At eight o'clock that night, whilst lying in bed digesting his toaster waffle dinner, Kenny concocted a new plan. He realised Kyle must not know. If Kyle knew, he'd have said something. He really, really would have said something, anything, everything. It was a guaranteed certainty he'd have mentioned it. For some reason, Stan wasn't telling Kyle, he was keeping this from him. This worked massively in Kenny's favour.

This dirty little secret had knocked something wrong with Stan and Kyle, knocked something, disjointed their relationship. Everything was skewed and off centre. This was his chance, he realised. Although they might not have officially broken up, although Kyle claimed they were fine, Stan and Kyle's relationship was weak. Stan was keeping something from Kyle, and Kyle knew it. Kyle didn't like being kept out of things. This was Kenny's chance to worm his way in, sew the seeds of discontent, weaken the wood, split the bow in two. If he could get to Kyle, talk with Kyle, casually suggest that maybe, maybe being with someone you've known your whole life, who you've been pretty much in love with since you were nine, wasn't such a good idea to Kyle, maybe he could be the straw that'd break their camels back. Then, when Kyle was sad and single, Kenny could be there. Kenny could always be there. Because Kyle didn't know. Kyle didn't know why Kenny would be there.

Stan and Kyle been fucking-come-dating, for, what, two years? Perhaps their relationship had just run its natural course. Two years is a heck of a long time, especially when you're only just eighteen.

Kenny knew Kyle was alone. For the first time in years, literally years, Kyle had taken the bus back home. After gym he'd told Stan he needed some space (Kenny had been discreetly spying on them/checking Kyle out in the locker room) and declared he was going to catch the bus back. Stan had told him he was being stupid, but Kyle had just smiled wanly and told Stan he'd be fine. They'd walked to the front of the school together, shared one of the most awkward goodbye slight cheek kisses Kenny would ever live to see, and Kyle had walked off.

For the first time ever, Kenny cursed his father for letting him drive the truck to school. It was a rare privilege for Kenny, not having to catch the bus, it was just unfortunate this privilege now denied him the even shiner privilege of getting to ride with Kyle. Kenny had tried to wheedle up to Kyle to offer him a lift, but Stan had been lurking round him like some sort of creepy jock-like crow, so Kenny had missed his chance. For a second he thought about catching the bus anyway, just abandoning the truck and driving it back tomorrow. The beatdown his dad, and Stan, would undoubtedly give him if he did this dissuaded him from the idea. It had been one heck of a close call though.

So Kyle had caught the bus alone, and Stan had driven his crappy scrapheap home alone. So they were both alone. For the first time in forever.

Kenny stood up, pulling on his shoes. He was going to see Kyle, his sad little Kyle, to offer him some "comfort" and "friendly advice". He was going to stick his ore in, going to suggest that perhaps, perhaps he should cut it off with Stan. That Stan shouldn't go to Boston. That Kenny should be allowed to catch a break. That Kenny should get the guy. A grin crept across Kenny's face. This was all too good to be true. Life was finally, finally levelling the playing field.

Just as Kenny was zipping up his coat, someone knocked on the front door. Freezing with his fingers pressed against his chest, he listened. His dad had the T.V on, blaring out NASCAR, his sister was bouncing a ball against her bedroom wall. His mother was receiving a very polite greeting from Wendy Testaburger.

As he slipped himself out his bedroom window, Kenny thanked God he lived in the shack of a bungalow his dad once built, he thanked God it got dark at six round these parts, he thanked God he was small and sneaky, he thanked God for all manner of things he'd never thanked God before for, for all manner of unfortunate things that had helped him make his escape.

Kenny couldn't help but feel a little angry. Wendy was probably coming to see him to tell him off, yell at him for upsetting her precious pussy of an ex or whatever. He was irritated she immediately assumed it was him, rather then assuming it was Cartman. Cartman was the obvious culprit when shit like this happened, but she ignored that for some reason. Unless she'd come to him to ask what happened, Kenny reasoned, feeling a little guilty he'd jumped to conclusions. She could have just wanted to talk about it or whatever. Either way, Wendy'd have to wait. Right now the iron was hot, and Kenny was striking.

The walk to Kyle's wasn't really that far. All Kenny had to do was cross to the right side of the tracks and walk straight up the world's longest residential street. Still, the darkness proved unwelcoming and frigid, the slightly too deep for April snow was weighing his shoes down, and the dampness creeping up his jeans wetted his ice-cold calves. All these factors and more clumped together, making the walk very unpleasant.

It was the thought of getting some alone time with Kyle that kept him powering on at breakneck speed, nearly running on the ice, grinning like a manic on acid. He'd get to comfort Kyle, hug him, cuddle him, maybe even kiss him. In fifteen minutes flat he was outside the Broflovski residence.

He contemplated knocking on the door, but after his little potted fir tree fiasco (which Mrs. Broflovski had put back on the front stoop, re-potted in a shiny, new blue pot), he realised facing Mrs. Broflovski wasn't such a great idea. Instead Kenny snuck round the side of the house, located Kyle's window, before bending down and crushing a fistful of snow into a pretty little ice-pebble. Standing back, he lined up his shot, and was just about to take it when he felt a strong force jerk him backwards, pulling him off balance.

