Ryan slowly became aware of the mumbling of voices. He blurted out, "I'm not scratching!" before he even bothered to open his eyes.

He forced himself to open them when he heard two distinctly male voices laughing and found Sandy and Seth staring down at him pitifully.

"Uh oh, Dad. I see oven mitts. Looks like someone's been a very bad boy."

"I warned you, kid - if you didn't stop scratching, you would not like the alternative."

Ryan glared. "Yeah, well – I'm not scratching. Go ahead and check – I'm not scratching!"

Sandy held up his hands in mock surrender. "No, that's okay. I trust you. Besides, I know Kirsten will check before your next bath."

"That you can count on," Seth added. "Never cross the Kirsten."

Ryan decided to ignore their comments. "Did you get my homework?"

"Yup. I sure did, and I was bringing it up to you. Then I ran into the Kirsten, and she took it. Said you wouldn't be up to concentrating on homework for a few more days. Instead, I've been assigned the task of downloading your music onto your new Ipod."

"But there's nothing wrong with my old Ipod."

"I guess after all this, Mom decided you deserved a new one."

Ryan didn't say anything, embarrassed by this additional stuff Kirsten felt he deserved and also shocked that Seth had yet to complain. Unless, of course, Ryan wasn't the only one Kirsten bought for.

"What did she get you?"

"When I had chicken pox? Um, I remember some comic books, some games, videos – you know, whatever was in style and in demand."

Sandy added, "Whatever he whined for."

"I didn't whine. I don't whine."

Ryan chuckled when he and Sandy both said, "Yeah, you do," and "Sure you do" at the same time.

Then he got serious again. "I meant now."

"Now? Nothing. Why?"

Ryan could tell by the looks on their faces that not only didn't Seth know what he was trying to get at but apparently neither did Sandy. Ryan shook his head and decided to forget about it – for now.

"Just…never mind."

Seth grabbed the new PSP as he headed for the door. "Okay, I'm off to download, and I'll charge this for you."

And that was when Ryan got it – yeah, sure - Seth will charge the PSP and then play it. He'll download his songs and then listen to the Ipod. "The games are on the dresser."

But Seth just mumbled, "yeah, okay," as he left with the PSP and the charger, but not the games.

Ryan waited for Sandy to say something, but he just sat on the bed and watched as Ryan picked at his blanket.

Finally Sandy said, "Need anything?"

For some reason, that made Ryan chuckle again. "No, I think I have more than I need."

"Her shopping trip a little much for you?"

Ryan hesitated for a minute. He knew he couldn't lie to Sandy, but he also knew he needed to be tactful about it. "Not really. Well, not just the shopping. It's more like everything. The shopping. The pills. The baths. The thermometer. The cream. The lack of clothes. The hovering."

"The hovering? I'm going to tell her you said that."

Sandy was joking, but Ryan was not in the mood. "You know what I mean."

"I know, and I promise you, Kirsten isn't enjoying herself. She's trying to make this easier for you so you come out of it relatively unscarred."

"I'm in your guest room in my underwear – trust me – I'm scarred." Ryan eyed the oven mitts. "You wouldn't really let her tape those to my hands, would you?"

"In the immortal words of Seth Cohen, never cross the Kirsten. If you can't control the scratching, she will tape the oven mitts to your hands, and I will be powerless to stop her."

"Gee, thanks." Ryan continued to pick at his blanket, struggling to keep his hands occupied and away from his body. "You know, it's not that easy to not scratch!"

"I never said it was. But that's why Kirsten has your whole routine down to the minute. The baths, the creams, the pills, the lack of clothes, and the new sheets – all of those things are doctor-approved ways to make this a little easier for you. And remember, it's only for the first few days. The blisters will start to heal over and once new blisters stopped appearing, the itch will get less. Unless of course, you get an infection."

"How will I know if I get an infection?"

"Kirsten will know. The doctor told her what to look for since Seth never got one."

Sandy paused before he continued. "That sort of reminds me. Kirsten said your, um, lower back looked a little irritated, and she wanted me to check to see if it was still being bothered down there. So, if you don't mind…"

"Would you even know what you were looking at?"

"Not really."

"Is she going to check herself when she comes back?"

"Most likely."

"Then I mind."

Ryan cringed when Sandy, out of habit, patted the top of his leg. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was pretty stupid, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Ryan's teeth were clenched as he tried hard to not scratch or rub his leg or yell or do Sandy some serious bodily harm.

Luckily, Sandy headed for the door, but not before he said, "Just remember, we're doing this because we love you, and we want what's best for you."

