The island wasn't large, but the interior was thick with overgrowth. Kyle wondered if there had ever been a human to walk here, since the island's creation. He doubted not. When Wendy and Bebe had returned, they said it wasn't very large. That it likely wasn't on any maps, seeing as it was rather insignificant. Butter's thought that perhaps pirates landed once on the island, that surely out of the billions of the people that have ever lived, someone must have been here. Kyle supposed that there was a chance, but he highly doubted that there was some sort of secret pirate treasure left on a shitty little island like this. They'd have never likely found it, if they had. And if they did, they'd have found it anyway. It was senseless to debate with Butter's on it, the blonde believing what he wanted. So Kyle had grown frustrated, volunteering to go find them something to eat. The others stayed behind to manage Stan and his offensive co-pilot, build a fire, and figure out some form of shelter. But Kenny had come with him, not wanting Kyle to be off on his own apparently.
"So, how do you know our little Skipper?" Kenny asked, legs jumping over fallen and bent trees covered with creepers. Kyle had to do a light jog to keep up with him. Kyle couldn't help but feel a little offended that Stan hadn't seemed to mention him ever. He was unsure of how long Stan had known Kenny, but never a talk in all that time of his first serious relationship? Kyle supposed he couldn't be too upset by it. He himself rarely mentioned Stan, and when he did it was in passing and he was always labeled 'my ex in high school'. But still.. It hurt, a little. "We dated for most of high school," Kyle explained, reaching out to grab the back of Kenny's shirt and yanking him back before he fell into a large hole almost entirely disguised by fallen debris and plant life. Kenny looked down, thanking Kyle before he paused to let him continue. Like there was much more to the story.
Well, they were alone, and Kyle doubted he'd see Kenny again if they ever got off this island. Why not talk to someone about it? "We fought a lot, towards the end. He was so focused on the damn flying. Didn't give a shit about anything else. Gave up football, hockey, school. He was smart, talented. He'd have gotten somewhere, but he put everything aside for flying. It pissed me off," Kyle continued, stopping and pointing up to a tree laden with coconuts. It seemed easy enough to get there, if one of them gave each other a boost. "Boost me?" Kyle asked, and Kenny nodded, bending down with his fingers interlocked for Kenny to hoist him up to rip some of the coconuts down. "Careful," Kyle said, wincing when a small one hit Kenny square in the face. "Sorry..." Too late, apparently.
"It's alright, I'm fine," Kenny laughed, pushing Kyle up higher with a grunt. "Carry on," he said.
"Anyway, we got into fights all the time right? And he ripped me a new one about spending all my time focusing on grades and my academic resume. That I was wasting my own time, that by the time I was even close to finishing studying, Stan would already be working. That he was further along in his career than I ever was. That's it, you can let go." Kenny let go, Kyle dropping the few feet to land on the island's floor, wincing a little as his ankle twisted slightly. Kyle had seen Butters fashion a bag from his blue tee shirt, but the idea of removing the white button up to expose his skin in the sun wasn't one he was all to keen on. Kyle looked over to Kenny, asking with his eyes for his shirt.
Kenny rolled his eyes, smiling all the same as he removed the black uniform shirt. "You can always ask, I'll never deny stripping for a pretty thing like you," Kenny crooned, pulling the shirt up and over his head and handing it to Kyle. He tried the sleeves up in a knot, before tossing the coconuts into it. "Sorry. I just... I burn. I want to avoid it as much as I can. And you look like you tan, so..." Kenny was all bronzed, and standing there in the jungle with shaggy blonde hair and no shirt... Well, he wasn't half bad to look at, really. Kenny caught him looking, stuck his lips out in a pout before popping his hips in a pose.
