I know it's late but here is the March story. This is just an excerpt for an idea I had because who doesn't like fake relationship au's. This is just the beginning of how this might go but I probably won't be taking this any further because I feel like this would have to be a proper full length fic and I don't have time to devote the attention I would want to, to it. And I honestly don't know where I would take this story. If enough people like it I'll consider picking it back up.
I tried to get it done earlier in the month. I had these two scenes in my head and I knew what I wanted them to be. I originally started with the end, which I liked, but when I went back to fill in the beginning, I hit a massive stage of writer's block, 'til about a few days ago. I knew what I wanted it to be but I just couldn't get the words out. When I had time to work on it, I would just blank. I think I spent a good four days just staring at nothing and willing the words to come out, filling in the sections where I could. The result was this, a beginning that I'm not too fond of, an end scene I did like, and a middle that I hope works. I will try to get another story out later this month so I can get back on track. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think.
Most days in midwinter were freezing and bitter, so much so that it was uncomfortable to even be outside at all. Today was one of the rare days where, despite the season, the weather was actually pleasant. Pete pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply. He was thankful for the good weather. He might be goth, and frequently spent his time behind the school with his friends, but he still got cold. Even if his goth exterior didn't let him show it.
Pete particularly liked being outside when everyone else was in the middle of class. Of course, his friends would catch up later, but Pete liked to try and snag a few extra moments to himself. It was good to be out in the quiet. He liked when things were still, almost peaceful.
"Son of a bitch!"
Or not. Pete rounded the corner of the school building to finding the source of the sudden, disruptive, screaming, which was now accompanied by a chorus of loud clashes and bangs.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Stan exclaimed as he repeatedly kick the dumpster located by the side entrance to the school. "God-fucking-dammit! Bitch fucking shit!" Stan screamed.
Pete should have walked away. This didn't concern him and he had no reason to get involved. He should have walked away. But, he always did have the natural propensity to make the worst possible decision.
Stan was panting as he tried to regain his composure when Pete spoke. "Whatever the dumpster did to you, cannot have been that bad." His tone was cool and even.
Stan jumped, startled as he just noticed Pete. "Jesus Christ, dude! Warn a guy before you sneak up on him." Stan's breathing was still harsh and his surprise at Pete's presence did nothing to quell his already racing heart.
"I mean I would've, but you seemed pretty wrapped up in your assault on the dumpster." Pete replied apathetically as his gaze trailed over the battered bin.
Stan followed Pete's gaze and stared helplessly at the undeserving object. He looked back at Pete feeling abashed at having had a witness to his meltdown. "Caught all that did you?" He asked, not really sure what else to say.
Pete moved over, all nonchalance, to lean against the support beam that was holding the awning up overhead. "Only from about 'Shit! Shit! Shit!'" He said before taking a long drag from his still lit cigarette.
Stan sighed with weariness. His shoulders slumped as if he carried the weight of the world on them and it was taking its toll. He moved to sit on the small set of steps in front of the building's entrance. "God," he groaned as he dragged his hands over his face. "I just- I'm so tired of all the shit, you know? The whole world is shit and I'm sick of looking at it." He spoke in the tone of someone who'd been alive in the world too long and had seen too much to even be bother with it anymore. He spoke with a tiredness that was too heavy for someone so young.
Pete watched him carefully as Stan looked up at him for a moment, then looked away in favor of staring at the empty space in front of him. Pete said nothing as Stan seemed to mull over his next words. He merely took a long drag from his cigarette and waited patiently for Stan to continue. He'd never been helpful with advice but he could lend an ear when he cared to. Though, why Pete even cared at all was a point he chose to ignore.
"I thought everything would get so much easier when I came out." Stan finally spoke after a prolonged silence. "Everything's always been shit but I thought things could only better. Things had to get better. But they didn't, they only got worse."
Pete tossed his head in a quick, fluid motion, effectively flipping the hair out of his face.
"God," Stan groaned dragging his hands over his face once more. "I know I'm being dramatic but I'm just sick of dealing with people. Honestly, I thought at worst I'd have to put up with was Cartman's bigoted, jeers. I mean that I can handle," he made a vague gesture with his hand as he spoke. "That's nothing new, but everyone else? They're painful."
"It can't be that bad." Pete spoke up for the first time. He took another long drag of his smoke and gave no further input. It seemed like Stan was only looking to blow off steam not any actual advice.
