Chapter Four: Comfort

The first thing Kenny noticed when he woke up was the pain. His whole body hurt like he'd been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. Or a tank. Or an eighteen-wheeler carrying a tank.

The second thing he noticed was the warmth beside him. He cautiously opened his eyes, almost afraid of what he would see lying beside him. All night he'd been having awful nightmares, flashes of Cartman's face, of his voice, taunting him. He just wanted it to stop.

But when he finally worked up the nerve to look at whoever was laying beside him, he felt a flood of relief sink into his aching bones. He'd recognize that mess of black hair anywhere, and there was nobody else he'd have rather woken up beside right then. Stan just had this comforting presence, like as long as he was around, everything was going to be okay. (Kenny was pretty sure that was just about the gayest thought he'd ever had, right up next to his fantasies about being reamed in the ass by some guy with great abs, but he didn't particularly care right then.) It was a plus that he was really, really nice to look at.

He tried to cuddle up to the athlete sleeping beside him because hey, when you wake up in the bed of the school's hot quarterback, you don't ask questions, you just go with it. But he could barely move, and even trying brought waves of pain that reminded him that no, he hadn't had a fun little one night stand with Stan out of his fantasies.

He could barely remember the events of the night before, but the little flashes of memory he did get told him that was probably a good thing.

It was actually almost funny, really. In that sort of bitter comedy sense he'd always found sort of amusing. He'd grown to discount Cartman. He just hadn't seemed like a threat, really more of a nuisance than anything else.

That certainly wasn't true anymore. Kenny felt his stomach sink - he just felt so stupid. He groaned, resting his head against the warmth of Stan's shoulder. Even that slight contact was the most comforting feeling in the world right then.

He stayed like that until Stan started to stir, growing so relaxed he felt like he could have fallen asleep if not for the pain. He wasn't sure how he'd slept so much the night before. Stan rolled over to look at him when he woke up and Kenny could feel the relief emanating off of him. "Hey," he said, smiling softly. "How are you feeling?"

Kenny smirked. "Like I could get up and dance right now," he responded. Stan rolled his eyes, sitting up and stretching. "No, Ken, really. How are you doing? Other than the pain, I mean. You've got some new bruises that weren't there last night. You're sure I wrapped everything?"

Kenny nodded, bringing his good hand to his jaw, where the skin felt tender. Where the hell had Cartman learned to punch? "Yeah dude, you've got me wrapped like an Egyptian mummy." He said lightly, trying and failing to sit up. "Help me up, would you? I gotta take a piss."

Of all of the things Kenny said, somehow this was the one that got Stan to laugh. Maybe it was just because it was so mundane that it surprised him. Either way, Kenny took the chuckle as a victory. Stan gently pulled him into a sitting position, acting almost like he was moving some priceless china doll. "You're not going to break me, Stan. Promise." Kenny teased, although really, he found it sort of cute that the athlete was so worried.

Kenny took a moment to get used to sitting up before he got Stan to help him stand up. Almost immediately, standing felt like a bad decision, but he was determined to walk on his own. He willed his legs to stop shaking, grateful that Stan wasn't letting go right away. It was like standing multiplied the pain in his chest, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He nearly collapsed into Stan, and part of him wanted to give in and let his friend hold him up. But he couldn't let Cartman win like that. He had to be stronger.

"I'm... okay... Stan," he said through gritted teeth, taking a tentative step forward. Regardless, Stan didn't let go, keeping one arm firmly around his waist and holding his hand with the other. Kenny was horribly appreciative of that fact, since he was marginally sure that Stan was the only thing keeping him standing. He paused there for a few moments, trying to take a breath that didn't result in shooting pains through his chest. Eventually he gritted his teeth again, took a sharp breath through his nostrils, and took another step. Then he took another. Through sheer willpower he managed to shrug off Stan's extremely helpful support and push his way to the bathroom, where he promptly sat himself on the toilet, struggled with his pajama pants long enough he felt like he was going to pee himself, and then finally shoved his dick between his legs and let out a sigh of relief as he emptied his bladder into the toilet.

He closed his eyes when he was finished, like walking just that short distance had expended all of his day's energy, and he felt like he could have fallen asleep if not for the fact that he heard voices down the hall. He struggled to get up from where he was sitting so he could listen more closely. He eventually did, however, manage to pull himself up and pull his pants back up, and then he cracked open the bathroom door, leaned against it, and listened.

