Title: So Not (The O.C.)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
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Category: Vignette, angst, Seth POV
Spoilers: None, really--sometime after the pilot
Rating: R for language/imagery
Pairing: Seth/Ryan (eventually)
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. The O.C. is the property of Josh Schwartz, Dave Bartis, Doug Liman, and McG, Warner Brothers Television, Hypnotic Productions, and the Fox Network. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.
DEDICATION: To the other half of my OTP
COPYRIGHT: (C) August 21, 2003, Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, email@example.com
Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.
I don't care what Luke says: I am *so* not queer.
I mean, is it queer to like comics and television and Playstation and normal stuff? No. No, it is not. Okay, maybe I haven't got a pack of jerkwad friends to enjoy those things with me, but that's no big deal.
It isn't queer to respect your parents and do what they say and try to get decent grades to make them proud, even when they are being so completely annoying. That's how parents are, y'know?
And then there's Summer! I mean, she's beautiful and perfect and I like her and she's a girl. There. Proof positive that I am not queer.
Another thing in my defense--seriously queer people think about sex all the time, and spend waaay too much time touching themselves *there*, right? And I never do that--not even when I think about Summer, who is too beautiful, too perfect, too pure for me to do... *that*. Maybe after we get to know each other better and go out for awhile and get married or something...
Besides--I've got a character witness now: Ryan knows I'm not queer. He's cool--a whole lot cooler than Luke and all of his freakazoid friends. Marissa next door seems to like him, too. Maybe she's not as craptastic as I've always thought she was.
But back to Ryan--because he's so much better than anything else this stupid town has in it, no matter what people call him. He's got the don't-give-a-shit clothes and the cigarettes and this little smile that makes my stomach flip over just a little, which doesn't make me queer, okay?
Nobody's ever paid attention to me at all before, except for when I was doing something stupid, so it's kinda nice having somebody want to listen to you and hang out with you and just sorta be around where you are. It felt good to look up and see him looking at me like he wanted to be there, not like he thought I gave off huge geek vibes like everybody else does.
So I didn't want him to leave. I had to hug him when he went away, because I sort of wanted to remind myself that he was real, something to remember all the way down to my bones for when he was gone.
And then he came back, which didn't suck--not at all. It would be so amazing if he got to live here and be right there all the time. Sure, it was awful about his mom leaving nothing but a note in an empty house, and when he described that, it kinda hurt. It made me want to put on a cape and tights and fly in and rescue him, and let me point out: Batman? *Really* not queer.
So it's not my fault that I've got to change my sheets this morning after I'd been dreaming about Ryan. In the dream, he was saying goodbye, and I begged him not to go, like I knew what he was going to find, because I didn't want him to get his hopes up and have them shot down. Well, he was really grateful, so he actually kissed me and started touching me, and I guess I sort of made a mess, or at least I did when I woke up. I mean, it's totally natural, isn't it? Nothing to be ashamed of.
Nope. I'm not queer. Not queer at all.
Maybe a little gay...
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