WARNING. Author is full kyman trash now so hand sorta slipped and made this kyman. Oops. Enjoy anyway. :P

Deep in the quiet little mountain town of South Park, Colorado, citizens happily gathered and prepared for the coming ceremony at Stark's Pond. Shades of white, pink, and black decorated the snowy area, broken only by the old beige folded chairs set up in the center. In the church nearby, the bride worriedly continued to call her fiance and his friends. She did her best to keep her fury hidden beneath an expressionless face.

"Hey, this is Stan Marsh. I can't get to the phone right now. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you." The woman abandoned the call and tried the next.

"Hello, you've reached the number of Kyle Broflovski. Leave a message and I'll return the call. Unless you're Cartman. Fuck off, fatass." She ended that call as well, hoping the next would prove more fruitful.

"Hey! It's Kenny! If you're hearing this either I'm not able to answer or I forgot to pay the bill again. Unless you're a hot chick. I'm always paying those bills."

"Let's just start off with, 'don't leave a message.' I won't listen to it."

The woman tossed the phone onto the vanity lightly, placing her forehead in her palm. Her mother entered from the sermon room with hopeful eyes, "Anything?'

"No. None of them are answering."

"Vegas, honey," her father recounted again in his ever calm manor, "He'll be here."

"What happens if he's not here? I'm going to be made the fool!" Wendy relayed in irritation. Her attention snapped to her ringing cell phone. She swiftly seized it and answered harshly, "Where the hell are you? Where's Stan?"

Several hundred miles west, in the deserts of Nevada, a beaten convertible rested on the side of the road. Three men sat around it with various expressions of despair. A fourth man stood on the other side of the road, a phone to his ear. He swallowed in defeat as he answered, "Wendy? We fucked up."

"The hell do you mean you 'fucked up'?" the woman on the other end hissed.

The man ran his dirty fingers through his greasy blonde hair, tugging on it a little as he stuttered, "None of us remember. We've searched everywhere and... We lost Stan."

They shared a few seconds of deathly silence before Wendy growled into the phone, "Kenny. What are you telling me?"

Kenny stared up at the sun above, wishing it would cast him aflame, "We're not going to make the wedding."

Two Days Earlier…

Stan Marsh strolled into the South Park auto mechanic shop, hands in his coat pockets. His face lit up once he spotted the blaze orange sweater of a very good friend. The man leaned against a wall decorated with old rusty tools as he waited for the blond to finish whatever work he was doing underneath an old Dodge.

About five minutes passed before Kenny retreated from beneath the truck to greet his friend, "Hey, dude! Glad you came!"

"You said you had something to show me," Stan replied, "I assumed it was the hooker you kept promising you'd talk Kyle into getting for the bachelor party."

Kenny chuckled, wiping oil off his hands with an equally oily towel, "Nah, I got something better. C'mon."

Stan followed Kenny out the back, behind the shop. Right outside the door sat a sky blue Ford Fairlane 500 Skyliner. Stan oggled the car, circling it to fully admire it's antiquity while Kenny smirked excitedly, arms crossed with satisfaction.

"We're taking this baby to Vegas."

Stan froze from examining the seats and glanced up at Kenny, "You're kidding."

"Nope."

"How the hell did you get a hold of a 500 Skyliner?"

"Basically by rebuilding it," Kenny answered, joining the other to revel in the gorgeous interior, "I found most of it in the junkyard: beaten, rusted, and half pulled apart. Cleaned it up, replaced some things, made a shit ton of deals, eventually got to where it is now." Kenny slapped his hand against Stan's shoulder affectionately, "Happy wedding, Stan."

"No fucking way," Stan backed a few steps in shock, his lips spreading into the widest grin, "You made this for me?"

"Well, more for the inevitable Vegas bachelor party, but yeah… my wedding gift to you and Wendy."

"Dude," the man could barely contain the excitement coursing through his veins, "You are amazing. Thanks, dude." Stan brought Kenny into an embrace before racing to the driver's seat. "Race you to the school."

"Dude! I gotta change and clean up!" Kenny shouted as Stan started the car.

Stan smirked mischieviously, "Better hurry then."

On the other end of town, one big boned teacher ranted on about some geography lesson to students he had sent to sleep long ago.

