Author's Note: Seriously, I need to stop posting stories and focus on finishing the ones I have up at the moment. Oh well, I figured one more won't hurt. This will be a 16 chapter story, and I hope you guys like it! I'll have a one or two-shot focusing on just Clyle to go along with this story when it's finished :)

Summary: Craig never imagined that he'd someday find himself sitting around an empty apartment, waiting for his MIA recovering alcoholic boyfriend to walk through the front door while his best friend searched aimlessly for some stupid lamp to celebrate a holiday that didn't even matter to them.

Pairings: Craig/Stan - Clyde/Kyle - Kenny/Bebe - Craig/Bebe (brief)

Clyde used to have a thing for me.

I'm not sure when it started, but I didn't like it at all for a few reasons, the main one being that he was my best friend. The fact that he was clingy and emotional didn't exactly work to his advantage either. If I were to go down that route with him, I could no longer crack fat jokes at his expense and would be obligated to hold him until he was done whining about whatever went wrong at that given moment.

I could compare dating him to the likes of owning an Apple product; there would always be something new coming out, and you'd have the option to either upgrade or stick with what you've invested so much time and money into. In this case, "something new" would be someone else, "upgrading" would be ditching Clyde, and "time and money" would roughly translate to t-shirts covered in tears and snot from his big baby cry fests, bandages, and whatever part of my paycheck would end up going towards Taco Bell.

This is why most Mac users are such dedicated people; they don't want to be, but after shelling out $3,500 for a stupid laptop that does the same exact shit a $500 one running Windows would, you can bet your ass they're going to use that thing until it's got permanent finger indentations in the keypad so deep that the motherboard takes a hit with each strike, or it at least implodes. And when that happens, they'll scramble what money they have left together and get it fixed, because Jesus Christ, $3,500 for a laptop is a lot of money and they've been through hell and back with that hunk of aluminum, so it's not like they can just throw it out.

I don't think I need to point out what would be what in a relationship with Clyde here.

Long story short, nothing ever happened between Clyde and I. Sometime back in the beginning of our Junior year, I guess he managed to get over his stupid crush on me and Kyle Broflovski became his new target. Why? I have no fucking clue, but I wasn't going to argue since it meant things were back to normal between us.

Well, sort of.

"I can't find the menorah," Clyde sticks his head in the room. "I swear I had it in the garage with the rest of the holiday stuff, but it's not there!"

"So."

Clyde gives me a look of bewilderment. "How are we supposed to celebrate Hanukkah without a menorah!"

I drop the book I'd been reading a little to meet his gaze. "Nobody here is Jewish, so what's the point of celebrating a holiday that's not important to us?" I pause for a second before thoughtfully adding in, "Besides Kyle, but he's not even religious anymore."

"You don't understand—it is important, dude!" Clyde whisper-shouts. I'm not sure why since there's nobody in the apartment besides me and him; Kyle is working a late shift while Stan is—actually, I'm not sure where Stan is. "Is Kenny home?"

I reach over for my phone and check to see if I had any missed calls or texts from Stan, but I find nothing. There's a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's almost midnight and I haven't heard a single thing from him in over six hours, and it's not like he's at work since he was laid off a week ago for refusing to follow protocol and assist in putting down someone's sick pet at the vet's office where he worked as a veterinary technician. Instead, he proceeded to have a mental breakdown and I was required to come and scoop him up, take him home, and convince him not to break into the clinic after hours to set the animals left overnight there free.

Part of me thinks he's just making good on those promises, but it's still gut wrenching to think of all the other possible things he could be out there doing. Not that I care, but when it's late on a Friday night and every single one of your calls or texts have gone unanswered, you tend to get a little worried, especially when your boyfriend is a recovering alcoholic and the closest bar is just two streets over.

"Probably. If he's not home though, Bebe's there. Why?"

"Bebe doesn't use the garage as much as Kenny does, so I don't think she'd know about the menorah. I'll be right back," he explains before dipping out of the room. I can hear his footsteps getting quieter as he advances for what I assume is the front door so that he can chat with our neighbors.

I roll my eyes and return back to my book.

