A/N: Don't take this too seriously...
Park County High's annual Christmas Ball was an event both loved and loathed by the student body. Some saw it as an excuse to get wasted, a practice run for an eagerly awaited prom and a hotbed for drunken antics and 'drama'. Others saw it as an ugly, abrupt reminder of school and the assholes it was made up of (since the event had always inexplicably taken place during Christmas break), a cheapening of a holiday and an expensive waste of time.
No matter what their feelings on the Christmas Ball were, the students of Park County High acknowledged that the Ball was integral to the school. It was as big and unshiftable as the asbestos in the ceiling and the wasps' nest that hung outside the window of the first floor boys' bathroom. The Ball had now accumulated such importance that being on the committee was a sure-fire way of gaining college credit. This meant that for every year for the past ten years, straight A students (who abused extra credit like narcotics) and students whose grade point averages had remained stagnant since elementary school and were willing to do anything so long as it looked good on their college applications, sacrificed their free periods and lunchtimes to meet up and organize the impending Christmas Ball.
On December 5th, the first meeting of the Christmas Ball Committee was in session. Freezing their asses off in an abandoned conference room, in the aptly named 'leaky part' of the school were;
Butters Stotch, who had been wearing a rotation of Christmas sweaters since November 25th and had turned up to the meeting wearing antlers. The only person who found his enthusiasm for Christmas endearing was Butters himself and sadly, Cartman had no choice but to say what they were all thinking: "As if those faggy sweaters weren't enough Butters, take those antlers off before I knee you in the crotch, gaywad"
Craig Tucker, he had been, in his words 'court-ordered' by the 'college counselor lady' to join the committee in a desperate attempt to get college credit. As long as could get stoned before attending the meetings, then he was totally cool with this 'festive bullshit'.
Jimmy Valmer, who had no plans to sign up originally. He had better things to do during Christmas break than spend the night in the school gym. But Wendy had begged him, she needed him to make these meetings bearable and Jimmy, people pleaser as he is, daren't say no.
Bebe Stevens, swayed by her best friendship with Wendy and her shamelessly girly passion for glitter and list making. Those two things she found almost as orgasmic as Clyde's shoulders or the way he smelt after he came out of the shower (in her opinion, boy's body-wash smelt so much sexier than girl's body-wash. She didn't think this was coincidental and she had a theory that all male bath products were just aphrodisiacs used to entice women).
Stan Marsh, who never wanted to involve himself in anything school related. In his opinion, committees and clubs and hell, even sport teams bred unnecessary drama and conflicts. Stan figured he could take the peacemaker approach and demand that everyone get along but he thought isolating himself from it all was simpler. He could be like Buddha, instead of sitting beneath a tree for twenty years he could play guitar in his room, goof around in Sizzler with his friends or make out with his gorgeous boyfriend (who he only ever saw after school and on the weekend). It seemed so blissful to Stan. But the aforementioned college counselor suggested that maybe the Christmas Ball commitee wouldn't be such a terrible idea, after all, it's not like it's a permanent gig and it wouldn't take up too much of his time. So Stan begrudgingly signed up.
Token Black, hoping that his biggest contribution to the committee would be funding some of the more expensive aspects of the event. Even though his family were still the richest in South Park, Token was never blatant with his wealth and if he was, the show of cash was always accidental. He was big on saving, his obscene monthly allowances building up but remaining untouched. Since it was his last year in this school, nay this town Token thought it would be rather charitable of him to spend the money on his fellow classmates. Very fitting for this time of year, he thought. When he came up with this philanthropy venture, he had one particular classmate in mind.
Kenny McCormick, knowing that since he didn't have the luxury to afford the ball and the prom, he might as well get involved and help out as much as he could. Although prom was considered a bigger deal, Kenny's love for Christmas (even if his Christmases were always a tad sparse) forced him to choose the ball. Besides, he had a date for this event. Perhaps by the time the prom came around his date had moved on? Kenny wasn't stupid. It was inevitable, as much as he willed it not to be. Things that are too good to be true had a short shelf life, Kenny knew that better than anybody. But Kenny was trying not to think about it too much. Might as well make our last dance special, Kenny thought with a heavy heart and a lump in his throat as he signed himself up.
Kyle Broflovski, figuring that signing up would be a big enough gesture to show people that even though he technically didn't celebrate Christmas, that didn't mean he was shunning the holiday. After Cartman scolded Kyle for being "all Jewish and socially awkward" Kyle felt that he had a point to prove; He couldn't give two shits about feeling left out during this time of the year. So he made Cartman watch him sign up for the committee. Kyle couldn't remember Cartman's response to that, but he did remember the blowjob he received afterwards (it was pretty amazing, then again, Cartman's blowjobs were consistently terrific). This 'gift' of fellatio suggested to Kyle that Cartman was impressed or turned on or both by Kyle's signing up. Which led Kyle to wonder when exactly did proving each other wrong become incredibly hot and sexual, their own chaste form of foreplay?
Eric Cartman, who was only here because of Kyle. Wasn't everything because of Kyle? Although that selfish, narcissistic part of him would hate to admit it, Kyle was the only person who Cartman felt was truly worthy of his attention and consideration. Sure, when Cartman caught himself thinking of Kyle it felt saccharine and nauseating, but it also felt, well, good. Uch, when did he become so cloying? Nevertheless, he was here. Impressed by Kyle's conviction and because Kyle promised him sex if he tagged along and behaved.
And last, but not least, Wendy Testaburger. She had been gorging on extra credit since elementary school but was still picking for more meat. Besides, she needed a challenge. And with the exception of people like Kyle, Stan, Bebe, Jimmy and Token (AKA The only people she felt were capable of co-operating and pulling their weight) the others who had somehow ambled their way in here were the challenge she desperately needed. Wendy couldn't help but beam with excitement as she fronted the table, some would say naïve, to the collective migraine sitting in front of her.
The first twenty minutes went off without a hitch. Wendy felt confident in her self-appointed leadership and the rest of the committee breathed an inward, collective sigh of relief that the debates hadn't been too heated and that none of them were seriously injured.
Then again, all they had covered so far was positions within the 'team' and that hadn't exactly been easy...
"So, what's first on the agenda, Wendy?" Butters piped up from the far end of the round table, pen in hand, ready to take the minutes.
"Theme" Wendy replied, flashing Butters a typical class president smile before continuing "Yes, I feel that if we get that done and out of the way, it'll make the decision of food and music a lot easier. So, any ideas?"
"Christmas?" Craig murmurs, half asleep.
"How i-i-imaginative..." Jimmy quips, raising a few sniggers and Craig's middle finger.
"Well, what was the theme last year?" Stan asks, he didn't pay much attention to the previous balls, as per protocol. Stan probably went to the ball in freshman year, but Lord knows if he had a good time. His amnesia about the whole thing certainly suggested it couldn't have been a crappy night.
"There was no theme last year" Kyle replies, looking up at his super best friend sat opposite him "Unless drunken teenagers with vomit on their rented tuxes can be called a theme"
"Yeah, I think it was called 'I'm Dreaming of a White Trash Christmas'" Cartman figured he might as well join in with this whole committee bullshit and if talking to these douches meant getting Kyle in bed faster, then he was willing to sacrifice his patience.
"Such a magical time of year..." Kenny sighed. The four of them childishly laughed amongst each other, momentarily forgetting that they were at a meeting where Wendy Testaburger was the chairwoman.
