RED STRING
Author: the pink striper
Rating: M for language and sexual humor/situations. And Kenny.
Pairings: Stan/Kyle, Kenny/Butters, Cartman/Wendy, and other minor pairings.
Summary: Stan Marsh has decided that he wants more out of his super best friendship with Kyle Broflovski. A lot more. What starts as a simple experiment quickly spirals out of control, which, in a town like South Park, is never a good thing. Meanwhile, Kenny McCormick decides that high school is a waste of his time, much to Butters Scotch's horror, and Eric Cartman decides to follow Wendy Testaburger to Harvard. Let the games begin.

x

"I've seen myself in a thousand faces strung out on life's path. I would add up what you mean to me, but I cannot do the math and this fashionista's garden party, well, I had enough of that. I'm a special lover sometimes, but you only touch a ghost. I'm a sycophantic courtier with an elegant repose and needless to say you're the one that I need the most 'cause the only one I come undone for is you. I know I'm done and now I see the truth. I know I'm done, come undone for you. I'll tell you what you mean to me and maybe then you'll see."
Come Undone by Vanessa Carlton

x

MARCH

x

It wasn't that Kyle didn't like studying with Wendy, because he did, but in the weeks leading up to the SAT, he often found himself sitting alone at a table hidden in the back of the library. He didn't know what had happened to her, but Wendy seemed to have lost focus on the test entirely and spent their study sessions either half-heartedly complaining about Cartman, or not saying anything at all. Either way, her distraction was distracting him and the last thing he needed was for Cartman to score higher than him on the damn test again. He didn't think he could manage a perfect score, but he could definitely try.

So, yes, maybe he was hiding from his boyfriend's ex-girlfriend, but he didn't have time to help her through whatever neurosis Cartman had drawn out of her this week. And, though he loved a good Cartman slamming session, he didn't have time for that either. After the test, sure.

He was grading what had to be his sixteenth practice test when a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders and he tilted his head back to rest against Stan's shoulders and pressed a kiss to the line of his jaw.

"Seriously?" Stan groaned when he saw what Kyle was working on. "Don't you take a break?"

"What means this word 'break'?" Kyle joked as Stan slid into the seat next to him. He found himself unable to stop smiling now, watching Stan unpack his things out of the corner of his eye and attaching the title 'my boyfriend' to him for no reason other than pure enjoyment. His boyfriend was looking for a pencil. His boyfriend was checking it for lead. His boyfriend was staring at him oddly. Stan Marsh was his boyfriend. Kyle was glad he wasn't a giant girl or anything because this would probably have been the moment where he screamed into his pillow.

Stan covered Kyle's hand with his own and smiled warmly. "I'm happy, too."

Kyle blushed, but didn't move his hand. "I forgot that you could read my mind like that."

"Not all the time. Sometimes I have to work at it. You were just being really obvious about your uncontrollable lust for me right there."

"You wish it was uncontrollable."

Stan's gaze fell from Kyle's eyes to his lips, then flicked back up again. "Maybe."

Kyle spared a moment to double check that there was no one—especially the PDA-hating librarian—in the immediate area before scooting his chair closer and meeting Stan's kiss head on. He curled his fingers around Stan's face to keep him from deepening the kiss too much because, uncontrollable lust or not, Kyle was not getting caught grinding against him in the school library. In the last few weeks or, as Kenny called it, the honeymoon stage, he'd noticed a running tendency for himself to lose his ability to think rationality when Stan looked at him or spoke to him or, especially, kissed him. He had ended up in Stan's lap without any memory of climbing there at least three times and there had even been one point where Stan had pulled Kyle's hands out of his jeans and reminded him that he'd wanted to wait. That had been a particularly embarrassing moment of weakness, although it had reminded Kyle of why exactly Stan was the best person he'd ever known.

Stan pulled away first, but only to push his chair even closer and flick his tongue out along the curve of Kyle's jaw. Kyle's head tipped back with a sharp exhale, his hands sliding up to rest on Stan's chest and trying not to do anything more than that. It was about that time that his eyes fluttered back open just enough for him to catch sight of the SAT book sticking out of Stan's bag and he immediately shoved Stan off him.

"Oh, I see what you're doing," Kyle breathed, pulling the book out and putting on the table in front of his guilty-looking boyfriend. "Nice try, Marsh, but there's one more practice test left in this one and you're going to do it."

Stan groaned and rested his forehead against the book. "I hate you. I hate you a lot."

"No, you don't," Kyle said.

"No, I don't," Stan agreed.

"Did you finalize your list of colleges, yet? I need to make sure we match."

Kyle waited as Stan sighed and dug through his bag for a wrinkled piece of paper. They had sent their PSAT scores to all the colleges Kyle had chosen because, at the time, Stan still hadn't made up his own mind about what he wanted to do just yet, but the SATs were different. They were important. And Stan had ultimately decided last week that he perhaps wanted to become a veterinarian, which had led Kyle to spend the weekend looking up appropriate majors and schools and giving him a print-out to study. From the looks of the print-out Stan handed back to him, however, it was evident that Stan had just stuffed it to the bottom of his bag and forgotten about it until now.

Kyle glared at him.

"I've been busy," Stan insisted. "With you."

"I am not an excuse not to do your work," Kyle countered, though he couldn't help but be flattered. "And the sooner you do your work, the more time we have for," he raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Other stuff."

Stan, who had been slumped in his seat with all the reluctance of an eight year old who didn't want to take a bath, sat up and swept his eyes over Kyle's body. Then he grinned. "I do like other stuff."

A red hue to his cheeks, Kyle tapped his pen against the paper and drew Stan's attention back to that. By the free period was over, they had narrowed the list down to twenty-five colleges, none of which were Ivy League. Stan stretched his arms up over his head, back arching like a cat, his shirt riding up enough to flash a strip of pale white skin which Kyle couldn't resist the urge to cover with his hand.

Stan glanced at him, then at his hand, then at him again. "Oh, am I turning you on?"

"You know exactly what you're doing," Kyle said throatily. "And it's not going to work."

