A/N: It's taken me a bit to figure out just how to pace this story. I still have no goddamn idea pft. I guess we're winging it until the parts I really wanna get to that'll come later urgh.

So this is kinda filler but it'll be fun. For me at least.

Enjoy~

"You know, if you keep staring at ze clock, eet may z'hink you are coming onto eet," Christophe's voice sang in Stan's ears.

The noirette looked up from his spot leaning on the bar and shrugged, "Well maybe if it thinks I'll take it out for a nice time it'll fucking work faster."

Christophe snorted a bit and shook his head, rearranging bottles on the back shelf. Stan hated working overlapping shifts with the brunette. He liked the guy just fine, but they had very different methods of setting up their cocktail mixers and Stan always got confused when it was Tophe's turn to organize them, it always just threw off his rhythm. He learned to pay much closer attention when he almost got punched in the face for serving a White Russian made of whiskey and apple schnapps. At least Christophe knew his way around a brawl and always stopped a punch before it landed, he always had that going for him.

Stan looked around the bar listlessly, eyeing the handful of barflies and sighing. Why they both needed to work the Wednesday shift for three hours together he'd never know. "God what a slow-ass night. Why do I still have forty minutes leeefffttt?" he whined.

Tophe rolled his eyes and slapped his arm a bit, "Stop your beetching. A job iz a job no matter how sheety eet may be."

He nodded softly, "I guess. But goddamn does this job suck."

"I am not denying zhat," he chuckled. They both looked up as the door opened, Stan smiling as Kenny and Kyle walked in and grinned at him. Craig towed behind them a bit, Stan blinking confusedly before remembering that Craig was Kenny's ride home when he was working. "Well," Tophe raised his brow as the three of them sat down, staring at Kenny and Kyle. "I don't z'hink I 'ave seen you two een 'ere since Kyle finally became a man," he chuckled as Kyle made a mocking face at him.

Ken shrugged, looping his arm around Kyle, "Well we actually have some money and I think we goddamn deserve a drink for ourselves."

Stan smirked at the redhead, "Ky, you hate bars."

He shrugged sheepishly, "Yeah but I rarely say no to a drink nonetheless."

Craig waved a bit, "Hey, I'm here, too, ya know."

"And I couldn't be happier," Stan looked at him dryly. "Whaddya want, Tucker?"

"Same shitty beer ya gave me last time if you please," he stuck his tongue out.

Ken snorted, "I'll have what he's having," he jerked his thumb over towards Craig. "Lovin' shitty beer runs in my family."

Stan looked at the redhead and smirked, "What about you, Ky? Since beer makes you wanna vomit and I don't want to clean that shit?"

"Whatever the hell's the easiest for you to make," he shrugged. "You know what kind of shit I like."

"Gotcha, girliest drink we got," he winked, ignoring Kyle flipping him off and turning to start to fumble around with Christophe's mess of a cocktail assortment. He grabbed two mugs and went to put them under the tap, looking back at the group. "So, what brings you all to my personal hell?" he asked.

Kenny shrugged, "Craig and I got off work, wanted to drink, went and got Ky to come with us. Not a very exciting story," he chuckled.

"Better than half the bullshit stories I have to put up with in this damn place night after night," he scoffed, finishing filling Craig and Ken's mugs and handing them over across the bar. He turned back, fishing a glass from a cabinet and looking back at the redhead. "You want rum or vodka tonight?"

Kyle looked up thoughtfully, "Hm, vodka," he nodded. "Vodka sounds pretty bitchin' after the day I've had," he rolled his eyes.

"What happened?" he cocked his head, grabbing the alcohol and some orange juice from the mini fridge.

"Cartman came over to..." he paused, glancing at Craig and Christophe and cleared his throat. "Be a dick. He came over and just wouldn't fucking leave the apartment."

Craig snorted, "He plannin' on attacking you again?"

"I wish that was it," Kyle muttered under his breath before sighing. "Nah, he's just trying some new business venture and won't leave me alone about it, that's all."

"Jesus, what the hell else can he even do? He already makes more money than all of us combined," he rolled his eyes.

Kyle leaned his head into his palm and looked at him with exhausted eyes. "I dunno. Something I'm not interested in. It is Cartman after all..." he looked at Kenny who gave him a sad smile. He leaned down and kissed his cheek and Kyle blushed a bit.

"Ah so you two are still together, no?" Christophe leaned in front of Kyle close to his face.

