How Pudding Can Make Your Day~
You see, Stan is sensitive. And he can't handle strong emotions. Stan gets dumped and he lies in his bed for a week. People are hurt, sick, dying, misinformed and he always hopes that someone will go out there to solve the problem.
Kyle Broflovski seems to be the same way. It's only how he handles it that's different. The redhead has causes. Something he gained from his mother at a very young age. When something upsets Kyle, he gets off his ass and does something about it. He's the person who goes out and solves Stan's problems.
Stan would much rather lie in bed while listening to sad music.
Because Kenny died. Again.
It's been a while, though, that he's been gone. Stan's about ready to condemn himself to the bedroom and Kyle's face is getting all red like it always does when he's bothered. The problem is, though, Stan doesn't want to go to the media, he doesn't want to build a ladder to heaven, he doesn't want to research ways to bring the hooded boy back. He honestly, truly, just wants to wallow. Stan wants to cry.
Kyle doesn't cry about these things and he doesn't put up with Stan doing it either.
In a moment of complete insanity, Stan tells Cartman all of this. Cartman's a dick, so, of course, he scoffs, calls Stan a fag, and then tells him to find some other depressed pussy to cry with. As the fat kid lumbers away, Stan hears him mumble something about "Clyde" and "crying over every fucking little thing".
Stan spends lunch the next day with Clyde just to piss Cartman off. But also because, well, it's worth a shot, right? They talk about pudding cups and whether it's better to swirl the flavors together or to eat it as it comes.
Right in the middle of this conversation, Clyde looked up from his pudding. "That kid Kenny dies a lot. I'd be so messed up right now if I was his friend." The brown haired kid takes a bite of his desert and stares a Stan a second longer than normal. "You look kinda messed up."
The other boy feels oddly liberated at this other lunch table, with a swirled pudding cup in his grasp. Clyde doesn't expect any certain emotion from him; he won't make him embark on some huge endeavor or anything like that. He might call him a pussy, but definitely less than Cartman would. Stan nods. "Yeah, kinda, I guess."
Clyde nods back. "That's OK, man." A questioning look. "It's obviously better to eat it in order."
A/N: I think deviantart is at blame for whatever this is. But, I adore Clyde with all my being and, hypothetically, he and Stan could work...for sure not canon, but still. And a title fail. The sad thing is that I've gotten better at titles.
Anyway, this marks the fact that I might stick around South Park for a while, I've gotten over the two-fic-hump. Three South Park fics! WOOO!