"Boys! Pipe down!"
"Sorry ho..." Cartman smirks insolently.
"Oh Eric, how I've missed your dulcet tones" Wendy mutters before composing herself and plowing on professionally "Come on, people! Ideas!"
After a long pause, Butters timidly suggested "Christmas in Hawaii?"
"That does sound kinda cool..." Kyle offered supportively.
"It sounds totally cool!" Bebe grinned, squealing and pinching Wendy's arm "Wends, we have to dress up like Hula girls!"
"If the temperature rises above freezing, then I'll consider it" Wendy replies before nodding at Butters "Thanks for the idea, Butters. We're off to a good start."
"Wait, if you guys are wearing Hula girl outfits does that mean we have to wear Hawaiian shirts?" Token groaned, a frightening realization for every male in the room. Hawaiian shirts? Are you fucking serious?
"You can wear whatever you want" Wendy assured him before adding wisely "Within reason..."
"Why don't you wanna wear a Hawaiian shirt? It's fun!" Kenny teased, nudging Token playfully in the ribs "Don't be such a Grinch, dude!"
"Easy for you to say, Ken!" Stan laughed, rolling his eyes "I'm saying this in the most platonic way possible, but dude, you're kinda dreamy."
"You have got a kind of Abercrombie and Fitch thing going on" Craig chirped, his head lolling as he continued to trip and drift in and out of consciousness.
"I don't remember Abercrombie and Fitch having a Ghetto collection" Cartman grinned.
"You want me to kick you in the balls, fatass?" Kenny asked sweetly, cocking his head to the side in a saccharine manner.
"No he doesn't" Kyle replied sternly, grabbing hold of Cartman's wrist in the way a mother might hold a child's hand to stop them running into traffic, protective yet irritated. Kyle muttered "Behave. I told you, all you have to do is sit here and be quiet."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir" Cartman replies, licking his teeth and giving Kyle a look that makes his jaw grind and his jeans tighten.
"Christmas in Jamaica?" Craig lazily suggested. "And instead of mistletoe we can all kiss under the baggies of weed hanging from the rafters?" You couldn't deny his Christmas spirit.
"That's kinda similar to Christmas in Hawaii, don't you think?" Wendy sighed.
"Whatever" Was Craig's indignant reply.
"How about we do Christmas in the tropics?" Token shrugs "It covers a lot of bases, right?"
"True" Wendy nodded.
"Is Mexico included in that?" Bebe asked "Because if so, then that meets Clyde's taco requirements..."
"Sure, Mexico can be included." Wendy nods.
"We should have Christmas around the world and be d-d-done with it"
"Oh, Kyle, that reminds me, do you have any dietary needs?" Butters asked, taking his roles as food organiser and minute taker very seriously, scribbling minutes furiously whilst creating a menu in his head.
"What?" Kyle asked, startled by the small, timid voice that seemed to have come from nowhere.
"Well, uh, you know kosher stuff" Butters replied, flushing slightly. "What food is, um, not allowed, again? Jeez, what's the Hebrew word for it?"
"Trefah" Kyle replies "Don't sweat, Butters. I'm only Kosher when I need to be"
"What the hell does that mean?" Craig asked, suddenly taking interest in the selective nature of Kyle's faith.
"Well, I only avoid things like pork or shellfish or uncertified meat during the high holidays" Kyle explains "Or when my mom is around."
"It's true" Cartman pipes up "I once saw him eat a bacon pancake. Not gonna lie, it was kinda hot."
"Shut up" Kyle hisses.
"Guys!" Wendy shouted, slamming her hand down hard on the table. Her stinging palm somewhat soothed by the quiet and startled looks of the committee members. "Now, don't get me wrong, I think this is a wonderful theme but I want us to have more than one idea. Please tell me there are other suggestions?"
"Christmas in space?" Token suggests.
"I like it!" Wendy beams as she writes the idea down "It's interesting, unique..."
"Gives you a chance to dust off your old solar system costume, right Kyle?" Stan smirks.
"Oh my God, dude! Do you remember that?" Kyle laughs "Oh man, all that hard work and I didn't even fucking place! But hey, at least it's better than dressing up as Raggedy Andy!"
"I didn't look that stupid, dude" Stan blushes.
"You looked ridiculous" Kyle replies, with as much 'bro love' as he could muster.
"Shakespeare theme?" Bebe asked.
"Ooh! Good one!" Butters exclaimed, clapping his hands, momentarily forgetting his minute taking duties. His antlers bobbing on top of his lemon blond head in glee.
"As if we need anymore reminders of English class" Token replies dryly.
"True, but this could be kinda fun! We could call it 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' Dream" Kenny quips.
"The Winter's Tale?" Kyle shrugs.
"Wait, Clyde just text me" Bebe began, opening the message and reading it; "Snow-meo and Juliet?"
"That'll certainly grab people's attention!" Wendy laughs before narrowing her eyes at Token and smirking wryly "Even if it does remind them of English class..."
"I'm just saying!" Token jokes in mock-defense.
"Eric, do you have any suggestions?" Wendy asks bittersweetly, turning to Cartman and fluttering her eyelashes in a manner so blatant that it was obviously venomous.
After a minute of convincing thought, Cartman grabbed a pen and a nearby post-it note and wrote, in his crudest handwriting "Fuck You Wendy"
"Sweetie, you haven't got a snowball's chance in Hell" Wendy replied sardonically. Cartman scowled, throwing the scrumpled post-it note at a sniggering Kenny.
Cartman had blown his chances of getting laid. It became obvious to him when the meeting got out and Kyle stormed off wordlessly. The other commitee members, Stan included, just wrote this off as another typical bout of Kyle's special brand of wrath and quickly diverted their minds to more self-absorbed matters. Cartman, however (maybe realizing that Kyle's temper was going to negatively affect him) was curious and, dare he say it, concerned.
Ready to follow Kyle and have a full-blown domestic in the hallway, Cartman then noticed that Kyle was leaning against a distant locker, waiting for him. Albeit rather begrudgingly and impatiently. Kyle regretted letting his eyes momentarily hover over his boyfriend, the disgust and irritation managed to override the sickening, heady want that Kyle felt tug at his stomach, his breath catching in his lungs when he first noticed Cartman. His anger provoked such a violent visceral reaction that Kyle feared he might vomit. Luckily, he didn't but he did wretch and cringe at the bile that had risen in his throat. Only Cartman, God damn it, only Cartman... The only words that his enraged mind could string together filled him with even more loathing (this time, however, it was more self-centered) and when Cartman offered him a weary smile, Kyle just about managed to keep eye contact with him.
Cartman swallowed nervously, Golden Brown eyes tearing away from the merciless Emerald eyes currently piercing him. Kyle's rage dissipated briefly, Cartman's timidness was a potent aphrodisiac that Kyle would gladly let engulf his senses and he smirked back at Cartman, thoroughly evil. Cartman dared to smile, knowing that the smirk playing on Kyle's lips was not tainted with affection but something much crueler, but in some sick way, that was even better.
Kyle coughed into his fist, mumbling something incoherent and turning away from Cartman, if only to stop an unwanted wave of affection washing away his bittersweet arousal. Cartman sighed, trailing obediently after a dispassionate Kyle, who strode purposefully out of the school and into the cold, Colorado December and the remnants of a blizzard.
