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Standing in the wreck that was his new house, watching as Max’s body turned to smoke, it was hard for Sam to believe that they’d won. It was hard for any of them to believe that they’d won. His mother, still holding the cross loosely in her hand, Star and Michael covered in soot and grime, his own face smeared with a mix of warpaint and dirt, the Frogs in their military gear finally not looking out of place. They looked like they’d taken a beating. They had, he supposed. They just came out on top. That fact just hadn’t quite caught up with any of them yet.
Then, the Frogs broke out of their stupor, whooping and cheering like there was no tomorrow. Across the room, Michael and Star started laughing, broken and hysterical, but laughing nonetheless. Even Lucy’s shocked expression broke into a light grin as she looked around at all the carnage.
Alan suddenly crashed hard into Sam’s side, wrapping his arms so tight around Sam’s ribs that it knocked the wind out of him before he broke away and yelled, “Death to vampire scum!” while jumping around like a maniac.
Edgar was next, ramming into Sam head-on and crushing him in a hug so tight he actually picked the smaller boy up off the ground and whirled him around. When he finally set him down, Edgar pulled back, still holding Sam’s shoulders, and Sam caught a glimpse of his face. His warpaint was smudged on the left side and he was bleeding from a small cut over his right eye. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily while he cackled, loud and clear, with relief and elation and days of stress and determination finally coming to a close.
Sam felt his own heartbeat speed up, just a bit, and his face flushed for an entirely different reason. He had the brief and confusing thought that he could stay in this moment — staring at Edgar’s face — forever.
He didn’t get the chance though, because suddenly, Edgar’s eyes flicked downward and, without warning, the taller boy grabbed either side of Sam’s jaw, then lunged forward and kissed him.
Hard.
Square on the mouth.
It was over as soon as it began. Edgar pulled back, eyes wide as saucers, raucous laughter dead in an instant.
“I… uh, I didn’t…” Edgar stuttered, blinking rapidly but unable to tear his eyes away from Sam’s face.
Sam tried to splutter something out, but any words died in his throat. His face and ears burned, especially as he became increasingly aware that all other chatter in the room had died down into a ringing silence.
They were all staring at him.
At them.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” Edgar finally squeaked, dropping his hands from where they’d come to rest on Sam’s shoulders. He turned away, staring down at the rubble on the ground while he scratched anxiously at the back of his neck.
Sam didn’t even think Edgar Frog could get anxious. It was one of the many things he found fascinating about the guy. One of the many, many things that he’d been too caught up in trying to save his brother to really think about. The things that, if he was being honest with himself, he was trying really hard not to think about.
Because… okay, Sam had never really had a crush before. Scratch that— he always told himself that he’d never had a crush before. Because crushes were supposed to be on the cute girl that sat in the back of science class, or the cheerleader that chanted the loudest, or the female lead in the school play. That had never happened to him before, so he told himself that he wasn’t old enough yet, or he just wasn’t as hopped up on hormones as all his peers seemed to be, or that if things were just less stressful at home, then he’d be able to actually feel anything other than the encroaching dread that he had to block out with comic books.
It was only recently — as in, the last day and a half — that he’d accepted that being a little weird might actually be to his benefit. From there, it was about unpacking what ‘being a little weird’ actually meant.
He thought it might mean that he didn’t hate kissing Edgar Frog.
On instinct, he tried to shove that thought away. It fought its way back though, because holy shit, Edgar had just kissed him.
Sam thought he actually might melt into the ground, turn into smoke like the vampires, if the tense atmosphere didn’t break soon. He couldn’t explain himself because he really had nothing to explain, and Edgar, who had turned uncharacteristically into a stuttering mess, didn’t seem likely to help.
It was Alan to the rescue, thankfully. The smaller Frog clapped his hands together, drawing attention to himself. “Anyone up for food? I’m starved.”
Sam’s mom seemed to come back to her senses, averting her eyes from her youngest son and coughing to clear her throat. “I’ll make dinner. I think we have spaghetti.” She turned back towards the kitchen and winced at the state of things. “As long as the stove still works.”
…
Sam hadn’t thought he’d ever be thankful his brother briefly got turned into a vampire, but as fate would have it, that made Michael the center of attention over their late-night dinner. His brother told his story, somewhat bashfully, from start to end, with Star chiming in with extra details, and Alan piping up to tell the Frogs’ side. No one said anything about Sam and Edgar pushing their food around their plates in silence, and pointedly not looking at each other.
When dinner was over and dishes were clean, Edgar ran out of the front door so fast that he left Alan behind. Alan just stared after his brother, shaking his head with his arms crossed.
