A/N: I'm thinkin' most of these chapters are gonna be in the 2,500-3,000 range. Thinkin'. Doesn't mean that's what's gonna happen because I'm sure the fun chapters will be longer because you can't skimp on Kyle torture that's just not how life works.
Enjoy~
Kyle couldn't help but pout, stuck in the middle of Wendy and Bebe gossiping like crazy over what had transpired since they'd last seen each other over the summer. He let out a long sigh, looking back at his stovetop, watching his array of burger patties sizzling and popping grease about as they rested in the skillets skillfully maneuvered to fit on all four burners.
"-le?!" a voice shrieked.
He shot his head over to see the girls staring at him impatiently. "Sorry, what?"
Wendy rolled her eyes, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "I asked you what else needs done." She flicked his forehead and he grimaced at her a bit.
"I already have everything going," he said tiredly. "Fries are in, those blockheads have all the chips and shit," he waved towards the living room, wincing at a large cheer coming from the group of guys residing on the couch and folding chairs.
Bebe snorted, standing beside him and elbowing his waist. "You know, you don't have to stay in here with the womenfolk," she gestured to herself and Wendy.
He smirked, "Well it's my kitchen for one thing, and I really couldn't give two shits about football," he rolled his eyes.
"Then tell Kenny not to watch here," Wendy suggested.
"Okay, no matter where he watches, I'm going to end up being dragged along," he said dryly. "At least here I have an escape with an excuse that isn't that I randomly spawned a vagina," he scoffed. The girls broke into laughter and he shook his head. "Laugh all you want but being a guy who can cook is fucking brutal," he complained.
"Mm, yeah, but I get a tasty treat watching you bend over to get stuff out of the oven," a voice popped from the archway. They looked to see Kenny standing with a lecherous grin and Kyle rolled his eyes again.
"Please tell me that means your little ballfest is over," he pleaded.
He snorted with a wink, "My ballfest ain't ever over, Babe." He walked over, getting between him and Wendy and smiling down at the redhead. "First quarter just ended."
"Oh my goooodddd," he leaned his head back and groaned.
Kenny chuckled, throwing his arm over his shoulders and kissing his head lightly. "If it's that much torture...you can always go to the store and get stuff for nachos?" he batted his lashes hopefully.
"I fucking made nachos," he protested.
"They're gone," he shrugged. "Ky, we got like a thousand people over."
"...It's you, Stan, Fatass, and Butters," he said dryly. He paused and shrugged a bit, "Okay, I guess Fatass constitutes as 997 mouths when I think about it."
"Plus Craig and the guys are comin," he added. "Not to mention you three lovely ladies haven't eaten," he waved to the group.
Kyle grunted, slamming his elbow into Kenny's side and watching him double over primly. "Next time I'll aim lower," he warned.
"Duly noted," he rasped. Kyle sighed, stepping out of his hold and grabbing his spatula, flipping over his patties and staring at the meat changing color with dulled green eyes. This was the exact opposite of how he wanted to spend a Saturday. Kenny stepped up behind him as he took a long breath, shuddering at the smell and resting his head down on Kyle's shoulder. "We need a grill," he commented.
Kyle scoffed, "So you can make me cook outside, too? Where else would you like me to prepare your feasts, Your Majesty?"
Kenny backed up a bit and blinked at him, "Are you mad at me?"
"No," he bit sharply. "Just didn't think I'd be stuck in the house all day. Again," he glared at him shadily.
"You said you were okay with this!" he whined.
Kyle sighed irritably, knowing it was true, but still. "Why can't you just order pizza when you do this?" he asked tiredly.
"Because you cook awesome stuff and you like to have an excuse to not watch the game," he countered, wrapping his arms around his waist. "And don't even pretend you don't love the compliments."
Kyle blushed, looking back to see Bebe and Wendy staring at them amusedly. "Get off of me!" he hissed, slapping his hands back listlessly against the blonde head. He herded Kenny back away from him and turned around, crossing his arms firmly. "I am not your personal chef."
He raised his brow, "I never said you were."
"You just asked me to go recreate a fucking dish I already goddamn made!" he snapped.
"Boys, boys," Bebe chuckled, stepping up and putting her hands between them. "Ken, be nice."
"I'm always nice," he pouted. His face fell pathetically as Kyle spat out a sarcastic laugh at the notion.
"Kyle," Bebe raised her brow, "You said it was okay, you agreed to make the food, Honey."
He shot her a sharp look before sighing tiredly. "Whatever. Fine. Nachos." He muttered. "But that means someone else is in charge of this," he gestured to the stove.
"We got it, Sweetie," Wendy reassured him, patting his shoulder. "Just tell us-" she paused as a knock erupted on the kitchen door.
Kenny smirked, kissing Kyle's cheek. "Our esteemed guests have arrived."
