In typical millennial fashion, the four friends forget about having a few drinks and then heading home, and before they know it: they've been drinking and catching up for the last three hours. Stan barely realises how drunk he's become until he attempts to get up from his stool and instead careens forward into Wendy's lap. Luckily, he catches himself before he does any lasting social damage.

"Jeez," he slurs. "It's like, four in the afternoon." He bemoans, pulling his phone out from his pocket and squinting at the screen. "And I'm drunker than I should be."

"I don't know how you managed that. I'm fine… mostly," Wendy giggles at him and then glances over at Bebe and Kenny. She wonders to herself when Bebe got onto Kenny's lap, and when he put his hand on her thigh. "Bebe," she says, interrupting their little excursion with a polite cough. "Er, ladies room? Now?"

Bebe's soft, fond expression transfers from Kenny to Wendy and she nods. "Sure!" she replies, jumping up from Kenny's lap as her kitten heels clack onto the ground. Wendy shoots Stan a look that he's sure has some ulterior meaning. He turns to face Kenny.

"Weird, huh?"

Kenny stares after his lost lap-girl in abject disappointment. When Stan talks he snaps out of his haze. "Huh?"

"How girls always go to the bathroom together. It's weird, right?"

Kenny shrugs. "Sure, man. Whatever."

"I wonder what they're talking about." Stan muses.

"Who cares? I'm not a girl. I have no idea why they do things." Kenny takes a sip of his beer, and then belches loudly. "Hey. Are you drunk yet?"

Stan thinks about this for a second. He shakes his head after some deliberation. "No, man." He answers, trying his best to sound sober. "But then, it takes more than a couple of beers to get me drunk."

Kenny smirks at his friend and then closes his eyes with a shrug. "Weird turn of events, huh?"

"Tell me about it. Are you gonna hook up with Bebe?"

Kenny shrugs. "If she lets me, hell yeah." He smiles. "She's just as hot as ever, huh?" he stares after the ladies' room, wistfully. "Man, if only Broflovski were here to see what he missed out on."

Stan's smile fades in a heartbeat. "Broflovski," he repeats, a shade quieter. "Y'know, Wendy mentioned that he's in Denver. They stay in touch, apparently."

Kenny's face lights up. "Really?! Man, I'd love to see him again." He smiles, leaning back on his chair. "It's been too long."

"Not for me." Stan mutters.

"Nah, dude." Kenny shakes his head. "Broflovski's cool, right? We've all been friends for decades. I miss our acid trips together in high school. Guy was absolutely insane."

Stan frowns. That's not how he remembers Kyle, at all. He remembers Kyle always being the sensible one of the group, always the one who would take a stand when he felt morally outraged by something.

Which was most of the time, as it turned out.

"I just don't think he'd want to-" Stan starts, but noticing that Kenny's now fixated to a point just behind him, which stops him from talking. A quick glance round confirms his suspicions: that Wendy and Bebe have returned from the toilets, and Kenny's drooling over Bebe again. "Oh, for fuck's sake. It's like talking to a Neanderthal." He bemoans, clutching his forehead in annoyance.

"Hello, boys." Bebe waves, hand on one hip. Some sort of transaction appears to have been made in the toilets, because both girls emerge with a sense of purpose. "So!" she clasps her hands together. "We're going to grab something to eat. And then we're going to head back to my grandad's place and drink some more!"

Drinking is one thing that Stan does particularly well, and Kenny will do just about anything to get into Bebe's pants, so they let themselves be led astray.


"Should we get the bus back?" Stan asks, full of greasy food and eager to sit down and digest what's in his stomach. Bebe is preoccupied with feeding Kenny chicken nuggets, which momentarily triggers Stan's gag reflex and causing him to turn to Wendy for some moral support.

"Dude," he says to her. "Have you seen what's going on with those guys?" he whispers conspiratorially.

She's too busy texting to look up, but shrugs. "I know, it's obscene. Classic Bebe."

"Classic Kenny." Stan says, his expression inscrutable for a second, absorbing this. "They're actually perfect for each other, in a weird way." He muses, scratching his stubble in thought.

Wendy is still furiously typing something out on her phone, so Stan nudges her gently on the arm. "Uh… everything ok?"

She looks up. "Hm?" she says blankly. "Oh. I was… actually, I was just messaging Broflovski."

Stan's expression clouds over again. He wonders why everyone keeps mentioning him today. It's getting old fast. "How come?" he asks tonelessly.

Wendy shows him her phone instead of replying verbally, going momentarily cross-eyed as she takes a loud sip from her straw.

