Culinary Talents
"Point me in the direction of a saucepan, and for your own protection, a fire extinguisher." Ryan Atwood, The OC
Summary: Three moments of domesticity, tied to three women in Ryan Atwood's life. Written for chicklet25, 1977 words.
~*~*~
The first time Ryan Atwood tried to use the stove, he nearly burned the house down.
It was almost ten in the morning and he was starving; he hadn't had much to eat the day before, because it was the weekend and things like lunches were only guaranteed on school days when you ate because the teachers made you. It was Sunday and his mom was still asleep, and Ryan could only guess where his older brother Trey was. Probably staying at Arturo's, maybe out getting in trouble, he never knew with Trey. He was fourteen years old to Ryan's eleven, but Ryan spent more time checking up on Trey than Trey did being the responsible older brother.
So Trey was gone and Dawn was sleeping, and Ryan really needed something to eat. A quick rummage of the nearly-bare cupboards yielded a dented can of tomato soup. Miraculously, he also managed to find a can opener he hadn't even known they owned. Must have been left over from Fresno when they moved, he decided as he skimmed the directions on the back of the can. He got the stove burner lit and had the soup simmering in a saucepot in no time. He hummed a tuneless song as he stirred the thick soup with a wooden spoon. Not so difficult, this cooking thing.
A shout from the back of the house startled him. He stood stock still, straining his ears to hear what was going on. He could only make out muffled words, so he abandoned the pot and crept toward the hallway, the spoon clattering to the stovetop unnoticed. He heard his mom's boyfriend of the moment shouting and a crash which sounded like something got pushed over. A door slammed with a bang and the guy – Ryan couldn't remember his name – stormed through the living room, not even noticing Ryan as he headed for the front door.
"Oh my god!" Ryan heard his mom shout as she entered the room, and it was only then that he smelled the smoke coming from behind him in the kitchen. He turned to find flames leaping up from the burner. Without a second thought he leapt for the control and turned the burner off while Dawn grabbed a glass of water to dump on the still-flaming wooden spoon. The fire extinguished, they both ran for the living room, coughing due to the smoke. When they were on the front porch, Dawn grabbed Ryan in a fierce hug.
"Ry, baby, are you okay? What were you thinking?" She pulled back to look at him, and for the first time he noticed the bruising under her right eye. Uncomfortable but unwilling to point it out, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I was hungry."
She looked like she might cry, but instead gathered him up in another hug. "We'll go get McDonald's, okay?" she said, her breath ruffling the hair on his head. He just squeezed her back and wondered if he'd have to scorch another saucepan to get a hug like this from his mom. It wasn't that she didn't love him, and he knew that, but displays of affection were hardly part of the day-to-day Atwood existence. It was a nice change, he thought, even if he had to cause a fire to get it.
~*~*~
The night was as chilly as it ever gets in California, the stars glittering coldly as he bundled up in his bathrobe and snuck from the pool house to the kitchen door. Slipping inside and shutting the door behind him, he nearly jumped a foot in the air when he saw Kirsten sitting at the table in the dark.
"Hey," Ryan said once his heartbeat had returned to normal. "I didn't think anyone would be in here."
She smiled wearily up at him. "Couldn't sleep."
"Me either," he says, crossing to the refrigerator.
"Plus, Sandy snores."
"So does Seth. Must run in the family."
"That's all Cohen. Us Nichols are much too dignified." She crossed her arms around her midsection as if to ward against the cold. Ryan, who had been reaching for a soda, switched tacks and pulled the milk out of the fridge.
"Can I make you some hot chocolate or something?" he asked.
"Depends. Will you let me help?"
"Nope."
"Obi-Wan has taught you well," Kirsten said with a smirk. "But yeah, I'd love some."
Kirsten was silent as Ryan mixed the cocoa and milk. He laid a few spoons and a bag of marshmallows on the table before grabbing the mugs out of the microwave and sitting in the chair opposite Kirsten.
Kirsten raises an eyebrow at the marshmallows. "Two years and you still surprise me, Ryan."
"I'm a mysterious guy," he deadpanned.
"You are at that."
"So," he said as they stirred the marshmallows into their cocoa, "are you happy to be home?"
"I am," she replied, taking a sip. "Look, Ryan, I said some pretty terrible things to you before I left."
Ryan shook his head. "No, please, don't even think about that. It was a tough time for all of us."
Kirsten raised a hand in protest. "Let me finish. I just want you to know that I didn't mean any of it. You're part of my family as much as Seth is; I love you like a son, and I hope you know that."
Ryan gulped down some of the hot chocolate in lieu of a response. After a moment of silence, he said, "we're all glad you're back. Really glad."
"Not as glad as I am to be back," she said. "I missed my boys."
Ryan thought he liked the sound of that. My boys.
