A/N: This takes place about a year after the movie. I'm guessing that Sam was about 14 then. I made Edgar the elder Frog, so Alan's the same age as Sam.

I'm so pleased that there is finally a category for The Lost Boys, that I'm finishing off a story that I stared over four years ago, and has survived at least five computer moves (which has got to be some sort of record for me). The first half of the first scene I wrote in high school. The rest of it I wrote this weekend. Next to nothing in the original 500 words has been changed.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

The fifteen year old bound through the door, causing the chimes on it to ring uncontrollably. "Hey guys!"

"Keep it down!" Alan yelled. "The 'rents are sleeping." He poked a thumb in the direction of the couple dosing in the corner.

"So shut up, asshole," Edgar muttered without looking up from his work. A greasy carburetor sat on the counter beside the cash register. Edgar had a screwdriver in hand, and was taking it apart.

Sam ignored the he brothers' bickering and walked down an aisle. "Is the new Batman in yet?"

Edgar looked up, brushing a lock of long, unkempt hair out of his eyes with a greasy hand. "Dude, aren't you a little old for comics?"

Sam ignored him again, shuffling through the racks for anything new while Alan hastily hid the comic book he was reading from his brother. "Since when did you decide to turn fifty?" Sam asked, leaning against the counter with the new Batman book. He started flipping through the pages. "Ever since you got that stupid car."

"Which ran yesterday," Edgar remarked.

Sam put down the comic. "No shit? So when do we get a ride?"

"When I fix the carburetor."

"Something broke, and he's not sure what," Alan said.

"I'll figure it out. Eventually."

"Next century, maybe."

"Actually, it has to work by Saturday."

"Hot date," Alan remarked to Sam.

"Really? Who?"

Edgar put down his screwdriver. "I think I got it!" He held up a twisted piece of metal. "This thingamajig is broken."

The two other boys stared. "So what do you replace the thingamajig with?" Alan asked.

"I don't know." He paused. "Watch the shop. I'll be right back." He rushed off towards the garage the next block over, where he got parts in exchange for old Aqua Man comics.

Sam picked up his comic again. "What girl?" he asked offhandedly.

"A senior. Gena Ryan. The older woman," he said ominously, then laughed.

"Isn't she supposed to be a slut or something?"

Alan grinned. "Why do you think he asked her?"

"Oh my," Sam mocked in a high, wavering voice. "Our little boy is growing up." He faked a few dry sobs before laughing.

"So you ever wonder why we never get dates?"

Sam shrugged. "We still wear Superman pajamas to bed?"

The other boy laughed. "You have Superman pajamas?" Sam glared. "No, no, I'm not laughing." He snorted. "Superman pajamas."

"Hey," Sam countered. "You've still got a teddy bear. You hide it under your pillow. I've seen it."

"Shut up," Alan punched his friend in the arm.

Sam laughed. "Widdle Alan still sleeps with his teddy bear. Isn't that sweet."

"Okay, that's it!" Alan launched himself at Sam, and the two were soon engaged in a wrestling match between the isles of comic books. "Take it back, Samuel Emerson! Take it back now!" Sam shook his head, laughing as Alan caught him up in a headlock.

"Don't use my full name," Sam finally gasped, breaking out of the headlock and pinning Alan against a rack of graphic novels. It fell over, the books raining on top of them.

Edgar chose that moment to return, finding the two of them sprawled on the floor, surrounded by books. "See what I mean about acting like children?" He stepped over them. "Now clean this up."

"Sorry," Sam said, rolling off of Alan. "You need to lighten up. Live a little."

"Believe me, as soon as I get this car running, I'll be living a lot more than you dorks ever will."

The two were standing up now, glaring at him. "Oh, Gena," Sam said, deepening his voice and looking at Alan.

"Oh, Edgar!" he replied.

"Gena, I could never live without you!" He swept up Alan into his arms. "Kiss, kiss, kiss!" Both Sam and Alan were laughing, but Edgar scowled.

"Why don't you two fags go get a room somewhere and leave me alone? I'm trying to work, and I've never met a more distracting pair."

"Fine, we'll leave." Sam shoved Alan away rather harshly, knocking him into yet another rack of comics. Sam exited the shop before another word was said.

"Geez, Edgar, what'd you do that for?" Alan asked, rubbing the side of his head that connected with the rack. "You know how upset he gets when you say stuff like that!"

"Well, he is a fag, and the sooner he admits it, the better off he'll be. He knows it, we know it—it's stupid that he doesn't admit it."

Alan continued to scowl. "Yeah? Well maybe it's harder than you think." But Edgar was ignoring his brother, returning his attention to the mess of car parts and grease on the counter. Alan frowned at his brother, then slammed out the comic shop behind Sam.

Once on the boardwalk, however, Sam was nowhere to be found in the throng of summer people. I can't wait for the off-season… Alan thought, trudging down the walk towards the beach.

Three days later Sam was lounging on the beat up-couch, wearing his old 'Born to Shop' t-shirt, and flipping through the channels on the new television. "Boring, boring, seen it, boring… " He sighed and tossed the remote on the coffee table. "Grandpa! There's nothing to watch!"

"Are you surprised?" his grandfather called back from his workshop. "Come help me with something back here, will ya Sam? If you have nothing better to do."

"That's okay, Grandpa."

"You sure?"