"You're a better model when you're not trying," Kyle laughed, tossing the shirt sack over his shoulder. They walked through the jungle further, Kenny nudging him and pointing to a small stream. Likely salt water, but it was worth a follow just in case there was some sort of fresh water they could drink. With any luck, they got the fire going and could boil it up and not die of dehydration. "You know," Kenny said after a few moments. "Stan's a good pilot. One of the best I've seen. He's good at it. People like him, think he's wonderful." Kyle didn't expect Stan's coworker and friend not to come to his defense, so he was expecting it. A rational part of him knew that their break up was both of them, but the irrational and bitter part of him just wanted to blame Stan. "He loves it. I don't know if you love what you do, if it makes you as happy as flying does Stan. And I don't know you. But he's got a chip in his shoulder about people thinking what he does isn't as impressive as it is. I hope you didn't contribute to it." Kyle felt like he was being scolded by a parent. Somehow it felt worse. A man he barely knew clearly could read enough into his and Stan's history with a few pieces of information to know that yeah, Kyle did contribute to it.
Kyle felt the need to defend himself. "He said similar shit to me, though."
"Believe me, I know Stan isn't perfect and I don't know how much of a little shit he was when he was a teenager," Kenny said hopping over to Kyle's side of the stream as it began to get larger, going up a small slope in what felt like the center of the island. "But I know he's an awesome guy, whose good at his job. Kinda bums me out when people talk like what he does isn't valuable. Especially when those people hire him because they can't do it themselves." Kyle pursed his lips, bumping Kenny with the sack of coconuts. "Yeah, yeah, I get it." Kyle huffed. "I was nasty to him. I know. And then he was nasty back. And we exploded and never spoke to each other again. I just... I hope he doesn't hate me, or something. I haven't seen him in like, ten years."
"So why does it matter what he thinks about you now?" Kenny asked, and Kyle wondered for a moment if there was something there. That Kenny's defense of Stan wasn't just because he was a friend. Kyle wasn't much interested in Stan that way, anyway. Whatever they had was long over, no spark, no attraction. But Kyle still cared what Stan thought. They'd been friends their whole lives, until they weren't. And seeing Stan again made him want that again. That close friendship that they lost.
Kyle... Kyle wanted to be friends again, at least while together on this stupid island. Maybe it was supposed to happen. "I want him to like me, I want to be friends. I know it's probably hopeless, but if we're gonna be here together, I'd like to try and work shit out. We super best friends, man. Seeing him here makes me miss it." Kenny shook his head beside him, laughing lightly. But there was a small threat in his voice when he spoke. "Don't make it worse, please. He's already beating himself up pretty bad. He's just gotten where he wanted and now he's pretty sure his career is over. He could use another friend, just don't do something stupid like... I dunno, lead him on or blame him. There was nothing he could do about this but hope not to die. Pretty shitty when you can't come back from that shit."
Kyle was confused, eyebrows knitting together trying to understand the last bit. He didn't press it. Besides, there were more important things at the moment. Such as the pool of water they'd come across. Centered so nicely, shaped from large rocks. Likely the foundation of the island, sand building up over time to form the island. Or something. Kyle wasn't an expert of geology, and he knew next to nothing about it. "Think it's fresh?" Kenny asked, and Kyle shrugged. "Not sure. Could be, if it's just caught from rain water. But if it's fed from the ocean, then I doubt it." But it didn't look as if there were any other entry points of water, just the bit that trickled out from the small stream. It wasn't too large, the pool. Kyle guessed maybe eighteen feet in diameter, nine or ten feet deep. But it was clear, and seemed to host a small variety of crabs and snails at the bottom and on the rock walls.
"Only one way to test," Kenny said, vaulting over a trunk of a fallen tree to the edge of it. "Kenny, there could be parasites..." Kyle warned, but Kenny was already lifting a palm full of water to his lips. "Tastes fine," the blonde said. "It's fresh water. Rain water, like you said." Storms were common, and the water would have either collected somewhere, evaporated or ran into the ocean. Kyle was just glad they found it. "We'll still need to boil it. Don't want anyone to get si-" Kenny stopped talking, watching Kenny jump into the pool. Kyle leaned over the log, watching Kenny head to the bottom before kicking off the rock and shooting back to the surface. He tossed his hair out of his face, and Kyle couldn't help but burst into laughter at the mental comparison to him and The Little Mermaid. "You're a true Disney princess, Kenny," Kyle commented.