"Kyle," Stan's eyes softened into a deep, deep sapphire blue. "You know I'd never push—"

"I know. And that's why I—why we're together. Why I'm together. With you." Flushing, Kyle grabbed his books and stuffed them into his bag. "I'll be late if I don't—"

Stan took his hand and brought it to his lips in a fairytale kiss that was as corny as it was sweet. "Wanna hang out after school?"

"I can't. I have practice, which I'm already going to be late for because I have to pick Ike up from school—"

"I'll pick up Ike," Stan offered, not quite able to hide his disappointment. "It'll give me an excuse to hang around your house until you get back. And then we can hang out."

"You want to waste an afternoon babysitting my bratty brother?"

"I want to waste the afternoon hanging out with my boyfriend. If I have to babysit his brother to do it, then I will. This is like the nadir of what I'm willing to do for you, Kyle." Stan grinned. "That's an SAT word. See how I did that?

Kyle nodded, not trusting himself to speak anymore. He showed his gratitude by leaning down to peck Stan on the cheek, then did the mature, healthy thing and fled the library. His legs wobbled and he had to hold on to the wall as he made his way down the crowded hallway, wondering if there would ever come a day when he would look at Stan and not want to stay with him forever. Things were going so unbelievably well that Kyle couldn't help but wondering when the other shoe would drop, when Stan would change his mind and break up with him, or cheat on him, or something. His life had never been this good. It couldn't last.

Could it?

The one constant in his life had always been Stan. The one person who had always been by his side, supporting him, joking with him, loving him in his own way, was Stan. When Kyle felt like he was completely alone, like everything was hopeless, it was always Stan there breaking him out of it. Stan, offering without hesitation to give up his kidney to save Kyle and stealing Cartman's kidney when the first plan didn't work. Stan, wheeling him out of the hospital to see karma finally catch up with Cartman just when Kyle was ready to let the bumps on his ass take him to the next life. Stan, rescuing him from Blaynetology and Jewliard and the revenge of the Crab People. If there was anything that Kyle could count on, it was that Stan would always be there.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest. He was so fucking in love with Stan that it was pathetic.

He realized with a start that the hallway was empty and he was hugging himself with his back pressed against the wall. He also realized that Butters was standing awkwardly in front of him, concern all over his face.

"K-Kyle, what's the matter?" Butters asked once Kyle focused on him.

An almost maniacal smile tugged at Kyle's lips. "I'm in love, that's what's the problem."

"Oh," Butters nodded as though he understood. "That's a real big problem. But only if you make it one."

Kyle eyed him suspiciously, but there was nothing but the usual naïve openness on Butters' face. That was one of the many reasons Kyle had never really minded hanging out with Butters the way Stan and Cartman had. In a town like this, Butters was taking a risk everyday by just being exactly who he was and some part of Kyle admired that. Butters was a complete and total artard, but an admirable one. And he made a good placeholder for when they couldn't find anyone better to hang out with.

Butters scuffed his shoe against the tile. "It's just—Love's a happy emotion, ain't it? It's supposed to make you happy to be around someone you love. Torturing yourself with it isn't what it's all about. I-It's supposed to make you feel good to be in love, not miserable because the person you love doesn't love you back. That's missing the whole point."

"Like you and Kenny didn't make each other miserable for years," Kyle snapped without any heat. He hugged himself a little tighter. "What if he—"

"Do you regret it?" Butters asked cautiously. "Loving Stan?"

"No," Kyle responded immediately. "No, I can't imagine how it's possible not to love him."

"Then what're you sad for?"

And with those words of wisdom, Butters was hobbling down the hallway in a manner that suggested that his weekend in Aspen had been well worth the trip. Kyle wondered where he was going for the briefest of moments before he realized that Butters was clutching a paper bag and was going to skip class to meet Kenny for lunch. He never thought he'd see the day that Butters Scotch would skip class, but he supposed that was what love did to you.

Kyle stopped hugging himself, surprised to find that he was actually feeling better. What was he sad for? He was in love with a guy and his parents were supportive and he was going to college with his best friend and he wasn't an idiot like everyone else in his podunk town. His life was kind of awesome.

Late, but for once not caring, Kyle went to class with a huge smile on his face.

x

"Okay, I admit it. I like Eric Cartman!"

Bebe choked on her black beans, her face turning red from the effort of clearing her windpipe so she could breathe. Her eyes immediately darted to Wendy, who was pale as a sheet of paper and whose lips were drawn into a thin line.

"I-I'm sorry. What did you say?" Bebe wheezed, wary of making her repeat it.

Patty Nelson was busy staring at Wendy with all of the fire of a boxer preparing for his next match. "I said, 'I like Eric Cartman'. Going with him to the dance was the best thing I've ever been paid to do and," her chin lifted. "If he asked me out, I wouldn't say no."

Bebe chanced a look at Wendy again. There was a snapped pencil in her hand. She seemed poised to grind it into pulp.

"Oh," Bebe continued with a long sip of her juice. "That's—oh."

She reached over with her free hand and pried Wendy's fingers apart, allowing the little pieces of wood to fall onto the table. Patty Nelson started to look a bit pale herself, but it was obvious from the set of her jaw that she was not about to retract her statement any time soon. Bebe wished the other girls hadn't picked up their trays and left when Patty Nelson had sat down; she was certain that the right amount of peer pressure would get Patty Nelson to take back her claim on Cartman and, thereby, extend her life span.

"So, you…." Bebe sighed, already opening her bag. "Want me to put you on the list?"

"Yes, please."

Although the council of girls had been forcibly disbanded due to a certain corrupt list and a certain attempt to gun down Wendy, Stan, and possibly Kyle, there was still one list that Bebe was in charge of keeping even all these years. The list contained the names of all the boys in the class as well as all the girls they were dating or who wanted to date them. It had been officially formed after a dispute between Esther and Sally over who got to date Bridon Guermo one week had nearly come to blows. If a girl liked an available (or even unavailable boy) and planned to pursue them, Bebe was informed and would put their names on the list, which gave them priority over any of the other girls who planned to do the same. If a boy liked a girl, Bebe was also usually informed as that, obviously, caused a shift in priority. And if a girl wanted her name removed from the list or placed under a different boy, they started at base one all over again. It was a pretty efficient system, if Bebe did say so herself.

