A/N: I love you guys. The moment I say 'hay what kinda porn do you guys want' you all fly outta the woodwork pft. Got a ton of messages with ideas, and I sadly will not be doing all of them, but a decent amount. Some of them are ideas I'm just really uncomfortable with or really don't know how to make them work all that well, so they'll be omitted. If one of your ideas is in that category, I'm really sorry but...I'm not going to write something that makes me really uncomfortable I'm sorry T_T /is a giant pussy

All righty, let's keep it on. Enjoy~

The gentle sounds of muddled conversations rang in his ears as he walked behind the bar, sweeping up an array of straws and cocktail napkins that people had somehow managed to push over onto his side. He swore under his breath, his eyes glancing up to the clock up above the taps. Twenty minutes. Twenty more minutes and he could go home.

Stan sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm, his eyes fleeting along his bar for any patrons that needed him. Luckily enough, it didn't seem to be the case. Working a nine hour shift never did him any good. His back was locked and his feet were killing him as they walked the tiled floor in the worn soles of his old converse. His mind kept fleeting from work even as he had been mixing cocktails and dispensing beers and breaking up fights the past four days.

The whole scenario of what had transpired with Cartman was still raging in his mind. He bit his lip every time he thought about it, knowing that Kyle only had possibly three days left before the glutton fed him out to the sharks. It was unnerving and it certainly didn't help matters that he was surrounded by the quick-term solution on all sides and couldn't help himself to a shot now and again. Though as shitty as the entire thing made him feel, he knew that four straight bottles of Jack probably couldn't make him feel any better.

"Well I didn't know that they let strippers work in the real world," a familiar voice perked up as he swept. He turned and saw Craig Tucker sitting at the bar with a raised, amused brow.

Great.

He sighed, pushing his broom to the far wall and walking up in front of him, placing his hands down on the bar tiredly. "Whaddya want?"

He snorted, "Wow, what patronage. Remind me to tell your manager to recommend you for employee of the month for your sunny disposition."

Stan chuckled a bit and shook his head, "Considering that the only other bartender could probably kill our boss if he wanted to, I don't think I have much of a chance regardless of the weight your word carries."

He shrugged, "Well I was just tryin' to be nice."

He rolled his eyes, "That's a hell of a change of pace for you. Now, what the hell do you want because I only have fifteen minutes left on my shift and I still need to clean up."

Craig scoffed and shrugged, "Beer on tap. Surprise me...," he paused. "Nothing under two dollars and nothing over ten," he clarified.

"Oh, so, every beer? You really think you can get beer for under two dollars?" he snorted, grabbing a mug and turning towards the taps, picking one at random and tipping the glass underneath the pouring amber.

Craig shrugged again, "Never know, I don't trust bars that have such shitty choices in their workforce."

Stan looked back at him and cocked his brow, "Remember that I can easily just hock a loogie in your alcohol, Tucker."

He rolled his eyes, "Wouldn't be the worst thing of yours I've had in my mouth." Stan burst into laughter, pulling his mug out and handing it over to the boy, who took a long swig, setting it back down on the bar with a contented sigh. Stan glanced down around his bar, seeing everyone content to themselves and leaning against the counter in front of Craig. The boy started up, "So. Haven't seen ya in a while."

Stan shrugged, "Been working like crazy. Gotta pay the goddamn bills somehow."

He nodded in agreement, tonguing over his lips. "When do ya get off?"

He rolled his eyes, "I literally just told you in about fifteen minutes." Craig blinked before snorting a bit at himself and nodding, taking another sip. Stan felt his arm sticking to the polished surface under him a bit and grimaced. "Why?"

Craig looked at him and and shrugged, "Bored. Wanted to know if you wanted to bang."

"Tactful," he raised his brow, leaning up off the counter and grabbing a damp rag behind him, swabbing off the bar and lowering his eyes to his work. Sex was literally the last thing on his mind right now. Even the idea of jerking off just sounded so unappealing with everything that he'd heard last weekend. He flickered his gaze up to see grey eyes staring back at him expectantly. "Nah," he finally answered, shaking his head. "I'm just really tired and not in the mood."

"Well fine," he scoffed. "Need me to pick ya up some tampons?"

"Well excuse me for not being the hormonal express," he retorted dryly. "Been a long day, Craig. 'Sides, you and I haven't done anything in like, half a year or some shit."

"And I wanted to relive the glory days," he joked. "Just thought I'd ask..." he paused and stared at the boy inquisitively.

Stan stopped his cleaning and returned the expression, "What?"

"So...bit of a personal question," Craig looked to see the other patrons on the other side of the bar not paying attention to them before turning back to Stan's gaze. "You ever messed around with the gay clubs in town?"

