloading the few dishes that were waiting to be washed. "Summer, everything is gonna be fine. The house is fine, and it is cleaner than it has been since we moved in. We have matching furniture and incredibly expensive dishes," he nodded to the china in her hand, "which is still dirty, by the way."
Sighing, Summer put the plates back into the dishwasher and then turned, her shoulders sagging. "Seth, what if it doesn't work out?"
"Sweetheart, she's been in rehab for, like, four months. She's good, you said she's healthy and great. Everything's gonna be beautiful," he promised, moving toward her with his arms outstretched."
"I'm not talking about her health, jack ass. I'm talking about her and Ryan."
Seth let go of her shoulders and went back to the refrigerator, extracted a pudding cup, and shut the door again with his foot. "This is just about four friends hangin' out together again, right? You're not planning anything romantic or whatever, are you?"
She shot a sincere, hard look at him. "What am I? Crazy? Why was she in rehab in the first place? Because of Ryan."
Before he could respond, there was a knock on the front door. "I got it," Seth winked, kissing her forehead and heading toward the front door. Things were going to be fine. Everything was going to work out. Maybe it wouldn't be like old times, but it would be good. And if he repeated it over and over until he got to the front door, maybe he would believe it.
Summer leaned her weight against the counter. If this didn't work, if Ryan was uncomfortable or Marissa couldn't handle it, things were about to get very ugly at the Cohen house.