Disclaimer: I do not own South Park and due to my recent encounters with alcohol, this was in the works for a while.
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Stan Marsh looked around his room, mentally taking in everything he had set out for tonight. His parents were out at some fancy dinner party with nearly every other adult in town and he had the house to himself. Some new fad about mature wine tastings and rich expensive clothing had crossed South Park and his mother would not miss the opportunity, even if Randy was going to end the night off naked and plastered from trying every single bottle of wine available. Stan was at least glad that, when disaster struck, his mom would take Randy to a hotel instead of inflicting that sight on him.
Sheila and Gerald Broflovski were also attending the party, mostly because Sheila refused to be left out of the festivities and Gerald was obligated to follow his wife, so Stan's best friend Kyle Broflovski was spending the night over here. Stan had set up some video games, new DVD releases and had dug up a bottle of whiskey he'd stashed in the back of his closet after he'd caved to temptation and bought it nearly a month ago. His alcohol addiction was almost gone but there were times he couldn't resist and tonight was one of those nights.
Kyle had refused to touch a drop of alcohol since Stan had gotten shamelessly drunk and called him a piece of shit when they were ten. Now, ten years later, Kyle had only sipped on drinks others had bought and Stan believed his friend should lighten up a little. It was, after all, years ago that alcohol had been such a problem and Stan had leveled out a considerable amount since then. He had quite the tolerance and figured this bottle of whiskey would get Kyle drunk no problem and still have enough left to give Stan a nice buzz.
The doorbell rang and Stan started, midway through his count of movies on the bed. Kyle was early, as usual. The darker haired boy took the steps two at a time, fumbling on the last step and nearly slamming into the couch not far from him. Instead, he managed to throw a hand out and catch himself, taking a moment to blink stupidly at the carpet before righting himself properly just as another ring of the doorbell sounded.
"Coming." He called out, taking slower strides to the door and opening it up to find Kyle there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatshirt, hood resting precariously on his head with one earphone stuffed into the depths of his clothing while the other still belted out music in his ear.
"Hey, dude." Kyle said, tugging the bud from his ear and rifling around in his pockets to find his iPod.
Stan closed the door and let Kyle shed his sweatshirt, iPod still dangling its wires from one of the pockets as the red head tossed it over the back of the couch Stan had nearly attacked earlier.
"Took the bus?" Stan asked, rounding on his friend and smiling.
"Yeah. Ike's at his friend's house, some Jeremy kid, so I came over a little early." Kyle responded, smiling as well.
"You're always early." Stan raised an eyebrow.
Kyle acted offended. "Well forgive me for being prepared, I guess I was excited to spend some time with my best friend for once."
Stan gave a short laugh and sorted through his plan in his head while Kyle did his usual checks around the main living room and kitchen, as if he expected Sharon or Randy to be lurking away somewhere trying to invade on their time. The two friends hadn't had any alone time in the last month or so, too busy with the latest craze in South Park or Kenny landing himself in the hospital or even their siblings hovering around the houses, determined to be in the way of things.
It was one of the reasons Stan had tried so hard to prepare for this evening. When else would Kyle ever agree to drinking whiskey? Certainly not when anyone else was around. The red head was far too aware of the people around him, bordering on a social anxiety, and he was always on his best behavior. Unless, of course, Eric Cartman was involved, but Stan didn't want to have to resort to him just to get Kyle drinking.
It wasn't until Stan heard rustling in the kitchen that he realized he'd been standing in the living room for a couple minutes now and Kyle hadn't returned from his checks.
"Kyle?" He asked, turning around curiously and heading towards the noise.
"I'm hungry. I'm raiding your kitchen." Kyle answered back matter-of-factually, unfazed whatsoever as Stan entered the kitchen to find him ripping open a brand new box of pop tarts.
"Those are Shelly's." Stan commented absently, not really caring as his sister didn't really eat that stuff very often. It was for late nights when she got high that she snacked on things like pop tarts, but Stan had been sworn to secrecy after he'd found out his sister did drugs and therefore felt no obligation to save her pop tarts from his hungry best friend.
"So I thought we could watch some movies or something. I've got games-" Stan started, but Kyle cut him off.
"Do you have any games that aren't for Xbox?"
"Wha?"
