The room stank of blood, but Kyle was too proud to care. As he strode on stage, with Cartman following timidly behind, he took in the scene with a smug smirk on his face. Used bullets and chunks of blown brain and bone dirtied the floor, which was damp with the blood of the hundreds of men whose dead eyes bulged unblinking, unseeing, their lifeless bodies slumped in piles down the stairs and hanging off the backs of chairs they'd fallen on. It was success. It was victory. It was glorious.

"Take a look, Fatass!" Kyle invited with his hands on his hips as they come to a halt in the centre of the stage. "I beat you!" he declared triumphantly, and peered across to gauge the reaction of his rival.

Cartman was gaping, eyebrows raised, as he surveyed the bodies in shock, clutching his hat in front of his chest. He seemed so confused, so disbelieving, and it made Kyle smile wider. How could anyone have foiled his flawless plan? Cartman was surely wondering that. He really thought he was such a cunning genius. He had forgotten that Kyle was not to be underestimated. And this cold, hard reminder of Kyle's resourcefulness and capabilities had obviously left Cartman literally speechless.

No words were forthcoming from him, but Kyle wanted his outburst. Nothing would be quite as validating, would reaffirm his victory quite as well, as Cartman absolutely losing it, screeching a defeated tirade of frustrated slurs right in his face, simply because there was nothing else that Cartman could do other than that. The moment that Cartman turned to him with anger and hatred in his eyes, would be the moment that the fatass realised his defeat, and inadvertently admitted Kyle's success. It would be bliss.

"You aren't going on Dateline," Kyle continued, firmly rubbing salt in the already gaping wound, trying to encourage Cartman's explosive eruption to reach boiling point already so that his admitted loss – and, consequently, Kyle's admitted win along with it – would come faster. "What have you got to say now?"

His smirk never ceasing, Kyle looked ahead, surveying the devastation before them, as he waited for his rival's response to it. He waited for Cartman to damn him to hell, to demand to know how he could have bested him, to call him dirty and sneaky and swear revenge. He was prepared for all of it…

He wasn't prepared for the silence. A short, shocked silence was expected at first, of course, but surely Cartman was over that stage of grief by now? Surely anger should have taken its place already? His temper was too short. Yet, nothing. Weird…

Kyle glanced across at Cartman again, surprised to see that there was no sign of any rage in his expression, present or building. Instead, his mouth was still agape, and when he looked straight at Kyle, he could see that his eyes were… glistening? What the hell was up with that? He looked like he was about to cry…

Kyle's smirk faltered slightly.

…Had he… Had he gone too far?

He'd wanted to beat Cartman, sure, but not… not absolutely pulverize his spirit. He hadn't wanted to hurt him; he'd just wanted to bring him down a couple pegs. He hadn't wanted this. Not this. His gut twisted uncomfortably at the sickening shame he felt crawling up his spine. And what the fuck was up with that? Why did it even matter if Cartman was actually hurt? Why did it always fucking matter?

Lost in his own doubts, Kyle's guard was lowered, so he wasn't paying attention when Cartman sprung forward out of nowhere, and was unable to dodge when Cartman suddenly jumped on him.

He's attacking me, was Kyle's first thought as he felt the other boy's weight bearing down on him, he's really that upset that he's attacking me. But he soon realised that Cartman wasn't hurting him, although the way in which Kyle was nearly bent over backwards, with his arms trapped tight at his sides, wasn't exactly comfortable either. No, it was just pressure and warmth and-…

Was Cartman hugging him?

Kyle didn't want to believe it, but he was pretty sure then, once he'd got over the shock, that that was exactly what it was. Cartman was squeezing him in an immobilising hug, his arms constricting his rigid body and his head tucked into Kyle's shoulder. Their cheeks were pressed together, and Kyle's brow knitted as he could feel it – warm and wet – when a single tear trickled down Cartman's cheek, and he released a shuddering breath…

What the fuck was happening?

"Oh, thank you!" Cartman finally spoke – shouted, in fact, right in Kyle's ear – elated and relieved, the absolute antithesis of what Kyle had been hoping for. "Thank you, Kyle!"

Kyle stopped for a second, frantically searching his mind for answers. Why this? Where had he gone wrong? Why was Cartman… happy? He wasn't supposed to be happy, he'd-… He'd been foiled. He'd been beaten. He'd been defeated. So why wasn't he sounding like it? Why hasn't he acting like it? Why was he hugging his competitor? Why was he thanking him? None of it made sense.

"…What?"

"I asked God to send someone to help me!" Cartman continued spewing more nonsense garbage, creating more confusion, adding more questions instead of answering the ones already piling up in Kyle's head. "And you came, Kyle! I love you, man!"

"No, I-I beat you!" Kyle insisted, because it was all wrong, Cartman had got it all wrong. He hadn't helped Cartman, he'd sabotaged him! Or had he? Kyle was doubting himself now. Was it he who had underestimated Cartman? Was this all just another part of Cartman's plan? Had he been deceived by the fatass again? But… No. No, Kyle knew his opponent. He had planned for and anticipated everything perfectly. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Gritting his teeth, Kyle took advantage of the limited movement he had in that position to squirm and struggle, managing to free his elbows so that he then had the leverage to push his hands against Cartman's chest and force him away. Cartman let go easily, and stepped back to allow the aggravated boy the space he needed to raise his shoulders and ball his fists. He seemed to be oblivious to Kyle's irritation, however, smiling stupidly at him as though in a daze. The sparkle in his glistening eyes reflected warmth and adoration, dare he say it, as he gazed upon Kyle. He was looking at Kyle as though he were the world. He even seemed to have developed a strange gravitational pull towards the boy, as he couldn't keep away for long. He stepped toward him again, absorbing the space between them.