"...he's just acting so normal," he heard Stan say.

"Well what did you expect?" Came the response. Was that Kyle? "It's Kenny, dude. If you're really worried about him, go talk to him. You know him, he puts on a brave face but it's not like he won't talk to you, Stan. You're his best friend."

Kyle wasn't exactly wrong, though Kenny didn't really like the whole 'puts on a brave face' bit. He always liked to think his easygoing mask was difficult for people to see through. But Stan was definitely his best friend. He wasn't sure where he'd be if not for Stan goddamned Marsh and his open door policy.

He sighed, finishing what he needed to do at what he felt like was a horribly slow pace. He looked in the mirror as he washed his hands, noticing the bruise along his jaw and remembering where Cartman had punched him. Even ignoring that he looked like a wreck - it really wasn't a surprise that Stan was so concerned.

After trying to wash the exhaustion out of his eyes, he carefully made his way back down the hall, bracing himself against the wall. He was trying to be quiet but must have made a noise, as Stan suddenly left his parents' room and hurried over to help him, worry clear in his face. Kenny started to shrug off his arm, but the moment Stan was helping him up he immediately felt some of his pain lessen, and it felt too good to give up. He sank against Stan, who took him into his arms and held him upright. God, that felt good.

Stan stood with him for a moment, supporting most of Kenny's weight, and then leaned down to scoop the boy up bridal style. Kenny almost protested, but it felt so much better to not be standing anymore that he couldn't bear to do anything that would make it stop, so instead he just closed his eyes and lay his head against Stan's chest. "You okay, Ken?" The athlete asked, concern obvious in his voice. Kenny nestled into his chest, breathing in the earthy scent of Stan. "Been better," he mumbled. "Been worse, too. Was that Kyle?"

Stan paused, and then nodded. "Yeah," he said. "He stayed the night in my parents' room. Just as backup." He brought Kenny down the hall much more easily, and set him down carefully on his bed. Kenny started to curl up out of habit, but the sudden shooting waves of pain stopped him. He looked up at Stan, breathing shallowly, and Stan wordlessly sat down beside him and ran a hand through his messy blond hair.

"Hey, you feeling any better, Kenny?" Came Kyle's voice from the doorway. Kenny turned to look at him, and flashed his friend a cheesy smile. "I feel fine, Kyle. I was just telling Stanny boy over here I think I'm gonna do a naked jig out of here this afternoon."

Stan rolled his eyes, but he chuckled at the same time. Kenny loved being able to make him laugh. "You can if you want to, dude, but it's fucking cold out. I think your balls would freeze off."

Kenny shrugged his good shoulder, wincing as even that caused pain, and nestled into Stan's hand a bit. He wasn't going to say no to the physical contact, that was for sure. Stan noticed the movement, and moved a bit closer to him, reminding Kenny exactly why he considered him his best friend. Just those little things.

"Really though, Ken, how are you holding up?" Kyle asked, more seriously, and Kenny rolled his eyes from the safety of Stan's hand. "I'm fine, really." He insisted. "I mean the broken bones aren't fun and I'm hungry as all fuck, but I'm fine."

Kyle perked up at that. "Want me to go get pizza?" He asked, sounding almost too eager. "I mean, it's like noon, but it's never too early for pizza." Stan shrugged, looking down at Kenny, who lay beside him seemingly staring off into space for a good minute before nodding. There was a fraying string hanging off of Stan's jacket, and right then he wanted nothing more than to snap it off. He wasn't even sure why it was suddenly demanding so much of his attention.

"You sure you're alright, Ken?" Stan asked, sounding worried, and Kenny nodded before shaking his head to clear it. "Yeah," he said. "Just... thinking. Er, pizza. Pizza sounds good. Just thinking about pizza. You guys like spinach on pizza? Tweek likes it for some reason, spinach and peppers. Craig gave me a slice once, it's actually really good."

Kyle gave Stan a look that Kenny couldn't read, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach at the fact that the two of them were sharing secret glances over him. "I'm just trying to give you an option other than 'meat lovers, hold the pork', okay?" He added, a little more testily than he'd intended. Kyle started to back out of the room a bit. "Okay dude, thanks. Nobody here is getting on you for anything, just... do whatever you need to do. You never mentioned you didn't like meat lovers before."