"We've played almost every game there is for Xbox, don't you think we could play something else?" Kyle asked, shrugging his shoulders and drawing Stan's attention to the tighter than usual T-shirt with some clever nerdy slogan Stan didn't understand scrawled across the front. Kyle didn't often wear tight shirts, claiming his occasional use of skinny jeans was enough to last him a life time, so Stan frowned a bit and moved over to where his friend was debating whether to toast one or both of the pop tarts.
"We could play Who The Hell Dressed You Today?" Stan asked, picking at the shirt vaguely until Kyle's hand swatted his own away.
"Mom neglected to mention she was doing laundry today and took all my usual stuff while I had a shower." Kyle scowled at the sprinkles on the tart before tossing it into the second toasting slot to match the other.
"That bitch!" Stan said, over exaggerating his voice to a higher pitch for effect and smirked when he caught sight of a grin on Kyle's lips.
"Whatever, dude, so you got any regular games or what?" Kyle asked, leaning against the counter to wait.
Stan gave a non-committal shrug, shaking his head and saying, "I don't think so. I mean, we got Twister, but that's cos my mom and dad are total morons and use it when they get drunk."
"Your parents are weird." Kyle stated what Stan found to be utterly obvious and he returned with a wide eyed expression that clearly read "Duh".
After Kyle had finished messing around in the kitchen, Stan felt it was time to bring up his real plan.
"Hey, Kyle." He started and immediately he knew Kyle's walls were raising as his red headed friend gave him a withering look, but he continued anyway. "I was thinking that since our parents are off getting fine wine and the like, we could do the same. Just...instead of wine, it'd be whiskey cos that's all I got."
Stan expected a no, or some exaggerated sigh like Kyle always did when alcohol was brought up, but all his friend did was raise an eyebrow.
"Stan, you know I don't drink."
"I know, but it's one night. I'm the only one here and I'll only drink a bit. Enough to keep up with you!" Stan added as an afterthought, "Which won't be much, cos you don't drink and therefore have no tolerance and I'm going to shut up now."
"Great, so no tolerance means I'm going to be fucked up after a few sips, meanwhile my best friend gets to finish the bottle and get himself plastered and I won't be alert enough to help while he's puking in the bathroom." Kyle got all of this out in one breath and Stan flinched as the silence crept in after what was undoubtedly the truth about what he'd put Kyle through. The last part at least.
"I promise I'll stop drinking the minute you don't feel steady enough to take care of yourself. We don't get time alone like this...ever! And I know you won't do it in front of anyone else." Stan lay all his cards on the table and pouted, one look he knew Kyle usually fell for. "I just want to have a good time with you."
Kyle looked like he wanted to say something and honestly, he did. He wanted to get on his bitch train and ask Stan if he thought time with Kyle sober wasn't a good time. Wanted to ask if getting him drunk would prove anything, maybe a dare was placed or Stan really couldn't be sober and thought he had to get Kyle drunk before he could give in to his own addiction. But Kyle knew none of that would end well and he knew Stan well enough to predict all of the answers to his own questions so he simply rolled his eyes and said, "Fine."
Stan was floored. Did...did Kyle just give Stan permission to get him drunk? Huzzah! It had been the desired result, but to hear Kyle giving him the green light was still enough to break an irritatingly large grin over Stan's lips.
"Cool! So. We can grab some glasses, go upstairs and find a movie to drink to." Stan suggested, palms flat on the kitchen table as if this somehow finalized his idea.
Kyle scoffed and gave Stan a strange look.
"Dude, I am not drinking in your bedroom, that's fucking shady."
Stan couldn't resist chuckling a little at this and raised both of his eyebrows in what was supposed to be a terrible parody of the leer men gave women they were trying to impress and lowered his voice to a more seductive tone.
"What's wrong with my room? I think it'd be quite nice up there."
Kyle choked on a bite of pop tart and laughed out loud, a sound that made that stupid grin return to Stan's face right before he ducked out of the way of Kyle's punishment swat.
"We drink in the living room. All in all, the TV's bigger and we don't need to look suspicious with your parents out of the house." Kyle said, without any hint of question and Stan didn't argue. He was lucky enough that he got Kyle to agree to drinking, pushing the fact that Stan felt more comfortable drinking in his room wouldn't result in a better night.
"Fine. You get a couple glasses and I'll get the bottle. And movies. What do you feel like?" Stan asked, already making his way out of the kitchen.