"You totally saved my ass, Kyle."

Simultaneously so fast and yet as if in slow motion, Cartman leaned in. He never had learned to respect personal boundaries, especially when he was overexcited. Kyle figured Cartman would stop just when their noses near-touched, and he would be subjected to an intense close-up of those big, brown eyes as Cartman gushed right in his face. It was nothing he wasn't used to. Although, Kyle noticed that as his face neared, Cartman was in fact closing his eyes, wincing them shut. Odd. He wasn't used to that. And his pudgy hands were reaching out for him, coming to cup his cheeks. And his mouth wasn't opening wider to spew more frenzied nonsense like Kyle assumed. Instead it was closing. It was puckering. It was… suddenly on his mouth.

Their mouths were touching.

Cartman was kissing him.

Cartman was kissing him.

"Hnn?!" The noise Kyle made was muffled between their mouths, and did nothing to discourage Cartman from continuing to kiss him. The clumsy tips of their noses were squashing each other, and Kyle felt all lucidity being squashed out of his brain.

Kyle should have pushed Cartman, but the shock was doing things to his system, sabotaging his senses. He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to, and he really wanted to, because what the fuck was this? He didn't know, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He could only stand there stiffly, his hands paused pathetically on Cartman's chest, his lips unresponsive. His wide eyes flitted restlessly beneath his brows which were raised in surprise, studying Cartman's too-close face, trying to take it all in, trying to understand.

Why this? Kyle kicked himself for not seeing it coming. Why hadn't he seen it coming? It seemed obvious, now that he looked back, that Cartman had been about to kiss him. Why hadn't he stopped him?! He guessed that, in his defence, his brain had been too preoccupied with processing everything that had happened at that point, it hadn't been able to register anything else going on around him. It had been whirring wildly, trying to figure out what the fuck Cartman had meant. Since when had Kyle saved him? And he supposed that he also hadn't seen it coming because he just wasn't able to believe that Cartman would have ever done something like that to him. He had failed to consider it as a possibility, and so there they were.

But still, why? Why should he have had to consider this as a possibility? Why was Cartman doing something so unexpected, so inexplicable, so inappropriate for the situation they were in? Why was Cartman kissing him? And why – God, why – why did he find himself focusing on how soft Cartman's lips were, how warm Cartman's breath tickling his upper lip was, how long Cartman's eyelashes were, fluttering soundly as he kissed him?

Why was his heart pounding?

After what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only a few short seconds, Cartman finally pulled back, releasing Kyle's lips with a wet smack. Even then, Kyle couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. He stayed tensed, his hands still raised to push away a chest that wasn't there anymore. It was as though Cartman had paralyzed him with his touch. Again, though, the boy seemed immune to Kyle's confusion and discomfort, grinning maniacally at him as he let go of Kyle at last.

"You must… really care about me," he murmured softly as he gazed upon Kyle with a newfound tenderness. Kyle opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. A protesting squeak died at the back of his throat. Why did his vocal cords have to seize up like that when he had so much to say? He wanted to scream in Cartman's face. Possibly puke in it for good measure, too. But not before he punched him in it first.

Before Kyle could convince his disobliging body to bend to such wishes, Cartman's hands fell from Kyle's flushed face and occupied themselves with putting his hat back on his head. "See you, Kyle! I gotta get to a psychiatrist and learn to control what I say!"

Kyle managed to turn himself, so that he could watch as Cartman darted offstage and up the stairs towards the exit, dodging and dancing over the dead bodies that laid there on his way. It was as if he hadn't a care in the world. It was as if he'd transferred all his cares over to Kyle with the touch of their lips.

"I got a golden ticket~!" he sang merrily as he went, topping it off with a twirl. He paused in his pirouette to throw a hand out to Kyle, still stunned on the stage, and exclaim, "Thanks to Kyle!" before continuing his spontaneous song, "I got a golden twinkle in my eye~!"

As soon as Cartman had left the room, it was like the paralyzing spell he had cast on Kyle was lifted. His body became loose: his shoulders sagging, his arms falling limp at his sides, and his knees buckling. His mouth hung open, but still no sound come out. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think to say anything. He couldn't even conceive one singular, coherent thought. His mind had melted into mush, having overheated from that strange, unbelievable turn of events.

…What the fuck just happened?

Seconds passed, and Kyle managed to shut his mouth. He then pressed his gloved fingers to his lips, still rosy and warm from the kiss, and got stung with the cold, creeping feeling that maybe he hadn't won after all.

Author's Notes: This is my contribution to Day Four of Kyman Week: Kyman Moment! Part of the prompt allowed you to "reinvent" one of your favourite Kyman moments, and I had talked with shortstackedcheesecake not long ago about what we think would have happened if Kyle hadn't realised that Cartman had been about to kiss him (I think it's pretty widely agreed that that's what he was going to do, it sure as hell looked like it) in Le Petit Tourette. Well the stars have aligned, it seems, and Kyman Week has given me the opportunity to entertain that scenario with fanfiction! I don't know if it's to anyone else's liking, but I had fun anyway. Why do I always get the most joy out of tormenting poor Kyle in my fics? Haha!
Thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!