Authors Note: Thank you so very much for the reviews. -Cartman Voice- I love you Guhs.


Chapter 14- Tastes Like Kenny.

There was silence throughout the Broflovski residence. Darkness had settled over the home long ago, enveloping the sleeping family in the full comfort of night. Appearances were deceiving, as was the case at the moment. Kyle didn't sleep, wasn't wrapped in comfort at all. Tremors wrecked his lanky body as he sat on his bed with his blanket strewn over his head, unaware his best friend had done the exact same thing only one week ago.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you just going to hide under your blanket all night long?"

"Go away, Kenny."

He frowned at the haunted sounding voice, edging closer to his obviously rattled friend. "C'mon. It can't be that bad."

Kyle pulled the light yellow blanket closer around himself, trying to shake off the feeling of exposure. His orange hooded friend could only smile at the gesture.

"He came all over you, right?"

"Kenny- God!"

"We haven't even screwed yet, and you're already calling me a God?" He teased. "So, am I right about our fuckalicious friend?"

"Leave me alone." He emphasized each word, slow and clear.

"You're being a pussy."

"I am not a pussy! God damnit, Kenny, I'm sick and tired of defending myself to you! If I wanted to be insulted I would hang out with Cartman!"

Kenny shook his head in exasperation, "If you're not a pussy, come out from under there. You aren't eight years old anymore." Silence greeted him, adding fuel to fire. "Alright, Kyle. If you wont come out, I'm coming in."

He wasted no time in grasping the hem of the blanket and yanking it up and over his own head. This, of course, didn't set right with Kyle at all.

"Get the hell out of here, you bastard!"

"No, it's cozy." Came the logical retort.

His debate won him a prompt and violent shove in the chest. His fingers instinctively grasped the front of Kyle's - or rather Stan's - shirt to keep from toppling backward. Instead, he brought the Jew down with him, where they both hit the carpeted floor in a tangle of blanket. Kyle found himself flat on his back, Kenny lain atop him with eyes dancing in excitement.

"I love it most in this position." He cooed.

"You die, Kenny! You die and go to hell!"

He frowned at the murderous words and sat up, allowing Kyle to do the same. He could see green eyes glowing with danger through the darkness, hateful and cold with an underlying hint of fear. All jokes aside, he reached a hand out and settled it on his friends shoulder.

"Kyle, what happened in Stan's room?"

Hesitation, a breath of fear and then, "I don't know."

"You have to know, you were there."

Kyle didn't protest when Kenny caught sight of the picture he clutched, nor did he try to prevent him from pulling it away for inspection.

"Stan," He stalled as the name left his lips, amazed at the emotions it stirred up. "…was holding it."

Kenny peered at him over the top of the photograph, nodding in understanding before surrendering it again. "You know you can talk to me about anything. I may be a dirty little bastard, but I love you, Kyle. I love all of you, and I would do anything for you guys."

"I know," His voice held a quiver. He leaned his back against the side of his bed, looking up as a sigh escaped his lungs. "I wanted to wake him up. I was going to kiss him like you told me to. But I couldn't do it. I started talking to him instead. I had to… I had to get it out. He breathed out my name in his sleep and I-" He paused, embarrassment creeping over. "I took Cartman's advice."

Kenny thought a moment, his eyes widening as realization sunk in. "You held him down and moaned in his ear?"

"Shh!" Kyle scolded harshly, glancing to his door to check for light that would indicate they had woken anyone. "I didn't hold him down, he was sleeping. I just leaned over and… started… talking first."

"Talking?"

"Talking dirty."

Kenny's eyebrows shot up with interest. "What did you say, exactly?"

He was honored with a glare. "None of your god damn business."

"Okay, okay." He held his hands up in surrender. "And then you moaned in his ear?"

"… Yeah."

Kenny shifted uncomfortably, trying hard to keep the appealing image out of his head. "And did he do anything?"

The redhead nodded shamefully, his eyes glued to the blanket lying between them. "He started," He swallowed hard, avoiding eyes contact by fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. "… He started moaning back."

"Damn," Kenny blinked, shifted again. "Oh, damn that's hot."

Kyle wasn't put off by the remark at all, being too distraught to care. "That's not all."

His company paused. "It's not?"

He shook his head. "He was hard, Kenny." He squeezed his eyes closed before finishing his confession. "And I was, too."

Kenny's eyes were now practically bulging out of his head. He casually flipped a corner of Kyle's blanket over his lap for good measure and swallowed dryly. "So, uh … So, Stan is hot for you. I knew it! I could smell his sexual frustration a mile away!" He proceeded at Kyle's glower. "… And you're saying you're hot for him, too?"