Stan skims through it.

this deposition is making me want to kill myself. tell me how are you still alive through four years of this bullshit

I just think about all the money I'm going to make!

hah, you mean drowning in student debt

Don't even go there, Broflovski. Besides, I have three more years before I have to think about that!

good luck

Stan looks up at her with a quizzical expression.

"He's being deposed right now. The company he works at are having some legal trouble, and I'm studying law." She explains. Stan nods vaguely. "I'm going to tell him that you're here." She says plainly.

"Don't!" Stan suddenly reacts in a fit of passion, making a move to grab her iPhone out of her hands- she deftly moves out of his way and sends him a knowing smile.

"Look. It's going to happen. Deal with it!" she waves her phone in the air precariously as he panics, trying to pluck it from her hands.

Stan makes a sulking face. "I don't want him to know I'm here!"

"Tough! He's going to." Wendy frowns, typing a few words into her phone. "Aaaaand… sent." She says with a satisfactory smile.

Stan groans audibly. "What is it with you women and interfering!" he says, scowling and putting his hands on his head. "Do you ever think that some things are just left un-"

Ping!

"Oh. He replied. He must be pretty bored." Wendy pulls her phone out again.

Currently hanging out in Denver with Kenny and Stan!

that's pretty random… say hello from me

Stan narrows his eyes, scrutinising the text. "'Say hello from me'?" he ponders. "What on earth do you think that means?"

"It means, he says hello." She sighs, stating the obvious. "Look, Stan. I'm going to ask him if he wants to join us. What's the harm?" she exclaims, amidst Stan's cries of anguish. "If he says no, he says no. If he's game- well, then, who are we to deny him the right to drink with us!" she says, getting ready to type a few lines of text.

Stan decides that sincere is the way to go.

"Wendy, I am not joking. I don't want to see Kyle." He tries, his face beet red but his eyes desperate.

She pauses, looking up from her phone. "I don't get it." She hesitates. "You guys were so close."

"No, you don't get it. So just… quit it."

"You know that he misses you-"

"I don't care." Stan stays firm.

"So evidently you're pissed at him." She deduces, pointing and trying a different tack. "Wouldn't you relish the chance to slug him in the face?"

Stan sighs. "Look, Wendy. If it's all the same to you… I'd rather not think about it." He says carefully, avoiding the subject.

"No, Stan. You need to deal with this. Whatever it is. Kyle and you were super best friends for years. You can't just stop talking to each other without any reason. He probably doesn't even know-"

"Yes! He does know!" Stan's angry, now. "And he's the one that stopped talking to me, first!" he says loudly, suddenly embarrassed that he's allowed himself to get so riled up about this. "Jesus, I sound fifteen. For God's sake, Wendy."

"Stan, but-"

"Fine! Do what you want." He concedes, not wanting to argue this point any further. He'd lost enough cool points as it was, he wasn't eager to lose any more. Besides, he and Wendy had just reconciled and it's not like he was keen to jeopardize that just yet.

"Okay." She says, unconvinced. "Look, I'm sorry to get involved. But really, I think that you two should talk things out. When are you next going to have an opportunity like this?"

Stan shrugs, embarrassed at this point. "Let's just… let's just get back to Bebe's, okay?"

The two old friends look over at their respective friends, who are now touching noses and giggling like a pair of school children. Stan and Wendy wrinkle up their noses in perfect unison.

"Jesus." Wendy utters, disappointed. "How nauseating."


Bebe's grandad's place is surprisingly modern, for an older person living on his own. Within minutes Stan makes himself comfortable on the couch and sticks some soccer on the television. Kenny comes to join him before long.

"The girls are making cocktails." He grins, plopping his body down with gusto. "Apparently, some other girls might be joining us. Do you know what this means, Stanley?" Stan shakes his head. "I might be threesome bound!"

Unlikely, Stan thinks. "I'm glad you're having a good time," he says, his voice teeming with sarcasm. "Wendy won't stop bugging me about inviting Kyle." He leans further back into the couch, nestling his head into the soft leather. "Christ, this couch is glorious."

Kenny snickers. "Look, I'll get them to invite some gay dudes if you're gonna be all salty about it."

Stan's serious expression breaks, and he gives a little, laughing. "No, thanks." He shakes his head. "I am so done with the gay dating scene." He says, knocking back another large gulp of his beer.

"That's lame, and so are you. There are plenty of eligible guys out there. Just look at me, for example."

Stan does look at him. The boy is about his height, pretty average. He's skinny from not eating properly, but he's got a sort of wiry toughness about him which Stan supposes is from growing up in the poor part of the neighbourhood. Wonky teeth, but he works it to his advantage with a charming, crooked smile. That dirty blond hair. Dirty in both senses of the word. Maybe all three, Stan doesn't know.

