"Dude, you may be pretty new around here, but don't go picking fights with the son of Satan or any of his fri- well, his one friend. And I'd have thought you two would've gotten along well, you hating God and him being the Devil's son an' all." Kenny shrugged. They had made it to Kenny's without another incident.
Christophe had sat on Kenny's bed while Kenny had gone to collect the alcohol in his house. He came back to the room with his arms full of vodka and whiskey. He had even found an unopened bottle of wine. Half an hour later, Kenny was strewn on the floor, Christophe lying on his bed.
"Did I ever- hic!- tell you that my mother stabbed me in ze haht with a clothes hangar while I was steel in ze womb?" Christophe asked drunkenly.
Kenny laughed and hiccupped at the same time. "Ah, that's nothin'. Once, a satellite fell on me, and another time, I was attacked by turkeys, hit in the face with a – hic! – boomerang…" Kenny's voice faded out. "Ya know, God's a bitch!"
Christophe rolled to lay on his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows. "God? He is ze biggest beetch of zem all." After a few seconds of silence, both boys started cracking up.
"Hey, you're pretty cool. For a new kid." Kenny took his hand and hit his radio. It turned on and blasted whatever station it had been tuned to last. Kenny stood up and started dancing. Christophe soon joined him. They looked like idiots, but they were both too drunk to notice. The bedroom party quickly turned into a street party, Kenny leading Christophe outside and down the street.
By the time they got to 'downtown' South Park, if you could call it that, they were totally wasted. Kenny had to lean on Christophe to keep from falling over. The two boys each had an arm around the other to keep their balance, although they still staggered across the sidewalk in a bee line. They bumped into a few adults, who gave them disgusted looks. In front of the piano store, they also ran into Kyle and Stan.
"H-hey guyyyyyysssss", Kenny managed to slur out, clumsily waving to his two best friends. He and Christophe staggered over to them together.
"Wow, Kenny. You are soooo drunk." Stan rolled his eyes.
Kenny smiled crookedly and patted Stan on the back saying, "It's okay – hic! – though'causeI'mblonde!" He slurred the last few words and continued to grin stupidly.
Kyle just looked at Kenny like he was an idiot. "Dude, that didn't even make sense." Stan looked at Kyle and simply shook his head.
Christophe was confused. "Yes eet did. Like… like potato zoop and… and fooking guard dogs." He nodded, sure of his logic. He squeezed Kenny's waist and Kenny hiccupped again, still grinning.
"Whatever guys, just try not to get arrested." With that, Stan and Kyle left. Behind them, they could hear two voices half screaming, half singing the words, "I want to ride my bicycle! I want to ride my biiiiiiiike!" followed by an outbreak of maniacal laughter.
Kenny and Christophe had collapsed under a giant tree. The alcohol seemed to be wearing off a little. Christophe pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. It took him a few tries to light it, since his hand was shaking slightly, but he finally got it. Leaning against the stump of the tree, Kenny said, "Ya know, I think I really like the smell of night time."
Christophe leaned on the tree next to Kenny. Turning his head, Christophe just said, "You are very drunk."
"I swear to fucking God I'm not!" Kenny shouted at his new friend.
"Now, hey! Don't you look at me in that tone of voice!" Christophe looked a little angry, but Kenny just laughed. Soon he had Christophe laughing with him. "Ooh! Want to hear a joke?" Kenny nodded. "Okay, so there were zese two muffeens in an oven. One muffeen zed 'Ey! Eet's getting hot in here!' and ze other muffeen backed away in surprize, zaying, 'Holee sheet! A talking muffeen!'" Kenny paused a moment to think it over, then clutched his sides in laughter.
Once he had quieted down a bit, Kenny reached over and grabbed the cigarette out of Christophe's mouth, whining, "Hey! Let me have a drag!"
Christophe snatched it back, complaining, "Ey! Now eet 'az your spit on eet!"
"And what's so wrong with my spit, huh?" Kenny asked as he grabbed it back. He took an extra long drag on it, just to annoy Christophe. Then, he leaned over and licked Christophe's cheek.
Christophe wiped Kenny's saliva off of his face. "Agh!"
"See? It wasn't so bad."
Christophe cocked an eyebrow. "I steell like mine better." He rubbed his wet hand on his black T-shirt. He glanced up to see Kenny giving him a rather scary look.
"Oh, we'll see about that." Kenny was grinning evilly. Next thing Christophe knew, Kenny's mouth was on his.
Christophe realized that he was kissing Kenny back. He and Kenny were now playing tonsil hockey. And to be honest, Kenny's spit really wasn't all that bad. Christophe felt Kenny pull away, leaving his mouth dry and wanting.
Kenny was looking questioningly at him. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"
What a flirt. But he was right. Christophe shook his head, which had Kenny grinning again. Kenny pushed himself up off the dirty ground, explaining, "Well, let's get going then." What a fucking tease, Christophe thought. Kenny felt Christophe grab his wrist and pull him roughly back down to the ground. Kenny smirked in the darkness.