Stan watched as Pete exhaled and followed the cloud of smoke with his eyes as it floated up and dispersed into the chilly air. "No. I don't know." He sighed. He's been doing that a lot lately.
He moved to lean back on his elbows propping them up on the step behind him. He looked up at Pete as he spoke, for the first time since he'd started rambling. "You know, one of the last relationships I had with a girl was with Wendy. I don't even know why we kept coming back to each other, we were never good together. Now, there's these stupid rumors going around about how she so awful she turned me gay. Which, by the way, is ridiculous on so many levels. Especially since I'm still into girls, I just happen to like guys too. It wasn't like some great epiphany where 'Hey! Suddenly I'm gay now!' No, I just didn't know how to deal with it really. But now, I can't get her off my back. She hits on me any chance she gets, as if, us getting back together will somehow fix everything. I mean, it's not like I wanted this to happen to her, but what can I do really? It's absurd! God, and my parents. My dad is so awkward around me now he has absolutely no idea how to act. Everything that comes out of his mouth is something extremely inappropriate. I'm still the same person. He doesn't have to get weird about it. And my mom, does she help? No, she just insists it'll all pass. I swear if I hear, 'It's just a phase. He'll get over it.', one more time I am gonna go apeshit." Stan scoffed shaking his head in disbelief. "Seriously dude, how do you do it? No one gives you any shit for being openly gay. No one blinks twice."
"That's 'cause no one gives a shit what I do." Pete stated matter-of-factly.
Stan laughed "Actually, I think it's more because people are terrified to even look at you the wrong way. If they gave you any shit you'd probably stab them and they know it." He grinned.
Pete shrugged. "That's not an inaccurate statement. But I also don't care what their small minds think."
Snuffing out the butt of his cigarette, Pete moved to sit next to Stan on the steps. Stan shifted over to make more room as he sat. "You know what you need?" He asked with the attitude of someone who was about to impart some wisdom. "You need to get laid."
Stan chuckled. "Yeah, like I could even get a boyfriend in this town."
"I didn't say anything about a commitment." Pete smirked, but when he looked over at Stan he wasn't listening anymore.
Stan was staring into space, his eyes wide with a sudden epiphany. "You're right." He whispered.
Pete furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"
"You're right!" Stan said louder. He turned to look a Pete with a grin. "That's exactly what I need! Not the getting laid thing. A boyfriend."
He still wasn't following. "How exactly would that help?"
Stan was grinning like an absolute madman which did nothing to distill Pete's confusion. "If I get a boyfriend, Wendy would have to stop hitting on me all the time and it could help get my parents of my case."
"I'm not sure I follow your logic," Pete said skeptically. "But you just said so yourself, finding a boyfriend isn't exactly an easy task."
"That's true…" Stan trialed off and pursed his lips in thought. "Well you've dated around haven't you?" He asked.
Pete narrowed his eyes in a look that clear said Stan had better choose his next words carefully.
"I mean," Stan attempted to correct himself quickly. "You have experience dating guys, right? Had some relationships? You could help me find someone."
Pete brought his arms up to rest on the step behind him and leaned back. "Assuming I'd even help you," he began. "It's really slim pickings out there. I mean, I wouldn't exactly call what I've had relationships. Not a lot of openly gay people around."
There was a silence for a few moments. Stan pouted, bummed that Pete was poking holes in his plan. Pete spoke up again, "What about that McCormick kid?" He offered.
"Kenny? No way, Kenny's straight." Stan replied.
Pete gave Stan an incredulous look. "You're telling me Kenny McCormick doesn't swing both ways?"
Stan laughed. "Kenny is all about appreciating beautiful people, guys included, but when it comes right down to it, he's all about the girls. Got a real thing for boobs."
"That's a shame." Pete commented casually, earning a surprised expression from Stan. "Oh, what? Like you haven't noticed how hot that guy is?" He said accusingly.
Stan couldn't exactly say no and felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"Hmm…What about Tucker?" Pete continued.
Stan made a sour expression. "No way! Besides, Craig's…well I'm not sure what Craig is," Stan conceded after a moment's thought. "I'm pretty sure he's asexual. That guy doesn't find anything interesting." Pete scoffed disbelievingly prompting Stan's question. "What? You got some other idea?"
"That guy's definitely something but it's not asexual. Haven't you noticed the way he stares at the Tweak kid?" Pete asked.
