Yes, the title is a bad pun. Sorry, not sorry :'D let me know what you think.
ToolShed screwed his eyes shut as another wave of nausea wracked him. The pounding headache was getting harder to drown out as well. Maybe it was time he made his way home. Not that he could actually call his friend's living room couch home. He halted the sigh that threatened to come out, vaguely worried that vomit would follow it. Hangovers were hell, even when they were just starting out.
A scream sounded from somewhere below, and he forced his eyes open to scan the streets nearby his current perch. Eyes locking onto an obvious assault, he clipped the end of his tape measure to the roof he was on and swung down into the alley. He landed crouched, with his right arm well out of the way, resulting in a very hero-like pose as the tape measure snapped back into place. Those things hurt like hell when they hit you.
The mugger started at the sound and turned to face him. Before he could lunge toward the hero with his knife, he was pinned to the wall with a handful of throwing screwdrivers. ToolShed bolted forward and tied the man up with duct tape before he could rip away from the wall.
"Are you okay?" ToolShed asked, bending to take the victim's hand and hoist him up. The man nodded, still shaking from the mugging as he dusted himself off. After the man thanked ToolShed profusely, the hero made sure he got home safely.
Finally letting out the sigh he'd been holding in, Stan let his shoulders slump downward. It was going on 5am. He trudged back to Kyle's apartment, struggling through the exhaustion and the building hangover, to unlock the door and slip in. After re-locking the door, he didn't bother to take off his boots. Instead, Stan stumbled over to the couch and plopped down. Kyle would give him hell for not changing first, but he was too tired to care.
Stan groaned as he opened his eyes. The piercingly loud noise of the 10 o'clock news sounded throughout the room. Sure, Kyle was a good enough friend to let Stan crash on his couch when he and Wendy were fighting, however, he was also a vindictive little shit that did not care about his best friend's hangover. "Urgh, is this revenge for not changing." He gritted out through the throbbing in his head.
Kyle smiled down at his friend from his perch on the armrest, humming vaguely in response and turning the volume up a bit more. Stan let out another groan and finally tuned into the broadcast.
"In Superhero news, we have a few would-be victims here for us today to tell you about their experience." The reporter on the screen turned to a familiar young man. He looked nervous to have been called out. "Hello, and how are you today? We have reports that you had a run-in with the hero ToolShed early this morning. Care to elaborate?" She seemed friendly enough, but the hunger for a good story was obvious in her eyes.
The man coughed and shuffled a bit, clearly uncomfortable in front of the cameras, as he responded. "Well, this morning I was walking home from my overnight shift at The Corner Store, it's about 7 blocks from my house if you take the main roads, I was pretty worn out, so I took a shortcut I know through an alley. I know it was a stupid idea, but luckily enough, ToolShed got there just in time to save me from the mugger." The man looked grateful to be done recounting the story. He clearly just wanted this reporter to leave him alone.
The woman smiled brightly, continuing despite the poor man's discomfort. "That must have been scary. Do you have any comments on ToolShed himself?" She shoved the mic forcefully back in front of the man's mouth and he flinched as if the reporter was much more terrifying than nearly being mugged.
"W-well, I was kind of impressed actually. I could tell he'd been drinking, but he still managed to apprehend the mugger pretty easily." The man replied. His smile was uneasy as it panned back to the reporter's face and she started to speculate on ToolShed's drinking habits.
Kyle turned the TV back down and let out a sigh. "Cartman's not going to be happy about this. People are going to latch onto the fact that you were drinking and, sooner or later, they'll figure out you're an alcoholic. You need to cut down, or just quit, period. Otherwise, you'll be out of the union and out on your-"
"Alright, alright. I get it. I don't need another lecture okay." Stan growled out, rubbing at his face in frustration. This was the problem with Kyle. Sure, he was supportive and caring, but he was also a self-righteous know-it-all that could easily get under someone's skin just by trying to do the right thing. He lifted his head out of his hands to meet the red-head's concerned gaze and immediately felt guilty. All Kyle ever did was try to help and he just kept pushing him away. With a sigh, Stan stood and began walking toward the bathroom. "I need a shower."
Kyle put on a playful smirk and called out, "glad you figured it out on your own. Didn't want to have to break it to you, how much you stink." Only to get an inaudible, grumbled response out of his friend. The red-head let his mouth pull down into a frown. It seemed like Stan got worse every day, and it was starting to wear on them both. He reluctantly pulled himself up to clean the mud off the couch once again. Maybe he could get Stan to find his own place so he could just get a new couch.
Stan huffed in annoyance as he washed himself quickly. It's a good thing heroes thought ahead enough to have multiple sets of their costume. He glanced at his pile of dirty clothes in disgust. Unfortunately, Kyle had a right to be angry at him for sleeping on his couch with those. Which led him to his next topic; Kyle was clearly getting sick of him. Sure, Wendy and he had been split up for over a month this time, and it probably didn't look like they were getting back together. That's what it always looked like though… right? They'd never actually been able to stay split up. It was only a matter of time before they somehow made up, or fell back in love, wasn't it?