"You aren't my type." Stan says, truthfully. It's something he's said before, and he'll say it again. "Besides. You like tits too much to want to screw me."

"Amen," Kenny nods, closing his eyes in bliss. "And might I say, Bebe's are looking mighty-"

The doorbell rings and cuts him off. Stan's heart flies into his mouth for no good reason. Kenny jumps up from where he's sitting. "I'll bet that's my ladies!" he grins. "I'll get it!" he calls to the kitchen, where Bebe and Wendy are making some wildly disconcerting giggling noises.

Stan turns back to face the television with a protracted sigh out his nostrils. He tunes out the noises of clinking glasses from the kitchen, and the sound of hubbub coming from the front door, and lets his mind turn off as he pours the last few drops of his beer bottle onto his tongue with a bitter splash.

Against his better wishes, his ears pick up some sound as he hears someone open and shut a door with a click.

"Man, it's so crazy that you're here!" he hears Kenny's excited tones and he's forced to push something inside him back downward with a nervous swallow. Still, he refuses to turn his head round. He keeps himself occupied; keeps his gaze on the television screen steely.

"Stan! It's Kyle!" Wendy hisses to him, confirming what he already figured as she and Bebe go also to greet him.

Stan has to admit, he's sorely tempted to see how Bebe and Kyle will interact, so he does turn his head a little, to try and listen.

"Hey! Thanks for coming," that's Wendy, polite and cordial as ever.

"Kylie!" Bebe exclaims. "Wow! You look so different!"

"Do I?"

That voice.

"Yeah, you look good. Not that you didn't look good before! I just meant, you know. You look a lot older, and your hair! I can't believe it's been, what, four years? How have you been, what are you doing now? I'm still in South Park, can you believe it…?!"

Stan eyes up the porch window which he can see from where he's sitting; wondering if he'll look like a giant pussy if he makes a break for it now.

As with the car, he decides that it probably wasn't the best of moves to make. He stands up slowly, as if he's gained fifty pounds in the last few minutes and trudges over to where Bebe is gushing, offering up an awkward smile as he catches Kyle's eye.

Woah.

The first thing that Stan thinks is that Bebe is correct - Kyle's grown up. It sounds childish to say, but he literally had. He was literally about five inches taller than Stan vaguely remembers from high school. That orange hair is cropped short; curls free of that old green hat he used to wear everywhere.

"Stan," Kyle fully interrupts Bebe's tirade. "Hello," he says, warm but definitely investigatory. He's wondering if Stan is still pissed at him.

There's an uncanny silence for a few milliseconds as Stan mentally weighs up the last few year of high school in his head, concluding with an equally wary. "Kyle! Hello, man. You good?" he goes with, injecting a false sincerity in his tone.

If Stan remembers Kyle at all, he recognizes the fakeness in Stan's voice and will respond in kind.

"Great! You?" he replies. Stan is instantly proved correct.

"Yeah, yeah." He waves his hand, grateful when Kenny cuts in.

"You want a beer, dude?" Kenny asks, slapping Kyle on the back slightly too hard. "I got some buds in the kitchen, c'mon," he tilts his head towards the house and Kyle enters, pulling off his duffel coat to reveal… a shirt and tie.

"Did you work today?" Wendy asks, spying the outfit. "It's a Saturday." She says blankly.

"Oh, uh, I had some stuff to do in the office." He waves away.

"That's what you get working in Finance, I guess." Wendy says drily, sipping at the fruity glass that she holds between her fingers. "Come in, come in…" she pauses. "Bebe and I were thinking about playing a drinking game!"

"Didn't you need to visit your grandfather…?" Stan reminds her, perhaps a little meanly.

Bebe looks crestfallen. "Oh. Yeah. Well, maybe I should do that?" she looks at Kenny, as if he's going to confirm something for her, and then punctuates her sentence with a giggle. "Maybe later."

Nice, Stan thinks sourly as he brings his beer to his lips.

"Uh. What's the plan?" Kyle asks, seeming a little preoccupied.

"We should definitely stay here and wait for these 'other girls' to show up!" Kenny says with unbridled enthusiasm, earning him a wry look from Wendy.

"Mm. Bebe and I were thinking perhaps we could have some fun around here and then possibly head out to a club later? It depends. Stan, you said you and Kenny were planning a big weekend…? What did you have in mind?"

Stan realises that Kyle's giving him an odd look and he clears his throat to answer Wendy. "We were just going to hit some bars," he explains.