This, however, was problematic. This… would not end well.

She placed the list on the table, found CARTMAN, ERIC, and picked up a pen to pencil Patty Nelson in between Lizzy and Heidi. Heidi had only admitted a slight attraction on her part while Lizzy had been throwing herself at Cartman—and, to be fair, every other guy in class—since she first discovered sex. Wendy's name wasn't on the list at all.

"Alright, you're in," Bebe said uncomfortably, folding the list and putting it back in your bag. "You have to tell Lizzy what you're doing, though, because she's got legal priority over you and she's a notorious cockblocker."

"She's not the only one," Patty Nelson said with another dirty look in Wendy's direction. Then, she wisely picked up her things and flounced off.

Bebe watched her go before turning to look at Wendy for the third time. She had gone from pale to absolutely livid to… well, Bebe wasn't sure what kind of expression Wendy was sporting, but it was troubling.

"I had to put her on," Bebe said just in case Wendy was suppressing rage toward her, too. "You're the one who taught me not to be corrupt with the lists and—"

"I have a boyfriend," Wendy snarled. She then cleared her throat and made her tone a little less hostile. "I mean, I…"

"Speaking of boyfriends…" Bebe placed a hand on Wendy's shoulder and jabbed a finger in the direction of the table where Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Butters were sitting with a few of the other boys. Kyle was enjoying a fruit cup and the works of George Eliot from the comfort of Stan's lap. A trickle of juice escaped his mouth and Stan wasted no time in licking it off, much to the disgust of at least one other member of the table. "I guess I'm glad someone around here is in a healthy, functioning relationship—"

"Patty Nelson is such a slut," Wendy interrupted, sounding hostile all over again. Bebe was kind of glad Patty Nelson was gone because Wendy was now holding a fork and she would have hated to get blood all over her fuzzy sweater. "Does she even realize what she's doing? Because I don't think she does."

Bebe realized what Wendy was doing, but she didn't think she wanted that pointed out to her while she was still holding a pointed object. "I could start telling people she gave Eric Cartman a BJ at the Valentine's day dance. I could have that all over school by next period."

"That's not good enough," Wendy was silent for a moment, eyes clouded with thought. It was the scariest thing Bebe had ever seen. Then, Wendy began to smile and Bebe reevaluated her opinion. That was the scariest thing she'd ever seen. "I know what to do. You don't even need to get involved. I'll take care of it."

"Wendy," Bebe felt the need to remind her. "You have a boyfriend."

"And you're a natural blond. What's your point?"

"My point is… don't you think that maybe Token deserves a little better than how you're treating him? I mean, he's a nice guy and he really likes you."

Wendy stared at her. Honestly, Bebe had no idea why she even bothered.

"Nevermind. Do what you want."

"Your concern is noted and appreciated." Wendy gathered her things and left the lunch table, walking in a brisk pace over to Kyle's table. Token was sitting there, watching Cartman eat his weight in tater tots and exchanging bets with Clyde on, Bebe assumed, how long it would take the fatass to throw it all back up again. He perked up when Wendy approached, even more so when she kissed him in a way that was completely disproportionate to the conversation she'd just been having, then swept out of the cafeteria in a flurry of black and purple. Token stared after her, dumbstruck but in no way displeased. The poor bastard.

Bebe felt bad enough for him that when he glanced up to see her looking at him and smiled, she smiled right back. Poor, poor bastard.

x

Kyle had caught up with Stan around eighth period. Stan hadn't even gotten the chance to say hi before Kyle had shoved him up against a locker and shoved his tongue down Stan's throat.

Not that Stan had minded in the slightest. He'd gotten used to Kyle fleeing from potentially emotional moments like a scared little girl fleeing from the Ouji board at a slumber party, mostly because Kyle usually came back slightly apologetic and twice as affectionate as he was before he'd run away. It was a defense mechanism, though why Kyle thought he needed to defend himself from Stan was a little beyond Stan's ability to comprehend. He didn't mind working his way past Kyle's walls. He'd been doing it since they were kids. Besides, the flush to Kyle's cheeks and the shy little smile on his face as he'd pulled back had done wonders to remind Stan why it was all worth it. He would have volunteered to pick Ike up every day of the week if it got Kyle to smile like that.

He was reflecting on it as he pulled into the parking lot of South Park Middle School. He'd left as soon as his free period had started, figuring he'd avoid the post-school traffic block and sleep in the car while he waited for Ike's class to let out. Being at the middle school brought back memories.

There was a tree with a tire swing on the other side of the lot, both of which were wrapped with caution tape. Cartman and Kyle had discovered a parallel universe in there in which they all had super powers and Cartman had of course used that to his advantage to a) kill Kyle and b) take over the world Lex Luthor style. It had taken Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Butters to stop the real Cartman from trapping them all in there and assassinating his other self so he could have the pleasure of killing Kyle all over again. Hopefully, the caution tape had done its job and no one else had fallen into that bizarre world.

Stan caught a glimpse of motion and squinted at the tree, noticing for the first time that there was a kid on the other side of it. He saw a black sleeve and a flash of black hair, but he couldn't see much else without hurting his neck. He squinted a little more, saw a little thread of smoke winding into the sky, and smiled in recognition. It was Georgie, the youngest of the Goth kids, sneaking a smoke outside. Stan had no idea what he was doing at South Park Middle School instead of out behind the high school with the rest of his nonconformist elementary school dropout friends, though. If he wasn't careful, he'd get spotted by a teacher and actually be forced to go to class.

He turned off the car and got out, sticking his hands in his pocket and slouching as he wandered over. He hadn't hung out with the Goth kids in years, but he knew he could probably get a couple of words out of Georgie because he was slouching and happened to be wearing a black shirt.

He slowed as he approached the tree. He could hear voices, one belonging to Georgie and the other belonging to someone who definitely didn't belong behind a tree with a Goth kid when he was supposed to be in class.

"—cancer. There have been studies to prove it. And, even if there hadn't, the surgeon general even says it on the package," Ike Broflovski was saying in an overly intelligent voice. It was the same tone that Kyle used when he was trying to avoid a topic by applying cold, hard science. "You're going to die."