Finishing up with a little more pep at the prospect of Wendy taking him back, he stepped out of the shower and toweled off. The pep didn't last long though. After he'd gotten dressed in his day clothes, something possessed him to look in the mirror. Unfortunately, his cynicism decided to step back into his mind at that precise moment and he was reminded that no matter how clean he was, he was still just a big piece of shit. In fact, everything was shit, and all of the sudden, he needed more alcohol.
Stan stepped out of the bathroom, glancing back and forth down the hall, before walking to Kyle's room to drop off his costume in the hamper. He hurriedly reached under his friend's bed on the way out and pulled out a half-filled bottle of whiskey, quickly taking a swig before hiding it back in the same place. He'd actually hidden it there for times like this, when he desperately needed alcohol and wasn't out and about. Considering Kyle had stopped allowing alcohol in the house in an effort to deter him from it, he figured the red-head hadn't stumbled upon it yet.
He made his way back to the front of the apartment and walked into the kitchen. Kyle was sitting at the table munching on a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats and reading the box like a weirdo. At first it didn't seem like he'd noticed Stan, then he sighed and sat back, placing the box back on the table. He waited until Stan had poured himself a bowl of the cereal, all the while leveling him with an unnervingly serious look.
"Stan," he finally spoke, "I've been thinking… that maybe it's time you found your own apartment-" He held up a hand to stop his friend from speaking as he continued. "and finally got off of my couch. Look, I love you and all. You're my best friend, but dude, I can't sit here and baby you your entire life." Stan tried to speak again, but Kyle steamrolled on. "I get that you're still upset about Wendy, but let's face it Stan, it's been a month. It's time you start taking care of yourself."
Stan was shocked to say the least, Kyle hadn't been this harsh with him in a long time. "But-" he tried to say as Kyle cut him off once again. He hadn't really known what he'd wanted to say anyways.
"One," Kyle held up a finger, "you spend all day moping and are constantly trying to drag people down with you. Two," the second finger went up, "you can't seem to follow the one rule I gave you. The only thing I ask you to do is clean yourself up when you get back instead of plopping your disgusting, dirt-covered self on my couch and tracking mud through my house, and you just can't seem to get it through your skull. Three," now the third finger, "you never contribute, at all. You spend all of your money on alcohol and don't even bother to pitch in for groceries. Do you realize how few jobs I actually get? I can't afford to keep taking care of you don't even do your own laundry." He continued on, but Stan had tuned out his rant at this point. Kyle was pissed. Kyle was kicking him out. Stan honestly didn't think he could survive without Kyle taking care of him, and putting up with his dumbass self. The prospect of it all was terrifying.
Coon's was dimly lit as per usual and, once again, Stan was the first to arrive. It was around 2pm. Kyle had forced Stan to sit on the couch with him and browse the internet for potential apartments. Stan had decided to let his cynicism have free reign so he could find a flaw with every single one of them. By 1pm Kyle had been aggravated and exhausted by the whole experience, finally telling Stan it was time for a break and that they'd pick up the search tomorrow. Stan had then gathered up a clean set of his costume and made his way to Coon's, so he could drink his worries away yet again. At least the alcohol was cheap because of the union discount.
He was about 4 drinks in, and already feeling a lot better, when Cartman showed up. The Coon strolled behind the bar and over to where Stan was. He held an air of curiosity as he leaned down, resting his folded arms over the counter. "You look like someone just told you your grandpa got hit by a bus." He stated nonchalantly. ToolShed snorted in response, choosing not to answer. Cartman was enough of a menace without giving him the satisfaction of hearing about all of Stan's problems.
The Coon hummed, then swiped Stan's phone and effortlessly unlocked it. Stan didn't want to know how Cartman knew the password. After several minutes of the brunette browsing who knows what on the internet, he handed the phone back. The top of the page had a symbol signifying that this site was encrypted, the title read "Superhero Fanfiction: Behind The Scenes". It then proceeded to list titles and summaries of apparent superhero fanfiction. ToolShed looked up at The Coon in utter confusion. "What the hell do you want me to do with this?"
The Coon simply smirked and pointed at the screen. "Just thought this might help you patch things up with Kaahl." Glancing back at the screen, Stan realized that these particular fanfictions starred himself and Kyle. His curiosity won out. If he remembered correctly, this was all written specifically by other heroes. That meant that their real names and actual habits were incorporated into it. That also meant that it actually could work if he needed real world advice. Boy was that a mistake to think.
After reading through the first fic, he quickly realized that these were not the kinds of scenarios he was looking for. Skimming several more told him the same thing. Apparently a lot of other heroes liked to think of him and Kyle having hot sex on every surface of the house. This was disturbing to say the least, as Stan had never even considered a relationship with his best friend. Although now that he'd actually read through a particularly enthralling scene involving himself, Kyle and the living room couch that he happened to sleep on regularly, he could no longer get the thought out of his head.