Kyle's car radio had no choice but to spew cloying Christmas songs over the tense, familiar silence.
It was almost as if those brief few seconds in the hallway, where the innate, undeniable chemistry between the two of them (what roughly drove them into each other's arms in the first place) overwhelmed their spat, were forgotten. Left to settle and cling to the linoleum floor like dust for the janitor to sweep up. Cartman stared out of the window mournfully, figuring that he still had a few more seconds to say something, anything... He could crack a joke, break the fucking silence, hell, make amends even, admit to the fact that he hadn't exactly kept his promise... A few more seconds before Kyle remorselessly turned that sharp corner and dropped him off at his front door. Cartman couldn't understand why this had become such a big deal, it wasn't as if sex with Kyle was hard to come by. It was just something else, something that made him feel hollow and frustratingly, irredeemably sad at the thought of losing. But what was he losing? It was something he was too ashamed to think about when Kyle was in such close proximity. That damn Jew is intuitive, Cartman thought, I'm a pathetically predictable mess around him, right? And for some elusive reason, the thought made Cartman smile.
Kyle felt his patience wear thin with every drawn out minute of silence. It was ridiculous, he scolded, so stubborn and typical. Of the both of them. As much as he'd love to blame Cartman for all of this, he knew that there was fault lying in him too. Sure, Cartman behaved like an asshole. Yes, Kyle was pissed off. But none of them wanted this annoying, petty silence, did they? Kyle knew what this was all about, what pathetic little insecurity was prompting this behavior. Kyle just wanted to remind himself that before he lo- Well, whatever it was that he felt towards Cartman, he actually used to hate him. A side of him, almost as fervent as the side that was so red-blooded and passionate towards Cartman, still did hate him. And apparently, by some furious, irrational logic, giving Cartman the silent treatment was supposed to remind him of that hatred. To remind both of them.
But that was just so childish, at least Kyle thought so. And wasn't he done with all that bullshit now? It was tiring. Kyle found it physically exhausting. Kyle wouldn't feel any joy from dropping Cartman off at his house, not saying goodbye and then going home alone. He'd feel guilty, worked up and even angrier than he was before. It's stressful shit like this that makes people have heart attacks. But it was so unnecessary, when all Kyle really wanted to do was take Cartman back to his place and have sex with him. Maybe his pride was on the line but Kyle had fretted over losing that damn thing for years, especially to Eric Cartman. But now, Kyle figured that maybe it was time he took pride out of the equation, took a deep breath and thought about what he wanted to do at this precise moment, what he knew was going to make him happy.
"All I Want For Christmas Is You" by Mariah Carey managed to slip through the fuzzy interference of Kyle's radio as he silently drove past the turning to Cartman's cul-de-sac, not even acknowledging this action.
"Kahl?" Cartman asked, innocent and unassuming.
Kyle didn't acknowledge Cartman either. He stared straight ahead at the white road in front of him.
"Um, Kahl, you missed the turning to my street..." Cartman spoke again, wincing at pointing out the obvious.
"I know" Kyle replied bluntly.
Cartman sighed, shaking his head and hoping to lighten the mood "So this is how it all ends, huh? You're gonna drive into the woods and kill me? Well, it's been a pleasure Jewboy, truly."
"Fuck you." Kyle snapped, even if he was taking pride out of the equation, the damn thing was still as intrusive and consuming as a tapeworm. "No, we're going to my house."
Cartman raised a puzzled eyebrow, hoping that the aching heat that flooded to his groin and the dryness of his throat wasn't too obvious. After all, he didn't want to blow his second chance by embarrassing himself. Still, he was confused and although he was watching his mouth (lest he say something that made Kyle throw him out of the car) he couldn't help but question what Kyle was doing. "But you said you weren't-"
"I know I said I wasn't-" Kyle interrupts, his knuckles paled as he tightened his grip on the wheel.
"Then what the Hell are you planning on doing to me, Jew?" Cartman asks, licking his teeth at the connotations behind that question. He added derisively "Since I didn't 'behave' or whatever..."
Kyle pulled into his driveway with an unceremonious screech of wheels against the frozen concrete, the two boys jerked forward in their seats at the awkward and abrupt manner of Kyle's parking. The radio continued to hum to itself, caught up in the festive spirit and the car felt considerably colder.
Kyle loosened his grip, his shivering fingers sliding down the wheel. It occurred to the both of them that their breathing had somehow become synchronized. Cartman stared at Kyle with unsure, wide eyes, his heart crashing, unbearably hot in his chest. Kyle's appearance at this precise moment unnerved Cartman, his nose was tinged red from the cold and his eyes had grown misty and distant, preoccupied with the view outside his windscreen. A plain, old garage. Nothing special. But Kyle was looking at it so carefully, so thoughtfully and Cartman knew that plain, old garages were the last thing on Kyle's mind.
Kyle clenched his fists to soothe the labored, ragged quality of his breathing. It didn't work. He was gnawing on his lip, begging hungrily for the right words. But Kyle figured that there would never be a perfect way to say anything and that the rambled, irrational nonsense his mind concocted was what Cartman deserved to hear. He deserved to hear plain old, socially awkward Kyle.
"Listen, I'm appalled by how you behaved." Kyle begins, his voice strong and unwavering. That is, until, he turns to meet Cartman's confused eyes and something in him trembles, unexplainable and warm. "I'm disappointed even, that you made me believe you could promise me something and not break it. And I hate myself because, even through all of that, I still really want you to fuck me."
Cartman swallows, the words permeating him and clinging to his lit nerves. He grins, his Golden Brown eyes lilting as he stares into Kyle's Emerald ones "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Kahl. After all, I am very good."
And as if to prove his point, Cartman leaned over and gave Kyle a sweet, chaste kiss. Cartman could taste the resentment behind it, tinged with a sincerity that Kyle had never been so brazen about before. Whilst Kyle eagerly licked the gratefulness away from Cartman's lips.
Suddenly, the Christmas songs didn't seem so sickly.
They stared at each other's mouths for a few seconds after they pulled away, thumbing Kyle's jaw line Cartman whispered huskily "And if it makes you feel any better, I'm sorry..."
Kyle rolled his eyes and laughed, pushing Cartman away from him "Damn it, don't apologize. We never apologize to each other..."
"Any apology is implied" Kyle grinned as he got out of the car, leaving Cartman to stare, aroused and still slightly confused, after him.
After a year of fucking (otherwise known as 'dating') and having spent their entire childhoods together, Cartman and Kyle thought they could never surprise each other. Turns out they were wrong. Kyle discovered only a few months ago that Cartman could play piano (and was actually really good at it) and that he started going to therapy when he was thirteen (He stopped going after two years and he admitted to Kyle that the thought of having a reason to go back, terrifies him).
Cartman had also learnt some interesting things about Kyle. Like, for example, that Kyle could just about speak Hebrew fluently. Cartman found it secretly adorable when Kyle muttered in Hebrew under his breath when he was angry or, even better, when he spoke it in bed. Cartman also found out that Kyle liked Nirvana. A lot. They sometimes listened to it during sex, which led to Cartman becoming shamefully aroused whenever he saw a picture of Kurt Cobain. Damn it, Kyle.