"Only conformists read the surgeon general's warning, Broflovski," Georgie responded predictably. "I've been smoking since I was in Kindergarten. If I haven't died by now, I don't think I have to worry for a few more years."

"But—"

"If you want a drag, you could just ask for it."

There was a long pause followed by a sharp inhale followed by Ike coughing and wheezing. He heard Georgie chuckle.

"You don't need to impress me, Broflovski. I'm not your parents or your teachers or the faceless mass of sheep that shuffle hopelessly from place to place, never questioning the iron grip that society has got them locked in while they—"

The sudden silence made Stan nervous. Hell, the whole situation was making Stan nervous. He hesitantly stepped closer, stepping carefully around the tire swing until he could see the two seventh graders. The two seventh graders who were making out.

"Holy shit!" he shouted, blowing his cover. Ike yanked back so fast that he banged his head against the tree and Georgie dropped his cigarette then stomped it out before it could set the grass on fire.

"Stan!" Ike cried, clutching his head. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What the fuck are you doing? Here? With him?" Stan gestured wildly. "Kissing!"

"I—" Ike's cheeks reddened. "We were just hanging out. It's not even anything—"

"Relationships are conformist," Georgie said as he lit a new cigarette. "I prefer my sexual entanglements to be tantric, if not outright deviant. Currently, I'm experimenting with polyfidelity and—"

Stan gaped at Ike, who turned even redder. "I hadn't agreed to that yet."

"Yet? Does Kyle know about that you're skipping class to have tantric sex with Goth kids behind trees in the parking lot?"

"We're not having sex! We're not doing anything!"

"Sorry, Broflovski, but I'm not really into the whole 'meet the pseudo parents' thing. I'm going back to the high school." Georgie looked at Stan and shook his head. "I used to think you were cool, Raven, but mainstream society always gets them in the end. Later."

Stan and Ike watched him stalk off, the former stunned and the latter wistful. Stan noticed the longing on Ike's face and returned to gaping at him. Maybe if he stared long enough, his retinas would reset themselves and he could forget the horrible, horrible sight of his best friend's little brother making out with Georgie behind a tree.

"Are—Are you even going to try and explain yourself or are you going to spend the car ride home begging me not to tell Kyle?"

Ike was silent for the second it took him to regain the defensiveness that ran in the family. Then he had the balls to actually glare at Stan. "I already told Kyle I was bi-curious so you can tell him whatever you want. Be sure to tell him you're a total cockblocker, too! What are you even doing here?"

"I'm doing my boyfriend a favor and picking his brother up from school! Apparently, I'm also saving his ass virginity in the process!" Stan snapped back. Ike wasn't Kyle. He didn't have to be nice to Ike. "You're a fucking genius and you can't figure out that boys who want to make out with you behind trees during school hours aren't the type of boys you want to date?"

"Kenny makes out with plenty of boys behind trees during school hours and he seems to be doing just fine with his boyfriend!"

"That's because Butters is a total pussy who probably wouldn't say anything even if Kenny was still making out with other boys behind trees during school hours! And, anyway, there's a huge difference between someone like Georgie and someone like Kenny! Kenny loves sex because he loves making other people feel good; Georgie just wants to get his rocks off!"

"I fucking know that," Ike screamed in frustration. "But even if Kenny was single, I am, as he keeps reminding me, total jailbait and he wouldn't touch me anyway!"

"Yeah, well—wait, what?" Stan blinked as Ike's cheeks reddened all over again. Then his eyes widened in realization. "Dude! You—You like Kenny?"

Ike averted his gaze. "I… I like a lot of people."

"Dude."

"Okay, so I like Kenny more than most people." Ike covered his face with his hands. "Please don't tell Kyle. God, don't tell anyone."

"Dude."

"Could you please say something else?"

Stan grappled for a moment, but the only thing he could come up with was, "Oh my god."

Ike sighed. "Well, I'm not going back inside. How about you just take me home where I can lie on my back on the floor of my room with the lights off and the stereo playing every emo song known to man?"

"Don't you," Stan cleared his throat. "Don't you need your backpack and stuff?"

"Fillmore will bring them when he comes by later. Let's just get out of here."

"Right. Um. Okay."

The walk back to the car was uncomfortably silent. Stan knew he should say something to make Ike stop looking so miserable, but he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the impossible idea of Ike and Kenny. He couldn't comfort Ike because Kenny was so in love with Butters it was almost ridiculous and probably had the good sense not to go messing around with underage boys anyway. He couldn't even offer any advice because he hadn't even known that Kenny and Ike hung out often enough for Ike to have become so attached.

And if Kyle ever found out… well, that'd just be a clusterfuck right there. Because Kyle would tell his mother, who would complain to the principal that some kid was leading her son to skip class and then, once she realized the Goth kids never went to class, would start petitioning for more stringent truancy laws. Or, Kyle would cut out the middleman and tell the principal himself. Either way, Ike would be screwed (and not in the way he wanted) and the Goth kids would put Stan on their shit list for forcing them to go back to school or risk being arrested.

Stan snuck a peek at Ike and was surprised to find the boy already staring at him.

"Look, you don't have to worry about me," Ike insisted, pausing in front of the passenger side door. "It's just a stupid crush that I'll get over. And I'm not jealous of Butters or anything because Kenny's my friend and I want him to be happy. I'm just fooling around until I figure out what I like. If that turns out to be boys, well," his lips quirked into a smile. "Hopefully, I'll find a guy who will love me as much as you and Kyle love each other."

"Hopefully," Stan agreed without thinking and it wasn't until Ike had already gotten into the car that his brain caught up with him. "Wait, what?"

x

Kenny should have been tipped off when Butters came straight into the garage instead of waiting by the door until he happened to slide out from under a car and notice him. Butters never interrupted him at work no matter how important he was. In fact, he was pretty sure that Butters would probably bleed to death by the door rather than bother Kenny for some bandages. So that should have been his first clue.