Kyle backed up from him and cleared his throat, nodding. "Yeah. How've you been, Tophe?"

He shrugged, "Eh. Working zhis sheety ass job. Going 'ome and being alone. Ze same as usual."

"What happened with Greg?" Kenny raised his brow. Stan shook his head at the blonde frantically as he handed Kyle his Screwdriver. He knew that topic had a tendency to send Christophe out of control.

Christophe scowled and scoffed angrily. "Ze pussy ran off back to England to be with more 'intellectuals'," he rolled his eyes. "Fine by me, 'e was a piece of sheet." He looked back at the redhead in front of him and smirked, watching him drink with a raised brow. "And 'ow are you, Kyle?"

"I'm...fine?" he blinked confusedly. He stirred his drink a bit and watched the Frenchman cautiously. Kenny narrowed his eyes at the brunette and grabbed Kyle's free hand, holding it tightly and making damn well sure it was in Tophe's view. Stan couldn't help but watch the scene amusedly. Christophe was never very subtle when it came to Kyle. The redhead himself had no idea of his intentions but Tophe had gone into some very seriously graphic detail to Stan of what he'd do if he had his hands on him after the last time Kyle had been in the bar. Kenny seemed more than aware of where the boy's mind was spinning as he tightened his grip to the point where Kyle yelped a bit and shook his hand off. "Jesus, Ken, I need that fucking hand!" he pouted.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly before going back to glare at the brunette and taking a long sip of his beer.

"Ah, eet would be tragic eef you were to lose use of this 'and. So soft and lovely, eet would be a shame for eet to not be used," Christophe said smoothly, grasping it and holding it in front of him, stroking over Kyle's slender fingers with the barest wisp of touch. Kyle's eyes widened and his mouth fumbled a bit in his loss. Stan and Craig could barely contain their laughter between the two of them and Kenny sitting there positively fuming. "Tell me," Tophe continued, "Kyle, do you speak français?

He cocked his brow, trying to take his hand back and failing. "Uh, no. I-I took Italian in high school."

"A shame," he sighed. "My language iz ze most beautiful of zhem all, no?"

"I guess it's...nice?" he shrugged.

"Back off, Christophe," Kenny growled, his hand clenching around his beer handle angrily.

Tophe waved him away dismissively, not breaking from Kyle's jade gaze. "Tell me, Kyle, 'ow do ze Italians say zhey want to bone you?"

Kyle nearly choked on his drink and Kenny made a move to leap over the bar before Craig grabbed him and sat him back down, enjoying the show way too much to let the blonde's possessiveness get in the way. "Dude, just chill, he's not hurting him," he muttered to him in-between giggles, patting his shoulder. Kenny gritted his teeth and Stan shot him an amused apologetic shrug, turning back to watch the other two lost in awkward conversation.

"Well?" Tophe urged. "From zat blush, I can tell zat you know."

Kyle flushed harder. He did know it, he'd used it to seduce Kenny one night since the blonde loved hearing him speak something different. He couldn't manage to dirty talk in English without feeling awkward, so he'd learned how to improvise. And damn did it work, even if he didat one point run out of things to say and told Kenny he wanted to hit his cat with a lawnmower. Either way, it worked well enough for him. He cleared his throat, "Uh, I-I think it was 'Io voglio fare sesso con te'."

"Hm," Christophe smirked, leaning closer to his face. "Zhat iz nice I suppose. But wouldn't you rather hear someone murmur in your ear," he leaned in even further and his dark brown eyes went half-lidded, his voice dropping into a deep growl, "Je veux vas te faire encule?"

"Uh..." Kyle went redder, still trying to pry his hand out of the boy's calloused grasp.

"Jolie petite rousse je faire des choses pour vous que vous ne pouviez rêver," he tongued over his lips and raised his brows slightly.

"All right that's fucking enough!" Kenny sneered, prying Tophe's hand away from Kyle and pulling the boy towards himself. "Go hit on someone else's boyfriend, you French dick!"

Christophe chuckled and kept his eyes on Kyle. "Z'here is noz'hing better zhan a French deeck, trust me, jolie petite rousse," he winked.

"The fuck does that even mean?" Stan chuckled, shaking his head.

Craig snorted, "It means pretty little redhead," he rolled his eyes. The other four looked at him in surprise and he shrugged, "Fuck you, French was the one class I was good at." He turned back to his beer and Kyle looked at Tophe questionably.

"Can ya not call me that?" he asked dryly.