"Horror. Give me something scary." Kyle said without looking up from his plate.
Stan was careful not to trip on the stairs again, collecting the things he needed from his room lazily. There was no need to rush, Kyle would probably settle himself on the couch and, if he was feeling particularly helpful, he'd turn on the TV and DVD player, setting the TV to the correct setting.
He felt a little bad at how excited he was to get Kyle drinking, but Stan justified it in his mind by reminding himself at how horrible he'd been to Kyle when he'd drank in the past. His guilt would restrict him and allow Kyle to be the main focus so his best friend wouldn't have to help him puke at all.
His footfalls on the stairs didn't muffle the shuffling of the couch and as Stan entered the living room, he saw Kyle fidgeting on the fabric of the seats.
"Didn't know you liked couch that much. If I'd known, I would have left you two alone longer." Stan teased, spreading the movies out on the table in front of Kyle while the red head scowled and stuck his tongue out at Stan.
"Couch here was just saying how you never visit her. It'd be such a shame to have you leave now, I think she likes you better. Most girls do." Kyle played along, albeit a bit spitefully and Stan waved the whiskey bottle in front of him.
"But I prefer you and that's all that matters." Stan said, pouring small amounts of the alcohol into each of the two glasses Kyle had brought out. It was clear which glass was whose as Kyle had placed his own glass almost directly against the edge of his plate, still holding one pop tart on its surface.
"That's it?" Kyle asked, looking skeptically at the miniscule amount, made even less impressive by the size of the glasses. Stan wished he had shot glasses, really, they would have worked much better but his mother had insisted no one in this house had an alcohol problem and shot glasses were for alcoholics. Stan didn't mention that he'd seen his mother chug alcohol straight from the bottle and saved his smart ass remark about not needing a shot glass because the bottle was much handier.
However, Stan knew Kyle didn't share bottles, not even the little soda cans they had gotten from the lunch room at school. Kyle had a thing against germs and it was ever present in his food and drinks.
"Trust me, dude, you don't want to take that too fast your first time. Take a sip, tell me what you think." Stan reasoned, knowing that his experience would be handy in training Kyle.
Kyle took the glass up and sniffed it absently. The scent of whiskey repelled him back and Kyle gave Stan a very offended look. Stan merely smiled and motioned for Kyle to take a sip from the glass.
"Smells like hell." Kyle complained bitterly before bracing himself and tipping the glass back. The look on Kyle's face was hilarious, but Stan fought not to react. He knew Kyle would be like this at first and needed him to keep drinking it he hoped for results.
"Tastes like hell!" Kyle followed up, making a face and holding the glass at almost an arms length away.
"Come on, it goes down alright." Stan said, sitting down on the couch beside the red head and watching as Kyle eyed the glass like it was going to bite him. Surprisingly, Kyle did not need motivation from Stan as he hesitantly raised the glass again and downed the bit left in the glass. This time, Stan could see Kyle visibly react with much more ease, swallowing it in one go instead of letting it linger on his tongue and the Jewish boy raised an eyebrow and put the glass back on the table.
"I guess if you drink it down right away, it's not supposed to taste as bad, huh?" Kyle asked, reaching up with one hand to touch his throat. "Still burns though."
"Yeah, it does that."
Stan reached for his glass and raised it in a form of silent cheers before tipping it back and swallowing it in one go. He'd had practice with shots and fancied himself rather good at them.
Kyle watched, almost curiously before turning his eyes to the movies and shifting them around to see the titles.
"This one." He picked one at random, The Grudge, and Stan laughed.
"You hate that movie." Stan said, cautiously reaching to pick it up and crack it open to get at the disc.
"I'm curious to see if it gets better when I'm drinking." Kyle said, a hint of a grin in place over his lips as he sat back and focused on the TV. Stan was pleased to see Kyle had indeed felt helpful and all he had to do was insert the disc and press play and the previews started.
The time passed slowly with Stan steadily filling up each of their glasses with slightly more alcohol, watching Kyle's face as he scowled less and less at the movie and instead watched it with fixated eyes, jumping visibly when the undead girl showed up on the screen.
