![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shallownessTitle: Je me souviens, every single thing
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Taylor/Ryan implied.
Word count: 169.
First posted: February 2007.
Summary: I remember every single thing.
Notes: Coda to 4.04 ‘The Metamorphosis’. Written listening to Jem’s ‘Finally Woken’, though the summary comes from Pulp’s Disco 2000. Thanks to Taylor for making me scramble to remember my A-level French and lamiss12 for correcting it. All mistakes are mine, the characters are not.
Je me souviens, every single thing: shallowness
Taylor returns to Summer’s house, happier than she would have been going back to France, still tasting her kickass peach torte, and the chance to have said merci to Ryan hugging her warm. And beneath it all is the surprise of his kiss. It’s stayed with her all day, through making the pastry to changing her outfit afterwards.
She’d let her imagination go wild, stretching every sinew of her French to fill out the divorce papers, desperate to make Henri’s lawyer, and ultimately his client, believe that she’d found someone way more incroyable than her French husband. The inspiration hadn’t been the muscular arm she’d laid her hand on when she began this, but it had helped to battle the champagne-tinged memories of le Jedi du sex that had come with her back to Newport. And why wouldn’t they? She’d had so little here to crowd them out.
Except Ryan went above and beyond, with a kiss – it wasn’t even frenching – that had left her à bout de souffle.
FIN
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Taylor/Ryan implied.
Word count: 169.
First posted: February 2007.
Summary: I remember every single thing.
Notes: Coda to 4.04 ‘The Metamorphosis’. Written listening to Jem’s ‘Finally Woken’, though the summary comes from Pulp’s Disco 2000. Thanks to Taylor for making me scramble to remember my A-level French and lamiss12 for correcting it. All mistakes are mine, the characters are not.
Je me souviens, every single thing: shallowness
Taylor returns to Summer’s house, happier than she would have been going back to France, still tasting her kickass peach torte, and the chance to have said merci to Ryan hugging her warm. And beneath it all is the surprise of his kiss. It’s stayed with her all day, through making the pastry to changing her outfit afterwards.
She’d let her imagination go wild, stretching every sinew of her French to fill out the divorce papers, desperate to make Henri’s lawyer, and ultimately his client, believe that she’d found someone way more incroyable than her French husband. The inspiration hadn’t been the muscular arm she’d laid her hand on when she began this, but it had helped to battle the champagne-tinged memories of le Jedi du sex that had come with her back to Newport. And why wouldn’t they? She’d had so little here to crowd them out.
Except Ryan went above and beyond, with a kiss – it wasn’t even frenching – that had left her à bout de souffle.
FIN
