A/N: This fandom desperately needs some Clyle love, so here's a little bit of nonsensical fluff for two of my favorite babies.

On a Friday evening in the middle of winter, the Broflovski household was devoid of it's usual liveliness. Gerald and Sheila had gone to Denver to celebrate their anniversary for the weekend. Ike was staying over at a friend's house on the other side of town. Kyle, however, was in his bed with his back against the headboard and his knees pulled up to his chest as he watched his door. The bathroom was two rooms over, and aside from some faint rustling and crinkling sounds coming from whatever it was that Clyde was doing in there, it was painfully quiet.

Minutes passed, but Kyle was still left to wait. For a second he could have sworn he'd heard Clyde's breath hitch just the slightest bit, but it very well could have just been the scritch-scratch of the leaves from the branch that occasionally brushed up against his bedroom window on particularly windy nights like tonight. Regardless of what the noise actually was, Kyle couldn't help but crease his brows in worry for his boyfriend; he knew that Clyde was standing in front of the sink, staring himself down in the mirror with a scrutinizing eye, and Kyle didn't like it.

Before Kyle had the chance to decide whether or not he should get up and forcibly drag Clyde away from the bathroom mirror, he heard the bathroom door creak open and the quiet sound of hesitant footsteps, muted from the carpeted hall. Clyde reappeared in the doorway with his head down, his t-shirt and the fabric he usually had wrapped tight around his stomach having been abandoned in the bathroom. He held one hand over the left side of his lower stomach while the other shamefully covered his stark nakedness as he skirted around the front of the bed and burrowed his way beneath the blanket from what had become known over the past few months as his designated side. Kyle tried to get a good look at Clyde's exposed body but was denied not only by the covers, but also his bedside lamp that Clyde had suddenly decided should be turned off, leaving them in total darkness save for the small amount from the streetlamps outside that still managed to pour in through the thick curtains of Kyle's bedroom window.

Clyde pulled the blanket up to his chest and scooted over, a hesitant smile painted on his lips as he dipped down to place a chaste and seemingly-rushed kiss to Kyle's own. When Kyle didn't give much of a response to his affection, Clyde leaned over his boyfriend, resting most of his weight on his elbow and ultimately casing Kyle in beneath him as he gave Kyle a couple more hasty pecks. He began to trail down Kyle's neck when Kyle gently pushed him away.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"Turn the light back on," Kyle ordered. "I want to see you."

"But I'm right—"

"Clyde."

Kyle was aware that Clyde probably couldn't make out his stern expression too clearly in the dark, but he was certain that the no-nonsense tone of his voice got his point across just fine. Kyle watched as Clyde chewed his lip nervously for a moment before reaching over Kyle once more to click the lamp back on. This time however, before he could pull back and hide under the covers once more, Kyle grabbed the blanket and pushed it down to the small of Clyde's back as he was still hovering above him. Face to face like this, Kyle could practically see Clyde's cheeks begin to burn, until Clyde seemed to realize the predicament he was in and urgently backpedaled to settle down back on his side of the bed. Kyle never took his eyes off him.

"There, see?" Clyde muttered. Kyle continued to stare. Clyde must've felt he'd been on display long enough because he crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to hide his nipples that he was always complaining were weirdly larger than necessary thanks to the years of being chided by Cartman in the locker room after gym class. Regardless of the fact that Clyde's nipples were indeed a bit larger than usual, Kyle still didn't think it was a reasonable enough excuse for Clyde to always insist on wearing a shirt whenever things got even the slightest bit intimate between them; that, and how Clyde would swear up and down that his colostomy bag, "is super gross, probably," and that he didn't want to freak Kyle out, even though Kyle had definitely seen it plenty of times before in the locker room. Besides, Clyde usually switched it out for a more discreet cap sort of thing for moments like these, so Kyle really didn't see what the big deal was.

Kyle's hands shot up and wrapped around Clyde's thick wrists, pulling them away and pushing them down to his sides. "Stop that," Kyle demanded while looking Clyde up and down. He let go of one of Clyde's wrists to trace his thin fingers along the other's torso. Clyde was warm and soft, his shoulders covered in blemishes and chest scattered with beauty marks. A small tuft of coarse hair was sprouting right between his pecs, which faded off into nothingness until making a reappearance further down his stomach in a thick, unkempt trail. There was a deep scar that stretched across about five inches in length right above his public line and a few other smaller ones that were strategically placed around his navel. Kyle wanted nothing more than to push Clyde down flat against the mattress and kiss each one, but settled for letting his fingers carefully fall over the beige cap that kept his stoma neatly hidden away instead. He grinned a sort of thoughtful smile. "You're perfect, dude."

Clyde scowled. "No I'm not. I'm a mess, Kyle. Look at me," he whined, pulling away from the contact and motioning down at his maimed body. "I'm hideous."

"No you're not."

"Yes I—"

"No," Kyle said, then grabbed his self-deprecating boyfriend by the shoulders and pulled him down over him. He ran his fingers through Clyde's messy brown hair, falling down to cup his face on either side. He forced Clyde to look him in the eyes and rubbed the pads of his thumbs around in circles over the other's cheeks. Clyde was starting to tear up. "I said you're perfect."

"Kyle…"

"Perfect."