For a second Eric's body was frozen with unease, helplessly fixated on the sight before him. Beyond the glow of the hallway the room was cast in darkness. The only thing keeping the inky veil at bay was the television, screen hissing with the crackle of static.
Slowly Eric turned to his hostess, "You want me to go in there…?"
Nancy nodded, smile not helping in the slightest.
"Yeah, no." He spun on his heel, fully ready to find his husband. The talons digging into his arm, however, weren't helping matters.
"Please, Eric! I reallllllllyyyy need your help." Nancy's hand drifting down, the sharp points of her fingernails scraped against the skin of his arm, causing white lines to emerge. He shuddered at the sensation, shaking free of her grasp.
"What, and be some sacrifice for a demonic blood pact? No thank you. As soon as I step in there, some creepy little girl in a white dress will try to jump me." He rose a brow at her confused expression, "Samara Morgan? Haven't you seen the Ring…?" Of course she hasn't.
To escape this awkward situation, he stepped into the void. "Jesus," he mumbled "what's the deal with these nut-jobs." Blindly his hand brushed against the wall, eventually finding the light switch. It only took a few seconds until his eyes adjusted to the brightness, quickly surveying the room around him. The layout was decorated in the same retro style as the rest of the house, insanely tidy - like someone had too much time on their hands. Absently he swiped his finger along the surface of the night table, next to the bed, scoffing when it came back dust free.
All too aware of the eyes locked onto him, Eric crossed over to the t.v., shoving it forward so he had enough space to kneel behind it. He grumbled when his knees made a horrible cracking sound, deep within the joints. "Kill me now" he mumbled, wishing he was back home, watching Alien High in his comfy bed. Tammy and Veronica were supposed to go to Probe-coming together in this latest episode, and instead of enjoying it he was here, for God knows how long.
It was hard ignoring his concern, but he tried anyways. Not that Marcy wasn't doing her best to make him feel welcomed, but Kyle couldn't help but notice the lingering stares from the other guests. They gave off the impression that he was some weirdo, as easily identifiable in his casual clothing than if he was painted in rainbows.
Wordlessly he filled his cup with more of the punch, undoubtedly spiked. Kyle's slight buzz clearly confirmed that suspicion, but not his theories as to why it was taking so long for Eric to return. Marcy hadn't really told him anything, just ushered him into some corner; both literal and metaphorical.
Maybe it was because she was embarrassed over her neighbours obvious whispers and gawking, or perhaps she was ashamed of Kyle, and his open relationship. Either way, he didn't care. Not wanting to dwell on it, he took another lengthy sip from his cup.
"I was starting to think you were avoiding me, Marcy."
He frowned when he glanced up, watching as this stranger cut off Marcy's attempt at small talk. She was relatively the same height as his companion, maybe an inch or two taller. The trivial information that he gathered, however, didn't matter. In a second he realized she was Mady, thickly wrapped in layers of clothing that made her look bigger than she actually was. Though her hands seemed to shake with every breath, and her skin was etched and gnarled, Kyle was captivated by the strength in her eyes.
They made her appear younger, alight with a fire that had Kyle unknowingly smiling.
She'd get along with Eric, he thought.
"Of course I'm not, I've been here the whole time! It's not my fault you're blind."
With a loud scoff, Mady gently smacked her sister's hand. "Be nice!" her gaze slid over, "And who's this handsome man beside you?" She gave a lazy wink, smirking as she said, "I don't think we've been introduced? I'm Mady Brookes, the good-looking one."
"No we haven't; Kyle Broflovski-Cartman." He gently shook her hand.
Mady turned to her sister, "I can't believe you were hoarding this eye-candy all to yourself!"
"Don't flatter yourself Mady, it won't help."
Cringing at the sister's conversation, Kyle quickly polished off the rest of his drink. Cup empty, he mumbled an apology, making his way over to the drink table before they could say anything. Just like its surroundings, the punch bowl was delicate, made from a heavy crystal. Of course it matched the cups, roses engraved into the sides with feathery lines.
Grabbing the ladle, he scooped up some of the plum coloured liquid. Mindful of it sloshing, Kyle glanced over his shoulder. Still no Eric, where the fuck was he?
Back in the kitchen, Betty, Barbara, and Sandra made easy work of the jello, each taking huge chunks with a slice of their spoons. Neither of them were surprised with the taste, it was typical stuff. The kind you served in little cups at a child's birthday party, with a dollop of whipped cream on top - overly sugary.