The two boys were lying in Kyle's bed, limply draped across each other in exhaustion. Comfortable with their nakedness and lack of conversation. All there was, was the winged beat of their hearts, ragged breathing, the trail of clothes from Kyle's bedroom door to the bed, the softly falling snow outside, In Utero and Kyle singing Heart Shaped Box under his breath. Unspoiled and perfect until Kyle's parents came home. But neither of them wanted to think about that now.
"You're a terrible singer" Cartman laughed gently into Kyle's hair, his index finger tracing the faint column of Kyle's spine.
Kyle blinked in response, the tide of Cartman's heart crashing against the shell of his ear and the grit of Mr Cobain's voice was lulling him, seeking slumber on Cartman's broad chest.
Kyle looked up, damp-eyed and amused and sang even louder.
"Shut up!" Cartman laughed, shoving Kyle's face away with the palm of his hand, blushing as Kyle giggled.
"You know how much you love my voice..." Kyle teased, grabbing Cartman's wrist and lowering it onto the pillow, his toxic eyes draining the gold out of Cartman's.
"I love your voice when you're screaming my name" Cartman replied, melding his lips with Kyle's before he could argue back. Kyle had to admit he was kinda loud, he preferred to think of it as an expression of passion.
Kyle wrapped his trembling arms around Cartman's neck as their deep, throbbing kisses had Kyle pinned underneath him.
Breathless, wanton moans escaped Kyle's plush mouth as Cartman's tongue slipped out of it, instead trailing down Kyle's chin and laving his glistening, slender neck. Kyle shivered and sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as Cartman's wet, half-hard member slid against his own, Cartman sunk his teeth into Kyle's neck and whined as Kyle raised his hips to meet Cartman's excruciatingly slow thrusts.
As they frotted together, the evidence of their earlier tryst still drying, Cartman moaned into Kyle's neck "Is my apology accepted, Jewboy?"
"Maybe" Kyle smiled, his hands running down Cartman's shoulders, squeezing his bicep playfully, Kyle smirked "I kind of wanna see you get down on your knees and beg for my forgiveness..."
"I can do that..." Cartman murmurs as he sucks on the skin clinging between his teeth, Kyle groans and digs his nails into Cartman's arm.
Cartman broke away then, staring smugly at the sore, pink marks that collared Kyle's neck. After a moment of self-congratulation, he felt himself drown in Kyle's disinterested stare. Even when he wasn't the center of his attention, Cartman knew that Kyle was palpably beautiful. In an effort to defuse Kyle's confusion over his dreamy staring, Cartman leaned down and brushed Kyle's lips with his own.
Cartman spoke nervously between kisses; "You know that... If I apologized... I'd be sincere, right?
"I guess" Kyle shrugs, he didn't know what the big deal was. How was Cartman still hung up on the whole apology thing? These last two hours in bed had pretty much made Cartman's amends for him.
"And you'd take it seriously, wouldn't you?"
"If you're being sincere, then why wouldn't I?" Kyle asks, he spoke into Cartman's mouth "You know what? I think you're going soft..."
"Around you? Never." Cartman growled, grinding his hips against Kyle's groin.
"Hmm, you're so charming..." Kyle moaned.
"Do you think Wendy will let me go to the next committee meeting?" Cartman joked, he didn't particularly want to go to the next committee meeting anyway.
"I dunno" Kyle laughs "I think she kinda likes having you around. You're like the Grinch or the Scrooge we all need to make us feel better about ourselves."
"What are you talking about?! I love Christmas!" Cartman snaps.
Ignoring Cartman completely, Kyle adds "Besides, I think she's got a little crush on you..."
"Well, how couldn't she? I'm gorgeous."
"And modest"
"Jealous, Jew?"
"Shut up" Kyle snaps, blushing at the fact that he totally was. He couldn't stop picturing Cartman taking that post-it note seriously and fucking Wendy on the desk in that old, leaky conference room.
"You don't really wanna go to that lame ass Ball, do you?" Cartman asked, slicing Kyle's disturbing thoughts.
Kyle sighed in relief and stared up at Cartman gratefully "Well, I guess I have to, right? You know, since I'm on the committee and everything..."
"You make it sound like you've signed your soul away" Cartman grins.
"Maybe I have" Kyle squirmed, quickly trying to discard the hellish notion. "But it's not so bad. Maybe the ball will be fun?" Kyle knew he couldn't sound less skeptical and unconvinced.
"You know God damn well it never is..." Cartman replied. "It's like the pace lap for prom except it's more fucking tedious and makes you want to vomit up eggnog, which I fucking hate by the way"
The simplicity of elementary school seemed like a cruel, distant memory to the four boys now. Whereas they used to spend their summers embracing the boyish novelty of playing outside, their weekends and school vacations now saw them evolving into the adolescent pastime of drinking in each other's basements or hanging out in Sizzler until closing time. Although, they couldn't complain. There was not that much to do in a small town and they resented the thought of forcing themselves into social situations with the other assholes from school. They were cool with it just being the four of them, it had always been that way, and until graduation, where people become remants of childhood that disperse right before your eyes, it would stay that way.
But, while Cartman, Stan and Kenny took the somewhat anti-social approach to teenagerhood, Kyle recognized that sometimes you have to do things that you don't really want to do. And since he was on the honor roll, was nominated for class president was on the basketball team and had become slightly more popular than his other three friends, he was roped in to a lot of extracurricular school events that meant he had to socialize with other people. Kyle felt he was being mature and realistic about the whole thing. Meanwhile, the boys ripped on him, called him a traitor and 'lovingly' threw empty Doritos packets at him while he left one of their respective basements, blowing the guys off and leaving early to attend some 'preppy' school function.
Cartman had come to the chilling conclusion that, now he and Kyle were dating, he too would have to attend these pathetic, dweeby events. After all, relationships are all about compromise and if Kyle can handle the taxing job of dating a sociopath then Cartman would have to endure the equally taxing duty of attending things like Christmas Balls and proms with Kyle. Uch.
Still, it didn't mean that Cartman couldn't use his extraordinary manipulative skills to dissuade Kyle.
"Why do you care whether or not I go?" Kyle asked, genuinely confused. It never occurred to him that Cartman would go with him to that lame-ass ball. Because that's exactly what it was; a lame ass ball. An event which held no particular importance and that Kyle felt was a formality not some spectacular, romantic night. Besides, he didn't think Cartman did the whole 'spectacular, romantic night' thing. No matter how flamboyant he could occasionally be.
"Because I thought we were-" Cartman begins before biting the inside of his mouth. Shut the fuck up, God damn it!
"What?" Kyle nervously laughs, scolding himself for acting so coy when he knew what the end of that sentence was. How could he not? To Kyle, Cartman was the most predictable person walking this Earth.
"It's nothing, Jew. Forget it" Cartman mutters uncomfortably, quickly removing himself from Kyle's embrace so that asshole doesn't see how, God, Cartman can't even think about it hurt he is right now. You should've seen this coming, Cartman spits spitefully in his head, You should have never flattered yourself and thought that he actually wanted to take you to something as obnoxiously 'special' as a God damn ball. We're not that type of couple, remember? He doesn't like you that much.
"Cartman" Kyle begins slowly and hearing him say his name just hurts Cartman more "You thought that I wanted you to go with me?"