"I don't think zo", Christophe whispered to Kenny, the smell of alcohol still hanging thickly on his breath. His voice sent shivers up Kenny's spine. Kenny had been waiting for this. Christophe turned the other boy around, so that his face was only inches away from the other's. It was Christophe that started it this time; he pressed his mouth against Kenny's, who let him take control. Kenny eventually led Christophe back to his house, up the stairs, and into his room.
Kenny pushed Christophe onto his bed and stood above him, grinning with pride. He leaned above Christophe and slowly started to inch the boy's tight shirt up his skinny frame, leaving a trail of kisses up the French boy's stomach. Christophe flung his head back, his mouth open slightly and emitting a soft groan. Kenny had managed to slide the shirt off, with a little help from Christophe. Now Christophe was grabbing madly at Kenny's orange hoodie, trying desperately to get it off of him. "Dammeet, Ken", Christophe growled, still pulling on the fabric. Kenny helped him out so that they were both shirtless on his bed. Kenny was posed on all fours on top of the slightly smaller boy, who was almost panting beneath him. Kenny leaned down to capture Christophe in another fiery kiss before nudging him suggestively. Christophe licked Kenny's ear and ruffled his light blonde hair affectionately. Kenny tugged down Christophe's dark pants and boxers in one swift pull, and kicking his off directly afterwards. Reaching under his bed, he pulled out a small tub of lube. Of course he had some hidden under there, that little perv. While Kenny was beginning to relax him, Christophe studied the way Kenny's golden hair reflected the light; it seemed to create a halo around his head. Kenny thrust into the boy, making him moan with pleasure. Christophe clawed into Kenny's soft skin and arched his back. Kenny kept thrusting harder and faster, almost howling with delight. Each boy's hand slid across the other in moments of intense want. Climaxing, Christophe cried Kenny's name, Kenny echoing with a whispered, "Christophe!"
Kenny laid his head on Christophe's chest, feeling it rise and fall with his sleeping breath. Christophe's eyes were closed, and he no longer had that tough, protective outer layer that engulfed him. Kenny liked to see him vulnerable and peaceful. The blonde laced his fingers through Christophe's soft brown hair and fell asleep listening to his friend's melodic breathing.
"Okay, okay. So, does anyone have any news on the Plague?" Cartman had gathered his group in the hallway before school started, hoping that someone had news.
Bill raised his hand eagerly. Cartman called on him. "Ooh, I heard that Kenny and that new kid were seen together last night. Kissing." He smiled smugly, proud to be the only one with breaking news.
"Kenneh? That faggot. Ah knew it! The new kid maht have been some perv who pehyed him to do it. Kenny'd do anything for money. Although maybe he just did it 'cause he's a perv, too." Cartman stopped to think about it. "But either way, it's not a case of the Geh Plague, you gahs. It's just a case of there being two fags who go to ah school."
The group of fourth grade boys and girls jerked their heads around when Red came racing around the corner. Out of breath, she stopped to lean her hands on her knees. The kids were staring at her in question, some asking what the problem was. "Hey, Damien and Pip were just seen entering the school. Holding hands!" she gasped, panting.
"What?!" Cartman screeched. He led the hoard of elementary schoolers to where Pip and Damien had last been seen. Sure enough, there they were, hands still clasped together. Damien was supposed to be evil and apathetic; how could he let this disease take hold of him like that, Cartman wondered. The mob stood quiet and looked to Cartman for instruction. Cartman seemed lost in thought, however, so it was Clyde who took charge.
"Well, what're ya waiting for? Get 'em!" As much as they had talked about ridding South Park of the Gay Plague and all its victims, they'd never really discussed what to do when they came across one of the infected. So not knowing what it was they were actually supposed to be doing, the gang followed Clyde's words and slowly started to crowd around the son of Satan and the small, terrified English boy who was now clutching at his shirt.
Pip stared around at all the menacing faces that kept approaching him. He and Damien were trapped; there was no way out. He clutched frantically at Damien's shirt, yearning for protection. He felt so guilty for leading Damien into this. God knew it wasn't Damien's fault. Damien was simply under the influence of the Plague. It was Pip who had let Damien come to school with him and flaunt their affections in Cartman's face. Stupid. But then, maybe Pip himself was infected. If you're infected, Pip thought, do you know it?
Damien wasn't letting anyone but himself anywhere near his Pip. He summoned all the energy he could and released it as a bubble of transparent fire that surrounded himself and Pip. The group of his classmates that had been advancing now stared wide-eyed in fear before running screaming from his path. Clyde's face was that of shock. Did they seriously think that they were going to be able to hurt him? Had they all forgotten that he was the son of the Devil? Cartman was not calling for his 'Meeeehhhhm', surprisingly. Instead, he walked right up to the sphere of flames and knocked on it, screaming, "Ey! We're gonna get you sooner or latah! And you're sweet little boyfriend, too!" The rest of the school day was uneventful for both Pip and Damien. Nobody had built up the courage to stand up to Damien again. But they would at some point, Damien knew.