A/N: More office shenanigans woot

Enjoy~

Mind racing, fingers cramping, and body in a caffeine-induced craze. Just another day at the office as far as Kyle was concerned.

He sighed, forcing his fingers off of his keyboard for a moment, letting them pulse as he flexed them. He could feel a knot building in his left wrist, pinky shooting with pain and he groaned. The absolute last thing he needed right now was to have to stop at the pharmacy for a fucking wrist brace. He already felt like he was in his fifties, adding arthritis onto the list of growing issues was definitely not on the agenda if he had anything to say about it.

He snagged his coffee cup, taking a long, needed sip of caramel brew and humming quietly to himself. He almost hated to admit it, but he needed to be here. Alone but cooped in his office, distractions galore. Much better than sitting at his desk at home just waiting for it to be night and for a certain cloaked figure to make his way to his window. Kyle bit his lip, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling, fingers lightly tracing over the rim of the pale green ceramic.

The last few weeks had just been a complete whirlwind. He wasn't sure how he was possibly able to keep up without his hair falling out at the rate it was going. Missing money, underground crime rings, a fucking superhero of all things showing up, getting attacked... He let his eyes slip closed, inhaling the heavy scent of his coffee and letting it soak into his tired bones. A flitter of purple danced in his darkened vision and he took another long sip. This was getting almost too complicated.

Under a month ago he was just a strung-out accountant. Now he was a strung-out accountant playing detective on the side as a cape-wearing vigilante's nerdy sidekick. He smirked to himself, wondering for a moment how Mysterion viewed him. If he was considered on his level or just a behind-the-scenes lackey. He shook his head. He really had no reason to wonder, Mysterion made it perfectly clear just how he considered the two of them a team, even without outright saying it. Neither one moves forward without the other, it'd send the entire operation askew if one just tried bursting head-first into a situation without the other's input.

He opened his glazed eyes, frowning again as he felt the bruise under the left lightly throbbing away once again from the prolonged closure. This entire mission of theirs was a head-first risk when it came right down to it. Kyle didn't have an option but to be involved, but Mysterion did. He clinked his fingernail against his mug. He lucked out if he was being honest with himself. There was no way he would've been able to get this far without Mysterion's own clues guiding them down the right path. And he could've been in the fucking hospital from being attacked instead of just shaken up... He shook his head, his own words to Kenny flooding him once again: It could have been so much worse.

The phone beside him suddenly picked up ringing, startling him enough to recoil slightly before he cleared his throat, reaching forward and snagging it from the receiver. "Afternoon, this is Kyle."

"Hey, Dude!" a cheerful voice greeted him.

He smiled softly, "Hey, Ken. What's up?" He leaned back once more, relaxing instantly at the familiar, warm tone.

"Mkay so Bebe had a accounting question for ya but she's too embarrassed to call," he said dryly.

Kyle snorted, "What's the question?"

"She wants to know how we can get some of our deposits into our savings account," he relayed.

The redhead cocked his brow, "You want a percentage directly set up to go into it when I make the deposit or does she want to transfer it right this minute?"

A few moments passed, Kyle hearing Kenny and Bebe discussing in quiet murmurs. He took another drink of his coffee, foot bouncing as he waited and stared at his desk. "She says she wants it deposited when you make the drop. Apparently she thought we had that set up already and got confused when the account was stayin' still," he said, Kyle hearing the amused smirk in his voice as Bebe tried defending herself in the background.

He chuckled, leaning back forward and quickly going back to his computer, hitting his speaker and dropping the phone back into place. "She didn't need to be embarrassed about that. That happens on my end," he informed him.

"See now I told 'er that, but she's almost as stubborn as you are," Kenny teased.

"No one is near my level, let's be real here, Ken," he smirked, worming his way on the computer to Kenny's files. "Let's see..." he clicked his tongue, scrolling through photocopies of their contract and subsequent bank confirmations, bopping his head a bit as he worked before it all came to a grinding halt, his eyes widening. There were two numbers. One checking, one savings.

