ext_1695 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
callmesandy.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2004-08-15 06:23 pm
callmesandy.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-08-15 06:23 pm
The O.C./Everwood by 142978
Fandom: The O.C./Everwood
Pairing: Ephram/Seth
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
142978
Why this really should be read:
Written way in the early days (nearly a year ago!) of the O.C. airing, (and before Everwood's season 2 had begun), this is bringing together of two geeks, two 'no one gets how hot they are?' boys. Ephram and Seth are very similar in surface but with one big difference. I really adore this story, with its lovely Ephram and apt Seth.
It begins: When Ephram sleeps, he dreams of his mother.
Some nights he remembers things from the past, from his childhood. He remembers sitting on her lap in front of their grand piano in the parlor, her long fingers pushing down on his over the keys, her hair curling and brushing and tickling his cheek. He remembers the waffles she used to make, with butter and whipped cream – real whipped cream, thick and soft and smooth, not the stuff from a can – and fresh, dripping berries. He remembers walking in the park, her skirt caught in the wind like a sail.
It's Different, Now.
Pairing: Ephram/Seth
Author on LJ:
142978 Why this really should be read:
Written way in the early days (nearly a year ago!) of the O.C. airing, (and before Everwood's season 2 had begun), this is bringing together of two geeks, two 'no one gets how hot they are?' boys. Ephram and Seth are very similar in surface but with one big difference. I really adore this story, with its lovely Ephram and apt Seth.
It begins: When Ephram sleeps, he dreams of his mother.
Some nights he remembers things from the past, from his childhood. He remembers sitting on her lap in front of their grand piano in the parlor, her long fingers pushing down on his over the keys, her hair curling and brushing and tickling his cheek. He remembers the waffles she used to make, with butter and whipped cream – real whipped cream, thick and soft and smooth, not the stuff from a can – and fresh, dripping berries. He remembers walking in the park, her skirt caught in the wind like a sail.
It's Different, Now.
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