A/N: Here we go, let's get it on, boys aw yiss

Enjoy~

No one moved a muscle, all three sets of eyes wide open and every throat hitched with an inescapable breath. Kenny was still overtop of Kyle, both of them very aware that their jeans were undone and Kyle's cum was currently cooling on his shirt between them.

Stan took a deep breath, his jaw trembling. Every nerve was on complete fire, a burning in his chest threatening to crumple him down onto the ground. But no. No, he had to control himself before he grabbed Kenny and threw him out the window...Soon to be followed by a little redhead. He clenched his fists, letting out air through his nostrils. "Maybe you should pull your pants up," he said through clenched teeth.

Kyle's shock quickly gave way to a damnable anger at hearing Stan's voice, shaking his head out of its stupor. "And why should we?" he spat. "It's my room that you were not given permission to come into. So how about you turn the fuck around and run back to Wendy?!" he shouted.

"Ky, Ky, come on," Kenny urged, zipping up his pants and helping Kyle sit up. The redhead looked at him and sighed, redoing his own jeans and getting onto shaky feet. He grimaced, looking down at the cum drying on his shirt.

"You," he pointed at Stan. "I need to get changed so turn the fuck around."

He looked at him incredulously. "I'm sorry?" he narrowed his eyes. "I think I've seen more than just your fucking stomach, Broflovski."

He returned the expression, "Not anymore you won't, Marsh," he mocked. "I get to choose who sees me undressed and you are no longer on that list."

"Oh. No. My poor fragile heart," he rolled his eyes. "I guess Kenny took my place, then?"

He looked at him primly, "Maybe he did."

"Oh god," Kenny muttered to himself, slowly moving himself back and grabbing his flask off the nightstand, taking a long swig and hoping to God that it wouldn't be his last. Looking at Stan's face, however, he wasn't overly hopeful. He had no idea he could go from the happiest moment of his life to practically pissing his pants in fright, but by God, there it was.

"Turn, you fucker!" Kyle demanded. Stan rolled his eyes again and did so, crossing his arms and shaking his head as he stared at the door. This was goddamn ridiculous. Kyle shared a look with Kenny, putting a gentle hand on his arm and mouthing a desperate 'I'm sorry'. Kenny gave him as reassuring a smile as he could possibly muster, watching as Kyle tore off his shirt and threw it into his hamper, walking to his closet and grabbing a button-up shirt. He purposefully took his time doing it up, blinking rapidly. He didn't know what to do here. What the hell could Stan possibly want? To rub his happiness in his face? To brag at how quickly he got over him?

He took a deep breath, looking at Kenny again who looked scared for his life. Kyle couldn't exactly blame him, he wasn't feeling much different. He gulped. "Okay," he said softly. Stan turned back around, staring at the small redhead and taking an angry breath. Kyle bit his lip, "What the fuck do you want, Stan?"

"Well I wanted to talk but I guess it'd be hard with Ken's dick in your mouth, wouldn't it?" he spat.

Kyle's face burst into color and he snarled. "What I do is my fucking business, Stan. You don't fucking own me!"

"I just find it fucking funny how our friends all think that you're too 'good' of a person to fuck around so soon after we break up and yet...here I find you with Ken and your dicks hanging out!" He waved his arms above his head exasperatedly. Kenny suddenly regretted taking off his sweatshirt earlier and tossing it on Kyle's desk next to Stan, wanting nothing more than to hide in his hood for all eternity.

Kyle blinked, his eyes locking in on Stan dangerously. "Funny. I thought the same thing about you," he said lowly. "I never thought you'd run back between Wendy's fucking legs so soon, so I guess both of us were proven wrong, weren't we?"

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to break up."

"No, you were!" he shot back, moving to take a step before Kenny's hands on his shoulders stopped him. He took a deep breath, letting himself fall back beside the blonde as Stan watched in disbelief.

The noirette bit his cheek, wincing as his tooth sliced through a sliver of flesh. "So. How many times did we sleep together and you were thinkin' of him, hm?"

