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12 August 2008 @ 09:38 pm
The Hit [The OC; Ryan/Kirsten]  
TITLE: The Hit
PAIRING: Ryan/Kirsten
SPOILERS: None; AU fic (Ryan's older, Kirsten's younger, and Sandy is made out to be REALLY bad here); slight take on Mr. & Mrs. Smith
RATING: R (for language and adult situations)


Nobody came to this section of town. Chino was a bad town to begin with, but especially this section. Drug dealers, derelicts, and... his type. But even in his line of work, Ryan Atwood felt like he didn't belong there. Greasy, shabby-looking men in leather jackets stared him down from surrounding tables like he was the scum of the earth. The pots silently calling the kettle black, he thought. If he didn't have a Glock 18 hidden inside his own leather jacket, he may have been a little intimidated.

Tiredly, he gave a sigh. "This place is smoky as fuck, Marty. I thought I told you I'm stayin' away from that shit." He glared across the small table at the chubby, middle-aged balding man that had summoned him to this smoky Italian dive.

"Not my fault you've become a prissy little fairy and quit smokin'." Marty hailed from Brooklyn, though his accent was waning. To the casual observer, he'd seem like nothing more than a wannabe Soprano. "Next thing ya know, you're gonna be tellin' me you've given up meat. Dick."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Just tell me what you dragged me here to tell me."

Marty blew a puff of smoke off his cigar without removing it from his lips. Ryan withstood the smoke, though he had half his mind to take out his Glock and aim it right between Marty's eyes. "The agency thinks you did well on the Desoto job. Got another one for ya."

"I'm a free-lancer, remember? I'm sick of being tied to one person or one agency. This was my last job for them."

"This one promises to be worth your while."

Ryan merely raised his eyebrows and folded his arms on the table, waiting for Marty to continue. He glanced down as a photograph was passed his way. "Nice eyebrows," he chuffed, staring down at the face of a middle-aged man with graying dark hair, light eyes, and eyebrows bushy enough to need hedge trimmers.

"That's Sandford Cohen, big real estate tycoon in Newport. He just built some big hospital or something."

"Okay..." Another photograph was passed his way, this one of a tall, thin blonde. His brows raised appreciatively. "And this would be?"

"Kirsten Cohen, his wife. Socialite. Rumor has it she's been cheating on him as well as siphoning away the millions he's raked in from that hopsital deal. He wants her gone."

"How soon?" was Ryan's next question.

"Not too soon to arouse suspicion. The wife apparently already thinks he knows. They're looking for a new pool guy. You're it."

He nodded at Marty, dutifully, and slipped both pictures into an envelope. "How much?"

"Man of few words, huh? Perfect for me. Cohen says he'll give you half a mil for the job." Marty chuffed now. "Which seems like more than enough for this chick. She doesn't look like she's worth more than a good fuck and a decent conversation."

Ryan nodded again, took his envelope, and didn't bother to shake Marty's hand as he got up from the table. "Next time I pick the meeting place, huh?"

He barely heard Marty's return grunt before he had stepped out of the restaurant and back under the bright California sun.


"So! Ryan Atwood, this is my wife Kirsten Cohen." Sandford Cohen was the master of pretense, plastering on a fake smile as he gestured between his wife and her would-be assassin.

Ryan, all too used to playing the game, plastered on a smile as well and shook the hand of his latest target, meeting her green-blue eyes. "Mrs. Cohen, nice to meet you."

Sandford turned to his wife. "Ryan and I were just about to sit down and have a little interview."

Kirsten's smile was bright, almost startlingly so, as she replied. "Oh, right! Pool guy interviews were today, I forgot. I'm sorry, sweetie."

"No worries. How about something to drink for Ryan?" Now the pair of eyes hiding under the bushy eyebrows were once again directed back to Ryan. "What would you like to drink, Ryan? Water, tea, beer?"

Ryan glanced toward the patio door, where Kirsten stood waiting with an odd look on her face. Empty, maybe... or perhaps sad. He couldn't have been sure in the fleeting second he studied her. Then, he smiled. "Water would be fine, please. Thank you."

Kirsten smiled back, "Sure thing," and disappeared into the kitchen.

Sandford Cohen laid a hand on Ryan's back and led him away from the patio, into the detached pool house. Once inside, the door was shut and the blinds drawn. "Take a seat, Ryan."

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Cohen."

"Call me Sandy. I'm glad we could meet today. I've been looking for someone like you for awhile."

Ryan nodded along, also used to the double-entendre talk in his line of work. "So I hear."

"This job I'd be hiring you to do..." Sandy leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands gesturing. "It's not just about cleaning the pool. It'd be like... you watching over the entire house. You'd be staying here at the manor with the missus and I."

Ryan nodded. "Yes."

"And it'd be a full-service job. I mean, I sure don't need much, but I want you to make sure that my wife is taken care of." Sandy raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "Understand?"

"Yes, I understand." He threw a furtive glance toward the door to see the shadow of a svelte figure approaching. Probably Kirsten herself, with his water.

Sure enough, the door opened not even three seconds later and she came in smiling. "Here you go, Ryan." She extended a bottle of Fiji to him and he took it, nodding gratefully.

"Thank you."

"So, how is the interview going?" Kirsten took a seat beside her husband, spine straight as a board, smile bright enough to blind.

Dear God, Ryan thought to himself, she's a fucking Stepford Wife.

It would be his easiest job yet.


{x-posted to rystenlove}
Yu: Love (Juliet @ cages)shikabane_mai on August 13th, 2008 04:59 pm (UTC)
OMFG. I LOVE fics like these! (where there's an assassin or whatever needing to kill someone but then ending up falling in love with that person) Because there's so much room for development of the relationship from killer/victim to lovers. :D

Your writing is fabulous as always! This line had me laughing my ass off:
"Dear God, Ryan thought to himself, she's a fucking Stepford Wife."

And I find this line so ironic: "It would be his easiest job yet." because no, Ryan, this will probably be your hardest job ever. ;D

Love your fics and I bet this one will be even awesome-r than ever! :D
a.: rysten; guide you homeregalish on August 25th, 2008 03:20 am (UTC)
HEEEE! Thanks so so much! I can't wait to get deeper into this fic, because I love doing AUs.

Glad you're likin' it :D