And just when Kyle thought that Cartman hated that preppy, nauseating bullcrap. Maybe Kyle was wrong, maybe Cartman wasn't as predictable as he thought. Still, Kyle wasn't an idiot. He wasn't superficial enough to think that Cartman could be this pissed off about not being asked to the Ball. It was something more, it had to be. The same things that Kyle was wrestling with, the undefined nature of their relationship that once seemed like such a good thing but was now causing so much disappointment. The only thing they knew for sure was that they were 'not that type of couple' they had agreed on that when they were lying on Cartman's living room floor, the third time that they had had sex, but honestly, they had no idea what that meant. They were fucking lost as to what couple they should or shouldn't be.
"Well, yeah" Cartman replied softly, sadly. He turned his head to look into Kyle's apologetic eyes "Remember I signed my soul away too"
Kyle stared at Cartman for a minute longer than he should have. It was just that Cartman had never felt so small or weak to him and although Kyle should've reveled sickly in that, he couldn't. Because he cared too much. He always had, but he didn't loathe that feeling now.
Kyle smiled, kissing Cartman's forehead and giggling "I thought Satan had taken care of your soul long ago..."
"True" Cartman replied dryly "I guess Wendy has it on loan."
They both laughed to themselves, using Pennyroyal Tea as an excuse to not say anything more.
"I really don't wanna go to that Ball, Cartman. Honestly..." Kyle sighs "I can think of better things to do during Christmas break."
"Like what?" Cartman asks, rolling his eyes "Not opening any presents on Christmas day? Having sex with me? Playing video games and drinking lukewarm beers in Stan's basement?"
"No" Kyle scowls, playfully punching Cartman on the arm before saying "We can do all that traditional, lame Christmas stuff. Watch Christmas specials, eat Christmas dinner, I'll help you and your mom decorate the tree, on New Years' Eve we can watch the ball drop and, um, if you ever have the house to yourself we can have festive sex by the fireplace."
"Wow" Cartman whispers, running a hand through Kyle's curls and pulling him closer "For someone who doesn't celebrate Christmas, you sure know how to get into the yuletide spirit"
"Sounds good, right?" Kyle smirks, brushing his lips against Cartman's.
"Sounds amazing."
"And we can boycott the Ball" Kyle beams before adding "Oh, but I still gotta go to the committee meetings."
"Cool. You don't think Wendy will be too pissed if you don't go to the Ball, do you?"
"Nah" Kyle shrugs. "I know you don't believe it, but Wendy isn't as pedantic and bitchy as you make her out to be."
"Whatever"
"So we'll both be Scrooges together, deal?" Kyle teases, biting Cartman's lip.
"Bah Humbug" Cartman agrees.
The still-to-be-defined couple felt the first bout of Christmas cheer as they fooled around in an unmade bed, Nirvana played in the background, snow fell outside and Christmas lights began to open their luteous, ecstatic eyes.
Bebe had been a loyal customer at the Donovan family shoe shop since she was five years old. Of course back then she was more of an admirer of the shoes than an actual customer. Little Bebe Stevens with her unruly blond curls in bunches and scuffed, petite Mary Janes marvelled at the rows and rows of colorful delights at this cobbler candy store. While her mother slipped on pair after pair and chatted to the late Mrs Donovan about the new stock, Bebe was free to pull the shoes from their confines and feel like a giant as she toddled around the store. Licorice laces on wedged boots, stilettos that gleamed like gummies and leather that smelt as heavenly as chocolate.
Even when her mother's visits became less frequent, Bebe made sure to drop by every weekend. Sometimes with her friends, mostly on her own as she could fawn and study the shoes to her heart's content. She sometimes wondered if she was being any trouble, after all, she didn't have cash to spend all the time and she felt like she was teasing the Donovans by gushing about a particular pair, trying them on and doing her best strut up and down the store but not purchasing them.
Clyde was thirteen when he decided to help his dad at the store during the summer. He needed pocket money to fund his almost daily trips to Denver and he figured his dad could use some assistance. His first day on the job certainly became more interesting when his childhood crush walked through the door. Bebe didn't notice Clyde as he silently watched her, trying to draw minimal attention to himself. But he prayed she would come back the next day, both terrified and excited at the prospect of her noticing him and perhaps even talking to him.
Naturally, he was right. But a week went by before she strode up to the counter, a bemused, mildly surprised (but typically friendly) smile on her face and said "Clyde, I had no idea you started working here!"
Their exchanges were awkward at first (Well, as awkward as kids who had known each other since preschool could be) but after a while it started to become second nature for Clyde to recommend shoes to Bebe, hold a conversation with her and not feel so flustered around her.
Clyde had noticed things about Bebe, things that after harboring a crush on her five years he had only just begun to notice. To him, this felt like a more personal, intimate environment and he felt like he could observe her more, but in a way that felt slightly less creepy. He adored the way she twirled a lock of her abundance of blond curls around her index finger, how her nose wrinkled when she laughed her firecracker laugh and the chubbiness of her ankles. Yeah, he found that last one strange too. And Bebe too, found herself getting excited about things other than shoes when she entered the store.
Finally, after two years Clyde asked Bebe if she would like to maybe go to the food court and get a bite to eat once he got off work.
"Sure, as long as I get a free pair of these!" Bebe laughed, holding up a pair of pale pink pumps.
"Oh, so that's why you-" Clyde replied, crushed that Bebe was only after him for shoes. Was dating Bebe really worth it if meant that she was just using him? Sighing, he continued "Okay, whatever. That's cool, I guess..."
"Clyde. I was kidding." Bebe explained, squeezing his arm reassuringly.
"Oh. Oh, thank God."
Three years later and they were still dating. Bebe came into the store more than ever and Clyde kept insisting on giving her discounts.
"Clyde!" Bebe called out into the empty store. The mall was practically deserted as the shopping day drew to a close. She had been over Wendy's house holding a committee meeting of their own, her notebook bulging with the various lists they had made that afternoon. "Do you have any coffee or something?"
"It's fucking freezing out there" Bebe muttered, dusting the excess snow off of her thick, scarlet coat and shaking a few flakes out of her thick hair.
"Sure. Hold on, just a sec" Clyde called back, fumbling loudly in the kitchen, cursing under his breath. The kitchen was practically a closet and didn't leave much room for a six foot one guy to move around in.
"I'll be waiting!" Bebe laughed, sitting herself down on one of the stools.
"So how did the meeting go?" Clyde asked.
"Pretty good" Bebe replied "All we did was decide on a theme, but Wendy and I made a lot of headway over at her house"
"Sounds like you two should be the ones running the show, be a two woman committee!" Clyde teased "I've never met two people more organized in all my life! I mean, you have a list for everything!"
"It's what I do" Bebe shrugs "It's like crack to me"
"So what theme did you decide on?"
"Shakespeare theme"
"Snow-meo and Juliet?" Clyde asks hopefully, after all, he felt pretty proud of that when he came up with it.
"Sorry honey, no..." Bebe replied, wincing at Clyde's disappointment. "'Twas the Night Before Christmas' Dream"
"Damn" Clyde muttered before emerging from the kitchen with a cup of coffee. In one of those obnoxious mugs that Bebe was sure he had stolen from the Harbucks in the food court. "One coffee"
"Thanks" Bebe smiled, breathing in Clyde's scent of musky shower gel and leather. He smelt like the t-shirts he had left at her house and that she sometimes wore to bed. "How long have we been dating?"
"Three years" Clyde replies, watching Bebe sip her coffee with disbelief that a girl this gorgeous could ever be with an awkward, clumsy, emotionally unstable guy like him for three whole years.
