AN: Sorry for the delay! This chap was finished last night, but I was too tired to proofread or edit. I've been helping my parents move and got roped into it again this morning.
I want to thank KennnyPlusMe, Amberr-chan, Stalker-san, simply anonymous, and CaKe. for the latest reviews. Really though thank you to everyone who's been reading and especially those who have also been reviewing. Your reviews, although terrify me over feelings of potential failure, make me very happy and flattered.
There is some French in this chap, but I will have translations at the end of the chap. The French is pretty self-explanatory though for the most part.
I don't own SP! Enjoy! Please R&R!
"My self concept is awaiting your invasion
Clumsy penetration punishment, oh yeah
When the hope of another wet nightmare
Is all we have to live for"
-Of Montreal "Id Engager"
"Bonjour classe! Attention! Aujourd'hui j'ai un projet pour vous. Les étudiants devant la classe seriez groupe un et les étudiants à la derrière de la classe seriez groupe deux. Je voudrais voir les projets complets à trois semaines. Le sujet du projet serait France cultural."
The class, those that understood all of it anyway, let out a collective groan. A project on cultural France due next week. Oh joy.
Though really, Kenny wasn't terribly upset by the idea. He was in the front half of the class, which meant that one Kyle Broflovski was now a part of his group. Not only would he have more access to the increasingly reclusive Jew, he would also benefit from Kyle's anal retentive nature. Over the past several years Kyle had become nearly obsessive with becoming the perfect student; he was certain to never let his grades slip by even a fraction. The thought of Kyle sacrificing his grade for the sake of remaining unmolested was unimaginable.
And there was the fact that no matter how little Kenny or anyone else did for this project would make sure they would all get an "A" for this project if it killed him.
When Kenny spared a glance in Kyle's direction it seemed as though he was thinking similar thoughts. Kyle looked incredibly frustrated and put-upon; it was likely he had already assumed that most of the work would end up falling to him. For one thing Wendy Testaburger, the other top student of their French class, would be in the other group as she sat in the back of the class; for another, while the class had been titled "Honors French" it was really the fourth level French class, which meant that anyone who hadn't failed out of French by that point was able to take the class. And Kenny McCormick knew how really fucking hard it was to fail out of a South Park language class…or any class for that matter. Despite that particular fact however, their class was relatively small, only comprising of fifteen students.
…Which didn't mean that they were the top students by any standard. The class average was a "C-" half due to lack of intelligence and half to pure laziness.
Kenny was a rather apathetic contributor to the latter of the two problems.
Still though, he thought as he watched the gears turn in Kyle's frustrated psyche, maybe this time he should get a little more involved with his schoolwork.
Then I can get more involved with my other "project".
In spite of his audience the blonde suddenly let out a string of high, maniacal laughter.
"Oh, Kenny est-ce que vous êtes excité parce que le projet? Je suis très fière." The young and hot, very hot and very stupid, French teacher beamed with oblivious joy over Kenny's apparent "enthusiasm".
"Oh oui madame. Je suis très excite…très, très excité." It was most French Kenny had willingly spoken all year. It was also the only French he had ever spoken that hadn't involved sexual positions or long strings of curse words.
Only their wannabe blonde teacher failed to notice the lecherous tone or the accompanying leer. When Kenny looked to Kyle he saw the other boy seemed to have developed a twitch, a very faint one, but Kenny noticed it in the corner of his right eye.
Who knew learning could be so much fun?
Clang.
It was the sharp metallic sound of a locker being slammed shut. A weary hand was still resting on the closed door, waiting as though hoping to divine answers from its cool surface.
The possessor of said hand didn't know whether to sigh or scream.
Kyle Broflovski hated group projects with a burning passion, an aversion that had stemmed from his primary school experiences. He had learned very early on that when you are the smartest and/or most driven of your peers you all too frequently end up getting the short end of the stick. That of course, was the PG version; the real story if that the best students always get figuratively fucked up the ass when placed in groups…repeatedly.
Oh how he regretted taking French now.