"Who can tell me in what ocean Easter Island resides in?" An instant after the teacher asked the question, the last bell of the day rang, saving the students from raising bored hands. "Ay! Don't forget to hand in your permission slips and fees for the planetarium field trip as you leave!" Several of the remaining students in the room approached him with slips and cash, each one thanked for their contribution. As soon as the last backpack disappeared into the hall, Cartman dug into his cabinet, pulling out several envelopes filled with cash. He shoved them all into his side bag and strode swiftly out the room.

Outside, Stan and Kenny waited in the convertible, watching the children boarding the school bus or walking home.

Kenny, head leaning back lazily, turned to face the other man, "You gonna have kids?"

Stan shrugged, "I don't know. Never really thought about it."

"Huh."

Just then, the car tilted heavily as Cartman jumped into the back seat. "Damn, who'd you lift this hunk of metal off of?" he asked, sounding fairly impressed.

Kenny glanced back at the heavy man, "It's my wedding gift to Stan and Wendy."

Cartman stared at him a second before laughing, "Heh, ass kisser."

"Fuck you, asshole," Kenny responded half heartedly.

"Don't forget your nose hair clippers!"

Kyle opened his bathroom cabinet and retrieved the clippers, "Nose hair clippers!"

"And actually use it this time! I can totally tell when you don't. You know I hate seeing your disgusting nose hairs."

"Using of the clippers," he responded, zipping up his suitcase.

"And don't forget to call me like when you went to that convention or whatever it was. I waited for three and a half hours before you called. I left thirteen messages."

"It was a meeting for internships at Saint Judes Hospital, I was late and the tour alone was two hours long," Kyle defended.

Yvette rose an eyebrow at him as she took a sip of her tea.

Kyle fidgeted under her icy gaze, "Uh, you're right. I'll be sure to call you when we get there." Satisfied, his girlfriend turned on her heels to seat herself on the couch. Kyle moved to sit beside her, reaching in for an embrace and kiss, but rejected in place of tea. "What's wrong?"

"I don't think this trip is worth it."

"It's my best friends' bachelor party. I can't miss this."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to leave two days before the wedding?" Yvette questioned, her eyes on her teacup. Kyle was secretly glad she chose to stare at the drink instead of him. Her eyes were intimidating when she was upset.

Kyle placed his hand on her knee in comfort, only for her eyes to dig daggers into it as he spoke, "It's just a little fun and relaxation before the big day. And it's just a ski resort. Nothing big."

Yvette placed her tea on the coffee table and turned to Kyle, her eyes much softer, to his relief. "I know, I just don't like it when you're out of my sight. I can't keep my eye on you and make sure you don't get into trouble," she said, her lip protruding in a slight pout.

"I won't get into trouble. I promise," Kyle took her hands into his to convey his intent.

Yvette sighed, "I know you won't on your own. It's your friends I'm worried about."

"They won't get into trouble either. We're all adults. Mature, responsible adults."

"Paging Doctor Jew!" Kyle's eyes closed irritably at the long overused insult. "Doctor Jew!"

Kyle rose to his feet as he spoke, "I should go."

"Yeah, probably a good idea, Doctor Jew," Yvette added.

Kyle nodded, ignoring the comment in favor of leaning down to give his girlfriend a goodbye kiss. Again, he was rejected in favor of tea.

He grabbed his suitcase and was out the door in seconds.

Once on the highway, the men felt free to relax and begin enjoying the venture. Well, relax as much as one could with Kyle and Cartman arguing pathetically in the back seat.

"Dude, do they realize what they sound like to everyone else?" Kenny asked Stan as the other drove.

"Pft, hell if I know. I stay out of it. They'll stop eventually."

Kenny scoffed at the claim, glancing back to see the two in each other's faces, basically sharing spit as they shouted at one another. Kyle's lightly freckled cheeks blushed harder under his aggravated expression as Cartman's smirk widened and his head tilted ever closer, just enough to avoid touching. However, Stan was right that they would stop eventually and the car was left in silence as the wind blew threw their hair, hats abandoned with the cold.

"Hey Kenny, the right clear?"

"Yep," he responded without looking.

The car drifted to the right to change lanes when a truck horn blared through the air. Stan sharply brought the car back to the left, almost hitting another car in that lane.

