Rescue Me-Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Is here.

Summary: Kyle has just kissed Stan. What happens next?

Author's Notes: Whoohoo and turrah! This is my most reviewed story! Yay and hurrah! Now, to find out the answer to the big question on all of your minds: Will Stan push Kyle away?

Reviews:

Flabz: You are AWESOME! Yep…put in the kissy! My contribution to Valentine's Day Fever XD

Tako: You are AWESOME! Erm…a good way how?

Cammy: You are AWESOME! Heh…account-getting is encouraged! As is coming back and leaving those other reviews (.). Hurrah for fan-having. There's a lot of great stuff of emoKyle on deviantART, if you want to check that out…

EvanNJames: You are AWESOME! Well…I just did, XD.

Ren85: You are AWESOME! Thou shalt have to waitest and see!

PP Bunny: You are AWESOME! Actually, I DO happen to know that Wendy is, in fact, gone. She's very strong in her convictions, that woman. Hope you get better soon…102.5 is far better used in context of a radio station than a fever temperature…

Unworthy: You are AWESOME! Ooh, props, I'll take some! Heh…I think that was the last chapter with a real cliffhanger…all of Part III can be self-contained chapters without any unresolved plots hanging at the end.

Lumina Lin: You are AWESOME! O.o…I'll try to answer those questions rather quickly here!

-.-

Stan's POV

He's kissing me, oh God, oh God, Kyle's KISSING ME! KYLE'S KISSING ME. Wait a second…

I pull back, interrupting this little thought process quite quickly. He tumbles quite cutely face-first into the couch. I'm not thirty seconds removed from an engagement, of all things, and Kyle's already trying to suck face with me. I've got a few questions about this…

"Erm, Kyle?" I ask, once he's pulled his face out of the couch cushions and is sitting properly on it again. "The fuck was that for?"

"What, you're still not making the connections here?" he asks, somewhat snidely. "I know Kenny would have told you about what I think about your engagement to that stupid bitch. Something along the lines of calling her an undeserving whore, if my thoughts are serving me right. Actually, I think they're right on the money. I don't keep a diary on paper, Stan, that's way too juvenile. But I have one in my mind, and there are endless entries that make reference to you stopping your pursuit of that undeserving whore, and doing those kinds of things to the person you're meant to be with – me."

"Kenny told me you wanted me to be marrying you, yeah," I say. "But I missed hearing you call her an undeserving whore. I'll give you that she's controlling and manipulative, but she deserves SOMEBODY, Kyle. Everybody deserves somebody."

"Then, why the hell can't I have you?" he asks. "Of all the people in the world, who honestly deserves you more than me? Ask yourself that, Stan. I'll wait."

Something deep inside me tells me that he's right. I should know he's right. There are some things that we've done together that go past even super-best-friend stage. Who else do you knock yourself out for to stay with them in the hospital? A person you love. Who else do you threaten to kill someone else for just to be able to talk to them if they died? A person you love, that's who. All the things we've been together set up perfectly for this. All the fates, karma, whatever the hell you want to call it, is pointing directly at those lips on that face.

Kyle's words also tell me something about Kyle himself. He's right about that too…he does deserve somebody. He's saved himself quite well for his true love. He knows who and what he wants, and what he's supposed to have. As illogical as it sounds, I, Stanley Marsh, the Alpha Dog, am supposed to be in a homosexual relationship with Kyle Broflovski, who is about as far removed as you can get from Alpha Male status. Kyle and I have always been there for each other, and whenever we're not, something bad happens.

Like the time Kenny and I went off to California to try and get our money back from Mel Gibson for "The Passion." I left for a while, and Cartman gets the whole town together to try and kill Kyle and the Jews.

Hell, there are just as many times when I stayed in town and bad shit still happened. Like the time Kyle's brother got abducted by aliens, and the only way to get him back was to try Cartman to a tree and make him fart fire. Or the time Kyle needed a kidney transplant from Fatass, or the time Fatass got an amusement park and Kyle got a hemorrhoid. Can't forget the time we got all our parents incarcerated for child molestation, or the time we all – except Kyle – went through that metrosexual fad. Then there's the whole thing with the egg…God, if that doesn't make it blatantly obvious out of all the things we've been through, I don't think anything will.