It had all started in eighth grade; the year that they had all been forced to choose a language: Spanish or French. Almost all of his classmates and peers had decided to take Spanish, a class that they had deemed probably easier and definitely more useful than French. Kyle had been one of the few who had adamantly refused to take the course, ostensibly because French was more fluid, intellectual, and internationally useful, it was after all the second international language; he had even tried to persuade Stan to join him through a series of well planned arguments…Stan had refused though…his exacts words had been, "Dude, when am I going to use French…like, ever?"
In the end, however, Kyle had been joined by a few of his peers, although the French department would always remain tiny compared to size of the Spanish department. The majority of his miniscule class consisted of seniors who were too lazy or stupid to move up to the next level, but he did end up sharing Honors French with Butters Stotch, Wendy Testaburger, Tweek Tweak, Token Black, and, of course, Kenny McCormick. Initially he had been pleased when his blonde friend decided to take French with him, even though the other boy's motives for taking the so-called "language of love" had been less than academic.
Now, however, he was seriously regretting that he had ever encouraged Kenny to join him.
It was a group project so, theoretically speaking, there was no need for Kenny to ever be alone with him, especially with the in-class time they'd been promised to work on this…but still, he had a bad feeling about this. He might not have had much faith in Kenny's book smarts, but the guy had more street smarts than just about anybody he knew; if there was someone who could figure out how to separate him from a group of people or subtly harass him in a crowd it was Kenny, and he had already proven that to Kyle several times over.
…And even regardless of Kenny's more sexually explicit interpretation of "working together" there was also the fact that, most likely, Kyle would be left to do most of the grunt work for this little project. The seniors wouldn't lift a finger, Kenny would pass the buck to him, Butters tried hard but had little understanding of the subject, and Tweek, who was the only other member of the group whose intelligence Kyle trusted, would most likely would most be spending his time trying not to suffer a nervous breakdown over the pressure that this assignment instilled. Why, oh why, couldn't he sit in the back half of the class with Wendy and Token…if he was back there…but he wasn't. And that was the sad state of affairs.
Moses must've really hated him.
The balloons and streamers were up and the music was blasting when his pity party was interrupted by a large, heavy hand as it slapped him on the back.
"Kyle! Just who I've been looking for…"
"So Kyle, Stan and Cartman have football, how's about we get together after school for that project thing?" He leaned casually against the wall of lockers as he watched Kyle stoically move books from his locker to his bag. "We could get a head start on it…or something."
If it hadn't been such a groundbreaking, historical moment, Kenny's academic suggestion might've been believably innocent. Kyle didn't seem to be buying it though; he turned only to quirk one red eyebrow dispassionately in return. Kenny apparently wasn't worth even Kyle's apathy because no sooner had he registered his friend's look than the lithe ginger had turned his attention back to the task at hand. The locker door shut with a metallic click.
"Can't." Kyle didn't even bother to look at him as he turned to walk away.
Kenny felt his own blonde brow furrow as his eyes narrowed. Kyle wasn't going to ignore him dammit! A few months ago he might've rolled his eyes and let Kyle be a little bitch, but now he had a rather intense desire to pull on his red hair instead.
So he did.
"Ow! What the fuck Kenny!" Kyle's hand had gone automatically to grab at the one entangled in his hair.
The accused chose to ignore that; he chose interrogation instead.
"Why're you blowing me off dickhead?" he questioned as he gripped the fiery ringlets a little tighter, weaving his fingers further into the dense landscape of hair.
"I have basketball practice asshole!" Kenny's hold was broken as Kyle pried the blonde's hand away from his head with a sudden yank. He whirled on Kenny, rubbing at the spot where his hair had been pulled instead of righting the ushanka that Kenny had shoved out of place. Kenny wasn't surprised it hurt, his hand had been rather entrenched in those tight curls, he was more surprised a hunk of Kyle's wonderful red hair hadn't parted ways with his scalp. "What the fuck is your problem man?"
He crossed his orange-clad arms petulantly. "You. You're lying. Basketball doesn't start till December." Why Kyle's lie was irritating him wasn't confusing Kenny, but why he wasn't just rolling his eyes and walking away like usual…well, he'd never done that before.
"I'm. On. Varsity." Kyle's words were slow and punctuated, full of rage and spoken as though Kenny were a particularly moronic and vexing three year old. "We. Start. Early. You know, just like I did last year?"