Two very different routing numbers.

"Oh no," he whispered to himself, putting his coffee back on the desk and feeling his jaw beginning to tremble.

"Ky?"

He gulped, "G-gimme a second," he said hurriedly, shoving his chair back towards his filing cabinet behind him. He ripped it open, fingers flying as he shuffled through files, heart racing in panic. This could be it. He could have the answers right in front of him.

He snagged the center's files and wheeled back into place, opening his mouth before slowly closing it, remembering all at once what was happening. He was being watched. Cartman knew he was onto him. Kyle grabbed the phone again, holding it to his ear to take off the speaker, hearing Kenny and Bebe quietly discussing something yet again. He carefully twisted himself over the file, blocking it from any possible back-angle view should that be where Cartman's camera was lingering.

He flipped through the pages, finding the handwritten deposit information sheet and moving it to the front of the stack. He narrowed his eyes, the numbers on the paper matched the numbers on the screen. "Ken?" he asked lowly.

"Yeah, Bud?"

"Ken, is your only bank through the savings and loan?"

He paused for a moment, "Yeah, Dude. You need the savings account info now?"

Kyle gulped, eyes moving between the information and he took a shuddery breath. "I'm coming over," he decided, putting the papers back into their folder and shoving them into his work bag.

Kenny paused yet again, "Ky? Everything okay?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I'll be there in ten." He hung up the phone, jumping from his desk and swinging his bag up onto his shoulder, hurrying towards his door. This was bad, this was so bad.

He swung open the door, nearly screaming at Cartman standing on the other side, an amused grin staring down at the startled accountant. "Well. Going somewhere, Kahl?" he drawled.

"Lunch," he said breathlessly, trying to calm his racing heart.

The brunette cocked his head, brow hiking in the slightest. "Oh? That's pretty unusual for you."

Kyle straightened himself up, knowing well enough that acting suspicious was not going to aid him in the slightest. "I need a change now and then, is that a crime?"

Cartman shrugged, "I guess not... But, you need your work bag to go get food?" he jerked his head towards the tote slung over his shoulder.

"I have to run an errand while I'm out," he narrowed his eyes. "I'm entitled to an hour long lunch, and I rarely use it."

He clicked his tongue, "Calling off Friday, taking a long lunch today... Kahl, you're slipping on your efficiency."

He scowled, "I already caught up what I missed on Fri-" he stopped with a yelp as a thick hand shoved his shoulder and forced him back into his office, Cartman stepping in and shutting the door. The glutton leaned against it, Kyle staring at his only escape being blocked off, fighting off a flare of nerves.

Cartman smirked cruelly, "You hate it here that much, Kahl?"

"I'm just taking a lunch break, Fatass," he glared. "Like I was promised was allowed when I signed up to work here."

His boss chuckled lowly, "You're just giving off such a lackadaisical attitude, Jew. It's unlike you. It's my job to make sure you're not in a situation you can't handle," he echoed the redhead superiorly, a knowing warning lingering in his tone that chilled Kyle to the bone.

"Everything's fine," he managed to say steadily, much to his own surprise.

"Good. After all, I'd hate for you to leave... and so would so many other people," he feigned a pout. "So many companies, Kahl. So many people counting on you." The redhead shuddered, fighting off a bout of nausea. Here he was again, Damocles with Cartman playing with the thread himself.

He took a steadying breath, "I'm not going anywhere," he said softly.

"Good!" Cartman nodded approvingly. "Gonna stay right here and make this company and others thrive aren't you?"

"Yes," he growled through gritted teeth. "Now get out of my way."

He shook his head, "Not just yet. Not until I know that you know what happens if you walk out of here to somewhere else."

Kyle's eyes sparked with fury, that nerve that Cartman so loved to prod being beaten senseless by the implications. "The fact that I haven't broken your nose and stormed out by now should prove it enough," he said lowly.

"And just why haven't you?"

"Because you're extorting me," he hissed.

Amber eyes gleamed with smugness. "Maybe. But we both get what we want in the end, don't we, Jew?"