"Sleep together? Fucking adorable," he seethed. "More like you bent me over and just did whatever you wanted without giving a fuck about what I wanted! How many times did you fuck me and think of Wendy?" he challenged.

Kenny gulped, knowing the intense risk he faced with what he was going to do. "Guys," he said softly. He flinched as they both shot their heads at him, their anger at each other redirecting onto him. "Guys, ya need t' talk," he emphasized. "This shit ain't gonna get ya nowhere n' ya both know it."

Kyle's shoulders dropped a bit, looking at the floor guiltily. Stan, however, couldn't tense more if he tried. His deep blue eyes were ablaze with fury. His suspicions had been right the whole fucking time. Everyone kept saying he was the bad guy, but here Kyle was just as guilty. But no. Kyle was the 'victim' to their friends. And all because Kenny fucking McCormick couldn't keep his mouth shut and stay out of their business. Every talk with Wendy was shoved down, nothing circulating his mind but a fiery anger to rival that of Kyle's. "Stay out of this, McCormick," he hissed. "You're part of the fucking problem."

"No, he's not, Stan," Kyle frowned. "The problem is your ridiculous amount of jealousy over absolutely nothing."

"Oh? Nothing?" he huffed out a sarcastic laugh. "Funny. I would think that you being so willing to suck him off would be something to worry about, Kyle."

He straightened up, his humiliated flush being toned down by the pure rage burning in his eyes. "You didn't know how I felt about Ken so don't even try that bullshit. If we were still together, I never would have touched him and you fucking know that, regardless of my own feelings. I always put you first, you fucker! You're pulling your classic move of misdirection, trying to turn every one of your insecurities and either ignore it or shove it onto me!" He accused, pointing at him with a shaking arm. "Well guess what, Marsh? I'm not dealing with it anymore, I don't fucking have to."

Stan looked at the floor, shaking his head. "Kyle. You're a fucking hypocrite for doing this," he said lowly.

"Last time I checked, we're not a couple. You have no say with what I do with my body, especially when you fucked around with Wendy first!" he shouted. Kenny sighed to himself, taking another long drink and watching the two of them carefully. It hadn't gotten violent, which was already better than he'd been expecting. It was something at least. "Why are you even fucking here?" Kyle demanded. "Are you wanting to show me just how happy you are without me? Tell me how Wendy's better in your eyes than I could ever hope to be?!"

"Maybe she is," he bit furiously, losing his temper, seeing nothing but red around the small Jew. "Maybe I got with you because I needed a downgrade for awhile, or maybe just to be a nice guy and help boost your own shitty self-esteem!" The room fell silent, his words echoing in the small space around them. Stan blinked, realizing just what it was he'd said and instantly regretting his words as Kyle's face fell from fury to devastation.

"Dude," Kenny said, looking at him in disgust. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I-I..." he stammered, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, holy shit. Kyle, I'm sorry."

Kyle looked down at the floor, his hands rubbing his arms self-consciously. "For someone trying to 'boost my shitty self-esteem'...all you ever did was make it worse," he said quietly.

Stan's tenseness dropped defeatedly, biting his lip. He looked to see that Kenny had apparently inherited his rage, the blonde's teeth grinding and his eyes screaming that he was more than ready to kill Stan for what he said. He couldn't exactly blame him. "Kyle...I didn't mean it," he repeated softly. "You know I don't think you're like that. You know how much I care about you, Dude. I'm just angry."

"You have no reason to be angry," he said, his fingers digging into his arms brutally. "I have the reason to be angry. Yes, I fucking did something with Ken, but I'm not going to apologize for something I did after we broke up, especially when you're the one who made the call, Stanley!" he suddenly shot, his voice jumping enough decibels to make the both of them flinch. "In the last 24 hours, you know what I've been through?! I fucking lost you, everyone thinks I'm a goddamn whore, and I saw you and Wendy...holding hands a-and looking so happy," he said miserably. "What is it about her that's so much better than me, Stan?!"

