Timeless

Chapter Five: Anteros

Summary: Kyle and Stan spend a little well earned time together, before yet another parting.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Authors notes: Sorry about the delay. I am in the hospital, and I had surgery a few days ago. I'm tired, doped up on medication and thinking poorly, but I am still working on this story. Also, you will note this chapter is sickeningly fluffy. After all that angst I desperately needed some fluff. Eric, Kenny, Christophe and the regular drama will be back soon. Also, as to the comment about Christophe being rather evil, don't fret. People do strange, weird things when in love, and he isn't honestly a bad character--though he will get worse before he gets better.

Chapter Five: Anteros

Kyle sat perched on the edge of the bed she shared with Stan, watching his boyfriend pack clothes into a suitcase. He had tried to pack his own suitcase earlier, but found with only one arm, the task was almost impossible. So Stan had promptly launched into packing Kyle's suitcase, urging Kyle to rest himself.

"You just got out of the hospital," Kyle argued, pointing out his boyfriend's injuries.

"They're nearly superficial," Stan corrected. "I'm bruised and sprained, while you broke your arm, and a considerable amount of bones in your hand."

Kyle wanted to argue that but instead leaned back on the bed. "Sure you won't change your mind?" He asked, resting his aching arm softly on his stomach. "Your mom really wants to see you, and I really want you to come with me."

Stan packed the rest of Kyle's clothing and zipped the suitcase shut. "Nah, Kyle, I just really can't. I can't explain, but going this year isn't something I want to do." He flopped down next to Kyle, rubbing his boyfriend's chest in a soothing motion.

"I'm going to miss you." Kyle sneezed lightly. "I don't want to spend Chanukah and Christmas away from you." He couldn't help but nuzzle Stan's shoulder lightly.

In return the brunet nudged the suitcase to the ground and drew the woolen blankets over the both of them. "You don't have to go, you know. Just because your mother wants you there, doesn't mean it's your only option. You could stay here, just the two of us."

Kyle's lips trailed down Stan's throat, whispering promises and loving words. "I have to, you know. Plus, I haven't seen Ike in a while. Chanukah and Christmas is about being with family. You're my family Stan, but so are they. It's important I'm there."

"I'm just worried," Stan confessed. "I don't like you driving the icy and crowded roads, especially with your injury. Plus, you're still getting over your cold, and the medication tends to make you a bit sleepy at times. I worry because too much could happen."

Kyle accepted a sweet kiss from Stan, licking his lips at his boyfriend's maple taste. "I'll be fine. The car's an automatic, and we've already had the chains put on. I'm fine, honestly. Stop worrying yourself so much. I'll leave tomorrow, spend the week down there and be back before the first of the month."

Stan nodded, hugging Kyle close. "I just have a bad feeling."

"It'll be fine." Kyle sighed, but Stan didn't feel any better.

Kyle felt that as much as he wanted to spend Chanukah with his family, leaving right now put him on thin ice. His relationship with Stan was only just beginning to recover, and Kyle couldn't help but worry what would happen if he left his boyfriend alone for Christmas. Still, he had changed his finals around, taken shit from his peers and managed to talk his mother out of marching right up to the college to collect them both. He deserved this trip, and if Stan wasn't going to go, that wasn't Kyle's fault or problem.

"I, uh," He began softly. "I got a new job."

Stan looked at him with a questioning gaze. They locked in a staring contest, and Kyle turned away first. "Christophe's Mother, she was really upset, and tried to get me to stay, but I felt it was best if I didn't work there anymore. I've talk to my dad, and he's got an associate here who's willing to let me on in the firm. Mostly secretary work, but it'll give me some work experience in the field, and it pays well."

"If that's what you feel is best."

That was Stan's way of saying he approved.

"I do."

They made hot chocolate in the kitchen and cuddled together on the sofa in the living room.

"I could drive you down there." Stan handed Kyle two small pills and settled back, drawing his arm around his partner's narrow shoulders. "You know, pop in and see my mom."

"That'd be ridiculous, Stan, and you know it. Driving all the way down there is totally ridiculous, if you don't plan on staying for a while. Plus, I don't want you on the roads any more than you want me. It's dangerous this time of year, and the less people I love on the road, the better."

Stan ran a warm hand down his boyfriend's shirt, slipping it inside to rest on a pale stomach. "So you love me, huh?"

Kyle's breath hitched and he didn't dare to move. "So what if I do?" His palms began to sweat. "Got something to say about that?"

"Maybe." His fingers twitched, spreading.

"Stan--don't you dare."

The brunet raised an eyebrow. "Gonna try and stop me, Broflovski?"

"I-I mean it, Stan," He was contemplating his escape route when his boyfriend launched an attack. "Stan!" In a mere second the hot chocolate was forgotten as Stan's hands began to tickle Kyle mercilessly. No sympathy was shown for injury, though Stan did mind his boyfriend's broken bones.