Kenny's face lit up, treading water with one arm and his legs as he placed a decent sized crab on his head. The claws clung to his hair, thinking it dangerous. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me! Princess Kenny!" Kyle grinned, fond of Kenny already in the hours since they'd met. Offering a hand, Kyle helped pull Kenny out of the water. "Let's get back, we've got something to eat for now, and know where to get water. It'll be dark soon." The sun was lowering in the sky quickly, and Kyle had no desire to be in the interior of the jungle during the night.
Eric liked Bebe. She was witty, funny, and a sight for sore eyes, that was for damn sure. A lipstick lesbian, too, which was a bit of a bummer but Eric figured there wasn't much harm in looking. Especially since shortly after the others had pissed off, she'd complained of the heat and stripped out of her blouse and leggings to walk around their little encampment in a matching set of pink underwear, Her girlfriend, a know it all named Wendy, gave him a smack for staring. "What? She's a babe!" Wendy narrowed her eyes, flicking a little bead that bounced off his cheek. "I'm aware, but it's not polite to stare," she snapped, and Eric held up a hand in surrender. "Chill, woman," Cartman batted away the beads that she shot his way.
Bebe didn't seem to mind, though, prancing about in her underpants for all of them to see. Wendy's protests didn't stop him from staring, either. She stood on her toes, leg muscles tensing as she reached up to hang her clothes out on a tree branch to dry after she'd washed the sand from them in the ocean. Cartman figured she was used to stares, and judging by the way she swayed while she walked, Eric wouldn't doubt that she often used it to her advantage. Dangerous woman. "You're damn lucky," he nodded to Wendy, both of them staring as Bebe adjusted her breasts into her bra. She sported them looking, grabbed a hold of her boobs and gave them a full body jiggle.
Wendy's face flushed with what Eric guessed to be both embarrassment at her girlfriends antics, and appreciation for it.
Bebe bounded back over, tits and ass bouncing in what Eric could swear was slow motion. She brought with her a large bag, sitting down close beside Wendy across from Cartman. "Anything good in there, Baywatch?" Eric nodded to it, propping himself up better on the tree he was leaned against. Bebe nodded, dumping the contents onto the sand. "Oh yeah! A lady never leaves home without being prepared." She offered Wendy a bar of chocolate, and Eric's eyes widened at the sight. Wendy rolled her eyes, ripping the foil off and splitting it three ways and handing a piece each to him and Bebe.
Both he and Bebe shoveled the whole piece into their mouths. "You're both pigs," Wendy commented, rolling her eyes while Bebe dug through a small zippered bag to pull out a compact mirror. "Signal mirror," Bebe said, placing each thing meticulously in the pile of what Eric thought was just random female junk. "Razor. Because I am not getting hairy legs." She shivered at the thought of it, and Wendy just stared at her, flabbergasted as to why that would even be in her purse. "Make up. Hair brush. Dry shampoo..." Bebe started listing everything in her little make up pouch. "Ooh, hair ties!" Slipping a couple onto her wrist, Bebe handed the bag for Wendy to go through so she could move behind her girlfriend, hair brush in hand. She's brushed out the knots as Wendy searched, Eric thoroughly enjoying himself. He could almost pretend he was peeking in on a sleep over, watching as Bebe plaited Wendy's long black hair into an intricate braid, tying it off with an eslatic. "Can you hand me the bobby pins?" Bebe asked, and Wendy dug through the pouch to hand her a little piece of paper with a bunch slipped onto it.
"Babe, why do you have lube?" Wendy asked, holding up a small little squeeze tube of it. Bebe just grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before she twisted the braid up into an intricate knot on her head. "And condoms?" Eric laughed at Wendy's faces, eyes narrowed as if she was expecting the worst answer. "Because were traveling with a bunch of boys, and they forget everything. Never hurts to be prepared. Plus, what would we have done if we got super drunk and decided to have a resold with a hot young man?" Bebe winked over Wendy's shoulder at Eric, bursting into giggles as Wendy smacked at her thigh.