Kyle hurried downstairs to go order the pizza, and Stan looked down at him. "What's with the spinach pizza thing?" He asked. Kenny let out a frustrated sigh, turning his head to look up at Stan. "See, this is why I never said anything before. You guys just turn it into a big fucking thing. I was just making a suggestion, that's all."

Stan frowned down at him. "Ken," he said, stroking Kenny's hair. "You know you can always talk to me, right?"

Kenny sighed. "It's not a big deal, I don't actually give a shit. I was just suggesting 'cause..." he took a deep breath. "The meat lovers one just reminds me of guts, okay? I didn't really wanna do that today." Stan cocked an eyebrow. "Guts?"

"Yes!" Kenny practically growled, and the violence with which he answered started him coughing. His coughs sounded more like something being strangled considering how hard he was trying to hold them in. Each one felt like a knife through his ribs. "m...makes me think of laying in an alley and all you can see is your guts scattered around you while wild dogs tear you to shreds. It's a... recurring nightmare I've had." He kept his gaze firmly averted from Stan's. "Don't tell Kyle, okay? He'd probably laugh, 'cause it's stupid."

"Jesus Christ, dude" came Stan's response. "That's not stupid, Kyle wouldn't laugh." Kenny shrugged his good shoulder, not believing him, and then immediately decided he would never, ever shrug again as suddenly he couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes, trying to get himself under control, and he could feel Stan watching him, worrying about him.

"Kyle brought some pain meds," Stan said when Kenny finally met his eye. "I told him to. They're from when his dad had that back surgery a few months ago, nobody at his house will miss them."

Kenny looked up at him. "And?" He asked. Stan rolled his eyes, smirking. "I think you should take them, dummy. Don't just lay there in pain." He brushed a chunk of sweaty blond hair out of Kenny's face, and Kenny cracked a smile. "I'm fine, Stanny boy. It doesn't even hurt that much." Stan gave him a derisive look, and Kenny looked away from him. "What's it to you, anyway?" He mumbled. "I thought you were against me getting high."

Stan sighed. "I'm not telling you to take ten of them, Ken, Jesus. I just don't like seeing you in pain like this." Kenny smirked, reaching his good arm out for the pill bottle. "Glad to know you've finally accepted me as your lord and savior, Ken-Jesus," he said, prompting Stan to roll his eyes as he popped the top on the bottle and shook out one pill.

Kenny stared at him, keeping his hand held out, until he finally sighed and shook out another. He wouldn't admit it, but giving Kenny the whole bottle still made him nervous. Hell, even giving him more than one pill made him nervous. Kenny could tell. It didn't make much of a difference to him as long as he got what he needed. Really, it just meant less steps involved. He fumbled around on Stan's nightstand for the bottle of water he knew was there - Stan always got thirsty at night - and true to form, found it handed to him by the Marsh boy himself. Always trying to be helpful, that Stanley. It was cute, really.

God, he had the gayest fucking thoughts sometimes.

As he tucked the bottle against himself so he could get it open with one hand, Stan sat with his hands in his lap, looking pensive. He waited until Kenny had swallowed the painkillers before asking, tentatively, "Kenny... do you want to go to the hospital?"

Kenny snorted in response, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes while he waited for the painkillers to work their magic. "Let me think about that for a second. No." Stan couldn't help the smirk that made its way to his face. "I mean, I probably could have guessed that." He said. "I really think it might be a good idea for you to get looked at by an actual doctor, though."

Kenny shook his head slowly. "I'd rather you do it. At least you give a shit. They always kill me." Stan snorted. "I think that's a bit of an exaggeration, Ken."

Kenny opened one eye to look back at him. "Okay, they almost always kill me."

Stan gave him a tired smile like he'd decided he wasn't going to win this battle, and nodded. "Can I change your bandages at least, then?" He asked. Kenny nodded, trying to lift himself into a sitting position with one arm. He could feel Stan's eyes on him like his friend was trying not to look at him with pity - something he'd yelled at him for doing in the past. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. "I can get myself up, dammit," he said, maybe a little more harshly than he'd intended.

