Disclaimer: South Park and all its characters is copyright Matt Stone, Trey Parker, and whoever else owns it or whatever. That means, not me.

Authors Notes:

SLASH

BOYLOVE-SHOUNENAI

KYLExKENNY

If the above did not scare you, then you are welcome to continue reading.
Oh, and I've only gotten drunk once in my life. Okay, maybe twice. Maybe. Maybe three… Hell, who am I kidding, I'm Polish. We do shots each time something momentous happens; birthdays, weddings, weekends. Honestly. We're almost as bad as the Irish and the Germans, except we're like the Russians and we like our Vodka quick and burningly-painfully-good.

But, really, once I was really drunk, but I drank about 6 bottles of water and miraculously did not have a hangover the next morning. Of course, I also didn't wake up the next morning, considering I had stayed up all night and ended staying up for over 24 hours. I'm sure that helped.

But, anyways… what was the point again?

I don't know.

But hell, Imma gonna help bring sexy back with the kxk.

Title: Vanilla Blue
Author: Zoshi the Confused
Rating: PG-13 to M (eventually)
Category: South Park

Genre: General/Romance

Contains: (or will contain) Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing, SHOUNEN-AI - BOYLOVE

The ceiling above him was going in and out of focus, and wavering unsteadily. Kyle watched it in awe as it slowly began to spin one way, then another. His friend's voices were fading, then growing loud again, and he rolled his eyes to the sides to try to look at them. No luck. It might've been better if he'd actually try to move his head too, but damn, the ground was so comfortable. He just didn't feel like it.

"Duuude…" He said finally, "Dude, I'm so fucking drunk…"

Maniacal laughter burst out from his left, fading quickly into what sounded like wet giggles.

"Shut up ya freak…" Another voice broke out on his right, sounding more drunk than he felt.

"Allrigh', dudes, allrigh', listen…" Kyle felt footsteps on the floor, and he rolled over to look at Cartman as he attempted to sit on the couch. There was a loud thump as he totally missed it, followed by raucous laughter from the other three boys. "Shut up, hos! I'm seriously, guys, I'm seriously… like… like, I got it… its perp… per… perfect for you fags… All righ'? All righ'?

"Either spit it out or jus' shut yer fuckin' trap, ya fatass fucker…" Kenny drawled out from his spot by the TV stand. Kyle burst out laughing, curling up on himself. God, the drunker Kenny got, the more white trash he sounded.

"Whadjoo laffin' at, red? Huh? Djoo think som… somethin's funny or somethin'?"

Kyle just laughed harder.

"Shut up, fags! You fuckin'… fuckin' … fuck…" Cartman shook his head, gripping the ground tightly as the sudden movement threatened to make him tip over. "All righ', Its mah turn, righ'?"

"Git on wittit!" Kenny growled out, followed by a thump. Kyle pushed himself upright, tottering only slightly as he did. He could see Stan now, laying on the couch with his head hanging down off the seat. He was staring, glazed-eyed, at some point in the distance and snickering to himself. And, Kyle saw with wonder, he had a beer can balanced on his stomach. Fucking A, man. A fucking beer can balanced on his fucking stomach. Kyle was in awe, and stared at him for a while. Why couldn't he balance a beer can on his stomach? He put his hands to his own stomach, looking down at it angrily.

Well, stomach? Why? Why aren't you that cool, huh? He glared at it, poking a finger at it. You just have to be a total loser stomach, huh? You fucking loser…

"Listen, listen… all righ'? Listen…" Cartman said, and they all quieted down as he paused. The silence lengthened, and Cartman continued to stare at nothing with an intense look of concentration on his face.

"Dude… wha' the fuck we listenin' for?" Stan asked finally, turning his eyes to the other boy.

"Shhhh… all righ', all righ'… ya fags… I got it…" Cartman turned a triumphant smile at Kyle. As drunk as he was, Kyle was certain a smile like that could only bring trouble, and he frowned. Cartman. Happy. Bad. It was all he could think of right then.

"All righ', Jew boy! Po' boy! I hate you both!" Cartman said with glee, pausing again. There was an irritated snort from behind Kyle, and for a moment the boy thought that the TV had come to life, but then remembered that Kenny was behind him, still by the TV stand, presumably.

"No fuckin' sh-hit." Kenny slurred, and Kyle giggled. There wasn't anything to giggle about, but he did it anyway. It was fun, actually, and he giggled again, and again, finally ending up snorting and nearly falling over.

