Title: Short Two and a Half Sundaes with a Split
By: mickeylover303
Pairing: Ryan/Greg friendship
Rating: G
Words: 1301
Summary: Because they couldn't afford anything else, never mind toppings.

***

“How much do you have?” Ryan asked Greg, watching his friend dig money out of his pockets. He didn’t see why they couldn’t just go to Greg’s house. It was only a couple of blocks away. And Greg’s mom wasn’t yet averse to handling a couple of fourteen year olds…as long as they cleaned up their mess.
 
Because Ryan’s mom wouldn’t let Greg in the kitchen anymore.
 
After that popcorn thing that was actually Ryan's fault.
 
“Umm…seventy-five cents,” Greg counted as he held out his hand.  He only had three nickels, two quarters, and a dime. But he knew it was more than Ryan carried around him and that was something.
 
Maybe he shouldn’t have spent that two dollars on the street vendor, but it was too late by the time Ryan managed to find him again.
 
“And I only have forty-two.”
 
Greg sighed at the blue lint accompanying the change in Ryan’s hands. It must have been luck he even had that because Ryan normally wouldn’t have had anything on him at all if he didn’t take those pants out of the dryer this morning. However, he was grateful for small miracles. “That’s enough to get a small cup...plus tax.”
 
“That’s uh…a dollar and seventeen cents.” Ryan kept the change in his hands. True, he wanted the same thing as Greg, but he wasn’t ready to put his…change in Greg’s hands, yet.  He might run away with it.
 
“Including tax, it’s enough for one scoop and-”
 
“Means we’ll have to share…I don’t want to share,” Ryan said petulantly. He wanted to be selfish this one time. And if Greg hadn’t wasted his money on that questionable looking guy selling silly putty, he could have gotten his own.
 
“I think that’s my line.”
 
“Good point. But I thought you were all germaphobic…and stuff?”
 
“Yeah, but we can split the cup in half. That way our spoons don’t touch.”
 
“But when we put the spoons back, isn’t that the same thing as sharing spit?”
 
“Probably, Ryan. But I want ice cream. Like, right now.” Because it was bad enough he couldn’t get the usual hot fudge as a topping, but he simply didn’t have enough money.
 
“Remember freaking out when your soap fell on the bathroom floor?” Ryan didn’t think he’d ever forget last summer in Miami; they were staying for his uncle Ron’s second wedding when Greg used half the roll of toilet paper to pick up and throw away the fallen soap.
 
“You mean when you purposely put it on the hotel’s tiled floor to see if I would freak out?” He didn’t understand how the brand new soap in his container, still in his unpacked bag, ended up on the bathroom floor.  That disgusting bathroom floor with those small, square tiles.
 
Those were good times…good times. Ryan still couldn’t get over Greg’s squeaks each time the soap fell out of his makeshift tissue glove and he had to keep picking it up. “And you refused to use it, taking-”
 
“Yours instead. Did I mention you don’t count when it comes to germs?”
 
“I know.” Ryan sighed dejectedly. He knew it was a moot point with Greg…and he kind of wanted ice cream, too. And maybe this was one of those ‘what goes around comes around’ things and he just maybe owed Greg something for the soap incident. “But we’re getting vanilla.” Still, if it was one of those ‘what goes around comes around’ things, he’d at least do it under his own conditions.
 
“No.” Greg shook his head slowly, wondering if the sun had more of an effect of Ryan’s mind than he originally thought. “We’re getting chocolate.” Ryan always chose vanilla, never mind that Greg always chose chocolate. That was beside the point.
 
“Vanilla.” Ryan moved closer to Greg, using his height to peer down at his friend…even though it didn’t really seem to be working.
 
“I’m the one with seventy-five cents.” Greg was looking up at him with something akin to a stare…because his nearly crossed eyes were ruining the effect. “I pick chocolate.”
 
“But you can’t have any ice cream without my forty-two cents,” Ryan countered.
 
“Chocolate is the same as vanilla.”
 
Ryan bit his tongue, preventing himself from scoffing at the ill-fated logic. “And how’s that?”
 
“It’s just vanilla flavoured with chocolate.”
 
“It’s not a colour, it’s a flavour. And for the last time…no.”
 
“Fine. Be that way, Ryan. I’ll just ask some nicer person on the street.” Greg began to walk in the opposite direction, nearly ready to ambush some poor unsuspecting woman of the geriatric persuasion. His voice fading as he moved further from Ryan. “Since my best friend-”
 
“What is wrong with you?” Ryan quickly reached to grab Greg’s shoulder, turning him back around before he had a chance to waylay the poor lady. He could think of a hundred and two different ways how the situation would end up. And only one resulted in free ice cream money. “You can’t just ask people for money.”
 
“Why not?” Greg turned his head, not willing to face Ryan. “You won’t give me yours.”
 
Ryan paused, mouth open as if he was about to speak, closing it back when he realised there was no point in arguing with Greg. “Fine…” He moved his hand from Greg’s shoulder, resigning himself to his vanillaless fate.
 
Because he didn’t forget that Sara was back at Greg’s house.
 
“Relax, Ryan.” Greg faced his friend, a teasing smile adorning his face.  “We’ll just get half and half and ask for a separate cup.” He was surprised Ryan didn’t think of this before, but he considered it payback for the soap thing. Greg still couldn’t control the shuddering at the mere memory. 
“A separate cup?” Ryan asked, disbelief displayed on his features. The reasoning behind it was so…he couldn’t think of a word for it but he felt the need to repeat himself, nonetheless. “A separate cup?”
 
“Well, duh. Kind of slow today aren’t you – Ryan…?”
 
“Why are you backing away Greg?” He asked as began walking toward his friend. Greg was entertaining when he felt cornered, appearing lost and scared. True he’d never acted upon his urges to throttle Greg, – there was still Sara to think about – but there was nothing wrong with making Greg think Ryan was going to hurt him.

Because he did at least intend to get his hands on Greg.
 
“Why are you looking at me like that Ryan?” Greg backed away, trying to come up with some sort of escape plan to get to his house. It was a shame he didn’t even get a chance to get his ice cream.
 
“I’ll give you to the count of three.”
 
“We’re in a park Ryan…with witnesses. Let’s not be hasty…”
 
“One.”
 
“But I was just teasing you.” Even though he knew how much Ryan didn’t like to be teased. And even though he knew that Ryan knew how much Greg didn’t like to be tickled.
 
“Two.” He bared his teeth, watching Greg’s eyes dart from side to side, restlessness apparent. Greg was going to run for it. And since Greg could only run home, Ryan wouldn’t have to try too hard to find him.
 
“What would Sara say?” Greg asked in attempt to find a way out of the situation, jumping at the sound of Ryan cracking his knuckles. But maybe that wasn’t the best deterrent because Sara would probably turn the other cheek.
 
Some babysitter she was.
 
“Three.”   Ryan smirked when he saw Greg take off, something on the malevolent side of delight in his eyes at the successful manipulation. Greg’s mom had a bunch of vanilla ice cream at the house. And sure forty-two cents wasn’t a lot of money, but he still got to save it. 

It was funny how things worked out.