Stan

"Ah! Fuck fuck fuck fuck~"

"Are you done moving yet?" Sucking in a breath, Stan hugged his knees tighter and allowed Kyle to finish stretching his current band-aid over the bloody stripe he'd managed to incur from the sharp lip of Tweek's frying pan. The antibacterial ointment stung, probably because it was the old tube he'd dug up from the back of the medicine cabinet. Even so, he hadn't screamed yet so he felt like he was doing just fine. Biting his hand, Stan hissed as Kyle dabbed more of the greasy stuff over his injury before putting another flower-covered bandaid over it.

"You're making this take way longer than it needs to," Kyle puffed out, sitting back for a moment, giving Stan a moment to breathe. Though he sounded irritated, Stan knew better than to assume he was. He knew the redhead well enough to know when he was worried and trying not to act it. For that, he was grateful. Bad enough that he'd lost the fight in the first place, he didn't also need Kyle mother-henning him unnecessarily.

"Dude, do you want to trade places?" Stan asked, twisting his head around to see his friend, who was frowning. The boy's emerald eyes were fixed on his back, as though he were trying to scare the abrasion into healing with just his glare alone. Well, if anyone could do it, Stan guessed that it would be Kyle. "This seriously sucks, you try and sit still through something like this."

Rolling his eyes, even though his frown deepened, Kyle muttered, "Well you could at least pretend not to make it such a big deal." Despite his disgruntled words, the boy was gentle as he went back to cleaning Stan's injury. The reason they were using the burny cream in the first place was because Kyle insisted that he didn't know where Tweek's club had been and if you got sick from an infection, that would be really inconvenient. In the end, Stan supposed he didn't mind. It gave him an excuse to have Kyle over, even though he really didn't need one.

"It's not a big deal," Stan insisted, digging a hand under the helmet he had yet to take off so he could run fingers through his hair. "It just fucking hurts dude." He could practically hear Kyle roll his eyes again, but he was distracted when another dollop of ointment was smoothed over his open cut and another band-aid was stretched over it.

"I didn't realize Tweek hit that hard," Kyle muttered, his tone rueful. Stan agreed, he looked like he'd been beaten up, what with all the black and blue marks covering him. The one on his back just happened to be the worst of it, but his ribs looked like they'd been kicked by a horse and he was pretty sure his knees were going to hurt for days to come. The most he could really say was that he'd come out of it alive. "I mean, he's Tweek."

"That shouldn't have been such a one-sided fight," Stan agreed, looking at the back of his hand at his knuckles, which were bruised and even a little bloody. They creaked as he gently straightened them, sending little jolts of pain through his hand and up his wrist. He was pretty sure he heard Kyle wince. "I'm telling you, Kyle, he was a fucking demon. I honestly thought he was going to kill me or something."

Stan could hear the way Kyle's teeth ground together, proving his suspicion that the boy was upset. Furrowing his brow, Stan looked at the duvet cover on his bed without really seeing it as he tried to gauge how out of sorts the redhead behind him was and why. Still worried about me? Feeling the need to distract him, the raven-haired boy quickly continued, "Speaking of weird, Craig was out of it as well. I mean, I know what the game stats are just as well as you do, but he should have done better. It was like he was letting me kick the shit out of him."

Eyes traveling to his bedside table, then to his closed door, Stan added, "I dunno dude, maybe it was just me but stuff was all over the place today. I'm not sure if any of it made sense." As Kyle's fingers pressed another Band-Aid over Stan's skin, the boy bit his lip to hold back his hiss of pain. He wasn't sure how much longer this was going to go on, but at some point, Kyle was either going to run out of skin or run out of Band-Aids.

"That second fight was bullshit," Kyle muttered darkly, sounding more upset with himself than with Stan or even Tweek. "I never should have let myself be convinced by Tweek, you shouldn't have fought someone else." Rotating his head, worriedly looking over at his super best friend, Stan wasn't exactly surprised to find an angry and miserable expression on Kyle's face.

The boy still hadn't changed out of his game costume. His red and gold robe was puddled around him as he sat on the bed and his crown/hat combination was tilted over, like he didn't care enough to straighten it. When his brown eyes met Kyle's green ones, Stan felt something lodge in his throat. He hated to see the boy this upset, it always made him feel stupidly helpless, like he should be able to keep the other boy from ever having to be distressed and he'd somehow failed.