"No!" Kyle stood abruptly, unconsciously falling into a pace. "I mean… I don't know. I never really thought about it before." He paused, his eyes held captive by a spot on the carpet. "I have had some thoughts about him lately. Weird thoughts."

"Like what?"

He tugged at the material of the shirt he wore. "Like this," He admitted, smiling down at it sorrowfully. "I never gave it back because I like wearing it. And it's not just the fact that he said it looks good on me, it's because it belongs to Stan. When I wear it, I'm surrounded by him and I … like that feeling."

"You like feeling close to him, even when he isn't there." Kenny filled in.

Kyle's expression brightened. "Yeah."

"Any other 'weird' thoughts?"

He bit his lower lip, closely examining his darkened ceiling for answers. "I couldn't stop thinking about kissing him after we were in Romeo and Juliet. It felt so real, you know? It felt so right."

"Maybe it was right." Kenny theorized. "The two of you have always been close. Maybe it's possible you fell in love with each other somewhere along the line, regardless that you aren't normally attracted to dudes. A person is a person, and love knows no boundaries. Is it so crazy to think that you love Stan for who he is and not what he has in his pants?"

Kyle's arms wrapped around his own waist, trying to ward of the fear wavering over him. Kenny was making too much sense. It all sounded so logical, so simple. "But I was… h-hard."

A broad smile slashed across the blue eyed blonde. "When you're in love with someone, naturally you're going to want to screw them senseless. It's a gift, Kyle, embrace it." He clutched the air before him and squeezed his fists tight to emphasize his words.

"But I'm not gay. I'm not even metrosexual."

Kenny waved it off and rolled his eyes. "Silly Jew, labels are for Christians. Don't worry about whether or not it makes you 'gay'. All it makes you is human."

"I don't know, Kenny," He wasn't convinced. "Maybe I was just caught up in the moment. You know how it is."

Kenny checked the status of his covered lap and nodded. "I sure do." He stood from the floor and moved to stand directly in front of the skeptic. "Lets test you."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, not again."

"Do you want to find out or not?" Kenny snapped.

Kyle sighed. "God damnit."

"I take that as a yes," Kenny cheered. "I want you to close your eyes."

"No way."

"Why the hell not, don't you trust me?"

"No."

Kenny feigned a hurt look and clutched at his chest. "You're breaking my heart."

Kyle folded his arms sternly. "I'm sorry, but any plan that involves you and me in a closed room with my eyes shut is setting me up for nothing but trouble, and giving you full rights to take advantage of that."

"You read too much." Kenny insulted. "I promise I'm not going to rape you or I would have done it already."

"Gee, that's encouraging." The suspicious party dared to ask, "What are you going to do?"

"You are going to use your imagination. Just think of me as a prop."

"What kind of prop?" His curiosity had obviously claimed the upper hand.

"A fill-in for Stan." Kenny declared. "Just close your eyes and let your mind take you away. We can stop anytime you want, just say the word."

"This is such a gay idea." He decided as he closed his eyes.

"It's a brilliant idea." Kenny revised. "First, try and drown out my voice, kind of like when you read a book and you don't even see the words because you're too absorbed in what's happening. Can you do that?"

"I think so."

"Good. Don't open your eyes. Now, picture yourself in Stan's room. It's dark, but there's a dim light illuminating everything with a soft glow. You can smell his scent lingering in the air, and you know by the increasing pound of your heart that he's going to be walking in any moment."

Kyle sucked in a sturdy breath, playing out the scene in his mind. He could envision it all so perfectly; The room, the smell, the familiarity. Stan. All Stan.

"You hear the hinges of his door creek open," Kenny opened Kyle's door for effect. "He pauses when he sees you, but lets the door shut behind him."

He closed the door and walked back to Kyle. "He approaches you and gently places his palm to your cheek." Kenny reached up, acting out his own scene. "His fingers graze your skin as his other arm wraps around your waist and pulls you against him." There was no resistance when Kenny drew Kyle close against his body.

Kenny fought to keep his hormones under control. Being pressed against his Jewish friend was certainly making it easier to play the role of seductive Stan. He let his breath puff onto Kyle's neck, finally permitting his lips quick contact on the sweet scented skin. He squeezed his eyes closed and leaned his forehead against Kyle's cheek, trying to claim control over his senses. The redheads erratic breathing wasn't helping matters any, but Kenny was able to right his position and continue onward.