The double (and often triple) dates are still taking some time getting used to even after three years, and I'm still not sure what the point of having a menorah is during the holidays, but I guess it's become some sort of unwritten law that the whole apartment celebrates Hanukkah. What amuses me is the fact that Clyde's the one who's really into it and not Kyle; in fact, I'm pretty sure all of those Jewish history books in the study belong to Clyde. I don't remember exactly what our last conversation entailed, but I think it was something about Clyde asking me if he'd have to chop his dick off in order to convert to Judaism so he could marry Kyle. I simply reminded him that he was the one who'd taken up wearing a yarmulke as part of his everyday attire (until Kyle made him throw it away since he hated those things) so he should know. Like I said earlier, though; Kyle isn't even religious anymore, and I know that doesn't stop him from being ethnically Jewish, but why does it matter to Clyde so much?

Besides that, there are lot of nights spent wide awake since Stan makes almost no sound or movement whatsoever in his sleep and that scares the shit out of me. I doubt I'll ever get completely used to that. I mean, there are times when he's so quiet that I'm actually worried he's dead; especially nights where he comes home wasted out of his mind and he all but pukes on me. Thankfully it doesn't happen often, and arguments ensue the next morning, but he's gotten a lot better with his addiction and I'm proud of him. Soon enough, he'll be breaking the bottle for good and I'll have to uphold my promise of taking him to the San Diego Zoo.

I sigh.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm a metaphorical Mac user.

Maybe I should explain how I've managed to find myself in a relationship with the last person on Earth I ever thought I'd be in one with, why I'm sharing an apartment with Clyde, Kyle, and Stan, and a joint garage with my neighbors that happen to be Bebe Stevens and Kenneth McCormick, along with exactly why Clyde's freaking out over some stupid lamp more so than usual for an irrelevant holiday.

I'll start from the beginning.

There wasn't a lot to do in South Park. Throwing rocks at cars lost its spark once I left middle school, and the occasional use of drugs and alcohol quickly became its replacement.

Clyde never was one for drinking or smoking but he still hung around, flipping through dirty magazines and keeping me company while I did so. Tweek tried smoking, but he ended up inhaling too much at a time which never turned out good, plus he was always busy at his parent's shop. Token sort of drifted from the group around freshman year to hang out with more sophisticated people or whatever. It sucked having him bail on us, but oh well.

Because of this, it was usually just Clyde and I hanging out, which was fine and dandy since we were best friends after all. He might have constantly irritated the fuck out of me with his oblivious stupidity, but we were bros.

When he had to go and drop that 'I-Like-You' bomb on me though, I didn't have a single person to chill with for a while...

"That game sucked," Kenny mused from the ratty old blue couch. He tossed the magazine he currently had in hand onto the coffee table and began to sift through the pile of them for a new one. "Didn't even have any cheerleaders."

...which was how I ended up becoming friends with Kenny McCormick.

"There aren't any cheerleaders in baseball, dumbass." I took a seat in the foldout lawn chair across from him.

He shrugged. "Should be. Hey, you got any straight mags? I'm cool with all the dicks and stuff, but I'm craving something different."

"Figured you were 'cool' with dicks since you like mine so much," I sneered. On top of our forcibly-forged friendship over drugs, bisexuality, and friends who were too caught up in their own lives to hang out, we were also fuck buddies. "Under the couch there should be a few."

Kenny grunted in response and blindly fished beneath the couch until he found what he was looking for. Slyly smiling as he eyed the cover, he flipped it open and hummed contentedly. "So why didn't you wait for Clyde?"

"I guess Kyle promised him Taco Bell or something after the game, so what would be the point?" Ever since they'd started going out, Clyde had been so far up Kyle's ass that I often wondered if he ever thought about me anymore. "That asshole stole my best friend."

"Dude, Kyle is not an asshole," Kenny defended his friend while turning a page. "But I'm sure you could have went with them. I doubt either of them would have minded, especially Clyde; he friggin' misses you, man. Hell, I could have even came with. I'm fucking starving."

I heard a door slam above me and the sound of heavy footsteps. Dad was home.

"How do you know he misses me?" I asked half-heartedly while pulling out a tin lunchbox from beneath the coffee table. I popped the lid and thumbed through the small baggies of weed and pipes; I had accumulated quite the collection over time.

Kenny shrugged. "Whenever I'm around them, he talks about you a lot with Stan."

This grabbed my interest. "Stan?"

"Yup. He's got a total boner for you, I guess." He turned another page and I saw his brows raise in interest at the busty blonde on the glossy paper. "Like I was saying though; Clyde misses you a fuck ton and mentions you a lot, and since Stan has a huge man crush on you or something, he totally jumps at the chance to talk about you."