"Dude, there was no way you could have known that Tweek was going to act like that," Stan insisted, clearing his throat awkwardly as he pulled his tunic back down over his back and moved to face Kyle. "Besides, they did sort of have a point, I was supposed to fight Tweek originally and instead I fought Craig, who was way weaker."

"No, they didn't have a point," Kyle spat, looking away from Stan so he could roughly jam the cap back on the antibacterial ointment like he was mad at it. "Craig threw himself in front of Tweek, Craig fought you, Craig lost. I shouldn't have let you fight Tweek, it was stupid of me." Shoving the two remaining Band-Aids back into their original box, Kyle continued, "I got cocky and I thought I could one-up that fatass and you paid the price."

Opening his mouth to speak, Stan was cut off by his friend suddenly pushing off of his bed with the medical supplies while he said, in a louder voice, "He's such a smug bastard-" He threw Stan's door open. "About literally everything-" There was a similar crash as Kyle presumably treated the bathroom door the same way. "That whenever I see him, I just want to wipe that smirk off his face!" An alarming series of crashes followed by Kyle's shout of, "Shit!" pushed Stan off of his bed so he could find his friend.

Somehow, in the process of putting the medical supplies away, Kyle had managed to trip over his own robes and push half of the things out of the cabinet as he tried and failed to keep his balance. The result was a very angry redhead tangled up on the floor amid bottles of cream and cases of pills. Though it probably should have been comical, Stan could only furrow his brows in worry as he knelt next to Kyle, who simply glared at the ceiling. "It's all bullshit."

"Dude, we've been over this," Stan said with a sigh, fetching Kyle's Trapper's hat and crown from where it had fallen. As he messed with the familiar green material, the boy kept talking, his voice as steady as he could make it. "It's not all bullshit. Of course Cartman's an asshole, he's always been an asshole. I know you hate it, of course you want to get one over on him. Hell, I want to get one over on him." Looking up from Kyle's hat at the boy himself, Stan found him glaring at his knees as he ran his fingers through his wild ginger hair.

"When does this game even end Stan?" Kyle demanded, his tone mutinous. "Are we just going to keep this up forever? When does Cartman take off that hat and Kenny put down the bow and I lose the stupid crown and we all just go back to being friends?" Pushing himself to his feet, even though he was limping awkwardly, Kyle shouted after him, "Why'd I even agree to this bullshit in the first place?"

Watching the boy vanish, Stan quickly got to his feet and left the bathroom a mess in favor of following Kyle. "You agreed because it's fun," Stan reminded his friend, walking back into his room to find Kyle pacing back and forth at the end of his bed. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, like he wanted to hit something but wasn't sure what to hit. "Dude, you're an Elven King. There are people in our grade who do all sorts of stupid things, just cause you tell them to. Who doesn't want to do that?"

"Me!" Kyle burst out, turning those blazing emerald eyes on Stan. "I'm not like Cartman, I don't want that kind of power!" He's been fine with it up until now, what suddenly changed? When Stan only tilted his head slightly in worried confusion, Kyle let out a loud scoff and threw his hands in the air. "Then only reason I agreed to be King or High Jew Elf or whatever is because Cartman said that's what I was going to be. I didn't choose anything!"

Concern bubbling in his gut, Stan tightened his fingers around the Trapper's hat that still hung from one of his hands. "Okay, so it wasn't your choice, so what?" the raven-haired boy said stubbornly, shifting his weight. "It's all just a game Kyle, it's not like we're real soldiers killing each other."

"But when does it stop being a game?" Kyle demanded, facing the wall as he stood there, stock still. Wanting to reach for the boy, simply to calm him down, yet unsure if it would be welcome, Stan awkwardly stood his ground, staring at the redhead. "When do people put down their weapons and say that Cartman and I are being unreasonable? Where's the line and how is anyone supposed to know when it's being crossed when everyone's so eager to bleed and die for an imaginary faction in a make-believe game?"

Getting frustrated an unable to figure out why, Stan waved the hand that held Kyle's crow around as he exclaimed, "No one is dying! We're just playing Kyle, we're allowed to have fun, remember? If people want to take it seriously then let them! I'm taking it seriously, I want to win this thing, don't you want to win as well?"

