A/N: hey guys its been a while hahaha how are ya !

not a mature fic just silly teenage parties : approx 2000 words

It was far later than either of them had planned on staying when they had first decided to go to the party. They'd made a pact at the start of the evening, to stay until midnight, long before the bars closed down, but long enough to satisfy their friend. Just for Kenny's sake, it was his birthday after all, and he'd chosen the place. Even though the club was sketchy and dirty, no one wanted to tell the blond "no" on his birthday. So they went to the dingiest bar in town without much complaint for their close friend- who they'd lost to the crowd five minutes into the night.

Kyle decided- fuck it. Screw Kenny, he'd have a good night without the person they'd come to celebrate with. Whether Kenny was there or not, it didn't make much of a difference at that point. It didn't matter- Kyle was already in the mindset to get drunk off his ass anyways. Eric had challenged him to round of shots straight off the bat, and of course couldn't turn him down. Seven little cups later, both boys were dizzy and they decided to call it off- knowing they'd both claim they'd won by the time they'd sobered up. Which wouldn't be until way, way later...

Stan was nervous. He abused alcohol often, but he hadn't drank to actually get drunk for fun in a while. But even though he had started off slow, it didn't take long for the boy to throw back bottle after bottle, shot after shot, glass after glass. He could handle it. He was proud of himself.

Kenny came back around twelve- and Kyle and Stan had forgotten all about their plan to leave at a decent hour. The birthday kid had lost his jacket and was talking about the present his brother had given him- no one would remember by morning, and would have to ask what it was again.

Bebe was missing now. So was Wendy Testaburger. Everyone knew but no one said it out loud, the consequences of spreading rumors would be disastrous- what with Wendy's boxing career and Bebe's social influence...

Butters almost left the party after he'd realized "shit I promised my mom I'd help her clean out the garage tomorrow morning -" and had headed out to sleep off the alcohol. Kenny really, really didn't want him to go, and had gotten him to stay at the club only through sweet nothings whispered in his ear, and the fact that he didn't let the boy leave the other's side for the next hour.

Butters got a goodbye kiss when he finally managed to escape the party.

Eric and Kyle weren't fighting, rather than talking loudly at each other on the corner of the dance floor. It was only considered a fight after physical contact was involved, which happened ten minutes later, over an argument about who bought the better present. They were drunk, they were looking for a fight -

Eric got kicked out along with a few other kids for getting involved. Kyle just managed to fly under the radar.

Said redhead was touchy and needy when he was hammered. And it helped he was single and attractive. Anyone was willing to give him the attention he craved in his dunk state- unfortunately, Stan was wasn't paying attention- dragged away by Jimmy to play some group game.

Now it was nearing two in the morning, and Stan was tired meant and physically, wanting to find his counterpart and leave.

But by the time the tall boy had managed to get back to the main area, he realized said friend apparently was still quite into the mood of the evening: laughing, dancing, still drinking. Not to mention Kyle was draped all over some stranger and was obviously enjoying it.
Stan squinted. It wasn't a stranger, it was Clyde, and now the brunette had his hand up the back of Kyle's shirt and Kyle was leaning in to his touch and hands and lips-

Stan started crying, loud and obnoxious at the edge of the dance floor, barely even able to hear himself due to the loud music vibrating the entire establishment.

"Ky-Kyle..." he sobbed, wiping various fluids from his mouth, eyes, nose...

Somebody found him standing there, and loudly asked over the music what was wrong. Stan couldn't tell who it was through his wet daze.

"I hate Clyde, look- look at him," he whimpered to his unknown confidant, pointing weakly. "He's doing it o-on purpose, cause- I don't remember..."

"Go tell him to,stop, then, tiger. You're a big kid." It was Kenny, smiling kindly and wiping the salt from his friend's cheeks. "I don't want you sad on my b-irthday," he hiccuped. "What's'e doing, anyways?"

"He's gonna have sex with, with Kyle, look..." Stan whined, sniffing, looking back over to the couple again.

But Kyle wasn't with Clyde anymore- rather, he'd moved on to somebody else.

"Fuck. What... Why?"

"Kyle wav- wants to get laid tonight," Kenny said, let out a long exhale, leaning against his distraught friend. "Maybe more than once."

"No, that's not..!" Stan pouted, flaring a glare across the sea of people. "Tell him to stop."

"What, you don't want 'm to get lucky..?" The blond laughed, punching Stan in the arm- "It looks like he first need much luck, though, does it?"

"Shut up, McCormick," the tall boy growled, emotions flitting from one strong feeling to the next in a flash. He stopped, collected himself as much he could on his alcohol-logged state, and gave his friend an apologetic look. "Ah, sorry. Happy birthday."

"Thanks, big boy," Kenny snickered, pinching the other's cheek. "Whatcha gonna do about all that going on over there?" He gestured towards the general vicinity of where Kyle seemed to be getting the most tail.

Stan shrugged, pursuing his lips, watching silently.

Token wasn't having any of it, laughing and stepping aside for somebody else to take care of the enigmatic redhead- but not before lifting Kyle's chin and saying something awful close to his lips.

Stan was angry rather than upset now- sniffing and glaring across the club, though he wasn't sure who to glare at. The new boy- he couldn't tell who- or Kyle.

Stan turned to ask for advice, but Kenny was gone, disappeared into the crowd again.

So the dark haired boy decided it was time to leave. With Kyle.

Stan waded into the dance floor, refusing to be caught up with anybody else, making his way over to- it was Craig and Kyle now.