"Hm, I suppose," he shrugged innocently. "I shall call you...garçon qui va sucer ma bite," he smirked amusedly. Craig spit out some beer and fell into hysterics, putting his beer down on the bar and shaking his head.

Stan frowned, grabbing his rag and cleaning up the mess spewed all over his shining countertop. "And what does that mean?"

"You don't wanna know," he continued laughing. "Broflovski, go with what he was calling you first, it's definitely more your style."

Kyle raised his brow suspiciously and looked back at the grinning brunette. "I'd much rather you call me Kyle for one thing. For another, I'm kinda with this idiot in case you haven't noticed?" he jerked his thumb to the blonde still wrapped around him.

"We French tend to eegnore such z'hings," he chuckled. "We know what we want and we get eet."

"Well this guy's already been got," Kenny frowned, shaking Kyle a bit for emphasis. "So back the fuck off."

"Ma jolie petite rousse, you will find zhat no one can resist ze call of a real man for long," he winked before smirking at Kenny's seething glare. He turned and walked back into the kitchen, Kyle watching after him blankly. Craig and Stan burst into laughter, putting their heads down onto the bar and shaking their heads.

"Shut the fuck up!" Kenny hissed, slapping both of them upside the head. "I don't appreciate that French piece of shit hitting on him!"

"Ken, calm down," Kyle patted his hand. "Dude, he didn't throw me over the bar and have his fucking way with me. It's okay."

The blonde pouted. "No, it's not okay. Mr. Smooth tryin' t' French ya away from me," he growled, seeming to try to stare through the wall into the kitchen and somehow melt Christophe off the face of the Earth.

"The French are pussies," Kyle scoffed. "'Sides," he leaned up and kissed Kenny briskly, "You know I don't like that frou-frou beating around the bush crap. I much prefer your bluntness," he smiled at him slyly.

Craig rolled his eyes, "Oh please. McCormick did nothing but smooth talk fuckers in high school."

"Only the people I didn't want," Ken chuckled, ruffling Kyle's wild hair a bit. "Threw 'em off track and then went home and fucked Kyle until he couldn't walk anymore."

"Thanks, Ken," the redhead said dryly, taking a small sip of his drink. "Sometimes your bluntness is a little too on-the-mark."

Stan laughed, leaning down between Kyle and Kenny and looking at the two of them amusedly. He couldn't help but feel some relief. The two of them were seeming a lot less tense than when he'd last seen them together on Friday. Still not fantastic, but it was obvious that they were doing better than they had been. "I never did ask how you two idiots got together," he raised his brow.

"Why don't you field that one, Ken?" Kyle shook his head with a chuckle.

Kenny leaned on the bar and smiled cockily. "So, Ky and I had economics together Sophomore year, right? Well we're walkin' to class and I told him I forgot somethin' at my locker and needed his help. We walk back towards it and I shove his ass into a janitor's closet, get in with him, and tell him I won't let him out until he agrees to go out with me."

"We were in that closet for literally three hours," Kyle groaned.

Stan sputtered with laughter, "Really? It took you three hours to just agree to a pity date?"

Kyle rolled his eyes bemusedly, "It was a little more complicated than that."

Kenny snorted and shook his head. "You know Kyle. He had to go over everything that could possibly go wrong. I remember in particular him shouting to me 'if we ended up breaking up, I get Stan and you're stuck with Blubberass because I'll be damned if you're gonna take everything from me you son of a bitch!'" He cackled as Kyle hid a lightly blushing face.

Stan patted the poor boy's head and grinned crookedly, "Good to know I was so vital to you even when you were shoved in a closet against your will."

Kyle looked at him and rolled his eyes, "Don't think yourself so important, Marsh. I was just looking for a way to get Kenny to change his mind."

"But Imma stubborn sonnova bitch," the blonde proclaimed proudly. "Besides, this little fag totally had the hots for me and he knows it," he poked Kyle's cheek.

Kyle batted his prodding finger away and scoffed, "Yeah, yeah. You keep telling yourself that. You're lucky I was just too nice to let you walk away looking like I ripped off your balls."

Ken shook his head, "Please. After I kissed the fuck out of you that first time you could barely even walk you were floatin' so fuckin' high."

"You really think that you hold that kind of power over me?" he teased.

"I do," he murmured, leaning over and kissing under his ear. Kyle smiled, trying to block off his attempts and failing miserably.