Kenny burst into hysterical laughter, Cartman joining him once they were safe.

"That was hilarious!"

"That was fucking not hilarious!" Stan spat back.

Kyle's eyes remained wide with the adrenaline, "Dude, we almost just died!"

"You should've seen your face!" Kenny sputtered out between laughs.

"That was awesome, Kenny," Cartman praised.

Stan shook his head in disbelief, "That wasn't awesome. That was not awesome."

Not long after, the car required a fresh tank of gas. Stan pulled the car into a gas station and up to a pump. Once full, the other men joined him inside to stock up on snacks and booze. Kyle went to the back of the store to update Yvette on his whereabouts. When he finished he grabbed a bottle of water for himself and returned to his friends at the check out counter.

"Hey, all good with Yvette?" Stan asked in his naturally friendly way.

"Yep. Told her we were an hour away from the ski resort."

Cartman turned dramatically towards Kyle, "Don't you think after three years it's a bit weird to have to lie to your girlfriend about going to Vegas?"

Kyle shrugged lightly, "Maybe, yeah, but it's not worth the backlash. Trust me."

Cartman sniffed in thought, "So you can't go to Vegas, but she's able to fuck a pilot on a commercial plane?"

"Cartman," Stan warned.

Kyle took a threatening step towards his taller friend, "First of all, it was as steward, not a pilot, and second, she was drugged. He's just lucky she didn't press charges."

"And you believe that?" Cartman responded before shoving a handful of Cheesy Poofs in his mouth.

"Yeah, I do. She was very distressed about it."

"Forty eight, seventy four," the cashier announced with an annoyed expression.

"Forty eight, seventy four, Kyle," Cartman relayed as he carried his snacks and soda out the store. Kyle sneered at him before digging his wallet out.

As the sun hid behind the desert horizon, the lights of Las Vegas lit up the sky for miles. The Skyliner rolled down the streets, it's passengers marveling the constant demands for their attention. Stan pulled the convertible up to the front doors of the Tropicana, handing the keys off to a valet and instructing him to make sure it remains in the same condition it was given in. The other men gathered their bags out of the trunk to head inside; Kenny temporarily distracted by a pair of women passing by with a sultry greeting.

The four approached the front desk with excited grins as the lady behind the desk greeted them formally, "Welcome to the Tropicana. Are you checking in?"

Kyle smacked Kenny in the back of the head before the blond could give his coy smile, "Yes, we have a reservation under Doctor Broflovski." Cartman suppressed a chuckle as Kenny rubbed his head, looking away with a very immature pout.

"Alright, one moment."

Cartman pushed between Kyle and Stan, shoving them apart, "Doctor Broflovski? You still have three months of the semester left. Don't get all fancy on us, Kyle."

The redhead merely shrugged, grinning confidently at the counter woman, "Three months away from finishing medical school. Can't say I haven't earned it."

"Trust me, he hasn't," Cartman spat, turning back to pick up his bags. Kyle's face already began to beat red at the overweight man's comment.

The desk lady paused her typing and clicking, "I've got you in a two bedroom suite on the fifth floor."

"What!?" Kenny popped back in, "No way, I'm not sharing beds with the fat asshole!"

"Ay! I'm not fat!"

"Who said you were sharing beds with Cartman?" Stan asked.

Kenny rose an eyebrow at the seemingly oblivious man, "You and Kyle. The best of friends since pre-school. Don't tell me you were thinking of sharing a bed with anyone else on this trip?"

Stan rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. Kyle sighed heavily before turning to his slightly taller friend, "Kenny, we're not even going to be in the room long enough for it to matter-"

"Bullshit!" Kenny interrupted, "You'd actually have room to sleep. What do I get? Cartman, who hogs the bed like a chick."

"Oh, you are so sleeping on the couch!"

"Shut up, Cartman," the blond blinked distractedly at the desk clerk, "Make it a villa. Doctor-man here will take care of it."

"No no no," Kyle held his hands up to block any interruptions, "I can't pay that much. Yvette checks my balances. If I go too far over she's going to suspect more than she already does."

"What? That you're really dating her because you feel like no one else wants you?"

Kyle's hands slammed on the desk before he spun on his toes to face his oppressor, "I am so fucking tired of you, Cartman!" The man just smirked, amused at the outbursts his smaller friend directed at him.

