Thanks everyone for such positive feedback to this story! This is where things REALLY start to get juicy :)

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Chapter 4

Stan's POV

It's finally the weekend. That means it's time to party! Now that I'm "with Kyle" I am getting invited to a lot more of them. It's a technicality sure, but I'm taking it. I'm not stupid. The only bad part is that it means keeping up the act with Kyle outside of school. You'd think that girls would stop hitting on a "gay" guy, but you'd be wrong. Kyle and I BOTH had girls all over us, which was new for me. Kyle didn't have as many on him as he usually gets, so I guess his plan is working a little.

"Feel like going out?" he had asked me at the end of classes on Friday, linking his arm in mine and grinning like a madman. To which I, of course, nodded my head until something in my brain shook loose.

Now I'm staring at my clock waiting for my "date" to show up and drive us over to Milly...or Mindy...or Mandy's house. Some chick. I don't really care who she is, Kyle and I are going out!

On the town. Going to a party.

It should be pretty sweet. I run a comb through my hair and check myself out one more time in the mirror. I guess I look okay for going to a party. It's not a fancy party or anything. Actually, I have no idea WHAT kind of party it is. Probably just a back to school, end of the week party where everyone relieves stress by smoking, drinking, and having sex. Of course I won't bother telling my parents that.

I HOPE it's that kinda party, 'cause I don't have a gift or anything.

The doorbell rings.

"Hey there, good lookin'," Kyle greets me as I open the door. This causes me to blush because, clearly, he's the one that's looking sharp.

"You ready?" He extends his arm like a true gentleman. Guess his rule is if we could possibly be spotted, we act the part. Aka. my door is open to the outside. Outside has people. I graciously accept his arm and link it in mine and we head out the door. I make sure to lock it behind me cause my parents are gone for yet another romantic weekend. They've found time to do that now that Shelly's out of the house and I'm old enough to drive.

Gross.

"I hope this party's good," I remark.

Kyle grins. "If not, we can just excuse ourselves to go make out."

I know that by 'make out,' he means 'leave the lame ass party but SAY we're doing so to go make out.' I smile at the good idea.

"My parents are gone again," I inform him, winking. Less than a week at being 'boyfriends', and we are already really good at making it believable.

"Then we'll definitely be leaving early," he replies, smiling.

I have to admit, I think I'm actually getting into character pretty well. I guess that's because I'm used to doing this with Kyle around, who always seems incredible comfortable with it. That whole ass-pinching thing was a problem at first, but now here I am holding his arm and letting him know that we can be alone in my house. I think Gay Stan is really getting comfortable being with Gay Kyle.

Once I am sheltered in the car, Kyle releases his hold of me. He shuts my door, like a guy would for his girl (no I am NOT the girl so don't even go there), and he walks over to his side and gets in. He turns the key and revs the engine. I don't know why he does that. He has the world's tiniest car and this is South Park, for Christ's sake. Trying to overcompensate much?

He wiggles his eyebrows at me and smiles before we head out to the party. I have no idea where we're going, but Kyle seems to have a good idea. I watch him as he puts the car into different gears. He does look good tonight.

We arrive in a few minutes and head inside. Kyle goes straight for the snack table, and then tries to find the most comfortable place to hang out at. He's clearly a party master.

"Hey dude," someone says to me. I turn and find out Kenny's here too.

I guess it makes sense. Where there's booze, there's Kenny. Where's there's chicks, there's Kenny. Where there's a party...there's Kenny. Why would he NOT be at this place?

"Hey Ken," I greet with a manly handshake thing. One that we made up long ago and do sometimes just for kicks. "How's the party?" I ask casually, trying desperately to fit in. Truth is, I can't remember the last time I've been to one of these functions.

"Fine," he says. "Just starting really."

"Uh-huh," I answer.

"So listen, you need to get drunk," he informs me casually.

"...What?"

"Just enough to loosen up."

"What's wrong with me now?" I ask, defensively.

Kenny stifles a laugh. "Exactly my point."

I frown and opt to scan the crowd for Kyle instead. In the brief two seconds I was chatting it up Kenny, I lost track of my 'boyfriend.' The whole reason I was invited to this party.

"Looking for Kyle?" Kenny guessed. "Try over in that cheerleader blob."

