Hey there Delilah
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes

- - -

"Kyle, you're drunk!" Cartman slurred, stumbling out of a bar, himself totally hammered. Kyle giggled. A little more femininely than he would ever admit to. Hanging all over Cartman, Kyle blubbered, "Dude, you're totally fucking right."

There were what seemed like hundreds camera around them, but the foolishly grinning pair paid no attention. They were used to it.

"Cartman! Cartman, fuck! Ah, I'm fucking wasted!" said Kyle. Cartman raised his eyebrows as Kyle hung all over him. As you probably guessed, Cartman was a moody drunk. He pushed Kyle away, sending him flying into one of the paparazzi. Kyle giggled and grabbed unto the flustered man. "Dance with me!" he said. And promptly started to dance what looked like a cracked out version of the hokey pokey.

Cartman, sloshed as he was, realized that Kyle was in terrible danger of looking foolish to the media. So, being the asshole that he was, he let him continue to make a fool of himself. Kyle spotted Cartman snickering to himself, so he walked over and grabbed his hand. Still twirling around, Kyle giggled.

And giggled.

And giggled.

Before he knew it, he and Cartman were on the floor, wrestling. Dude, I'm fucking fucked up, Kyle thought as Cartman punched him in his nose.

If someone were to get an aerial view of the location of Cartman and Kyle at this very moment, they would have seen two adult males wrestling, and about fifty adult males taking pictures. Of course, wrestling on the sidewalk was not something two adult males usually engaged in. Especially two adults who happened to be superstars.

Anyway, Kyle was giggling and rolling around on the ground with Cartman, plain and simple. It was a whirlwind tornado of red hair and camera flashes. Confusion was amass.

Then came the fateful moment that tossed the normally quiet Kyle into the spotlight. It wasn't really a big deal, just some drunken romping. But somehow, throughout punches and kicks being thrown around, Kyle found the space to lean forward and peck Cartman on the cheek.

He promptly passed out.

Startled, Cartman got up and got his bearings. He quietly wondered where everyone had went before he felt himself being pushed into a car and heard shrill yelling that sounded vaguely like Wendy. It figures it would be that hippie bitch, he thought before he blacked out.

- - -

"Ow, my head." Kyle said grumpily, rolling over to Stan's side of the bed. Briefly wondering wear Stan was, Kyle got up and went over to the medicine cabinet and took out some Novril. He was about to go back to bed when he was shoved to the ground. All of a sudden, he found himself with a bloody nose to go nicely with his hangover.

He looked up and realized that the blur of yellow pajamas and fury was the one and only fatass that was the bane of his existence. Cartman was panting and looked red with fury as he reached down with one fist and went to punch Kyle again before he was pulled back by Stan.

Cartman was struggling and looked ready to kill Kyle, who was still oblivious to Cartman's reason of being so furious. Cartman soon enlightened him with a magazine with a picture of himself and Kyle in a very dirty position, with him on the bottom with his legs in the air and Cartman with one hand in his hair, thrust in his face.

"Why does the entire fucking world think we're having an affair, Kahl?!"

Oh...

- - -

A/N: AAAAH!!!!!

I'm such an asshole. I can't help but update minutes before my deadline.

Forgive me, Sera!

x_x

Any Stephen King fans got the Misery plug? ;3 The inner Kyman fan in me couldn't resist writing this.

Happy Easter~!

Hey There Delilah - Plain White T's