Stan and Kenny exchanged a tired look, ignoring the other two. "We can split the cost."

"No way, man, this is your bachelor party," Kenny refused, "Kyle's your best man. He's obligated to pay it. Upgrade to a villa, we'll take care of the bill when we check out." The clerk nodded, glancing worriedly at the redhead and brunet.

After the suite was set up, Stan and Kenny pulled the arguing duo up to their assigned room, both pacified by the time they reached their floor. Stan was given the honor of stepping into the villa first. He walked in slowly, his jaw agape as he took in the ever expensive decor.

"This place is huge! You guys are the best."

"So long as you like it. That's what matters," Kyle responded. He sent a glare of disapproval towards Kenny who merely shrugged before plopping onto a cushioned chair. "Stan, Cartman, pick a room and change. Kenny, pick a room and don't invite a stripper."

"Hey! I have morals!"

"Really? Since when?" the redhead teased with a forgiving grin.

"Uhh...yeah there's a nice little fountain display in the lobby," Kyle jumped as his room door pushed open to allow Cartman and Stan in the room. Both men visibly questioned his half dressed state. Kyle merely pointed to the phone, rolling his eyes, "Oh yeah, yeah. Lots of snow. It's snowing right now actually. Yeah, it's atmospheric." Stan signaled his best friend to wrap up his call. "Okay, well I gotta go. We're going to try out the ski runs. Yep. Okay, I love you. Bye!"

"You seriously need to dump her ass, Kyle," Cartman proposed in his rarely heard serious tone, "She's no good for you."

"No can do, Cartman. Where's Kenny?" Kyle asked with a bit of pep.

"Downstairs," Stan answered, "Said he wanted to get something from the gift shop."

Kyle twiddled his fingers for a second before turning and grabbing something off the nightstand. He opened it and laid the satin box between his fingers.

Stan reached forward to get a better view, "Damn, Kyle. That rock is huge."

Cartman, on the other hand, looked about to bolt, "That's not what I think it is, is it?"

"I'm going to ask Yvette to marry me," Kyle explained, "I think it's time."

"Uh, no Kyle, it's not time."

"That's great, Kyle," Stan congratulated, giving the heavy man a death glare from the corner of his eye, "Where'd you get the ring?"

Kyle hopped on one leg as he pulled the other through his pants, "It was my grandma's. You know, the one that died when we were kids."

Cartman gagged, "Ew, it's a Jew ring." Kyle took the ring back and placed it on the nightstand again before pulling on a button up shirt. "Besides she doesn't care for you any more than you care for her. Remember the pilot?"

"Hey," Stan defended as Kyle's face began to beat, "It was a steward. You know that."

Cartman glared back at Stan for a few seconds before looking back at Kyle, "You're in denial. You don't want her, Kyle. You need to find someone who actually cares."

"Oh, like you?" Kyle spat back.

Their eyes met for a split second. Cartman shoved his hands in his pockets and looked the other way, "No." Stan pat his hand on Kyle's back in congratulations, jolting the red head back to his clothing.

At that moment, Kenny moon-walked into the room, looking no different than he had before. "Party time!" he shouted happily before realizing the tense air. "Damn, tough crowd."

Cartman slid past Kenny out the room, "C'mon! I wanna get the hippie drunk off his ass!"

"We shouldn't be up here, guys."

"Shut the hell up, Jew, and enjoy the damn night."

"For once, I have to agree. C'mon Stan, right up here." Kenny guided his friends up and onto the roof. He propped the door open with a cinder block before coaxing the others up.

"Oh wow…" Stan murmured as he looked out over the city. The lights seemed so far away down by the streets. The sky seemed even more illuminated from their height.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Kenny grinned as the others admired the view. He backed away to a small platform where he had previously placed four glasses and a bottle of strong moonshine he'd ripped off the mountain men outside their hometown. He passed the glasses around and filled them each a shot. He held his glass up in a toast, "To tonight, and let it be a night we never say we remember, but never truly forget." The four clinked glasses and downed the first shot. Kenny shook his head, loving the searing tickle against his throat. Cartman muttered curses, Stan let out a simple, "Shit," while Kyle bent over, coughing at the shock of the sting.