"Jealous?" I question.

"Nah. Kyle's gonna reject them soon, and then they'll come to me. And I'll have alcohol, which'll make me look even MORE attractive."

I snicker at Kenny's cloudy perception of things. But he does have a point. Sometime, in the very near future, Kyle will reject the lunatic sluts, and he'll come join me again.

"Well good luck with that, man," I tell Kenny, patting him on the back.

"Thanks," he replies, strolling off to some unsuspecting victim. I stand alone, feeling really out of place without Kyle.

"I have to get back to my BOYFRIEND now!" I hear Kyle emphasize. It makes me smile a bit. He pushes his way through the cheerleading mob and is back at my side again in no time, but it felt like forever.

"Hey, dude," I start to say before he grabs my hand and pulls me along to a secluded hallway. It is there that he presses me up against the wall and leans into me.

"God help me, Stan. This isn't working! We've got to do something," he breathes into my left ear. Out of the corner of my eye I can see two girls spying on us, giggling and whispering secrets in each other's ear.

"I think it's working," I say. The girls giggle again in the distance. God knows what they thought I meant by that.

"Not fast enough" Kyle responds.

"Well whaddya want ME to do about it?" I ask him curiously. He pulls his head out from beside mine and looks deeply into my eyes.

"Pretend to kiss me," he says.

"What?!"

"You know, lean in, and cover my face. At this angle, they won't know any different."

"Kyle, dude, I don't know if-"

"Stan, it's been two weeks," he whispers. "This is in character for us. Now c'mon!"

I sigh and lean in. Kyle twists his face so that our noses are touching and I can feel his hot breath on my mouth. I feel a hand shoot up into my hair and massage the back of my head. Suddenly, my body relaxes a bit.

I decide it best to reach my hand around his waist and settle it in his pocket. It is I who is touching HIS ass now. His infamous ass.

"This is really weird, dude," I breathe. He looks at me and we're so close his eyes blur into one.

"Your breath stinks," he informs me. I pull away, embarrassed, even though he is smiling.

"God dammit!" I curse under my apparently bad breath. "I knew I forgot something when I left."

"I've gotta toothbrush if you want it," he offers.

"You carry those around with you?"

He nods. "Never know when you might need it."

"You're such a nerd, Kyle," I smile back and playfully shove him. I see the girls mistaking it for some other kind of affection.

He smiles and rakes a hand through his auburn curls. "Let's get back out there." I nod in agreement.

---

The party goes on as normal. At least -I- think it's normal. I haven't been to one in forever. Uh-oh. Someone just put on music. That means dancing. I either have to gay it up some more and dance with Kyle, or find something to distract us so we don't HAVE to dance. Since I've got bad breath, and Kyle has bad rhythm, I decide to find a distraction.

I scan the room for any kind of activity we could do instead. Pool table, drinking games, darts...DARTS! I'm a WHIZ at darts ever since dad put one in our garage and claimed to be the dart champion of South Park. He'd brag about it and win all kinds of small money from others bragging to be the best. But it was awesome, cause his own SON could beat him.

"Let's go play darts, Kyle," I coax by pushing him towards my hopeful destination.

"Um, okay?" he answers unsurely as I drag him along. Ha. I really AM the man in this fake relationship!

As we near the area, I feel the slightest of tugs on my sleeve. I turn around to face an anxious Kyle. He leans into me. "Stan, I'm not all that good at-"

"Whatever, dude." I smile. "You've got to be better at this than dancing."

"Hey!"

"Just leave it up to me. I'm good." I lean in further. "I'm real good."

All we need to do is find some unsuspecting victims. I know I can kill anybody in here, and Kyle won't really have to do so much as lift a finger. But I also know how competitive he gets. He'll at least act the part of being a badass player.

Done right, we might even be able to hustle a few people. I don't really care about money though. I just don't wanna dance.

We pass by drunken Kenny on the way to claim the board. He's probably good for a game or two.

"Come play darts with us," I say. It's more of a demand than an invitation.

He murmurs something that I can't understand before grabbing some nameless girl's arm and reaching the dart area before I do. I watch him, slightly amused, as he pretends to show her the ropes of darting. As if there is this great and powerful skill. He takes the opportunity to wrap his body around hers and "show" her how to throw a dart. Ha!