His next clue should have been when Butters actually agreed to making out in the backseat of the car Kenny was fixing up. Butters was always afraid they'd get caught or that the people would come and pick up their car and smell all the semen and, also, Jesus was watching. That should have been his second clue. But Kenny was so damn happy to see Butters and he had a boner the size of Texas so it caught him completely off-guard when Butters pulled back from sucking his neck to say, "I'ah think you should try and get your GED."

"GED?" Kenny asked, blinking through the sexual haze to try and make sense of this sudden lack of physicality. "That some new brand of lube you want to try?"

"No, it's a test," Butters straddled him, brushing his fingers distractingly across the fabric of Kenny's wife beater, an adorable flush to his cheeks. Kenny tried to surge up to kiss him, but Butters just pushed him back down. "The General Educational Development test. It's five tests you take to get your high school diploma without actually having to go back to school."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll even help you study and everything!" Butters sounded way too excited for someone who was talking complete and total nonsense. "And even if you don't pass the first time, you can take it three times a year and—"

"No." Kenny pulled Butters' hands off his chest and then sat up until Butters was straddling his lap and staring up at him with a hurt expression. "I'm not doing that."

Butters began to pout. "Well, why not?"

"Why should I?"

"Because… because you gotta get your diploma, Kenny! You can't just—"

"I can do whatever I want." The mood had been completely killed by the conversation. Kenny shifted until his back was against the car door and Butters took the hint, crawling out of his lap and sitting on the other side of the seat, clenching and unclenching his fists. Kenny was dying for a cigarette. "I have a paying job that I didn't need a fucking high school diploma to get, Butters. I don't need to waste my time taking some equivalency test."

"It ain't a waste of time! It's your whole future!"

"My future is a carburetor and an oil change and, if I'm lucky, my own garage. A high school diploma has nothing to do with that."

Kenny could tell he was annoying Butters with his refusal, but he wasn't going to apologize. He had already accepted that he didn't belong at South Park High School anymore. He had already accepted that he was never going to college. He had already accepted that, in all likelihood, he was going to be working in a garage for the rest of his natural life. All of those things were pretty much givens, so why was Butters trying to push this diploma thing? What was Kenny supposed to do with a fucking diploma? Frame it and wish he wasn't a poor washout from a town in the middle of nowhere?

"If it doesn't matter whether you have it or not, just get it!" Butters insisted, punching Kenny in the leg with a glare. "All you gotta do is study and I'll help you with that! It's not a big deal."

"If it's not a big deal, then why are you making it one?" Kenny shot back. "Why's this so important to you?"

"Because I'ah care about you and you can't get anywhere in life without at least a high school diploma!"

Kenny's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I'm not getting anywhere being a mechanic?"

"No, I-I'm not—" Butters began, but Kenny was already opening the door and climbing out of the car. He stuck his head back in and jabbed a finger toward the exit.

"I need to fix this. Show yourself out."

Slamming the door behind him gave him a little bit of pleasure, but he headed out back to have a smoke instead of hanging around to watch Butters leave anyway. If he looked at Butters now, the anger twisting in his gut would melt away too quickly for comfort and he'd end up promising Butters anything if it got him to smile again. And Kenny refused to take that test.

There was already a couple of guys outside when Kenny got there. He bummed a cigarette off of them and lit up, fingers shaking until the sweet, sweet nicotine calmed him down. He hadn't even been outside for a minute yet and he already felt like he'd overreacted. He just hated making Butters upset…

Kenny squared his shoulders, took a long drag from his cigarette, and stubbed it out under his foot. He was not taking the GED, whether it upset Butters or not. He had work to do.

x

On the morning of the SATs, Stan was cramming last minute information into his head. Or, more appropriately, Kyle was cramming last minute information into Stan's head. He clutched at Kyle's belt loops, mouth open to pant as Kyle nibbled along his jawline and whispered, "Define imbroglio."

The hot rush of air against his face had Stan whimpered, but he still managed to stammer out, "A misunderstanding resulting in ill-feeling, strife, or perplexity." He had to, because if he got an answer wrong, then Kyle would stop touching him and if Kyle stopped touching him, his balls would drop off from the sexual frustration.

Kyle caught his lips in a messy kiss, more tongues than lips, warm hands cupping Stan's face and stroking his cheeks. He slid his hands around to Kyle's ass and squeeze, gasping as their crotches brushed together and biting the skin of Kyle's neck. Kyle moaned so loudly the whole house had to have heard it, then shoved Stan back on the bed and attacked his mouth enthusiastically. Stan lost himself in Kyle's hands and mouth and body until his phone began to chime, reminding them both that they would be late for their test if they didn't leave right the fuck now.

Stan kissed Kyle slowly. "We have to go."

"Mmm," Kyle responded, returning the kiss. "Okay."

"Seriously," Stan repeated, tilting his head for a better angle. "We should really—"

"Yeah," Kyle slid his hands down Stan's body and under his shirt. "Sure."

"Dude," Stan lost his train of thought when Kyle slid his way up Stan's body until he was straddling his chest. "Um."

"We have to go," Kyle reminded him, kissing Stan one last time before getting up and holding out a hand to help Stan up as well. "Do you have enough number two pencils?"

Stan wasn't sure whether he wanted to strangle Kyle before or after he pulled him back down and molested him a little more. He decided on neither, accepting the help and adjusting his clothes so as not to give Ike any more reason to tease the two of them about the pornographic connotation they'd given to the word "sleepover". They spent a few minutes checking and double checking their supply of number two pencils and calculator batteries, then headed downstairs.

One slightly awkward breakfast (Stan wasn't sure he'd ever get used to Kyle's parents knowing exactly what he was doing with and to their son and just not caring) and a car ride later, Stan was kissing Kyle goodbye before they went to their separate classrooms for the test. Stan glimpsed Cartman in the classroom Kyle had gone into and sent up a little prayer on Kyle's behalf, hoping Cartman wouldn't try and do something stupid, like sabotage Kyle's grade. He settled down in his chair and stared out the window, trying not to get nervous. Sure, the SATs were pretty much the most important test he'd ever taken in his life, but that was no reason to panic. If he failed them, he could just take them again and still have time to apply to the same colleges as Kyle…

Stan felt his palms begin to sweat and clutched his pencil a little tighter. Kyle had told him that he would do fine and Kyle was practically always right. A small smile crossed his face as he thought of what else Kyle had said.