"You're looking straight into his eyes, and he's gazing back at you lovingly. He-" He paused at the sensation of Kyle's hands sliding up his chest and shoulders to lock around his neck. "He smiles at you and traces his finger over your lips. The feel of your body is making him so hot, Kyle. He wants to kiss you, slow and deep."

A whimper of longing escaped Kyle's throat, encouraging his friends advances.

"His passion clouded eyes close and he leans into you. You can feel his breath against your face just as his lips touch yours."

Kenny closed the space between himself and his daydreaming friend, getting his own shock when Kyle eagerly kissed back.

"Mmm." Kyle purred against Kenny's lips and delved in for a deeper, more passionate taste. His hands pushed off the hood and sifted up through the golden hair.

Kenny went with it, allowing Kyle's almost violently increasing excitement overtake him. It was Kyle's tongue that violated Kenny's mouth, Kyle's hands that began to roam and touch, and it was Kyle's soft moans filling the air of the room.

Kenny's hands shot out behind him, catching the top of the side table his friend had passionately slammed him into. It wasn't until his own moan of pleasure found its way out that Kyle released him abruptly.

Kenny sunk down the table to the ground, his hood now resting on his shoulders and his breath completely gone. "Who… ever," He began through pants. "Said Jew's have no… rhythm," He blew out a long breath. "Have obviously never been frenched by one."

Kyle hung his head in misery. "I lost control."

"That's a good thing." Kenny promised, finding it in himself to stand again. He took in another deep breath and blew it out again, still not completely caught up on oxygen. "Damn, Kyle. That was scrum-didly-umptious."

"Heh, Yeah..." Kyle smiled uneasily and let it die out again, looking back down at his shoes. "But your kisses don't taste right."

Kenny's eyebrows furrowed. "Thanks a lot, asshole. I may be poor, but I brush my goddamn teeth."

"No, don't you get it?" Kyle whined. "I stopped because your kisses don't taste like Stan's. It shattered the illusion that you were him, and I," His voice lowered several notes. "I wanted you to be."

"Woo hoo!" Kenny cheered softly. "The verdicts out, you're hot for Stan!"

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"It is," He assured. "Now you can pick a weekend and bang each other all night long. That would be so lip-smacking, finger licking good. Record it for me."

There was a pause when Kyle opened his mouth to protest the remark, then sighed and shifted the conversation slightly. "I need him to talk to me again before I do anything."

"I'll help you." Kenny slipped a comforting arm around Kyle.

Kyle slapped his hands over his eyes. "Oh, God."

Kenny chuckled and pulled him into a hug. "Don't worry, I've helped you this far, and I'll help you 'til the end. Now, get some sleep tonight, you're going to need your energy tomorrow."

He gave Kyle's ass a playful slap, receiving a nice pelvis thrust from the surprised boy. Kenny flipped his hood back on, laughing as Kyle rubbed his stinging bottom.

"Later, hot ass." He winked before making his departure out the window.


What was it about telephones that made it so much harder to talk to someone? Some people found it easier than coming face to face, but Wendy found herself wiping her perspirating palms on the thighs of her pants before retrieving her phone. Nervousness wasn't a feeling that was all too familiar to her, and the feeling struck her as a pain in the ass. Maybe it stemmed from the fact that she wouldn't be able to read his expression, making it more difficult to interpret his emotions. Or maybe it was simply the fact that it was Cartman she was calling. Whether it was expression reading or Cartman, she clicked the 'Talk' button and carefully punched in the proper numbers.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Cartman. This is Wendy Testaburger. May I speak with Eric?"

"Sure you can, just a moment."

Wendy could hear her place a hand over the mouthpiece and then muffled talking.

"Hon? Phone call."

"I can't right now, tell whoever it is to piss off!" Cartman's gruff voice shot back.

"Now, Eric, you said you were going to try and be nicer to your little friends."

"Well, yeah, how else was I going to get you to buy me that sweet new game box?"

"If you don't keep your promise, I'll be forced to take it back to the store."

"But mom, I'm trying to get my stuff together so I can go visit one of my asshole friends."

"No phone call, no game box."

"Son of a bitch," His voice grew louder as he accepted the call. "What the hell do you want? I've got shit to take care of and assholes to blackmail."

Wendy squeezed the bottom of her phone with her free hand in apprehension. "Hi, Cartman."

There was a stretch of silence before he presented her with a beautiful greeting. "What the hell are you calling for, hippie?"

