When You Were Mine

a The O.C. story

by dirty diana


Beta'd by serial karma. 

Seth got home around six-thirty. He'd walked home, through a light November rain, across campus and down Westwood Boulevard. Summer had gotten home first, kicked off strappy pink sandals and placed them in the front cupboard. Then she'd stacked her history and macroeconomics textbooks and UCLA issue day planner neatly on the low Ikea coffee table, topped by a purple gel pen and three different colours of highlighters.

Now she was kneeling on the floor beside their new stereo, a holiday present from Sandy and Kirsten, sliding a cd into the sixteen-disc changer. She pushed a button, cueing up her favourite Chili Pepperssong.

Seth's long body crouched to the floor beside her, one hand creeping around her waist. The other hand traced a line along the bottom shelf of the nearest cd rack, studying the titles. "Nelly?" he asked.

Summer glanced at it and made a face. "Ew. That's Ryan's."

"Really. I think from now on, Ryan won't be buying cds without my approval." He continued studying the cds, finally pulling out a Dave Matthews title. "That's so not Ryan's."

"No. Marissa sent it to me for my birthday." Summer turned the volume up to seven, and stood up.

"Ah. How is Marissa?"

"She's okay. I think." Summer wrinkled her nose, sounding unsure. "She was complaining about the weather in New York, mostly, the last time she emailed me."

"Yeah, well, I guess they get a lot of snow."

"I guess." Summer had perched on the back of their second-hand couch, her bare feet kicking against the canvas backing. Seth slid over to stand between her knees, kissing her gently.

The door creaked as it opened, and Ryan walked in. He hung his denim jacket on the hook beside the door, took off his shoes and put them in the closet. Between Ryan and Summer, Seth lived with two obsessive neat freaks. It was something that he complained about often.

"What?" Summer would say. "It's not that hard to just put stuff where it goes, in the first place."

Ryan would shrug, and agree with her.

"Hey, dude." Seth didn't look up, his fingers still tracing a path up Summer's back, against thin cotton fabric. "How'd the quiz go?"

"Okay." Ryan sat down, in the overstuffed armchair opposite the couch, a non-matching and faded green colour that Summer hated. "Who used the car this weekend and forgot to gas it up? I was late for class."

"Not me." Seth's mouth brushed Summer's, and she smiled.

"It was me. Sorry." Summer tilted herself backwards, exhaling sharply as she did so. Tanned knees still hung over the back of the couch, hair spilling over the seat cushions, as she studied Ryan from her upside down pose. "It's not my fault that you go to school on the edge of civilisation."

"USC is in the middle of the city," Ryan said, but without enthusiasm. He and Summer had this conversation at least once a week. "You owe me gas money."

Summer's tongue brushed her upper lip, red and shiny. She'd stopped listening. Seth's long fingers were working their way underneath the edge of her short dark blue dress, pushing it upwards, stroking the inside of her thighs.

Ryan sat back in the chair, watching. Ryan liked watching, they'd worked that out a while ago. Mostly he liked to watch Seth, who liked to watch Summer, as she closed her eyes and her breath started coming faster, a dark blush rising on her face.

"Baby," Ryan interrupted gently.

"Yeah?" Seth asked.

"Are you going to tease her all night?"

Seth smiled easily. "Patience, my young padawan. Patience is a virtue. Isn't that right, Summer?"

Summer raised her eyebrows at him, and shifted her whole body so that she was stretched out on the couch. "Yeah. Virtue. Come here."

The general consensus, although no one remembered it that clearly, was that this had been Summer's idea.

Through junior year of high school, Seth and Summer had made a sweet couple, a cute couple, and they'd lasted almost twice as long as Marissa and Ryan, who had burned out pretty fast. They'd lasted until Anna Stern's Labour Day barbecue, at which Summer had told Seth to "just fuck off and die".

"If you want to be with your fucking live-in boyfriend, why don't you just go and be with him already?" she yelled, and then two bottles of Corona flew across the lawn. Summer's pitching arm was surprisingly accurate.

Ryan and Seth spent about three nervous weeks not talking to each other, and then they followed her suggestion.

That lasted until Seth and Summer got drunk at Marissa's Valentine's Day party, and made out in the bathroom. Maybe a little bit more than made out. Seth confessed it to Ryan the next morning.

Then no one talked to anyone for a really long time.

Early in the morning on Graduation Day, Summer had banged on the door of the poolhouse, for about five minutes, until Ryan finally opened it.

"Your tie is crooked," was the first thing she had said.