"That… that's not a dare… Car'man…" Stan said slowly, as if he was making a momentous observance. "That… I.. I don't think that is…"

"Shut up! All righ'? I'm seriously, I got… I got this ahh-ww-some idea… " Cartman cast a glare in Stan's general direction. "The… the people I fuckin' hate…"

"Me?" Kyle asked, patting his hair for no reason. His hat. Where was his hat? He cast a bleary-eyed gaze around the room. Hat, hat…

"Yeah, yeah… All righ'? You and po' boy? All righ'?" Cartman said, motioning to them. "The dare… You two.. Like, fuck… all righ'? You two're gonna… You're gonna like, suck face, all righ'?"

"Duuude…" Stan spoke up, waving an arm around aimlessly. "Duuude, that's like… that's… so, like, fuckin' gay… dude…"

Cartman turned a look of what he thought was extreme patience at Stan, but really it just made him look constipated.

"That's… that's… because they fuckin' are… all righ'? They're fags… you're a fag…" Cartman pointed at Stan as best he could with his arm waving around like that. "You're all f…f… fucking fags!"

"FUCK." Kenny's voice suddenly burst out, and Kyle found himself laying facedown on the floor. He pushed himself up slowly, looking at the floor curiously. I like you, mister floor. Seriously. But not like that, dude.

"So… like… wha… wha're… what're we doin'?" Kyle questioned no one in particular. There was a grumbling coming up behind him, and suddenly Kenny dropped onto the ground next to him. The blond fixed him with a critical gaze, an amazing feat considering he was weaving side to side even while sitting on the floor.

"Kayl…" Kenny said, putting a hand on the other boy's shoulder to steady himself. "Kayl… 're you a gurl?"

Kyle blinked, considering the question. He put his hands on his chest, feeling. Nope, no boobs. He dropped his hands to his pants. Ah, all right then. He knew the answer.

"No." He said, grinning. Yes, he was going to ace this exam.

"You… you shur?" Kenny slurred, still eyeing him suspiciously. "You shur yer not a gurl?"

"T… totally…" Kyle nodded his head. He kept nodding for a while, but had to stop finally because everything around him was getting whirly again.

"Eh, fags! You gonna do it?" Cartman yelled at them, laughing. Stan joined in the laughing, and Kyle glared, but he forgot to turn his head and ended up glaring at Kenny. The blond glared back.

"Whodaya thin' yer glaring' at, bitch?" Kenny slurred.

"Stan." Kyle replied, confused.

"I'm not Stan…" Kenny said, then poked Kyle in the forehead, realized he aimed too high, and fixed that by almost poking him in the eye, realized he missed again, and gave up as he continued. "Ya need yer glasses, boy, yer blaind wit'ou' 'em…"
"Dude…" Kyle said, finally getting around to realizing that the blond had poked him in the face. "Dude.'

"You keep stallin', I ain't gonna bring any mor' beer down, all righ'? All righ'?" Cartman threatened.

"Fuck, I think he's ser… seri.. Seris…fuck… I think he means it…" Stan gurgled as he attempted to drink the rest of his beer while still laying upside down on the couch.

Kyle blinked in confusion, still looking at Kenny. Kenny had blue eyes. Wow. Like, totally blue.

Wow.

"Fuck this shi-it, I need booooze…" Kenny wobbled a little, then grabbed Kyle by the back of the head and pulled him close. Piss drunk as he was, he still managed to be right on target, not that that was any surprise. This was Kenny, after all.

Kyle didn't react at first, confused even more by the fact that Kenny's lips were on his. Then Cartman's dare, finishing its first lap around his mind, came back to him, and his confusion faded. Oh. And there was a good chance he would've just sat there and rode it out, if not for the fact that he realized that Kenny had kissed him first.

Fuck. Kyle realized that, by letting another guy kiss him fist, his very manliness as a man was at stake.

Well, well fuck that! There was no way he was letting any guy out-man him. Angry, Kyle decided to do what any guy in his place would do.

He kissed back.

Fuck, no. He dominated the kiss back. He totally fucking rocked the kiss back.

Kenny grunted in surprise, but didn't pull back at the assault.

Ha! Thought Kyle, Ha! Who's the fucking bitch now?

He was, apparently, because not long after he'd begun his assault, Kenny upped the ante and stuck his tongue in his mouth.

Oh, so that's how you're gonna play, huh? Kyle thought, determined to be no worse, and stuck his tongue right on into Kenny's mouth. Oh yeah, two can play this game.

Somewhere in the background he could hear Stan ask Cartman how long this was supposed to go on, but he didn't really pay attention to it. There were more important things going on, here.

He was locked in a fucking epic battle, here.

He didn't know what the battle was about, but he was sure it must've been about something important, considering the fact that he now was all out tongue-wrestling with Kenny. The blond was putting up a good fight, but Kyle thought he as gaining a winning edge.

