The Fireworks (Part One)

Seth is beyond excited when Ryan returns home and tells him the date went well. "As good as can be expected," are his exact words, and while Seth isn't quite sure how good that is, he overlooks Ryan's vague tone in favor of optimism.

"This is great, man, seriously," he says, following the blond boy through the house to get the details. "We can all start going out again, hitting the streets, you know, really partying it up."

"I think we're gonna take it slow," Ryan cautions, wanting to curb his friend's enthusiasm before it gets out of hand. "A lot of stuff has happened, Seth."

Seth refuses to heed the warning. "Yeah, but just think about it," he presses, his eyes alight with excitement. This is what he – what they've all – been waiting for. With Ryan and Marissa together again, the rest of the world will surely fall right back into place. "The fab four, reunited. There'll be t-shirts, hats, buttons. We should have buttons. Nothing flashy, of course, just a tasteful little pin with our silhouettes or something. Oh! We could do, like, the Beatles walk."

Ryan shakes his head and tries to follow. "The Beatles walk?"

"Yeah. Come on, you know. Abbey Road?" He swings his arms out and takes a wide stride, freezing mid-step to imitate the pose. "The most famous man-crossing-street picture ever?"

"Oh, I get it," Ryan affirms with a nod, although he has no idea what the infamous Beatles poster has to do with his and Marissa's current situation. Seth's thought trains are, at best, long and winding and missing several key stops. "So, uh, how does that … relate?"

Seth considers for a moment, then shrugs and flops down on the couch beside Ryan. "It really doesn't. So are you gonna ask her to the cookout?"

"What cookout?"

"Dude. The annual Cohen fourth of July B-B-Q." Seth stares at him, hard, as if there's no way he hasn't heard this mentioned a thousand times. "The one time of the year when anyone in this family even attempts to cook. Dad grills, Mom tosses salads … it's like Chrismukkah in July. Which we should also start celebrating."

"I don't know, man," Ryan sighs. The date is replaying itself in his head: Marissa's quiet chuckle, the knowing smile the waitress gave them as they lingered over coffee. They'd made the perfect picture of a young couple in love, he knew. He just wasn't sure how accurate a portrayal of his feelings it had been. "I guess I can't not. She lives right next door."

"She'd definitely smell the burning." Seth nods sagely. "The whole neighborhood always can. Dad doesn't have the greatest attention span."

Sandy's chuckle precedes him into the living room as he overhears his son's comment. "Well, you had to get it from somewhere," he retorts good-naturedly, swatting the back of Seth's head. "Ryan. How was the date?"

"News in this house sure does travel." He's smiling as he says it. A family that trades gossip and thrives on laughter was beyond his reach once upon a time and the recent events in his life have reminded him how lucky he is to have the Cohens. "It went okay."

"Good, good. Invite her to the cookout, okay? We need all the bodies we can get for the bucket brigade." Sandy exits the room before they can see his grin flicker and fade, his mind on the one body that won't be attending.

Ryan is focusing on the same thing. "Has he, uh, talked about your mom at all?" he asks Seth. "Since she left?"

"We've been a little distracted," Seth points out. "But I'm sure she's fine, you know us Cohens. Can't hold us down."

Proving the point, he scurries out the same way his father did before Ryan can further question him. Alone, Ryan leans back into the couch and closes his eyes, thinking, then pulls out his cell phone. The operator politely asks how she can help him and he grits his teeth before replying, "I'd like the number to the Newport Rehab Clinic, please."

XXX

Sandy almost burns the house down before the guests even get there, and Ryan takes it as a bad omen about how this party is going to turn out. He and Seth do the best they can in the kitchen, chopping lettuce and dicing onions, but all three of them are hyperaware of the missing ingredient.

"Seth's taking it pretty hard," Summer murmurs to Ryan, when she has finally snagged a moment of alone time with him. The hosts are entertaining their guests on the patio with their patented Cohen-male-banter-bonding, leaving Summer and Ryan to clean up the mess they'd made with all their preparations. "Kirsten being gone, I mean. Now that everything else is … settled, I think it's starting to really sink in with him that his mother is in rehab."

"I guess Trey and I were a pretty good distraction," Ryan responds wryly. He's glad to have Summer for company right now, glad that someone else is seeing what he sees when he looks at Sandy and Seth. It feels good to have someone to talk to rationally about the chaos that surrounds them on a daily basis. "What do you think we can do?"

She bites her lip. "I really don't know," she answers honestly, shrugging and passing him a plate she'd towel-dried. "I've tried getting him to open up about it, but he just makes some stupid joke and changes the subject. Or, worse, leaves."

"Yeah, been there," he says, recalling Seth's abrupt departure from the living room a few days ago. "Who'd ever think I would be following Seth around, begging him to talk?"

"It's like we've entered the Twilight Zone," Summer agrees, and her light laughter cuts off shortly when his fingers brush hers over another plate. Their eyes meet, hers wide with surprise and his narrowed in study of her face. "Where, uh, everything's … different."

Summer finds herself unable to breathe. How can she be expected to maintain any normal function when Ryan seems to be standing closer than he was a minute ago and his gaze is definitely focused on her lips as she wets them nervously? She is sure she is going to spontaneously combust from the heat of his stare when the front door swings open and Marissa's familiar voice calls out, "Hello? Anybody home?"

The plate drops to the floor as Ryan and Summer jump apart, the crash bringing Marissa hurrying into the kitchen. "Well, you don't have to look so guilty," she chastises them gently, after assessing the situation. "It's just one plate. No big deal."

"Yeah," Summer breathes, moving to put the counter between herself and Ryan. "No big deal. Sorry about that, Atwood. I'm such a klutz."

Marissa's eyebrows draw together in confusion. "You dropped it, Sum? Since when do you have butterfingers?"

"I made her nervous," Ryan pipes up, before Summer can think of anything to say. His eyes stay on her even as he pulls a broom and dustpan from the cabinet and twists his lips upwards. "I was trying to make a joke, but we all know I don't have Seth's sense of humor."

"And thank God for that." For her part, Marissa's nerves at facing another date with Ryan had been eased by the scene she'd stumbled upon. At least if she screwed up at all today, she wouldn't be the only one to have made a mistake with him. And Summer would be there to help her out of any uncomfortable situations, just as Marissa was doing for her now. "Come on, Sum, let's get outside and grab some food before your boyfriend eats it all. Ryan, you'll meet us out there?"

He nods, seeming very intent on sweeping the shards of ceramic into the trash. "Be there in a sec. Oh, and Summer?"

Marissa is already out the door, greeting Sandy on the patio and being presented with a plate overflowing with chips, dips, and salsas. Following her best friend, Summer is halfway to safety when his voice rakes over her name, smooth and sure. She freezes and turns around slowly, praying for self-control to whatever God handles teenage girls and their burning desires for boys who are completely, totally off-limits. "Yes?"

For reasons she can only guess at, his grin flashes lightning-quick at her panicked expression, a reassurance that doesn't go far in slowing her heartbeat. "I agree. With what you said before … about everything being different. It is. But it's not all bad. You know?"

"It … could be worse," she agrees faintly, wondering what in the hell he really means. Is it code for something? Did he feel that spark of heat, too, or is she just imagining things? "I should get outside. I'll, uh, see you in a bit?"

"Yeah. See you." Ryan turns his attention back to cleaning, but he's pretty sure that no amount of soaping and scrubbing dishes is going to wash away the tingling in his fingertips from their brief contact with Summer's small hands. And he doesn't know what that means, but it's definitely different.