Title: Timeless
Chapter Two: Christophe
Summary: Kyle and Christophe set and break barriers. Stan nearly suffers a break down, and Kenny realizes his Jewish friend might not be nearly as faithful as he first assumed.
Disclaimer: See first chapter
Warnings: Slash, bad grammar on my part.
Chapter Two: Christophe
Kyle was instantly regretting his clash with Stan earlier that morning. Perched on the edge of a table, cleaning rag in hand he couldn't help but feel low. It wasn't as if he didn't recognize the problems his mother brought to their relationship, but instead, just as Stan, he didn't quite know how to deal with her. Ignoring Sheila Broflovski wasn't an option, they had learned first hand.
Across from Kyle, Christophe stood, his own rag in hand. "Hey, Broflovski, get off that toosh. I'm not paying you to sit around and look cute."
A firm shade of red covered his face as he hopped down. "You're not paying me anyway, your mother is." He gestured to the quaint French restaurant. "Unless you own the place now." With his retort said, he turned promptly to finish cleaning the tables.
Contrary to Stan's belief, Kyle knew full and well what Christophe wanted from him. He had made his intentions very clear from the moment Kyle had begun working there. However Stan obviously lacked confidence in their relationship. Christophe was a wonderful person, but Kyle loved Stan. He'd never betray the man who held his heart, and he could only pray Stan wouldn't either.
Christophe was forward, yes, but also respectful of his relationship. He had been rather vocal in his interest, but he had yet to invaded his personal space. He had never taken advantage of Kyle coming in early or staying late. He was a friend whom Kyle knew would always be there for him. He just couldn't help feeling a bit sorry, though. Christophe wanted so much more than friendship, and Kyle doubted that would ever happen.
"Have another fight with Stan?" Christophe questioned.
Kyle scrubbed harder at a stain on the normally glossy table. "Yes."
Christophe set down his rag. "I take it your mother called? Chanukah?"
The French man really knew him too well. Kyle realized he really ran his mouth too much.
"You have to put your foot down, Kyle. Stop acting like a little pussy and tell her you're not gonna take her shit any more."
Kyle threw his dirty rag at Christophe's head and deposited his cleaning liquid in a back sink. "That's my mother you're talking about!" His voice echoed through the kitchen. He shivered and flipped on the warm water.
"Yeah," Christophe appeared at the door to the kitchen. "But she's also making your life a living hell. She's fucking up your relationship with Stan. And while I'd normally love this, she's also making you upset. You're showing signs of depression."
Kyle waved to another member of the staff as he entered. "My mother doesn't quite know how to take a hint. She's positive if she pesters me enough I'll break up with Stan and date a nice little Jewish boy."
"But you like Stan the way he is."
"I love Stan the way he is," Kyle corrected. "I'm not giving him up without a fight."
Christophe sighed and rested his hands on Kyle's shoulder blades. "If you don't do something you're going to lose that fight. Stan's a tough guy, but even he has his breaking point. How do you think he feels being second best in your life? Always stuck in the back seat?"
"He's not second best. The difference is I can reason with him, while my mother is like Hitler." The Jew's frown deepened. "Okay, wrong choice of words. But she's totally unmovable."
"Come'on," Christophe nodded towards the back door. He fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket as they crossed the threshold into the cold. "I guess we're dumping our meetings, right? No more secret rendezvous?"
Kyle merely pulled his jacket closer. "You can't come over anymore--at least not for a while. You left your cigarettes at my apartment yesterday and Stan found them this morning. He's all uber suspicious now and I wouldn't doubt him stalking you or I for a while."
"Possessive much?" He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag.
"Not possessive, just protective." He leaned against a brick wall in the alley. "Stan has always been very protective of things close to his heart. He's worried you'll hurt me. And he's even more scared of being hurt himself. His snooping and accusations are a defense of sorts."
"You shouldn't have to defend him."
A glare settled over Kyle's face. "You shouldn't be so nosey."
Chrisophe dropped this cigarette to the ground and stomped on it with his heel. "What was your fight about this morning?" Then he added, "And I'm only as nosey as you want me to be."