The urge to protest the insult was strong, but she was somehow able to keep her voice calm and friendly. "I wanted to hear your voice."

Cartman's impatience all but evaporated at the words. For once he was completely speechless, though still unsure how truthful she was being.

"Nuh uh."

"Yes, I did." She responded. "That, and I wanted to discuss our wager."

The sentence was enough to ignite Cartman's short fuse. "You're such a whore, Wendy. A deal is a deal. I get the assholes Stan and Kyle to hump each other and you have to go out with me."

She smiled on the other end of the line. "Oh, Cartman. I don't want out of the deal, I want you to win."

Cartman's confused frown deepened. "What?"

Wendy sunk onto her couch with a sigh and closed her eyes. She could vividly picture Stan's obvious heart ache when he had confessed his love for Kyle the previous day. It had been all she could think about, and could only hope Cartman could help to mend their broken friendship.

"Stan's a wreck without Kyle. I want to see you succeed in bringing their relationship back together."

"Even at the expense of going out with me?" He sounded puzzled.

"If you're willing to do something as selfless as that just for me, then going out with you will be a privilege not an expense."

He blinked. "Nuh uh."

Wendy couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her throat at his obvious bewilderment. He was such a selfish bastard, and yet so disbelieving anyone could ever truly like him. He was also very good at conforming people to what he wanted them to do. He was certainly the one to go to if you needed help. It broke Wendy's heart to see Stan so miserable, and wanted nothing more than his happiness restored.

"I'm really looking forward to our first date," She used her seductive voice, the one that always used to make Stan turn to putty. "Maybe I'll even let you kiss me. Don't let me down."

Cartman clicked his phone off after the sound of a click and dial tone filled his ears. It took him a moment or maybe two for her works to actually sink in and make complete sense. Not only had she said she wanted him to win, she had said she was looking forward to it, and had apparently been thinking about locking lips. All it would take is getting Stan and Kyle to talk again, and that should be easy, considering they always did have a boner for each other. Wendy was as good as his.

"Ah, sweet!"

He flew out the door and broke into a run, leisure at best, but still a run. He huffed and puffed his way clear across the neighborhood until he reached the Marsh's door. Luckily, he had just armed himself with the necessary materials to visit his dear friend, Stan, moments before his hippie-angel appeared. When his pounding fist wasn't answered at once, he began verbal assault.

"God damnit, Stan! You'd better open this door right now, asshole, or so help me I will reach my hand through the lock and pull you out by your nuts!" He paused just long enough to suck in a breath. "Do you hear me, you Jew loving, ass ramming, son of a-"

The door swung open, nearly knocking the threatener in the face.

"Jesus Christ, fat ass, what the hell?" Stan demanded.

He looked miserable. Evidence of a sleepless night stained the silk skin beneath his eyes. His expression presented a mix of guilt, torment, and heartache. To complete the look, it was obvious recent tears had been shed. Any normal person would feel compassionate. But Eric Cartman could only scoff.

"God, what a fag."

Stan graced the remark with a glare and attempt at slamming the door, but Cartman caught it with his foot.

"Not so fast, asshole."

"What the hell do you want, Cartman?" Stan shot back.

"Wendy."

"Wendy?"

"Wendy." He confirmed. "You have to stop being such a god damn drama queen and kiss Kyle's ass so I can have Wendy as my bitch."

Stan glowered at the choice of words. "Wendy isn't anyone's bitch, you fat piece of shit. She would have you bringing her the world at the snap of her fingers."

"That's not the point." Cartman neither denied or protested. "Stan, I never gave a shit about anyone before."

"I know." He pointed out seriously.

Cartman's eyes narrowed, but he managed to keep his anger in check. "But I give a shit about Wendy." He turned, walking up and back the short length of the porch. "She makes me feel… different. I've got this queasiness in my stomach."

"Gas."

Cartman paused with a death glare. "No, not gas!" His expression softened considerably, although his defenses were now on call. "I'm crazy about her; Her voice, her hair, her smile, her touch just makes me…" He paused on a sigh, looking almost ashamed as he finished. "She makes me want to be a better person."

"You're serious." Stan's statement rung in surprise.

"You're God damn right, I'm serious!" He bellowed. "You've got to help me!"

Stan shoved his chubby friends hand off his shoulder. "You ruined my life, Cartman! I'm not helping you do anything!"

Cartman's eyes narrowed to threatening brown slits. "You're helping me, Stan. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way." He pulled a pair of green boxers out of his coat, holding them up for inspection.