Stan was suddenly aware of the fact that he'd gone through approximately three more drinks and it was now nearing six o'clock. He pocketed his phone hastily as Human Kite walked in, and downed another shot to hide his nerves. He watched Kyle out of the corner of his eye as he continued to drink. The red-head hadn't said anything to him since he'd sat down, and Stan was starting to get nervous. Finally, The Coon reappeared. ToolShed watched in a drunken haze as Cartman swung his phone around excitedly, passing it to Kyle and other people at the bar, when Mysterion finally showed up. He wasn't surprised when Kenny nearly strangled Cartman to death. He was a bit surprised, however, when Mysterion actually let up and agreed to The Coon's horrible plan. He finally downed the last of his ninth drink and that was that. He was out like a light at the bar as everyone planned around him.
Kyle huffed in annoyance. Okay, so maybe he had been a bit hard on Stan. That didn't mean the asshole had to drink until he passed out and force Kyle to lug his sorry ass home. Who was he kidding, he clearly couldn't leave his pathetic best friend to fend for himself. There was no way Stan was going to survive in his own apartment. Kyle grunted as he unceremoniously dumped ToolShed on the couch, then removed his utility belt. It wasn't like Stan didn't sleep with it on every morning anyways, but Kyle couldn't imagine how uncomfortable that must be with all of those tools pressing into his back.
He was about to head to his own room and take the rest of the night off to make sure Stan didn't accidentally trip and kill himself on the way to the bathroom, when a hand reached out. Stan latched onto his shirt and pulled him down roughly. Kyle was actually amazed by the amount of strength he possessed when the man was, no doubt, numb from the alcohol. "Lemme stay Kyyyyyle." He slurred out, dragging the Human Kite into a sloppy kiss. "I'll do anything~"
Kyle was shocked. Sure, he'd entertained the idea of being with Stan before, but he'd immediately dismissed the thought of it every time, under the firm belief that the other man was straight. He forced his mind back into focus as his friend fumbled to grope him. Gently removing Stan's hands from his person, Kyle leveled the other man with determined stare. "Stanley, you're drunk. I am not going to have sex with you."
"Nngh," Stan let out as he attempted to squirm out of Kyle's hold. He quickly realized it wasn't working and gave up, staring up at his friend with half-lidded eyes. Stan's face was flushed from exertion and Kyle raked his eyes over his body as he finally calmed down. Gritting his teeth and reminding himself that Stan was clearly drunk off his ass and didn't know what he was doing, he carefully removed himself from on top of the other man and left the room. He hoped Stan didn't remember this when he sobered up.
Stan awoke with a groan, his head was throbbing worse than the day before, he was almost impressed. It was about 3am and he couldn't remember when he or how he'd gotten home. He did, however, remember propositioning his best friend through his drunken haze. Well, that was embarrassing. He struggled to sit up and grunted at the sharp pain he received from the movement. Gritting his teeth, he made his way to the bathroom. After relieving himself and washing his hands, a brilliant idea struck him. He briefly wondered if he was still drunk as he slipped silently into Kyle's bed and wrapped his arms around him.
Kyle slowly opened his eyes, groggy and disoriented. This was a normal feeling in the morning, the arms wrapped firmly around his torso were not. He jolted in shock when he realized this, trying to think back to the night before. The last thing he remembered was putting Stan to bed at around 11pm, then reading some of his book and going to bed himself. He carefully turned in the hold only to come face to face with his best friend. Kyle let out a shocked squeak and tried to bolt, but failed miserably as the arms only tightened.
He watched as Stan's eyes clenched in an attempt to stay shut, before they squinted open. He quickly closed them again as the bright sunlight streamed into them from the windows. Stan pried his eyes open again and tried to focus on Kyle's face through the pain of a bad hangover. Kyle's shock was quickly turning into something that spoke several levels of unamused. "What are you doing here?" He finally asked, noting the wince he received when he failed to lower his voice.
Stan took several moments to answer, trying to keep himself from puking his guts out. Finally, he managed to get out, "Just thought I'd keep you company?" before quickly releasing Kyle and rushing to the bathroom to remove everything he'd eaten since yesterday from his stomach. When he finished, Kyle was leaning against the doorframe adorably.
"You know, this kinda reminds me of our childhood." The red-head stated, not moving from his spot. Stan smiled, bringing up the memory in his own mind, despite his head's pained resistance. He always used to throw up when he had a crush on someone. He'd thought he'd grown out of it when it stopped happening for Wendy. Maybe it just meant he wasn't as into her as he thought.
"Go out with me?" He asked, smiling at Kyle, with his head still hovering over the toilet. When Kyle smiled and nodded, Stan nearly threw up again from the excitement. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad without Wendy, and maybe this was why Kyle had always been the one thing besides alcohol that wasn't literal shit.