Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at works/5842123.

If spite could get me a 6 pack, I'd be Kylo Ren.

by Spinestalker

Notes: half the time I don't even take the work titles seriously anymore...

It was a 15 by 49 foot testament of spite that stood proudly over the freeway. Normally it wasn't a problem; Stan was able to ignore it and Kyle usually dismissed it with a derisive snort. It was a 10 second view, max, if traffic was moving the way traffic should be, but it was The 5 and what was already a trip delayed by the usual post 5pm congestion had been made worse by an overturned truck and miserable weather. They'd moved a mile in an hour and had been sitting still for a solid 5 minutes.

He would have been content mentally working over notes for a set of lyrics that had been forming but for Kyle a massive picture of Eric Cartman was a personal insult (though knowing his husband's ex, it might have been.)

"I mean look at it. Its soft core porn."

Stan looked from the vanity license plate he was trying to decipher to the underwear ad. He had to agree, it was obscene, though only because Eric Cartman had become hot. The picture, artistically black and white, featured him in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, six pack, and a cocky smirk Stan suspected was directed at Kyle. He could imagine Cartman taking pleasure in thinking his ex-boyfriend was forced to look at him during traffic jams. He'd been fat when they were together. Though that was almost 7 years ago, they didn't break up because of his weight, exactly. They broke up because Cartman was a dick. Stan was the more attractive dick Kyle had wanted to ride in the back of a limousine.

As far as Stan was concerned, Cartman could have a hot body and Calvin Klein contract. Stan was still hotter, was a multi platinum artist, and was still the cock Kyle wanted.

Kyle huffed, then pulled back up his phone to angrily thumb through a distraction. Silence lasted a solid 4 seconds before he jammed his thumb at the picture again.

"I'm all for normalizing bodies that is just obscene. Children see that crap every day."

They both looked back where a red headed girl sat strapped in her car seat, earbuds dangling along her jaw and nose glued to the tablet where she watched the her newest favorite movie for the 100th time.

"Would you feel better if I took off my shirt?" he offered.

Kyle gave him a considering look, eyes traveling over Stan's torso. "Maybe later."

The traffic moved and Stan let the car roll forward a few hundred feet, just enough to put Cartman out of line of sight.

"You know, you used to give me blowjobs when we were stuck in traffic."

"Shush. We used to not have Abigail, who can probably still hear us."

"She's not paying attention," he said confidently. She was only 3, but she'd already learned to tune out when Kyle ranted.

"Still," Kyle glanced back to her again, her chapped lips moving to the words on the screen. "Kenny said they've started another reunion rumor."

"Yeah?"

"I told him it won't happen. They couldn't afford half of us. Hell, Tweek alone would kill the budget."

"Yeah, and now he's got another Oscar nod."

"Ugh, I'm so envious it's disgusting. I hope he wins this year, though. have you seen him? He's down to 120 pounds."

"That Del Toro movie he's on?"

"Yep. See, that shit's the reason I was such a horrible actor. He's had nothing but coffee and apples for two months. I never had that discipline, I barely make my deadlines." As if reminded he did, in fact, still have one, he reached behind the seat where he pulled out a stack of papers. The cars moved again.

"So, NDA, we're killing Sarah."

"What?!" Stan almost hit the Mustang in front of them but slammed on the brakes just in time. Unprepared, they were thrust forward but their seat belts locked them in place. Abigail cried out as the tablet slipped from her hands and jerked out the earbuds.

"My movie…"

"Goddamn it, Stan, I didn't mean for you to kill us!" Kyle said before helping their daughter with the tablet. Stan threw up his arms in frustration.

"Why are you killing Sarah?"

"Because she's stupid," Abigail declared loudly, "Who's Sarah?"

"I'm glad you'd support me on murder, Abby."

"If you have to kill them they probably deserve it."

Kyle poked her nose and settled back into her movie, thoughts of murder lost to catchy songs and PG story lines.

"So, why are you killing Sarah?"

"Because she's stupid," Kyle answered. "I'm just telling you ahead of time so you won't cry about it like you did with Jason."

"You left 6 plots unresolved with Jason's death."

"I couldn't help it that the network didn't renew his contract."

"Ugh, what good is being an executive producer if you can't save someone's character?"

"I am a corporate slave, Stan."

Stan groaned, leaning forward on the steering wheel. "I liked Sarah."

"HBO didn't. In fact the only thing that rated high was her breasts."

"I'll miss them most of all," Stan mourned, then yelped when Kyle slapped him with the script. "I'll forgive you if you give me a blowjob."

"What's a blowjob?"

They looked back to Abigail, whose eyes were wide and earnest and green.

"Something daddies get when their daughters aren't in the car."

Again Kyle whacked him. "The cars are moving, jackass."

He'd eventually get his blowjob.