Stan stared on in confusion, his eyes widening slowly in shock. "What the hell are you doing with Kyle's boxers, you sick bastard?"

He shrugged, a smile playing about his lips. "I thought they'd go superbly with the shirt you never gave back."

"Who the hell told you about that?" Stan demanded as he tried to grab the shorts away, but Cartman was quick to pull back.

"Call it intuition, psychic bullshit, or perhaps a little birdie told me. I don't think that's the issue right now, is it?"

"What is the issue?" Stan hissed defensively.

"That I was right. You're in love with Kyle."

Stan paled considerably. "You're not going to start that crap again, are you?"

"Why not? It's the truth." Cartman chided. "You see, Stan, the way I see it we can help each other get what we want. I want the hippie, you want the Jew."

"I am not gay!"

"But you love Kyle." Cartman negotiated.

Stan shook his head, but he couldn't shake away the fear evident in his eyes, his posture and his voice. "I don't love him. Not that way."

Cartman's evil smirk widened and he tossed the boxers to Stan, who instinctively caught them immediately stuffed them into his pants. He didn't want to expose them to the public and also wanted to prevent what would be a very awkward conversation with his parents as to why he was carrying around his friends' unmentionables.

"I bet that's making you pretty hot."

Stan's hatred doubled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Come on. Kyle's boxers down your pants? That's some hot kink right there. I know I'd have a boner if Wendy's panties were down my pants."

Stan shook his head in disbelief, though suddenly very aware of the piece of clothing bunched against his thigh. "You are so fucked up."

"Just admit that you want to hump Kyle."

"No!"

"Okay, Stan, I gave you two chances. Since you wont help me like a good citizen, we're going to have to resort in some old fashioned blackmailing."

"Nice try, fatso, but you don't have anything on me."

"Oh no?" His voice was wickedly unsettling. "What's Kyle gonna think when he finds out you've been crotch crunching his underwear?"

Stan matched the challenge with confidence. "And how's he going to know?"

"I thought you'd never ask." With those words he flashed another of his photographic skills. This one displayed Stan asleep in bed, Kyle's green boxers sticking half-way out his pants, and his shirt tight in Stan's grip.

His deep blue eyes widened in mortification, but he was too shocked to move as Cartman tucked it safely away again.

"You really should start sleeping with your window locked." He advised. "So you see, Stan, you are going to help me. All you have to do is kiss and make nice with Kyle. Now that doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

"I can't make up with Kyle." Stan looked downward, his voice now soft in defeat.

Cartman shook his head. "Than you leave me no choice. I'm going to have to show this picture to everyone."

"Go ahead and post it on a billboard for all I care!" Stan shouted at his retreating backside. "The only person that matters already fucking knows!"

Cartman froze in his tracks, his expression and voice now equally blank having retained this new information. "What?"

"Kyle knows." Stan's vision blurred with tears. "Everything you predicted came true, and Kyle found out. He snuck into my room last night and-" He broke off on a breath and sniffled before going on. "He's never going to want to talk to me again. I wish you could blackmail me into making everything better, but there's nothing I can do to help you, Cartman. It's over."

Cartman's jaw was slightly slack in disbelief. "No. No, there must be something we can do."

"I'm sorry." Stan closed the door to the outside world, leaving Cartman in his tracks.

"But, that means…. I lost the bet." He spoke to himself. "I can't lose the bet. That means Wendy wont go out with me. It means I'm just another selfish jerk she doesn't want to talk to."

It didn't happen very often. Mostly because he really was a selfish jerk that didn't care much about anyone. But he wasn't lying when he confessed his feelings for Wendy. She was the one thing Eric Cartman wanted and would never be able to buy. Maybe Kenny was the psychic after all. It was him that predicted his large friend would die alone and miserable. Without Wendy, he really would. This reality crashing all around him, he felt his heart break for the very first time.

He covered his face with his hands, and there in the Marsh's front yard, Eric Cartman began to cry, helplessly and desperately. He never heard the footsteps approaching cautiously, or the voice that called his name. He didn't know she was there at all until she place a hand on his arm. The sensation made him jump back and quickly wipe the tears.

"W-Wendy," He stammered, trying to get control of his emotional voice. "I thought I smelled hippie." He sniffed dramatically and wiped at his nose. "I'm allergic to ho's."

Wendy smiled warmly at him, placing a hand to his cheek and using her thumb to wipe away a droplet that called his bluff. "I heard what you said to Stan. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I was on my way to see him and decided not to interrupt."

"You win." He mumbled.

"What?"