And yet, Betty was the first to reach the 'fruit', and went as far as to try to cut the string attaching it together. She frowned when her spoon couldn't go through, it was a shock, she had thought it'd be soft like the rest of the dessert. While her two friends were busy swallowing their mouthfuls, she tentatively touched the uncovered portion. It was hard like a stone, but slippery from its surroundings. Confused, she immediately reasoned it was similar to other fruits with a hard surface, for instance, a coconut. You just had to crack it open.
Placing her spoon momentarily on the counter, she grasp a hold of one of the sphere parts, thankfully the one the size of a pea. Leaning down so she could put it in her mouth, she bit down.
"Shit!" She cursed, jaw aching.
"Are you okay, Betty?" Sandra whispered, turned timid by the loudness of her friend's voice.
"It's like a jawbreaker" she mumbled back, cringing at the bland taste. She could have gotten the same effect by biting into a rain boot.
"Try sucking on it(like a dick)."
"Don't tell me what to do, Sandra." And in a move she'd later regret, she drew more of the peculiar fruit into her mouth, unaware that specks of vibrant blue jello decorated the corners of her mouth. Barbara and Sandra could do little but watch on.
Eric Broflovski-Cartman, technological expert. Once again he had saved the day, soon having the television flickering back to life. That's what he told himself, glossing over the fact that it had taken him a full five minutes to realize that a single plug had fallen out. He wasn't embarrassed that it took that long, not at all..
Nancy didn't seem to mind, she still gave an over exaggerated cheer. As loud as if he'd done something actually useful like cure cancer, instead of getting a piece of shit t.v. to work. The sound of the broadcasting channel, the image of a blazing fireplace, filled the room. It made Eric's groans muffled, something he was pleased about as he climbed up from behind the t.v.
Not thinking too much as to why Nancy needed the television on during a party(especially in a closed off room), he lumbered over to the bed, happily sighing as he laid down. His aching back was eagerly cradled by the mattress, touched as gently as if an angel was holding his spine. He was so bewitched by the sensation, that it made the action of lifting his head a million times harder.
How did she even find it? I thought it only came on during the holidays? Eric thought as he stared at the filmed fireplace.
The spitting of the fire was loud, to the point where Eric remained oblivious as the door softly closed. Hushed by the carpet, the only thing that had Eric remembering Nancy was still in the room is when she whispered, "I can't thank you enough for helping me."
"Don't mention it," Eric yawned. Kyle would have his balls if he wasn't polite, that's the only reason he was here.
"You're too kind."
Eric snorted, he was anything but that. He turned his head to the side, amused state leaving him unsuspecting. His heart stopped as he jolted, he hadn't expected her to be right beside him - face inches away as she leaned down.
"...You're, ah… really stepping into my bubble.. Aren't you?" The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, causing him to frown as he tried to sit up. Key word there, tried. Nancy's hand shoving at the middle of his chest stopped that movement just as it had begun. Bewildered, Eric froze as his hostess climbed over him, seating herself squarely on his lap. "Uhh…" he glanced around the room, "am I on some candid show? I'm being filmed right now, this is some stupid prank?"
"Oh, Eric, always a joker." Nancy's smile deepened, "I'm just trying to give you a reward."
The severity of this situation finally dawned on him, "Yeah no.. I think you skipped your meds' you crazy broad, but I'm not about to-" She pressed her finger against his mouth, catching him off guard as her other hand reached for the front of her white blouse, slowly unbuttoning it until her pink ruffled bra was revealed.
He squinted, holy shit why is her underwear from the eighties? It's like she played some bitchy prom queen, but stole the clothes from the set. The whole time he found everything highly unappealing, even when she ground herself downwards. In fact his dick was probably sucked into his body, never to be seen again.
Sick of this insane person dry humping him, he slapped the hand away from his mouth. Being fucking awesome, it wasn't that hard to overpower Nancy and shove her off. The only thing that still linked them together was her legs wound around his waist, which tightened to a vise when he moved them. The unexpected strength behind it had him gasping, pain digging into his hips until he bent forward.
"C'mon get the fuck off!" He hissed.