Stan furrowed his brow. "They cleared that up though. Said it was a fake relationship the whole time."
"Trust me," Pete said. "It wasn't all pretend. Of course, he could be interested only in Tweak specifically, as far as his interest in guys goes."
"Whatever." Stan said quickly, not wanting to think about it any further. "Besides, he's not my type anyway."
"Really? I'm a sucker for the dark hair. Bonus points for blue eyes and tallness." Pete remarked offhandedly.
Stan felt his heart race for a moment.
"You know," Pete began, looking like he was working through a new thought. "You could always ask one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend. What about your red headed friend?"
"Who? Kyle?" Stan seemed to give this idea some thought before shaking his head. "No. I could never ask something like from him. I mean he'd probably say yes because he's my best friend but I wouldn't want to put him in that kind of position. He's really short tempered and I don't think he could handle Cartman's relentless torments. And I'm not sure anyone would really believe he's gay."
"The way you two hang around, they'd believe it." Pete remarked definitively.
"Hey!" Stan snapped offended then back tracked. "No, actually, you're probably right." Stan went silent again, thinking. "Maybe it would be better if I could get someone to pretend, but that seems just as difficult as finding an actual boyfriend. I would have-" Stan stopped suddenly as an idea struck him. "Ugh! I'm such an idiot!" He exclaimed. "Pete! You could do it!"
"What?" Pete asked in shock.
"Pete, pretend to be my boyfriend!" Stan insisted grabbing onto Pete's sleeve.
"Hold on, hold on!" Pete said trying to wrap his head around what Stan was suggesting. "Why on earth would I do that?" He huffed.
"Because you would be doing me a huge favor. Because I really, really need this. Because I would owe you big time for the rest of eternity." Stan pleaded. He was staring into Pete's eyes with the intense glimmer of his own blue orbs. It pierced him with and burning heat that creeped up and flushed under Pete's skin. He really hated when Stan looked at him like that.
"If I do this," Pete began, jumping to his feet suddenly, wanting to get out from under Stan's strong gaze. He turned on his heel to face Stan again. "If, if," he emphasized the word upon seeing Stan's suddenly hopeful expression. "There would be conditions. And these are nonnegotiable." Pete spoke in a tense, warning tone, but Stan remain attentive and undeterred.
"I get to tell people how this went, especially my friends. You don't say a word to them. I don't want you spreading some sappy ass love story about how we just had to be together. We go wherever I want, whenever I want and you pay for everything. If I'm doing this I might as well get something out of it." He muttered the last part more to himself. He faced Stan full on giving him his most threatening glare. "And you don't even fucking think of touching me without my permission."
Stan nodded enthusiastically, not even remotely fazed by his threat.
"And I don't do pet names." Pete added as an afterthought.
Stan was grinning wildly. "So you'll do it?" He asked.
"I-" Pete stopped suddenly when a van pulled up into the parking lot behind them. He turned around and saw Michael in the driver's seat of the familiar vehicle. He'd completely forgotten they were picking up rest of their friends on the other side of the school, and then ditching the rest of their classes. Michael was looking at him expectantly.
He turned back to Stan, who gave him a questioning look. "I have to go." He said.
"But what's your answer? Will you do it?" Stan's question was full of hope, but the look he gave Pete was a pleading one.
Fuck, Pete was going to regret this. He sighed deeply. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."
Stan nearly jumped with joy, but stopped at the hard look Pete gave him. "So we'll talk tomorrow then?"
"Sure, whatever." Pete said dismissively as he had already started walking away.
He climbed into the passenger's side of the musty van, immediately greeted by Michael. "What was that all about?" He asked as he started pulling out of the parking lot.
Pete was silent for a moment, contemplating how exactly to answer such a loaded question. "Marsh asked me out." He finally said, though his voice was low.
Michael gave him an inquisitive look but said nothing further. Pete was grateful, not wanting to talk about it anymore. He hadn't thought about what he'd tell his friends yet once he actually started "dating" Stan. He suddenly needed another smoke and a cup of coffee desperately. He didn't want to think about the real reason he might so easily agree to such a preposterous plan.
Stan reached up and gently rapped his hand against the trailer door. He waited. He felt a sudden shudder pass through his spine and Stan wasn't sure if it was from nerves or the actual cold. He rapped against the door again, this time louder and more prominent. It was silent for several more moments and Stan shifted around as he waited before banging on the door a third time. This time however, Stan could hear movement within the vehicle.