"You won the fucking bet!" He hollered, turning his back to her. "So get out of here, you god damn hippie! You don't need to suck up to me anymore!"

She frowned at his anger, but didn't allow it to put her off. Instead, she stepped in front of him again. "You know what? Screw the bet. I have a confession to make."

Cartman sighed agitatedly and rolled his eyes, but she cut him off before he could pretest.

"No, shut up, and let me say this," She snapped, shocking him silent. "I was going to go out with you whether you won or not. Yes, I did want you to help Stan and Kyle, but I also wanted to know if you would actually try to do something good. And you did." She reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair back into his hat. "You tried to use blackmail to do it, but you still tried, and that means something to me."

Cartman blinked his wide, tear filled eyes. "You… you mean, you'll still go out with me?"

She answered with a smile. That goddamn smile that made his bones melt. He shuddered at the feel of her arms snaking around his neck, and allowed his eyes to flutter closed when her lips pressed against his.

With renewed encouragement, she ditched playfulness for passion and let her tongue flirt slow and deep with his. She basked in the tingles that flooded her stomach, pulling away only when oxygen was absolutely necessary.

"You can have as many of those as you want."

Cartman's smile was now completely restored as she leaned in for another quick peck.

"Sweeeet."


Butters had always liked the Marsh family. Sharon was especially nice, in his humble opinion, and was relived when she was the one to answer the door for him. He didn't think Stan would be particularly pleased to see him, and would have probably slammed the door in his face. But Sharon invited him in with a warm greeting and soothing smile, permitting him unauthorized entrance to Stan's room, saying he had been "gloomy" lately and she was glad someone had come to "lift his spirits".

Stan's door was closed when he approached, and it took a few moments of contemplating whether to knock or barge in before making a decision; He would knock, Stan would probably appreciate respected privacy.

"Go away." Came the immediate response when he put his plan into action.

Butters heart sank at Stan's harsh words. He didn't even sound like himself. The cold words were weary and half-hearted.

"Stan?" He asked, and slowly pushed the door open. "I-It's me, Butters."

"I know. I saw you coming." He was standing by his window, watching the weather unfold outside. There was a slow breeze that picked up every so often, and fluffy gray clouds floating by. It smelled like rain, but not a single drop had make its appearance.

Butters made his way into the room, stopping a mere three feet behind his dark-haired peer.

"Kenny loves this weather," Stan began in his broken voice.

Butters was both surprised Stan spoke and puzzled at the statement. It seemed so casual and somehow out of place, but he decided his best bet was to play it along. At least he was talking. "How come?"

Stan shrugged slightly and shook his head, his eyes roving up to inspect higher parts of the sky. "He says it reminds him of your eyes."

Butters blinked, analyzed the sentence a moment and then looked down at his fidgeting hands. Kenny made him nervous. In a good way or bad way, he wasn't sure. The low-class blonde came on really strong, flirting and caressing openly. Although, Butters could admit he did like Kenny's touch and attention. A whole lot "Gee, I-I didn't even know he talked about me."

"He started talking about you a lot," Stan remembered. "I didn't really get it at first." He reached out, slowly tracing a finger against the fogged window. "He really likes you."

"Oh. But, I like you." Butters broke out, daring to take another step forward.

Stan turned from the window, his expression set in hard lines. "Look, Butters. You're a great friend. I care about you a lot, and I want you to be happy."

A smile curved Butters' mouth, only to fall again at Stan's next words.

"But that's not going to be with me. God, Butters, a month ago you were eyeing Wendy's… chest. You were straight."

"Well, so were you." Butters pointed out, rather harshly.

Stan pursed his lips in irritation. "I still am."

"Nuh uh. Eric says that you're in love with Kyle," He explained, casting glances at the photographs of the said boy and Stan in various places of the room. "Heck, I don't wanna make you mad or- or nothin', but I sorta believe him."

Stan simply shook his hand in the air as if to wave it all away. "That has nothing to do with this. The point is that I like you as a friend, and I want to keep you as a friend. That's all. No kisses, no holding hands, none of that. You're going to find somebody you're crazy about who's crazy about you. But, it's not going to be me."

His eyes were transfixed on the aforementioned pictures, and he nodded lightly to himself, as if only now understanding his love in its entirety. He smiled softly when he drew his attention back to Butters. "Are we cool?"

Butters returned the smile, happy he still had his friend although it felt like his chest was caving in. "Sure. We're cool." He dove in for a hug, startling the object of his affection for only a moment. His smile widened when he felt Stan's reluctant arms encircle him.

