Kenneth McCormick was fucked up, and that was okay, because they loved him. He made off-color comments and did strange and uncomfortable things but he was always invited at the dinner table and welcome to a spot on the floor to sleep. He was loud and he snored and Kyle kept ear plugs in his dresser drawer because he couldn't fathom asking him to sleep anywhere else than on the couch cushions he dragged from the living room up to the bedroom. He was the most loyal friend he'd ever had and just as much his brother as Ike was.

So this was a bit irritating.

"Kenny, you can just SLEEP on the FLOOR like you do at least once a week!" Kyle insisted to the hooded, cloaked figure crouched on my window sill, letting a warm late summer breeze into the comfortably cool bedroom. Kyle rubbed his eyes and dragged a hand through his unruly hair, fingers snagging.

"I do not know of this 'Kenny' individual," came a gruff, patient voice from under the shadow of the hood. "I am Mysterion."

Kyle clicked his tongue. "Ken, you realize I was THERE, right? The whole time? As the Human Kite, with the lasers, pew pew pew?"

The dark figure of Mysterion swayed, and his booted feet dropped to the floor with a muffled thud. He listed off to one side. Kyle scowled, crossing over to the window and shutting it. He turned to watch the purple-clad teenager make his way to the bed, stumbling off to the side as he did so. He tripped as he made to lay down, and ended up with only his torso on the mattress, his limp and useless legs, covered with his cloak, causing him to slowly but surely slide to the floor.

"Are you drunk?" Kyle asked finally, unable to keep nagging disapproval out of his tone.

"Drugged," he corrected, his words slurring together. There was humor in his tone. Kyle realized he'd been slurring a bit when he was in the window, too, and moved to help him sit up.

"Drugged?" Kyle demanded, "What do you mean, drugged?"

The redhead rolled him over and he sat slumped against the bed. He pushed Kenny's hood back off of his golden head and looked into his pretty blue eyes, red and slitted, one shut, the other dull and blank. He wore a mask that tied behind his head. "I mean I was drugged, Kyle." This was in his normal tone, but then he cleared his throat. "I mean, citizen," he corrected himself in Mysterion's deep, gravely voice.

"By who?" Kyle demanded. Kenny's chapped lips curled into a smile, and his gloved hand came up to cup the redhead's cheek. He shook his head and let his hand drop.

"You are so pretty," he mumbled. "Totally worth it."

"Worth what?" Kyle asked, confused, but he shut his eyes and groaned.

"Just let me sleep," he mumbled, voice halfway between Kenny and Mysterion.

OoO

The next morning, Clyde Donovan rang the Broflovski residence doorbell at 8:30 in the morning. Kyle was awake, despite the fact that it was a Sunday and most people, including his parents, were asleep. He opened the door and glared up at his classmate, who looked impassive and greeted him cordially in his normal congested tone. "Good morning, Lady Broflovski."

Kyle blinked at him, wholly unamused, and then noticed his clothing. He was dressed shoddily like a knight, with cardboard armor and a long red craft store feather sticking out of his silver-spray painted cardboard helmet. Kyle groaned, placing his face in his hands and nearly collapsing. He was, thinking back, unsure of how he'd managed to become friends with the only high school seniors who still played dress up and games of pretend. One could kindly call it live action role play, but it was very involved—they could go weeks on end without breaking character. It was exhausting—and very fun, a small voice inside him said—and nearly always caused trouble. Cartman was usually responsible for the plot and it was never as wholesome as it could be.

Kyle casted his mind up to the happily snoring pile of purple cloth on my bedroom floor. "Would this have anything to do with Kenny coming to my bedroom last night drugged?"

Clyde's eyebrows drew together. "Drugged? The good robin-hooded Mysterion was only drunk, Lady Broflovski. He entered a duel to be allowed to compete for your hand, despite not being of royal blood." He drew himself up to his impressive six foot stature, puffing out his chest, and Kyle thought vaguely that he'd probably have a girlfriend if he wasn't still doing this stupid shit.

Kyle shook his head, bemused. "What calls you to my door, good sir?" he asked, resigning himself to playing along. "And why the hell am I Lady Broflovski?"

Clyde shrugged, breaking character to explain. "Wendy refused, and Nicole and Bebe didn't want to play, and we needed a fair maiden." Kyle blinked, wondering why exactly he was the next in line to be a fair maiden after the girls. Kenny usually was the one who played genderbent characters. Clyde's voice shifted to a stiff formal cadence as he continued. "The fair Lady Broflovski is invited to dine with her suitors at Lord Cartman's mansion today at 12:30. We eagerly await your arrival."

With that, Clyde turned, striding away with purpose, and Kyle watched after him, green eyes bright with curiosity. He wondered why Kenny had chosen to use his superhero to play a rogue, but suspected it was because of how sweet the costume was—it was much higher quality than most of the costumes we made. He'd stitched it together painstakingly in Home Ec last year and saved up for the boots and gloves for months. With the question mark removed, it wasn't a bad rogue costume either.