"So you can guess what I'm feeling like after my first committee meeting today, yes?"
"You're incredibly excited, you're making lists in your head that you're dying to get down on paper and most importantly, you're thinking about your outfit." Clyde answers.
"Exactly!" Bebe squeals "But, as you know, I plan my outfit around the shoes so I was wondering if I could take a look at some of the new stuff you've got in. I had my paycheck last week so when it comes to shoes, I'm unstoppable."
"Believe me, I know" Clyde grins, kissing Bebe at the tip of her cold, flushed nose "What were you looking for?"
"Well, the whole Ball is gonna have A Midsummer Night's Dream theme going on so I was thinking whimsical and elegant but most importantly, festive"
A pair immediately sprung to Clyde's mind. A pair that would be perfect nestled in a glorious foam of shimmering tissue paper, in a festive red box, opened on Christmas day. Clyde almost burst into tears of relief when he saw them in the inventory closet, the perfect Christmas gift was waiting for him conveniently. Buying presents for Bebe wasn't exactly difficult, but like in every other aspect of their relationship, Clyde wanted to leave her speechless and he was sure those beautiful shoes would do just that.
But maybe it would be better to give them to her now, Clyde reasoned. Yes, Clyde may not give Bebe that wonderful, breathless experience on Christmas morning (Well, not in the gift department, anyway...) But that didn't mean he couldn't have one right here? It was all going to feel the same, no matter when or how it happened. Bebe would have the shoes and be delighted. Clyde would have his triumphant boyfriend moment and possibly have a "pussy crybaby" fit (As his friends were quick to label this particular Clyde Donovan phenomenon).
"Wait, I think I saw the pair you're looking for" Clyde grinned before excitedly making his way over to the inventory closet.
"Really?" Bebe asked, clasping her hands together in anticipation.
"Yep!" Clyde called from the closet, rifling through the boxes of shoes before he found his desired pair. "Perfect for the Ball, Cinderella!"
"You're such a Melvin!" Bebe laughs, rolling her eyes as she sees Clyde stride proudly out of the closet, bearing the gift of shoes.
"I was gonna give these to you as a Christmas present, but I guess it's more important that you have them now" Clyde explains.
Kneeling in front of Bebe, looking worryingly like he's about to propose, Clyde lifted the lid of the box and grinned at Bebe's breathless reaction at these satin, red platform heels with a peeptoe and a diamond cluster brooch of snowflakes and lovehearts.
"Wow" Bebe gasped. "Wow!"
Bebe snatched them from the box, tearing some of the paper with an ugly, vicious rip. Bebe's fingers moved cautiously, delicately around every curve and contour, amazed. "They're beautiful" Bebe gasped.
Setting the shoes neatly beside her, Bebe threw her arms around Clyde's neck and pulled him into her chest, suffocating him with her Double Ds while she peppered grateful, joyous kisses on his shoulder.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Bebe exclaimed, cupping Clyde's pink face and staring into his stormy hazel eyes. "They're just what I wanted."
"You're welcome" Clyde whispered before licking her mouth open, Bebe whimpered sweetly into the kiss and dragged Clyde closer. With their lips still sizzling Clyde pulled away and huskily asked "Do you wanna try them on?"
"Sure" Bebe replied breathlessly, she had always thought that Clyde's eyes weren't particularly striking. His pupils blurred into his irises, the ring of green seamlessly slipping into brown before finally reaching the centric coals. But now, inexplicably, with distant holiday music, snow still clinging to her clothes and the perfect pair of shoes, Clyde's eyes seemed captivating. It almost made her cry, but she willed herself not to. Clyde was the crier in the relationship, not her.
"Alright" Clyde replied, unlacing the Doc Martens Bebe had treated herself to last year. She laughed and flexed her toes as Clyde began to peel away her socks from her feet, his fingers unusually warm against her cold skin.
"I need a pedicure" Bebe cringed, her lilac nail polish chipped.
"I honestly didn't notice" Clyde grinned, laughing as Bebe kicked him softly in the chest.
"There you go" Clyde whispered mindlessly as he slipped the red, satin shoes onto her feet. Size 5. Bebe beamed and pointed her feet elegantly, extending her rather short legs and smirking at Clyde's goofy, amused smile.
"So what do you think?" Clyde asked, giving Bebe his hand and helping her to her feet.
"Well, they're no glass slipper" Bebe begins, wrapping her arms around Clyde's neck and staring, half-lidded, into his eyes "But that would be highly impractical, right?"
"Right" Clyde agreed, eyes widening in unnecessary shock as Bebe firmly pressed her lips to his.
And just for good measure, Bebe lifted her foot like any fabulous old Hollywood starlet should.
"I didn't know Mormons celebrated Christmas..." Stan quietly observes, picking up another one of Mrs Harrison's famed Rice Krispy Squares from the table and draping another string of tinsel around the glorious (and in Stan's opinion, gratuitously saccharine) tree.
The Harrison household literally reeked of Christmas; eggnog, cinnamon, gingerbread cookies, pine, Hell, you could even smell Micheal Buble as he crooned Christmas songs from the stereo.
Stan tried to get into the festive spirit (although not even an atomic bomb could erode the Christmas cheer in this house), but it was difficult. Taxing, in fact. All this talk of the Ball was driving Stan crazy, so anything remotely related to Christmas was making him shudder.
"What?" Gary asked, he stopped humming to himself and answered "Well, yeah! Why wouldn't we?"
"I, I don't know"
"We're not just all Joseph Smith and Moroni, you know! We believe in Jesus too! Therefore, we rejoice at his birth and marvel at his resurrection, just like you do."
"Well, do you celebrate Joseph Smith's birthday?" Stan asked and as condescending as it may sound, Gary loved watching Stan inquire, rather flounder, in his religion. It was rather sweet of him to be so naïve to the whole thing.
"No" Gary replied simply, placing a snowman shaped bauble on the tree. "Honestly, Stan, you of all people should realize that it's not just Christians who celebrate Christmas..."
"What are you talking about?" Stan asked, taking an indignant bite of his Rice Krispie Square.
"Kyle! For God's sake, Kyle!" Gary snaps, like it was a conclusion Stan should've swiftly come to "What do you think he does at this time of year?"
"Hanukkah" Stan smirked, incredulously amused that Gary thought he knew Kyle as well as Stan did.
"Well, what does he do when Hanukkah is over with?" Gary asks, flustered in a way he could only ever be around Stan. They annoyed the Hell out of each other and arguments like these were pretty frequent in their relationship, but they were both so different to the people they usually surrounded themselves with. Things were always interesting, exciting in a chaste kind of way and different. They desperately needed variety in their lives and if it came in an attractive package, all the better.
"Waits for Purim" Stan shrugs before taking on a sterner tone "Listen, Gary. Kyle's family doesn't celebrate Christmas."
"Whatever" Gary mutters bitterly, storming over to the other box of Christmas decorations, ripping it open and rummaging through it viciously. He didn't know what he was looking for, why his face was so flushed and why he felt like punching Stan in the nose... It was just protocol. Gary knew that was silly, it had been instilled in to him since he was a little kid that anger was never constructive and that you should channel resentment and frustration into purer things, but as far as Stan was concerned, Gary had disobeyed a lot of things the Church had taught him and as long as Stan was around Gary would continue to do so. Still, he needed an excuse as to why he was behaving this way. This couldn't just be mindless anger, it had to be something else... Before Gary could stop himself he blurted out "Of course you would know that! After all, you pay so much more attention to Kyle than you ever do to me! You know more about your best friend's faith than you do your boyfriend's!"