"My mom wants Stan and I to come down for Chanukah and stay for Christmas. Stan doesn't want to go, but I think it's important to spend this time of the year with our family. Then he found your cigarettes and blew up even further. He doubts my loyalty, and thinks I have an interest in you." Christophe's hand settled onto his shoulder and Kyle knocked it away. "Which I don't, but that's besides the point."
"So you're hiding out here," The tall, French man assessed. "A very strategic move, Broflovski. He knows exactly where to find you, and yet won't come around for fear of being exposed."
"You have to stay away from me." Kyle turned quickly, heading back towards the backdoor. "Scrap the plans, the meetings and everything we had going on. It's too dangerous now, not with Stan snooping around." The Jewish man's spirits fell further. "Maybe we can try again in a few months."
Christophe let him leave the alley with a dark look, but he wasn't willing to let Kyle leave his life completely.
Stan had only lost his temper further as the day progressed. Now, marching from his Chemistry class with Kenny at his side, Stan was allowing his anger to vent. The blonde boy, normally clothed in an orange parka, listened and offered what support he could. He only needed to duck a few times from Stan's animated talking.
"You should calm down before you see Kyle," Kenny suggested.
Stan shook slightly, fighting for control. "You mean if he comes home. You just wait, Kenny, just wait. Tonight I'll get a call from him and he'll tell me he's staying at Craig's or heaven forbid, Christophe's house. He'll give me this lame excuse about working late, or studying late, and he'll think he's flown right under the radar. Well, let me tell you, even with my practice, school and work, I'm able to see through his lies. He doesn't fool me, but he sure thinks he does."
"Seesh, man." Kenny dug through his pockets for his car keys. Lately he had been coming to see Stan and Kyle less and less, right around the time the relationship had begun to deteriorate. He attended a nearby Community College, and while driving over was no big deal, listening to either of them rant was. His friends were going off on totally unfounded theories, and destroying themselves more than anyone else. "Don't be a dork, you know Kyle's busy with work and he does study a lot. You know you don't honestly think Kyle is cheating on you."
Stan shrugged. "Not really, not on purpose. I just think he'll be moody and depressed like me, and Christophe can tempt or easily overpower him--"
The football player stumbled, less than graceful as Kenny knocked him over the back of his head with a book bag. "You're such an asshole, Stan. You don't go around assuming or insinuating friends rape each other. Christophe would never 'over power' him as you so tactfully said."
"Shut it. You haven't known him for nearly as long as Kyle and I."
They slid into Kenny's worn car and the blonde jerked the heater on right away.
"You just don't see," Stan tired again. "That piece of French shit is always looking at him, and, and," He stopped suddenly. He felt the beginning of tears on the edge of his eyes and his throat constricted. He was going to lose it, over his sweet boyfriend and a French guy who really didn't pose that much a threat to him. He refused to let Christophe get the better of him. Kyle wasn't Christophe's boyfriend, and he never would be.
He managed to feign a neutral expression. A change of topic was necessary.
"Kyle said you and Cindy aren't getting along. What the matter?"
Kenny shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot. "Nothing that the bitch can't fix with a bit of Midol." Then the blonde paused in his thoughts. When had the told Kyle he and Cindy were fighting again? The last time he had spoken to Kyle about her had been weeks ago, and the relationship had been fine at the time. Maybe he had and didn't realize it.
"Elaborate," Stan demanded.
"Eh, it's nothing," Kenny waved off. "She's just being a lazy douche. She's extra cranky, pissy and I swear to God, if she doesn't stop kicking me out of the bedroom I'm moving out. I guess it's that time of the month, but damn, it's worse than ever." Kenny fumbled for a pack of cigarettes. "She's driving me up a wall, man. I'm going to lose it soon."
Stan paused for just a moment. "Oh, that reminds me." He dug through his book bag for a moment and retrieved a pack of cigarettes. "Kyle said you left these at our apartment yesterday. Take them off me, and try not to forget the nasty things again. Neither of us need the things littering our place."