He shook his head, "Nah. Tried once a few months ago but I just felt really awkward and I left. I deal with enough drunken bastards here," he gestured around aimlessly.

Craig eyes sparked a bit deviously and Stan backed off a little, not used to seeing such a gleam in the usual monotonous hue. "So...you haven't heard about the new guy?"

"What...what new guy?" he narrowed his eyes at him confusedly.

He leaned forward more and took a long chug of his beer, staring at the bitter nectar with a small smirk playing on his lips. "Apparently word on the street is there's some new gay hooker that's gonna start runnin' around."

Stan's heart practically stopped in his chest, his fingers clenching tightly around the rag under his hand. He tried his best to keep his cool, "Really? Why is that big news? So there's another slut out there, big deal," he inwardly winced. Good thing Kyle wasn't around to hear that, or the bigger threat of Kenny. The blonde probably would have knocked his lights out at that word.

Craig raised his brow, "Because there's literally three gay hookers in this small-ass town. And two of them are over goddamn forty. Apparently this new guy is our age and a twink like no other."

Stan nodded slowly, that feeling of shame of finding Kyle's video on a twink site bubbling up once again. "That's all you've heard?"

Craig shook his head, "Heard he's like, super small. Total slut like no other. I think I heard he's a redhead, too, which hey, that's pretty fuckin' rare, not to mention hot," he chuckled.

Stan's heart was beating wildly in his chest, his face burning with the words spilling out of Craig's mouth. This couldn't be good if word about him was already spreading out so fast. "Where'd you hear about him?"

He shrugged, "One of the night clubs downtown," he waved towards the door dismissively. "Apparently his first job is being bid for for next Friday night." Stan raised his brow apprehensively, his mind narrowing on Cartman. He had to forcefully shut down a growl trying to worm its way out of his throat. The bastard wasn't kidding when he said he could get Kyle auctioned off like a fresh piece of meat. Craig calmly continued, "It's weird, Man. This kid is getting talked about everywhere in our little fag home. I've heard about him at every goddamn club, given we only have two, but still. Apparently he's being talked about in the BDSM club on the outskirts of town, too," he shrugged.

Stan's stomach twisted and he gulped. His teeth grated the inside of his bottom lip. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. Cartman was working around like crazy trying to get word out, but if there was anyone who could do it, Stan knew that it would definitely be him. He noticed Craig just staring at him and cleared his throat, "But...why are they making such a big deal out of him?" he asked. "I mean, yeah, low supply or whatever but...why?"

Craig chuckled, "Apparently someone's been talking him the fuck up. He told like, one guy who told three and it just spread around like crazy. Not too many twenty year old boys are lying back waiting to be fucked by another dude," he shrugged casually. "People are jumping at the chance. I heard the price is already going pretty high, and there's still another week left," he raised his brow.

Stan sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair and glancing back up at the clock. Five minutes thank fucking god. He looked back at Craig tiredly, "Why'd you tell me?"

"Figured you're as much of a raging homo as any of 'em, thought you might wanna put your name in the hat."

"Did you?" he raised his brow.

He nodded, "Yeah. Pretty curious and I have a decent amount of money put away from the factory..." he paused, "Oh yeah that reminds me, you gonna see McCormick anytime soon?" Stan nodded softly, knowing that despite his aching body he was running straight to Ken and Kyle's apartment with the information that'd just been spilled out to him. "Tell him I got him an interview," he said.

Stan's heart leapt with hope, "Really?" he nearly squeaked. It was too good to be true. Maybe Kenny could whisk Kyle out of the land of debauchery in the nick of time with a job.

"Yeah, got a pen?" he asked. Stan grabbed the one out of his apron pocket and handed it over, watching as Craig snagged a cocktail napkin and hurriedly scribbled down the information. "It's tomorrow afternoon at two," he said, handing the pen and napkin back to him. "Put in all the good word I could for him, so we'll have to see how it goes," he shrugged.

"Thanks, Dude. Ken and Ky really need it," he chuckled breathlessly, stroking the precious napkin with his thumb. A saving grace. It was the most beautiful piece of flimsy beer-stained paper that he'd ever seen in his life. He tucked it away safely in the pocket of his jeans and grinned at Craig widely. "This is gonna make them so goddamn happy you don't even know."

He rolled his eyes bemusedly, "Well Ken already knows that he's my bitch if he gets the job. I know they're having a lot of problems right now with money and shit."

"You have no idea," Stan muttered, sighing tiredly.

"Marsh, your shift iz over!" a voice called before a tall, tanned boy stepped up beside him behind the bar.

