"Easy with the names, Cartman," Stan says, clearly not feeling the buzz. Kyle rests his head on the table, looking up at Stan. His eyes watery and glazed. Stan heaves a heavy sigh. All of a sudden he's full of guilt. "Guys, I'm going to take Kyle out of the game." Kyle dizzyingly shakes his head in protest.
"I am fine. I am not feeling anything," Kyle mumbles, tracing his fingers along the surface of the table. He stares through the glass at his feet. "Stan, I have x-ray vision!" Kenny's laughter seems to echo loudly in the quiet night.
"Not funny, Dude!" Stan snaps. The table falls silent and Stan grabs Kyle's arm, leading him into the house and onto a maroon coloured loveseat. Kyle grasps the edges of the couch as a wave of queasiness catches up to him.
"What is your problem?" Kyle inquires, struggling to control his uneven breathing. Stan frowns, pacing back and forth. He chews on his bottom lip, contemplating his options. Suddenly, Stan stops and spins on his heel to face Kyle.
"Why did you drink so much, Dude?" Kyle stares blankly in response, his eyes may be looking directly into Stan's, but they aren't focused.
"What is your problem?" Kyle repeats. Stan grits his teeth before spreading his hands dismissively.
"Never mind. Just stay here, I'll be back." Stan looks briefly around the room then leaves for the kitchen.
Stan carelessly throws the fridge door open. His eyes finally land on a couple clear water bottles which he pulls from the fridge. He slams the door shut, suddenly jerking back involuntarily once he finds himself face to face with Wendy. She shows off her teeth in a drunken grin.
"Thanks, Stan," she says, reaching over to one of the bottles. Stan pulls away and Wendy's hand brushes through the air. She frowns deeply.
"It's for Kyle," Stan tells her, cradling the bottles protectively in his arms. Wendy reaches out once more, her hand snakes its way to his shoulders and slithers down his arm. She pulls herself closer to him. Stan apathetically shrugs her hand off.
"What's your problem, Stan?" She begins angrily before her tone softens, "remember how much fun we had last time, remember?"
Stan barely remembers that night. And he's happy to keep it that way. Any details would just be too overwhelming.
He just wants to escape the world for a few hours. He just wants to be with his friends.
He just wants to escape the world with his best friend.
With Kyle.
Stan suddenly shoves pass Wendy, his eyes desperately searching for that flaming red head of hair. Kyle sits on that couch beside Kenny, a bottle of beer dangles in his hand while Kenny is busy rolling a joint.
"Jesus Christ," Stan mumbles to himself, grabbing the beer from Kyle's clenched fist. Kyle moans sadly and Stan struggles to push his dirty thoughts aside. What other noises could Kyle make?
The water bottle slips easily in between Kyle's fingers.
"Sober up," Stan states simply. Kyle's face twists into a scowl and he stares at the bottle.
"I'm not cool enough for you?" Stan shakes his head.
"Kyle," he sighs. "I don't know what you're talking about. Why –"
"Arguing like a married couple, eh?" Kenny interrupts, pocketing his freshly formed joints and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks up at Stan, eyes gleaming and grinning widely; as if he's carrying the world's best secret. Stan growls in frustration and passes off the beer to a teenage walking by. "Do you even know that guy?" Kenny asks through his smile.
Stan feels his blood boil whenever his eyes find Kenny's smirk. He motions for Kenny to leave, afraid that if he opens his mouth he will only scream. Luckily Kenny takes the hint and leaves through the back door.
Stan lazily plops himself on the couch beside Kyle.
"Drink some water," Stan says dully. Kyle grins and throws his water bottle across the room. Stan uncaps his own water bottle and holds it up to Kyle's face. "I have another one you know. Drink. Now."
Kyle's grin fades instantly. Without another word, he grabs the bottle from Stan and chugs it down sloppily, spilling water in the process.
Stan sighs heavily. What the hell is Kyle trying to prove? Why does he care?
Kyle's downfall has sobered Stan up completely and yet he still finds himself unable to think straight. What the hell is going on?
Kyle finishes the water and tosses the empty bottle on the floor. It bounces once then rolls under the table, out of view. Stan turns to Kyle, tilting his head curiously to the side. Kyle's eyes droop down to Stan's exposed neck, before trailing back to his sparkling blue eyes.
"Kyle..." Stan begins, "Do you want to talk?" Kyle rocks sideways unsteadily, threatening to fall over, but Stan reaches out and grabs him before he topples off the couch. "Kyle..." Stan tries again, speaking softer this time.
All of a sudden Kyle's lips crash down on Stan's at an awkward angle. His tongue slides deep into Stan's mouth and Stan is struck by an overwhelming taste of alcohol. He almost gags.
This is a drunk kiss.
Once Stan regains his senses, he pushes Kyle away, immediately bringing his hand up to his warm and wet lips.
"Dude!" He manages to yell at Kyle, his eyes wide in horror. Kyle shakes his head and mumbles incoherently to himself. Without another word or glance at Stan, Kyle stumbles from the couch and leaves the house in a rush.
"That didn't go very well, did it?" A voice says from the distance. Stan doesn't even need to turn around to know who it is.
A/N: Hey! Sorry the update took a while, I wasn't busy I just had confidence block or something. But I'm baaaack! For the next couple weeks I'll be entirely focused on this story until I get it done.
Thank you for all the reviews!