"Kyle?" Stan started. "You feeling alright?" He had to ask, he couldn't tell levels of inebriation when all Kyle was doing was sitting on the couch with his legs tucked up to his chest and eyes on a television screen. He was used to drunken walking or dancing, slurred shouts of something unintelligible and perhaps even drunken cooking, as he'd done more than once with varied degrees of success.
"Yeah, why?" Kyle asked, his eyes focusing on Stan with a little difficulty. Stan could see a little haze in those eyes, a very tell tale sign being that Kyle couldn't keep his eyes still. He drifted from Stan to the wall behind him, dropping every so often for just a moment to the couch before glancing back up to see if Stan had noticed.
"No reason, dude." Stan said, smiling and reaching to take the glass with half of the alcohol Stan had put in it from their last refill from Kyle's hand. It had been resting against his friend's leg, Kyle's long fingers curled around it loosely and Stan feared Kyle might drop it unintentionally. Much to Stan's amusement, Kyle pulled the glass away from him and pouted childishly. Now Stan was sure the alcohol was taking effect.
"Don't spill it." Stan warned, withdrawing his hand and resting his elbow on the back of the couch, hand resting over Kyle's shoulder.
"I won't." Kyle snapped back, pointedly taking a sip, though his inebriation was making the alcohol taste funny and his facial expressions had become more animated again.
"You don't have to finish it, if you don't want to." Stan said it more to himself than anything, knowing Kyle would finish anything in front of him. That crust of pop tart left on his plate would not end up in the trash. Kyle would eat it later, even if he didn't like it, just for the sake of being polite.
The movie passed quicker than Stan remembered, his head a little fuzzy over the details and the credits rolled to the tune of Kyle slurping up the last remains of his drink. He grimaced at himself, knowing full well that he hated the sound people made when they slurped and he had just made that offensive sound himself. Stan, on the other hand, laughed because the sound had made him jump. Kyle hadn't said a word in the last ten minutes and Stan was beginning to think he'd fallen asleep. He'd moved his hand because Kyle's head kept lolling to the side and his curly hair, which was now much more tame than the wild mess he'd had in school, had irritated his hand to the point where his fingers would twitch randomly and Stan couldn't focus on the movie.
"Wanna watch another?" Stan asked, already moving to take the DVD out of the player. He staggered a little on his first few steps, legs uneasy after their rest on the couch.
"Got any music?" Kyle asked, seemingly ignoring Stan's question.
"Music? Yeah. My iPod's on the stereo if you want hook up the cables." Stan pointed to the stereo near the window.
The curtains were drawn and Stan was glad because as Kyle stood up, it was clear his friend was not used to whiskey. He seemed to sway upon standing, like he was on the ocean or something, and he seemed confused when he walked. His face was focused and he must have imagined he was doing quite well because his limbs moved casually as he connected the cables from the stereo to the iPod headphone piece. He missed the input mark twice before he successfully got it and Stan moved over to turn the volume down just in case the last person to use it had forgotten to. Kyle seemed surprised to see Stan right behind him, but Stan thought it was lucky because Kyle looked like he needed someone to steady him.
Stan caught Kyle by the shoulders, absently rubbing his fingers into the fabric in some lazy semblance of a massage while Kyle searched through the songs on his iPod. Kyle didn't seem to mind, humming occasionally as Stan worked, his eyes on the bright little screen.
"You have a lot of party music on here." Kyle mumbled, relaxing to Stan's fingers and the dark haired boy shrugged.
"I used to party a lot. It was all you heard in clubs." Stan explained.
Kyle made a face but didn't seem too opposed to the genre of music because he selected one of the various remixes and let it play, fiddling with the volume while Stan moved away from him to the table to pour another shot sized serving into the glasses. Stan was sure that this level of volume would have bothered the neighbors, had their been any around to complain. He knew for a fact that the neighbors were both part of this wine craze so he simply smiled as Kyle swayed in what was almost a dance back to the alcohol.
"S'not bad." Kyle said, his words combining into one. Another give away that he was feeling the alcohol. It would hit him now much better, with it working faster through his active system than it did while he was sitting down. His eyes appeared a bit heavy but he took his glass and drank from it, still moving in tune to the music.