"This won't last forever, Cartman," he warned him.

He stiffened as Cartman leaned down towards his face, keeping his gaze firm and steady. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to make himself a fraction of the physical intimidation his boss held without so much as a frown. Another grin split through the plump cheeks in front of him and Kyle bit his tongue to keep his jaw from clattering. "Only time it ends is when you end it, Jew," he said casually. "Have fun with Kinny," he stood and walked out of his office, leaving Kyle to blankly stare at his opened door. He glanced around the spacious room and gulped.

He wasn't safe here. He needed to get out now.

Without another thought, he briskly made his way into the hall, passing Butters' office and not hearing his enthusiastic questioning. His fingers wrapped rigidly around his bag strap, rushing down the stairs and ignoring Judy snidely greeting him. His eyes flickered around, seeing too many cubicle-dwelling faces looking at him with a stare of disdain. "What if some of them are part of the ring?" he wondered, throwing himself into a whirlwind of panic. He picked up the pace, nearly jogging out the door and into the fresh air. He gulped down pockets of air, staring up into the clear blue of the sky as his panicked panting filled the empty noise between bird chirps.

The hair on the back of his neck rose, subtly turning his head back to peer over his shoulder. His sight traced up the way, landing on a second-story window leading to Cartman's office. He gulped, feeling brown eyes staring him down and he quickly turned, heading towards his car. He fought to get the door open and slide himself inside, locking it and clasping his hands around his steering wheel, leading himself through a round of breathing. Mechanically, he went to light up a cigarette and start his car, unfazed by the music blaring as the ignition came to life. The staunch menthol hit the back of his throat and he took a shaking breath, looking again to the brightness of the day.

He had to calm down. He had to take this rationally. Between himself and Mysterion being attacked in such a short span of time, the notion wasn't exactly fruitful, but he knew it was necessary. Panicking over everyone and everything would do nothing more than fuck both of them over in the end. He had to take this the Kyle way, not the overboard-protective Mysterion way. The redhead frowned, clenching his cigarette between his teeth and beginning to whip his car out of the lot and onto the main road, feeling those sharp brown eyes following him until he crested the hill out of his sight.

Kenny stood by the sign to his center, ashing his cigarette onto the sidewalk in front of him, eyes scanning for Kyle's car. He knew that tone Kyle had used a little too well, knew that something had him worked up, he'd found something that made it necessary for him to rush out of his office and get to the center.

"Whatcha lookin' for, Ken?" a voice popped up with a gentle kick to the back of his leg. He glanced down, seeing the copper head of Bryce and he smirked.

"A hot date. What're you out here for?"

Bryce snorted, "Yeah. You and a hot date. Gonna woo 'em with your crushin' cans against your head skills?"

"Ay, if there's one thing people like, it's someone who knows their talents," he winked, getting an eye roll out of the teen. "Everythin' all right?" Ken asked in concern.

He nodded, "Yeah. Goin' fine. Job's helpin' the fam save up a little. It ain't much but it's somethin', ya know?"

Ken nodded slowly, "So... what is this job of yours? Since you and the other kids haven't exactly told me," he cocked his brow suspiciously.

He cleared his throat a bit, running his hand through his short hair. "We ain't supposed t' say."

The blonde's chest tightened, looking around for eavesdroppers before looking back at the boy. "Bryce, you need to tell me what the hell you're mixed up in," he demanded lowly.

He held up his hands defensively. "Look I promise it ain't nothin' bad. It ain't drugs or nothin' like that. They told us it's an 'independent study'," he quoted. Kenny looked at him in bewilderment and he shrugged. "Literally all we do is hang out in some building. Sounds skeevy as fuck, I know, but none of us kids have had anythin' happen yet. We just watch TV or play fuckin' cards. Somethin' bout watchin' community values or some other shit," he rolled his eyes. "I didn't pay much attention to be honest, I kind of stopped listening after they told me I'd be gettin' paid."