The phone rang from several places in the house, and a moment later Michel was calling down the stairs, "Sam, it's one of your weird friends!"

"Saved by the bell," Sam muttered, scrambling for the phone. "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Alan. You doing anything tonight?"

"I'm doing whatever you're doing. Just get me the hell out of this house." Alan laughed on the other side of the line.

"There's a bonfire on the beach tonight. You coming?"

"I'm in."

"Great. I'll see you in a couple hours then."

The cars, motorcycles, dirt bikes and bicycles, were lined up in the parking lot. The Santa Barbara kids were a motley bunch of punks, neo-hippies, metal heads, and people who just really needed to shower. Their vehicles reflected that. He recognized Edgar's ancient Nova and gave it a kick with his sneaker. Sam parked his bright orange bike next to a dented up Chevy truck, and made his way down to the beach.

This was a private section of the shore, cut off from the tourist beach by an outcropping of rocks. Set in a little alcove surrounded by rocks on three sides, a huge bonfire had been constructed in the center of the mini-beach. There were a couple dozen young people, some of them in the water, some dancing, some sitting around. A boom box blared Doors music, and the sand was littered with coolers full of beer.

Sam grabbed a can from one, cracking it open and taking a long swig. God, I hate beer. He took another swallow. "Hey, Sam!" Alan shouted from the other side of the fire. Sam couldn't help but smile, and weaved through a cluster of dancers to get to his friend. "Great party," he shouted over the music.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Where's Edgar?"

"In the water with Gena. Their clothes are over there." He motioned with his own beer bottle. "All of them."

"You mean they're naked?" Alan nodded. "I just got a really cool idea."

"This is a really bad idea," Alan said a few minutes later, as they were climbing back over the rocks separating the private beach from the public one. Each boy had a wad of clothing in one hand, and a beer in another.

Sam shook his head. "This is a great idea!"

"What are we going to do with them?"

Sam took a long drink of his beer, emptying the can and throwing it aside. He had Edgar's jeans and Gena's underwear in his hands, which he wadded up into a tight ball and tossed them as far into the ocean as he could. "They're just going to come back in with the waves."

"Yeah, but until they do?"

"We are so going to get our asses kicked, just so you can get revenge for one smart remark."

"They wont even know it's us. C'mon, do it."

Alan sighed, but complied with Sam's request, heaving his ball of clothes as far out into the water as he could. "Okay, now lets get a couple more beers and then make for the far side of the beach. I'm not going to be around when they discover what we've done."

Sam went back to the fire and dig up four more bottles from someone's cooler (Alan refused to go near the party), and made his way back to Alan waiting on the other side of the rocks. The two boys walked side-by-side, perhaps a little closer than two best friends should walk, but no one still on the beach that night would notice.

They were half a mile from the boardwalk, where the beach was again deserted. "So, okay. I got a joke," Alan said between swallows. Three beers were enough to get them both comfortably buzzed (they were only fifteen after all).

"What's your joke?" Sam asked, leaning into Alan.

"A skeleton walks into a bar, right? He orders a beer and a mop." Sam looked at him blankly. "That's it."

"Order's a beer and a…oh. Ha! C'mon, lets sit down. That was good, that was good. Okay, okay. A vampire walks into a bar—"

"God, no! No vampire jokes. Besides, you've told me this one before and it is bad. You hear me? The absolute worst."

"Fuck you."

"You wish."

Both boys got quiet. Alan found a piece of broken shell in the sand and chucked it into the ocean. "So."

"So."

They were silent a few moments more. "I wanna tell you a secret," Sam said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gay."

"I know." Allen found another shell, this one he kept in his hand, rubbing the sand out of the smooth inside. "You know that I know."

"I know. I just though I'd say it."

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

A few moments later, quite unexpectedly, Alan leaned over, kissing Sam ever so softly, and parting after the briefest of moments. "Sorry about that," he muttered. Sam looked at his best friend with wide eyes. Alan looked back. "Can I do it again?"

"Are you insane?" Sam continued to stare.

"Maybe." He looked across the water. "I don't like guys," he said, before turning back to Sam. "But I like you."

"You are insane."

"Just give me a chance." He moved closer to Sam, and Sam didn't try to move away. "Do you have any better offers?"

"No, but—"

"Then chill out. You've always been too neurotic for your own good."

Sam reached up to place a shaking hand on Alan's cheek. "I am not." This time it was he who initiated the kiss, and pushed Alan back onto the sand. "You promise you're not going to regret this?"

"Never."

Edgar and Gena, bodies streaming with water, finally emerged from the waves. "C'mon, baby," Gena said, heading towards where they left their things. "Let's get out of here and find somewhere a little more private."

"Uh, yeah." Edgar strode up ahead. "Um, where're our clothes?"

It was almost morning when Sam and Alan found their way back up the beach. The sun was rising over the parking lot, where a few stray cars still remained. (Edgar's, however, was gone). Alan reached his bicycle first. "So I'll see you later?" he asked, almost shyly.

"Yeah. Later."

Alan grinned then, kissing Sam on the cheek before straddling his bike and riding off.

Sam was smiling too, and continued to do so for the entire ride home.

Alan crept into the room he and Edgar shared. His brother opened his eyes briefly. "You get lucky?" Alan asked him.

"No," Edgar groaned. "Some asshole stole our clothes. She got pissed off and took off without me. Why the hell are you getting in so late?"

"I got lucky."