It wasn't until the following morning that the sun broke through the rain. By then, everyone had gone slightly stir crazy and stiff. Bebe had insisted they play a few games. Some to get to know each other, others like Never Have I Ever or Two Truths and a Lie. Craig had no desire to play any of them, simply staring up to the top of the shelter and flipping them all off when he was asked something. During the TvTropes game Bebe had come up with, Ike and Filmore had dissolved into a fit of laughter when Firkle said that Craig's was 'Tsundere.' No one but them and Kenny had seemed to get it. Stan got stuck with Loveable Jock. Bebe was either Dumb Blonde or Attention Wore. Stan couldn't help but laugh when Kyle and Eric had gotten into it, Eric declaring that Kyle was the Alpha Bitch, and Kyle countering that Eric was the Big Bad Wannabe. That lead to a screaming match of insults and slurs thrown at each other. And when it came down to Kyle holding Eric in a headlock while his first officer screamed 'uncle' like a bitch, they all knew the rain needed to be stopped lest they have another murder on their hands. Why they continued to sit together, Stan didn't know.
Finally, as the afternoon creeped closer, the sun seemed to have enough power and heat to dissipate the clouds, offering them a break from the rain. Everyone shot out of the raft, desperate to use the bathroom or stretch their limbs properly. The guys had an easy go of it, they could just piss out the raft, despite Bebe and Wendy yelling at them about how disgusting it was. They'd also all seen Butter's ass a couple times, too, since the guy apparently needed to remove everything to pee. In the distance, Stan could hear Bebe and Wendy yelling at someone, demanding privacy while they did their business. The person - Eric, Stan could tell - was arguing that he needed to go too and they couldn't bogart the whole damn toilet area because they were bitches and wouldn't piss outside in the open. Stan winced at hearing him scream again, come stumbling out of the trees with a bright red hand print on his cheek. Stan smirked, trying to his laugh. "You gonna get your ass kicked by everyone or what?" Stan asked, and Eric shoved him by the shoulder. "They're probably on their periods or something," Eric huffed. "Nasty creatures, women. Both in mind and body."
Stan couldn't hold in his laugh now, exasperated and amused. "Yeah, okay, Cartman. Be thankful we have some of the fairer sex with us. Might have turned into a Lord of the Flies scenario without them." Cartman groaned, sitting down on a rock and prodding at the wet coals and ash in their fire pit. Stan took a spot beside him, leaning against his first officer. "Think they're looking for us?" Cartman asked, and Stan ran a hand through his hair to try and detangle some of the knots. "They'd better be. Fuck. I wanna go home, man. I'd kill a man for a cup of coffee or a beer." Stan figured he deserved it after all this shit. At least the sun was out, though. It gave them all a second life. "I'm losing weight, I'm so hungry," Cartman whined, throwing the stick away in a bit of a tantrum. Four days of minimal food would do that to a guy. "Everyone is, you're not special," Stan countered, shrugging at the nasty glare Eric sent him. "There's some coconuts and mango things if you're hungry, dude. We've got them in abundance."
"I don't want coconuts and fruit, I want a fucking bag of cheesy poofs," Cartman snapped, looking like he was the most hard done by creature in the world.
Stan mouthed 'oh my god' to himself, rolling his eyes. He pushed himself up with a small grunt, looking down at his first officer. "I'm gonna go take a shit and have a wash, I can't listen to your sob story about junk food." Cartman flipped him off, and Stan responded with a cheerful little waggle of his fingers as he walked backwards into the trees, before turning it into an obscene gesture himself.
After doing his business, Stan opted instead to take a dunk in the fresh water pool. Anything to get the sticky feeling of humidity and sweat off his skin. Wash away some of the sand. The interior of the island was so covered in various foliage that there wasn't much sand to collect on clothes or skin and it sounded like the best option to give his clothes and body a rinse. When he got there, though, a familiar head of red curls was crouched by the edge. "Hey, man," Stan said, not wanting to spook Kyle. He did anyway, apparently, given how Kyle jumped a little in his skin before turning to see him. Kyle visibly relaxed, turning back to the jug of water he was filling. Stan came closer, stripping out of his shirt and undoing his pants buckle.