Bebe shakes her head. "No, you've got to know the right places to go! I know the city, I can show you around!" she exclaims, clearly forgetting that Kyle is the only one who lives here. Meanwhile, the Denver-expert in question is boring a hole into the side of Stan's head with a vengeance.

"It's your birthday," he remembers, speaking quietly after a little moments pause. "Happy birthday!" he addendums, a little cheerier.

"Oh. Thanks," he says, suddenly embarrassed. "You remembered?"

Kyle scratches at his hair a little awkwardly. "Yeah, weird…" he agrees with a shrug. "Would have got you something, only I was busy having no idea I would see you." He adds with a joking tone in his voice.

Stan doesn't crack a smile, only nods with a vague hint of recognition on his face and turns away.

Wendy clasps her hands together in an attempt to ease the burgeoning tension, and loudly exclaims. "Bebe and I made margaritas! Who fancies one?!"


Despite himself, after a few more drinks Stan does admittedly find himself relaxing back into the atmosphere of being in this little group. Bebe splits off and decides that it might be a good idea to visit her sick, dying grandfather after all. Kenny is therefore less engaged with tits and more engaged with talking to Kyle; this takes the pressure off Stan somewhat.

Stan turns to Wendy and sips at his tasty cocktail.

"Damn. These are really good." He says, swirling the clouded liquid around the glass a few times. "I've gotta say. As a fourth friend, you're really soaring above and beyond Cartman in a big way." He laughs.

Wendy makes a face, as if the mere mention of his name is unpleasant to the ear. "I should think so! I bet Cartman never made you a delicious cocktail, did he?" she raises her eyebrows.

"Can't say I ever remember it." Stan shrugs. "He preferred stirring up lives, not stirring up drinks."

"Har-de-har." Wendy says, deadpan. "Very funny. I wonder what that oaf is doing nowadays, anyway?"

Kenny overhears them from the other couch, where him and Kyle are amicably chatting away. "Oh! I got his number. Shall I call him?!" he asks with a gleam in his eye as the room drops silent. "Could be a laugh?"

Wendy and Kyle make eye contact, their faces a mirror picture of abject horror. Kenny twigs and pushes his phone back into his pocket. "Perhaps not, then."

"I heard that he spent some time in prison." Stan pitches in.

"Really? I heard he worked for some shady government organisation," Kyle frowns. "I wonder if he's still as much of a twisted fuck,"

"You don't grow out of psychopathy." Stan replies, his voice coming across a little churlish.

"I wondered if he was really a psychopath." Kyle says thoughtfully. "Aren't they supposed to be, like, emotionless or something? I remember him crying like a bitch when I punched him, once."

"Once!" Stan repeats with some amusement. "You were forever punching him."

Kenny chuckles. "Oh man, that time that he got an A+ on that history paper… the one on why Mein Kampf was a classic piece of literature…" he slaps his thigh. "That was a fun week."

Kyle seethes with remembered rage. "Oh, God, he spent all week boasting about it." He groans. "Did I really punch him then?" he asks, genuinely enquiring. "I think I might have blocked it out."

Kenny shrugs. "I can't remember. I think so? You were mighty pissed."

"Yeah, you did. When you found out you got a B on your paper on Das Kapital." Stan weighs in suddenly, surprising Kyle. "We were in the English classroom. You almost threw a chair at him. I talked you out of it, and you slugged him in the face instead."

Kyle places a hand over his mouth in horror. "Christ."

"Yeah, you had quite the temper." Stan remembers, quirking an eyebrow upwards. "That wasn't the worst time, though."

"Hm?"

Kenny's eyes turn wide like he's wishing he had some popcorn to munch on. He loved story-sharing time, especially when the topic was their childhood in South Park. That town spawned so many weird events, it was amazing they were still alive to tell the tales.

"You almost put him in the hospital. Senior year of high school. You broke his nose."

"What happened?" Wendy asks, clearly becoming drawn in to the conversation.

Kyle frowns, his memories becoming clearer in his mind. "Yeah," he says. He ignores the others, staring right at Stan with a fierce intensity in his narrowed eyes. Stan doesn't say anything else. He doesn't need to.

Kenny and Wendy share a perturbed look.

"I don't remember that.. what did he do?" Kenny tries. "Stan?"

"I don't remember." Stan waves a hand, not breaking Kyle's hard gaze.

"It's not important, anyway." Kyle frowns, losing the staring contest which had cropped up between the two of them and averting his eyes. "Point is, he was a douchebag."

There's a small silence.

"Hear hear!" Kenny cuts in, lifting his drink up in a 'cheers' motion and then chucking it down his throat with some gusto. "Wendy, you're going to have to show me how to make another one of those!"