Craig and Stan both watched them, each of them spiraling towards both amusement and pure reeling jealousy. Craig looked over at him and shrugged, "How the fuck did these two gaywads end up finding someone and we're stuck in single man's limbo?"

Stan crossed his arms and shrugged, observing as Kyle playfully batted Kenny's touches away as Ken bit on his neck gently. "Because we're unlucky I guess. And not nearly gay enough apparently since these two look like they could run a fucking pride parade on their own."

"Fuck off," Kyle muttered as Kenny nipped at his ear. "Ken, Ken," he said softly, pulling back and smiling guiltily. Stan cocked his head at the expression. Kenny just shrugged sheepishly and kissed him again in silence. The noirette watched the two of them confusedly, as though they were having some kind of telepathic conversation, their expressions changing in time with one another's. It was disgustingly cutesy, but damn it all if Stan didn't feel that envy trying to rear its head once again.

"Ah, speaking of gay pride and all that," Craig grabbed Stan's attention back. "I have more news about our little hooker friend."

Kyle flinched and he and Kenny pulled away from each other, looking at him in shock. Stan nearly froze, a deer caught in the headlights as he gulped timidly. "Oh? O-oh really? Do you know who it is?"

He shook his head, "Not a goddamn clue. The guy he had apparently is keeping his mouth shut like Fort fuckin' Knox." He looked over to see the couple staring at him with wide eyes and he snorted. "Hey, you guys have your monogamy thing goin', let us single guys find us a whore now and then, huh?"

Stan flickered his eyes over, seeing Kyle desperately grasping around Kenny's shaking fists and stroking them with his thumbs. "Well I told you I wasn't really interested in that whole thing, Craig."

"Don't care, need someone to talk to about it," he scoffed. "It's either you or I call Token and Clyde and they're off doin' their thing in Denver so fuck that," he waved dismissively. "You're the only other single gay guy I know."

"Uh, Tophe?" he cocked his brow.

"Well...he's French. He doesn't count," he shrugged.

"I 'eard zhat," Christophe came back out of the kitchen and raised his brow at the boy. "You z'hink all ze French are like myself, hm? Well let me tell you, Tucker, you would be a French man's pansy boy een minutes."

"Yeah no I don't do the bottoming thing," Craig scoffed. Kyle and Kenny slowly looked over at Stan in amused shock and the boy pinched the bridge of his nose tightly in his fingers. Fantastic. Just what he needed announced to the world.

Tophe scoffed and shook his head, "Eiz'her way, I 'ave also 'eard of zis la putain."

"Prostitute," Craig translated.

"Yeah, we can pick up context clues, Craig," Kyle frowned, his eyes brimming darkly. "And just what have you heard about him?"

Craig scoffed, "Why do you care? You and Kenny wanting a third person in bed or something?"

Kenny scowled at him, "No, maybe we're allowed to be curious about fucking gossip, too, you piece of shit."

Craig raised his hands defensively, "All right, Jesus Christ, calm down, McCormick." He took a long swig of his beer and shrugged, "Apparently he's awesome. That's what I heard. He's a good talk and a good lay. Sounds like my kinda night."

Kyle subtly shuddered and Stan froze, seeing that Christophe noticed his reaction. The brunette walked back over in front of the boy and looked at him with steely, calculating eyes. "What?" Kyle blinked.

Tophe's hardened gaze broke and he smirked, "'ave you 'eard zat 'e iz a rousse such as yourself?"

"No, I hadn't," he muttered, clenching onto Kenny's hand for dear life.

He chuckled, "Z'here is noz'hing to be worried about, joli petite Kyle, you are still ze most lovely of ze redheads."

"Gee. Thanks," he rolled his eyes.

Kenny growled, "Tophe I am goddamn serious, stop fucking hitting on him in front of me."

"Zhen turn around," he scoffed.

Stan shook his head and pushed Christophe lightly, "One of your tables is looking for you," he motioned towards a group waving their hands down the way. "Go take care of them before I'm cleaning one of you two off the floor."

"As eef eet would be me," the brunette grinned cheekily at the boiling blonde before turning and making his way towards his table.

Craig gave a nasally laugh, "Man, Broflovski, I wouldn't go anywhere alone with that guy if I were you that's for damn sure."

"Never planned on it," he raised his brow, patting Kenny's hand reassuringly. He smiled at Kenny softly, "Hey, think of it this way, Ken: you have something that he can never get. That's gotta mean something for you considering how much you like to brag," he chuckled.

Ken returned the expression and kissed his forehead. "Yeah, but still. Gonna kick his ass."