"We already have the stick!" Kyle shot back, whirling around, gesturing widely with his hands as he did so. "We're already better than Cartman. He might have managed to stop us from getting more territory this time but that's because he was cheating. If I waved my hand at random at a piece of South Park, there would be forty boys at least who would leap up and take that territory. What more is there to win Stan?" Breathing heavily, the boy let his hands fall to his sides gradually. "When does the game end?"

Feeling his insides do that unpleasant thing they did when Kyle looked at him with those sad, frustrated eyes, Stan heaved in a breath of his own before shrugging. "I dunno," he admitted because there was no point in pretending like he understood what Cartman's end goal was. "I guess when we get bored of it."

Swallowing hard, looking over at Stan almost like he wanted to start yelling again, Kyle managed to ask, "When does it get to be a game again, Stan? When?" The redhead's voice was so thick, Stan wondered if Kyle was going to cry, even though Kyle didn't cry. Realizing the boy was looking at the nasty bruise on the side of his face, Stan's chest compressed as the air in his lungs left him in a whoosh. Oh… I get it now.

Sighing slightly as understanding started to filter through the cracks in his mind, Stan tossed Kyle's crown onto his desk before walking over to the slightly shorter boy. Standing in front of him, the bruised boy lifted his chin and said very clearly, "Kyle, I'm alright, okay. Tweek might've put me through the wringer, but I'm fine dude."

Face crumpling in dismayed defeat, Kyle crossed his arms and mumbled, "Bullshit, look at you. I shouldn't have let you fight him at all, this is my fault. I was just being stupid because I wanted to show Cartman that the Elves were better than the Humans. It's not even real and I still let you get beat up over it." Feeling horrible in the face of Kyle's upset frustration, Stan opened his mouth to say something before giving up and simply wrapping an arm around his super best friend, pulling the boy into his shoulder.

He'd done similar for years, as long as they'd been friends as far as Stan was concerned. Kyle had always had this habit of getting unbelievably worked up over seemingly inconsequential things and though he didn't know why it happened, Stan had learned through trial and error that sometimes, his presence was enough to calm the boy down. It didn't exactly make much sense, but he'd accepted it a long time ago and honestly, he found it equally calming to be able to reign in Kyle's anger and frustration put it to rest.

As Kyle's curly hair brushed up against his neck, Stan tried to take deep, calming breaths in an attempt to soothe the other boy. Like he'd taken the starch out of Kyle's spine, the boy relaxed against Stan, winding fingers in the front of the raven-haired boy's tunic as if he needed something to keep himself steady. Lifting his free hand, Stan allowed himself to run his fingers through Kyle's wild hair, even though usually he considered the boy's hair to be off-limits. Tamed as he already was, this action made Kyle practically melt against him as the strain of the day drained from him.

Looking through the wild strands of Kyle's hair at his wall, Stan quietly murmured, "I took it way more serious than I should have, you're right, we're forgetting where the lines are. I chose to fight today Kyle. You originally wanted to send Chris in but I insisted you send me. It's not even a little bit your fault dude." As he untangled the strands of Kyle's bright red hair, Stan felt the boy let out a soft breath that crawled over his neck and sent weird chills down his spine.

"You stepped in because he'd already fought," Kyle muttered, his voice muffled by Stan's shoulder, which he still hadn't moved away from. "That was you being a decent human being and seeing what I should have seen first." At that self-deprecating tone, Stan couldn't help but hold Kyle all the more firmly.

Feeling some of his own shame work its way over his face, Stan cleared his throat and admitted, "Nah, I just wanted to impress you and stuff." It was true, Stan had been feeling almost pathetically useless when he'd been denied the fight for Kenny's territory that he'd been promised earlier. It had only turned to a stupid feeling of jealousy and inferiority when Chris Donnelly, who'd already managed to fight Tweek and Craig's battalion, had been picked by Kyle to represent the Elves in the gladiator match. Though he felt ashamed of it now, Stan knew that he'd been desperate to remind Kyle that he was the redhead's right-hand man and not Chris.

Abruptly letting out a weird laugh that left his chest feeling warm, Kyle drew back from Stan and looked at him with those big, emerald eyes that were blessedly free of the anger and frustration from earlier. "You looked pretty badass fighting Craig," Kyle admitted, a smile stretching those freckled cheeks. "Your sword is a whole lot bigger than most everyone else's and I don't care that it's just wooden, you're really good with that sword of yours."