This envy of Kyle was completely genuine, along with his stubbornness, Gary hated this jealous side of him. It was wrong and he knew it but sometimes he felt like such an outsider, being the only Mormon in this town and he felt like soon he would become more and more of an alien to Stan and then Stan would be driven into the arms of somebody more familiar to him. It was a crazy, paranoid delusion but Gary's insecurities had convinced himself it was an extremely possible scenario.
"Wait, Gary, you're not jealous, are you?" Stan asked, this perturbed him slightly. Stan was supposed to be the flawed guy in this relationship. Not level-headed, sometimes obscenely perfect Gary.
"No" Gary lied, reddening as he stormed back over to the tree.
"Gary, you've got nothing to be jealous about!" Stan laughed, he didn't think this was a wise move. "Kyle's dating... Somebody" Stan would probably wretch if he ended that sentence with 'Cartman'. Just because he supported their relationship didn't mean he was totally in love with the idea.
Gary turned his back on Stan as he focused on decorating the tree "I know that! It's just... It would be nice if you paid as much attention to my faith as you do to his! And I realize that you've known Kyle longer and that you think my faith is ridiculous but I would appreciate it if you just tried!"
"I, I didn't think it meant that much to you..." Stan mumbles, edging closer to Gary, hesitant and embarrassed, touching his boyfriend's shoulder. Stan breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the tight, stressed muscles slip, loose and comfortable under his gentle touch.
"Well, it does" Gary mutters.
"I'm sorry..." Stan begins wrapping his arms around Gary's waist and running his lips over the nape of Gary's pale "What can I do to make it up to you?"
"The Christmas Devotional is in a few days." Gary smiles to himself "We all watch it on the internet, it takes place in Utah... Maybe you can come over and watch it with us?"
"Deal" Stan grins, planting a firm, sweet kiss in Gary's blond, apple-scented hair "I'll do that if you suffer through Midnight Mass with me and my parents on Christmas Eve?"
"Cool" Gary laughs, rolling his eyes, turning around rather abruptly and bashing his nose with Stan's. The romantic, apologetic kiss the two were hoping for going rather awry.
The two boys composed themselves, recognized that the moment was lost and went about decorating the tree.
"You really go to Midnight Mass?" Gary asks, slipping past Stan to reach for another bauble.
"Yeah, I think my parents would feel guilty if they didn't go" Stan replies, studying the tree with a lukewarm smile. "But they're usually drunk when they attend. Since it's Christmas Eve and all..."
"I've never seen my parents drunk" Gary realizes out loud.
"Count yourself lucky" Stan advised darkly.
Gary chuckled awkwardly before chirping "Oh! That reminds me! Speaking of drunken festiveness, are we gonna go to the Ball?"
Stan froze, pinching the bridge of his nose (A childhood habit he had never grown out of) and prepared himself for the headache of a conversation that was surely about to ensue. Shit, he'd been trying his hardest to forget about that stupid 'ball'. "Personally, I would rather be disemboweled with a turkey carver than attend that piping hot pile of shit"
Gary rolled his eyes and replied dryly "Lovely imagery there, thank you."
"You're welcome"
"I don't get it" Gary began, slightly irritated "Why don't you wanna go? You're on that committee, alright?"
"That has nothing to do with actually wanting to go" Stan reminded him, ignoring Gary's look of derision "It's about college credit. The college counselor said that although my grades are sufficient, I'm lacking the extracurricular credit that colleges are looking for these days-"
"And who's fault is that?" Gary smirked, raising an eyebrow.
"Will you shut up?" Stan laughed, whipping the tinsel at Gary's hip "Look, I know I've kinda brought this on myself by not getting involved in any of that preppy, cliquey shit. But I don't intend on following this arrangement through by going to that pathetic Ball."
"Fine" Gary says, holding his hands up defensively and Stan hopes that they can move on from this conversation. "It's just that I don't think this disdain for the Ball has anything to do with your need to stay away from cliques."
"Really?" Stan asked, not really paying any attention.
"Yeah, I think it has something to do with your attitude towards Christmas"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Stan snaps.
"You just don't seem that into it, that's all..." Gary shrugs, biting back his laughter at Stan's distasteful gaze of the Christmas tree.
"I, I, well, I guess I don't get as excited for it as I did when I was a kid" Stan explains, albeit in an endearingly flustered way "But who does, right?"
The transition from child to adult is a difficult thing and it occurs with overwhelming realizations and premature losses that you grasp onto in vain. The magical gleam of Christmas is one of those heartbreaking losses. Feverish insomnia on Christmas Eve gets replaced by a good night's sleep, gifts shrouded in mystery now become desired objects sitting in closets and the whimsy of Santa's grottoes become cheap, mall displays starring people who are as mortal as you are.
Christmas was merely a time of cynicism for Stan. The first bout of Christmas snow melded with the dozens of other blizzards that occurred throughout the year, the charade of yuletide spirit became glaringly obvious and Stan went along with it, for everyone else's sake but it was getting harder. And it sucked. He didn't want to be a Grinch. But, sadly, the twinkle had sunk below the horizon like a followed star and Stan knew that it would take a miracle to get it back. Gone was the cheer, the childish, giddy excitement and, the biggest blow, gone were the cherished and eagerly anticipated Christmas adventures.
"Sure, Christmas is a different ball game now that we're adults or whatever" Gary smiled "But I still love it! I don't see how anybody couldn't..."
"You're right, things are different..." Stan sighs, shaking his head "It's just that... You haven't lived in South Park long enough, so maybe you wouldn't understand but this town is fucking crazy. And Kyle, Cartman, Kenny and I have always been in the middle of it, for some fucked up reason, usually it'd drive us insane, being involved, you know? But Christmas... Christmas time I didn't care what the Hell happened. I didn't care that we were put in the middle again because it just made Christmas all the more exciting, I can't explain it. They were adventures, our Christmas adventures. But now we're older and as we're getting older this town is becoming peaceful, ordinary and I like it that way. But what I wouldn't give for another adventure to wake up to on Christmas day..."
"Stan-" Gary begins, moving closer, reaching out for Stan's hand.
"It's stupid" Stan whispers, blushing and folding his arms over his chest. Tears pricked his eyes, hot and sore, nostalgia crawled up his throat, a horrible aftertaste and every Christmas related object in the Harrison's living room seemed hideous.
"No it's not" Gary reassured him, hugging Stan even though he remained rigid, his arms crushed against his chest. Pulling away, Gary played with a strand of Stan's jet black hair and sought entrance into those tumultuous, oceanic, Cobalt eyes. "Stan, there will always be a Christmas adventure. You just don't know what form it's gonna take. But, one thing's for sure, you're never gonna have one if you keep closing yourself off to opportunities and experiences just because you think you've lost something that can't be found. You haven't lost anything. And I know it may not seem like it and I know you're pretty much against the whole thing, but maybe there's an adventure waiting for you at the Ball? You'll never find out unless you open your mind. And if your Christmas adventure isn't there, you can at least say that you had a good time, right?"
Stan exhaled shakily before smiling dreamily and meeting the sweet toffee of Gary's eyes. "How can you date such a grumpy bastard?"