Kyle had never been praised as a good dancer. In fact, the boy had been accused of having no rhythm and being unable to follow choreography. But in the high school years, when dancing had become a part of Physical Education, Kyle had thrown his all into learning and though he'd only mastered the art of square dancing, tango and waltz while in school, he had opened up to more genre's and had impressed everyone at the last party by joining in a dance with Kenny McCormick to some music oddly akin to club style. Kyle didn't party often, and never drank at them, but being friends with Kenny and avoiding parties was an impossible fantasy and the red head often found himself with invites.
Stan had learned how to dance quickly in the clubs, though most of it wasn't difficult. The right movement in the hips, enough knowledge of the lyrics and the occasional allowance for some shameless activity was all he had ever needed and the regulars at the club he used to frequent always rushed to meet him. Especially when the deal of the night was table top bar dancing for free drinks. Stan had only done this once or twice (that he could remember), but the bartender had taken to calling him sweetie and helping him down when he found he couldn't do it on his own steam.
So when Kyle started dancing to the song, a small smile on his face and his cheeks flushed with what Stan suspected was a combination of conscious embarrassment and the buzz from the whiskey, Stan clapped briefly and joined in. They started apart, very unlike how Stan was used to dancing at the clubs, but Kyle was getting warmed up and Stan could see that with every new sip of alcohol, new moves were being used in his dance. Not having nearly the same effect as the light weight red head, Stan felt consciously guilty as he found himself flushing with heat when he noticed Kyle's hips moving or the way he'd occasionally shake his head, causing the red waves in his hair to fall over his face, masking the heavy eyes that betrayed the alcohol's effects on Kyle.
It wasn't like Kyle was unattractive or anything, so Stan tried to justify himself with that. The years had been kind to Kyle, causing him to grow taller, but not quite taller than Stan. He'd fleshed out a bit, thanks to a better diet and his own hard work in gym class, but was by no means a muscular figure. He simply looked...healthy, and for a diabetic whose immune system was about a fragile as a tissue, healthy was a pretty good look for him. His hair had flattened out a bit, curling and waving absently about his head in a fashion that Stan had joked would look almost Goth if Kyle would let Stan flat iron his hair for him. Kyle had refused, not trusting something that heated up to that degree near his ears or face.
Only while Stan had been trying to justify checking Kyle out did he notice his friend's clothing. The almost too tight shirt had ridden up, as Stan would have suspected it'd do, revealing a strip of skin beneath Kyle's navel. The Jewish boy had insisted that any jeans that sat above his navel made him feel 80 years old, so he'd taken to wearing pants with a loose waist line and a belt if needed. Stan cut off all thoughts and looked away, turning to the side to dance so he wouldn't see Kyle as well.
It seemed that Kyle couldn't care less about what Stan wore or the way he danced, but the red head had been staring with what would have been visible effort, had his low jeans and ill fitting shirt hadn't stolen the attention, at the floor. Stan was a much better dancer and Kyle knew this, but Stan rarely danced at the parties Kenny invited them to. He would shift on the spot or absently sway, but not dance, and Kyle could never bring himself to go to the clubs for any reason other than to pick Stan up if he needed a sober companion to get him home. So watching Stan match the beats of the song almost perfectly, as if he'd learned the choreography from the singer themselves was damn near mesmerizing.
With the end of the song came the end of Kyle's drink and he took it upon himself to pour another. Perhaps a little too much, but Kyle merely frowned at the glass and kept taking sips, careful to keep them quick so he wouldn't have to deal with that ugly taste much.
Stan's hand found it's way to Kyle's drinking glass much faster than Kyle could keep up with and he barely had time to stammer out a protest before the drink was on the table and Stan's hand had replaced it. Taking both of Kyle's hands in his own, Stan pulled Kyle to him, initiating the type of dancing he usually did t the clubs. Partner dancing.
The song had switched to something else, slightly more upbeat than the first and Stan smiled at Kyle.
"Think you can keep up with me?" Stan joked, breaking their odd spell of awkwardly looking each other up with the first words not sung since the music started.
Kyle laughed and shook his head, a little more vigorously than he'd intended.
"Dude, you're awesome. I can't do that." Kyle protested this rather than the lack of drink.
Stan fanned himself with one hand, spinning Kyle with the other before tugging the red head close again.
"I am pretty good, huh?"