“I’ll walk you out?” Sam offered, both because it seemed polite and because he could use the fresh air.
“Thanks,” Alan said, and they headed out the door together.
Once they were outside, Sam realized that Edgar had fully taken off. Only Alan’s bike remained propped up against their old fence. He couldn’t even spot a trace of Edgar in the distance. Granted, it was dark, but still pretty impressive that he’d gotten that far.
“Dumbass,” Alan muttered under his breath, righting his own bike. He was about to swing his leg over the seat when he hesitated, running his fingers anxiously over the texture of the handlebar grips. “Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“We don’t… have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”
Sam winced. “No, it’s…” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it was okay. “We have to talk about it eventually, right?”
Alan shrugged, tilting his handlebars back and forth. “There’s a lot of things Ed and I don’t talk about. We’re pretty good at it.”
Sam shifted his feet nervously, kicking at the gravel of their driveway.
“For what it’s worth,” Alan continued, “Edgar kinda works on instinct. He probably did it ‘cause the idea popped into his head, and he didn’t think about it much beyond that.”
Sam chuckled weakly. “Yeah. I’ve gathered that.”
Alan pushed his bike around a bit more, not quite looking at Sam. “Look… it didn’t feel too horrible, right? I’ll pummel him for you if it did.”
“No, definitely not horrible, it just…” Sam scratched at the back of his neck. “It was more confusing than anything. No one’s ever kissed me before so it’s hard to know if it felt like it did because it was a kiss, or because… it was Edgar.” Sam stuttered over the last bit, wanting to bury himself in the gravel rather than keep talking.
Alan looked thoughtful for a moment as he leaned his bike back against the fence. He finally turned towards Sam, examining him with an intense expression that made Sam want to flinch away. After what seemed like barely a second’s consideration, Alan marched forward, grabbed the front of Sam’s vest, and yanked Sam hard down to his level. Their lips crashed together roughly, and a bit off center. It actually lasted longer than Sam’s kiss with Edgar, if only slightly, before Alan let go of his vest and stepped back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“How was that?” Alan asked, serious as ever.
Sam took a moment to answer, stuttering over his words. “It… it was… kind of… gross.” He winced as he said it, hoping he didn’t offend his friend too badly.
Alan nodded. “Agreed. We’ve ruled out the kiss factor. It’s just Edgar.”
“You could have warned me!” Sam cried.
Alan shook his head. “That would have introduced a new factor into the experiment. We needed similar conditions.” Seemingly unconcerned with what he’d just done, Alan grabbed his back again and finally swung himself over the seat. “See you tomorrow, Sam. I’ll try to talk some sense into my brother, don’t worry.”
Sam wanted to stop him, but he didn’t actually know what he’d say. Instead, he just watched Alan pedal off into the night. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and grimaced. Kissing Alan hadn’t been horrible, not really. It just felt… wrong.
Kissing Edgar hadn’t felt wrong.
…
By the time he got back inside, Star was already passed out on their couch, wrapped up in old blankets. She deserves the rest, Sam thought as he walked quietly past her to the stairs.
It seemed like his mom had already retired to her own room, which made Sam breathe a little easier. He wondered if she’d bring it up eventually, or if it’d just get lumped in with all the chaos of the night and eventually forgotten. He tried to tell himself that there really wasn’t anything to talk about. Edgar had been high on adrenaline and didn’t think about what he was doing. Sam had no part in it at all.
With the silence in the rest of the house, Sam actually jumped when he entered his and Michael’s room to find his brother sitting up on his bed, waiting.
“Christ, Mike, don’t scare me like that,” Sam sighed as he shut the door quietly behind him.
“I’m not doing anything,” Michael claimed. “I’m just sitting.”
“Yeah, well… I’m a bit on edge,” Sam mumbled, nearly collapsing on his own bed. He pushed himself up against his headboard, thunking his head against the hard wood. “I’ve had a weird night.”
Michael laughed lightly. “Yeah? I turned back to human from being a vampire, and yet, I somehow believe your night was weirder.” His expression faltered slightly, and he coughed awkwardly before continuing. “So… do you wanna talk about—”
“I’d rather we didn’t.” Sam fought the urge to hide his face.
Michael shifted his weight uneasily, biting his bottom lip like he didn’t know how to proceed. “Did you know he was going to—”
“No.”
“Have you ever, you know, done that before?”
Sam thunked his head against his headboard again. “No.”
“Do you want me to beat him up?”
That one caught Sam off guard. “What? No. Why would I want you to beat him up?”
Michael shrugged, picking at the skin around his fingernails. He almost looked like he wanted to be having this conversation less than Sam, which was impressive in itself. “He kissed you without asking. And… well, he’s a ‘he’. That could end badly.”