Kenny nodded slowly. He couldn't exactly say he blamed him for that one, he'd been in that situation himself a few too many times. But still, something about this just felt off. He sighed, "All right, look. Just... can ya promise me somethin'?"

"Depends," he shrugged again.

"If somethin' happens or they try to get you kids to-"

"Come find you and tell you," he waved him off. "Ken, we got it covered. We got a system worked out over there. Fuckin' code words and everythin'."

Kenny smiled approvingly and nodded, "So long as you're sure."

"Couldn't be more," he rolled his eyes amusedly. They both turned to watch a grey car quickly turning into the lot and Kenny grinned.

"There's my date now," he smirked.

Bryce raised his brow as Kyle nearly fell trying to get out of his car in a hurry, fighting to get his bag off the gearshift. "Well. You sure know how to pick 'em."

He snorted, "Oh you're just jealous I got me a man with the dough."

"I legit can't tell if you're kidding or not," he shook his head slowly.

Kenny laughed softly, watching as Kyle quickly made his way towards the both of them, face readably uneasy. The blonde cleared his throat. "Ky, my man!" he greeted loudly, walking over and throwing his arm around his shoulders. Kyle blinked up at him in confusion. "Tell Bryce here how we're madly in love," he gestured to the teen watching them suspiciously.

Kyle looked between the two of them, "If by 'madly in love' you mean 'want to beat each other with shoes on a regular basis', then yeah. We're fucking soulmates."

"Harsh, Babe," he pouted, getting an eye roll out of the redhead.

"Ken, Dude, I need to see some files," Kyle said lowly, far past the point of able to deal with Kenny's joking shenanigans in a situation like this. "Like, right the fuck now."

Kenny paused, losing his grin and reading the concern flooding through green eyes, nodding sharply. "All right, let's go," he said, leading him towards the building.

"Have fun makin' out," Bryce called after 'em, Kenny twisting and flipping him off before turning his attention back to the redhead.

"What happened?" he asked, pushing open the door and guiding him through the arena.

He took a deep breath, "I don't know yet, I have to do some double-checking before jumping to conclusions," he murmured. "But if this is what I think it is... I think I know how to find where the money discrepancy is coming from."

Kenny's heart nearly leapt, eyes widening and forcing a gulp down his throat. He knew what that would entail. He knew exactly what putting together this piece of the puzzle could result in. He wasn't sure how he felt, if he wanted it all to be worked out or if he wanted Kyle to stay above the surface of the matter. The further he fell in, the more risk it posed, and the bruises still well displayed on his skin could turn out to be nothing but a pre-show.

He shot some kids staring confusedly at the battered accountant a stern look, the group reading the urgency with ease and tearing away, going back to their separate activities. The men made it to Kenny's office, the blonde shoving the door open and ushering him inside. He closed it behind him, looking at Kyle nervously clutching his bag strap and shifting his weight on his feet. Troubled green eyes met his own and he bit his lip, "Whaddya need to see?" he asked gently.

"I need to see your account numbers," he murmured.

He cocked his head, "I brought the ledgers-"

"No," he shook his own. "Not the totals. The actual banking numbers."

He hitched his brow, nodding slowly and heading to his desk, ripping the phone up to his ear and hitting his first extension.

"Yeah, Babe?" Bebe answered.

"Bebe, I need you to bring the files with our account numbers on 'em to me. It's urgent."

"...Is everything ok-"

"Dude, just do it for now, all right?" he pleaded.

She cleared her throat, "Yeah, give me like, a minute." She hung up and he followed suit, looking at Kyle still shifting awkwardly in his place. The blonde's face fell pitiably, walking over and putting his hand on a tense shoulder.

"Hey, hey," he cooed, turning him and moving him towards the seats at the front of his desk. "Everything's all right, Man."

He shook his head as Kenny sat him down, "Not if this is what I think it is," he murmured. Ken bit his lip, walking behind his desk and towards his fridge, snagging two Cokes from the confines and moving back to sit next to him. He handed him a can and Kyle smiled meekly. "Thanks."

"What do you think it is?" he asked steadily.