Their tickle fight progressed into harmless kisses, and then shameful groping. And when Kyle and Stan lay on the floor, legs entwined, both understood the rest of the day was wasted on anything else. They melted together in warm embraces.

"I love you." Stan swallowed hard, reaching out to help Kyle off the hardwood floor.

"And I love you."

There were nearly eleven messages on their answering machine by noon. They didn't manage to answer any of them.

That evening Stan's worry had doubled, and if possible, so had Kyle's anxiety. The storm outside was picking up, and the local news was reporting roads would be closed soon. So instead of leaving the next day, Kyle was forced to push up his departure.

Stan handed Kyle his woolen blue scarf as they stood near the front door. "Got everything you need?"

"Yeah," Kyle double checked, more to reassure Stan than himself. "Make sure you turn the stove off after cooking, and only one cup of detergent when washing clothes. Oh, on second thought, don't wash at all. The last time you tried you mixed the colors and the whites and stained everything. You added way too much detergent, let the washing machine overflow and we spent the whole day cleaning it up. And don't run the dishwasher. It'll be slower to do it by hand, but far more safe. Oh, oh, and really, please remember to get the mail, put it in the right place and don't forget to wash the windows and vacuum the carpet in the bedroom."

Stan bit down on his tongue, afraid to stop Kyle mid-way through.

"I labeled the food in the refrigerator. It's all color coded and stickered for you. Match the sticker to the corresponding date on the chart and everything should be fine. There are double portions of light blue and forest green, for the days you have basketball practice, and don't worry about melon yellow, it's supposed to be that color."

"Yes, Martha Stewart."

"I heard that." Kyle gave Stan a light kiss. "I might be overdoing it … just a bit," He admitted. "But the last time I went away you almost burned down the apartment. Please try not to do that this time."

Stan sighed dramatically. "Kenny is only a call away."

"Kenny can't cook any better than you, and together you're liable to get him killed."

"No," Stan confessed. "But together I'm sure the both of us can dig up enough money to order something in."

Kyle contemplated Stan for a moment. "Do you need me to leave you any money? Don't be ashamed to ask, Stan, honestly."

"No!"

Kyle stood still, almost taken back. "Alright, Mr. Independent. Can you grab my bag?" With a flick of the wrist he gestured to the small black bag sitting in the kitchen.

"Did you make sure everything was in it?" Stan unzipped it, shuffling through the contents in the bag.

"Yes." Subconsciously Kyle rubbed at the spot his donated kidney rested. All those years ago nephropathy had put him in Eric Cartman's debt, and Kyle felt he would never be free of it. Being a Type 1 diabetic he felt he'd always be in someone's debt. It might be Eric for the kidney, or Kenny for pumping Insulin in him after a missed dosage. Or even Stan for recognizing, heaven forbid, if he slipped into a diabetic coma. He had learned to live with the burden of relying on others, but would never truly clear it from his conscious.

"Yeah, it all looks here." Stan handed him the bag. "Call the doctor right away if you feel something is wrong. Especially double check your blood sugar around your mother. She stresses you out, and when you get stressed out you forget to take your shots, or easily miscalculate a dosage. Don't let her affect you. Call me if you need anything."

"Yes, mother," Kyle murmured, allowing Stan to kiss his forehead.

Stan laughed. "You mother me just as much as I mother you. Don't act otherwise."

"Okay."

"Ready to brave the storm?"

They raced together down to Kyle's recovered car. Stan settled Kyle into the driver's seat and rushed around, slipping into the passenger side. "Turn on the fucking heater," Stan hissed, watching Kyle fumble for his keys.

"You'll say hi to Ike for me, right?"

Kyle nodded, cranking the heater up. "Mom's really upset he wants to attend college here with us."

"That kid's IQ makes me sick sometimes." Stan chuckled. "He should be in high school, not thinking about college."

"He's purposely not going to Harvard just to spite her. The little dip actually knows how to annoy our mother and not get caught."

"Pick up some tips from him, won't you?" Stan nearly pleaded.

Kyle pushed himself over and onto Stan's lap. He had to duck his head down, but he fit.

"I told you I'm going to work extra hard this holiday. I'm putting my foot down with my mother. She isn't going to interrupt our lives any more."

Stan's legs began to cramp, but he said nothing. "I bet she's glad I'm not coming, right? No little Christian boy in her home, polluting her perfect Chanukah. No evil man sharing her precious, innocent boy's bed."

"She isn't glad," His tone was annoyance.

"She's ecstatic," Stan corrected.

Kyle laughed deeply, sniffing and pressing his warm nose into Stan's neck. "Maybe just a little."

"Call me when you get there?

The red head nodded, placing his cool hands on Stan's face. "I'll see you in a while." He dipped down to plant a chaste kiss on Stan's lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

The holidays were bound to be anything but happy, both realized.