So, without further ado,
Title: Home to You
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Seth/Ryan (futurefic)
Summary: When I get home to you/ I find the things that you do/ they make feel all right.
Ryan left his keys on the table by the front door, dropping his briefcase and jacket on the couch as he made a beeline for the kitchen. He was still kind of keyed up from work, thinking about the proposal that he'd given to the board. Low cost, high quality public housing wasn't the kind of thing the Newport Group usually did, but it had been Ryan's pet project ever since he found out that Los Angeles' housing authority was looking to revitalize a neglected and run-down neighborhood on the east side of town. The board had seemed impressed after his presentation, and as people filed out of the conference room Kirsten had winked at him, squeezed his hand, and mouthed "Wow." It wasn't a sure thing yet, but Ryan was still pretty damn excited.
He flipped on the lights in the hallway outside the kitchen, and stopped in the doorway, staring.
"Hey," Seth called out from where he lay on the floor, hands folded over his chest. Spread out all around him were bowls, pot, and pans all half-filled with water. "How'd it go?"
"Pretty well," Ryan answered cautiously, as he gingerly stepped around a puddle and a stockpot. "I'm guessing there's an explanation for all this, right?"
"I'm harnessing my chi," Seth intoned somberly, closing his eyes. "And taking back all the things I've said over the years about chi and people who harness it, so before you bring it up know that I have repented my ways, and am now seeking enlightenment. The first step in that process is to get rid of all the free range chi I've got going on'."
"Right, of course," Ryan agreed, shaking his head as he stepped over Seth toward the refrigerator. "And the water?"
"Water, mi amigo, conducts vibrations and you know, chi's a vibration. I was going to pour water all over the floor and lie in it, but I figured you'd probably hate that and besides, you know how I hate wet socks." Seth slitted one eye open, reaching over to lift up the hem of Ryan's trousers and scowled. "Speaking of which, man, how many times have I told you that the cruel socks do not actually bring you luck? I mean, please, work with me. We've got standards and stereotypes to uphold as," he paused dramatically and stretched his long fingers into air quotes, "ho-mo-sexuals." Seth shook his head against the floor. "This whole purple and yellow argyle thing is definitely harshing our fabulousity. They'll, like, retract our union cards."
Ryan snorted, and pulled a couple of beers out of the refrigerator. "Fabulousity? You've been watching Queer Eye again." Glancing back over his shoulder, he looked all across the floor at the odd assortment of crockery and the puddles of water, and at Seth, prone among them. "So," Ryan said carefully. "I'm guessing that the book's not going well today."
Seth's acrobatic hands violently mimed frustration as his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "If the book was going well today would I be lying on the cold tile of our kitchen floor in a big puddle trying to get a handle on a primal force that I have never once believed in in my entire life? My actions speak for themselves."
"I thought you were repenting your ways and now embracing chi as a concept," Ryan teased, opening both bottles with a flick of his wrist.
"I thought I burned those," Seth muttered, glaring at Ryan's socks. "Or gave them to Dad or something."
"You wouldn't," Ryan said confidently, straddling Seth's legs to sit on his thighs. "C'mon, you love these socks."
Taking the beer from Ryan's hand, Seth wrinkled his nose. "You know, maybe we should talk about our divergent interpretations of the word 'love' because it might be a problem. When I say love, I don't actually mean hate and despise - which are the extent of the feelings I have for those socks. If you're going to insist on keeping them, have them bronzed or something, just don't *wear* them. Like I said, they're not lucky, they're just *ugly*. Also, hey, I've totally not said congratulations yet, have I?"
Smiling, Ryan clinked his bottle against Seth's. "You were working up to it, and I can't believe that you're telling me *I'm* superstitious when you're lying on the floor with dishware to help you 'harness your chi'."
"Okay, point," Seth conceded with a small nod of his head. He rested one hand on Ryan's knee and squeezed. "So, like, I don't need to tell you that I'm proud of you because you already know it, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan said, smile growing, "I know."
Seth grinned up at him, fingers tip toe-ing up Ryan's inseam. "I could maybe show you."
Ryan carefully put down his beer, before leaning over to put a kiss on the tip of Seth's freckle-covered nose. "Seth," he murmured, moving his lips down to cover Seth's, "we are not going to do this in the middle of all these pots."
"Oh, right," Seth said breathlessly, "the pots." He hooked a leg around the back of Ryan's knees, and pulled him down. Ryan grunted as their chests collided, and braced his hands on either side of Seth's head.
"Are you sure about that? Because the pots are working for me, this is all working for me," Seth continued, nibbling on Ryan's lower lip. "I'm grooving on the pots. My chi is totally harnessed, right here, right now, like this."
"Well," Ryan drawled against Seth's neck, "as long as your chi is harnessed..."