A/N - I really did try to finish another chapter of the Enemy today, but my brain insisted on writing this instead.
As always, I own nothing.
Bedtime
Sam hears his mom's footsteps creaking on the floorboards outside his room. The door opens slowly and her head appears through the gap. "Time for bed, boys," she says.
"Yeah, okay Mom," Sam tells her. He turns a page in his comic book.
Lucy hesitates in the doorway for a moment. "I mean it Sam," she said. "No more late nights, it's not good for you."
Sam can feel his face heating up. This is not doing anything for his reputation. "Yeah, Mom. Soon, okay?" His gaze flicks to Edgar and Alan, both sitting in their sleeping bags on the floor, flashlights, popcorn and comic books scattered around them. He prays she will understand the message.
His mom smiles, half nods and backs out of the room. "You can have another half hour," she says.
Sam clears his throat and brushes a hand over his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. He suddenly feels way too warm. He unzips the side of his own sleeping bag - sleeping in his bed would have negated most of the fun of a sleepover - and smiles nervously. "I don't really have a bedtime," he says. "She's just trying to embarrass me."
Edgar smirks, looking at his red cheeks. "Looks like she's doing a good job."
Edgar and Alan are so cool. And that isn't just his crush on Edgar speaking. They are about the same age as him, born so close together that they both managed to squeeze into the same grade as him at school, but they just seem so much more grown up. They run their own business. Well, sort of. Their parents own it, but they trust their sons with the day to day running of the store. Sam would kill to be given that kind of responsibility, especially over something as awesome as a comic book store. His friends are quite literally living the dream.
Edgar is sorting comics, moving the older ones from the rack of recent issues and into the back issues boxes. Alan is the security guard for the night, standing watch not too far from the door, alert for thieves and trouble makers. Sam helps Edgar, bagging and boarding a few of the comics for him, occasionally reading one instead, leaving Edgar to pick up the slack.
"Shouldn't you be getting home?" Edgar asks him as he closes Batman #404, places it on top of a white piece of cardboard, slides it into a bag and seals it with scotch tape.
Sam frowns. "Want rid of me?"
"No, but it's half past eight. Aren't you supposed to be home?"
Sam glances at his watch. Edgar is right. "What the hell? How did that happen?"
Edgar shrugs.
"Damnit. Can I use your phone? I better tell Mom I'm not dead." He sighs. "You guys have it so good, you know that, right? No curfew, no bedtime. She treats me like a baby."
Edgar pulls the old rotary style phone out from under the cash desk and slides it across to him. Sam can't help but notice that it is camouflage green, he wonders whether Edgar and Alan picked it out themselves. "You all almost got turned into vampires a few months ago," Edgar reminds him. "Can't blame her for worrying."
"Well, I just wish she was more like your folks, that's all. They're so laid back they're almost horizontal." He dials his grandpa's number and listens to it ring.
"Yeah," Edgar says. "We've got it pretty great here, I can see why you're jealous."
Edgar's words were clouded with sarcasm. Sam frowns.
"Why don't you invite your friends over for dinner again?" Sam's mom suggests one Saturday afternoon. She is in the kitchen cleaning. The smell of cookies baking in the oven fills the air.
Sam looks up from his homework and shrugs. "I dunno, Mom. I'm sure they've got more important things to do. They only came before because we were on a mission."
Lucy turned to look at him. She is wearing her apron, covered in a thin dusting of flour. "Please, Sam?" she asks. "I worry about them. I don't think their parents look after them properly."
Sam rolls his eyes, but nods in agreement. It would be fun to have his friends over anyway.
"What do they like to eat?" Lucy asks.
Sam shrugs. He had eaten dinner over at the Frog place while they were planning a mission a few weeks before. It had consisted of bread and margarine with potato chips. "Maybe pasta?" he suggested.
"Hey, Edgar," Sam says one day at school, over lunch.
Edgar looks at him. His bandanna is blue today. Sam prefers the red, but the blue is nice too.
"Are your parents okay? My mom said some stuff, and…" he tails off. Edgar is glaring at him in a way he doesn't like much.
"They're fine," Edgar tells him.
Sam smiles, relieved. "Good. That's what I told her."
"Yeah, well," Edgar said, "make sure you keep telling her that. The last thing we need is another social worker poking around."