I like Kyle Broflovski in a non-super-best-friends way. No…I LOVE Kyle Broflovski in a non-super-best-friends way. If I didn't, why the fuck did I spend all that time at college stalking him, trying to get him to talk to me. Why'd I do things I thought would get him to notice me? Because I was worried about him? You don't worry that much about a person you're just friends with. Maybe I was just in denial about it all. I'm sure I had plenty of good rationalizations for it back then, but they're all escaping me right now.

I love Kyle.

Well…then I guess I know what I have to do then.

Kyle is still sitting on the couch. He's staring at his feet, and he's probably either crying or cursing himself for fucking up any chance he thought he ever had with me. I've got to admit, he probably could have waited a while. It's not exactly kosher (ha ha, good one Stanley) to start a make-out session with someone less than a minute after they've broken up with their fiancée.

Moving over to the couch, I slowly reach out and lift his chin up with my hand. I want to do this right, but not too sappy. He has been crying, I notice as I see the tear streaks running down his cheeks. Reaching up with my thumb, I wipe away the tears on one cheek, and the other.

"St-Stan…" he says, uncertainty and fear creeping into his voice. "Wh-What're you doing?" It's as good a cue as any I guess. I lean in myself and catch my love in a sweet kiss on the lips that makes him catch his breath. I slide my other arm up around his back and draw him closer to me, deepening the kiss and probing his lips with my tongue, seeking access, but it's denied. Kyle seems satisfied for the moment with English kissing. Finally, he breaks the kiss and pulls back.

"Damn, you're good," he says, and I smile. "Does this mean what I think it means?" he asks, and I nod.

"I love you, Kyle," I say. "I don't know what's kept me from seeing it before, but I see it now and I'm acting on it. I don't want to lose you again. You're too important to me. What other person would I trick Fatass into giving up a kidney for? Who else would I have by my side when challenging the President on the government's role in 9/11? What other boy would I be egg daddies with?" He's definitely got a smile on his face. That's a fond memory for both of us, apparently.

Something absolutely beautiful enters my head completely unbidden. It doesn't seem like too bad an idea either. I open my mouth and start spouting lines softly, almost in a whisper, barely audible.

"The darkness surrounds, the torture abounds," I whisper. "Every hour, it's not fair, my body cries out in despair." Kyle freezes. He knows it's his; he's just trying to remember it himself.

"There's only one thing that I'm needing," he says, "To make me stop this spiritual bleeding."

"Ever since he left my life, I've experienced naught but strife," I continue. "Should I come near him again,"

"I strongly feel my fear would win," Kyle picks up. "And send me fleeing from his arms, the only place I'm ever warm."

"Oh heart, oh heart, why oh why must you impart," we both say in unison, "Such terrible fear upon my soul, for without him – " a pause to look each other in the eye, "I am not whole."

"Stan…that's beautiful," Kyle says, apparently glossing over the fact that they're his words to begin with. I can't deny they fit the situation perfectly though…I wouldn't be me without Kyle.

"Thank yourself, it's your poem," I say.

"You're not going to abandon me again?" he asks.

"Never," I say. "I'll be here fore you whenever you need me. If you think you can't do something, call me and I'll be here as fast as my car will take me. If you feel you need more Vicodin, call me and I'll give you kisses that will make you forget your own name, much less any drug desires. If you have any problems with insolent little artistes, I'm right next door, and know most of them personally." I rise and head for the door.

"Where're you going?" Kyle asks. At first, I think it's a stupid question.

"Home," I answer. Then the reason strikes me…it probably wouldn't be best to go home until I'm sure Wendy is gone. She's likely to kill me for breaking up with her…and telling her I've hooked up with Kyle the "emo fag" probably wouldn't help matters any.

Apparently this stricken look has made it to my face, because Kyle gets up and says, with no small degree of a smirk, "It's alright, Stan. You can stay the night here. Just don't expect me to put out on the first night. Do I have any food?"

-.-

Erm…yeah, that's it! Turned out pretty nice, I think, even if it's STILL not above 2000 words... Plenty of throwbacks and allusions, but most of them are mainstream enough for even a casual fan (which I doubt any of you are!) to know what the hell Stan's talking about.

And, in other news…my keyboard has decided to be dumb and not produce quotation marks unless I hit another key afterwards…stupid thing.

Anyways, please read and review! It makes me happy, and I think you have plenty of reason to make me happy now!

El autor