"Ready to get creamed, Kenny?" Kyle roars, already assuming his competitive mode.

Kenny's grin widens as the girl stumbles back into his grasp. "You bet."

I allow Kyle to go first for our team. That's the first rule of scamming people. Let them think they can kick your ass. It keeps them playing longer. A long game is what I'll need since that music will be on constantly. Kyle actually does pretty well for himself. He didn't hit a bulls-eye, but he did okay. At least he doesn't look like an obvious plant or something.

"Take THAT, suckers!" he challenges, incorporating a head thrust in there, which is really, in my opinion, quite unnecessary. It's just Kenny and his girl he's trying to fuck. Which he'll probably do, just from the looks of it. Kyle turns to me and raises his hand in the air. I air-slap it and wait for Kenny to make his move. On the dartboard, that is.

He hurls his dart. It totally misses the board. I guess his aim is off from the alcohol. Off in the distance, a cat yelps.

"Ha, they don't stand a chance," Kyle whispers to me. "Show 'em what you've got, Stanny," he says, and slaps my ass as I make my way up to the board. I jump a little in mild surprise, but for the most part, that has become normal.

I do show them what I have. I intentionally miss the bulls-eye, to continue their false hope of winning, but I get it pretty close. "Beginner's luck," the girl figures. Now it's her turn. She does okay for herself too, especially compared to Kenny, but that's not saying much.

The game actually is mildly interesting to me as more time goes on, because the girl, who we've found her name to be Candy, or at least that's what Kenny calls her cause she's sweet...BAD pun Ken...she's actually pretty good. Better than Kyle and Kenny combined.

But still no match for me. And I see that that our little game has started to draw some interest from onlookers in the crowd who are bored with watching the boys hump the backs of the girls on the dance floor. Kyle can't stop grinning cause he's on the winning team.

And I can't stop grinning at how happy he seems. This is turning out to be quite the party.

I take a swig of the beer that Kenny handed to me some time ago. I've only had a few, but really, that's okay. I'm here more for the social aspect, not to get wasted out of my mind and wake up next to some random girl. Plus that would destroy Kyle and I's little made up world we've got going on here.

The alcohol helped cure my bad breath a little. Or at least gave me an excuse for it. I didn't even think that I was being offered a beer when I first sipped it because I was too caught up in the game. But once I had it, it seemed silly to stop. I think Kyle had a few too. Finally, it was time for me to kick this Candy chick's ass and win the game. Then she could go give Kenny a lap dance. A chick named "Candy" is probably trained for that sorta thing.

"Come on, Stan!" I hear Kyle, who is continuously chanting my name in the background. My ass is getting sore from him either slapping or pinching it or doing God-knows-what with it. I can't help but laugh at his aggressive competitive tactics.

I take a deep breath and prepare to sink the dart into it's rightful home. Two seconds later, I wind up for the pitch, a little less dramatically than baseball, and throw the dart.

What a surprise. It lands right there I wished it to. Kyle runs over, practically tacking me. He makes an 'intimidating' threat to Kenny and Candy, who have already disappeared in the shadows somewhere. And that's when he does it.

Amidst all of the after-game glow, Kyle reaches his hand around my back and lightly squeezes my neck. Then he pats my back and pulls me in close, laughing heartily.

I feel a chill, unlike anything I've ever felt in my life, begin right at the point of contact and permeate throughout my entire body, right down to my toes.

Now I know. I hate to say it hit me like a ton of bricks because that's cliche, but it's true! It all made sense now. The way he was holding me, the way it felt so natural. It only lasted for a second, and God knows he's spent the last two weeks touching me in other places, but NOW it's all clear. This might be a game to him, but it's not to me. Not anymore. This feels so right, and it feels so right because...

...Because I like Kyle.

Like, like him. As MORE than a friend. As more than a "pretend" boyfriend. I LIKE him touching me like this. I LIKE going to places together. The ass smacking still hurts, but I don't even mind it anymore! Earlier I was even touching HIS ass and didn't care! All the nervousness, the awkwardness, the agreeing so easily to act VERY gay in public settings which has lots of negative consequences...It all makes sense.

Being with Kyle makes sense.

Fuck.