Nancy's eyes had turned wild, losing her once well put together appearance. Hair a mess and shirt caught between her elbows, her nails broke the skin of Eric's back. "I swear to God," he grunted, "If you don't get off I'll break your fucking nose!" Their stuck bodies fueled his rage, the gasoline to the destructive anger of having fingernails buried into your flesh. The fact that his shirt had no protective qualities already had him gritting his teeth.
"Eric stop lying," Nancy whined, "I know you want me. I see how you look at me.."
There was only one thought running through his mind, I'm going to kill-
him..
Kyle took another swig, finalizing his commitment. With a heavy heart he set his cup down onto whatever surface his foggy mind could find, only partially stumbling. He pushed the reality of his state back, that he had gotten hopelessly drunk at some block party.
Pissed and frustrated, he reasoned there was only one thing to do. To find his husband and fuck him in some closet, there he'd maybe get some satisfaction. It wouldn't take much to convince Eric, he was always more than happy to mess with people - especially if sex was added to the mix. The problem was finding him, that was a whole other story.
Dragging his feet, he weaved through a crowd of people, solely focused on not falling flat on his face. Everyone blurred together, a series of faces that he forgot as soon as he looked away. He was more fixated on making a checklist of the rooms he visited, each getting a frown as he looked inside.
Living room? No.
Dining room? No.
Kitchen? No one was in there but a group of women, suspiciously huddled in the corner. He moved on.
Backyard? No.
Bathroom(s)? Of course not.
Office? Zilch.
Kid's bedrooms? Nope.
And finally, the master bedroom. If Eric wasn't there Kyle was going to rip his hair out and scream, he had officially run out of places to look. Not bothering to knock, he swung the door open and started to call out, "Eric get your ass in-"
Nancy was laying on the bed, that didn't surprise him, this was her house after all. What took him aback was the sight of his husband, hovering over her panting body. Their locked form froze, eyes wide as they both stared at Kyle.
Eric was the first to comprehend how to speak, floundering for a second with an opened mouth before his voice came back.
"K-Kyle, I know this is a cliche, but this isn't what it looks like…" Distracted, Nancy's legs easily slipped off of Eric when he tugged on them. On his way to getting out of the bed, Eric tripped, crashing to the ground.
"Fuck!" He couldn't let it deter him, wincing he forced himself to get back onto his feet. "You know I don't.." Exasperated by his husband's blank expression and persisting silence, he suddenly snapped, "Kyle I don't like chicks! You fucking know this!" He grasped the dazed man's hand, "Babe c'mon.. Talk to me!"
The warmth of a hand shook Kyle of his daze, wordlessly his grip crushed Eric's. Resonating gasp piercing his chest, Kyle held Eric's sounds deep within him. It drove his feet to the door, dragging the other along as he made his leave.
"Wait!" He paused at the scramble of feet clattering, upon them in an instant. Nancy was pressed against Eric, fingers hooking into the fabric of his shirt. "You don't understand! He came onto me!" The dazzling blues of her eyes were begging him to listen, desperate for it.
"What?" Eric choked, caught off guard.
Later he'd regret it, not because of the action but of the shit-storm that would approach. Noiselessly he turned around, striking the face next to Eric's shoulder. He didn't wait to listen to the crying, nor did he watch as she crumpled to the floor, nose erupting in a stream of red.
Eric sputtering was enough for Kyle, once again robbed of his vocal abilities as he was dragged from the bedroom and down the hallway.
"Dude" Eric croaked; what the fuck… The hand around his wrist made him wince, but he wouldn't dare adjust it. Not even when Kyle awkwardly rounded corners in a jarring sway, close to clipping the walls. He figured it best not to spur him on further.
Crossing the living room had them passing the joined kitchen, a path for a panicking woman to intersect. Directly cutting them off, Kyle and Eric came to a confusing halt. Even more so when the woman hunched over, grasping at her throat. Immediately Eric recognized what was dangling from her mouth; Gurgling around the stringed object, Betty frantically sought help, vision clouded by her tears.
Without thinking Kyle grabbed the end, and yanked it down in one swift movement. Indifferent he stepped around the woman, now kneeling over as she violently retched. The contents of her stomach were tinged blue, sugary scent clashing with the acidic bile had others covering their noses.
No one noticed as the door slammed shut behind the Broflovski-Cartmans, the guests too preoccupied with crowding around Betty, while Barbara and Sandra knelt by her side. And like a cruel joke, the anal beads remained in a puddle of spit and vomit. Somewhere in the background, the record skipped.
