The taillights of a red rusted truck faded off down the road, snowfall engulfing them in the nighttime blizzard.
Kyle leaned against the doorframe. His blanket wrapped over one shoulder while wearing in an old t-shirt and school sweat pants. He stared off down the road aware of the dreamy look he wore with glazing eyes. His pale skin was numb to the blend of warmth from his house behind him and the chill of the outside while he still clung to the feeling of Stan's arms around him just moments before.
Knowing that he could've been risking a cold, Kyle turned away from the tire tracks in the snow being quickly filled in and back into his home. The living room quickly took him into its warmth, the smell of dinner still wafted in the air.
The night wasn't meant to be romantic. Kyle didn't expect much from Stan driving him home and joining him in their studies, which usually lead to playing video games or reading comics and eventually Stan's departure. Yet something felt more intimate about this time.
Please… Kyle doubted his inner thoughts. It's been two days, I can't just expect him to drop Craig and suddenly realize he's in love with me…
Passing his father on the couch and up the stairs, thoughts plagued his mind of the path he and Stan were at the foot of-one that could potentially bring them together. It wouldn't take much; with the history they had and the fact that they were nearly inseparable, but-
The bedroom groaned when he fell against it, his shoulder meeting the wood with a thud as a hand lazily grips the handle and turns. Kyle slipped inside and moved to shut it behind him. The thick red curls mashed against his forehead and the door, his eyes shut as he attempted to ward off the doubting voices around him and Stan.
Instead, a smile grew on his lips. He turned to face the room; He pictured Stan standing in the center, his hat joining his on the floor as the jock's tattooed hand slips around his neck and pulling him in. He imagined lips crashing to his, arms taking him into a strong chest and his scent as he is pulled back with him onto the bed.
Once his eyes opened he his only met with the ceiling lamp, he having walked and spun around to fall back against the sheets alone to hear the groaning bed frame. Emerald eyes tracing over the dried starting of paint droplets, briefly remembering the maddeningly dull sick days spent trying to count each one.
Maybe I'm being too wishful… He tossed the thought, rolling over to stare at the clock by his bedside before eventually falling asleep with thoughts of the boy.
"Stanley-come down here this instant!"
Stan cursed the morning, this mother's shrill voice shattering any hopes of remembering the actually pretty decent dream he was having. W the sleep from his eyes, he rose from his bed and pulled out a roll of bandaging from his bedside table to cover the healing ink.
"Stan!" His father chimed in, knowing him Stan figured he was being forced to by his mother to be involved. "Your mother-uh, we need to talk with you!"
"I get it," Stan groaned descending the steps, "I'm coming!"
When bare feet met the final step, Stan was met with his parents at the couch in his living room; his mother, Sharon, stood with her arms crossed and already dressed for the day with a brown button up and jeans. His father, Randy, stood still in his bathrobe, clutching a white mug of fresh brewed coffee with its steam rising over his tired eyes mid sip.
Stan gulped as he made his way to sit on the couch before them. "What's up?"
He jerked back when his mother grabbed his left hand and ripped at the bandaging. "Whoa, whoa! Uh-ow!"
"Give it a rest, Stan!" His mother sighed, revealing the heart. "How long have you had this?"
Randy took a closer look at his, narrowing his eyes and nodding. "Boy, whoever did this needs some practice."
"The thanksgiving party," Stan sighed, "Kenny gave me it."
"McCormick?" Randy mused, "Figures. Boy's got his father crafts all right, down to his shit steady hand."
"Randy, this is serious!" Sharon scolded. "Stan, tattoos can be detrimental to finding a job! What were you thinking getting it on your hand? Were you drunk?"
To this Stan turned away from her, only to hear his father chuckle and his mother sigh.
"Oh come on, Sharon. The boy is going through the early stages of becoming a man!" Randy cheered, looking back at his son. "Bet you got this for your girlfriend, aye son?"
Stan paled, subconsciously biting his lip. "Uh, yeah. Wendy."
"Are you seriously condoning this?" Sharon turned to her husband, running her hands through her hair with a groan. "Our son starts drinking and you hardly scold him! He comes home with a tattoo and lies about it for a week and you're proud of him?"
"Aw, but he's just growing up," Randy said, wrapping his free arm around her waist. "Remember all the stupid things I did to get your attention?"
Sharon sighed, staring at the floor. "I do, but I don't want our son to not be able to earn a scholarship or get a job because of a poor decision made wasted at a party."
Stan glared. "Mom, I wasn't wasted!"
His parents only looked back at him, Randy knitting his brow.
"Ugh, I'm going to get ready for school." Stan glared at the floor as he rose from the couch and made his way back to his room. Randy shook his head and laughed.
"Our son is going to make that girl a happy wife," He said holding Sharon to his chest, who pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
Kenny sat alone, by choice he held his spot on a bench outside by the high school's gym as fingers poking out ripped gloves toyed at the wrapping of a pack of cigarettes. His silent frustrations voiced only in the steam seeping through gritted teeth; his numb fingertips failing at scratching the plastic.
"Now that's just depressing."
Kenny snapped his head up and glared at the voice's source. "Fuck you! It's cold as shit and I need a smoke."
Craig rolled his eyes and made his way to stand before Kenny. He held out his hand and gave a Kenny a pitiful stare.
Kenny glared at the boy for a few moments before letting out a sigh and handing over the pack. Craig pulled at the golden strip that clearly read pull here to McCormick's blank stare.