Kenny took them back with a worried expression. "Dude," He began, not really knowing what to say. He certainly had not been over at their apartment yesterday. Actually, he had called Kyle with an intention of visiting, but the male had said he was expecting company the whole day. Suddenly Kenny wondered if his faith in Kyle had been misplaced. "Never mind, thanks. I'll try not to forget." Oh, he was certainly going to have a talk with Kyle, and rather soon. He wanted to know just what was going on.
"Listen," Stan said. "Thanks for just listening to me … rant, rave, talking, scream, whatever you want to call it. You know how I get from time to time."
"Yeah, sure." Kenny swallowed uneasily. Was he supposed to voice his concerns to Stan? And if he did, how would he? "So, do you want to swing by and see Kyle? He usually gets break during this time, right?"
After a brief moment of consideration Stan shook his head. "Nah, let's just head back to the apartment. Kyle gets off at six."
At eight Kyle called home. He left a quick message on the answering machine--he was going to be working extra late-- and hung up his uniform. Going back home to Stan just didn't seem like an option. He didn't want to fight with him, or worse, sit in silence. He had a hunch if he did that his mind would betray him.
He gave a wave to Christophe's mother, Marie, and headed out the door. Halfway to his car his shoulder was caught. He jerked backwards and spun quickly, hoping to catch his attacker off balance.
"Gracious God!" He managed to catch himself just before his fist connected with Christophe's nose.
"Woah, there, Kyle. What's with the reaction times?"
Kyle wanted to tell him he and Stan had taken classes. Together they were safe enough, but in a homophobic, redneck town like South Park, being separated was never a smart idea. They had taken the class in an attempt to better prepare themselves for a hostile world, and now it proved that class was an asset. However, in reply to Christophe's question he answered, "It's that Jewish blood, Mole. Not my fault you can't keep up."
Christophe ignored that. "I take it you're going to sulk? And probably in a park."
Kyle took a step away from the male, disliking the direction of the conversation. "Why can't you leave me alone? I'm not in the mood to play. I've spent the past twelve plus hours feeling sorry for myself, and I can have a few more hours if I want."
"Not when you're going out to get hypothermia." Kyle gave him a questioning look and Christophe looked rather smug. "Yes, I know about the last time you were like this--last week, matter of fact. Spent all night in the park's parking lot, in the freezing cold. Do you know how stupid that is in Colorado?"
How did Christophe know?
"I can't go home."
"Don't."
The two men shared a look, neither able to read the other's expression. Christophe caved first. "I mean, if you won't go home to Stan, you better come home with me."
"Oh, no." Without warning Kyle turned on heel and rushed towards his car.
By the time Christophe caught him again, they were in front of Kyle's car. In a mere second Kyle's reflexes failed him and Christophe had him pinned against the Chevy.
"Listen, Broflovski," Christophe told him, in a slow voice. "I may want to be your lover, but I get I'm not. However," and he stressed the however, "I am your friend, and I will not allow you to go freeze to death in a parking lot some where. If you aren't going back to Stan, you sure as hell are coming with me. I'll pick you up, throw you in my truck and kidnap you if necessary. So don't fuck with me, Kyle, just don't."
Kyle felt a flash of fear, along with the car's metal pressing into his back. Christophe's eyes told him there wasn't any way out of the situation. Rather, he wasn't getting out other than what Christophe approved of. In the back parking lot, in the evening hours Christophe clearly had the advantage. He was taller, stronger and heavier. Kyle understood he didn't stand a chance, even with years of self defense. Stan's concerned flashed in his mind, and suddenly he did want to go home to his boyfriend. The wonderful male who cooked an awesome tomato soup, and the same man who gave great massages. The man Kyle had loved for the longest amount of time.
Despite his mind's change, the pressure Christophe was pushing on him caused his breath to catch in his chest and he replied, "Alright." Then before he knew it, Christophe was dragging him over to his truck.
"I'll bring you back to the restaurant tomorrow, and you can pick up your car then." He buckled himself into Christophe's tuck as the other asked, "Do you need to call Stan and tell him?"
Low blow, he realized. Chistophe knew he wouldn't. His mind screamed yes, but a simple no came out, and they were on their way. Halfway to Christophe's house Kyle was reconsidering just what the French man's intentions were.