Stan smirked, tearing off his apron and stretching, "Ah, Christophe, my knight in beer-soaked armor."

The brunette scoffed and rolled his eyes, snagging his own apron from under the bar. "Anyz'ing I should know about?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "Pretty standard night..." 'Work-wise at least,' he thought. He turned to Craig, "Hey, you got that beer on my shift, so you need to pay up. Eight bucks."

Craig rolled his eyes and tossed him a crumpled ten out of his pocket, "Keep the change."

"Gee, thanks," he chuckled, walking over to the register and grabbing two bills out. Christophe walked over to him and he looked up at him confusedly, "What?"

"What iz up your ass?" he raised his brow. "You are tense as sheet."

Stan gulped. Christophe had always been an expert at seeing through anyone trying to pass themselves off as collected. It'd prevented many a bar brawl in their time working together, that was for damn sure. "Just been a long-ass night is all, Tophe," he chuckled nervously. "Have fun closing with these fuckers," he waved his hand towards the barflies dismissively. "I'll see you on Sunday."

"Lucky sheet, always getting ze weekend off," he rolled his eyes bemusedly. "Are you sucking ze manager's deeck or what?"

Stan teasingly put a finger to his lips as he stepped out of their confinement, "What happens in that office is for me and my man to know about." Christophe gave a curt laugh and waved him away. "See ya around, Craig."

"See ya, remember what I said about our little redheaded friend," he toasted his beer towards him a bit. "Not too late to dip your hands in that shit." Stan shuddered, forcing a smile on his face and quickly making his way out of the door, being blasted with the frigid evening air. He shivered again, tightly grasping his apron in his hands, keeping the pockets full of his tips closed off with his fingers as he made way to his truck. This was insane, Kyle was a topic of gossip and no one even knew that it was him. Stan bit his lip, he knew that one person being 'escorted' by him would blow the whistle on him entirely, this thing was going to absolutely destroy any chance of a decent reputation that Kyle had. He grabbed his keys and clenched them tightly in his palm, feeling the jagged edges digging into his skin as he shook his head slowly. This awkward situation was turning even more disgustingly uncomfortable at every turn...But he had to tell them.

"Jew, you're going to do this and you're going to do it now," Cartman's demanded, his voice cutting through the small apartment like a machete. A digital camera dangled from his plump wrist, his fingers wrapped genially around it.

Kyle looked up at him from his and Kenny's couch with a snide glare, "Why the fuck should I?!"

"Because I am your boss and I said so!" he glared.

Kenny jumped to his feet and sneered, "Not many bosses keep their jobs when they ask their employees to get naked, Fatass!" he screamed.

Cartman groaned, rubbing his forehead with an angry muttering escaping his lips. "I didn't ask him to get naked. I told him to take off his fucking shirt and turn around. It is literally a picture of his back and that's it!" He looked at Kyle with an evil glare, "The back of your head is kind of important in this fucking business, Kahl!"

"UGH!" Kyle let out exhaustively, throwing his embarrassed face into his palms and shaking his head. "Why do you need this picture?"

"Because right now all I have is word of mouth," he said lowly, tapping his foot. "I'm going to show them this one little piece of you. That's it. Besides, you've had your dick hanging out for fucking videos so I don't think you should be so much of a pussy about your goddamn back!"

Kyle got to his feet and gritted his teeth. "It's not that. It's the fact that it's you that I'm having to do this for!"

Cartman let out a long and aggravated sigh. "Would you feel better if I left the room and Kinny took the fucking picture?"

Kyle paused, shifting uncomfortably and looking at his boyfriend a bit. "Yeah. Yeah I would," he said quietly.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you little Jew Pansy Princess," he groaned, shoving the camera into Kenny's hands. "Take the picture, get his hair and neck and shoulders and part of his back, got it?"

"Yeah I fuckin' get it," he growled, looking nothing short of smashing Cartman's camera on the ground and slamming the brunette's corpse on the broken remains. The heavyweight just sighed irritably, heading towards their kitchen. Kenny watched him with Kyle before looking back at the little redhead with sad eyes. "Kyle?" he looked up at him with sparks of anger still shooting through the green irises. "Babe...we really don't have to-"

"Yeah, we do," he interjected. "I just...I can't fucking...submit to him, ya know?" he winced. "This whole thing is bad enough but the fact that it's him is just edging me on..." he sighed tiredly. "Let's just fucking do this," he muttered, tearing off his hat and tshirt and throwing them onto the couch.

Kenny watched the clothes being tossed over and back onto Kyle's half-bared form. "Been awhile since you've stripped in here," he chuckled humorlessly.