"Yeah, you kick that ex-mercenary's ass and I'll bend over for you," Craig scoffed. He turned back to Stan, "Anyway. So. This hooker guy." Stan cringed, hoping that that portion of the conversation was well over and done with. He noticed Kyle drinking down his cocktail like a man on a mission and went to make him another one. "You listenin' to me, Marsh?"

"Yeah, I am," he said tiredly, wishing more than anything for a meteor to come and smash him into the ground in that moment.

"Well, rumor has it the guy was like, super tight and everything. I'm thinkin' I'm definitely throwing my name in there. Maybe you and I could like, work out a deal and both get him for the night or some shit," he shrugged.

"Oh my god," Kyle whispered to himself, his face going completely red. He looked at Stan desperately and bit his lip. "Dude, just give me fucking shots," he shook his head. "Don't bother watering it down."

Stan nodded, grabbing a couple of shot glasses and filling them with strawberry vodka that he knew Kyle loved. The group watched Kyle shoot down the two in a hurry, clearing his throat and looking over at Craig with heavy eyes. Kenny rubbed the boy's neck, leaning in and murmuring something inaudible to the others in his ear. Kyle nodded against him and sighed.

"What's wrong with you?" Craig cocked his brow.

"I've had a long day, okay?" he grumbled. He yelped as hands fell onto his shoulders, looking up and finding Christophe hovering above him.

"'e iz saddened because 'e z'hinks 'e iz not ze only cute redhead in town. Ah, Kyle, you are still ze most beautiful in my book," he teased.

"Oh my fucking god," Kyle groaned, getting off his chair and batting Tophe's hands away. "Kenny, I want to go home. Now," he emphasized, his eyes shining lightly. Kenny nodded, quickly downing the remainder of his beer and standing beside him as Kyle fumbled through his wallet. "How much Stan?" he asked hurriedly.

"On the house," he said softly.

Kyle glared at him a bit, grabbing forty dollars and throwing it at him. "Here. Keep the change," he said before snaring Kenny's hand and quickly leading him through the bar and out the door.

The three of them watched them walk out the door and Craig looked back at the other two confusedly. "The fuck was that about? Brof on his period or some shit?"

"He's been having a really hard time, Dickcheese," Stan frowned at him, wanting nothing more than to punch the nasally bastard into the floor.

"What did I do?" he asked incredulously. "I was talkin' to you about gettin' laid! I didn't know that he was still such a prim and proper dickhead! I figured he and McCormick had done everything by this point!"

Stan just shook his head and sighed irritably, "Kyle's just...having a hard time. Okay?" he turned and walked into the kitchen, heading towards the fridge and grabbing his bottle of soda from its confines. He took a few long, angry gulps before a voice nearly startled him into dropping the container.

"So, 'ow long 'as Kyle been a whore, hm?"

Stan looked over at the brunette in absolute horror. "H-he's not a..."

Christophe scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Please. I saw 'im react to zat asshole's words. Only a fool would not be able to figure eet out."

Stan bit his lip and clenched the plastic in his fingers tightly. "Tophe, you...you can't-"

He held up his hand to stop him, "I will never say a z'hing," he promised. "I know zat Kyle would not be doing zhis kind of z'hing unless 'e was at ze end of 'is rope."

He sighed a little in relief, his face still reddened. "Thanks," he whispered. "He's working under Cartman and...and he's really having a hard time."

"I would imagine," he cocked his brow. "Eet cannot be easy spreading your legs for strangers as such." Stan shuddered and threw his soda back in the fridge. Christophe's voice startled him once again. "'owever, I...would like to make a small request, een exchange for my silence," the Frenchman stated.

Stan gulped, his fingers curling around the handle to the fridge door. This wouldn't be good. No matter what the man was about to say, he knew that he was going to end up hating every fucking word of it. "What?" he whispered.

He looked over, seeing Tophe standing there with a mischievous smirk across his face. "Tell me just where eet iz I can put my own bid een."

A/N: I've always had the headcanon that Tophe is all business until it comes to him pursuing someone, then he's just a helpless flirt who won't back off.

Quick translations:

Jolie petite rousse je faire des choses pour vous que vous ne pouviez rêver = Pretty little redhead I would do things to you that you could only dream about

garçon qui va sucer ma bite = boy who will suck my cock

Because Tophe would be a blunt motherfucker. That is my logic and once again, it is flawless.

Thanks for R&Ring!