Kyle's POV

I hate children. My stupid brother is making noise downstairs, and it's pissing me off. I'd go yell at him to shut up, but that would require getting out of bed. Of course, I'm not doing anything IN bed--I can't sleep thanks to all the noise! It's Saturday, and I should be allowed to sleep in, but that little brat won't let me.

Fuck, I'm tired. Last night was pretty awesome. I think Stan and I really made some headway with this whole gay thing. We even tried a pretend kiss, freaking the girls out entirely. Awesome.

I think it freaked him out a little too, though. Homophobe.

Okay, that's it. I'm kicking Ike's ass. It is morning. A time for sleep.

I pull myself out of bed and run my fingers through my red hair. I stomp downstairs to find him. My guess is he's in front of the TV watching Saturday morning cartoons.

"SOME of us are trying to sleep!" I announce to him before I've even entered the room.

"Ugh," I hear another voice moan. As I make my way from behind the couch to the center of the room, I spy Stan rolling over on the couch, looking barely awake and very sick. Shit, I forgot I had to take him back here cause he was too shitfaced to even walk. Of course that meant I dumped him here instead of walking him up to my room.

Ike glares at me like it's my fault that there's a hungover blob on the couch.

Which it is, I guess, since I invited him in. But that kid is still annoying!

"Ike, keep it down. Me and Stan need sleep."

"He's gonna hurl," Ike tells me. I eye my brother angrily right before I see Stan out of the corner of my eye. His eyes go wide and his body wretches.

He's out of the room in a mad dash before I even have a chance to rebuttle. Poor Stan. He got way too trashed last night. Wonder why, he seemed fine for a while.

"Take him upstairs," Ike practically demands of me. "I can't hear the TV over his hangover noises."

"Shut up, Ike," I say. Instead I make my way to the bathroom to check on my friend.

It's not like Stan to overdo it like that. He's usually too concerned about looking cool and too preoccupied with acting that way that he lets loose. Maybe he's letting go of that...

"BLEEEEH!"

Or, maybe he's just letting go of other things.

"You okay, dude?" I call from behind the closed door. This is such a normal sound coming from Stan I do'nt worry too much.

"Fine," he voices hoarsely in between gags.

I feel kind of bad. I made him go to that party. Then again, he was happy to go. Besides, I can't control how much he drinks, which usually isn't this much anyway. Still, he's in there being sick. It's not very cool of me to just blame him. Now I'm worrying about it, and I need to stop that. I'll just tell him to chill out next time or something. I don't want Stan to end up like Kenny.

Ugh, Kenny. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was getting off to the idea of Stan and I together. Kenny's no homo, but sometimes I think he's horny with anything that moves.

"BLEEEH!"

It sounded like Stan was going to be in there a while. I know! I should run out and get him some stuff. A toothbrush, obviously. Maybe a bucket and some food. It's what a good friend, or a good fake boyfriend, would do.

"BLEEEH!"

"Ike," I call out again to the tween. "I'm gonna go get Stan some stuff, I"ll be back soon. Make sure he doesn't die."

"Kay," is his simple response. Ha, yeah he didn't listen to what I just said. We're both awesome at pretending we're listening to mom when she's telling us stuff, we've just adopted that to any time we don't want to listen.

I hop in my car and head for the store. Since Ike doesn't give a crap if Stan lives or dies, I'd better hurry back. The toothbrush should be easy to find. The bucket I can probably grab from any hardware store. I'll get the food last. Hm. They say pizza and burgers are good "drunk" foods, but I dunno what good hangover foods are. Stan might not even wanna eat right now, but at some point he'll need to refill his stomach.

Another theory I heard was making eggs. I can't eat eggs, they make me sick, but Stan surely should try. I'll make some of those. I grab the eggs and some OJ and decide it's best if I just make him a breakfast. Like the sweet and caring boyfriend I am.

In fact, since I'm officially up for the day, I can let Stan use my bed. I'll make him breakfast in bed. Ha. That'll be cool.

That party was pretty fun. I think it was better because Stan was there though. In fact, a lot of things have been better lately thanks to Stan being around. I mean, we've always had fun together, but lately...I don't know. I'm really getting a kick out of this whole boyfriend thing. It's way more fun than I should be having, I think. I guess I'm just that comfortable in my manhood. And really, how could I not be with girls hanging around me all the time? Still, it's weird I guess.