"She's not," he whispered, seeing tears welling in Kyle's eyes and taking a shuddery breath. "Kyle, she's not better than you."

"Then why did you run to her?" he demanded.

"Why did you run to Kenny?" he countered, his shields desperately trying to go up. He didn't want to be cornered, he couldn't fight out of Kyle's words when he faltered and he damn well knew it. It'd been a staple of their relationship for years: Stan was the physical confronter, but Kyle could destroy you with one sentence should you let him. And Stan didn't think he could take on both Kyle and Kenny, not when they were this angry.

Kyle sighed irritably, "I 'ran' to Ken because he actually gives a shit about me. And, unlike Wendy, he doesn't let me down for his own selfish gains. You know how many years I listened to you bitching about her, Stan? How many times I fucking pulled you together when she broke your heart time after fucking time?" he asked desperately. "How is that better than me?"

Stan stood in silence, his jaw trembling. He knew why. He knew exactly why. He took a deep breath, feeling the uncomfortable, smothering truth settling in around him. But Kyle had to know. He deserved to know. "Because I love her."

"And you don't love me?" he scoffed with an eyeroll.

He looked into those green eyes as they settled back on him and shook his head subtly, voice no louder than a whisper as he choked out, "Not like that. No."

The words may as well have been physical objects being cannoned at his face. He didn't expect that. He never expected Stan to ever say that to him. Kyle's entire world shattered around him, his legs trying to give way underneath him. Everything seemed to shrink, his heart nearly stopping in its tracks. He couldn't think. He couldn't fucking breathe.

Kenny's mouth was hanging open, his mind overrun with hate, his fear of Stan dissipating within an instant. "You fucking dick," the boy seethed at him, stepping closer towards him and shaking in rage. "Marsh, ya don't fuckin' tell someone that, you piece of shit!"

"Well, what?! Was I supposed to lie?!"

"YES!" he shouted. He looked back to see Kyle looking completely crushed, his heart feeling torn to pieces as he watched the poor redhead trying so hard to hold himself together. "Oh, Jesus, Ky," he said worriedly, stepping back to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, freezing at the complete solidarity of his muscle.

"You...didn't...love me?" Kyle whispered, the words tasting like turpentine as they left his tongue.

Stan bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably. "Ky, you're my best friend. And I love you like my best friend. But...I mistook it for...relationship love," he winced.

Kyle's mouth was agape, his jaw quivering like a leaf caught in the wind. He felt like a fool. A love-blinded fool. He should've known. He should've known right off that Stan didn't love him back. He shouldn't have listened to the words sounding so sweet coming from that mouth. He shouldn't have let himself fall into his soft kisses, let himself swoon before the boy who'd stolen his heart. He never should have given him this opportunity. Kyle knew he was too smart for that, he knew that he should've caught the signs right off the bat. Stan never treated him like Kenny treated him, never made him feel like the center of his universe. But Wendy...Wendy had always been Stan's universe, regardless of who was in his bed at the time.

He should've known.

"Would've been nice to know before I wasted so much time on you," Kyle said miserably. "Would've been nice...to know that you were playing me the whole fucking time." He looked back up at him, feeling tears springing from his eyes but refusing to acknowledge them. "And it would've been real fucking nice to know that no matter what I did, you'd always want her. It's always fucking been her, hasn't it, Stan?" he demanded, trying to stop himself from sobbing, nearly choking on his repressed air.

"Kyle, I'm sorry," he insisted, his voice cracking. "Goddammit, I just want us to be friends again. I just want to go back in time a-and stop us before we did this."

"Same here," he bit. "I could've been with someone who gives a shit about me instead of dealing with you," he gestured over to Kenny, who sighed to himself. The blonde reached up and rubbed Kyle's shoulders a bit, trying to alleviate some of the tension, but knowing that he wasn't doing a damn thing. Kyle wiped his eyes with his sleeve and shook his head. "I've never...hated myself more," he said angrily. "I had no reason to love you, all you did was treat me like shit."

