If Eric had to hear someone comment on his weight loss one more time, he was going to snap. Over the course of the two weeks they'd been on this island, Cartman had dropped a fair amount of weight. The lack of junk food, the need to stay active to not go insane, the limited source of food... It all contributed to it. Eric wasn't the only one who was losing weight, of course. Everyone was to some degree. But the change was most noticeable in him. More to lose.

What was infuriating were the offhanded comments that he somehow was looking better now than he had before.

Mostly they came from Stan and Kenny, who always ragged on him for being fat in the first place. Bebe also spoke up about it, smacking his ass and making flirty comments. It was infuriating. He was starving, literally, yet somehow he was praised for it because it was more attractive? Call Eric salty, but he was attractive before he lost weight. He did his best to bite his tongue at it, but he wanted a bag of god damned cheesy poofs and he wanted everyone to stop telling him he was essentially more desirable now that he'd lost weight. Eric hadn't wanted to lose weight! It wasn't a choice to 'better' himself. It was because he'd spent two weeks eating next to nothing, sitting in the sand, and building stupid little palm huts with the others or joining in on their group bonding activities.

The small miracle? The God damned Jew. He was the only one who was really honest. No shame in telling Eric he looked like shit, he looked weird, that he didn't look right. Sure, they were insults, and Eric almost always rose to his bait but it was validation that no, Eric's weight loss wasn't some positive thing he should be applauded for. But despite the insults and their fighting, Kyle had the tendency to tip some of his share of food into Eric's coconut. Or stand close beside him while he tipped a small handful of sticky, colourful skittles into his hand without anyone else looking. Eric initially accused Kyle of pitying him, but the redhead had snorted and said he'd never pity Eric's fat ass, he just needed to make sure his main insult was still true.

And that had gone on for the last week or so. With the close proximity and slow days making this whole ordeal feel longer, despite their fighting, Eric had a god damned childish crush on the ginger, sun freckled fuckhead. Stan had been pissing him off about it for the last little while, encouraging him to act on it. Mocking him. Making stupid kissy faces at the two of them when they talked. Kenny was no better, with his lewd comments and drawings in the sand.

Eric was relaxing in the communal hut that was the raft, the others enjoying a sunset swim, or yoga, or whatever faggy shit they were doing together. It wasn't often he got any alone time, considering people always gravitated to anyone who wanted to be left to their own devices. But it was short lived, the palm flap opening and a familiar head of red curls poked its head inside. Eric groaned, putting down the goth kid's copy of Catcher in the Rye. "What do you want, Jew Boy?" Eric asked, sitting up after folding down a corner of the book.

"Come with me, fat ass. You'll like this." Kyle said, rolling his eyes and motioning for Eric to follow. He did so, sliding out the raft and noting that it seemed to be slightly less plump than it had been. Deflating slowly, it seemed. Eric made a mental note to tell someone to check for a hole or something. Either way, if it deflated, the vinyl would act as a floor. His thoughts on it vanished, though, favouring instead to stare down at Kyle's ass in his thinning underwear. The Jew's whole body was covered in freckles now, and Eric could see them on his butt through the thin fabric. They covered him from head to toe, now. Up his thighs, along his back and shoulders. Kyle had been moaning about getting skin cancer because of them, but Eric found himself-oddly enough- enjoying staring at them. Though Eric was curious as to what the slight swelling in his arms was from... "Stop staring at my ass and come on, fuck," Kyle whispered, looking like they were supposed to be sneaking.

"You know no one is around, right?" Eric nodded behind them, following Kyle into the island's jungle. Eric turned to look at them all, most of them down by the beach where they'd lit a fire. Bebe, Ike, and Kenny danced around it in skirts of palms and grass, faces covered in mud as if they were acting out some spiritual ritual. Everyone was going nuts, Eric figured they probably were. In front of him, Kyle shrugged. "Still, I wanna keep this a secret for now."