For a minute they stood still in time, both glaring at each other, one with arms crossed over a puffed chest and the other leaning forward aggressively as he rubbed his tender scalp. Kenny began to feel an odd discomfort creeping along his skin, making him want to look away, making his skin want to flush with some dark emotion as his pulse beat at a quickened pace. If he didn't do something he was going to start physically squirming and that was something he wasn't going to let happen, not here, not in front of the guy he'd been trying to exude power and control over.
"Whatever." He pulled up his hood pulled the strings dismissively; he sauntered past Kyle with a nonchalance that he didn't feel. "Tell me when you wanna do that shit."
And then he walked rather coolly out the door and onto the school bus just as it was making to leave.
He didn't do it on the bus as he sat next to Butters. He didn't do it as he walked solitarily past the railroad tracks to his home. He didn't do it when he closed the front door behind him to the greeting sound of his parents' bickering. He didn't even do it when he shut his bedroom door and the sounds of arguing became muted and dull. As soon as he sat down on the edge of his bed, however, he did do it.
Kenny let out one of the biggest exhales of his life; his knees went wobbly. The edges of shaggy blonde hair obscured his vision as he bent over and took several deep breaths. In and out. In and out. It wasn't really helping much, though, because he could still only think one singular thought.
What the fuck was that shit?
Ah, the smell of floor wax and the squeak of sneakers on basketball court; this was Heaven.
Kyle drank it all in. At that moment he couldn't have been more thankful that his coach had found him. He could've done without the back slap, but starting varsity basketball practice even earlier than usual was well worth it. Normally the start of basketball season, though he loved to play, stressed him because of the additional demands of his time and energy, but right now he couldn't be happier.
Basketball was something he was good at; hell, he was probably the best player in the school. Okay, so being the best at basketball didn't mean much to a football-obsessed high school, but still, it meant something to him. Basketball made him special, it was exhilarating, and, currently most importantly, it was one of the few fucking places left where Kenny couldn't bother him.
And that was indeed a rarity these days.
Especially as his latest encounter with the blonde bimbo had proved.
Kyle frowned as he touched the area where Kenny had pulled; it was mostly covered by the base of his poof-ed out ponytail. It was both odd and yet so like Kenny to pull that shit. Though honestly, he would've expected Kenny to try to molest him than to get seriously offended by his rebukes. After all, such things hadn't stopped him up until then.
"Haha, what's with the hair Kyle?" Clyde Donovan was laughing as he walked up to Kyle, freshly changed into his jersey and shorts.
His vivid green eyes flashed and rolled. "Shut up Clyde." In the humidity of the gym his hair was already coming to resemble a mini fireball behind his head and it would only get worse as they began to play.
"Dude, why don't you just shave it or something?" The brunette was still chuckling with mirth.
Kyle gave a half-shrug. "Dude, my mom would kill me. Something about denying my Jewish heritage or something gay like that."
"Mama's boy." It was said playfully. One other thing Kyle liked about basketball, he and Clyde were closer friends on the court than they would ever be off it, and it was nice to have a friend outside of his own "clique". "So, what's varsity practice like?"
"I don't know. I guess the same as j.v. I mean, it's a bunch a drills and stuff and then some scrimmage-esque games." Kyle kneeled down to double-check the laces of his hi-tops.
"You weren't even on j.v.," Clyde whined, "You went straight from freshman basketball to varsity. It's not fair."
"Don't hate me just because I'm awesome at this Clyde," he said it with a smirk as he rose from the ground.
"You sound just like Craig dude," the brunette's reply was somewhere between a snort and a whine. He laughed, though, as he saw Kyle's nose wrinkle in distaste.
"Ugh, don't even say that. Ever." Clyde laughed some more, then stopped suddenly.
"Coach is doing it again this year."
"Doing what Clyde?" Kyle sighed; okay, he liked Clyde, but sometimes it felt like you had to lead that horse to water and show it how to drink.
"Oh, uh, having some sophomore join varsity," now his teammate's face screwed up in jealousy, "He's some hotshot or something. It's not fair." The brunette was pouting…and it was reminding him, unbidden, a little too much of the blonde he had just left.
The redhead chose to roll his eyes with heartfelt disdain. "Clyde? Shut up."
