A/N
Dialogue is difficult for me and this chapter's full of it. Enjoy!
"There's not a hope in Hell I'm bringing you to one of those places."
"Kyle, c'mon," Ike groaned. "All of my friends are going. Can you just be cool for once? Please?"
Kyle glared at him through his rusty bangs. "How are your friends going if you need someone over sixteen to gain entry?"
"Because you'd be that person!"
"Well then I guess you don't have to worry about being left out of the loop since none of your friends can go either," Kyle huffed and picked his book back up. "I'm not doing it for you and I'm sure as shit not doing it for them."
"Firkle's going," Ike grumbled.
The redhead glanced up at him. "How's he able to go without a-"
"He's part of the band," he interrupted before sighing and taking his tone down a notch. "That's why I wanna go, Ky. He always comes to my games so I figured it'd be a nice thing to do. I don't understand why you're so against the whole thing…"
"I'm against it because it's fucking dangerous, Ike," Kyle countered. "People drink and smoke and fight and I just don't want you to be there, okay?"
"Number one, you drink and smoke and fight all the time, so don't give me that bullshit," Ike claimed with a role of his eyes. "Number two, you'd be there with me so I'd be perfectly fine. You can even baby me and be a total embarrassment, I don't give a damn! I just want to see my friend playing the drums in his shitty little garage band. Just this once."
Kyle bit his lip and looked down at his lap in thought. Stubborn as he was, he knew that he should at least give his younger brother a chance. Unfortunately, he wasn't a toddler anymore. Kyle wasn't in any place to be bossing him around all the time. He needed to be able to make his own mistakes, but the elder would've preferred for him to start off a little bit safer than a gothic band slam or whatever he referred to it as. In the end, the decision was completely up to him. But then again, Ike could just find someone else to take them, and Kyle was not going to let that happen. "I'll think about it," he eventually muttered.
Ike's face lit up as he sprung up from his seat and pounced on his brother, enveloping him in a quick hug. "Thanks, love ya!" he sang before prancing out of the room without giving him a chance at changing his mind.
Kyle placed his novel on his nightstand and allowed himself to fall back onto his bed with a thump. What was he getting himself into?
"I think you should just let him go," Stan mumbled as he poured ketchup beside his fries. "Goths aren't as freaky as people make them out to be. They're just a bunch of folks with about as much personality as a bowl of soup. Harmless, trust me."
Kyle sighed through his mouth, his nose too congested to even attempt to breathe through it. Yup, he knew his immune system would fuck him over after his little adventure the previous night. "I dunno," he sighed, coughing weakly into his arm. Stan winced with guilt. "I just don't want him growing up too quick, you know?"
"I get'cha, Kyley-Bear," Kenny smiled and rested his chin on his palm. "Kar's already wearin' makeup and all that bull. It's fuckin' heartbreaking."
"I'll tell you what's heartbreaking," Cartman grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. "I ordered a milkshake seven fucking minutes ago and it's nowhere to be seen. Fucking typical Denny's. Why couldn't we have just gone to McDonald's, you dumb assholes?"
"Maybe they thought you could do without, fatass," Kyle remarked.
"Well if that were the case then they'd be bringing three down for you, you dumb Jew," the brunet snapped back at him. "Their job is to give people what they fucking paid for, not make up goddamn diet plans for them. Fuck you."
Kyle rolled his eyes and shook his head, absentmindedly swirling the nearly melted ice cubes around in his glass of water with the unused straw. "Patience is a virtue," he eventually stated.
Cartman promptly threw a salt packet at his cheekbone, causing Kyle's fiery gaze to snap up to his face, which then led to him proceeding to chuck an open sachet of ketchup at his jacket, leaving a trail of sauce along the flap of his pocket. "What the fuck?!" Cartman yelled and picked up his glass of Sprite, intending on using it as his next weapon.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kenny said gently and took the beverage away from the fuming teen. "We're not gettin' kicked out again, thank you very much."
Stan sighed and looked over at Kyle, who was tearing off a slice of pizza a bit too aggressively and placing it on his plate. "Dude, Ike's not getting any younger. He'll officially be a teen in December."
"Don't remind me," Kyle grunted.
"Dude, just take him to this one gig," the noiret reasoned, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He'll resent you if you don't, especially after you gave him a shred of hope. Don't be a dickstain."
Kyle frowned down at the table top before glancing up at Stan like a kicked puppy. "Will you come?"
"Can't, taking Wends out for the night."
"I didn't even tell you the night it's on yet," Kyle said monotonously with furrowed brows.
"I still get the texts, Ky," Stan chuckled, raking a hand through his jet-black hair. "I know all the deets about this sorta shit."