Kyle's face fell drastically, biting his lip and turning his back towards him. "Just...take the picture," he muttered. Kenny watched him for a bit before doing as requested. He let the camera auto-focus on the slimmed muscle of Kyle's back and shoulders. He sighed, taking a few pictures and putting the camera gently on the table. His heart dropped as he heard the clear sound of Kyle sniffling.

"Ky?" he asked softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Kyle looked back at him with tears brimming his eyes before he hurriedly looked away, crossing his arms over his bared chest and struggling to keep himself collected. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?" he coaxed, leading him to the couch and sitting him down slowly beside him.

Kyle looked at him again and shook his head, "I'm sorry that I...I never want to...a-and then I do with strangers and..." he bit his lip again. "I just feel like I'm cheating on you...constantly. I-I feel so guilty and now...now it's becoming my fucking profession."

Kenny's chest twisted painfully as he gathered the tearful redhead in his arms and held him tightly. "I know you're not cheating on me," he murmured, kissing his temple. "You know I'm not mad at you for all this shit."

"Well you should be!" he said, pushing back a bit and looking at him worriedly. "Jesus, Ken, I fuck men in front of you for money! How does that not make you want to break my neck or some shit?!"

He stared at him a minute and his eyes narrowed slightly, "Because I know you. You're not doing this for you. You're doing this for me." Kyle froze up slightly, turning red and he continued, "Ky, I'm not a fucking idiot, okay? You wouldn't give two shits if you couldn't eat or whatever, you're doing this because you don't want me to do without. Which is fucking crazy, by the fucking way. I'd much rather we be together in a goddamn homeless shelter than watch you do this time after time..." he paused and sighed, "But that's just not gonna work and we both know it."

He shied down a bit, grabbing his shirt from off the couch and twisting the fabric in his hands. "Still though..."

"Still nothin'," he said firmly. "'Sides, I kinda sorta love ya, so I ain't gonna get angry with ya fer tryin' to take care of us," he squeezed him tightly. "I can deal with not sleepin' with ya. So long as I git t' sleep next t' ya every night, that's all right."

Kyle chuckled and shook his head, "Your accent is back in full force, Dude."

"What accent?" he blinked at him.

Kyle looked up at him with a loving smile on his face, "Whenever you start getting emotional or super cheesy about us, your parents' accents breaks through like no tomorrow," he chuckled. Kenny cleared his throat and blushed awkwardly. Kyle smirked, leaning up and kissing his lips gently, holding his face in his palm. "I like it," he murmured against his mouth.

Kenny pulled back and chortled, "You like bein' with a redneck?"

He shrugged and grinned sheepishly, "I'm a redhead, so I guess that makes us the full upper body package." Kenny laughed, putting his legs on the couch around him and pulling him flush against his stomach, snuggling down into the arm of the sofa. Kyle sighed contentedly, resting his head on his chest and nuzzling down into him.

"Gross," Cartman appeared back in the archway.

"I forgot he was here," Kyle muttered angrily against Kenny's sweatshirt.

"Me, too," he sighed, looking over at the brunette. "Pictures are taken. Now get the fuck out of our house."

Cartman rolled his eyes, reaching into his work bag and pulling out a thick stack of papers and tossing them on Kyle's legs. "Fine, but you need to do these, Kahl."

Kyle grabbed the papers and glanced over them, his brow furrowing and his face beaming brightly. "The fuck is this?!" he exclaimed, his eyes finding kinks and fetishes galore in a long list about ten pages long.

"Something you need to fill out," Cartman scoffed as he put the camera into his bag. "That way you don't have a customer who expects to piss in your mouth and you run away from them."

He looked at him slowly, "So...this is for my benefit?"

He nodded, "Well, you and my bank account. Mind you you need to look at this like you'd be doing all that shit with Kinny."

"Whaddya mean?" he cocked his brow.

He groaned and shook his head, "Don't look at the fucking list like you're doing this shit with strangers. Because then you won't be willing to do fucking anything and you'll cut all our cliental right the fuck out. Cross out what even doing with Po'Boy would make you uncomfortable, all right, Jew?" He sighed and nodded tiredly, looking at the list with dulled eyes, Cartman watching him with a small smirk. "Though...from what I heard in there," he jerked his head back to the kitchen, "Seems you don't feel like doin' much of anything with him, do ya?"

"GET OUT!" Kyle shot up off of Kenny and pointed to the door, trembling with utter fury. "We're fucking done here, you Fat sack of shit! We took your fucking picture and I'll do the fucking list but I want you out of here right now!"

