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Title: i will be your safety
Fandom: The OC
Pairing: Ryan/Marissa
Word Count: 770
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! "Don't Leave Home" is by Dido and belongs entirely to her.
Summary: “You know something?” Marissa murmurs, and he shakes his head, inviting her to go on. “I like being with you. It’s… different.” Post-"The Perfect Couple" (1x10).
Notes: Written for lover100 (Table B, Prompt #80 - warmth).



“And if you’re cold, I’ll keep you warm
And if you’re low, just hold on
‘Cause I will be your safety.”
- Dido
 
For a while after they stop kissing, they just lay there. Marissa nestles into his chest, one of her hands playing with his, and he rests his cheek against the top of her head, running his free hand through her hair.
 
“You know something?” Marissa murmurs, and he shakes his head, inviting her to go on. “I like being with you. It’s… different.”
 
“Thought we’d figured that out already?” Ryan says, with a slight smirk, and she raises her head, smiling, too, and gently smacks his arm.
 
“Shut up. We have. I just… what you said before, about your mom and your dad, and how it didn’t work out… I’m sorry if I was a bitch. I just… wanted to believe…”
 
She trails off, and when she buries her head against his chest again, he stops running his hand through her hair, instead resting it on her back. “I know the feeling,” he says, after a while. “My dad, he was never around that much, and when he was, it was… it was a matter of time before it blew up again. And then one day he just didn’t come back. I guess I didn’t really get it yet, and all I wanted was for him to show up at my birthday. I must’ve said it to my mom.”
 
“What happened?” Marissa asks, even quieter than before, and he feels the pressure of his fingers on his arm, a tightening and then a refusal to let go, as if she wants to protect him from something that’s already happened.
 
“She cried and she told me I didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about. Then she took the bourbon and just… disappeared. Locked herself in her room, stayed like that for a couple of days. My brother, Trey… I remember he was pissed. He punched me, told me not to mention Dad in front of her if I didn’t want her to start drinking again. Then he left, took off on his bike… he came back an hour later with a cake. I don’t know how he did it, if he stole it or whatever… he gave me the birthday my mom didn’t give a shit about, so I guess it ended up being a good one.”
 
“Wow.” She says it faintly, and when she looks up at him, he thinks she might be close to crying. Before he knows it, she’s reached out to wrap her arms around him, and she’s whispering a sorry.
 
“What I wanted to say just before… about it being different with you,” she begins, her breath warm against his neck, pressed so close against him it’s difficult for him to focus on what she’s saying, “is that… no one here would tell me any of that. Anything like you just did, or when you tried to give it to me straight before, tell me it wasn’t going to happen… here, it’s like when someone’s parents get divorced, it’s just an excuse for them to milk them of everything. It’s like they don’t feel it, you know? But… you do. And I don’t even think I realized how much until now.”
 
He shifts and rolls onto his side so that he’s facing her, and he presses his forehead to hers, kissing her for a moment and then breaking it. “Is it feeling any better? Any different?”
 
“It’s still… weird, I guess. I mean, my mom and Kirsten’s dad… I just don’t want to think about it. I’m glad I’m here, with you.”
 
“I’m glad you are, too.” He reaches out to brush some of her hair behind her ear. “I mean, after Tijuana…”
 
She catches his hand, looks straight at him. “I wouldn’t do that again.”
 
“I know you wouldn’t.” It’s a bit of a lie; his mom had said the same so many times that he has difficulty believing it. He wants to, for Marissa’s sake, and he decides to try. “I just wanted to be sure you were safe.”
 
“Safe,” Marissa repeats, as if she’s trying out the word, seeing how it feels. “Yeah. I think I am. You know when there’s a bad storm, and sometimes it gets cold… and you’re just under the blankets waiting for it to end, and at least there it’s warm?” He nods. “It… kinda feels like that now. With you, I mean.”
 
And he realizes it. Because even if he’s never done this before, never had a girlfriend, never spent the night with anyone… this is the most normal it’s felt for him since he came to Newport. Safe. Warm.
 
He thinks he likes it.

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