Pete popped open the door, leaning against the frame with one arm and bringing his other hand up to rub at his tired eyes. It was obvious that he had been asleep, Stan had expected as much, but was still taken aback by his appearance. Pete was clad in only a solid black muscle shirt that sat snuggly against his form and a pair of black boxers with the word 'sexy' written all over in silver, shimmering, cursive letters. Stan was sure it was too cold this time of year to be sleeping in so little layers. And, he was sure that was the only reason he was so interested in Pete's appearance. The fact that Pete's hair was sticking up in all the right place and made Stan want to run his hands through it, if only to tousle it up further, was something he chose to ignore.
He watched Pete bring his hand down to scratch at his hip, clearly still trying to register that he was awake now, his shirt lifting slightly as he dropped his hand back at his side, leaving a sliver of pale flesh exposed. For some reason, Stan found this small space of pale skin entrancing. Trying his best not to stare awkwardly, Stan force himself to look up at Pete, establishing eye contact like he normally did in conversation. He would repress any other intrusive thoughts. His mouth didn't quite get the memo as he spoke, however.
"Aren't you cold?" He asked, immediately regretting it for fear that Pete might misconstrue the interest behind his question.
Pete seemed unfazed though, as he looked down and took in his state of undress. "The cold helps me sleep." He said simply as if it was an obvious answer. Although, now that he'd opened the door, the cool morning air prickled his skin with goosebumps. "What are you even doing here, Marsh?" He countered wearily. It was probably too early for Pete to adopt his usual cold attitude yet.
"Oh. Well, I went to the house first but your mom said it was okay if I came on back here to-" Stan had begun explaining when Pete cut him off, holding his hand up in a gesture for him to stop.
"No not here, here." Pete stressed the words with annoyance. "I meant, why are you here at-" he paused and looked over at his clock which read 7:13 in bold red numbers. "-7 am? On a Saturday, no less."
"Oh." Stan said as he ran a hand through his short hair, suddenly feeling sheepish. "I, um, thought we could go out. Like on a date or whatever. I know it's early but I'm usually up early on Saturdays. And well, I was just thinking we could go down to the coffee shop or something. It'd be good if people saw us together, you know? Would make it more believable. We can go out today and you can come over for Sunday dinner tomorrow. Then, by Monday people will probably be talking about us and stuff." He felt like he was rambling now but inexplicably also felt he had to elucidate his actions to Pete and maybe this whole thing had been a bad idea.
But Pete didn't look like he was going to mock or punch Stan. He just looked confused and sleepy. "Stan, what the hell? I'm goth. We don't get up before noon. Actually, no one in their right mind gets up before noon on a Saturday, but we pretty much actively avoid all sunlight. Don't you remember?" His tone was tired and slow as he spoke.
"Seriously? I thought that was like vampires or something." Stan joked.
"Goddammit!" Pete exclaimed suddenly. "God-fucking-dammit!" It was so abrupt that Stan jumped a half step back in surprise. Before he could even question it, however, the door had slam shut in front of him.
Stan stood there, in front of the door, awkwardly and completely perplexed. He could hear the sounds of Pete rummaging around accompanied by a string of loud curses. Just when Stan was thinking he'd leave and regroup, the trailer door swung open once again.
Pete, now fully dressed coat and all, glared down, entirely pissed at Stan, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I fucking swear to god, if you ever compare me to those faggy, douche, bitch, wannabe vampires again I will slit your throat in your sleep." He threatened in a low tone with a finger in Stan's face for good measure.
Stan nodded trying his hardest to repress his smile. He could feel the laughter bubbling up in his chest as Pete stalked past him and down the street. The whole thing had been so unwarranted and dramatic it was kind of ridiculous and Stan just wanted to dissolve into giggles. He managed to hold his composure before turning to catch up to Pete.
"And you're buying me all the cups of coffee I want." Pete spoke as he continued to walk, not even bothering to check if Stan was following.
Stan couldn't help himself. "That's already covered under your 'paying for stuff' rule." He grinned, "I know you're upset, but babe you're so hot when you're angry."
Pete stopped and turn around just as Stan reached him. The rapid action nearly causing Stan to collide into him. "And some fucking breakfast." Pete scowled, very clearly not amused. This time Stan couldn't fight it and erupted into a fit of laughter as they walked on down the street.