Stan's eyes fell and he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know I did."

Kyle looked back up at him and blinked in a bit of shock. "What?"

"I said I know I did," he murmured, shrugging listlessly. "I was treating you like my friend, nothing more...Because, as hard as I tried, I couldn't see you as more than my friend."

"And a piece of easy ass," he narrowed his eyes accusingly.

He was silent before sighing quietly. "Kyle, I'm sorry," he repeated.

Kyle stared at him in disbelief, clasping around himself. He couldn't even deny it. Stan wanted him to be nothing more than that whore that he'd perpetuated through his lie. He didn't want Kyle for anything but a shoulder to lean on, a co-op player, and an easy lay. Kyle couldn't take it. He was losing himself to Stan again, and in just as vulnerable a way. This time, he couldn't let him see. He looked down at the floor, trembling out of control. "Leave," he whispered. "Just get the fuck out of my house, Stan."

"Kyle-" he started before flinching as Kenny stormed up to him and snagged his collar.

"Come on, Marsh," he spat. "You n' I are gonna talk n' yer gettin' away from him," he snarled, grabbing his shoulder and whirling him around. He unlocked the door and threw it open, shoving Stan out. They both looked to see Ike leaning outside the frame, glaring daggers at Stan.

"You piece of shit," he said lowly, shaking his head.

"Ike, help Kyle," Kenny directed. The boy nodded, sneering at Stan again and heading quickly into Kyle's room. Kenny resumed shoving Stan through the hall and leading him down the stairs by the back of his neck. Stan winced, knowing he could easily turn and punch the blonde and it'd be over in a moment flat, but he knew he deserved this. He fucked up. He really fucked up.

Ken led him past Sheila who raised her brow. "Stanley? Aren't you apologizing to Kyle?" she asked.

He looked away guiltily and Kenny growled. "No, he's not. He's gettin' outta yer house before he says somethin' else to encourage yer son to jump outta window, Mrs. B," he answered, walking him to the front door and shoving him outside. Stan stumbled off the step, barely catching himself and watching Kenny carefully, wondering if he was about to brawl with the blonde. His mind ran over ways to take him down, his adrenaline pumping. However, it seemed all for naught as Kenny stepped out behind him and slammed the door shut, crossing his arms and glaring at the noirette from the stoop. He was keeping them at a distance, Stan noticed. No doubt because he knew he was on the verge of losing any semblance of control he had left. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Stan?" he finally demanded.

Stan looked at him defeatedly. "Ken, he needed to know the truth."

"Not like that," he hissed. "Fuck, Marsh...you might as well've just tied him down and bashed his head in with a rock with Wendy's face painted on it!" he waved his arms around frantically. "He felt bad enough!"

He frowned, "Not so bad he couldn't fuck around with you."

Kenny glared, "Yeah. So we messed around. Okay. So the fuck what? He needed an escape from the shit you've been puttin' him through." Stan shoved his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. The blonde stared at him and took a deep breath. "Stan. Did ya notice the bruise on his eye?"

"Yeah, I figured you got a little too rowdy," he scoffed.

"Millie threw a plate at him," he snapped bitterly. Stan cocked his head and he growled. "Because you started the bullshit that he was easy and now it's fucking everywhere, she thought Kyle went after fuckin' Bridon. You didn't just break up with him, Marsh. You ruined his reputation, you fucking told him he was a downgrade," he hissed, watching as the boy flinched guiltily. "And then...you fuckin' tell him ya never loved him?" he asked incredulously. "Whether or not ya love him like that, if he's yer best friend, why the fuck are you treatin' him like fuckin' Cartman treats him?!"

He recoiled a bit, blinking in shock. "Dude, that's not a fair comparison."

"Really?" he cocked his head. "'Cause as far as I can tell, ya started a lie about him, ya turned people against him, and then ya went for the lowest blows that ya could. Seems pretty much like Fatass' typical Tuesday."

