"Stan, maybe you should chill on the drinking."

Kyle's voice sounds a million miles away as I turn the bottle bottoms up, the chilled rim pressing hard against my lips. It burns going down, but just in the way I like, and as I bring the bottle down I drag my focus back onto the party around me. I'm usually not very big into parties, but they're definitely big into me. Once I hit sophomore year and Craig told everyone about dad buying me a six pack for my 16th birthday, I was automatically a must-have at every event. As stocked as our alcohol cabinet stayed, and as drunk as my dad always was there was no way a few missing bottles would go noticed every few weeks or so. Plus, South Park wasn't a big town, a few bottles was all one needed to supply a party like this.

"Stan, are you fucking deaf?"

I draw my attention back to Kyle, and goddammit he looks so good when he's pissed. He recently got an undercut, allowing his curly, lively hair to swing in his face just enough to be devastatingly cute. His thick dark brows are furrowed, and his hazel eyes are locked dead into mine as color rises into his cheeks. Damn, maybe he is a little angry.

I lean in harshly, using the crowd and my intoxication levels as excuses to get a little closer than I should. My lips brush his ear lobe by accident, but I feel his body stiffen under me.

"Look, it's a party," My words are slurring and it's almost obnoxious, but I don't try to mask it any. "This is literally the only way to have fun at one of these things."

I push the bottle into his hands as Eric's voice echoes from somewhere down the hallway.

"Kenny, you get your bitch ass back over here with my hat right fucking now! I swear to christ McCormick I will shit on everything you love!"

Before either of us can respond a blur of strawberry blonde rushes past, leaving the scent of waffles behind it. Butters bumps into Kyle and I abruptly, nearly causing me to tip the bottle over on Kyle's thin grey sweater.

He shoves through the crowd, a look of worry stretched over his face and a lack of pants over his legs as Kenny dashes behind him, a shitfaced grin plastered to his face as he cackles loudly, Eric's hat being the only article of clothing on his body.

Cartman recently acquired what has now been identified as the worst haircut ever. An uneven hard part ran almost through the center of his head, his thick hair poking straight up from being cut too short on one half of his head. Granted, if fixed correctly it wouldn't look too horrendous, but was Eric really ever going to put effort into his looks? Probably not.

Kyle's gaze follows Kenny's bare ass out of the room before locking back into mine. He snatches the bottle from my hand, and in one smooth movement is pouring the liquor down his throat, his pretty pink lips wrapped around the bottle.

I force myself to look away before I let my thoughts get the best of me, my gaze catching a lone Craig through the kitchen doorway. It was pretty vacant in the kitchen, a few kids from different cliques I didn't recognize and then Craig, pushed up on a counter near an open window, cigarette in hand. Craig's silver eyes seemed empty behind the lenses of his lime green prescription glasses, black unwashed hair tousled messily around his face. Craig hit puberty like a brick in eighth grade, a hard jawline and defined arms coming from what seemed like nowhere. He seemed to stick to himself most of the time, when he wasn't hanging out with Tweek that is, but he still talked to all of us when the opportunity arose. I guess I should make some opportunity.

I give Kyle some drunk excuse about needing something from the kitchen, which he probably doesn't hear as his attention is drawn to Eric, who entered the room while I wasn't paying attention and is now trying to wrestle a naked Kenny down from on top of a bookshelf.

Craig catches my eye as I walk in, and as a slow grin stretches over his olive skin I tell myself this probably isn't the best idea.

"Stan," he shifts his position on the counter, turning to face me as I lean on the counter beside him. "This doesn't really seem like your kind of scene."

"I could say the same about you."

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his dark blue hoodie, some college logo painted across the front of it, and offers me his lighter.

"Nah man, I prefer to ruin my liver, not my lungs."

He shrugs. "Pick your poison."

"So why're you here? Where's Tweek?"

He blows smoke out the window, his eyes never leaving mine. "He's upstairs arguing politics with the theater kids. It got way too loud, so I dipped. Not that it's any better down here. Where's Kyle?"

I sigh, trying my hardest not to be irritated but being too drunk to care. "Don't say it like that. And he's in the dining room watching Kenny run around naked."

Craig's brows furrow as I reach into his hoodie pocket, pulling back out his cigarettes.

"Yikes," I drunkenly fumble with the lighter for way to long before he takes it from me. "Trouble in paradise?"