"And, think of it this way. If you get a good grade on your SATs…" Kyle's eyes went dark with sinful intent. "I'll blow you."

Stan, who had been in the middle of a practice test at the time, nearly choked on his own spit. "Really?"

Kyle smirked. "Well," he lowered his gaze to Stan's crotch, then slowly dragged it back up. The smirk widened. "Why don't you ace your test and find out?"

Stan had to think of Mrs. Broflovski naked in order to keep himself from physically reacting to that memory. God, Kyle was so… and he was so… and this whole situation was just… Wow.

The proctor began handing out papers and Stan carefully filled in the appropriate bubbles, his mind drifting to Kyle yet again.

Kyle had fallen asleep on him in the middle of watching TV and Stan was lying on his back on the couch, his arms wrapped around Kyle's waist, his chin resting on Kyle's head. It was the warmest and happiest he'd ever felt in his life.

"Stop staring at me, you creep," Kyle murmured, opening his eyes and drowning Stan in their drowsy depths. Then, he smiled. "Or continue. I don't care."

Stan could feel something heavy and thick in his chest, something good, magnificent even. And layered over that was the intense urge to kiss Kyle. Which he did. Thoroughly.

Kyle laughed softly when he drew away. "I like you."

"I like you more."

"Oh, are we one of those couples now?"

"Fuck no," Stan wrinkled his nose. "I do like you more, though."

"Somehow I really doubt that, but whatever." Kyle cuddled up close. "As far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened."

"Agreed."

Stan chuckled softly to himself, his previous nervousness completely forgotten. He hoped that Kyle's test break lined up with his. They may not have been able to discuss the test, but Kyle would probably get a kick out of hearing what his motivation to pass happened to be.

x

Bebe found Butters sitting forlornly at the bus stop after the SAT had been administered. She didn't have to think very hard to guess that Kenny had had a lot (if not everything) to do with the depressed look on Butters' face, but she figured she should probably talk to Butters before she went to go and hunt down Kenny for screwing up the best thing he had going for him. She approached Butters slowly, sitting down next to him on the bench.

"So," she began, thinking of the most tactful way to phrase her question, then throwing caution to the wind. "What'd that fucker do now?"

"Huh?" Butters perked up a bit when he noticed her, but not by much. "Kenny didn't do nothing. I'ah was just pushing him and he got mad at me, but I'll just go an' apologize and it'll be fine. I'ah just—"

"Oh, please, Butters. I have a hard time believing that whatever argument you and Kenny had was your fault."

Butters began mashing his knuckles together. "I'ah was just bugging him about getting his high school diploma and I'ah made him sore at me."

Bebe rolled her eyes. Honestly, Kenny was such an idiot sometimes that it amazed even her. "It's not your fault Kenny's too damn stubborn to acknowledge that he has potential. I'm just sorry you have to put up with him."

"K-Kenny's the best guy I know," Butters said, coming to his boyfriend's defense with a loyalty that was touching. "He's real smart and funny and he takes real good care of me and Sunday and he can fix practically anything and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Bebe waved a hand dismissively. "You're in love and Kenny craps gold bricks. Give him a couple of days to cool off and then talk to him again. Sometimes, he just needs a few days to realize he's wrong. Which he is."

Butters bit his lip nervously, but nodded. Then, he glanced at her. "What about you, Bebe?"

"What about me?"

"How come y-you're not talking about your idiot boyfriend? You're not still single, are you?"

Bebe could feel her hackles trying to rise and pushed it down. Butters was an innocent. He didn't mean to offend her and she couldn't take her frustrations out on him. She couldn't tell him anything, either. Butters could keep a secret better than anyone, but he also found it a little hard to comprehend complex things like manipulation and betrayal. Still, she decided to throw him a bone.

"Let's just say that my love life is the last thing I've got to worry about with so much shit happening around me," Bebe said with a sigh. "I just wish some people would get their heads out of their asses and stop being complete and total bitches!"

Butters blinked. "Are you and Wendy having another fight?"

"Not exactly. I'm just… I'm afraid she's going to do something monumentally stupid and get hurt and I'm trying to keep her from screwing herself but she just won't listen to me! No one ever does!"

"Maybe you oughta give her a few days to realize she's wrong?" Butters suggested, smiling.

Bebe smiled back. "Yeah, maybe. But you know Wendy. Even when she's wrong, she'll still act like she's right to save face."

"Y-You could try getting Token to talk to her. He's her boyfriend, ain't he? He might have some kind of sway with her."

That was the whole problem, Bebe thought even as she nodded. Besides, Wendy was about as likely to listen to Token as Cartman was to join the priesthood out of the goodness of his heart.

The bus arrived. Butters got to his feet and gave Bebe one last smile. "Well, th-thanks for the advice, Bebe. I really appreciate it."

"You hold on to your man, Scotch. Kenny's lucky to have someone like you loving him this much. You tell him to stop being a dick to you!"

"I'm the lucky one," Butters insisted, smiling going from friendly to fond. "But I'll, ah, pass on your message."

"You better."

Bebe waited until the bus was out of sight, then looked back at the parking lot of the school to see if there was anyone she could beg for a ride. Wendy had already left and Bebe had been planning to walk back home, but Stan, Kyle, Token, and Clyde were still lingering and Bebe was still attractive. She trudged back to the parking lot, ignoring the first two entirely and grinning radiantly at Token and Clyde.

"Which one of you wants to be awesome and drive me home?"

Clyde looked at Token.

Token looked at Clyde.

Bebe tucked a blond curl behind her ear and grinned even more radiantly.

"I'll do it?" Token said at last. "But I'm dropping you off at the first bus stop we come to if you try to change my radio station to that 24-hour pop shit you and Wendy are always listening to."

Clyde sniggered. "Dude, you are so fucking whipped."

"Shut the fuck up, dude."

Bebe ignored them both and went to wait by the Bentley, wishing she'd just caught a ride home with Wendy. Or suffered through watching Stan and Kyle make eyes at one another and hitched a ride with them. Or gotten on the bus with Butters. Or… well, she was about to climb into a Bentley. Why was she even complaining?