"Because so many things about you outshine that" Gary replied softly.
Their smiles turned into hungry, contemplative frowns, their eyes lowered to their lips and the air between the two boys became short and humid. The light in their eyes bursting wildly into dark, wanton flames, the taste of each other's mouths was maddening and as they began to invade the same heat and crisp electricity danced on the edge of their eager tongues, Gary gasped; "Wait, we need to kiss under mistletoe"
"Whatever you say" Stan smiled exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. Why did Gary feel the need to prolong this kiss with something so ridiculous? Stan guessed Gary was worth it.
"Here!" Gary beamed, picking up a dusty, weathered garland from one of the boxes, crudely labelled 'Christmas Stuff'
Stan giggled as Gary wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling Stan in while his other arm held the mistletoe above them.
"This is stupid-" Stan muttered before he was interrupted by a very jolly, Mormon kiss.
Kenny had never tried mulled wine before and although he was known for stealing budweisers out of the cooler in Stan's basement or some Pabst Blue Ribbon out of his dad's secret stash, he could say with certainty that this was an alcoholic beverage he wouldn't be drinking again.
"Do you like it?" Token asked, nudging Kenny in the hip with his foot as they lay top and tail on the chaise lounge in Token's parlor (Kenny assumed this was just a fancy name for "second living room").
"Sure" Kenny nodded, although the way he heaved after his first taste and the permanent wrinkle in his nose suggested, maybe not.
The two had been dating for three years and it was during a game of Spin the Bottle at Clyde's house in the ninth grade that the attraction between them was discovered. A five minute kiss with tongue. The girls whooped and swooned, the boys winced and watched uncomfortably. Kenny adored Token's nervousness and encouraged him to deepen the kiss, since he was actually quite good, in a modest kind of way, Kenny was enjoying the kiss and he wanted to reassure Token of that and that it was okay to kiss him back and admit to himself that he was enjoying this too. The attraction that Token felt towards Kenny in those five minutes was unbearable, unmatched, the experienced finesse of his lips and tongue, the silent confidence he held, was incredible. They had never spoken to each other before and ashamedly, after living in the same town for their entire lives, knew very little about one and other but they swore they could've felt something, that they had shared something intimate and personal and now nothing was sacred. They pulled away, a mutual arousal drawing them to each other. Token spent the rest of the night trailing after Kenny, plucking up the courage to ask him out on a date. Out of all the boys in this town to make Token question himself and fascinate him breathlessly, it had to be this quiet, mysterious, infamously private boy.
Token finally asked Kenny if he wanted to maybe go to a movie with him two weeks after the party. Stan, Kenny and Cartman had begrudgingly left the comfort of their basements behind to watch Kyle play basketball. Jimmy, Tweek, Craig and Token also happened to be there, supporting Clyde. Token made a beeline for Kenny once the game was over and tried not to sound too eager as he asked him out. Kenny was unsure at first, he thought it was some kind of childish, practical joke that Craig had set Token up to do following the events of Clyde's party. Token assured him that he was completely serious and that he was a nicer guy than that, he would never pretend to like someone for a joke. Kenny reluctantly agreed to go out with Token, ignoring his own disbelief that somebody was actually interested in him, especially someone like Token who could probably have any girl or guy he wanted.
"So what's new on the college front?" Kenny asked, setting his mulled wine down on the mahogany coffee table. Even the smell was nauseating him.
All Token had been talking about was college lately, Kenny wondered how long it would be before Stan, Kyle and Cartman started to talk about it too and pretty soon, Kenny would have nothing to say at all.
It's not that he wasn't smart enough, the college counselor told him that. His GPA was high enough that his prospects were looking good. She then started to reel off names of colleges that sounded so otherworldly and prestigious to Kenny that made him feel dizzy just entertaining the thought. But it was the money, Kenny would have to wipe down a lot of tables at Sizzler before he could even consider applying. Even though the college counselor tempted him with scholarships and financial support that some institutions were offering, Kenny was hesitant. He couldn't leave his parents and sister, like it or not, they needed him. No matter how proud of him they would be, he couldn't allow himself to behave so selfishly.
"Well, my parents convinced me that it's worth a shot applying to Yale" Token replies, taking a sip of his wine "But I decided to apply to the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena as well, it's the first school I've applied to on the west coast. At least that way visiting you will be somewhat easier."
"You're still gonna be with me by the time college rolls around?" Kenny asks, taken back, flinching at Token's faith in their relationship. God, Kenny wished he could be that sure too, he wanted to but he just couldn't let himself believe it.
"I'd like to think so" Token replies quietly, embarrassed and hurt. Though he tried not to be. Nevertheless, he was curious. "Do you think we'll still be together?"
"I want us to be" Kenny sighed, anxiously running his hand through his golden hair that fell, unflatteringly into his cerulean eyes. "Token, you gotta believe me, I really do. But the reality is, good stuff doesn't happen in this town, to people like us. And if it does it sure as Hell doesn't last forever. I never thought anybody could make me feel so wanted and happy and content with myself and I try not to think about how crazy it is that we're together, but how can I not? I mean, look at you! Everybody can fucking see that I'm punching well above my weight. You're smart and you're funny and you're kind and you're confident, so why are you slumming it with me? Because I'm not under any illusions, I am what I am and that's okay. I, I just, I just feel bad, like I'm holding you back or something, you know? And I figure that if I've already realized that, then it's only a matter of time before you realize it too..."
"Hey, let's get one thing straight, you're not holding me back, alright?" Token says strongly, sitting up and pulling Kenny up with him. Both of them sit with their legs crossed, Kenny can see the unwavering faith in Token's lavender eyes and it makes him feel a little better. "I hate it, how you don't know just how incredible you are, Kenny. Don't let anybody tell you any different, okay? To me, you'll always be perfect. The only thing I've realized in these past three years is how much I need you, I'd be fucking lost without you around."
Kenny smiles, blushing and squeezing Token's warm hand tighter.
"Although" Token whispers "Sometimes it does feel like you're trying to push me away..."
Kenny nodded, before taking a deep, shaky breath and saying "I'm sorry" He truly was. Kenny knew that he had a tendency to push people away, keep to himself but only because life is simpler that way. He didn't think that people actually realized he was doing this. "I guess I try my hardest to shut myself out from people because it's easier to stay at a distance than let myself forget the inevitable. Because eventually everyone's gonna disappear whether I want them to or not and I'm gonna be the last one standing. Being alone, totally alone like that, it terrifies me."
And although Token had no idea what the Hell Kenny was talking about, he did know that he would never leave Kenny. He'd be crazy to let somebody as wonderful as him go. "I'll try my damn hardest to always be here, Kenny. I promise."
"Even in Yale?" Kenny teases, biting his lip and pressing his forehead to Token's.
"Even in Yale" Token nods, grinning.
Kenny smiles sadly, his chest aching at Token's naïvety about everything. But glad that Token was willing to promise that to him. It was some consolation, he guessed.
"Thanks" Kenny whispers, letting Token kiss him (With way more confidence than that one three years ago). Token whimpered in surprise as Kenny pulled him down on top of him, repeating his promise to Kenny in his head, determined to make him believe it.
While Kenny let his insecurities slip through his fingers, not caring where they landed. Because Token was here and he loved him. And as far as Kenny was concerned, that was all that mattered.
A/N: Merry Christmas!