Ryan just stared at her uncomfortably, while she reached out and redid the tie, a perfect Windsor knot.

"See, the thing is," she explained as she tucked the tie into his jacket, "I don't share."

"Me neither."

"But this is so not working out. I mean, you're alone, and Seth is alone, and I'm alone, and maybe the two of you are used to it, but I'm not. And I think it kinda sucks."

"Me too."

"So it's agreed. We just won't be alone anymore.

"Okay," Ryan said, and they weren't.

With a grin, Seth tumbled over the top of the couch and onto his girlfriend. Their mouths slid against each other, open and wet. Seth's hand pushed at the hem of her dress, hooking a finger inside the hip of purple lace panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor. With a laugh, Summer spread her knees apart, as Seth's tongue travelled up her thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Then his mouth brushed against the centre of her, the sensation radiating heat, and Summer gasped. 

Ryan pressed his lips together and shifted in the chair, as Summer reached down, brushing a hand against Seth's soft hair. Her other hand had slipped inside the top of her dress, exposing her breasts, fingers teasing a pink, stiff nipple.

He pressed the tip of one finger inside her, barely moving, his tongue still licking against her. Then a second finger pushed into her, then a third, his hand cupping her hot, wet, sex. Summer's moans grew louder, more insistent, as Seth sped up his rhythm, his fingers sliding in and out of her. 

"Fuck, Cohen," she whispered, and then arched her back and came.

Seth untangled himself from Summer's thighs, sitting up. He grinned. "See? Patience."

Ryan had already risen from his chair. He stood in front of Seth, and slipped out of his shirt. Seth's hands reached out, undoing Ryan's belt buckle. Khaki pants soon pooled around his ankles, and he stepped out of them. Naked and hard, Ryan slid onto Seth's lap.

"Been thinking about you all day," he whispered softly.

Seth said, "Yeah? Even during your quiz?"

"Yeah," Ryan said, and kissed him, hard. His fingers tugged at the hem of Seth's faded Clash tshirt, pulling it up, and over his head.

Summer watched them, feet tucked underneath her at the end of the couch. She made no effort to pull her dress down, over exposed hips and belly, still struggling to catch her breath.

"Well," Seth said, "that's not good, dude. School's important. Learning, and stuff. You should be concentrating on..."

Ryan silenced him with a full-mouthed kiss. Their lips pressed together, Ryan's tongue inside Seth's mouth, warm and insistent. "You're talking too much," Ryan said when they pulled apart. Glancing at Summer, he added, "again."

"Never shuts up," Summer agreed, sitting up and curling herself against Seth's waist, resting her head in the curve of his shoulder. Seth's arm snaked around her slim waist. "Ever."

"Hey," Seth protested. "I do too. I know the value of a meaningful sil..."

He was cut off again, this time by Ryan's hand undoing his blue jeans and slipping inside his underwear.

"...silence." Seth continued, finally. "Really, dude."

Ryan nodded, his mouth tracing the lines of Seth's throat, his body rocking gently against him, Ryan's hard-on pressed against Seth's stomach. "Sure."

"If I have a tendency to ramble on occasion, that's just a Cohen thing. It's genetics. Like destiny, you know? Causality. Like, there's no real choice. Just cause, and eff..."

"Seth," Ryan whispered softly, evenly, "if you're going to quote <i>The Matrix</i> to me while we're fucking, I swear I will get up and walk away."

"Right," Seth murmured obediently. "Sure." And then he groaned out loud, his cock inside Ryan's hand hard and slick, Ryan's strokes even and sure. Summer's hand reached out, and slid between their bodies, her warm palm brushing Ryan's cock.

Ryan moaned against Seth's neck, teeth pressing down. Seth arched against him, cock thrusting into Ryan's hand. Seth's fingers tightened their grip on Summer's hip, pinching hard, and then he came.

Ryan tangled his fingers in Seth's hair, pulling his head back, kissing him hard. Then he pressed himself against Seth's body, pushing his cock into Summer's hand, and climaxed without a sound, come splattering hot and sticky across Seth's torso.

As his body relaxed, he climbed out of Seth's lap, onto the other side of him, arms still wrapped around Seth's waist.

"Summer," he said quietly, "I think we finally shut him up."

Summer grinned. "Didn't take much."

Seth opened his eyes to glare at both of them. "I'm simply enjoying a meaningful silence. Losing myself in the moment. And you guys are ruining it."

"Sure, whatever," Summer answered, and then no one said anything, for a very long time.