"Unless you invited someone outside of Craig and his little gang I'm inclined to disagree," Kyle chuckled as he walked past, shrugging apologetically as Bebe punched his arm.
Ken whipped open the door, finding the group of four standing there and stepped aside, gesturing into the house. "Me casa es su casa," he said dramatically.
"Bitch, it's half my casa, too," Kyle raised his brow. "I ain't gotta share." Kenny snorted, closing the door as Tweek brought up the rear into the kitchen.
Token made a beeline for Bebe, leaning down and kissing her briskly, "Hey," he said sheepishly.
"Hey yourself," she grinned. "How was your little adventure?"
"Craig's got himself a barn," Clyde smirked, grabbing a piece of bacon from the counter and chomping away on it. "Looks like the fucking Texas Chainsaw Massacre could happen in there."
Kenny looked at the disinterested noirette and grinned, "Dude, nice. Gonna make yourself a little happy home?"
He shrugged, "Well, a home I guess."
Kyle looked at him for a moment and twisted his lips a bit, "Sorry about your grandparents, Craig."
Grey eyes locked in his and an unpleasant shudder ran down Kyle's spine at the intensity hiding under the monotonous hue. "Shit happens," he said plainly.
He cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded, "Yeah, I guess..." he looked at Wendy and sighed. "Okay, burgers up to 165, fries have about ten more minutes," he instructed. He walked past the group crowding his kitchen to the keyhook, snagging his car keys. "Ken, are either of our cars unblocked?"
Kenny shook his head, "Nah, I'll go tell Stan and Fatass to move and you can take the truck."
"Where're you going?" Tweek asked, trying to figure out their coffeepot.
Kyle chuckled a bit, "Ken, help him out," he gestured to the fidgety blonde. "I need to run to the store because someone needs goddamn nachos," he raised his brow at his brightly grinning boyfriend.
"I can take you," a soft, flat voice entered the space.
Kyle whipped around at Craig who was staring at him, looking almost bored to death with the notion. "Dude, you don't have to, it's fin-"
"I need to get some food for Argyle anyway."
"The fuck kind of pussy name is Argyle?" Kenny laughed. He simmered down into stifled giggles with a sharp glare from the noirette.
"Come on, Broflovski," he muttered, turning on his heel and grabbing his keys back out of his pocket. He headed out the door and the remainder watched after him practically storming his way back to the truck.
Clyde raised his brow, "Dude, you know not to make fun of his stupid rodents."
Kenny shrugged casually, leaning down and kissing Kyle again. "Have fun," he said cheekily.
"Oh. Yeah. I'm sure it'll be a barrel full of laughs with him," he said dryly, checking for his wallet before kissing Kenny back and heading out the door. He stepped out into the sunshine, a content sigh escaping his lips. Free from the tiny cramped space of his location of servitude, he felt as though he could breathe again. Cooking for a lot of people was one thing. Cooking for a lot of people while they were all crowded around your already tight-quarters kitchen was on a completely different plane of awful. He glanced up to see Craig in his truck, waiting impatiently with the engine running. Kyle picked up a brisk jog and made his way over to the truck, grimacing as he realized it was taller than Kenny's. He opened the passenger door and grunted, grabbing the handle bar and clumsily using the running bar to propel himself upwards.
"Tweek makes it in just fine and he's only a little taller than you," Craig commented casually.
"Shuddup," he snapped, finally making it up into the seat and closing the door behind him. He took a long breath, barely able to click his seatbelt over himself as Craig sped back onto the road. He gulped, grabbing onto the side of the console nervously. He never liked being the passenger, even for Kenny. Being out of the realm of control in a four ton death machine careening over asphalt never boded well for him. He'd had to train himself to stop yelling in panic at obstacles he thought would take them out when Kenny would drive them around, since his frenzy was more often more dangerous than whatever he saw. He looked up at Craig, seeing his grey eyes set firmly on the road and breathed a small sigh of relief. At least he was focused.
"Calm the fuck down," Craig said, never looking towards him. "Unless a semi hits us, you're fine."
"Don't say that," he said meekly, green gaze scanning methodically for said semis.
Craig scoffed, "I knew you were a pussy, but Jesus fucking Christ, Broflovski."
Kyle shot him a sharp glare, "I'm not a pussy. Excuse me for not wanting to be crushed to death, especially since the last person I'd see would be you," he crossed his arms, staring out the windshield with a firm pout on his lips.
"I doubt you'd mind it too much," he said nonchalantly. "Me being the last and all."
He scoffed, "Excuse me? What, you think you're my fucking idol or something, Tucker?"
Craig rolled his eyes, "No, but I'm not Cartman, so there's that at least," he shrugged dismissively.
Kyle blinked before nodding a bit, "Okay, point taken." He sighed, leaning back into the seat and trying to force his nervous body to relax. "So, how's the house?" he asked softly.
He shrugged again, "It's a house. Only thing left is a chair."