Token joined her in a moment, holding her door open for her before getting in himself. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Wendy, too. Do you—"

Bebe changed the radio station and turned it up as loud as she could stand. Token took the hint and the rest of the car ride was passed in silence.

x

Eric Cartman wasn't exactly surprised when Wendy Testaburger sought him out Monday morning. The hippie bitch had been having full-on eyesex with him practically every day since the dance and Cartman was enjoying every second of it. There weren't very many men who could brag that Wendy Testaburger was like putty in their hands and, okay, Cartman couldn't brag that either, but she totally wanted him. Bad. Maybe even as bad as he wanted her. Hopefully, there was some hate sex in his future, but he would settle for what he could get. For now.

"Ho," he greeted pleasantly when she found him smoking behind the school and sat down next to him. "To what do I owe the nightmare of your presence?"

"I need a favor," Wendy said primly, sitting with her back straight and her entire body as far away from him as she could get it. "You are the master of complex schemes, after all."

Cartman raised an eyebrow. "You want me to help you destroy someone? Is it Kyle? Please say it's Kyle?"

"It's not Kyle," Wendy snapped. Then, all the heat drained out of her voice and she just looked grim. "I want Patty Nelson completely and utterly ruined. Bonus points if she transfers schools. Or moves."

"Getting rid of the competition, eh?"

"There is no competition, fatass," When they locked eyes, Wendy's were bright with something very promising. "Can you help me or not?"

Cartman might have kissed her then, but he managed to rein the urge in. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, watching the smoke from his cigarette disintegrate into the air, then shrugged. "Nah."

"What?" Wendy sounded as though she didn't know whether to be shocked or pissed off. "Why not?"

"A little competition is healthy, bitch," Cartman said as he got to his feet. "You'll be learning that lesson soon enough."

"What does that even mean?"

Cartman looked down at Wendy, sitting with her legs folded under her, her dark hair covered by a pink beret, her blue eyes wide, and her lips a dull pink. His hands itched to touch her, but, again, he reined it in and began to leave, lifting one hand in a wave.

"Good luck with Patty Nelson. She's a feisty one."

"Cartman!"

He paused, raising an eyebrow at her. Wendy had gotten to her feet and was staring at him, vulnerable and hurt.

"I thought—" The look disappeared, replaced by indignation. "You're such a fucking asshole, Cartman!"

"And you're a fucking bitch," Cartman said pleasantly. "We're a perfect match."

Wendy's cheeks went red. "Why are you doing this to me?"

There were a multitude of ways that Cartman could have answered that question. He could have told her that he loved her so much that he hated her, or hated her so much that he loved her, and could never decide which emotion was more dominant at any given time. He could have told her that he'd been watching her run around with that black asshole Token since last year and he was sick of chasing her and getting shot down. He could have told her it was revenge, it was a game, it was just to annoy the crap out of her. He could have told her that he wanted her almost as bad as he wanted to break her. He could have told her that he wanted to protect her from the world and himself almost as much as he wanted to shove her out into the wild and see if she could handle herself.

Instead he shrugged again and said, "I fucking hate you, that's why."

"No, you don't," Wendy took a step forward, hesitant but determined. An odd combination. "You don't hate me, Cartman. Just like I don't hate you. We're just—it's just habit. You insult me and I insult you and I get mad and you—it's a fucking routine, it's not even—things aren't like that between us anymore."

"And what are things like between us exactly?" Cartman asked, intrigued despite himself. "'Cause I'm pretty sure there's a mutual hatred thing going on."

"No, it's different," Wendy stepped forward again, darting a quick glance around to make sure they were alone. "I'm different. The way I look at you is… different. I look at you and I see… I see…" she averted her gaze, but didn't stop closing the distance between them. "I see someone I might… someone I might have more in common with than I ever realized."

Cartman let her get close enough for him to touch, then stuck his hands in his pockets. "That sounds like an open letter to Dr. Phil."

"Oh, shut up, Cartman," and then she was reaching up, her fingers hovering centimeters away from his face. "I know you don't hate me. I know you're looking at me differently. Why don't you just say how you're feeling?"

He felt himself tremble just a little bit and the mere fact that he was even considering it had all warning signs flashing.

"Because I have a dick, that's why," Cartman stepped away from her and turned. "I'm not fucking helping you with Patty Nelson. Stop whoring yourself around behind your boyfriend's back and leave me the fuck alone."

"Cartman!"

"Fuck you, hippie!"

This time, he didn't stop walking until he was safely inside and away from the Wendy Effect. He half expected to turn around and discover that she'd followed him, but of course she hadn't. Because, in the end, Wendy would do the Right Thing and go back to her boyfriend and wash the stench of deceit and Cartman off her. In the end, Wendy was corrupted, but she was not corruptible. Cartman couldn't touch her enough to pull her off her pedestal and she would never stoop to his level for long.

Patty Nelson passed him in the hallway, making eye contact and smiling as she did. Cartman had to smirk. But maybe a little competition was exactly what they both needed to work out a resolution. If not, there was always plan b.

x

Ike was having some kind of Jeopardy marathon with his nerdy friend Fillmore and a couple of their other classmates, an event that had taken up the entire lower floor of the Broflovski house. Kyle hadn't been able to stand an hour of it before he was out the door, screaming that he'd be at Stan's for the rest of the night and no one was to call him for any reason whatsoever.

He was greeted at the door by Randy Marsh, who was eyeing him with something like resignation. "Kyle."

"Hi, Mr. Marsh," Kyle said uncomfortably. "Is Stan here?"

"I think he said something about going to McCormick's." Randy leaned against the door and looked Kyle up and down. "Eh. He could have done worse."

"I—I don't know what you're talking about, sir," Kyle had already started backing away. "I'm just going to go find Stan."

"Yeah, I'll bet you are."

Kyle wasn't exactly running or anything, but he was walking a lot quicker than he really had to. If there was a single conversation he never, ever wanted to have with Stan's father, the I'm-having-carnal-relations-with-your-son would be tops on the list. Luckily for him, years of playing basketball made the long walk to Kenny's less of a hassle than it needed to be. He didn't need to worry about getting jumped in Kenny's neighborhood because he was so scrawny and pale, people naturally assumed he was broke as hell. It worked well for him.