I don't WANT those girls hanging all over me though. I'd rather just have a good time with my buddy.

How many eggs should I buy? How many eggs would a possibly still-drunk person eat? One that has a sensitive stomach already. Shit, mom probably has eggs in the fridge anyway. I didn't even bother to look, I just want Stan to feel better.

I pay for my purchases and get out of the store as fast as I came in. In a few more minutes, I head into the bathroom to tell Stan the plan.

"I'm not hungry," he weakly replies.

"But you will be," I argue. "Whatever. Just brush your teeth and go to bed."

"Kyle, I can't move," he moans. Hesitantly, I pry open the door, scooting him out of the way, and sit on the side of the tub.

"You can't stay in the bathroom forever, dude." I look down at him sympathetically. His hair is matted to his forehead and his cheeks have paled to the color of MY skin. He doesn't look so hot.

"I'm so stupid," he scolds himself.

"It's not your fault dude. You just overdid it a little. That's all. It happens to all of us."

"Not to you," he mutters without looking me in the eye. Come to think of it, he HASN'T looked me in the eye at all today. And not much last night after we kicked ass in our dart game.

Or should I say Stan kicked ass in. I barely knew how to throw the damn thing into the board. It was all him. My boyfriend.

...Hm. I'm even calling him that in my head now. I REALLY like this boyfriend thing. It must be fun to say or something.

"Well yeah," I answer him. "but that's because I don't really drink. Trust me dude, you're gonna be fine."

"Sure," he snorts. Still not looking at me.

"Stan?" I ask curiously, hoping it would cause him to look up brightly like he usually does.

"What," he mumbles into the toilet bowl.

"..."

He sighs. I sigh too.

"Let's get you out of here."

I move over and slowly help him up. He sure is being short with me today. I'd be pissed off too if I were in his condition. He whines a little. He doesn't seem to want my help, or my hands to help hold him up.

"Dude, stop struggling," I insist. "I'm trying to help you here."

"No, Kyle," he pleads, but I turn him down. If he's going to struggle, I'm just going to have to pick him up.

Which is exactly what I do.

He finally stops fighting back, probably due to the shock of me going so far as to actually lift him off the ground. He still tries desperately to not make eye contact though. I'm surprised I can notice something like that, considering I'm carrying around another human being and all my thoughts should be on setting him down as soon as possible in a soft place.

Thankfully, we make it to my room.

I bust open the door and waddle to my bed, throwing him down with a soft THUD. He kind of kicks and throws a mini-tantrum, which I think is only going to make him sicker.

"Calm down, dude!" I cry out, forcing a blanket over him. "Just get some more sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

He frowns, and I swear almost looks on the verge tears, but says nothing. Jeez, what the fuck is his problem?

Despite his protests, he passes out a few minutes later. Something is definitely going on here. At least I think so, and I know Stan pretty well, so I'm probably right. It's one thing to be a sad drunk, or an angry drunk, but Stan seems to be...both right now. Add in the fact that he usually doesn't get this bad to begin with, and it's logical to assume that something is on his mind making him act this way.

My brain starts going into overdrive, conjuring up possibilities for Stan's weird behavior. Maybe he digs a girl who was at the party, and our little "relationship" will keep him from ever getting a fair chance with her.

His birthday is coming up. Maybe that has him upset for some reason? Or maybe-

"Kyle, you have a visitor!" I hear my mom call from downstairs.

Fuck. I don't need a visitor right now. I just wanna sit here, watch Stan sleep, and figure out what's going on.

"KYLE!" Ike screams loudly, knocking me out of my thought process.

I growl and decide it best to let Stan sleep peacefully. Maybe its the sleep deprivation that makes him ultra bitchy. I quietly latch the door closed and make my way down the stairs to see who's here so early in the...afternoon.

"Helloooo Kaaahl!"

Oh. God. NO!

"What do YOU want," I demand, glaring daggers at the overly-smiley fat face in front of me.

"How was your night last niiight?"

"Fine" I respond, not nearly as cheerfully. "What do you want?" I ask again.

"Kyle, let's talk shall we?"

"How about we don't?"

Cartman frowns, making his chins double. "Kahl, didn't we say we were going to put the past behind us? I have something very important to say to my friend, and you are not responding properly like a gentleman."