He places the lit cigarette on my lips, and I keep my eyes locked into his. "We aren't together. We never have been."

Craig scoffs and rolls his eyes, and I mentally debate whether or not he's as drunk as I am right now. I pull my cigarette out, roughly blowing smoke in his face, and he grabs the collar of my shirt as he hops down from the counter. Our faces are inches apart as he lightly blows smoke to fill the space between us. Craig's always been hotheaded, but this is more than that. He wanted to be this close to me.

"Back off, Stanley." His words slip lightly out of the corners of his mouth and a grin lightly replaces any residing anger. Oh yeah, he's drunk.

I plant my palms on both of his shoulders, flipping him around so his ass is pressed into the edge of the counter before dragging one hand down to his waist, keeping him right where I want him. "You sure you want me to?"

The bud of his cigarette falls to the ground between us, and neither of us pay attention to it. His grin grows as he leans into my neck, and while my head is telling me to get out, somewhere deep between my hips is screaming to drag him out to the backseat of my truck where I know no one will bother to check.

His lips barely nip at my jawline as I let the smallest drunken moan escape into the air. Fuck, this is such a terrible idea. I'm so drunk, and Craig is so hot, but Kyle is so a room over and probably wondering where I am right now and Tweek is so upstairs and could come down at any minute but this is so something I've been wanting for so long and-

His lips lock around the base of my neck, teeth raking against my skin and I feel my knees almost give out. Drunken hormones rage against the zipper of my pants as I push him back up on the counter, my cigarette falling somewhere on the ground with his. He laughs as his head bumps harshly into the cabinet behind him but I'm in no mood for laughing as I slam my lips against his.

His mouth is already open and I kiss him hard enough to bruise as I let my tongue slip into his without hesitation. He moans into my mouth and it elicits a rough movement from my hips into his, and goddammit I really hope the kitchen cleared out because I didn't even bother to check, but who really cares amirite?

He pushes himself down, his belt buckle clicking against mine and I look at him like deprived child.

He laughs again before leaning in against me. "Let's take this outside, alright?"

I can't speak, I just nod, and as we both slip out the back door my eyes catch a flicker of Kyle from the hallway. A fully dressed Kenny sits beside him now, looking a little worse for wear, but then again, so does Kyle. Maybe I shouldn't have convinced him to drink. He's leaned in a little too close for my liking, and Kenny is whispering something just goddammed hilarious into his ear. Kyle's laugh echoes down through the back door as the cold air slaps roughly against us, Craig's hand slipping smoothly into my back pocket.

Craig's done this too many times, I can tell. I almost consider asking him how many times he's cheated on Tweek. He seems way too confident, way to at ease as he takes my truck keys from my pocket and presses the button to unlock the car door. He opens it with ease, cranking it as he slips into the driver's seat, and I take the opportunity to pull him by his belt loops to face me, pushing in between his legs.

Craig moans as I drag my tongue against his jawline, planting a firm kiss against the jutted bone. He slips his hands under my shirt, cold palms raking up my spine.

"You know I never could see you dating Kyle," He talks lowly through a crooked grin as I suck lightly against his collarbone. "He's pretty fucking annoying, he seems like too much of a pussy boy anyways."

"What?" I pull myself off of Craig in one quick motion, nearly tipping myself over into the snow.

Craig huffs in disappointment from the sudden change of pace. "Well, he just doesn't seem like your type. Look I know you guys are like friends or whatever but he's definitely not in your league."

"My league…" I try to catch my breath but the the cold air chasing down my throat makes it seem impossible. What am I doing out here? "And you, Craig? You're in my league?"

He shrugs, his legs swinging from the driver's seat, a loose grin spread over his face. "I mean, I'd like to think so."

I grab the collar of his hoodie roughly, dragging him out and slamming the door behind him.

"Yo, what the fuck Marsh?"

"Shut the fuck up."

I leave the truck cranked as I trudge back into the house through the snow. I had one thing on my mind currently: getting Kyle, and getting the fuck out of this stupid party.

Did people really associate me with shitheads like Craig? Were we really the same breed?

All I could think about as I walked through the snow, Craig's angry shouting trailing behind me, was Kyle.

The way Kyle draped himself over the table, the way Kyle leaned into Kenny so effortlessly, the way Kyle laughed at whatever the fuck Kenny said.