"Don't give him any ideas," she snipped at the blonde, and Bebe moved around their little circle to prop Eric up from the tree, kneeling behind him with hair brush and bobby pins in hand. "Oh, please do," Eric said. "It helps me forget the pain," he whined, dramatic as Bebe peered down at him. He put on his best pout, and Bebe grinned down at him, before pressing a little kiss to his forehead. "Look, he's sad, Wendy." She held Cartman's head in her hand, leaning down to press her cheek against the side of his head to pout with him. "Let him dream."
"That's all he's doing, dreaming. You wouldn't know what to do with him anyway," Wendy huffed, putting the make up items back into the little bag as Bebe brushed Eric's brown hair from his eyes, shaking the sand away from his scalp. Eric closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingers massaging at his scalp. "Christ," he moaned, feeling her fingers dig into the skin. It was like she was releasing the pressure. How had he never known that someone playing with his hair felt so fucking good? They were all silent for a few minutes, aside from Bebe's questionable little giggles every now and then. But with her fingers in his hair, Eric didn't care. Every now and then, he'd open his eyes and glance to Wendy, who bit back a smirk and kept sorting through the shit from Bebe's purse. There was a pause as Bebe leaned forward to grab something, but Eric didn't catch what it was that Wendy handed her.
They stayed like that for a while, Bebe humming a little tune as she played around with Eric's hair. He recognized the tune, some pop song that he was ashamed to know, and hummed along with her. Bebe must have begun to get into it, he could feel her moving behind him to her humming before she started to sing, Eric joining in with her. Relaxed and rather happy, all things considered.
Until they were rudely interrupted by laughing, and Eric knew Kenny and that stupid ginger returned. Eric cracked an eye open, spotting both Kenny and the Jew doubled over with laughter. "Holy fuck," the redhead wheezed, wiping at his eyes, wet from laughter. "What's so funny," Eric snapped, sitting back up. Behind him, he heard Bebe snort, and Wendy's face contorted as she tried to hold back her own laughter. Clearly, Eric wasn't in on the joke. Wendy held out Bebe's compact mirror, and Eric snatched ahold of it before looking at his reflection.
Bebe had weaved his hair with ribbons and bows, almost all of them some shade of pink or in various stage of frill. His hair wasn't long, but it was long enough for several tufts of hair to stand right up, supported by glittery baubles. Eric turned to look behind him, sending Bebe a nasty look as she rolled around in the sand, absolutely dying with laughter at this point. "You're an evil bitch, you know that?" Eric huffed, reaching up to start pulling the shit out of his hair. "You could have at least made it look nice!" He looked like he'd been attacked by a five year old girl at a tea party.
Bebe seemed to take the insult as a compliment, though.
Eric struggled to remove one of the ribbons weaved into a braid from the back of his head, and he was half tempted to give up, unable to use one of his arms. But the ginger came over, fingers digging into his hair to help pull it out. Eric was going to smack him away, something about his face making Eric feel like he needed to out his defenses up. "You ready to thank me, yet," and Eric suddenly realized why he came to help remove the shit from his hair. He felt long fingers cling to it st the roots, not hard enough to hurt, but a clear threat to do as he was told or expect a tug.
"For what?" Eric asked, innocent, trying not to wince as he felt the strands strain at the roots. "For fixing your fucking shoulder. And I also think an apology would be nice, considering you thought it appropriate to use a slur." Eric's head got pulled back until he was looking up at a mop of red curls, green eyes glaring down at him. "I don't apologize to Jews," the larger one said, and Broflovski yanked on his hair, and kneed his injured shoulder. "Okay, okay, fuck! I'm sorry, fuck. Let go!" Eric smacked at the others hand, and Kyle did so in an instant. "Was that so hard?"
Yes. But Eric didn't say so. Out of all the things he'd expected from his life, abuse from some ginger Jew with a clear anger problem wasn't one of them.