"Stan?"

"Yeah, Butters?"

He pulled out of the hug, instantly trading for some habitual knuckle clanking. "Well, I-I was just wondering," He gnawed his lower lip. "What else does Kenny say about me?"

As if on cue, the door swung open, followed by Kenny walking in casually.

"Hey, stranger. Long time no see." His words were directed toward Stan, but he wink suggestively at Butters, who smiled at him and began rubbing his knuckles together shyly.

"Don't you know how to knock?" Stan spat.

Kenny had already made his way to Butters side and was idly rubbing his shoulder. "No. Mama didn't learn me no manners." He slid his arm around Butters waist from behind and the other over his shoulder and down his chest, pulling the slightly taller boy back against his front half in a possessive hold. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything." He shot an accusing look at Stan, who in turn lifted his hands in defense.

"Dude, we were only talking."

Kenny squeezed his obsession in a hug from behind, drawing a large, triangular smile from the giddy preteen. "Kyle has something to say to you." He told Stan, moving on to the matter at hand. He looked to the empty doorway, then did a double take before rolling his eyes. "Hey, Casanova, get your ass in here!"

Kyle slowly peeked into the room, his eyes immediately seeking and finding Stan's. His heart rate increased, only to sink to his stomach when Stan's expression remained blank and turned his back to face the window.

Ever since Stan had gotten sick and disappeared for over a week, all Kyle wanted was to be near him again. Being without Stan was like being incomplete. Sure, there were lots of times they didn't see each other for a few days because of family trips and things, but that was different. He knew Stan was there when he needed him, he knew the separation was only temporary, that they were still friends. Now, he didn't even feel welcome in the room he was in almost as often as his own.

He looked to Kenny for guidance, completely over-looking the fact that his arms were still draped around Butters as if he were a coat and Butters were the coat rack. Kyle obeyed the living jacket's hand motion to enter the room and stood lingering between Stan and the doorway. He rubbed his arm nervously, eyes focused on the back of Stan's head. It made Kenny chuckle at how uncharacteristically shy he was being.

"We'll leave you two alone," He pronounced, releasing Butters from his hold and opting to take his hand and guide him away from the scene.

"Well, I-I'll see ya later then, Stan." Butters voiced as he was pulled through the door with Kenny.

The quiet click of the closing door was loud in comparison to the thick silence that followed. Neither of the two remaining were able to see the other's expression, making the situation even more uncomfortable. Though neither had much patience, Kyle fell short on his ability to bottle up his emotions the way Stan could, and -unable to swallow the tension any longer- was the first to crack. He took a step closer and tightened his fists at his sides.

"I know you hate me right now,"

Exactly the opposite. Stan thought, though he kept his mouth shut and his back to his former best friend. He wasn't about to make a bad deal worse. If Kyle wanted to call him sick, wrong, fucked-up, whatever, then he could do it without the extra bonus of seeing the tears he already felt coming on.

"But I can't just piss off like you want me to." Kyle continued onward. "I know you saw me here last night, and I'm…. sorry if that made things worse. I had to know what was going on with you, Stan. I care about you whether or not we're friends anymore." His voice saddened. "And whether or not you care about me anymore. They say not to give up on the people you love. So, I didn't. I couldn't stay in the dark. I needed a reason why you can't stand being near me."

Stan closed his eyes as slow tears began to leak out. His fingers curled into the hardness of the windowsill as he tried to brace himself for whatever was about to come. If he expected the worse, he couldn't be disappointed, even though he was positive he was about to be crushed.

"I know why you're avoiding me. It's stupid, dude. I don't want to stop being friends just because…. Because you… you…"

Stan grew hot in embarrassment, remembering the expression on Kyle's face the previous night, and the mortification he had felt after Kyle fled the room and he realized he was harder than hell.

Kyle pressed his hands to his eyes, his own memories flooding him full force. He felt tingles beginning to form deep in his stomach at the remembrance of being pressed so intimately against his friend, and silently cursed his body for betraying him a second time. He let his hands fall away from his face before speaking again.

"You can't help how you feel, alright?" He tried a different approach. "I understand that and I'm not going to hold it against you. It's okay, Stan. I don't hate you for it and I don't think any less of you." Silence greeted him, increasing his determination.

"Stan?" He asked, grabbing the said boys shoulder and forcefully turning him around. His lips parted in surprise at the steady flow of tears forcing themselves through Stan's saddened eyes. Kyle's heart ached at the sight. Without another thought or any conscious decision on his part, he folded Stan in his arms and cradled him close.