"Wow," Craig said in mock surprise, "Cartman's right. Poor people can't read."
Kenny snatched the pack back, "Fuck off, Tucker."
"You're welcome, it was no trouble." Craig replied, sitting down besides the parka-clad teen.
"Whatever, what do you even want?" Kenny spat as he brought a cigarette to his lips, "And don't even try to get on my good side just because you agreed to leave Stan alone."
Kenny dug his hands into his parka's pockets in search for a lighter while Craig stared up into the sky-The closer Colorado got to Christmas the less blue he saw in the sky, the more silver shinning clouds crowded above the town and mountains around it.
Snow crushed beneath his boots as he stood back up, Craig's empty expression fell somewhat. "Nothing."
Kenny's fingers found the clear blue lighter in his coat. "Nothing?"
"I mean," Craig stood faltering slightly, "the fuck do you expect?"
Kenny shrugged, lighting the cigarette in between his lips and breathing in. "I don't expect anything. Actually that's a lie. I expect you to be pissing and moaning to Token or Clyde about this shit, not me."
A gust of wind came through, the wind chill snatching the smoke off Kenny's lips while Craig glared in silence. "In fact, after all this time I figured this wouldn't bother you so much."
Craig subconsciously took a step back when Kenny's crystal blue eyes snapped to his from beneath the fur of his hood. "What's that supposed to mean?" Craig barked back.
Kenny chuckled. "Nothing."
The two watched each other, a battle of blue eyes between them in a smoking silence before Craig closed his and walked passed Kenny. The hooded blonde watched the steaming Tucker stomp off and around the side of the gym while he smoked, a slight smirk on his lips at his handiwork.
"Hey, Kenny!"
"Oh goddammit," Kenny brought a hand to his face as Clyde Donavon came running up to stand before him panting. "If you're looking for Craig, he fucked off in that direction." He said, waving a hand down past the gym.
Clyde caught his breath before speaking. "I was actually looking for both of you, but I guess Craig backed out of it."
Kenny furrowed his brow while taking a drag. "Out of what?"
"Why are you so against him being with Stan?" Clyde asked, hand on his hips.
Kenny chocked on the smoke and his chest, lurching forward. "Ugh, what?"
"Like ever since he and Stan started hanging out you've been more a dick than usual," Clyde frowned. "I get he can be just as much of a dick-I should know because I probably spend more time with him than anyone…"
Kenny mouthed a few blah-blah's as Clyde continued, "…but when He was with Stan in whatever they were together he was…" Clyde shrugged, "I don't know, happy."
"Why is that my fault?" Kenny asked, taking another drag and blowing smoke upwards. "Besides, Stan never liked him anyways. He was always looking for an excuse to drop the guy. He jus needed some motivation."
Clyde crossed his arms. "It's Kyle, isn't it?"
"Maybe, maybe not." Kenny shrugged. "I'm not their fucking manager. Whatever those two do together is their business, I'm not involved in their maybe potential love lives."
"If you're not involved, why were you so against Craig?" Clyde glared.
Kenny glared back, standing up and flicking his cigarette into the snow. "Listen, Donavon. I like you so I'm going to try and be nice, all right? Craig's your bestie, okay? Kyle's been mine since diaper days and he and Stan have had my back every step of the way. I owe them any amount of happiness I can give, so the least I can do is keep Craig as far the fuck away from what I know they have-"
"But what I Craig loves Stan?" Clyde blurted out, his eyes widening as the words splat against Kenny as he mirrored his own expression.
Kenny tilted his head. "What."
Clyde stood there, slowly turning away and shoving his fists in his pockets. "I…Token and I figured that he developed something for Stan. He told me to leave it alone and not to push it, but since the only ones who know about Stan and him are you, me and Toke…"
A silence fell between the two, snowflakes falling around them. Kenny stared at the back of Clyde's head, his hands shivered in the cold before clenching into fists.
He took a step forward and reached out, resting a hand on Clyde's shoulder. Clyde turned back to him and saw his eyes cast downwards.
"If you're right," he began, "and he does, than we should just let things sort themselves out."
Clyde turned back, pushing Kenny's gloved hand away with narrowed eyes. "What, like you have?"
"I didn't tell Stan to drop him." Kenny said firmly.
"I'm sure you did," Clyde spat, "I honestly think there's something deeper to this than you let on."
Kenny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, totally. I ship Stan and Kyle so goddamn hard, I have their names tattooed on my ass."
Clyde's eyes widened, Kenny staring at him unsettled. "You gave Stan the tattoo!"
Kenny threw his arms up enraged. "Why can't anyone in this town keep their mouth shut?"
"You really hate Craig that bad, man?" Clyde stomped. "Did he kick your fucking dog or something?"
"Fuck this," Kenny turned away before snapping back to point accusingly at Clyde. "Stay the fuck away from me, and keep your mouth shut around Stan. About all of this."
"But don't you think Stan has the right to know?" Clyde pled. "If Craig were to tell him before anything even happens between him and Kyle-"
"Then I won't let it get to that," Kenny stated, turning to face where the Tucker had stormed off. "In fact, I'm going to see if I can catch up with the prick now."
Clyde opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue as Kenny stomped away from him towards the gym. He stood there alone, awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
I think Sundays are going to be the days I update this fic. May change depending on my work schedule, and other projects. Thanks for reading and please review!
-ABGE