The whiner opened his mouth, no doubt to let loose a complaint about either Kyle's lack of sympathy or their coach's choice of players, but was cut off by a loud whistle.
"Alright team, gather up!"
The chattering and scattered young men came to form a sort of huddle in front of their coach, the whistle now dangling from his neck.
"Okay," he started, "Welcome to varsity basketball Cows! Some of you are new to varsity, but you should all know each other from either varsity or junior varsity. We do, however, have one new recruit from freshman basketball. Everyone this is Bridon Gueermo." He pulled a boy who had been hidden in the crowd into the limelight, a boy who looked extremely uncomfortable at having such attention drawn to him. Which was understandable…especially seeing as almost the entire team was glaring at the underclassman that had come to "upstage" them. Oh yeah, Kyle definitely remembered that feeling. Being a favored underclassman amongst upperclassman was the same as being the teacher's pet…a.k.a. a popularity death sentence.
"Alright team. Start on speed drills and then we'll do some one on one. After that we'll have a practice game and I'll assess your skills. Go!" The shrill yell of the whistle dismissed them to their task.
"Kyle! Stay here a minute."
Kyle stopped in his tracks and jogged back to his coach. "Yeah coach?"
His coach cuffed his shoulder with one hand, his other still on the shoulder of the squirming sophomore. "Kyle, you and Bridon are easily my best two players and frankly, the only two here who can play without making me want to go home and drink myself to sleep as I cry over my chosen career path."
O….kay. "Uh…thanks?" It was all he could say and, if possible, Bridon looked even more uncomfortable.
"The point is, you two have talent and I'm not having you waste it on these other bozos. I want you two to work together and practice together. Kyle, you show him the ropes and teach him what you know."
"Okay," he wasn't sure how much he actually liked the idea, but he was really hoping that the sooner he agreed the sooner his shoulder would be released from custody.
"Alright then, have at it." Finally the two teenagers were left alone.
"Uh, so yeah, I'm Bridon…that was…" the younger teen looked unsure how to continue, as if he was carefully considering how to avoid further pissing off any upperclassman.
Kyle took a moment to look Bridon over; he was maybe an inch taller than himself, his chestnut brown hair was elegantly disheveled, he was more solid than Kyle but only so that he appeared lean instead of downright skinny, his slightly baby-faced look was enhanced by his large, sparkling brown eyes and long lashes, and overall he looked like he'd stepped out of a teen girl magazine. In short, the guy was somewhere between freaking adorable and sex-on-a-stick hot.
Unfortunately for Bridon, his good looks were going to be more likely to get him enemies than friends out of his teammates.
"Weird? Yeah, you'll get used to it; Coach does that…a lot. Come on, let's go do some shit you probably already know." He gave a friendly head jerk as he motioned for the other boy to follow him.
Bridon seemed to deflate a little in relief, he flashed his new teammate-buddy a grin full of perfect white teeth. "Yeah, okay."
The two spent the rest of the practice chatting and laughing, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. There was just something about Bridon, something Kyle couldn't quite put his finger on, that made him feel a kind of kinship with the guy. Maybe it was that he had also been a hated sophomore on the varsity team, but it felt like something else…
"Hey, Bridon, if you're not up to anything, wanna hang out for a bit?" Kyle asked as the two inexplicably hung back as their other teammates all headed to the locker room.
Bridon looked pleasantly surprised and pleased; he flashed Kyle another pearly-white smile, "Sure; that'd be great."
As the duo continued to talk over the barrier of gym lockers as they changed in the empty room. They were still laughing as they headed out of school to where Kyle's mom was waiting in the car. By the time Bridon left to walk home the two had practically become bosom buddies.
For the first time in weeks, between basketball and Bridon, Kyle felt truly relaxed. He still couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about that sophomore that he already felt a bond with…and it was good, really good.
He had the feeling this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
What Kyle had so easily forgotten, however, was that in the grand game of life Fate or God had decided that Kyle was only a pawn for their amusement.
The next two weeks came and went in agonizing monotony.