"I didn't mean to hurt him!" he insisted. "I didn't know people would hang onto a little lie like that! I didn't fuckin' know that I didn't love him the way he loves me!" he bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes. "Dammit, Kenny, I said that stuff because I was angry. I wanted to talk to you both, I wanted us to be friends again...but then I walk in and you're jerking him off and he's calling your fucking name and...and...I just lost my control," his shoulders dropped and he groaned, scratching through his hair agitatedly.

"Yer jealous," Kenny said lowly. "You don't want Kyle, but ya don't want anyone else t' have him either. Why? Don't think he can be happy without ya?" he glared.

"I want him to be happy," he said quietly, staring at the sidewalk tiredly. "He deserves to be happy."

Kenny watched him carefully and frowned. "Then why are ya so mad at him right now?"

"Because I don't want him to be happy with you," he spat. Kenny recoiled, blinking at him rapidly. That was unexpected. Stan noticed his confusion and growled to himself. "You aren't good enough for him, McCormick and you damn well know it!"

He recovered and sneered, "Oh? But you are?"

"He seemed to think so!"

"Well, funny, he seems to think I'm pretty good, too. Considering how before ya broke up, he said there were a lot of times he regretted not picking me because of the shitty way you were treatin' him," he hissed, leaning down towards Stan's face from the stoop, watching the nausea rising up into his face. "You treated him like an accessory, Marsh. I treat him like the whole goddamn outfit. So you can fuck off with yer 'holier than thou art' bullshit."

Stan stared at him in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sharp wind cutting through their ears. He had a point. And after what he'd said to Kyle, watching Kenny ready to skin him alive was exactly what Stan would've done were the tables turned. His mind flashed back to Wendy, how they talked about Kenny and Kyle working together. How he was the one that admitted it. He was angry. God he was so angry, but he realized all at once: It wasn't at Kyle. And it wasn't at Kenny either. His body slumped exhaustively. "You are good enough for him," he admitted in a whisper. "And I don't like that."

Kenny narrowed his eyes. "Why? Ya hate me?"

He shook his head. "No, I love Kyle. Just...not the way that you do," he shrugged. "I tried. He means the world to me, Kenny...I-I just couldn't see myself going further than we were. I thought...that I'd get there one day. I thought it'd just happen. He's the most important person in my life, I thought it'd just come naturally," he said, his voice cracking with a torrent of emotion. Kenny's shoulders slunk a bit and they both looked down at the concrete beneath their feet. "I'm sorry," Stan said, getting his attention once more. "I don't hate you, Ken. I really don't."

"Sorry, but I can't return that sentiment," Kenny replied stoically. "What ya told Ky is...It wasn't okay."

"I know," he whispered, clenching his eyes shut.

Kenny watched him for a moment, looking back at the Broflovski homestead and sighing. "I'm gonna check on him, 'n yer gonna leave. You stay the fuck away from him, or I will kick yer ass," he warned, turning on his heel and letting himself back into the house. Once more, Stan stood alone outside, his heart aching and his temples throbbing in guilt as he looked at the familiar chipped paint on the door. His phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket, miserably reading an invite to a party at Token's house. He shook his head, clutching the device tightly in his palm before scrolling through his contacts, staring at the name at the top of his list. He knew that this was how he would always be, how whenever things went wrong, he'd turn back to her for a guiding light. As it'd happened so often throughout their lives it was practically second nature, one would think he'd be more used to the outcome: Kyle was right.

But damn it all if it didn't want to eat Stan from the inside-out. But for now, it was just their reality, and now they both had to live with it.

A/N: Stupid boys how could you.

Inspiration for Stan's stupidity is absolutely brought to you by the episode 'Follow that Egg!' because it's amazing. Jealous little prick.

Inspiration for Kyle being a hypocritical little shit is brought to you by...well any episode where Kyle works for Cartman. Y'all know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Emotional little prick? Idek.

They're both asstards, how's that? (I'm the one writing these fuckers and even I'm starting to hate them both I'm losing control of this story pft)

Thanks for R&Ring!