Kyle aimed his fist at Stan's ribs, but before it made contact, he stopped. Stan flinched regardless and Kyle beamed with a proud sort of grin, shifting in a way he no doubt had intended to be smug and arrogant, but it came off in a very different way to Stan. The flush of heat was back and Stan nearly let go of Kyle entirely. He knew that at this angle, with the music allowing them to still sway to the beat, letting go would result in Kyle falling over, so he kept his grip and forced out a smile as well.
"Just move with me. You're gonna have to pretend you're not the educated one out of us and just dance." Stan said, ignoring every better instinct that told him to back off and let Kyle do his own thing away from the hormonal best friend who had been checking him out moments ago.
A look crossed Kyle's face, reminiscent of confusion, before Kyle asked, "So basically uneducated is good dancing? Um...that sounds wrong. Like...if you're smart, you can't dance?"
Stan nearly laughed out loud at Kyle trying to string words together to convey his understanding of what Stan had said and he shook his head.
"No, but you've got to let loose. You're always so outstanding and clever, you forget to turn this off," Stan pointed to Kyle's temple, indicating his mind. "-and it makes it hard to just have fun like this."
"You think I'm outstanding?"
Trust Kyle to take away the least important part of that sentence. Stan rested his forehead against Kyle's and reached up to steady his friend's head with one hand, the other still clasped within one of Kyle's hands.
"That's not the point, but yes. You're my super best friend and you're outstanding but right now I'm asking you to dance like you're in a club and you're killing my buzz." Stan said, his words slow like he was explaining to a child, but in his current state, alcohol fueling his functions, Kyle didn't appear offended.
"Oh." Was the only thing Kyle said.
They lapsed into a comfortable dance together, foreheads still connected before the next song kicked in and Stan's eyes widened. It was one of his favorite songs, one he always danced to when it came on. He'd refused to show Kenny because drunk or not, he loved this song and Kenny would have abused the hell out of it trying to see Stan's club moves.
"Now dance." Stan said, pushing Kyle out to arms length, taking both of his hands again before moving the way he would normally. Uncensored, unrestrained, Stan began to get into the music, going so far as to force Kyle into some moves simply by tugging him close or spinning him around. Kyle laughed as though he had no fear, though Stan was aware it was because of the alcohol, and finally began to make up his own moves.
At first Kyle didn't know the beat and his moves were a little off time and uncoordinated. As it went on, Stan was pleased to see Kyle matching the tune better. His contentment with Kyle's progress was quickly overshadowed by guilt once more as Kyle gave in to one of the most dangerous types of drunk. What Kyle was doing with his hands was innocent, holding on to Stan as if to steady himself while he tried out a few moves, but what the rest of the red head's body was doing was far from matching.
Kyle had his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes lowered to watch Stan's feet to make sure he didn't step on them as he shifted and swayed, even going so far as to pull Stan to him instead of the other way around. Stan tried to see it as innocent, laughing and encouraging his friend out of simply fun, but it became a lot harder when Kyle's hands left his own and rested on Stan's shoulders. Then his hips. And his waist. Kyle's hands had rested, for the time being, against Stan's waist, fingers gripping the shirt to steady himself as he had done while their hands were joined.
The music slowed in the next song and Kyle yawned. Seeing this as an opportunity, Stan danced Kyle backwards, feeling awfully smooth about this before the back of Kyle's legs his the couch and Stan let his friend topple down over the object. As a testament to how the alcohol had effected him, Kyle didn't even complain, just rubbed his eyes with one hand and yawned again, tucking his legs up on the couch as well.
"You tired?" Stan tried to fill up the space with words, wanting more than anything for the heat in his body Kyle had created to dissipate. He wouldn't even sit down, not trusting himself to be too close to the red head just yet.
"A little." Kyle's response was muffled as he rested his cheek against his arm.
"You want me to get you a blanke-" Stan didn't get to finish before Kyle's hand found his arm and the dark haired boy scrambled to find safe positioning on the couch without crushing the friend who had foolishly pulled him without much thought to possibly getting a knee in somewhere unpleasant.
Safe positioning happened to be with Stan's legs on either side of Kyle's hips, one hand clumsily gripping in an almost painful position against the back of the couch and the other near Kyle's nose on the couch seat.
"Dude, I coulda crushed you." Stan scolded Kyle, though at this point he wasn't really mad. Kyle was drunk and very close to passing out. All he needed to do was take care of his friend, the way Kyle took care of him every time he'd been drunk and sleepy.