Cartman just chuckled at his outburst, watching the furious breathing from his chest looking like he was nearing hyperventilation. "Poor Kahl," he shook his head. "How the mighty have fallen."

"Cartman," Kenny growled in warning. "Don't. Push it."

He laughed a bit, "Yeah yeah. Oh, just so you know, Jew. You have more time."

The redhead raised his brow suspiciously, "Whaddya mean?"

"Your first job will be next Friday," he said simply.

Kyle's shoulders fell, "Cartman we need money now," he insisted. "We could wait until next Sunday but we need money for food and-OW!" he yelled as Cartman threw something and hit him in the face. He looked down at his lap, finding a wad of cash on him. "What the-"

"There's $300," he said simply. "Use it to buy yourselves some real goddamn food," he scoffed, jerking his head back towards the kitchen again. "All you have in there is goddamn Ramen."

"That's what you eat when you're poor," Kenny muttered, rubbing Kyle's shoulders as the boy continued staring down at the money in his hands. "Why're you giving us money?"

"Because I need until next Friday to get Kahl out there, and I can't have him going around just whoring himself out for you two to get some goddamn Pop-Tarts," he retorted. "I'll take it out of your cut for Friday. But trust me, with the way it's going, $300 is a pittance," he chuckled. Kenny and Kyle stared after him with wide eyes as he made his way to the door with his bag in hand. Cartman opened it and found Stan standing there with his fist raised to knock, blinking at him in shock. "Well, hello, Hippie," he smirked. "I was just on my way out," he pushed past him and Stan watched him walk towards the parking lot.

"Uh...yeah, bye to you, too," he muttered angrily. He looked back in and found the two sitting on the couch, stepping inside and raising his brow as he noticed Kyle without a shirt holding a wad of money. "So...did you just fuck Cartman or..."

Kyle looked at him with the most disgusted expression that Stan had ever seen on the boy's face. "What the fuck is the matter with you?!" he screeched, gagging a bit.

"Sorry, sorry," he raised his hands defensively, shutting their door and looking at them tiredly. "Dude...Craig was in the bar tonight."

"And?" Kenny raised his brow, rubbing the back of the still-trying-not-to-vomit redhead seated against him.

He sat down in their chair and looked at Kyle, biting his lip. "Kyle...Cartman's got word out on you already. Like, crazily."

Kyle stopped dry heaving and looked at him confusedly. "What...whaddya mean?"

Stan sat back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He said that there's word out in the gay community about...uh..." he searched for the words.

"Uh uh," Kenny shook his head at him. "Do not sugarcoat this shit. What exactly did Craig say?"

Stan dropped his gaze to the carpet, his face burning intensely as he felt both pairs of eyes practically boring into him. "He said a small redheaded twink slut," he muttered.

Silence fell over the lot before the very confusing sound of Kyle laughing broke through the air. The two of him looked over at him, stunned, and he shook his head, "Do you think I can work that title onto a resume?" he joked. Kenny snorted, kissing his head softly.

"Oh! Speaking of resumes..." Stan broke into a smile and grabbed the napkin out of his pocket, shoving it at Kenny eagerly. "Craig gotcha an interview at the factory, Dude!"

The blonde's jaw dropped, "No way."

"Uh huh!" he nodded excitedly. "Tomorrow at two. He said he talked you up as much as he possibly could."

Kyle's face broke into a wide grin and he turned, wrapping his arms around Kenny's chest and huddling into him. "Ken, this could be it!" he squealed into his warm form.

"Fuck yes it could be," Kenny returned the expression, wrapping back around him. "I'm gonna get you out of this shit, Kyle. I told you that when this mess started and I'm telling you that now. I have a good feeling about this." He rocked the boy back and forth in his arms and Stan couldn't help but smile warmly at the scene. The two of them had smiles, real smilies for the first time in what seemed like forever.

His eyes drifted to the coffee table, his sharp vision picking up some of the words spread out on the page of the list and he raised his brow. He opened his mouth to question it before looking back at the two of them, content and clinging onto each other like nothing else could possibly matter to them. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. The questions could come later, the reality of everything could let itself in at a more opportune time. The noirette couldn't be the one to tear them from maybe the first happy moment they'd had in who knew how long. For now, just three friends sitting in a living room basking in good news and the possibility of a brighter horizon looming over the situation was plenty enough for them.

A/N: I'm making Ken and Ky way too snuggly but I seriously don't care. Kyle is a dirty slut so Ken gets all the sweet parts. That is my logic and it is flawless /hairflip

Also, Christophe yes. I love him and I have a feeling he will be a Kyle buttbuddy along the way. Maybe. We'll see how my brain goes.

Thanks for R&Ring!