Kyle turned, and stared at him. "Dude, no offense, but..." Stan, for the second time, mouthed 'oh my god' to himself as he slipped the leather from the loops. "I'm going for a swim, dude. Not coming on to you. Give me some credit, I've got more game than just whipping it out in front of you." Stan was slightly offended. Mostly amused, but still a little offended. Kyle laughed, looking awkward, and turned away as Stan pushed down his trousers and underpants in one go. They were stuck here for who knew how long, and Stan wasn't about to be shy in front of a guy who'd seen him naked hundreds of times since they were children. He was so desperate for a clean, he'd be in the buff in front of the ladies even, sensibilities be damned. Stan jumped in, and under the water he heard Kyle let out a string of curses at being splashed. The action hurt his ribs, but was so fucking worth it when Stan popped up to the surface and looked at Kyle's soggy self.
"You're still an asshole, I see," Kyle said, reaching forward to splash Stan. "And shameless, apparently."
Sticking his his tongue out, Stan threaded the water with his legs. "And you're still a prude." Stan's grin hurt, watching as Kyle crossed his arms across his chest and looked thoroughly offended. "I am not a prude!" The bright red on Kyle's cheeks said otherwise. Or perhaps he was just sunburned. Stan hoped for the former, honestly. It had always been amusing to get a rise out of Kyle in the past. Tilting his head down, Stan grabbed a mouthful of water and spat it in a thin stream at Kyle's face.
The redhead wiped the water away, glaring at Stan. But Stan could see there was no real malice in the look. "I hope you get a parasite," Kyle said.
"That'd rude," Stan pouted, swimming to the edge and grabbing Kyle by the front of his shirt, pulling him forward into the water. "Dude!" Kyle yelled, smacking at the water and sending a spray of it at Stan once he resurfaced. "Asshole." Kyle struggled for a moment, trying to worm his way out of his wet shirt and jeans before he tossed them on the embankment in a soggy pile. Kyle didn't go completely nude, opting to stay in his boxers.
"You need a wash, man, you stink." Stan laughed, not meaning it in the slightest. Truth be told, he couldn't smell anyone really. They'd all sat in the same clothes, sweaty and dirty, that Stan didn't much notice anyone. They'd all periodically dunked themselves in the ocean or washed their clothes out in the water and hung them to dry. There was no soap, aside from the bit Bebe had but Ike and his friends used it for washing clothes instead of bodies. "Yeah, well. You need a shave," Kyle counters, and Stan compared their reflections in the water. His beard was starting to grow in fairly thick in the last four days. Meanwhile, Kyle hadn't next to nothing. Compared to his own reflection, Stan couldn't help but think how young Kyle looked. "At least I can grow one." The pilot laughed, feeling Kyle kick him under the water.
"Soft spot?" Stan asked, and Kyle glared at him. "Dude, it's cool. Not your fault you're still a late bloomer. I mean, twenty eight is really late, but... Okay! Okay! I give!" Stan cried out, laughing as Kyle swam over to pinch him in the arm as punishment for his teasing. "Such a violent little thing, still? Haven't changed a lick, have you, Ky?"
Kyle rolled his eyes. "Neither have you, I'm sure. Still obsessed with flying and we all saw you get emotional over that Booby bird Butters killed." Stan felt his stomach churn at the memory of it. Eric had already been giving him shit for refusing to eat the fish. "In my defense," Stan pointed out, swimming over to a shallow rock to sit on. "I haven't eaten meat in years. It's a bit unnerving to just watch Butters straight up slaughter something. Let alone eat it."