Kenny got up, went to school, came home, passed the time, went to bed, and woke up to do it all over again. Maybe it wouldn't have seemed so bad before, but now that he had gotten used to his daily routine of "Kyle-hunting" the days were becoming progressively duller and irritatingly boring. It wasn't like Kyle had been eager to hang out with Kenny before, but still the nearly complete disappearance of his other friends made the redhead's appearance even less likely. Damn school sports. Gaywads.
It was the beginning of November, the climatic period of the football season where the coach rode his players' asses in desperate hopes for an end of season win and culminated in a homecoming game for Thanksgiving weekend. This also meant that football practices and/or games were happening almost daily, weekends included. And then of course Kyle's varsity basketball practices…although he was completely certain those weren't happening nearly as frequently as Kyle claimed, especially since Clyde Donovan didn't seem anywhere as busy as Kyle.
Regardless, with Stan, Craig, and Cartman in football and Kyle in basketball the only times he saw his closest friends lately was on the bus and during school. Normally this wouldn't have bothered him much. Yeah, sure, last year he'd gotten kinda bored this time of year, but he'd mostly played video games and found some really awesome porn to pass the time. Hell, after the porn he'd hardly fucking cared whether his friends were busy or not. But this year seemed different.
Yeah, this year was very different.
Last year, didn't give two shits about it really.
This year he gave a shit. A big shit in fact.
His little blonde head wasn't so sure that he liked this.
Now he was caring way too much about his friends' presence or, actually, his friend's presence, one redhead to be specific; because wasn't there all he could think about was getting Kyle there and getting a blush, a sign of submission, aggression, anything out of him. Lately getting any interesting reaction out of Kyle had proved to be very difficult, read really fucking annoyingly difficult, indeed.
Oh sure, Kyle got irritated with him, got pissed at him, shoved him off or away, etc. etc., but it was almost apathetic, pro forma. Kyle would his eyes with disinterest, as though Kenny were an annoying yapping puppy, something to be mildly humored and put up with, but deemed a waste of any real investment of energy or emotion. The be-hooded devil in the orange parka had even upped the ante on several occasions, but still his little Jew was all too willing to be distracted by something other than Kenny's overt sexual harassment. The ginger had indeed become absent-minded and distracted…at least in his blue eyes, but he was certain he was right. Kyle seemed a lot happier, and more relaxed, than he had in the past couple of months, and it seemed to be preoccupying his mind; even his green eyes had become more unreadable than ever before…though it was also hard to get Kyle to look him in the eye long enough to actually study those irises and dark pupils.
Goddamn Kyle's fucking happiness.
Friends are supposed to be happy when their friends are happy. Kenny should've been happy, or at least neutral over the happiness and well being of someone he'd considered a friend since pre-school, but he wasn't. No, he definitely wasn't. He inexplicably felt a yawning hurt over Kyle's nonchalance, like there was an old but aching gash in his chest. And there was something else; he felt something very dark swirling and pooling in the depths of his gut. It was growing and spreading, but he pushed it down, ignored it and feigned ignorance over its existence. It was growing though. It was growing and it wouldn't be ignored forever.
But until then Kenny planned on pushing it down, way, way down. Sooner rather than later Kyle would be forced to work with him on this French project-thing…he could wait for that. Oh yes, he planned to take advantage of that time.
His lips quirked from a thoughtful frown into a mischievous smile of sorts, the sort that should've been accompanied by crashes of thunder, streaks of lightening, and an ominous "Mwuahaha!" His problem solved, for the moment anyway, Kenny dug under the mattress he'd been doing his contemplating on. He was feeling rather classy today. A copy of "Playboy" was retrieved from the hidden cavern of his pilfered porno mags. A contented sigh left him as his deep blue eyes became half-lidded and dreamy. Damn, Hugh Hefner was a lucky son of a bitch.
They had been there all of fifteen minutes when Butters got a phone call. The naïve boy looked reluctant to answer it; Kenny and Kyle could already guess that it must've been his parents.
"Oh, sorry fellas. I gotta answer this real quick. Hello? Dad? No, I-I don't know wh-I'm sor-Oh, okay Dad. Bye." Butters stood and started to gather his things. "I'm real sorry Kyle, but, um, I just got grounded for two weeks, so I gotta go home now."
"Dude, what the fuck did you do to get grounded?"
