I debated even writing this chapter because it seems a little reaching and it was never part of the plan. Well guess what, Cupcake, LOVE DOESN'T FOLLOW A PLAN!

Really what happened is I was writing Stan calling Kenny in the last chapter and I was like no… this could go somewhere all on its own… plus it adds more fuel to the fire for later on. And who wants small flames?

A sane person.

Enjoy.

POV - Stan

"Ugh." Stan looked down at the empty bottle in his hand, fully regretting the ridiculous events that had just transpired not more than 30 minutes ago.

In his post-broken-hearted spiral, Stan had decided to get himself a little something to take the edge off. So he'd driven down to the local liquor store, and paid some creepy old guy to buy him booze. Something he could drink quickly, nothing too gross.

He came back with wine.

Then it had all happened so fast. Stan had meant to wait till he got home, but he'd twisted off the cap, just to smell it. It smelled really good, so he had a sip.

The next thing he knew, Stan was wine-drunk in the passenger seat of his dad's car, crying into the leather seat behind him.

"Kyle." Stan spoke out loud to himself between sniffles. "I need to call Kyle."

Stan dialed the phone number he'd had memorized, practically since birth, and waited patiently for the ring.

And another.

And another.

Ring.

Click.

"Hi, you've reached Kyle—"

"DAMMIT" Stan slammed his phone down and whined as he settled on calling Kenny instead, though the conversation still ended up revolving around Kyle.

"Hello?"

"Kenny."

"Hey Stan… you ok? You don't sound ok."

"I wanna talk to Kyle."

"Then call Kyle."

"I'm so sad, Kenny..."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No, I wanna talk to Kyle."

"Call Kyle?"

"I TRIED! He's not answering."

"Stan. Calm down. And then call Kyle."

"Ok."

"Call me if you can't get a hold of him."

"Ok."

Stan hung up the phone and breathed in shakily. "You better pick up, dude." He muttered to himself as he dialed again.

Stan was relieved when he'd heard the click of the receiver on the other end.

"Hey dude."

"Wendy broke up with me."

"…on Wednesday?"

"Yes!"

"…Uh-huh… and?"

"And it's really over, Kyle. I don't know what to do. No more Wendy! Forever!"

"Jesus Christ. Ok, you want to come over?"

"I can't, I'm drunk on car wine."

"Stan Marsh, you fucking idiot! You stay right there and don't fucking move, I'll come get you. Drop me your location."

"Thank you." Stan was about to hang up the phone what he remembered something very important. "Wait, Kyle!"

"What, Stan."

"I love you."

"Yeah… I love you too. Be right there."

About 20 minutes later, Kyle rolled up to the liquor store, in his mom's gold sedan, a sweatshirt thrown over his pajamas, and an irritated look on his face. A smaller, Canadian version was sitting next to him.

"What's Ike doing here?" Stan wondered as he watched the smaller Broflovski hop out of the passenger seat.

"He's gonna drive your car back home to my house." Kyle explained, reaching across Stan for the empty bottle in the center console. Stan glanced over and watched Ike jump in, pajamas on his back and fuzzy slippers on his feet.

"He's 14, he doesn't have a license." Stan reasoned. Turning his head slowly to face the fuming redhead. There's no way he was too drunk to realize this was a bad idea. Kyle tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trash bin, angrily, the glass clattering noisily against other empties at the bottom. Stan watched, dumbfounded, as Ike adjusted the seat and checked all the mirrors.

"Yeah!" Kyle stormed over, voice angrier than his light grip on Stan's arm as he led him to the passenger seat of the other car. "So you better hope we don't get pulled over or you'll be paying his citation fine!" Kyle slammed the door in Stan's face, as he turned walked over to the other car, to give some kind of a small lecture to Ike. Or maybe it was a pep talk. From Kyle, they both sounded about the same.

The two boys drove in silence, Stan resting his aching head against the cold window and Kyle frantically glancing in the rearview mirror every two seconds at the nervous 14 year old driving alone behind them. Kyle lectured Stan about how he was an idiot, and how he couldn't keep doing this, and how he owed Ike a huge apology as well as a giant 'thank you'. Stan nodded against the window he was using as a headrest. Kyle crawled along the residential streets, careful to avoid busy roads or complicated intersections. It had just occurred to Stan, as they eased on past his house, that he didn't really know where they were headed.

"Where are we going?" He mumbled.

"I'm taking you to my house."

"Ok." Stan leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. Wait! "Wait! Kyle! I need to tell my parents I'm not coming home!"

"I already texted your parents. They're pissed you didn't call. And Kenny for that matter, he was worried about you."

"I have the best friends." Stan sighed as he settled comfortably against the window again.

"So what is 'car wine'." Kyle asked after a moment of silence. Stan looked over and saw Kyle's knuckled gripping the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set sternly.

"Wine that you drink in your car." Stan slurred casually.

"Where did you get this 'car wine'?"

"Bought it."

Kyle nodded wordlessly, eyes front, an unreadable expression etched into his familiar face.

"All set?" Kyle asked as he finished tucking in his drunk best friend. Stan nodded. "Ok, I've got a bucket here… just in case…" Kyle pulled a face as he pointed out the plastic bin to Stan, probably picturing the last time Stan had drunk-vomited all over his bedroom. "And I'll just be right down here, so you can have the bed all to yourself. You know… in case you throw up in it…"

"I'll be fiiiiiiine." Stan promised. Though he really had no real way of knowing if that would end up being the truth or not. He guessed only time would tell.

"I'm gonna turn out the light. Do you need anything else?" Stan shook his head.

Kyle reached over and clicked his lamp off, before fluffing Stan's pillows one last time, in a very Sheila-like fashion.

As his eyes started to adjust, Stan could start to see the shadowy outlines of Kyle's hunched form watching him from the edge of the bed. Stan settled in and snuggled against the pillow. It smelled like him. Like Kyle. Stan's Super Best Friend. He loved Kyle. He always smelled like Moroccan oil, whatever the fuck that is.

"You take such good care of me." Stan mumbled into the darkness in front of him. "I don't know why, but you do. Goodnight."

Kyle hesitated, stiff and silent like he was thinking of something important to say. Instead, he stood up slowly and addressed Stan coldly. "Goodnight."

Don't worry, Kyle isn't gonna enable Stan forever, it bothers me that he is right now. But he's human-fiction so, even though he's a perfect smol bean, he's also an imperfect being. Damn, this storyline gets me hyped. Moving on!