Eric rolled his eyes, and followed silently behind him. The view was nice, Kyle looking good in the fading sunlight. "Why not ask your new BFF Stan to go on this adventure?" Eric asked when they were stalled, Kyle struggling to pull himself up a rock. Eric came up behind him, grabbing his ass and hoisting him up. Kyle kicked his head on the way up, playing it as an accident but by now, Eric knew better. "You're welcome," Eric huffed, offering up a hand when Kyle was settled so he could help Eric get a grip and yank himself up. "Thanks," the ginger smirked, before continuing. "He wouldn't like it. Would tell me it was unethical or something. He's only just starting to eat a bit of fish. And that's only because I keep telling him he'll die if all he eats is fruit and coconuts."

So whatever Kyle had come across was edible. Now he had Eric's full attention. It had to be good, otherwise Kyle wouldn't have wasted his time to come make this stupid trek again. "It's just up hear, in these rocks," Kyle explained, hopping over a couple of fallen logs covered in creepers. He was growing excited now, darting ahead quickly and Eric had to trot to keep up. Eric was taller, but Kyle's strides were longer. By the time Eric got closer, Kyle had stopped and was gathering up some green foliage, before lighting it on fire. It smoked instantly, and Kyle waved it around and between a large split in a rock.

"Bees, dude?" Eric asked, laughing. Kyle looked incredibly excited when Eric caught on. The brunet waved some smoke away from his face, standing beside Kyle to peer into the crack. The flame from Kyle's quick torch illuminated thousands of smoked bees, stumbling lazily on their honey comb. Eric could spot a small chunk missing, where Kyle must have tried to make a grab at it. "I came back for a lighter. I don't know why I thought they wouldn't be pissed if I tried to just grab some," Kyle explained. "This place is making me stupid. But man, look. I don't know why none of us thought of it sooner. Obviously there had to be bees, right? Otherwise how would there be flowers and fruit and shit. I don't know much about bees, but I do know honey is an amazing anti-bacterial and anti-inflammation agent. And also delicious." Eric held up a hand to signal for Kyle to shut up, relax a minute. He did, but Eric got a glare for it. Eric took the torch, holding it in the crack and filling the space with smoke before he handed it back. Either this would go smoothly, or Eric was about to discover he was allergic to bees, die, and never get a piece of Jewish ass.

The idea of sweet, syrupy honey was worth the risk.

Eric reached in, shoving his fingers in the sticky, waxy comb and grabbing a chunk. On the palm of his hand, he felt the stings instantly as some bees got caught between their comb and his palms, others whizzing out between his fingers and bouncing stupidly off the rock and hive. "Fuck," he hissed, jumping back as he dumped it into his other palm. "I hope I'm not allergic." Kyle stared at him as if he was an idiot. Not an uncommon look from him. "You mean you don't know if you're allergic to bees?!" Eric shook his head, shaking the three dead bees that gave their lives to protect what Eric stole off his hand. It was swelling instantly, but the honey on his hands seemed to help sooth it. "You're a fucking idiot."

"Got some, though. I feel fine, I think I'm good." In his hand, Eric looked down to see the chunk of honey comb he'd pulled off. He hadn't crushed it, which was nice. It looked like the honeycomb sold for ten bucks a pop at the few farmers markets he'd been too. Raising his stung hand to his mouth, Eric licked some off before moaning. "Fuck, this is almost as good as the skittles." There was nothing comparable to artificial fruit flavours and high fructose corn syrup, but this was pretty close. Eric's body was craving sugars, and this was downright heavenly. Kyle laughed, taking a seat against a palm. "I thought your fat ass would like it," he said. Eric sat down beside him, holding his hands out to share. With careful fingers, Kyle broke a part of the honey comb apart and popped the whole thing into his mouth. Now it was Eric's turn to stare at him like he was an idiot. Wax and all, really? Eric was pretty sure you weren't supposed to eat that shit.

"What?" Kyle asked, mouth full and chewing. He grabbed a lead off the ground and spat a wad of spit covered wax into it. "Trust me, it's good that way. Haven't you ever had those wax bottles with the candy syrup in it when you were a kid?"

