"You could have just said you were sorry."

Stan was too busy raking through his jeans pockets to look up. "What?"

Kyle exhaled a breath of condensation, crossing his arms across his chest, stamping his feet slightly. It was freezing, frickin freezing, and pitch black. Dense storm clouds covered the stars, filling the sky. Kyle couldn't even see the moon through it all. It was an awful night really. The only light they had was the runoff from the diner behind him, the eerie glow from the flickering, neon sign, the cold brightness from the windows. There was a street lamp stuck halfway down the street, but the dim bulb didn't offer much in the way of illumination. All it did was draw out the shadows, colouring everything an unappealing, dull orange. The mixture of dusky orange and cold bright white didn't cast them in a particularly flattering light. Nothing about this night was particularly flattering. Not the tacky little diner, not Stan's crowning moment of pussy. Not these run down, beat up outskirts. It all felt very unsettling. Very unsettled. It was going to blizzard tonight.

Kyle cleared this throat, staring down at the grit between his feet. "If you wanted to… I dunno, talk to me again or whatever. All you had to do was say sorry."

"It wasn't that easy."

"Sure it was. 'I'm sorry I told you I hated you and said that you should go die. I didn't mean to say it, I'm just a massive diva cocksucker who likes to throw her toys out of the pram.' There you go, it's all you had to say."

Stan smiled slightly. "It's wasn't that easy."

"Sure it-"

Stan exhaled a muted curse, glancing over the hood of the car. Glancing up at Kyle. "Look Ky, just trust me on this. Not everything can go back to being just as it was a week after disaster. Some things just need to stay, I dunno, dead for a bit. Sometimes things need to change." Kyle bit his lip, crossing his arms across his chest. Stan just smiled. Sadly. "Besides, you're fucking terrifying when you're angry. And you're always angry. Walking up to you when you have your whole bitchface thing on feels a bit like smothering yourself in honey and prancing up to an angry bear."

"My bitchface thing?! I don't have a bitchface thing!"

"You really do. And it's terrifying."

"I really don't!"

"Look" Stan finally found his keys, pulling them out of the flannel pocket on his chest, "just stop doing you little wardance or whatever and get in the car."

"It's not a wardance, I'm fucking freezing!"

"Well get in the car then. The sooner you get in, the sooner you can play with the heaters."

Kyle relented, wrenching open the passenger side door and gracelessly sitting down. He frowned as Stan sat down next to him. "Why are you not wearing a coat? It's like, thirty degrees or something!"

"It's not." Stan started the ignition, tapping the dashboard, waiting for the display to light up. "See, it's forty-five. It's fine."

"You should still be wearing a coat."

Stan shrugged. "I'm warm enough as is."

"But-"

"Hush it. Stop worrying. It's fine, I'm fine. I don't need a coat. Now here," he thrust a brown paper bag onto Kyle's lap. "Take your doggy bag and stop the whining."

"I don't whine!"

"My God Kyle! You do little but!"

Kyle glowered at him, clutching the paper bag against his chest. "I think I preferred the whole not talking thing we had going on."

"Don't lie. You're enjoying this just as much as I am."

"You're enjoying this? Jesus Christ Stan. Jesus Christ."

Stan just grinned at him, shifting the car into reverse and lifting his foot off the break.

The drive home was far less awkward then the drive out. Mostly because the radio DJ managed the refrain from playing Carly Rae Jepsen, which meant Kyle managed to refrain from turning the radio off in rage induced irritation. Stan was too busy frowning out the window, concentrating on the road to attempt to initiate conversation. He made the passing comment, but no more than that. Kyle had been right. They were driving into the beginnings of a blizzard.

Even with the bad weather, they still made it back to South Park in good time. Stan pulled up against the curb, put the car in park, and opened his door. Kyle frowned after him. He didn't really need Stan to escort him to his front porch. As fucked up as South Park was, there were very few things that could go wrong in the few seconds it took him to stomp across his front lawn.

"This was nice."

Kyle quirked an eyebrow disbelievingly, turning round on his doormat to face him. The motion caused the porch light to click on, which nearly blinded Stan, but there was little he could do about that. Kyle just blinked, shaking his head as Stan rubbed his eyes. He wasn't quite sure what meal Stan had been at. The one he had been at could be called a lot of things. Nice was not one of those things.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was. It was nice. Getting to talk to you again. Getting to hang out. It was nice. We should do it again. I mean, I forgot how much fun you can be when you're not glaring at me. I forgot how… how… I missed it."

Kyle put his hands on his hips, quirking his eyebrows as he clutched his doggy bag against his coat. "Really?!"

"Yes, really. Really really. I had fun."

"You're very easily amused there days."

"Maybe."

Kyle opened his mouth to say something else, but Stan cut him off, reaching out and pulling Kyle in an awkward, unreciprocated bear hug. Blinking, Kyle just gripped his doggy bag tighter, keeping his arms braced against his sides. It was a massively awkward pose, and Kyle didn't even contemplate reciprocating, but none of that mattered. Reciprocation wasn't necessary for this hug. Stan was doing enough hugging for the both of them really.

"Kyle?" He could feel Stan's words, the vibration of Stan's diaphragm as he spoke. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on. He assumed all this hugging was just some jock tradition. Like the whole high-five, fist bump, slap on the ass thing. He never hugged Kenny like this. He'd probably catch tetanus or something if he did.

Kyle addressed the night sky over Stan's left shoulder, his face part smothered by Stan's shirt. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry I told you I hated you and said that you should go die. I didn't mean to say it, I'm just a massive diva cocksucker who likes to throw her toys out of the pram. That was it, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, that was it."

"So we can be friends again, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Just, you know, let go of me now."

"Right, alright." Stan pulled back, smiling slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow Kyle."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

Stan smiled, gripped the top of Kyle's arm lightly, before letting go and walking back to his car. Kyle blinked, shaking his head. He had no idea what had just happened. He had no idea what the fuck was going on.