Sam concentrates on eating his sandwich.
Sam walks into the comic store early one weekend morning, wheeling his bike with him. The air is filled with the earthy scent of marijuana, smoke drifts out from the back room. He breathes in deeply, wondering whether he would be able to get any kind of a buzz from the second hand smoke.
The store is empty, both of customers and Frogs. He pushes the bike down the isle and leans it up behind the cash desk. "Hello?" he calls.
Alan's head appears through the door. "Sam," He seems surprised, and not exactly happy to see him. "Glad you're here. Do us a favor and keep an eye on the store? We've got a bit of an issue back here."
Sam nods. "Is it vampire related?"
"No, it's just…" he tails off then shakes his head. "Just stay right there in the store, okay? Make sure no one steals anything."
Sam grabs a comic at random from the shelf, opens it on the desk and starts to read. In the back, he can hear noises and the occasional hushed word. Somebody groans quietly. It sounds like Edgar and Alan are trying to drag a semi-conscious body upstairs, he can hear the clunk clunk of feet hitting uncarpeted wooden stairs.
Sam concentrates on his reading, something tells him his friends would rather he didn't know about whatever is happening.
The boardwalk is crowded as usual, groups of friends and holiday makers crushed together, bare, sweaty skin, tattoos, crazy hair. Sam can't get enough. Edgar and Alan are different though; usually they would rather be anywhere else.
"Shouldn't we go back to the store?" Sam suggests. This sun is hovering near to the horizon, the beach is bathed in the kind of golden glow you only get for maybe a half hour each day. It looks beautiful. It also signifies the beginning of prime comic selling time.
Edgar nodded. "Probably should." He glances pointedly at Alan and makes no move to go anywhere.
Sam frowns, "Then, shall we?"
Edgar shakes his head. He looks nervous.
"Our parents are going to take care of things tonight," Alan says.
"Yeah, and we'll see how well that goes." Edgar scoffs.
Alan glances over the beach. The last of the sunbathers are packing up their towels and sunscreen and heading back to their homes and hotels. "Mom says we work too hard, she wants us to have some time to ourselves." He turns to Edgar. "It might be fine," he adds.
"It won't be fine, and you know it," Edgar tells him. "If we get back and half the merchandise hasn't been stolen, it'll be a miracle. Remember that time they fell asleep with the cash register open?"
Sam licks his lips. They taste of salt air and ice-cream. His brow creases in concern. He knows he is being given a glimpse into his friends' private world here; the thing that up to now they have attempted to hide from him. He feels privileged, in a way, but also obligated to help. "You could just go back there and make sure they're okay." he suggests.
Alan shakes his head. "If they are okay, we don't want them to know we don't trust them."
"I want them to know," Edgar mutters.
"Okay, how about this," Sam says. "We'll stay here, go get a cola or something, do a bit of people watching, then in an hour or so when thing should have gotten busy, I'll go check on them for you."
Alan looks thoughtful. He nods, and grins at Edgar, Edgar scowls back at him but nods his agreement at the compromise. "But what if things are okay? I feel like we've been kicked out of the house, we don't have the money too hang on the boardwalk all night like a bunch of tourists."
"We can go back to mine," Sam suggests. "My mom's been nagging me for a family night, she finally unpacked the box with all the boardgames in the other day. I warn you though, 'board' will be the operative word. Get it? Board, bored..?"
Edgar twists his lips into a close approximation of a smile. "I think when she said family night, she probably meant your family, not ours," he says.
Sam shakes his head. "Are you kidding? You saved our lives. You are family."
"Hey, Mom?"
Lucy glances up from her magazine and smiles at her youngest son. Sam is curled into an armchair, a comic book resting on his knee, open somewhere in the middle. He is chewing nervously on the nail of his left thumb. Nanook lays on the floor next to him, panting gently.
"You know I love you, right? I wouldn't change you for anything."
Lucy frowns, suddenly concerned. "What's brought this on?"
Sam shrugs. "Nothing."
She puts down her magazine and crosses the room to him, perches on the arm of his chair and wraps an arm around his shoulders, then she leans over and kisses him on the cheek.
"Mom!" Sam wipes furiously at his cheek with his hand.
Lucy smiles. "Time for bed," she tells him.
Sam sighs, but closes his comic without argument and stands up. Nanook follows him up the stairs.