Kyle mumbled something incoherent and his eyes had fallen shut while Stan righted himself on the couch. Stan raised an eyebrow and was almost preparing to extract himself from the couch when Kyle suddenly turned his eyes on him with a foggy alertness that could only be the eyes of a drunk.
"Stan, do you want to kiss me?"
Every cell that created the being known as Stan Marsh froze in response to Kyle's words. At least that's what it felt like. Stan blinked stupidly at his friend for a moment before a strangled, "What?" escaped him.
"I just thought...you know, like Kenny does when he gets drunk?" Kyle said, vaguely.
Stan had to stop and think back to the last party. As Stan already knew, Kyle had never seen Stan drunk during the full swing of a party. Only at the last hours when he needed to go home. But everyone had seen Kenny drunk, from start to end, and the blonde had a strange habit of attacking anyone he saw while he was drunk. With his mouth. Everyone had been a victim, even Stan and Kyle had received sloppy kisses from Kenny, though the blonde quickly moved on from friends to hot female strangers who showed up as guests of friends instead.
"You think I get drunk and make out with people at clubs?" Stan asked cautiously.
Kyle lowered his eyes, though Stan wasn't sure what his friend was seeing at this point. After a pause, Kyle answered with an unconvincing, "No?"
Stan shook his head and the shock dissipated into a smile.
"I do not make out with strangers at clubs." Stan said, realizing that it didn't sound half as convincing now while he was straddling Kyle, but he meant it all the same.
Stan was almost a hundred percent positive Kyle was no longer the dominant thinker in his own head right now as the alcohol addled red head said, "But I'm not a stranger at a club."
Kyle's eyes had taken on the same hooded look they had while the boys had been dancing earlier and Stan almost ran out of the room. This was his best friend here. Super best friend. The best friend he had spent almost every day with since they were in pre-school. And now the super best friend whose lips were too dry and tasted like whiskey.
While Stan had been frozen to the spot, working out how best to defuse the bomb Kyle had put on the table before them, Kyle had taken over and wriggled his way up to press his lips to Stan's.
After a very ill timed pause, Stan came to his senses with the force of a car crash and lept back on the couch and away from Kyle. The red head blinked, confused at the lack of a body above him and looked at Stan with curious eyes. While Kyle worked himself up on to his knees on the couch, Stan tried to calm his heart beat. Not an easy feat as he watched Kyle absently lick his lips and the alcohol ridden part of Stan forced the thought 'I wonder if that helped' into his brain.
"Did I do it wrong?" Kyle asked, his voice not at all the curious and eager to learn tone he usually had when learning a new skill. It was low and down right seductive, no matter how unintentional it was.
Stan didn't mean to speak, he really didn't, but a high pitch and squeaky "No" came from his lips anyway.
Kyle mouthed the word Okay and his expression showed a mixture of disbelief and that scolding look he reserved for those who were being petulant without cause. He leaned forward, catching himself as his palms found the couch on either side of Stan's waist and he said, "Then let me try again."
"You're drunk." Stan managed to get out one sensible sentence in the mess inside his head.
"So?" Kyle asked, his matter-of-fact tone no different from his sober version. He lowered himself to Stan again and the dark haired boy nearly short circuited as Kyle's moistened lips found his own.
This wasn't right. Best friends didn't kiss. Not like this. But even as Stan fought through to find the sensible part of his brain, they were shutting down and fast. It was like the office closing for the night where the sections that told him that he should push Kyle away, insist on putting him to bed and then sleeping in a separate room himself were turning off the lights and leaving the paperwork to the night crew, which was heavily distorting the words 'put him to bed'.
It became tiring to fight and Stan found himself lazily accepting the kiss and even responding. This was going to be a shit storm he didn't want to tackle in the morning, but for right now, he'd blame it on the night crew. Kyle would have no idea what he meant but Stan stopped thinking altogether just before coming up with a suitable explanation.
All too suddenly it was morning. The lights hurt Stan's eyes, even through the curtains and he didn't bother moving from his position on the couch. He didn't want to move and his head was aching with a very dull pain that suggested he hadn't had a lot to drink last night which was good. He took stock of the one empty and one still filled with whiskey on the table and was proud that he remembered that Kyle hadn't finished a glass last night. It wasn't often he remembered much after drinking. A low groan and a very miserable demeanor caused him to focus on more than the table and he realized, with incredible shock, that he'd fallen asleep on top of Kyle.