Stan gave him a hurt look, and he tried to soften his tone. "Really, I'm okay, Stanny boy. Go get the stuff you need to do it. You know Kyle's gonna be a pain in the ass if the pizza gets here and we're not down there to eat it."

Stan chuckled and went to grab his first aid kit, lingering for just a moment. Kenny found it kind of sweet that he was so concerned. He didn't have a ton of people like that in his life.

By the time Stan had returned, Kenny had managed to get himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the wall and taking long, shallow breaths to try to manage the sudden pain radiating through his body. He closed his eyes and tried to smile as Stan sat down beside him and placed a hand on his knee. "What time is it?" He asked.

"I dunno, sometime after noon," Stan answered, rifling through his bag. "You tired?"

Kenny nodded. "Hoping it means the pills are starting to work," he mumbled. He could almost feel the force of Stan frowning in response without even having to open his eyes. "Can you stay with me for a bit, though, Ken?" He asked, running a hand through Kenny's messy blond hair. Kenny opened his eyes, glancing up at him. "Just so I can do this, then you can go back to sleep, alright?" He added. Kenny nodded, shifting a bit. "Just tell me what you need me to do," he said.

They changed his bandages with relatively little difficulty, all things considered. He didn't seem to be bleeding much anymore, which probably helped, but as soon as Stan unwrapped his wrist to clean it off, Kenny felt the pain radiate all the way up through his shoulder. He got a sudden flash of memory - Cartman twisting his arm behind his back and shoving him against the floor. He grimaced, and Stan gave him one of those looks that made him feel like a difficult question was coming.

"So..." he mumbled, fastening the wrapping around Kenny's wrist. "Do you... remember what happened?"

Kenny was expecting the question, to some extent. From what he could piece together, he didn't think he'd said very much the night before. Stan had a tendency to worry.

"Sort of," he answered. "Enough."

"What's enough?"

Kenny at least appreciated that Stan kept doing things while he was talking. It made it feel less like an interview. He stopped himself from shrugging and frowned, and eventually said "Enough."

"Jesus Christ, Ken," Stan said, sighing. "You are so difficult to get any information out of. I can't help you if you're fighting me."

Kenny closed his eyes, grimacing."Are you done with those, yet?" He mumbled. "I'm tired." Stan sighed heavily, but eventually just grunted "yeah, you can lay down."

Kenny sank into the bed with a sigh, and Stan packed his first aid kit away and lay down beside him. Almost immediately, Kenny inched closer to him on the bed, resting his head on his friend's shoulder. Stan shifted his position at the contact, gently pulling Kenny closer to him and resting his hand in his hair. It wasn't like they hadn't cuddled like this before. (Kenny had always been more of a physical person, even before he'd started having sex. Cuddling was comforting.)

It had an immediate effect on him. Stan had a tendency to do that. The athlete pulled one of the blankets up over them, gently stroking his hair. They lay like that for long enough that Kenny was surprised Kyle didn't come upstairs to complain.

"Alright," he said finally, closing his eyes and nestling into Stan. "What do you want to know?"

He could feel Stan's eyes on him. "Who was it?"

Of course that was the question. Kenny felt the energy sink out of him. Stan could feel it too, because he held him tighter for just a moment.

"It was Cartman," he mumbled after what felt like forever, and he felt Stan stiffen at the name. "I'm okay, Stan." He insisted. "I've been worse. You've seen me worse. I'll be fine before you know it. Now I know I should just really, really avoid him."

Stan frowned. "Weren't you already trying to do that?"

"I know." Kenny sighed. "I know. It's not really a solution. I just... what else can I do?"

"Get him arrested," Stan said. "At least get a restraining order. Something." Kenny snorted. "Yeah, a piece of paper is going to keep him away. Or the South Park police. Trying to do any of that shit is just going to piss him off. If they even believed me in the first place."

He could feel the anger radiating off of Stan, and it made him want to shrink away. But at the same time, Stan was stroking his hair and holding him close, gestures which were so comforting right then he just wanted to stay there forever. He lay there with a pit of worry growing in his stomach, closing his eyes.

"I believe you," Stan said eventually. "I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks. I'll always believe you. And he's not going to hurt you again."

They lay there like that in comfortable silence until the doorbell shocked Kenny out of his almost-sleep. He'd already forgotten about the pizza.