Ryan sighed, loudly, as he watched the door close behind Sandy.

Fine – Ryan would suck it up and manage. Since it was only for a few days, he would somehow suck it up and not scratch. Just a few more days then the blisters would begin to heal over, and the itch would stop. He could do a few more days.

As long as Kirsten continued the whole bath-pills-cream thing, Ryan figured he would try to sleep through the next few days.

Unless of course he got an infection, but what were the chances of that happening, right?

A few days later, just when Ryan was starting to feel better, just when he was no longer counting new spots, the Atwood luck struck again.

Ryan should have known – there was no way he could simply get over the embarrassment and humiliation of chicken pox in his underwear. No, that would almost be too easy.

He had stopped counting the number of times Kirsten pulled back the elastic on his shorts. She kept his routine the same. Every couple of hours – bath, pills, lotion, new sheets, new shorts and pulling at his elastic.

Until that fateful, awful morning, after what felt like a very long, feverish night, when Kirsten again pulled at the underwear. This time, she simply mumbled, "I knew it. I just knew it."

She didn't bother to explain to Ryan what she knew as she left the room. She didn't say anything when she returned, nor did she offer any kind of explanation as she shoved the thermometer in his mouth.

Kirsten 'tsk-ed' when she looked at the thermometer and again when she felt Ryan's forehead.

When Sandy came in a few minutes later, Kirsten showed him the thermometer. All he said as he gave Ryan two Tylenol was "within the hour."

A miserable hour later, Ryan got to meet the famous Dr. Peter McPete when he showed up in the guest room. He was the one who finally solved the mystery of what it was that Kirsten knew.

"Nice to meet you, Ryan. I hear you may have an infection."

"Mmm," was all Ryan mumbled since no one had bothered to tell him the reason he felt even lousier than before.

Dr. McPete stuck the thermometer into Ryan's mouth before turning to Kirsten. "Last time he had Tylenol?"

"Almost an hour ago."

"Okay. Excuse us. I'll let you know when we're finished."

"Don't you want me to show you where the infection is?"

"I'm sure we can manage. Excuse us."

Ryan immediately liked this Dr. McPete guy when he closed the door behind Kirsten and Sandy. Pulling the thermometer from Ryan's mouth, the doctor said, "I take it you feel like crap."

"Yeah, pretty much." Ryan definitely liked this guy.

As Dr. McPete put on his latex gloves, he promised, "I'll make this quick."

The guy was undeniably quick, Ryan had to give him that. He listened to Ryan's heart and lungs, checked his ears and throat, looked over the not embarrassing places Ryan had blisters, and did all the normal doctor exam type things.

Unfortunately, Ryan's fondness for the guy dropped slightly when he pulled down Ryan's shorts, and it quickly got worse when he instructed Ryan to lie on his side, with his shorts still down way too low for Ryan's comfort.

At least the exam was over right after that, as Ryan continually reminded himself that the guy was a doctor who was simply doing his job. Then the guy started to talk, and Ryan's liking for him dropped even further.

"Kirsten's right about the blisters on your lower back. They've been scratched open and are infected."

"I didn't scratch, I swear!"

The doctor laughed at the desperation in Ryan's voice.

"I'm not saying you scratched, and I promise, I'll tell Kirsten that. What I am saying is that the elastic from your shorts has caused an infection. We'll need to start you on an antibiotic, and you'll have to stop wearing your boxers."

Ryan sat up in bed, opened his mouth to argue – to say something, anything, but he was rendered temporarily speechless.

He did finally manage an "um…" as he watched Dr. McPete remove his gloves and crack the door open allowing Kirsten and Sandy back into the room.

"I was about to explain the less is more theory of chicken pox to Ryan."

"Less is more?" Kirsten looked from the doctor to Ryan who could only shrug and not look at her.

"The less clothes Ryan wears, the more comfortable he will be."

"But all he has on are his underpants."

"Which caused an infection. The elastic has rubbed some of the blisters open prematurely around his lower back."

"So he should go without his underpants?"

"Kirsten," Ryan groaned. "Please stop saying underpants."

"Sweetie, that's Seth's joke."

"Kirsten, this? Is no joke."

As the doctor wrote out the prescription, he again stressed, "He'll need an antibiotic and go without as much as possible for the next couple of days. I'd suggest only a baggy tee shirt or a loose fitting bathrobe when he goes from the bed to the bathroom, but while he's in bed, I suggest he allow the blisters to heal without the irritation of clothing."

Kirsten nodded. "Okay, that's fine."

Ryan was growing more and more frantic as he listened to Kirsten and the now disliked doctor make arrangements – naked arrangements – for him.