I laughed and packed a bowl, palming my jean pockets for a lighter. "You're fucking with me."

"Serious as a heart attack. Otherwise, why the hell would we be hanging out so much?" Kenny glanced over at me for a second. I didn't understand what he was talking about since I wasn't fully aware of the extent of Stan's interest in me until he clarified with, "Clyde and Kyle getting together screwed with the group dynamic a little, but I could have easily still hung out with Stan... unfortunately, Stan is completely content with following those two around and gushing over you with Clyde whenever he can. I tried hanging out with Cartman more at first, but he's a sadistic asshole." He sat up and leaned over to hold a hand out expectantly for the pipe I had just lit. Rolling my eyes, I gave it to him and let him have the first hit. "I'm surprised Clyde never mentioned anything about Stan to you before."

I shrugged and snatched the pipe back once he was finished and took a hit myself. If Kenny was telling the truth, then Clyde never told me because either (a) he still had a thing for me and didn't want Stan to get in the way, or (b) he was completely oblivious and had no idea that Stan was into me. Since I knew for a fact that Clyde had been over me for a solid year at the time, it had to be the second reason.

In reality, it turned out that it was neither of these reasons and was something entirely different that I hadn't been expecting; Clyde was apparently trying to protect Stan from me since he knew first hand that I could be "sort of a dick" (his words, not mine) when someone liked me and I didn't return their feelings.

Whatever.

"What kind of things do they talk about?" I found myself asking curiously as I passed the pipe back to the blonde. He shrugged and closed the magazine, letting it rest on his stomach as he accepted the offering.

"I don't really stick around long enough to find out, to be honest. I'd rather not hear it. There's been plenty of times that Stan's mentioned how he'd pretty much like to jump your bones, though."

"Really?"

"Well he hasn't outright said it, but he might as well have. It's so obvious." He took a hit and passed the pipe back to me.

With a perked brow, I continued to stare at him in thought. Stan was definitely an attractive guy, and I'd be lying if I said that I'd never checked him out in the locker room after gym class or that I not once ever thought about him when I was tending to my own needs in the safe confines of my bedroom, but that was where I drew the line. There was not an ounce of me that took an interest in him otherwise; I had no desire to learn his quirks, or find out what he wanted to pursue for a career, and I definitely didn't give a shit to hold him and listen to him bitch, whine, and complain about how the world sucked and how sad he was. He was nice to look at, and that was it; perfect jack off material.

Kenny must've realized what was on my mind since his expression turned from one of amusement to some sort of discontent glare.

"Dude, don't even think about it," Kenny warned. His light blue eyes were fixed on me in a sort of stern look, as if he were telling his daughter's boyfriend that if he defiled his little girl then he'd have his balls chopped off and fed to the family Doberman.

I couldn't help the devilish smirk that crept over my lips. "Don't think about what, exactly?"

"Stan's sensitive. He can't handle being fucked with, so don't go there. Unless you want me to fix those fucked up teeth of yours; I'd be more than happy to knock them straight with my fist if that's the case."

Laughing, I rolled my eyes and reached for the magazine that he'd discarded onto the coffee table in lieu of the one under the couch. "Gotta go for the teeth, huh? Don't worry—Stan might be hot, but I have no interest in dealing with his crazy, so your little friend will stay innocent." Which was true—the part about Stan being hot, I mean. Unfortunately, Stan wasn't exactly as innocent as I initially thought him to be, but I'll get to that another time later in the story.

Kenny huffed and opened his mouth to respond, but the buzzing of his phone grabbed his attention. I watched as his brows lifted in immediate interest while reading over the text he'd gotten. Must've been a booty call.

"I've gotta go—I'll see you later dude," Kenny said while flipping his phone shut and pushing himself off the couch. I gave him a nod and turned back to the magazine I was reading. He was halfway up the basement stairs before he turned back to me. "Oh, and Craig?"

"Hmm."

"I meant what I said about not messing around with Stan," he warned and pointed a finger at me. I rolled my eyes and shooed him away with my hand.

"Trust me, I'm not planning on doing anything. He's too much of a pussy, anyways."

Kenny took my words at face value and gave a small laugh before disappearing up the rest of the stairs. Hell, I even believed what I had told him at the time, but I guess fate had another idea for me since avoiding Stan obviously didn't work out too well, given the current circumstances of me sitting around an empty apartment waiting for Stan to walk through that goddamn door.