"Well...better than nothing?" he winced. Craig just gave a curt nod and the redhead sighed quietly to himself, running his fingers through his curls uneasily. He always felt like this around Craig, tensed and unable to keep a conversation going. He didn't mind so much in high school when he only had a handful of classes with him, but when Kenny started becoming closer friends to the guy, he'd been forced into many a situation where he was stuck alone in a room with the black-haired bore. He still didn't know what Kenny saw in him, why he was so casual and happy to have his company, especially considering the blonde's bouncing personality. Kyle grimaced to himself. He could just as easily ask the same question as to why Kenny found him so appealing as well. But at least Kyle could hold a topic and occasionally give a goddamn smile. Craig's walls went up far too fast to get anything more than a sarcastic quip now and again.
"How much do you and McCormick pay for your house?" Craig asked suddenly, the redhead nearly jolting in shock at the sudden noise.
"Huh?" he raised his brow.
He growled under his breath, hating to repeat himself. "Your house. How much do you and McCormick pay?"
Kyle blinked and raised his brow. "Uh, well, it's a rental. It's $760 a month." He rolled his eyes, "It's about to get bumped up though because Kenny is insisting on a dog," he scoffed. "So it'll probably be around $790. Why?" he questioned.
"Just curious," he murmured. "How do you afford it?"
"Uh, jobs?" he looked at him like he was stupid. "Ken makes plenty at the shop and I'm making our extra money at the office," he waved his hand dismissively.
"Extra?" he repeated.
Kyle nodded slowly, "Yeah. His job covers rent and food and shit. Mine is for all the other stuff," he shrugged.
"So then why are you working if you don't need to be?"
Kyle blinked, confused at the turn of routine that this trip was taking. The last time he and Craig had talked this long was when Kenny pissed both of them off at once, and even that didn't seem to be as drawn out as this one. "Because I go fucking crazy if I don't have something to do," he elaborated slowly. "Besides, I don't like not making my own money," he shrugged. "Ken and I share an account but still...I don't like living off of someone else's dime."
"Earning your keep then?" Craig asked as they pulled into the grocery parking lot.
The redhead took a deep breath, undoing his seatbelt and starting to climb out of the truck, nearly toppling as he forgot how high up he was. He shakily planted his feet on the pavement and looked to see Craig staring at him in that intense way again, another chill running down his spine. He coughed a bit awkwardly and ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm not 'earning my keep'," he retorted dryly as he found his nerve again. "I'm working with my boyfriend so we have a life," he said primly, walking towards the store. He felt Craig walking next to him, his body heat blaring in a brisk chill of wind. He refused to look at him, keeping his gaze locked firmly on the approaching store.
Craig watched him curiously, the way his arms were firmly crossed aside from the occasional break to push his bangs out of his eyes. His entire body seemed taut and uncomfortable. A tiny smirk played on the noirette's lips as they entered the store, Kyle turning and making a beeline for the dairy section. Craig followed close behind, Kyle feeling his eyes locked on the back of his head. Green irises stayed on the floor, wishing he'd just taken Stan's car to get here.
Kyle snagged a basket from beside an endcap, making his way into the cheeses and throwing blocks of different varieties into his holder. Craig raised his brow, "Just get fucking shredded," he said blandly.
The redhead scoffed, "I don't half-ass shit, Craig," he muttered.
"Living up to your full potential as a housewife?" he taunted.
The boy's head snapped over and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Fuck off," he hissed, slamming a block of pepperjack down into the basket and storming off towards the back of the store. Craig watched after him, smirking once again as he followed, finding Kyle standing at the meat case, picking up different packages of ground hamburger and checking the fat content.
He rolled his eyes at the concentration set on Kyle's face, "Just get the cheapest."
Kyle flickered his eyes to him and frowned again, "No. You don't go for the low grade shit. If you can fucking afford to get the higher quality of food, you do it," he raised his brow. "The less fat to drain the better."
"Why?" he asked dully.
Kyle rolled his eyes, wondering why he was even asking if he was going to adapt such an uninterested tone about it. "Because the more fat to drain, the less taste," he explained, throwing a 90%-er into the basket. "The more you have to take away from it, the less you're left with."
He turned on his heel, hurrying towards the chip aisle and just wanting to get back home. Craig stared at him as he bent over, grabbing a couple bags of tortilla chips and examining them closely. He nodded to himself, letting his eyes trace over the outline of the redhead's body. Silently under the bustle of the store a murmur floated aimlessly into the air, "I'll keep that in mind."
A/N: I would say this shouldn't be a long story. But every time I say that it turns into 100,000+ words because I'm a masochist through and through.
Dammit Craig stop ogling people in the grocery store it's not nice.
Also Argyle's name inspired by Kris. And Kyle's pink sweater like omg why did Sheila think it was okay to give a ten year old boy that sweater I love it so much.
Thanks for R&Ring!