"Well it's a good thing ya don't go anymore 'cause they'd sacrifice ya to their demon lord if they heard the word 'deets' comin' outta your mouth."
"Fuck off, Ken," Stan groaned.
"Ken, are you free Wednesday night?" Kyle asked hopefully.
"No can do, babe," the blond sighed. "It's just really not my thing."
"It's not my thing either!"
"Right, but it's your brother," Kenny grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Not my responsibility."
Kyle glared at him and huffed. "Well, I'm all outta fucking friends to ask."
"You sure are," Cartman confirmed.
Kyle switched his glare from Kenny to Cartman. "As if I was ever even considering asking you," he sneered, crossing his arms.
Cartman shrugged and continued to devour his meal. "Whatever, have fun on your playdate, Jew." With that, the brunet's milkshake finally arrived, keeping him occupied for the next three and a half minutes of their outing.
"So what are you thinking?" Stan asked, turning to look at Kyle. "Gonna take 'im?"
Kyle sighed and nodded, clearing his scratchy throat. "Yeah, I don't really have much of a choice…"
"It's only a couple hours long, you'll be alright. And he said it'll just be a one-time thing, right?"
"Right," he confirmed.
Stan smiled. "Then you have nothing to worry about. Ike's a good kid. If he gave you his word then he'll stick by it. He's only going to watch Firkle play."
"But what if he really enjoys himself and wants to go again?" Kyle whined.
"He won't, trust me," Stan chuckled, shaking his head. "It isn't exactly a ball of rainbows and sunshine there. Just a bunch of cynical assholes dressed in black complaining about how much they hate everything in between drags."
"Are the tunes any good?" Kenny intervened.
"Hit and miss," Stan shrugged. "Depends on what you're into. The guys Ike's lookin' to see are good though. Like, real good."
"They are?" Kyle inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Yup. Pete, Michael, Henrietta, and Firkle. They may be asshats but they sure as fuck know how to play, I'll give 'em that."
Kyle sighed. "Looking forward to it…"
"Ma, I'm taking Ike bowling with his friends Wednesday evening," Kyle muttered, glancing over at his brother who was giving him a sly smirk.
"That's kind of you, Bubbie," she smiled, kissing the top of his head as she placed his bowl of matzah ball soup on the table. She then looked over at Ike, who was already digging into his dinner. "Did you thank your brother, Isaac?"
"Yeah," Ike grinned up at Kyle, earning a roll of the eyes.
"What's the occasion?" Gerald inquired as his wife sat down beside him.
"No occasion," Kyle responded monotonously. "I'm just a nice guy."
"The nicest," Ike agreed with a wink. Kyle rolled his eyes yet again.
His parents looked at each other and sighed. "Well, I think that you two spending time together is great," Gerald commented, taking a sip from his glass of water. "Maybe over the weekend you could do something with just the two of you, hmm? You know, just to get out of the house for a few hours."
"Glad to know our presence here is appreciated and valued."
"I appreciate you, Kyle," Ike grinned at him.
"Shut up," the redhead groaned, pinching his arm. He then dug into his jean pocket at the feeling of his phone vibrating against his thigh. "May I be excused?" Kyle asked Sheila, earning a sigh and a brisk nod. He thanked her and stood up, pushing in his chair and taking his half-empty bowl to the sink. "Hello?" he said upon answering the call.
"Is this Kyle?" an unidentifiable, deep voice asked.
"Yeah, who's this?" Kyle inquired, hopping onto the counter top.
"Michael. Listen, Firkle told me you're taking Ike and Filmore to the slam next week. That means you'll be hanging out with us when we're not playing. The last thing we want is to be seen with a goddamn poser so don't show up looking like a fucking Bieber wannabe."
"And how might one go about doing that?" Kyle frowned.
He heard the other boy scoff. "First of all, don't talk like that. You sound like a fucking pleb. Secondly, wear black. Only black. Just don't draw attention to yourself, for the love of fuck. Keep your mouth shut, have a cigarette in your hand at all times, and when you're not taking a drag, drink coffee. Oh, and leave the fucking hat at home where it belongs." With that, the oldest goth hung up.
"Dick," Kyle muttered to himself. He shoved his phone unceremoniously into his pocket and began to make his way back to the dinner table, but he came to an abrupt stop before taking a couple of steps backwards to where he had passed a mirror. He looked into it and frowned, tugging the flaps on his hat. If that kid thought he was showing up without it, he was highly mistaken.
A/N
I was originally going to post a oneshot for Bubbalah's birthday but I didn't finish it on time surprisingly enough and I was almost finished this chapter so I figured I'd update this instead. I'll post the oneshot sometime next week if I have time. Thanks for reading!