I skip breakfast and head home. I almost wreck the truck twice because, fuck, I'm hungover and can't concentrate and more than a little guilty. Pretty sure I just took Kyle's butt virginity and walked out.

I left my cellular in my room because fuck texts when I'm at a party. I check my phone first thing and have twelve, ten from Wendy, one from Kenny, and one from Kyle. Fifteen minutes ago. Not going to read that one first. I scroll through the previews of Wendy's and decide not to open any except the last one, which is her asking me to call her. I hit down and press send. Her number dials.

"Stan!" Chirpy fucking voice. Hits my head like a fucking chainsaw. Power drill? Not anything good.

"What's up?" I ask, always polite for her. I loved her first and longest. Actually, haven't ever loved any other girl. I can't be a dick now, I owe her that much.

"Nothing's up. I just wanted to know how your party was. Did you meet any girls?" My party? Ulterior motives? Never change, Wendy. I want to hurl my phone across the room.

"Mmm. Think I got about six girls pregnant and maybe the dog. Can humans fertilize animals?" She sighs. Like a mother. Kyle's mother more than my own.

"I guess I should know better than to call you right now," she says.

"I called you."

"I'll talk to you later, when you're in a better mood. Have a good nap, Mr. Grumpy." Talking right over me and then hanging up. It's weird. Wendy is such a smart kid but so fucking goddamn shithead stupid whenever she talks to me. I miss when we'd been together and she'd trusted me with her opinions. Smart opinions. The older she'd gotten, the more materialistic and simple she'd become, but never in front of me. Until April. Fuck that. Too bad I don't care enough to confront her about it.

I don't care at all about her right now. I can't get my mind off last night. Off Kyle. Off his pale white butt and thighs against the tan gained from years of soccer shorts. God. Why was I even finding this attractive? I don't like guys. Hairy legs. Stubble on his upper lip. Veiny dicks. None of this was grossing me out. Fuck! Well maybe the dick part. Vaginas didn't get me too excited either.

This was retarded. Just cause I'd gotten drunk. Fucked Kyle. Kyle. I was thinking about his body and not him. The guy who was my best friend and who probably hated me now. I read Kenny's text now. He'd gone to some chick's home and gotten laid. Needed a ride home. Nine hours ago. I don't really want to give a shit but I do. Have to find out he was okay. I call twice and leave a voicemail when he doesn't answer. I don't want to push it. Kenny could take care of himself and I want to call Kyle. No I don't. I want to read his text.

hey stan. how did burger king get dairy queen pregnant? he forgot to wrap his whopper. at least he didn't forget to not fuck his best friend, am i right? i'm right.

Well, what the fuck does that mean? A lame joke in the middle of some...shit.

I snap my phone shut and don't call Kyle. Doesn't sound like he wants me to. Not that I want to. I can go a day without talking to my friend. Even if it's a day after we had sex. I need to get the fuck over this. Tomorrow is Monday and we'll have to spend three hours and a lunch period together. Not counting work. So suck it the fuck up. "It" being how shitty the situation is. Not sexual, I swear.

I nap then eat then nap then piss and then check my phone again. Missed a call from Kenny and he texted to say he's fine but the gang's getting together at two. It's one. I can make it easily but I'm not sure if I want to. It could suck a fuck. It could be an easy way to struggle through awkwardness without really acknowledging it. I don't think Kyle will be a douche around Kenny and Cartman. I don't think he'll be a douche at all.

When I get to the arcade, the other three are already there. Kyle looks decidedly nervous. Eric looks fucking fat. I punch Kenny on the shoulder and he pinches my nipple through my shirt and I pull viciously on his hair and he knees me in the balls and now he's in a headlock. I hold him there for a few minutes as he struggles but release him when he looks like he's about to pass out.

"You win the battle but not the war, motherfucking commie." Kyle is watching us but Eric has already waddled off to play something. Kenny goes after him. He'll kick his ass in whatever game but I hate him cause now Kyle and I are alone.

"Pacman?" Kyle asks. Something classic, something safe.

"Only if you take Mrs. Pacman," I say. He grins and I'm struck by how good he looks. He's shed his hat and coat now that we're indoors and I see him as my lifelong best friend and also as a hot fucking kid. His carrot Jew fro and his muscular little body, stretched tight against an old Terrance and Phillips shirt. Fuck me for noticing and liking all this. I know it's post coital hormones, or I would if Kyle was a girl. Does gay sex release the same shit? I'm not sure and I'm not going to ask.

"No I won't marry you," he says and drops a quarter into the machine. He misses the look I try, and fail, not to give him.

"Sucks for you. That means you won't be getting this ass every night." And I'm joking, of course, the same shit we always say. But his smile flicks into uncertainty for half a second, half a second too long, and I'm thinking and remembering all bad things so I smile back when I really would rather bend him over the air hockey table -

Jesus Christ, Marsh. Shut up.

Pacman doesn't strictly allow competition but we compare scores anyway, and of course for every win he has, I get one. But he won first so by the time Kenny comes over and ends our match, Kyle gets declared the winner.

"You're a cheating whore," I say. Kenny has slung a friendly arm around Kyle. I don't like it. Cartman joins us now and suggests we get food. Of course he does. "We've only played one game."

"Maybe you fags did, but we've been here an hour and I'm bored as fuck. Let's go get some chicks." It's hard not to laugh at the image of Eric trying to pick up a girl. I've seen it enough that it's more a tweaked memory than a skilled imagination. Kenny doesn't have to go anywhere special to bone someone - he's already been eyeing this brunette for ten minutes. I don't really want to deal with sex right now. I hope Kyle doesn't. No. I don't give a fuck. His body, not mine. No relation to mine.

"I've got to piss," Kyle announces. Doesn't look at me but I think I know.

"Me too." We walk off but go outside instead of into the bathroom. It's really damn cold and neither of us grabbed our jackets. At least it hasn't snowed recently. We're due for some, from what the news said. What the fuck am I thinking.

Kyle leans against the wall and doesn't look at me. I can't look away from him. Hadn't realized his hair had gotten so damn long. Almost to his shoulders. Curly and red and feels really good when you're grabbing a fist of it, just so you know. So you're aware.

"Are we just gonna forget it?" Kyle says and sounds just a bit sad. I don't know why. He can't be gay. I'm not gay. Kyle's not either. We were drunk.

"Is there another option?" I ask.

"Come out as lovers and hold our head high amidst the insults," he says and is smiling now but I don't find it funny.

"It has nothing to do with other people. I just have nothing to come out about. Do you?" Kyle tilts his head up a little, looking at the clouds I guess, or maybe just anywhere other than my face.

"No," he says but it takes much too long for that word to come out. "It was just a drunken mistake." I feel relieved. Mostly. I ignore every other feeling I may or may not be having.

"Good fucking job," I say, hunching against the cold. "Let's go back inside."


A/N: Soooo let me rant for a second. Feel free to skip it if you don't care, it's not relevant to the story. And this is not in response to a review I got or anything like that, but I really really don't understand when people are against slash because the characters in SP (or any fandom, for that matter, because I've seen it in Harry Potter too) are clearly straight. It's, um, fanfiction. If I wanted something true to the cartoon, I would go to southparkstudios and watch episodes. Which, incidentally, I just started doing and hoooly shit the first episode sucks. Hahaha.