I swing the front door open, leaving it open for Craig behind me, who steps in coolly as if nothing ever happened. I turn right, my eyes locked in on the dining room doorway, and I hear Kyle's voice lightly underneath the sound of heavy music and a drunk Kenny.

I push a little too hard past a small clump of people, drunkenly staggering through the doorway. At first a wind of panic runs through me as I can't seem to spot Kyle anywhere in the room, but then I see him in the back corner on the floor. He's sitting with his hands wrapped around his knees, back pressed against the wall sandwiched in between Tweek and Kenny, who are deep in conversation about who knows what. Kyle looks effortlessly beautiful in the dark light, his jawline sticking out roughly as the back of his head rests against the wall, his dark hazel eyes lazily switching between the two blondes beside him. I notice the bottle I gave him earlier is wrapped tightly in Tweek's hand, who is swinging it around angrily as I step through a group of freshman to the other side of the room.

"-but that's why I don't talk to Craig about- OH. Hey Stan!"

Tweek's voice is soft and rough at the same time, and I kind of wish I knew the context of the conversation.

"Hey Tweekers." I grab the neck of the bottle, pulling it from Tweek's hand and I lock eyes with Kyle as I take a sharp swig. Jesus Christ he looks pissed. I toss the bottle back to Tweek who barely catches it, and pray my liquid courage doesn't run dry as extend my hand to the prettiest, pissed off, redhead in the world.

"Where'd you go?"

I open my mouth to spew some bullshit excuse, but before I can even get a word out a shoulder bumps way too roughly into mine.

"Get up Tweek, lets fucking go."

Tweek stumbles over his words, dropping the bottle on the ground as Craig grabs the underneath of his upper arm roughly, yanking him off the floor.

"Hey, what the fuck!" Kenny pushes himself up off the ground in a heartbeat, and I press my hand lightly against his chest. Kenny had a soft spot for family violence, and literally anyone could tell you why. As fucked up of a household as Kenny had grown up in, I could completely understand why the situation had made him so tense, but Craig was drunk, and I knew well enough that he would never hurt Tweek. Well, physically.

My eyes meet Craig's and his brows furrow as Tweek stands in front of him.

"Craig," Kyle stands up slowly, and I can tell he's trying to sound as sober as possible. "Maybe you need to calm down."

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down, kike."

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Kyle's hands plunge into my chest in a weak attempt to hold me back, but it's almost like air as I push through them. I shove Tweek to the side a little too harshly and I don't even blink as I press both hands against Craig's chest and slam him into the wall behind him.

I know I can take Craig right now in front of everyone, and even if I couldn't Kenny is right behind me, and I know he has no problem stepping in for me. Liquid courage is pumping as fast as it can through my veins and I can feel my face catch fire at the thought of his words. Who does he think he is, fucking Cartman 2.0?

"Funny, you're trying to fight me now but you damn near had my dick in your throat earlier."

My fist swings into the wall directly beside Craig's head, my knuckles driving dents in the drywall.

"I didn't realize who was under who, maybe we should ask Tweek who bottoms."

I feel Tweek and Kyle's hands pawing against the back of my shirt, and a combination of the two forces me to back off.

I untangle my arms from Craig's, who's hands are wrapped tightly against the sleeves of my shirt, and fall back into Kyle and Kenny, giving Tweek a remorseful look and making a mental note to text him later as Kyle drags me to the front door.

"You stupid, drunk, hardass piece of shit, dumb…"

I try my hardest not to laugh as Kyle drags me by the hand to my truck, pushing me up into the passenger seat before climbing over me into the drivers. His ass grazes over my lap for a millisecond but it's enough to hang in my memory for months to come.

When he's finally in his seat, buckled in and car cranked, he texts Kenny to let him know we made it to the car okay and tosses me an angry glance.

Goddammit he looks so good, he's so gorgeous and I'm so drunk.

He's talking now but I can't hear a thing he's saying, and he looks more worried now than angry. I just keep looking at the way he moves his arms when he talks, the way his lips look as he wets them with his tongue in between sentences, the way he runs his fingers through his hair in a failed effort to push it out of his face.

"Kyle?"

He stops, drawing his attention towards me and putting his hands down in his lap.

"Yeah?"

"I think I might be in love with you."