Title: The Saturday After Friday
By: mickeylover303
Pairing: Ryan/Greg friendship
Rating: PG
Words: 1234
Summary: When you're twelve, you're twelve and despite experience, you do things anyway.

“No, I’m not,” Greg protested, trying to reposition himself more comfortably. The unidentifiable yellow material squeaked with each movement and he was only glad he already put up his helmet. Although, he did regret losing his plastic axe while he and Ryan were trick-or-treating.
 
“I'm not the one who was screaming behind the couch when we saw Carrie.” Ryan pushed his red cape behind him, crossing his blue clad arms over a recognisable red and yellow insignia as he looked at Greg. He narrowed his eyes, wishing he really did have heat vision because the thought of setting Greg on fire was mildly amusing, especially considering Greg's costume.
 
“Oh, yeah...” Greg began to retort, trying to think of something as equally embarrassing for Ryan. “Well...at least I don't jump in my best friend's bed in the middle of the night.”
 
Ryan was unaware of his mouth moving – if it couldn't decide whether to remain open or closed. He was too busy concentrating on the fact that Greg had brought up a sensitive topic.
 
Because he still forced Greg to take the scenic route with him to school...even if it meant getting up earlier in the morning. To think they actually had an “Elm Street” in San Gabriel, California. “The floor was...” Ryan shivered, taking his eyes off the screen. He tried to focus on the light reflecting on Greg's face instead of the barely perceptible screams coming from the television. “It wasn't comfortable, all right. Besides, you're the one who wouldn't let go of me.”
 
“You picked the movie,” Greg accused, also taking his eyes off the television.
 
“It's not even real.” At least that's what Ryan kept telling himself. “You're still alive.”
 
“But dreams, Ryan, dreams. He comes to me in my dreams. Waiting...biding his time.”
 
For once, Ryan had nothing to say against Greg's paranoia. He didn't want to admit that Freddy would make appearances in his dreams, as well. “I thought we were going to watch Charlie Brown this year?” Because really, it was a lot less horrific than Halloween.
 
“And ruin tradition?”
 
“How did you get this, anyway?” Ryan asked, knowing Greg's mom – or his for that matter – would never let him watch an R rated movie...despite the fact that they've done it many times before. The only difference tonight was the fact that they weren't alone and Sara was in the kitchen.
 
Doing whatever baby-sitters do.
 
“I don't borrow and tell?”
 
“Archie.” Ryan sighed wearily, but didn't really say much against it. Greg was beyond help – he was already corrupted.
 
Greg shrugged his shoulders, flinching when he heard more screams. Setting the volume on low didn't really do much to quell his imagination.
 
“Let me guess...” Ryan peered at Greg with one eye, wondering when he'd closed his eyes. “The naked girl.”
 
“Duh,” Greg admonishingly, peaking at the screen in between his fingers through the hand that covered his eyes. It may have been a mere fifteen to thirty seconds – in total – of her breasts bouncing, but it was well worth it...despite the questionable price of actually sitting through a scary movie.
 
Ryan ignored Greg's tone of voice, more attentive to the change in music from the movie. “Is it over?” he asked Greg.
 
“I don't know...you look.”
 
“I asked you first,” Ryan argued, almost startled when Greg took hold of his hand, feeling the body heat of the other boy.
 
“Fine...” There was somewhat of a pause, followed by a short, clicking sound. “It's over. The credits are on.”
 
“You didn't even look.”
 
“But I turned the TV off so that’s pretty much the same thing.”
 
Ryan didn't say anything. It wasn't exactly what he asked, but the solution served its purpose. “Could you let go of my hand, now?”
 
“No,” Greg said plainly, honestly not sure if he could let go of Ryan's hand.
 
“You'll squeeze my hand off.” Ryan opened his eyes again, almost wincing at Greg's firm grip.
 
“You can't do that, Ryan.” Greg looked at his friend suspiciously, almost wary of his own statement and the possibility of actually squeezing Ryan's hand off.
 
“It felt like it last time.”
 
“Obviously, you still have your hand if-”
 
“Shh.,” Ryan interrupted, lowering his head as if he was waiting for something.
 
“What?” Greg whispered, moving himself even closer to his friend. If there was one thing Ryan was, it was perceptive and he had incredibly good hearing. And although he knew they were probably over-reacting, Greg didn't want to take any chances. It was better to be safe than sorry.
 
Especially on Halloween.
 
“You heard that?” Ryan asked. It sounded like a footstep, a heavy one that probably carried a heavy person. And the only person Ryan could attribute to that description was Mr. O’Reilly and there was no way their principal was in Greg’s house.
 
“What was that?”
 
“That noise-”
 
“Ryan, it's Michael,” Greg said hurriedly, making sure he had a firm grip on Ryan's hand. His mind was racing. What if Michael had already gotten to Sara? He knew she took karate lessons, but Michael probably didn't even give her a chance to scream. But he couldn’t dwell on that now…she was already a lost cause.
 
Letting fear overtake any sense of rationality, Greg was already calculating how long it would take for Ryan and him to make it to the front door.
 
Because trapping themselves inside the house was not an option.
 
He'd seen enough horror movies to know better than that.
 
Ryan wanted to roll his eyes, but truthfully, Greg's conclusion wasn't that far off from his own. True, they didn't personally know anyone with a last name of Myers, nor did he or Greg associate with anyone named Michael, Mike or anything along those lines. And yes, he knew that the movie was purely fictional.
 
But fiction is loosely based on some kind of truth.
 
At least that's what Ryan was trying not to tell himself.
 
And he tried to keep that train of thought because at that very moment, he heard a growl. It was a low, more than just menacing kind of growl and he didn't care if it was Greg's stomach because of all of the candy they ate earlier. The fact remained that it was still a growl and apparently Greg thought so, too because suddenly they were both on their feet, scrambling off the couch and up the stairs – despite what experience in watching horror movies had taught them.
 
Logic was left with the nearly empty bowl on candy placed innocuously on the coffee table.
 
Halfway up the steps, they didn't even think of the fact that Sara was downstairs; even if Michael Myers was in the house, she was still scarier. And Ryan ignored Greg's cries of saving the candy they left, muttering something about necessary sacrifices as he realised Greg was actually going to attempt to “rescue” said candy.
 
And when they finally made it to Greg's room, both boys sitting against the door and panting heavily, they didn't see Sara making herself comfortable on the couch; in her lap their large bowl of candy that was abandoned in lieu of – what they thoughts as – their lives.
 
And they definitely didn't see the small smirk playing upon Sara's lips, nor the soft laughter as she spoke to no one in a room that bared no trace of one Michael Myers.
 
“Gets them every time.”