Perchance to Dream
Disclaimer: See prologue
Summary: It's been quiet. Too quiet…
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At Home IV
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For the entirety of the rest of the fall semester, there was no sign of Kyle. He didn't make good on a single one of his threats to either come down himself or have "minions" of his harass me. Then again, he may have, but I was too busy being places-other-than-my-room to care. I spent most of my time hanging around Bebe and Kelly, for the most part either eating with them or fucking with them (or just watching them fuck). When I could be bothered to return to my room (usually just to grab a different textbook and occasionally to sleep), I did have the minor annoyance for most of the semester of Matt and his far too persistent quest to prove I'm not straight.
It took him until late October to fully abandon the theory that I was gayer than him he'd been fed by Kyle. Apparently, there's only so many times a "gay" guy can have wild sex parties with not one but TWO girls before he ceases to be gay. About that time, he started spouting some bullshit about the company I keep showing what I really am: a hypocritical self-denying bisexual. His reasoning? I secretly like it up the ass and I hang out with hot lesbians while bashing gay people.
Of course, this is easily refutable by the fact that everybody would hang out with hot lesbians if they could, and Matt's probably just jealous as hell that I am and he's not. Also, they're lesbians, not gay people.
Anyway, Matt aside, my first semester was oddly pleasant. I did well in my classes (As and Bs), the football team actually got it together and played in the Holiday Bowl (though they did get spanked by Nebraska again, but that's the Big 12 for you), and I met a whole bunch of awesome people through my relationships with Bebe and Kelly and my friendship with about half the guys from SPHS. They were, for the most part, my ticket into the frat parties on campus. Yay underage drinking and wild drunken hook-ups!
Now that it's over, though, I have to return to South Park for a month. Undoubtedly I'll skedaddle back to Boulder as soon as I can, thanking God for starting spring classes the week of January 11 and limiting the time I have to spend anywhere near Kyle. The drive back is pleasant enough, though blindingly white in places from the foot or so of snow that's already on the ground.
Of course, that pleasant feeling dissipates faster than a flash rave once I turn onto my street. Because there is a car parked in front of my house that does not belong there. And leaning against that car like he's still King of the Goddamned universe is Kyle. And as I drive closer, I believe I can discern the fact that he's smirking at me. This does not bode well. As I pull into the driveway, Mom and Dad both come out of the house to greet me, and Kyle makes his way up the drive. I get out of the car with a neutral expression on my face, my eyes blazing with a hidden fury.
"Welcome home, Stanley!" Mom shouts, waving at me as she runs to embrace me. I can't say I blame her, I haven't been home in six months. I hug her back, and get a pat on the back from Dad.
"We'll take your stuff inside, son," Dad says. "See you later tonight! Your Mom's making casserole!"
I look at them, confused for a moment until Kyle comes up and puts his arm around my shoulders. Obviously he got it into their heads that we've got plans for tonight. We don't…or rather, didn't, since we quite obviously do now.
"OK Dad," I reply, trying hard not to flinch at Kyle's touch and not entirely succeeding.
"Enjoy the party, Stanley!" Mom says, my laundry bag already in her hands. Party? Oh, brilliant.
"I will!" Unless the party is in Kyle's pants. Judging from my recent experiences with Kyle, it probably is. I may enjoy ruining the party, in that case. Kyle steers me towards his car and all but buckles me in.
"Welcome back!" he says cheerfully as he starts it up.
Less cheerfully, I reply. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Welcoming you home from college?" he tries.
"No," I reply. "Dragging me away from home by feeding some cock-and-bull story to my parents about some sort of party."
"Oh but we are going to a party," Kyle said.
"Oh really?" I ask, somewhat snidely. "You mean you're not going to drag me to the Super 8 and tie me to the bed and have your way with me again?"
Kyle glared. "First, you accepted the bet. Second, yes, a party. Some of the guys are having a get together at Shakey's now that all the exams are done."
"And how exactly did you wrangle an invite to it?" I ask. Kyle chuckles. Oh, this won't be good.
"Money and girls, Stan. It's not like any of them are shining beacons of moral fortitude. Give people what they want, you'll find people are most willing to forgive past transgressions." I stare open-mouthed at him for several silent moments.
"I can't believe you," I say finally. "You bribed them just so you could use them as cover to get closer to me without any reprisal beatings from our old friends."
"They don't care about my motives, Stan!" Kyle exclaims with a fairly malevolent chuckle. "They care about what I can do for them. Just like during high school. For Token, it was a bid to the most prestigious fraternities on campus. For Craig and Clyde, bids to any fraternity. For Tweek, effective control of a small coffee distribution company. For Kenny, subsidies to help fund his courtship of one Miss Testaburger. And for Cartman…" at this point, Kyle makes a face. "Well, you'd probably rather not know what it took to get Cartman to forgive me."
"Was it degrading, sadistic, and utterly humiliating to you?" I ask.
"Duh, it's Cartman."
"Then yes, I want to know every last detail," I say with a glare. Kyle glares back.
"Control of a chain of Kosher beef slaughterhouses that he turned into pork slaughterhouses. And ten grand on top of that. And four blonde girls on top of that. And he made me watch him do all four of them on his bed covered in the ten grand."
I grin. "Have I mentioned lately how much I like Cartman?"
"You're a dick, Stan," Kyle replies. "You know that?"
"I do," I reply. "I also know that you like dicks. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of me, even though you can't stand me."