"No, that's fucking weird and torturous. What kind of candy is made out of fucking wax? Weird Jew candy?" Kyle just scoffed, grabbing another chunk of it and shoving it into Eric's mouth. Eric's first instinct was to spit it out, but one bite into it..? Eric felt like everything he knew was a lie. Each chew pushed more of the honey out of the comb, strangely satisfying and incredibly amazing to taste. Eric felt like he was eating something substantial. Almost. The honey was soon gone, however, leaving the wax balled up in his mouth. Kyle was already devouring another, larger chunk of comb.

Eric spat the wax out onto the leaf, Kyle doing the same and going in for another piece. Eric yanked his hand away. "Calm yourself, greedy Jew. Don't be a stereotype." Kyle punched him in the shoulder, snatching a large chunk all the same. It left Eric with a size that was approximately the same as a Mars bar. Eric had shoved more in his mouth before, and stuffed the entire thing in so Kyle wouldn't be able to get anymore. Cheeks puffed with honey and wax, Kyle glared at him. Around his own mouthful, Eric smirked proudly. Kyle spat out his wad of wax, eyes narrowing as he grabbed hold of Eric's hand and brought it to his mouth. Eric didn't have time to realize what was happening before Kyle had sucked his middle and index finger into his gob. Eric nearly choked. He coughed the wax out, eyes wide as he watched and... felt Kyle lick the honey off his fingers. He looked fucking smug, and Eric figured he must have looked like a damn fool. His brain seemed to turn off, and Eric opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Kyle removed his fingers from his mouth and licked up his palm. Eric let out a rather undignified noise, Kyle making slow work of cleaning his hand free of the sticky substance. For a brief moment, Eric thanked the weight loss for making his pants loose and hiding his arousal. Not that the Jew wasn't smart enough to see it on his face, judging by the satisfied look on his own. Kyle was back to sucking at Eric's fingers, tongue lapping at the honey on his pinky and ring finger. It had been a while since Eric had sex, and Eric's mind was long gone into the gutter now.

When Kyle finished, after what felt like both an eternity and not long enough, Eric stared at him. Specifically, at the glistening plump lips. A few long seconds past, and Eric couldn't hold it back any longer. With both hands, Eric grabbed Kyle's face and yanked him forward. Those lips were his. Hell, the whole damn ginger Jew was his. Eric was calling dibs now.

The kiss was far from graceful or romantic. It was sticky, wet. Bruising. Eric sucked hard at Kyle's lower lip, tasting honey and fruit and sea salt. But the moan the redhead made into his lips was one that Eric had to thank God for. Eric buried a hand in the tight red curls, the other moving to pull Kyle into his lap. For once, Eric was pleased as punch to be on this God-forsaken island. He tugged at Kyle's roots, settling his other hand on the curve of Kyle's ass. He dug his fingers in the flesh, pressing Kyle harder against him as he ground his hips upwards. Between them, Kyle slipped his hands downwards to fiddle with the worn leather belt that held Eric's pants up. He fumbled for several minutes, Eric distracting him by kissing down his throat. The sounds he made were delicious.

When Kyle managed to finally pull the belt loose and pop the buttons open, he pulled away and hooked his fingers in the waistband. "I can suck something else," he suggested, voice a wonderful mixture of feigned innocence and suggestion. He didn't wait for Eric to answer, either, as he moved from Eric's lap to kneel between his legs. Kyle laughed as Eric tilted his head against the tree and thanked God.

The others had retreated to bed, some off in their own hut, others in the raft. Craig and Stan were the only ones awake, waiting by the fire, sipping at coconut water and making light small talk. Earlier, Stan had asked Craig if he'd seen where Kyle went. Craig gestured to the island's interior, letting him know they'd snuck off together. Since then, Stan had insisted on staying awake to wait for them to come home. He reminded Craig of a parent, waiting up for their kid coming home from a date or something. Not that Craig really knew what that was like, but he imagined it was something like this. Someone sitting, staring, waiting. Occasionally they made small talk, but Craig wasn't here to talk. He was here to watch. Wait for Kyle to come back with the racist twatwaffle so Craig could point at him and call him out on being a filthy slut.