"Ky... It's time to go..."

No response, just loud music and movement.

"Ky-!" Stan put his hand to the small of his friend's back now, whispering in his ear- "Lets go..."

Kyle, still with a hand on a Craig's shoulder, leaned back into the newcomer and turned his head so they were awful close-

"Aw, five more minutes daddy..." He mocked, giggling-

Kyle opened his eyes, saw who it was, and seemed to sober up instantly for a moment.

"Stan, uh-"

"We should go home, Ky..."

The redhead had been taken in by the other boy in closer proximity, Craig whispering something in the redheads ear, smirking-

Stan was visibly upset, wrapping his hand firmer around his friend's waist in order to tug at him, urging him away from the other-

"I think we should go..."

Craig cut in, frowning as he readjusted his hold on Kyle.

"Stan, Jesus, you're such a mood killer-"

"Fuck off," was the simple response he got, snarled by a less-than-joking quarterback. Stan almost felt bad for saying it- but the alcohol was talking.

"What?" Kyle laughed again, leaving Craig to tug on his best friend's collar now, urging the taller boy to lean down. "You jealous?"

"Yes!" Stan pouted, mixed emotions confusing his instinct on whether to cry or to yell- instead he just curled his fingers into his friend's pant loops, making sure he had a proper grip before making his way back across the expanse of the sick floor, dragging Kyle behind him. To somewhere less crowded, less loud, less rowdy. Where he could figure out whether to cry or to yell.

"Stan- Stanley Marsh!" The redhead was outraged, stumbling back against the firm hold, but not wanting to rip his pants either. "What the fuck are you- you're going to rip them-!"

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are I swear to god-"

"I promise I won't!" The larger boy opened the door to exit the club, still dragging his friend behind him.

"Stanley Fucking Marsh, let go-" He finally did after being asked to, ashamedly stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking at the ground.

They were outside the building now, the music a dull thrum to go along with the steady bass vibrating the establishment. It was dark as well as vaguely cold, and Stan settled back against the cool brick wall.

He considered his job done- to separate Kyle from those who were shamelessly grinding on him. Now he just felt annoyed and embarrassed that he'd caused a scene.

"Staaan."

No answer.

"Staaanley, look at me." Kyle's hands were also in his pockets, head tilted forward as he glared at his counterpart. Slightly swaying under the heavy influence of alcohol, he subdued a wine as he tried again, "Look at me, don't make me ask again, stupid."

Said boy looked up, eyes wide like a kid, entirely innocent as if he hadn't just dragged the other by his pants out of the club.

Kyle laughed, light and airy in contrast to the abyss-like neighborhood that housed Kenny's choice club.

"You're just a big child..."

Stan was still upset, not sharing his friend's attitude, and kept frowning.

"What?"

"Why were you doing that?!"

"Huh?"

"You- y-ou were kissing Clyde. And the other one."

"I didn't kiss Clyde-"

"Well you kissed somebody, I-I saw." Stan was pouting again, and it was hard for Kyle to take him seriously. "Why were you doing that?"

The redhead rolled his eyes, as it was obvious.

"Well, I wanted to sleep with at least once of them-"

Stan was crying again, muffled sounds alerting the other that the bit was trying to stifle his sobs.

"What- what's wrong? Are you okay? Fuck, you drank way too much tonight-"

"You w-were grinding on everybody, tha-at was s-so mean, you're so mean..."

"What are you-? Calm down..."

"You didn't come look for me..! You didn't wanna..."

A sigh.

"Stanley..."

"I-if you wanna get laid, why didn't yo-u just ask me, Ky..? I- I woulda," Stan slurred, swooning slightly, obviously unaware of what he was implying. "Promise, I would've..."

Kyle flushed, more sober than his counterpart, and was actually able to process the words. He stepped forward, brushing his hand against the other's.

"Well, it wouldn't mean anything with them..." He said quietly, looking down to where their hands made contact, slipping their fingers together. "But it would mean everything with you."

"That's right. That's right, they don't mean anything with yyouuuu..."

"And I wanna do it with you but you're not ready. I know you're not, I wanna take it slow with you. For you. You're not ready..."

Stan was mumbling, leaving heavily against his friend, unable to understand a word the other said at this point.

"I'm always ready. I'm the captain. I'm the hero."

"Yeah, you're the hero..." Kyle smiled, knowing this oversized child was his responsibility for the remainder of the night. "I'm gonna get you home."

"Yeah I wanna go home, Ky, I wanna go home." Stan was talking overly loud now, and yawned obnoxiously, draping his bigger arms over the other's shoulders with clumsy ease. "Kyle, you're like, so good. You're the best. You're like my best best friend and I love you."

"Be quiet, silly..."

The smaller boy giggled, pulling Stan down to touch noses for a moment. Smirking and leaning forward quickly, Kyle tasted the sting of alcohol on the other's lips as he pressed forward into a chaste kiss.

"Kyle," Stan whined, pouting almost automatic after the other pulled away. "Why can't you kiss me when 'm not drunk?"

"Cause then you'd remember it, dumbass..."

"But I wanna renderer it. Remember it. Ky..."

"No sober kisses until you work up the nerve to tell me you want them," Kyle said straightforward, waving a finger in the other's face.

"Ok?"

"Ok..."

But Stan didn't look satisfied, pouting still with his eyes wide. Kyle couldn't help smiling.

"What?"

"One more? I-I won't remember anyways."

"Fine, just one more..."

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