Kyle dipped under the surface of the water, and Stan watched him do a few little laps before coming to join Stan on his rock. Kyle's skin was a vibrant red, speckled by freckles from the sun. He'd begun peeling, too, and Stan felt a great sympathy for him. Stan was doing alright, the burn he got the initial days fading into a tan with minimal pain. "How bad does that hurt?" Stan asked, and Kyle looked down at his shoulders, peeling off a large piece of skin. "Pretty bad, to be honest. The water feels nice on it. The ocean stung like a bitch the other day." Their little watering hole was cool with the earlier rain, filled to nearly the brim. It felt fantastic on Stan's skin, and he could only imagine how soothing it was on Kyle's. "What about you?" Kyle asked, nodding down at Stan's bruised chest.
"Better, I guess. Still sore as shit, but I'm doing alright." Stan said, not sopping Kyle from turning and pressing his hands against Stan's wet chest. He winced, feeling as Kyle's fingers prodded along and between ribs. Stan figured he was feeling for anything abnormal. Handy, having an almost doctor on board. And aside from the pain and tenderness, it felt... nice. It had been a while since he'd had someone touch him. Kyle's hands had stopped moving, resting flat on his chest and side as he looked up at Stan. Stan stared down at him, both of them quiet for a moment.
Stan brought a hand up to Kyle's face, pushing a wet curl out of his eyes before leaning forward. Kyle met him the rest of the way, pressing their lips together into a small kiss. Stan wanted to think that maybe this crash was meant to bring them together. That the age old saying of if it was meant to happen, it would. That he'd feel passion and sparks or ...anything.
But he didn't. And judging by the feeling of Kyle trying not to laugh into his mouth, Stan guessed that his old flame didn't as well. Stan pulled away slightly, only to press their foreheads together and hold the back of Kyle's head with his hands. Kyle' she green eyes were alight with amusement, and Stan couldn't help but chuckle along with him. "Nothing?" Stan asked, and Kyle shook his head a little. "Not like that, man. Sorry." Stan smiled, holding their heads together. "Maybe there never was," Stan said, and Kyle looked slightly confused. "Maybe that's why we fought all the time. We weren't meant to be in love-" Kyle looked slightly hurt at that, and Stan felt the need to elaborate further. "No, no. I mean, I loved you, man. But like, maybe we weren't in love, you know?" Kyle seemed to get it, and Stan felt him nod in understanding.
"Seems right..." Kyle stayed quiet for a moment, and Stan pulled back a little to rest his chin atop of the wet red curls. "I missed you," Stan whispered. "You were my best friend." Kyle slide closer on the rock, wrapping his arms around Stan's torso, gentle to not hurt him. "I missed you too," Kyle mumbled. "It sucked, so much. We were so stupid." Despite not feeling anything romantic during their short kiss, Stan felt something all the same. He felt a little more complete, felt like Kyle and he were friends again. They had a decade of catching up to do, and maybe the island was pushing them at a rapid pace because they needed each other and everyone else. But Stan felt like, even if he lost his license and his job, he might just have his greatest friend back.
"I'm sorry." Stan spoke quietly, continuing his hug. "For the stupid shit I said. Not much I can do to make it better, but I'm sorry."
"Me too," Kyle replied, and Stan pulled back after a couple moments and popped a brow. "What?" Kyle asked.
"Say it," Stan said.
"Say what?"
"You're sorry."
"I just did?" Kyle's voice was confused, but Stan wasn't being fooled by his innocent game. He wasn't getting out of his own apology this way. "No, you didn't. You just said 'me too'. That's not 'I'm Sorry, Stan. I was a horrible person who didn't believe in your dreams and I will make it up to you by massaging your shoulders and feet.'"
Kyle wasn't amused. "I'm literally not saying that ever."
Stan poked him in the chest. "Say it."
"No!"
"Say it or I'll tell Eric you've got a crush on him and we can all listen to him cry about a Jew being in love with him," Stan teased, his mouth dropping in realization at the end of it as Kyle's face went a brilliant shade. "Oh my god you do! You think he's hot!" Perhaps it was childish, but Stan couldn't help put point accusingly at him before singing. "Kyle and Eric sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-GAH!" Kyle had punched him square in the chest, desperate to defend himself. "He's an antisemetic twat. Just because he's good looking doesn't mean I like him."
Stan was going to rag on him so hard.