The door was open when he arrived, mostly because Mr. McCormick was passed out drunk in the doorway. Kyle stepped over him and made his way to Kenny's bedroom without bothering to knock. Stan lying on the bed in some kind of complicated tangle with Kenny, who was tracing Stan's belly button with his index finger. Neither one of them glanced up when he came in.

"I'm so glad you two aren't fucking, because otherwise, this would be a little insulting," Kyle said as he pushed the door shut behind him and took off his shoes. He didn't have to, because Kenny was still wearing his and he was liable to get tetanus walking around barefoot, but he just couldn't stand being in bed with his shoes on.

He climbed into bed and plastered himself on the other side of Stan, one hand resting on top of Kenny's head, the other underneath him. Stan immediately tilted his head in Kyle's direction to greet him with a kiss.

"This would be so hot if we were all naked," Kenny informed them helpfully. "Just a suggestion."

Kyle raised an eyebrow at Stan. "He and Butters on the outs?"

"Sort of," Stan replied. "Kenny's being a dick and Butters is giving him space."

Kenny sat up, giving Kyle more room to snuggle with his boyfriend, and ran his fingers through his messy blond hair. "I'm not being a dick. If I don't want to get my GED, I shouldn't have to. And Butters isn't giving me space. He was just here twenty minutes ago to take Sunday for a walk."

"You guys didn't touch each other and he was in such a hurry to leave that he stepped on your dad," Stan said, tracing the curve of Kyle's spine. Kyle sighed, content. "If that's not giving you space, I don't know what is."

"Wait," Kyle interrupted. "Butters wants you to get your GED? Dude, that's an awesome idea. You're not coming back to school next year anyway. What's the problem?"

Kenny scowled. "The problem is I don't need a high school diploma to work in the garage. Why should I waste my time studying and my parents' money paying the exam fee and go through all that just to take some stupid test that'll take a whole one or two days to finish?"

"Because if you get fired from the garage or, god forbid, decide you want more out of life than a spark plug, then you'll have the GED and won't have to worry about being forced to go back to school just to get qualified!" Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Obviously."

Kenny looked away.

Stan pulled Kyle closer and then pushed them both up into a sitting position. Kyle shifted so that he was sitting next to Stan with his head on Stan's shoulder, unable to keep from touching Stan even with Kenny in the room. All the pressure that had seemed to be building on him since the beginning of the year seemed so insignificant now that he'd taken the SAT. Now, he just wanted to relax and enjoy the time he had with his boyfriend. He didn't particularly care if Kenny was there or not just as long as he was spending the time with Stan.

"Look, dude," Stan said in that rational voice that tended to make the people around him stop and listen. The same voice that kind of turned Kyle on a little. He was a sucker for logic. "What it basically boils down to is this. If you don't think you can accomplish anything greater than fixing a car, then that's all you. But Butters wants you to at least keep your options open. Getting your GED is the best way to do that. I mean, unless you want to actually come back to school—which I wouldn't recommend after all the trouble you went through to drop out."

"And," Kyle continued, picking up where Stan had left off. "You need to prepare for every eventuality. What if your boss at the garage discovers how old you are? What if you get fired or laid-off? What if you need to get a second job? A high school diploma is the minimum requirement for even the bottom of the barrel jobs, Kenny. You'll save yourself a lot of grief if you just take the tests."

"Plus," Stan finished. "You and Butters can go back to fucking all over the place and blinding people. The two of you are much happier and more bearable that way."

Kenny didn't move or speak for such a long time Kyle began to wonder whether or not he had heard them. Then, slowly, he got to his feet.

"I'm going to go and talk to Butters…" he murmured, grabbing his parka from off his three-legged chair. He turned to them first and smiled. "Thanks, guys."

"Hey, dude, no problem." Stan turned his attention to Kyle in a way that made Kyle feel very, very happy. "We're going to make use of your bed while you're gone. Hope you don't mind."

"Just try not to get any stains anywhere. I just did the laundry for the first time in five months this morning."

And with those disgusting parting words, Kenny was gone. Kyle didn't have too much time to think about that, though, because he was suddenly on his back with Stan between his legs, kissing him. Kyle kissed him back, dizzy from the unexpected passion, body arching upward as Stan's hand unexpectedly brushed the bulge in his jeans. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to lose his head, but the touch was not an accident. A second later, it happened again, more firmly this time, intense pleasure sparking throughout his body and his lungs squeezing painfully in his chest in a desperate bid for air.

"St-Stan?" Kyle managed around his gasps. "Wh-What?"

Stan's hand paused then relocated to Kyle's thigh, still uncomfortably close to Kyle's dick. Stan then kissed his cheek before pulling back just enough to whisper, "Sorry. I couldn't help it. I just—It's really hard to not touch you sometimes. And you—" he smiled wryly. "You're really fucking sexy, Kyle."

"Okay," Kyle tried to think about unsexy things. "That's—Okay." He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from begging Stan to touch him again. "It felt… really good."

Stan buried his head against Kyle's neck and whispered something else.

"What?"

"I said," Stan was giving him that look again. "I really hope I aced the SATs."

Kyle's cheeks flushed at the reminder. "I—I hope you do, too. Because. College."

"That, too," Stan grinned flippantly and Kyle forgot all about his embarrassment in his haste to kiss that smug look off Stan's stupid face.

By the time Kenny and Butters returned to the McCormick house, Kyle had enough hickeys to open a museum on his neck and Stan had lost his shirt somewhere in the mess that made up Kenny's floor. But at least they hadn't stained the bed.

x

Author's Note: Forty-page chapters can't cut it all the time so this one is about half that! I really hope you enjoyed it, though, because they break up in May. Ike's going to be heartbroken for a while. You can expect the April chapter on April 26th. And two of the characters in this chapter have been carrying on a secret off-screen relationship since December. The first person to guess which two gets the pleasure of finding out before anyone else which one of these statements is your April Fools' Day joke! Ready… go!