"Dude, get off me before I hurl."
Stan didn't wait for a second warning and lept back on the couch, running his hand through his hair and trying to put two and two together. Kyle had tugged him onto the couch, he remembered that. And wasn't there something about Kyle over him...Kyle kissing him. Stan's face flushed with color though Kyle couldn't see as he was too busy writhing unpleasantly on the couch.
"Fuck, my head." Kyle complained. The bitch train was at full steam this morning and Stan listened at Kyle ranted weakly about everything from the light to the taste of alcohol on his tongue and the sight of the whiskey in the glass made him want to puke. Stan busied himself cleaning, wonder exactly how much of the night Kyle remembered. How much of the last memories were even real. The positions were wrong and neither of their clothes had been touched. So at least it hadn't gotten out of hand.
"Stan?" Kyle's voice from the couch was slightly different than before and Stan peered out from the kitchen where he was emptying out the glass Kyle hadn't finished.
Kyle had sat up, his hair messy and sticking up a little at the back from where he'd slept on it funny. He was blinking around the room sleepily and Stan couldn't help but laugh.
"Just a sec, Kyle." Stan called back, to which Kyle responded with, "Fuck, you don't have to shout."
Kyle drunk had been interesting. Kyle hungover was downright funny. Stan refilled the glass Kyle had chosen for himself with water and brought it out to his friend.
"Drink this, it'll help." He said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. "I'll get you some crackers later, it'll help your stomach."
Kyle seemed to inspect Stan for a moment before taking a sip of the water. A pleased look crossed his face.
"Good thing you know about this stuff." Kyle said quietly.
"You told me about the crackers, actually." Stan admitted. "You're good at taking care of hungover losers like me."
"So I'm now a hungover loser?" Kyle raised an eyebrow.
"No, sweetie, you're a hungover bitch." Stan corrected with a smile and a kiss to Kyle's forehead. The boy was a bit warm, but he had slept with another human being on top of him all night so Stan would wait to judge when Kyle had woken up a bit more.
Kyle cracked a smile and settled more comfortably on the couch with his glass of water.
"Did we dance last night?" Kyle asked.
The music hadn't been turned off, only muted, but Stan didn't remember waking up to do so. He often did things in a sleep that he couldn't remember so he didn't rule it out. His iPod was long dead.
"Yup." Stan nodded.
"Ugh. I bet I was shit." Kyle groaned again, his head falling against the back of the couch, though he seemed to immediately regret the action because he jerked his head back up and brought the water to his lips again.
"You weren't bad." Stan shrugged. "You did this crazy little sexy shuffle thing." He was lying on all counts save for the sexy, but he wouldn't confess that part as truth.
"Oh god!" Kyle nearly wailed, hiding his face behind the glass, which failed miserably due to it and the water inside of it being transparent.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, dude. You were fine." Stan laughed, patting Kyle on the shoulder. "What do you remember?" Stan's hand lingered on Kyle's shoulder, hoping above all hope that Kyle would not remember them kissing, or perhaps it had just been a figment of Stan's imagination.
"Um...well, I remember dancing. Movies."
"A movie." Stan corrected.
"Yeah. And then you fell asleep on me." Kyle finished. "Dude, you're heavy. Lose some weight."
Stan almost sighed with relief before he remembered that if it hadn't actually happened, he had just imagined his best friend kissing him. Instead he forced a laugh and said, "I don't base my weight on who I fall asleep on! You just have to get stronger!"
"Or drunker but if this is what a hangover feels like, please just kill me after the dancing, okay?" Kyle asked with a small smile.
"Not in a million years, buddy. Suffer with me, we'll know the pain together." Stan's tone took on the preacher vibe and Kyle stuck his tongue out.
"Well we've got some whiskey left, wanna do it again?" Stan asked. He wasn't entirely sure he was being honest with himself about wanting to drink again with Kyle.
"Fuck you, Stan." Kyle shook his head. "Not until I forget all about what a hangover feels like and then you'll have to trick me into it."
"Duly noted." Stan mimed making a note in a book and putting it away for later. Kyle just shook his head. Maybe next time, Stan thought to himself, I can introduce Kyle to chapstick.