"It's not that I can't stand you," Kyle shoots back, "it's that you're apparently incapable of being a mature guy and insist on making juvenile gay jokes any time I try to be serious with you."
"I haven't been scolded since I was eight," I inform him. "And I'm not about to start again, especially not by you."
"Well then stop being a total asshole for a few minutes and maybe I'll stop."
"Stop trying to buy your way into my pants and maybe I'll stop," I shoot back.
"I'm not trying to buy my way into your pants," Kyle replies, pulling into the parking lot. "Besides, I already know how to get in your pants. I just have to make a ridiculous bet with you."
"That only worked once and it shouldn't have worked then," I reply. "I just wanted to be rid of you."
"Well, that didn't work, did it?" Kyle asked snidely. "Now come on, let's go eat."
"Fine. But you act like we're all butt-buddies in there, I will drown you in the ball pit, I swear to God."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Stanley," Kyle warns me, getting out of the car. Reluctantly, I follow.
When we walk in, it's easy to see where the rest of the guys are assembled, since there's a fairly conspicuous lack of tables near the entrance, because they've been pushed together close to the buffet. No doubt that was Cartman's doing, even though he's already got two XL pizzas in front of him that he's not sharing with anyone.
"Hey guys!" I say, breaking away from Cartman and hurrying to the table, claiming a seat next to Kenny, leaving Kyle to sit across from me. If he tries playing footsie with me, I'm going to break his legs.
Forty-five minutes is wasted updating me on things I missed out on while I was taking my summer classes. Apparently Token and Clyde managed to get a couple of sophomores arrested for breaking into the old train station on a dare, and Tweek and Craig orchestrated the massive Fourth of July fireworks display that this year culminated in a series of smiley-face fireworks framing a big middle-finger display, and Cartman foiled a Mexican plot to tunnel through America and destroy Canada – by falling into the tunnel since he's so damn fat.
Thirty minutes later, Cartman smacks the ass of a waitress and we all get thrown out. Kyle drives me home, and then insists on following me in. I try to slam the door in his face, but he's quicker than I would think from him and he catches it with his foot and his hand, forcing it back open and himself inside.
"Stanley, is that you honey?" Mom asks, coming in from the kitchen. "Oh, and Kyle too! Home early?"
"Yeah, Fatass got us thrown out of Shakey's," I mutter. "Is supper ready? I only got through with one piece before then."
"I just took it out of the oven, actually," Mom says. "Is Kyle staying for dinner too? It's just so good to see you two boys hanging out together again." Damnit. Kyle's co-opted my parents too. I can't just get rid of him, or else she'll accuse me of being rude and anti-social. But if he stays for dinner, he's going to get the impression that I'm OK with him being around me for long periods of time, which I'm not. Especially since Mom will inevitably sit him next to me.
"Uhh…" I stammer, like a total idiot. "I suppose, unless he's got to get home," I say, stressing the words that I would rather hear from Kyle's mouth and wishing I had eyes in the back of my head so I could glare at him.
"No, I'd love to stay," Kyle says, and I know instinctively he's got on his face that winning grin, but that at the same time on the inside he's smirking up a storm. Undoubtedly, afterwards he'll attempt to come to my room with me. I won't let that happen. He's won three battles, but he won't win the war.
By the time dinner's over, I'm nearly ready to puke. Apparently while I've been hiding away in Boulder, Kyle's been coming home to South Park and feeding my parents a load of bull about how he's done me all these favors, and gotten all these friends (the ones I had before and only got back after I showed them that he was a giant homo, he had no active role in it whatsoever and he knows it). They think he's been helping me. They've been praising him, and it's all I can do to make myself agree with them without my mom's delicious casserole reversing its course through my digestive tract.
"That was delicious as ever, Mrs. Marsh," Kyle compliments, and that's it for me.
"Excuse me, Mom, Dad," I say, rising from the table and making for the upstairs bathroom. Thank God there's going to be leftovers, there always is. I hurl. The casserole, the pizza, even remnants of my lunch all comes back up. Once I finish, I wash up and open the door to come face-to-face with Kyle.
"You alright?" he asks innocently, a curious and concerned expression plastered on his face.
I deck him.
"Get the fuck out of my house. Now."
"What the fuck was that for?"
"You just literally made me sick. You're a real piece of work, Broflovski. You have no concern for anything but your own twisted goals. Spare no expense, tell any lie, corrupt anybody that you have to, so long as you get what you want. I want you out of my house, and out of my life. And so help me God, if you ever try to get involved with anything involving me again, you will regret it. And it won't be pretty."
Kyle wants to argue back. I can see that he does. To discourage him, I raise my fist again. He sighs in frustration and slinks off. I walk into my room, slam the door, and pound my fist against it.
He's not going to give up on this. It's not in his nature. He's a tenacious son-of-a-bitch, and I've never known him to give up on anything in his life. Unfortunately for me, that means that since he's got a burning desire in his Jewish loins to be inside me, he's not going to stop until I've finally acquiesced.
No matter what he has to do.
Now I'm terrified.
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Notes: Boom, bitches! Sorry about the large time-skip between the last chapter and this one, but it's kind of a necessity so that we can get to the real meaty part of this story. The climax is in sight (bow-chicka-bow-wow)! Next chapter will also have a timeskip, but will set us up for the two (yes, two!) climactic chapters.
The ETA on the next chapter is somewhere around mid-July. I've got a 4 day weekend coming up in 3 weeks, so maybe I can make some headway there, but I won't guarantee an update then.
Later!
Phoenix II