"Man, it's been a while. What if one of them killed the other. Kyle's an angry little fucker. But Eric's killed before, sort of..." Stan said, and Craig looked at him. What? Craig debated asking. But for some reason, he knew Stan was going to explain anyway. "Once, when I first started working with him, we flew this little brat home from private school in the UK for the Christmas holiday's. He tried to pull one over on Cartman. When we flew back, he had Kenny put on Silence of the fucking Lambs for the inflight entertainment. Fed the kid chili. Normal shit, right? Until Eric told him it was made from his fucking parents."

If Craig hadn't seen Kenny die and resurrect three times now, he'd call bullshit. But the horrified look on Stan's face, amplified by the glow of the fire, made Craig a believer of that story. "Yeah... I don't think they've killed each other. I think they just snuck away for a quickie..." Craig spoke slowly, and Stan relaxed slightly. After a few minutes of silence, they heard something rustle in the trees. Stan stood up, alert in an instant. Craig watched as his chest puffed out, standing large as if he was ready to fight or assert himself as the dominant male or something. Craig couldn't care less. He figured it was Kyle and Cartman, and if it was some beast or whatever, Craig welcomed his demise with open arms. This place was getting real boring.

"Where have you two been?" Stan asked the second Kyle and Cartman stumbled into the light. What a stupid fucking question. Cartman looked smug, Kyle was flushed in the face and looked like he'd been drinking. The fact they were holding hands was a dead giveaway. But they dropped them the instant they saw Stan and Craig looking at their hands. "Nowhere," Kyle said the same time Cartman grunted, "none of your business, hippy." Behind Stan, Craig lifted his hand up and made a loose fist, moving it back and forth beside his cheek as his tongue poked the inside of his other one. Kyle gave him a nasty look, and Stan whipped around and Craig dropped his hand and looked as innocent as possible. The captain totally saw, though. Not that Craig made all that much of an effort to hide it. Stan looked like he was going through about a million emotions.

"We're going to bed, if you'd excuse us," Eric said, motioning for Kyle to go first with a smack on the ass before brushing past Stan. Stan looked proud, shocked, scandalized, all sorts of things at once. When they were gone, he sat back down, shoulders slumping. "You...alright?" He asked, and instantly he regretted it. He prayed that Stan wasn't going to give him some sob story. "Yeah, I mean, I knew they were into each other. But they're both my friends so I don't want them to fuck each other over." Craig sucked back the last bit of coconut water in his shell, tossing it into the pile that needed to be gutted in the morning. "They're adults," Craig said, tone flat. "It's not your concern. Stay out of it, the more people get involved in shit like that, the more problems there are." If they wanted to fuck around, it was their own problem. Craig didn't give a shit, really. He didn't like Cartman, but that didn't mean he was going to start telling Kyle to not fuck with him. Wasn't his place. All Craig was gonna do was call him a hoe, and give him a slap on the shoulder for getting laid. Like a good friend should.

Stan nodded in agreement, though. He scooted on the log, sitting beside him and resting his head against Craig's arm. Craig stared down at him, confused as all hell. His body tensed, wondering what possessed Stan to get all close. "Do you think it'll be like, a thing? Or just a one time thing?" Stan asked, sounding kind of sulky. "I hope it's a thing and not just a one time thing. Cartman could use a bit of grounding..." Craig was not meant for this kind of shit. Why was Stan still talking like he cared about it? So long as Kyle was fine, he couldn't give a shit where his dick went. Craig felt Stan's face move against his bicep, tilting up to look at him. He looked like a blue eyed, bearded puppy. Soft and full of emotions. He didn't know how to react. "I find you attractive and that's making me uncomfortable." Craig blurted, before feeling horrified. He thanked the heavens that his voice sounded just as monotonous as it always did. He could pass it off as being sarcastic, maybe? But Stan was grinning, like it was a compliment or some shit. Craig stood up quickly, knocking Stan out of place a little and he tipped off the log. "I'm going to bed." He tried to keep his voice as straight as possible, before climbing into the raft. He stepped on someone in the process, grumbling a sorry as he made his way to his and Tweek's usual spot.

He didn't sleep, simply stared up at the weaved palms in horror as he replayed his slip up over and over. God damn it.