"Look, Eric, I really don't have time for this right now okay? Just say whatever you have to say and then leave me alone."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You see, I was just wondering why you're being so...Well..."

He takes a moment to look around, making sure no one will overhear our conversation. He leans in toward my ear and whispers to me.

"Why the hell are you being so gay lately?"

My eyes go wide, and then they narrow into little slivers. Normally, I'd be pissed as hell for him saying something like that, but truth is, I have been. Obviously. Still, it's none of his goddamn business.

Should I tell HIM the truth? He says he's my friend. Would he be able to keep a secret? Or should I lie and tell him the "truth" about Stan and I?

"Why do you think?" I respond with sarcasm, which also slickly avoids the answer to his question. "How is someone SUPPOSED to act in that...situation?"

"Yes but, it seems so strange," he explains politely. "I mean, it's so sudden. As your friend, I think I deserve to be filled in on this Kahl."

"Look, just make your little joke and leave. I don't have time to-"

"This isn't a joke dude. I JUST wanna know what's going on."

I grit my teeth. He IS being nice to me. He has been nice to me. Maybe a leopard CAN change its spots.

"Um...Eric," I say, making sure I say his first name. "Stan and I, well, we've decided to come out to the world."

I don't trust leopards worth a damn.

"...I see," he responds with a blink of his eyes,still being rather...cool about this.

I nod and continue. "And that's really all there is to tell. So now if you'll excuse me-"

"Do your parents know yet?"

"No," I say impatiently. He can tell, cause he spies my tapping foot.

"Kyle, why would you feel like you had to hide something as treasured as your feelings from me? We have made ammends," he tells me, chosing his words deliberatly and carefully. I can just tell. I'm just counting the seconds down until he'll pounce...

"We haven't been "friends" that long Cartman."

"ERIC," he corrects.

"Eric" I say with a roll of my eyes. "And I wasn't just hiding it from YOU. I was hiding it from everybody."

"Well, I guess you've decided to finally stop doing that then."

"Yeah, we have."

I'm waiting for it. Something like "about time" or "I always knew you were fags," but it never comes.

"I bet getting that off your chest is a big relief, huh Kahl?" He is still standing in my doorway with my front door wide open. Does he see that I'm not inviting him in for a chat?

"Um, yeah sure," I say. "Are we done now?"

He takes a moment to sniff the air. "What is that?"

"It's our breakfast. Meaning the breakfast for my FAMILY, of which you can have none."

"Is Stan here?" he prodded more, looking around the room. How does he do that?

"Yes," I mumble.

"Hm. Heard that he got a bit too intoxicated after I left from the party," he continues cheerily. "I trust you helped him out."

"Cartman what the fuck is your problem!" I unexpectedly burst out.

He raises a confused eyebrow at me. "Whatever do you mean Kahl?"

"THAT! That's what I mean! Just stop it, okay? Stop being nice to me! I know it's all a trick! I know you're planning something, and I KNOW you're just doing this to get under my skin even more! Well it's NOT working you son of a bitch!"

He closes his eyes and breathes in. After holding it for a few seconds, he breathes out. This is an anger managment technique, I'm sure of it.

"I'm just trying to a caring friend, asking about your life, Kahl. If you can't handle it, then maybe it is you who needs to work on being a good friend."

I growl. "I don't have time for this! Goodbye, ERIC!"

I close the door in his face and turn to head back for the stairs. Through the door as I walk away, I can still hear his fat mouth yapping faintly.

"You really need to learn to trust your friends more. Someday you'll have to let me in."

I laugh angrily until his voice fades out.

"Let me in, Kahl. Why won't you just let me in?..."

"Fucker," I mutter as I slam the bedroom door shut. SHIT, totally forgot what I was doing and who was in here.

"What what what!" Stan cried out alarmed as he sprung up into a stick-straight sitting postion. His eyes were closed, but his voice was panicky.

"Sorry" I say quickly. "It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Kyle?" he asks curiously. And for a second, I'm not sure if he's awake or not. His eyes are closed and he sets himself back into a comfortable position.

"Yeah, dude, I'm here."

He smiles before rolling over once again.

He's smiling, which means he must be feeling a little better. That makes -me- smile. I was here for him. Just like I said I'd be. Just like I'd always be.