Stan remained limp in the embrace, his arms hanging lifeless at his side as he allowed Kyle to crush him against his body. He began to quake violently, the tears now building up to heartbreaking sobs.

"It's alright, Stan." Kyle soothed, rubbing circles into his back with his palm.

"I'm sorry, Kyle."

The sorrowful words twisted through Kyle's heart like a knife. He tightened his arms to bring Stan closer. But he couldn't get him close enough. "For what?"

"Everything," He choked out, not managing anything more.

Kyle took a moment to close his eyes, allowing the feeling of relief to flood him. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You freaked out, dude, I understand."

"I don't w-want to be g-gay." He stammered through tears.

Kyle laughed sadly, holding back his own water works. "You're not gay, you're just… genderly tolerant." He smiled at remembering Kenny's words.

Stan's crying began to calm, settling into hiccupy sniffles. "I-I'm what?"

"Genderly tolerant," Kyle repeated. "Kenny's words, not mine."

Stan allowed this new phrase sink in, then laughed through the few lingering tears. Kyle knew. Kyle knew his secret and here he was, holding tight without indication of breaking away any time soon. Stan's arms regained life, lifting to return his friends embrace.

Kyle sighed in relief at the gesture, his train of vision first looking heavenward then landing on the window. His breath caught at the sight of Stan's finger marks on the fogged glass;

K + S

"My Stan." Kyle whispered, tightening his arms around his once-again best friend and giving in to the urge of nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck.

"What are we going to do?" Stan's voice cut through the silence after a few moments.

Kyle pulled back, though keeping a firm grasp on his shoulders. "About-"

"Us." Stan finished for him. "It doesn't bother you that… that…"

"That my voice gives you a boner?" Kyle completed the sentence with a teasing smirk. He shook his head in answer, snickering at Stan's obvious embarrassment.

"Dude, it's not funny!" Stan snapped, taking a generous step back.

"Yes, it is." Kyle corrected through his amusement. "No wonder you've been wearing your book as a lap decoration during English." He clutched his hand to his stomach, doubling over as his laughter grew to uncontrollable levels. "And Kenny… Kenny drew a picture-"

Stan's eyebrows knit in anger as he waited for Kyle's attack to subside enough to speak again.

"He drew a picture of me talking to you, and you have your hands over your pants with a scared ass expression on your face!"

Stan moaned in torment and hid his face in his hand.

"Hey," Kyle pulled Stan's hand down, speaking through his last trail of mirth. "If it makes you feel any better, I kind of… like it."

Hope flooded Stan's soul, filling his eyes with a brightness. "Whoa, really?"

Kyle squeezed Stan's hand in his and nodded. "It might just be a phase we're going through. That happens, you know? But whatever it is, we'll get through it together. Hell, we're only in the sixth grade. We have plenty of time to figure out who we want to bone. If it turns out to be each other, then… Kenny's going to have to carry a rag with him to keep the drool off his chin, because he practically salivates now whenever we so much as touch each other. Can you imagine if he had to watch us make-out in the school halls every day?"

The possibility lighten Stan's heart further. He managed a smile and finally a small laugh before a thump and crash exploded through the room, drawing their attention to the closet. The door had swung open, revealing a very bemused-haired and well kissed looking Butters, sitting on the floor in the middle of the small area designed for hanging clothes.

"Butters?" Stan questioned

"Oh, uh… Hey- Hey'a fella's." Butters waved nervously.

Three pairs of eyes landed on Kenny, who had tumbled out when the door burst open and now lay flat on his back, staring up at his friends through half-lidded eyes.

"So you couldn't even make it to your own house." Kyle accused.

"What is it with you and closets, anyway?" Stan wondered.

Kenny let a laugh be his answer. A laugh that clearly said, "You have no idea what you're missing" as he rose to a sitting position and crawled back to Butters side. His lips meshed against the more innocent blonde as he reached up and closed them back into the darkness of the closet.

"Ah-aww!" Stan whined, squeezing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dude, that's my closet."

"Yeah, but Kenny really loves closets, and he really loves Butters." Kyle grinned and nudged his grossed-out friend in the side. "Maybe we can try that later," He suggested before heading toward the exiting door. "Come on, lets go make faces at old people."

A series of shivers raced through Stan's body at the thought of locking himself in a closet with Kyle. He then smiled, adopting Kenny's behavior by allowing himself a glance at his friends ass as he followed him out of the room.


-BratChild3 (Lisha)