This reminded him that he would need a costume as well. He sighed, pulling out his phone to text Wendy about it. He assumed she'd know all about it. She was the only girl who still consistently played with them, the others only joining if they were crushing on one of the guys. Realizing that they were serious about the game usually turned them off, however, just leaving Wendy, who was honestly pretty and popular enough to get away with it. Privately, he thought that she enjoyed being "the girl" in the group, which he couldn't fault her for.

"Are you playing?" he texted her.

The response came quickly and he again wondered why everyone was up so early. "Warrior-Queen Wendabeth the second of Nott, at your service. Your dear mother & confidant, Princess Kyle." There was the kissy emoji with the heart eyes as well. Kyle rolled his eyes.

"I need a costume."

The response came quickly. "I'll come over with Sir Stan's sister's purity ball dress. Should fit, it's from when she was like 13."

Kyle's mouth dropped open at the insult. He knew that he was slight, but Wendy didn't need to throw it in his face like that.

"Meet me at Cartman's at 11:30 to get ready. I'll bring tights so you don't have to shave your legs 3"

Kyle rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone, pouring himself some coffee. He was thankful that it was summertime. This next year would be very busy with college applications and other such nonsense. Suddenly, his heart dropped, realizing that he was closing in on the end of his time playing these stupid games with his best friends. He suddenly felt guilty for not being excited for it, and decided to take it as seriously as usual. He was sure he'd miss it when he was gone.

He poured an extra cup for Kenny and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, sure that he would be dehydrated after last night. Kyle had not gone out to the party his friends were having at Token's because of a migraine—he now regretted it, because he knew what happened when you weren't there to fill out your own character sheet. It was always bad things.

Kenny shifted, moaning unhappily as Kyle entered the room and flicked on the lights.

"What have you gotten me involved with?" Kyle asked primly as Kenny shoved himself up off of the floor, cradling his head between his knees. The redhead bent to place the mug and the water near his feet.

Kenny opened the bottle gratefully and chugged it, some of the water trickling out of the corners of his mouth and down his stubbly jaw. He cleared his throat when he was done, looking like he felt better, and stood abruptly. "I really need to pee." he said apologetically as he speed walked out of the room. Kyle sat in his desk chair, sipping his own coffee with contentment. Light roast with milk. Perfection.

Ken came back after a while, his hood back up and his voice deepened. Kenny REALLY enjoyed being Mysterion. "Good Lady Broflovski!" he greeted me. It would seem he'd not yet committed to the character, though, because he sat back down on the pillow Kyle had shoved under his head last night. He had dark circles under his eyes and his voice was a little hoarse. He picked up his own coffee and sipped it before continuing. "I have entered into the competition for thy hand..." he chuckled boyishly as Kyle rolled his eyes. "You play a heterosexual cisgendered female human. We're all playing humans this time. Your mother is trying to quell the rebellion of one of her sub kingdoms by marrying her daughter—you—" Ken waggled his eyebrows at him, "—to one of the noblemen elected by Lord Cartman the 8th of Pleasantry Hills. I, however, am not a nobleman, just a common thief... stealing from the rich to give to the poor. But my eye!" he sighed dramatically, casting Kyle a wistful look. "It's been caught by the fair maiden, and by winning a drinking contest with the Warlord, I've earned the right to compete!"

Kyle rolled his eyes, momentarily forgetting his promise to himself to take the game seriously for the sake of holding on to his childhood. "Have you?" he asked dryly. Kenny looked oddly hurt, and Kyle smiled to try to communicate that he wasn't upset. Wasn't very upset, anyway. "What am I doing?"

Kenny considered his question, taking a long sip. "You're judging our performances in each task," he said after a moment. "Actually, I think that you're choosing the tasks as well.

Kyle made a thoughtful noise. It would be interesting to make his character's motivation a lack of desire to marry... clichè, but fun. "Who all is competing?"

Ken brightened. "Me! And Craig and Tweek are competing as a pair, and Token. Oh! And Stan."

Kyle frowned, confused. "What are Clyde and Butters doing then?" he asked.

Kenny frowned back, chewing his lower lip. It was rather cute. "I think Butters is your brother, or maybe your chambermaid? And Clyde is the overseer of the competition. Or something."

Kenny drained his coffee. "Very well, fair lady, I take my leave of you." He bowed, his composure suddenly serious. He drew very close to Kyle, leaning over him in his chair and causing his breath to hitch. "It wouldn't do for me to be caught with the fair lady before I've won the competition."

Kyle shivered, for a moment forgetting that he was not, in fact, a princess indulging a forbidden and stolen moment with a suitor. And then he blinked and Kenny was gone.

He glanced at the clock. It was a quarter after nine. He could eat breakfast, read for a bit, and take a shower before he was expected at Cartman's "mansion." He suspected that everyone was up early to set up props for the game.

OoO

Wow okay I proofread this and reuploaded it. Lots of POV changes to fix. I admit to drinking a bit last night. I'll repeat my previous author's note: hello! It's been a very long time and I'm a little embarrassed to break the silence with this nonsense, but I hope you enjoy it. It was loosely inspired by the Fractured But Whole. I kind of wish that Douchebag/Buttlord was a common character in SP fanfic, I think it'd be funny.

As always,

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