Kyle looked from Butters' apologetic face to Kenny's incredulous one. He'd been thinking the same thing actually. At the moment their same mental process was vaguely discomforting to Kyle.
"Well, gee Kenny, I don't know actually." Butters' forehead was furrowed in puzzlement, "But I'm sure my Dad'll tell me when I get home. See ya in school tomorrow. Sorry again Kyle."
"It's okay Butters, you can just do your part at home and then we'll put it all together in class." His red curls bounced slightly as he waved Butters off.
"Yeah; good luck with the grounding!" Kenny chimed in dismissal.
"Thanks guys," and with that Butters made his exit.
As soon as they heard him close the front door both boys stared at the place he'd just stood in disbelief. Kenny snorted; Kyle just shook his head, further shaking the curls that had been freed from the green unshanka that lay at the edge of his desk.
"That guy is either going to be one of those super freaky goody types or a fucking serial killer."
"Yeah," that was all Kyle could think to say in return. The sad part was it really was true.
An awkward silence followed. It was just the two of them now, a situation Kyle had been desperately trying to avoid. He'd put off getting their group together for the past two and half weeks and now he had no choice but to try to get everyone together. Of course it wasn't going like he'd planned or hoped for. Most of the group, meaning all of the seniors, had blown him off and Tweek, who'd promised he'd be there, was MIA. He'd been relieved beyond belief when Butters had been able to come back with him and Kenny to his house. Thinking back he realized that his voice had probably cracked in over exuberance when he said, "Oh Butters, you can come back with us? That's great! Thank you Butters, thank you so much!"
Kenny, of course, had been practically pinning Kyle against a wall with his body weight when Butters had, wonderfully, interrupted.
Speaking of Kenny, the guy was acting really weird, weird even compared to lately. The dirty-blonde had been acting rather irritated with Kyle, even his come ons and sexual advances had taken on a more aggressive tone than before. He should've just been pissed at Kenny, seriously, the guy had been practically molesting him, despite his vocal protests, for nearly two months now! But, despite what he knew he should've felt, instead he felt rather confused by the whole thing. Yeah, sure, he'd been ditching Kenny lately…and he'd been hanging out with Bridon mostly outside of school, but what did Kenny think he was going to do, sit around and wait for Kenny's next sexual attack?
Fucking Jewish guilt. He didn't want to feel it, but it was still there. He knew he was in the right, completely in the right, but Kenny's pissy attitude made him question if there was any validity to the nagging guilt in his gut.
While Kyle mulled over the everlasting dilemma that was his relationship, -no friendship, friendship!, with Kenny McCormick the two sat in an uncomfortable silence. The silence continued for a few minutes, stretching on and on. Kyle studied the faux wood grain of his desktop while Kenny lay on his bed behind him, still clad in his hood and gloves despite being inside.
Finally Kyle broke the silence.
"Have you even started your part Kenny?"
"All done. You just gotta type it up," he walked over and dropped a collection of loose leaf papers rather smugly in front of him before shuffling back over to Kyle's bed.
Kyle wasn't listening anymore though, he was scanning. His green eyes, bright with intent, were scouring each line quickly as he flipped through the few pages there. It was one of the oddest things he could've imagined. Every single line had been constructed in immaculate French.
He was beyond surprised, beyond stunned even. All he could do was shake his head disbelievingly.
"I don't get you Kenny."
Half the time you won't say a word and the other half you won't shut the hell up with all your vulgarities.
"You know this stuff, all of this stuff. Why don't you do any of the work? You could easily get an "A"."
A shrug. "Eh, don't feel like it. Too much effort. Doesn't matter anyway, s'not like I'm gonna use it ever…except to bag chicks."
He rolled his eyes. "There are other uses for French Kenny; you know, like, practical purposes?"
Suddenly Kenny sat up cross-legged to face Kyle, he pulled tightly on the strings of his up hood. "When the fuck am I going to use French Kyle? It's not like I'm going to college." Just as abruptly he flopped back down on Kyle's bed, as if to erase the sad bitterness that had laced his words.
There was a moment of tenseness before Kyle spoke.