Kirsten drained the rest of her mug and stood. "Thanks for the hot chocolate," she said, ruffling Ryan's hair and leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. "Don't stay up too late," she said as she straightened and carried her mug to the sink.
"I won't," he replied. " 'Night, Kirsten."
"Goodnight, Ryan."
He sat for a few moments after she left, his fingers idly stirring the chocolate left in his mug. He could still feel her hand on his hair.
~*~*~
Ryan didn't make it to Chicago until after graduation. He'd mostly decided on UCLA, but he'd been accepted to Northwestern as well and Kirsten and Sandy had made such a big deal out of it that he'd agreed to come visit the campus. After the official tour, he was left with an afternoon of nothing to do, hours of free time until the prospective freshmen dinner that night. Reaching into his pocket, he fingered the scrap of paper there, the one with the telephone number that he'd never gotten up the nerve to call. But what the hell, right? They were in the same zipcode and all his excuses sounded a little too thin. So he grabbed his cell phone and dialed, shutting his eyes when her voice came on the line.
"Hey, it's, uh, Ryan."
An hour later, he was sitting on the steps of the student center when he heard his name. He turned his head to see her coming toward him, a huge grin on her face. He hadn't seen Lindsay Gardner in over a year, but she hadn't changed much.
He stood up to greet her as she came closer. "Hey, you," she said, tossing her arms over his shoulders in a friendly hug. Her red hair flew haphazardly around them as he returned the hug.
"Lindsay, hey," he said, smiling down at her as she pulled back. "How are you?"
"Surprised as hell to see you," she responded cheerfully. "But other than that, I'm great."
"Yeah? You like Chicago?" he asked as they started walking.
"Well it's not Newport, but then, nothing is, right?" she said, rolling her eyes.
"Right," he replied with a chuckle. He looked down at his feet and cleared his throat. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't call after..." he trailed off, knowing she'd know what he meant.
"It's okay. I wanted so badly to make it back for the funeral, but it just didn't work out. Kirsten told me about your brother and everything." She looked sideways at him. "Have you heard from him?"
"Not a word. But Trey was always really good at taking care of himself."
"I'm sure he's fine," she said sympathetically. She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him toward the stairs leading to the subway station. "It's pretty far to my place, so we'll just take the Metra."
"Um, okay," he said, following her down the stairs. She turned her head back to look at him, a knowing glint in her eyes.
"Never been on a subway before, have you?"
"Nope."
"Well come on, Atwood, first time for everything." They found the right train and settled into their seats. Ryan looked at her as she chattered about school and being accepted to Harvard. He was surprised to find that the big city girl thing worked for Lindsay really well. She seemed more at home here than she ever had among the glitz and glamour of Orange County.
"It's really, really good to see you," he said out of the blue when she was done talking. "You were one of the most normal things in my life these past few years, and I think I forgot that until just now."
Lindsay laughed. "Normal? What part of 'I'm your foster mother's illegitimate half-sister' just screams normal to you?"
"That was just circumstance, though. You, yourself, have always been the most down-to-earth girl I've ever known." And it was true. He'd loved Marissa and Theresa, both in different ways, but Lindsay was unique. She was beautiful, although she didn't know it, and intelligent, which she knew all too well. She got nervous and tongue-tied easily, and was quick to jump to assumptions about people but just as quick to admit when she had made a mistake. She was real, and he'd always liked that.
She smiled and blushed. He'd forgotten she did that. "If that's a compliment, thank you. And if it's not, well, screw off."
They both laughed and continued to talk amicably until they reached the right stop. As they exited the subway, she said, "since we're sharing confessions, I should probably mention that I haven't met anyone out here who can hold a candle to you."
"No cocky, brilliant, good looking water polo players in the Windy City?" he quipped. She laughed and smacked him on the arm.
"Well you never were a water polo player, I know that now, but the rest certainly hasn't changed."
As she let them into her apartment, she said, "Mom and I desperately need to go grocery shopping, so we have almost nothing." She tossed her keys on the kitchen counter and went to the freezer, pulling out two pints of ice cream. She handed one to Ryan, then rummaged in one of the drawers for two spoons.
"Nutritious lunch," he observed as she peeled off the lid of the container and dug out a spoonful of ice cream.
"Yeah, well, it's this or pasta, and I'm horrible in the kitchen."
"I remember." They smirked at each other. "I could cook," Ryan offered.
"Don't you have some orientation thing you need to get back to?"
"That's hours away," he said, finding that all he wanted was to spend a little more time with her. "Now. Point me in the direction of a saucepan, and for your own protection, a fire extinguisher."
"Fire extinguisher?"
"Just trust me."
Ryan was late for his orientation dinner. They sat on the kitchen counter, their legs dangling, and ate spaghetti without pasta sauce and ice cream straight from the carton. The sun slipped below the horizon and the fire extinguisher lay underneath the sink, unused.
end
Posted by Carrie on 05:43 PM