Even though he knew he shouldn't, Stan couldn't help but swell with repressed laughter. As Kyle looked at him in confusion, Stan snickered, quickly putting a hand over his mouth to hide his wide grin. Mouth opening slightly as he tried to work out why Stan was laughing, Kyle's eyes suddenly widened and he turned a bright cherry red. "Dude!" he yelped, which only made Stan laugh harder.

"What Kyle," Stan asked, clutching his stomach as his ribs protested his wheezing laughter. "Anything else you want to say about my –pfft- sword?" Dodging the slap that the red-faced Kyle attempted to land on him, Stan stumbled backwards and landed against his bed where he pulled his knees to his chest, curled up and laughed until he was pretty sure he was crying.

Poor Kyle could do nothing but sputter and yell, "YOU FILTHY BASTARD!" over and over again. Of course, that only encouraged Stan's mirth, which was honestly starting to make his stomach hurt. "I fucking hate you sometimes!" the redhead blustered, crossing his arms and flopping to the ground beside Stan's bed so he could lean against it and pout. Swallowing the snickering that threatened to overwhelm him again, Stan wiped at the tears in the corners of his eyes with the back of his sleeve before taking a deep breath and grinning again.

"Come on, you were kind of asking for that one," Stan said once he'd finally gotten his vocal chords back under control. Damn, I've missed being able to have fun with Kyle, it feels like everything is so serious now. When Kyle kept sulking, Stan stretched out over his bed and leaned over the side so he could look down at Kyle's head. Taking another long breath, Stan said, in a more serious voice, "Thanks though dude, you make a pretty epic High Elf."

Ducking his head slightly, revealing the flush on the nape of his neck that revealed Stan had succeeded in flustering him slightly, Kyle muttered, "Yeah well, it's not that hard." Chuckling at the boy's embarrassment, Stan propped his head up on his arm and listened as Kyle continued, "I mean if Cartman can lead the Humans then it's not rocket science."

Thinking about the boy, Stan commented, "Everyone knows that it's really Kenny who's doing everything. Cartman's just good at pretending to be in charge." As he talked, he stared down at Kyle's curly hair and wondered, as he so often did, why the boy was so weird about not letting anyone see it. He thought it was magnificent, but he wasn't about to argue with the redhead about something that he had no control over.

"I still don't know what Kenny's angle is," Kyle muttered, messing with his robes as he thought. "I mean, he gives us the Stick, then he prevents us from fighting a war that would have definitely ended with us losing territory. What's his deal? Who's he really fighting for?"

"Don't ask me," Stan muttered, letting his hand dangle over the edge of the bed so he could reach down and tug at the flyaway pieces of red hair that stuck up from Kyle's mass of curls. "I mean, he's undermining Cartman, but at the same time he seems to really support Butters. And then there's the whole thing with Craig and Tweek and I don't even know what that's all about. He's acting really weird to me."

Chuckling, Kyle let his head fall back so he could stare up at Stan with big, slightly glazed eyes. His lids were half-lowered and he looked more relaxed than he'd seemed all week. "Who even knows. Does Kenny even know what he's doing?" Wrapping one of his fingers in one of Kyle's tight curls, Stan managed to provoke a soft sigh from the boy.

"Probably not." Eyes growing unfocused, Stan blew out a breath through the corners of his mouth before asking, "What do you think is up with Tweek and Craig, man? Kenny totally planned that whole gladiator match because of them, I'd bet on it. So what's so interesting about them?"

"You know Kenny loves to stir things up," Kyle mumbled, scrunching up his face before smoothing it out. "But you're right, there's something up with them." After another moment of comfortable silence, Kyle finished, "I think they're just really good friends. Kind of like us, just weird."

Nodding, letting his hand hang limply so he could simply brush it through Kyle's soft hair, Stan said, "We don't act like them though dude, they act like they're dating or something. That's a little weird." Kyle nodded tiredly in agreement under his fingers.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Kyle muttered. "But that still doesn't explain Kenny."

As the silence stretched between them once more, both Stan and Kyle puzzling over the matter of Kenny in their sleep-addled brains to the best of their ability, Stan finally shook himself awake and said, "Do you want to play Call of Duty or something?"

Eyes popping open, Kyle smiled tiredly and admitted, "You know what, yeah, I would like to."

And even though he was sore and tired, the sight of Kyle's smile made Stan feel a million times better.