Kenny fought like a bobcat, but considering how much bigger and stronger Stan was compared to him, Kenny's efforts proved to be futile. In a matter of moments Stan and pushed Kenny back against Kyle's neighbour's garage wall, and was looming over him, glaring at him with a look that shanked of sheer hatred.

"I told you never to come near him again, Kenny."

"Why the fuck are you staking him out like some creepy-ass stalker, you pathetic freak?"

"I want to talk to him. I'm waiting to talk to my boyfriend."

"So more talky, less stalky."

Stan bit the inside of his cheek, glaring at Kenny. "He's a little upset right now, he's upset I won't tell about him your pathetic little crush. He says I'm keeping secrets from him. I guess I am." For a second Stan flashed sad, but he fought to scrawl the anger back across his face.

"So just tell him then, you pussy."

"I'm not that cruel Kenny. This is for the best."

Kenny glowered. "Who the fuck are you to decide what's for the best? You're not king of the fucking world, Stan, no matter how the dicks in this town act."

Stan just narrowed his eyes a degree further, intensifying to look of sheer hatred. "Just leave him alone Kenny. Do yourself a favour and leave all this alone. I've got both your interests at heart."

Kenny made a loud, disapproving grunt. "How does commanding the love of my life not to talk to me again benefit me in any way? How does keeping all this shit secret from Kyle benefit him in any way? The only one you're looking out for is yourself, Stan. You're being a selfish little douche."

Stan narrowed his eyes even further, before sighing and shutting them completely. Lifting a hand to his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm trying to protect you both, you dumb shit. Staying away from him, or getting him to stay away from you is the best thing you can do right now."

"Oh really" Kenny ladled the snark on heavy "how is depriving me of the love of my life-"

"Stop fucking calling him that!" Stan snapped.

"Why should I?"

"Because he isn't the love of your life, he's the love of my life! That's why you need to stay the fuck away from him!"

Kenny laughed bitterly. "Frightened I'm going to steal him away from you, pussy boy?"

Stan just grabbed him by the neck of his t-shirt, lifted him a good foot off the floor, before slamming him against the bricks. For the first time in his life, Kenny was actually frightened of him. He'd always known Stan was stronger then him, bigger, broader, taller, but he'd also always known Stan was tempered and controlled, level headed and kind.

Not today, however. His usually clear blue eyes were twisted with the same wildness that marred Shelly, and Kenny became very aware Stan could actually kill him if he wanted to.

Then Stan smiled. An awful, awful, dangerous smile.

"You do realise that in five months he'll leave this town? He'll leave this town, and we'll move across America. We'll be time zones away from you, states away from you, a fucking country away. He'll leave, you'll wave him goodbye, and he'll leave. And you'll never, ever see him again. That's it. Gone. Gone forever. Game over."

"You've not got into Boston yet Stanny boy, I've got a few days yet to win him over. Let's see who'll be going to Boston when I'm the one he's straddling."

Stan pushed his fist harder against Kenny's throat, still smiling that awful smile. "Even if you did, not that you could, it will never, ever fucking happen, I'd still follow him to Boston. I'd still stick by him. I'll always stick by him. Forever."

"I guess it's a good thing five months is an awful long time then." Kenny fought choke that out, his hands scrabbling desperately against his throat, frantic to free himself.

Stan just gave him a look, a look that managed to convey both pity and hatred, sorrow and anger. It was a look that made Kenny feel like a kid again, dirt poor, pathetic, and only three feet tall.

"There's nothing you can do in five months that I can't undo in three years Kenny. Just stay away from him, for your own sake."

Despite having Stan's fist pushed against his trachea, despite being suspended a foot off the floor, despite knowing he was being stupid, Kenny decided to push his luck.

"One day it's me he'll be fucking. I can promise you that, Stan."

For a moment Stan just looked at him, but not with anger or hatred. It was with an emotion Kenny couldn't depict. An emotion blurred by its obscurity and the dimness of that porch light.

"Just stay the fuck away from him Ken." His voice was deadpan, his eyes blank, "Just stay the fuck away."

With that, he let go of Kenny's shirt, turning tail and striding away.

As he fell to the floor, ice digging into his palms, Kenny realised just how fixated Stan actually was when it came to Kyle. He realised that Stan would do anything, anything, to keep happy and safe, healthy, and, most importantly, right by his side. No matter what.

He realised the full extent of what he was up against. And he'd never been more daunted in his life.

A/N - On one had, you have Kenny, who pervs at you when you're changing. On the other, you have Stan, who stakes out your house. Who will Kyle pick? The creeper or the stalker? It's anyones game! ()

Ah well, more ploxstuff, more Kenny getting coxbloxed, more thank yous for reading this =) More more more thank yous for my lovely, lovely reviews. They make me feel so lovely. Everytime I get an alert it makes me feel like rainbow glitter and, er, wowstuff. Thank you Sweethearts!

Also, happy International Women's Day! Yay for having internal reproductive organs! Yay for equality! Boo for inequality! Yay for love for all!

Yay!