Shame started to creep its way up Sam’s neck, and he felt the urge to hide under his blankets and block it all out. Then, he thought a little bit harder about what Michael was saying. He didn’t offer to beat Edgar up just because it was a boy that kissed his little brother, it was because he hadn’t asked. Because it could end badly. Because it was dangerous.
Not because it was wrong.
Sam took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. He was shaking like a leaf, but he forced the words out, voice trembling but audible. “And… if I wanted him to kiss me again… what then?”
Michael took a while to answer, and Sam couldn’t bear to look at him. He stared down at his quilt instead, tracing the stitching with his quivering fingers.
Finally, Michael said, “Then I’ll beat up anyone that says anything about it. Okay?”
Sam nodded, letting out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Okay.”
“And, maybe shoot to have your second kiss somewhere more private, yeah?” Michael joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Third kiss,” Sam corrected absentmindedly, then winced at his own admission.
Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “When did you—”
“Alan just kissed me outside,” Sam muttered quickly. “It was for an experiment though, so I don’t know if it actually counts.”
Michael slowly nodded, eyes still a little wide. “Man, you really did have a weirder night than me.”
…
Sam felt jittery as he rode his bike towards the comic shop the next day, and he couldn’t quite tell what the emotion was. Anxiety, certainly, and apprehension, but there was also part of him that he couldn’t deny felt excited. Excited for what, he didn’t know.
He parked his bike outside and tried to slow himself down before he ran into the shop. He jumped when the greeting bell rang over the door, even though he knew it was coming. There was no one in the comic shop today — it was still early in the morning — just boxes upon boxes of comics and the Frog Brothers flipping through some old issues towards the back. When they saw Sam, Alan smiled and waved like usual, and Edgar actually hid his face behind the comic he was reading, causing Alan to elbow him hard in the side.
“Hey, guys,” Sam greeted as he approached, trying to keep his voice steady, “what’s today’s agenda?”
Edgar made a strangled squeaking noise from the back of his throat and tried to hide his face again, but Alan quickly snatched the comic out of his hands.
“Not much,” Alan answered, staring warningly at his brother. “But I think you two need to talk. Right, Ed?” He sharply elbowed Edgar’s ribs again.
“Right,” Edgar squeaked.
“I’m just gonna go reorganize some comics. Yell if you need me, but you shouldn’t need me.” Alan didn’t take his warning gaze off Edgar, even as he disappeared into the stacks of comics.
There was a few seconds of tense silence before Edgar blurted, “I’m sorry I kissed you!”
Sam winced at the volume. He really didn’t want anyone to overhear, even if the only person around was Alan. “I’m not… mad at you, Edgar, I promise,” he assured. “It’s just… genuinely, what were you thinking?”
Edgar actually seemed to consider the question for a moment, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. “Well, everything was just so exciting, ‘cause we’d won and all. And you were kinda the reason we won. Your brain, your plan. So, I hugged you, ‘cause I couldn’t not hug you. I mean, you killed a vampire with a crossbow! That’s so cool. Like, the coolest thing ever. And Alan and I killed one of ‘em too, and I thought Nothing, absolutely nothing could ever feel better than killing a vampire. But then I was really close to you, and I looked down at your mouth, and I thought That… that might feel better than killing a vampire. So I did it. And I didn’t think about anything else, like… who was watching, or if you’d actually want to…” His cheeks blushed darker and darker red the longer he talked until he finally trailed off, eyes flitting nervously around the store but refusing to look at Sam.
Sam blinked at him a few times, trying to get all that through his skull. “... Was it?”
“Huh?”
“Was it better than killing a vampire?”
Edgar still looked like he wanted to fold in on himself, but he actually smiled despite all of it. “Yeah. Yeah, it definitely was.”
And Sam made a choice. He didn’t think it was a great idea to model much of his life after the Frog Brothers, but if they’d both made it this far acting on instincts, then Sam could stand to try it out. He stepped forward so he was face to face with Edgar, then grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled, forcing the taller boy to hunch over into a quick peck on the lips.
Sam let him go and stepped back, still nervous as all hell, but pleased that, for once, he wasn’t the one left speechless.
“You— you, uh, you,” Edgar shuttered, then gulped as though trying to reset himself. “We, uh, we should do that more often. It’s… nice.”
Sam nodded. “Definitely. And it certainly feels better than kissing your brother, I can tell you that much.”
For a moment, Edgar was still too lost in a daze to process what Sam had said, but then he blinked and cocked his head to the side, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “How do you know that?”
From deep within the stacks of comics, they heard laughter echoing through the store.