"That's fine! Fine for whom! Not fine for me. I'm not lying around here, nak… undress… not wearing anything for everyone to see!"

"Ryan, no one will see. You're in the privacy of your own room."

"This isn't my room. It's the guest room and my room? Not. So. Private."

Kirsten started, "Ryan…" but the uncharacteristically quiet Sandy finally stepped closer to the bed. "Kirsten, why don't you show Pete out and get Ryan's prescription filled?"

Nothing further needed to be said as they all knew what Sandy really meant. Didn't matter, Ryan thought as he folded his arms in front of him. Sandy could talk all day, but there was no way Ryan was going to willingly take off his boxers.

Any feelings of amity that Ryan had left for his doctor completely disappeared when he had to add, "You could end up very sick if the infection gets worse. You'll end up in the hospital where I promise - you will be wearing nothing except an IV containing your antibiotics. I'll see you in a few days. Unless you get worse, then I'll see you in the hospital."

The look Ryan got from Kirsten and the look he saw her give Sandy told Ryan that his days in his underwear were definitely numbered, especially since she left the room carrying his remaining pairs of clean boxers.

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

"Ryan…"

"No."

"Ryan…" Sandy raised his voice slightly.

"No, Sandy. There's no way. I can't. Lying around your house in my underwear was humiliating enough, but now you expect me to do it without my… anything?"

"Yes, we do. If that's what you need to do to clear up the infection and get better then that's exactly what we expect you to do."

"So that's it? What – no poker game for my shorts? I'm supposed to strip down and happily lie around your house for the whole world to see?"

"We certainly don't expect you to be happy about it. And this isn't just my house, it's your home, and we're not the whole world, we're your family."

However, Ryan refused to answer or even look in Sandy's direction. "Fine. Then I'll tell Dr. McPete that we'll need to admit you to the hospital."

"Sandy…"

"The choice is yours, kid."

"No, it's not."

"I'm going to go start your bath, since you have to be undressed for that anyway. You think about it in the tub. If you decide that you can live 'without' in your temporary bedroom, then after an hour, climb back into bed, minus the shorts. If not, I'll bring you some clothes to wear to the hospital, where some big orderly or mean nurse will take them away from you."

It wasn't until after Sandy left, after his bath was ready, that Ryan stopped glaring at the carpet and made his way to the bathroom.

Ryan sat in the tub, trying really hard not to think about the entire absurdity of his situation, nor did he want to think about how much worse it would be once he got out of the tub.

And he really didn't want to think about the fact that it really did feel so much better on his lower back not having his shorts rubbing against the damn blisters.

Nope, Ryan tried really hard not to think about any of that as he soaked.

He wasn't even paying attention to the time until he heard a knock and Kirsten say, "Your hour is up."

The gruff, "Yeah, okay" wasn't really aimed at Kirsten. Not exactly. Just at the circumstances, but not Kirsten. Well, maybe Kirsten a little bit, and Sandy, too.

Ryan dried off and looked at his discarded pair of boxers, sighing as he dropped them into the hamper as if saying goodbye to an old friend.

With the towel wrapped around his waist, Ryan peeked out into the bedroom since he wasn't sure if he'd find Kirsten waiting for him. He didn't think she would be there, but at that point, he couldn't be too sure. Or too careful.

Thankfully, Kirsten wasn't there, but Ryan immediately noticed that the sheets on his bed were now blue. They had been yellow, not blue. There was also a tray of food and his bathrobe at the foot of his bed - the green one he hated because it was too big.

For a brief minute Ryan got mad again that they would automatically assume he would pick lying around the guest room buck naked, and not pick going to the hospital.

For another minute, Ryan contemplated telling them that he'd rather recover at HOAG, simply because they assumed he wouldn't choice the hospital.

In the end, Ryan decided that he really didn't want to go to the hospital. For one thing, he hated the hospital; for another, with his luck, he'd definitely get some mean nasty ugly nurse who would take away all his clothes. Then he would be stuck naked for the whole world to see.

Ryan again sighed, again loudly, as he climbed into bed, pulling the covers tightly around him and his towel. He could do this, he kept telling himself. As long as he could come to some kind of agreement with both Cohens, he could do this.

There had to be some ground rules to this whole naked in the guest room predicament.

At least they knocked on his door and waited for his grumpy "yeah" before they came in.

Kirsten, naturally, had the cream in her hand, and without thinking, Ryan automatically leaned forward.

Then he remembered and quickly laid back. "Can we discuss this first?"

"Discuss what?" Kristen said as she put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him forward.