"A number of things," he said honestly, snapping open the can tab and taking a long gulp, moving his bag off from around him to set on the floor. He reached down, tearing open the top and sifting through papers until finding his folder, ripping it out of the confines and laying it on the desk in front of him. Kenny glanced, seeing the label for the center and biting his cheek. This couldn't be good.

They both jerked around at a sharp succession of knocks. "Come in," Ken called, the two of them watching Bebe come bustling in with her own folder. Her eyes landed on Kyle, shooting him a smile before it fell all at once.

"What happened?!" she nearly shrieked, throwing Kenny the folder and moving to cup Kyle's chin and stare at the damage on his face and neck.

He batted her away lightly, "I'm fine, Bebe. Everything's fine."

"You're bruised," she said, a defensive growl seeping through her tone. "Wendy told me that you were hurt but I didn't know it was this-"

"But I'm fine," he interjected tiredly. "Stan already fucking interrogated me, please don't be Stan number two."

She paused, looking at Kenny who nodded solemnly at her and she set her lips into a soft pout. "Fine... Do I need to cover those up for you?" she offered softly.

He shook his head, "No. I can just deal. Can you uh..." he glanced at Kenny who read the expression right off.

"Bebe, get lost," he said bluntly, getting a soft backhand from the redhead.

She huffed a bit before just opting to sigh and shake her head. "Call if you need me," she said quietly, turning on her high heels and making way out of the office.

Kyle looked at the blonde and narrowed his eyes in the slightest. "I was kind of expecting you to use some tact asking her to leave," he scoffed, snagging the folder out of his hand and pulling it towards himself.

"Look, Bebe's a toughie, she can deal with some damn blunt direction," he said dryly, taking a sip of his own soda.

Kyle shook his head, opening Bebe's folder and flipping through pages, landing on a bank contract. "I was there when you made the account," he murmured. "But did anyone else have anything to do with you making bank deals? Did you get another one since you opened?"

He shook his head, "Nope. You and me all the way, Bud. You know banks scare the piss out of me," he smirked lightly.

Kyle snorted, "I can't exactly blame you for that one." He glanced at the checking and savings account numbers, biting his lip. Just as it should be, routing numbers were one and the same. 'Maybe we just fucked up the route, maybe the account number is right,' he thought, half-hoping but burrowed in disbelief as he grabbed his own office paper and held it up next to Kenny's. His heart sank as he lingered on the two sets of boxes. Checking account was number for number, just as it should be. But the savings couldn't be more different if they tried.

He gulped, eyes flittering over the fake number in his possession, looking up at the date that Kenny had filled in atop his own paper and frowning suspiciously. "Ken, do me a favor."

"Anythin', Dude," he perked up a bit, thankful that Kyle was still able to so much as speak as distraught as he seemed.

"Write out zero through nine for me," he said softly.

Kenny blinked, "I'm sorry?"

"Numbers, I need you to write the numbers," he said, tone picking up urgency. Kenny nodded, grabbing a sticky note and a pen nearing its last stretches of life and quickly jotting down the instructed digits, handing them over to the redhead and watching him curiously. Kyle held the sticky note over the savings number, heart continuing to sink. The paper wasn't Kenny's handwriting. The five was too thin, the seven didn't have Kenny's cross through the downstroke.

He settled on the neat penmanship of his photocopy. His eyes widened a bit at the format, noting the cap on the one and the familiar slight left tilt on each digit.

"Hand me your pen," he said, holding his hand out expectantly. Kenny cocked his head, but did as told. Kyle wrote his own line of numbers, holding them over the routing display and a soft sound of dismay broke through his throat. It was his handwriting. Someone copied his handwriting, and there were no doubts as to who that someone was.

Kenny's chest twisted at his defeated expression and noise. "Kyle?" he whispered. "Ky, is everything okay?"

"Can I keep this paper for tonight?" Kyle asked, voice lacking inflection. Kenny bit his lip, knowing Kyle was just completely knocked for a loop from his deadened tone. He was completely lost.