He wondered, suddenly, if ashtrays tasty as gaggingly-smoky as Kenny's mouth. For real, he could barely taste any beer, and he knew Kenny had knocked down more cans than all the rest of them put together. It was interesting, how much does a person have to smoke before the smokiness beats out the beer taste? He decided he'd ask Kenny later, at a time when their mouths weren't so occupied by each other.

Funny, he hadn't noticed when his hand had made it to Kenny's head, but now his fingers were twisting in the others boy's hair. It really wasn't as greasy as Kyle had thought it would be.

He gripped his hand in that hair and adjusted his position. Kenny was giving in, it seemed. Not pulling back, just complying more readily to the way Kyle's lips and tongue were moving.

Fuck yeah, who's the bitch now? Kyle thought, You're the bitch, that's right.

He felt a strange thrill run through him as he renewed his assault. Sure, he was getting a little tired, and the lack of air was becoming a pain, but hell, he wasn't going to stop until Kenny was totally, and completely, dominated.

Hell yeah.

It actually didn't take long for him to accomplish his goal. Not long after Kyle began his second assault, the blond began to take more than give. Kyle found himself being the aggressor, still holding on to the blond's hair with an iron grip. It was totally unnecessary, as Kenny wasn't showing any signs of pulling back anytime soon. Kyle realized that he'd accomplished his mission, whatever that had been, but, honestly, he didn't feel like stopping either.

Weird.

Air loss finally got the best of them, and the two boys pulled away, wheezing and gasping noisily as they stared at each other. Kenny looked up at Kyle with dazed eyes, and Kyle was surprised to find that he'd unconsciously sat on the other boy, and that they were half-laying on the floor, with Kenny's bent arms being their sole support. They stared at each other some more, thoughts moving sluggishly in their heads.

"Dude….fuck… dude, you taste like shit…" Kyle said finally, moving back off of the blond. Kenny just collapsed on the floor, still wheezing slightly.

"Yah.. Yah, well… so're you…" Kenny slurred, apparently too tired to focus more on what to say. Or maybe all that air loss gave him some brain damage.

"All right, Car'man, beer!" Stan said, twisting off the couch. He landed on the floor with a loud 'oof!' and lay there for a moment to let the world stop spinning so much.

Cartman ignored him, laughing wildly in his seat by the couch. Kyle glared at him blearily, then stood up on shaky legs and wobbled his way over to Stan. He nudged his friend with his shoe, eliciting a grunt.

"Dude, beer." Kyle said, trying to keep steady on his feet. Stan rolled onto his back and held up his arms, and Kyle frowned at them, confused.

"…pull me up, dude…" Stan wiggled his hands, and after moment of thought Kyle complied. There was a second when they almost fell onto one another, but then they were both standing, and, using each other as crutches, they wobbled their way to the stairs that led out of the basement.

"Dude… that was, like… like, it was… fucking… yeah… like, it was fucking awesome…" Stan laughed, and Kyle joined in.

Whatever.

Damn, they were drunk.

"Kie-yole! Get up! You'll be late for school! And on the first day, too…"

Kyle groaned, holding his pillow over his head. For some strange reason, his headphones were on and his iPod was blasting music in his ears. Not a good thing when you had a headache the size of Texas, and the beginning signs of nausea that would certainly be sending you to the bathroom soon.

Fucking hangover.

He tossed the pillow off of his head, glancing around his room blearily. His eyes felt crusty, and his mouth tasted weird. Gah, he stuck his tongue out and grimaced. He dug around the bed for a while, without moving from his laying-on-stomach position, before finding his iPod buried under the covers somewhere around his thighs. He grunted, pulling it out and almost choking himself on the cord as it tightened around his neck. Disentangling himself meant having to move, and that meant moving slowly so his stomach wouldn't protest before he was ready to make the mad dash to the bathroom. For a moment his mind found itself focused on the words blaring into his ears before he powered the iPod off.

…that's why I call you… my sweet vanilla blue…

He frowned, memories of the last night and the dreams after coming back to him. Not that he really remembered much. Truthfully, it was all just hazy images and sounds and weird stuff like that. His dreams were just as strange, and all he could get out of them was blond and blue, and the strong taste of smoke and ash. He grimaced; his tongue felt all velvet-like fuzzy, and he stuck it out and licked his pillow in an effort to get rid of the feeling. Wrong move, he realized, and found himself slapping a hand to his mouth.

Fuck. And Stan was supposed to be the one with the weak stomach.

He groaned inwardly, ripping the headphones off his head and stumbling out his door and down the hallway to the bathroom. Slamming the door behind him, he managed to make it to the toilet before his stomach revolted.

Oh yes. A wonderful start to his junior year.

He should remember to thank Cartman later. Thank him very nicely.