"I think you could Kenny. I think you could go to college." Kyle's words came out so quietly for a moment he wasn't even sure Kenny had heard him. There was silence and stiffness hanging there, causing Kyle to finally look up, directly into Kenny's face. Kenny had repositioned himself to look at Kyle around the edge of the bed, his hood was down and there was an odd expression on his face; he looked vaguely stunned and pink, as though the compliment had awed him.
"Um, thanks." It was a rare moment these days when Kenny let himself appear so vulnerable; Kyle felt himself go a little pink.
"Well…it's true."
For nearly a full minute they stared at one another, both of them baring slightly darkened cheeks and a look of uncertainty. There was something both supremely awkward and supremely enjoyable about this moment. But alas, all such moments have to end sooner or later.
And sure enough, this one did and in the least romantic of ways. The blushing boys were interrupted by the shrill sound of a cell phone ringing. Kenny broke the hold of their gaze to pull said phone out of his jeans' pocket.
"Yo…huh? Oh. Yeah, alright. Cool, catch ya later."
"What? Is Tweek on his way over?" Kyle asked with some enthusiasm and relief, encouraged by Kenny's pleased grin.
"Nope! No one's coming over, it's just gonna be us!" Kyle didn't know how one person could continually shift so quickly from arrogant to blushing to feral. He himself blanched.
"What? What the fuck! Tweek's bailing on us?" In two seconds the angry redhead had whipped out his own cell phone, fingers itching at the buttons.
Kenny's words continued in the background as he vigorously pressed at the keys.
"He can't dude. Emergency football practice, so he's stuck there." But Kyle wasn't listening.
"What? What does that have to do with Tweek?" Kyle was already finding and dialing the number, he didn't wait to greet Tweek before grilling him. "Tweek, what the hell? No-Tweek-Tweek! Just shut up! Craig! Give the phone back to Tweek, I need to ta-What! Fuck you Craig! Fuck you you fucking asshole!" Kyle snapped his phone shut, he looked, and felt, vaguely enraged.
"Craig kidnapped Tweek?" He could've sworn he heard a pleased smirk in Kenny's voice.
"Yeah," he grit out, still seething. Somehow he couldn't help but think Kenny and Craig had somehow planned this. He couldn't believe he had just complimented the asshole a minute ago. He spun back in his chair to glare at his desk.
"So, guess it's just us then." Behind him Kenny's voice was suddenly very low and very close to his ear.
"Whatever Kenny. Just let me finish this goddamn thing, okay?" he muttered, his stress and anger were being taxed beyond belief.
"And what if I don't let you finish, huh Ginger?" Kenny's long arms found themselves draped around Kyle's neck; Kenny's voice was even huskier and closer to his ear, he could feel Kenny's hot breath on his neck. Despite himself Kyle felt himself shiver a little as his pace quickened; he shifted slightly to disguise it.
"Then I'll kick you out and tell Madame that you didn't do anything and I'll let you fail the project Kenny." Kyle snapped after he regained composure, and his voice.
"Fine. Whatever." There was a sudden coolness in his voice and where his arms and breath had once been. To his great surprise the messy blonde sulked off to Kyle's bed and flopped back down on it, staring at the ceiling and ignoring Kyle's questioning expression.
Giving up on Kenny, Kyle finally turned back to his desk with a sigh. He knew he shouldn't, he really, really shouldn't, but he felt an ache of longing for Kenny's arms again. It was weird. It was almost…
…like he wanted Kenny to touch him.
"Bonjour classe! Attention! Aujourd'hui j'ai un projet pour vous. Les étudiants devant la classe seriez groupe un et les étudiants à la derrière de la classe seriez groupe deux. Je voudrais voir les projets complets à trois semaines. Le sujet du projet serait France cultural." - Hello class! Attention! Today I have a project for you. The students in the front of the class will be group one and the students in the back of the class will be group two. I want to see the complete projects in three weeks. The subject for the projust will be cultural France.
"Oh, Kenny est-ce que vous êtes excité parce que le projet? Je suis très fière." - Oh, Kenny are you excited because of the project? I'm very proud (pleased, etc.).
"Oh oui madame. Je suis très excite…très, très excité." - Oh yes madame. I'm very excited...very, very excited.
See you soon on the next chap! Please, please review...it makes me smile :)