"Of course you can," he assured him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "You wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head slowly, taking a shaking breath. "I have someone I'll need to talk to about it later," he murmured, Kenny nodding slowly. Damn his impatience, though. Kyle placed the papers back into their folders, sliding them into his bag and gnawing on his thumbnail. He had to do something. He had to see if this was a pattern. But Cartman was watching him, he'd know if he was looking into this. He'd have to do it from home. But getting the folders out of the office... He paused. Only his office was being watched.

He hummed in thought. "Can I use your phone?" he jerked his head towards the receiver on the desk. "My cell is kind of dying."

"Go for it, Dude," he nodded him on. Kyle stood and whirled the phone around, hitting the speaker and twisting his lips, glancing at Kenny. The blonde winced, "You want me to leave?"

He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "No. Not if I can get a promise from you."

"Anything," he assured him.

"What I'm about to do is going to sound really weird and really suspicious," he winced. "But I need you to promise that you trust me."

He smirked softly, "Dude, of course I do." He stood up next to him and teasingly patted his head. "You do whatever you need to."

"Well, I need you to ask for Butters then," he grumbled, quickly typing in the number for work. "Valerie knows my voice a little too well." He paused. "No wait. Ask for me, they'll transfer you to him instead."

Kenny blinked in confusion, both of them looking down as the phone began ringing. It picked up with a start, "CartAd Agencies, how may I help you?"

The blonde cleared his throat, "Yeah, I need to talk to Kyle Broflovski please."

"Mr. Broflovski is out of the building, would you like his message service or assistant?"

"Assistant would be fine," he clarified. "Thank you."

"One moment, please." They glanced at each other as the hold music started up, Kenny raising his brow.

"So... why did I need to ask for you?"

"So they don't know I'm the one calling," he muttered, tapping his fingers against the desk. "When Butters answers, ask him if he's on speaker or not." Kenny stared at him in bewilderment but nodded, turning towards the phone again and leaning down beside the redhead.

He knew the answer already, but the question was begging to be asked regardless. "Kyle, are you safe?" he asked softly.

The man was silent, bowing his head a bit, "I don't think I am," he admitted. "So I'm working to fix it."

Ken nodded, gently rubbing his back and looking at the phone again as it picked up. "H-hello, this is Butters?"

Kyle rolled his eyes at his unprofessionalism, waving Kenny on. "Hey, Butters, it's Ken."

"Well, hey there, Kenny!" he greeted.

"Are you on speaker phone?" he asked immediately.

A pause. "Well... well no I ain't. Should I be?"

"Butters," Kyle started. "AHP!" he stopped him before the blonde could greet him as well. "Don't say my name, do not indicate you're talking to me right now," he instructed.

"Um...o-okay?"

"Butters are you alone right now?"

The man gulped, "Yessir I am."

He nodded approvingly, "Do you still have my spare office key?"

"I-I do," he confirmed.

Kyle took a deep breath, "All right, Butters, I need you to listen very carefully."

"I am," he promised.

"I need you to go into my office and pull all 43 of the remaining charity bank files out and take them to your office. I already have Kenny's with me."

"O-kay!" he said.

"Hold it, hold it, don't hang up yet!" Kyle hissed, Butters' cheerful confirmation dwindling into silence. The redhead sighed, glancing at Kenny watching him worriedly. "Okay," he continued, looking back down. "I need you to transfer this call to my office. When you're done finding the files, you're going to pick up the phone and say, 'Sorry, Kenny. I had to run to Kyle's office.' And I'll lead you from there. Keep it off of speaker, and I want you to hover over the folders, cage them in. Do you understand?"

He paused. "I-I guess I do?"

"Good. Go," he ordered. Butters audibly gulped before they were placed back on hold, the men looking at each other wearily.

"Kyle, what's going on?" Kenny asked softly.

He sighed, "I think Fatass has my office bugged, Ken. I think he's trying to fuck me over somehow... Maybe I'm just paranoid I guess," he mumbled.