Ryan wasn't used to having to argue with the Cohens- that's what Seth was for, but then again, he wasn't used to being naked in guest room either.

He decided that he really needed to channel his inner Seth in the hopes of getting his point across.

"We need some ground rules." Ryan continued to push against Kirsten's hand as she continued smearing cream all over his lower back – his naked, she-really-shouldn't-be-looking-there lower back.

"Ground rules? What ground rules?"

"This for one thing," Ryan said as he tried to pull the cream out of Kirsten's hand. "I can do that myself."

"This cream is only for the infection, which you can't reach."

Kirsten finished smearing the stuff on him there, allowing Ryan to finally lean back against the headboard and shake his head "no."

Before Kirsten could say anything, Sandy finally spoke up. "I think it's best if one of us puts the prescription cream on the infected area. You can do the rest of the spots with the Aveeno cream."

"But does it have to be all the time?"

Kirsten's "yes" left no room for further argument.

Ryan groaned before moving onto his next 'request.' "I want the door locked. If I have to lie around with nothing on, the door stays locked, and no one comes in unless I answer."

This time it was Kirsten's turn to shake her head. "I don't like the idea of the door being locked. I'd rather it stay open, just in case something happens."

"Like what?"

"What if your fever goes higher or something else were to happen? A locked door would make it too difficult to get to you."

"Exactly."

"Ryan…" Kirsten again started, but again, Sandy intervened. "Okay, how about this – the door can be locked, but Kirsten and I have the key. That way you get some privacy, and Kirsten and I get peace of mind."

"Then what's the purpose of the lock if you're just going to come in anyway?"

"We promise to knock first and wait for you to say something – just like we did this last time. However, if you don't answer, and we feel it's important to check on you, we use the key."

"No Seth?"

"Not unless you want Seth."

"No."

When Ryan couldn't think of how to further argue the door lock, Kirsten said, "Fine. What else?"

"As soon as I'm feeling better, I want my clothes back – all of them."

"No. As soon as Dr. McPete says you're better, you can have your clothes back."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is, you'll tell us you're feeling better just to get your clothes back. Dr. McPete will tell us when you really are better."

"No, I won't."

Kirsten raised her eyebrows in obvious disbelief. "Really? How long did your back bother you, and when were you planning on telling us about it? I saw those blisters steadily getting worse, and you never said a thing."

Ryan opened his mouth to say something in his own defense, but once again, Sandy spoke up. "Sorry, kid, but I have to side with Kirsten on this one. That infection didn't start overnight, and according to the doctor, it had to be bothering you for a while, without a word from you."

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"Until he comes back."

"Three days."

"So in three days I get my clothes back?"

"No, in three days, Dr. McPete comes to check on the infection, and just like Kirsten said, if it's okay with the doctor, then you can get your clothes back."

With nothing left to argue for, especially since he wasn't winning, Ryan quietly began to pick at the food on the tray.

He didn't bother to say anything when Kirsten went into the bathroom. He did almost say something when she returned with the Aveeno cream. Luckily, she simply handed it to him along with his pills.

Then she smiled, gently patted his arm and left – carrying his last pair of boxers from the hamper.

Sandy didn't say anything for a minute as Ryan continued to pick at the food and not say anything either.

It was actually Ryan who said something first. "Remember to lock the door when you leave, please."

"If you need anything…"

"You'll knock."

Sandy laughed, "I promise."

"Ryan," Sandy then added. "It's only for a few days. Give it a few days for the infection to heal, and then it'll be okay."

"A few days. Heard that before."

Even though Ryan didn't say it as a joke, Sandy again laughed. "Not this time. This time, I promise, once the infection is gone, you will be well on your way to recovering."

When Ryan didn't answer, Sandy locked the door as he left.

Once he was safely protected by the locked door, Ryan removed the towel from his waist, finally alone in his misery – his naked misery - with his Aveeno cream, new clean blue sheets, oversized green bathrobe and nothing else.

He hoped this time Sandy was right. He hoped he would actually be better and dressed in a few days.

Ryan had already lost all his clothes along with his dignity.

His luck had to change. Sooner or later the Atwood luck just had to change.

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Remember - the name of the challange was to get Ryan undressed. It was a challange from a really, really long time ago, I know but hey - I finally managed. If it offends - sorry, but it was the name of the challange...

I own nothing from the OC except Season 1 and Season 2 DVDs, their Chrismukkah CD and one or maybe two OC mixes. Oh, and I have the 2006 calander at work - a gift from famous99. Other than that - Josh, Fox and TPTB own it all.