"You have every right to be," he cooed, going back to rubbing his back. "Things are crazy for ya right now."

He smirked, nodding softly. "Yeah, but I'll get it worked through. Just so long as I can fucking figure out where every piece goes, ya know?"

He shook him lightly, "You're the smartest guy I know, if anyone can figure it out, it's you."

He snorted and rolled his eyes amusedly. "Wish I could agree with you, but I ain't exactly the one-man show right now."

Kenny smirked, "Your secret buddy helpin' ya then?"

"He's the only person that doesn't have the potential to turn it against me, not that I know of at least," he said quietly. "I know you and Stan never would, but..."

"But that's an unnecessary risk for you to take regardless," Kenny finished, Kyle nodding softly. The blonde shrugged, "I ain't offended in the least, Man. I don't understand this shit like you do, I'm just here to grab a beer with ya should ya need it."

He chuckled, "Well that's the most vital job out of anyone. God knows if I didn't have someone with me I'd drown myself in the stuff." He leaned down more, putting his chin into his palm and sighing. "Remember when I only drank like, once a month?"

Kenny snorted, nodding and moving down beside him. "I do. You lectured Stan and me nonstop."

"Only because you called me a prude," he cocked his brow. The blonde laughed and nodded in agreement. Kyle shook his head, "This has to start hitting an upswing... it just has to. Right?" he winced.

Kenny nodded firmly, "It can only go up from here, Dude." Kyle paused, the familiar phrase hitting him like a bat. He slowly turned to look at the blonde, Kenny blinking at the man's sudden change of expression. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Hey... can you... do me a weird favor?"

"Ain't that all I do?" he grinned cheekily. "Whatcha need?"

"Raise your left arm."

"Uh, why?" Kenny took a deep breath. He'd prepped for this, what mattered right now was keeping a straight face, asking questions, treating Kyle like he's lost his goddamn mind.

"Just... just do it," he urged.

Kenny shrugged, shooting his arm up into the air. "Teacher, teacher, pick me!" he teased.

Kyle squinted. Mysterion's arm had been stiff and pained the night before. Could it have calmed down so quickly? Maybe ibuprofen kept it at bay? Kyle folded in his lips, biting them lightly. "Can I see your back?"

"Usually I ask for someone to at least buy me a drink first," he batted his lashes.

"Stop pulling cliche lines out of your ass and let me see," he demanded, standing up straight and staring the blonde head-on.

Kenny forced a nonchalant shrug, turning and gripping the back of his shirt, hauling it up the length of his spine. Kyle moved closer, staring at the spot he'd patched the night before, finding nothing but clear, smooth skin. He hummed, nodding and stepping away. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Ken repositioned his shirt, turning and cocking his head. "So any reason why I was subjected to a strip show with no pay?"

"My attention should be payment enough," he smirked lightly, an odd fogginess settling in his chest. He wondered if he really wanted it to be Ken, to be able to divulge every ounce of information he'd obtained in the last hour that was driving him insane keeping to himself... and then punch his lights out for not just coming out and fucking telling him.

The blonde laughed him out of his inner wanderings, "Okay, that was a nice lil' perk," he winked. "But seriously, what's up?"

He smiled tiredly, "Kenny, if I told you, you'd never believe me. Can we just leave it at that?"

He shrugged, "I suppose. Though now just know that now I'm going to think that you're goin' home n' jerkin' off t' that."

"Don't flatter yourself," he scoffed. "You aren't my type."

"Oh?" he challenged, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms. "What is your type? Boring baristas? Assholes like Craig? Or are you more into this secretive thing with your new 'different' friend?" he taunted.

A blush rode over Kyle's cheeks, nothing between them but the jaunty hold music and Kenny watched his reaction with interest. "I don't... have a type?" he winced.

Kenny rolled his eyes, "Everyone's got a type, Dude."

"I'm too busy to think about-"

"Sorry K-Ken. Had to go to Kyle's o-office?" Butters managed to stammer out, both of them tearing from each other's stare and back to the phone. Kyle's embarrassment was shed instantly, tensing and staring at the device.

"All right. Butters, you're going to repeat everything after me, do you understand?"

He coughed a bit. "Yes."

"Okay. Say 'I don't know if I can, Kyle has me reorganizing files'."

"I dunno if I can, Kyle has me r-reorganizin' files."

Kyle waited a beat, "Now say, 'I'm not sure what for, he told me to start Friday and I forgot since he wasn't here'."

"Well, well I ain't sure what fer, he told me to- to start Friday and I just forgot since he wasn't here."

Another pause flew by as Kenny watched him with interest, a part of him beaming with pride at Kyle so diligently plotting this out. They had a hell of a shot if he could keep up this forward thinking. "Okay, now 'I'm sorry, maybe next time. I have to go. Bye, Kenny," he emphasized. "And then subtly transfer the call back to your office and get in there with the files. Make sure to lock my door and close your own behind you," he added.

"I'm awful sorry, Ken. Maybe next time. I hafta go now, bye, Kenny!" he repeated dutifully, the hold music starting back up. Kyle let out a long sigh of relief, hoping he wasn't just wasting his time here.

Kenny chuckled quietly, "You could lead an undercover mission with that kind of bullshittery. Maybe you should be Stan's partner."

He cocked his brow, "I'm not working for the cops. Besides, last thing I need to be is someone with a short temper in a building full of people with guns, Man."

He snorted, "True."

"How was that?" Butters' voice popped back up.

"You did great," Kyle nodded. "Butters, this next part is important," he emphasized. "Take the files you got, stick them in your drawer and lock them up. Then take 43 files from your own cabinet and have them on your desk next to you. Then every half hour, make it look like you've set one to the side in a separate pile. Do you understand?"

"Well I suppose but... why?"

He sighed, "Butters, I can't tell you, but it's really important that you do this. I'll get the hidden files from you tonight before you leave, all right? And do not mention this to anyone. Do not bring it up to me when I get back to the office, can you do that?"

Butters paused, "This is 'bout the money, ain't it?" he whispered.

"Yes," he said exhaustively. "So you know how vital it is that we keep this to ourselves."

"Ain't no problem," he assured him. "But what if someone asks what I'm doin' with the others?"

"Verification, that's it, that's all," he said firmly. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes, Butters. Thank you."

"No problem! See ya then!" Butters chirped before Kyle hung up the phone and shook his head.

He glanced at Kenny and smirked tiredly, "How the fuck does he stay enthusiastic all the time?"

"By being obnoxious," the blonde quirked his brow. "There's a reason we don't invite him to do stuff with us anymore."

He shrugged, "After what I just put him through, I owe the bastard a drink or three." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry to bother you, Dude. I'm sure I just took up time where you could be doing something actually important."

"Psch," he waved him off. "Dude, today is sort-through-clothes day okay? I ain't gonna fuckin' berate ya from takin' me away from torn-up fuckin' marathon t-shirts." He patted his back lightly, "You gonna be all right?"

"I'll be fine," he assured him, giving him a small smile. "I'll bring back your papers tomorrow."

"Whenever you can, Dude. No rush, we don't need 'em right now," he promised him. "You probably get more use than we do." He paused, seeing Kyle's sinking face and sighing, moving forward and clasping him in a hug. Kyle blinked before embracing him back, pushing his forehead into his shoulder and taking a shaking breath. "It'll work out," Kenny murmured, rubbing up his back. "All of this will work out, Ky."

"God I hope so," he whispered. "And fast. Every day is another day closer to me being thrown in fucking prison or worse."

Kenny gulped, clutching him a little tighter. "It's gonna be all right," he promised. Kyle took a deep breath and nodded, eyes flickering to his bag on the ground again and feeling Kenny wrapped around him comfortingly. He sighed tiredly, letting his eyes slip closed and that purple dance across his lids once again. He got step one out of the way, hopefully Mysterion would have some answers to continue the dance.

A/N: So much deceit ahhhh

Thanks for R&Ring!