I don't even know: fic?
Um, I had the idea to write this last night when I was half asleep and I thought I heard helicopters hovering over my house. I think the STRENGTH of the origin will be clear in the execution.
Title: Resurrection Blues
Author: formerdinosaur
Pairings: Stan/Kyle, Cartman/Butters
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~5,000
Warning: Dark themes pertaining to a serial killer
Summary: Kenny has a breakdown on the day a local serial killer is caught. Two years later, that killer escapes while Kyle's parents and Ike are out of town, and the boys gather at Kyle's house to "protect" him.
Notes: ughh..
It's one of those afternoons when Kyle isn't sure what they are. They're sitting together on Stan's bed after school, shoulders touching, books open. Stan is half asleep while Kyle explains something about geometric proofs. It's April, still slushy outside but warmer than it's been in months. They got rained on while they walked home from school, and Kyle can smell it on Stan's hair: that first refreshing spring rain shower after a long winter, the kind of shit Mr. Tweek gets poetic about on his local cable commercials.
Kyle suspects that this is one of those times when Stan is open to being kissed, because his knee is touching Kyle's thigh, and he's sighing a lot. Kyle has gotten caught feeling like an idiot in mid-swoon before; he's cautious but optimistic. Stan's head dips toward Kyle's shoulder when he yawns, and Kyle thinks he should probably try it. He fidgets until they're pressed a little more snugly together, and Stan does the same, flopping his hand over so that the backs of his fingers are touching Kyle's jeans.
It's all very delicate, like using the big telescope in Astronomy Club: small moves to get the perfect focus. They look at each other. Stan smiles, his fingers moving on Kyle's leg, just a little.
Some motherfucker's footsteps pound up the stairs out in the hallway.
They're both accustomed to not seeing Kenny for long stretches of time and waving lethargically when he suddenly reappears, but having him burst in through Stan's bedroom door looking like he got chased here by wild dogs is new.
"Oh," Kenny says when they both sit up in alarm, Stan's geometry book falling off his lap and onto the floor. Kenny's chest is jittery, and he's frozen in mid-stride. He clearly wasn't expecting to find Kyle here, which is stupid, Kyle thinks. He's always here.
"What's wrong?" Stan asks. "Where have you been, dude?"
"Nothing -- nowhere." Kenny shuts Stan's bedroom door. "Shit's just kind of fucked up at home."
Stan nods, and Kyle closes his book. They can both be counted upon not to ask for details when Kenny says that.
"C'mere," Stan says, and Kenny walks to the bed, avoiding their eyes.
Kenny takes off his shoes and gets into bed with them. Kyle scoots toward the wall, expecting Kenny to lie next to Stan, but he climbs between them, rolls toward Stan, and almost as soon as they close around him he's crying silently but hard, his arm folded over his face.
"Hey, hey," Kyle says, disturbed. He looks up at Stan, but Stan is looking at Kenny, petting his hair.
"It's okay, dude," Stan says. He puts his chin on Kenny's shoulder. "Fuck, you know. This is good, it's fine. Let it out."
Stan is a big fan of crying. Kyle isn't; it makes him nervous, and he never knows what to say. He leans down and puts his face against the back of Kenny's neck, spooning him. For someone who basically lives in squalor and often reeks of cigarettes, Kenny occasionally has this smell like he does now, this brand-new, dewy cleanness, like he's been through an organic car wash.
"I'm sorry," Kenny says when he's stopped jerking with sobs, his face still hidden.
"Don't be sorry," Kyle says before Stan can.
"It's okay," Stan says, and Kenny starts crying again, actually making noise now: pained, high-pitched whining from the back of his throat. This time, when Kyle looks up, Stan meets his eyes.
"It's not okay," Kenny says. "This time. It's not, I don't think it is."
"Dude, what happened?" Stan asks, his voice breaking, but Kenny just cries.
He's quiet again after a few minutes of muffled whimpering into Stan's pillow, and he keeps his arm over his face while he sniffles, letting Stan and Kyle hold him. Stan is sniffling, too, stroking Kenny's hair. Kyle's heart is pounding against Kenny's back, his face tucked to Kenny's neck. He wonders if Kenny came here just wanting Stan, and he's stupidly, selfishly glad when Kenny takes his hand away from his puffy face and reaches back to cup Kyle's ear.
"Can I stay here?" Kenny asks, looking at Stan. "I just. I don't want my mom and my sister seeing me like this."
"Of course you can stay," Stan says, though it's a school night. Stan's parents know the McCormicks. They'll sympathize.
Stan walks Kyle to the front door. Stan's mother is in the kitchen, arguing with his father about the spiciness of the chili they're making. Kyle wants to ask to stay for dinner, but his parents are expecting him home, and one uninvited dinner guest is enough.
"What the fuck?" Kyle says when he's standing out on the front stoop. The rain has stopped, but the air still feels wet, and increasingly frigid now that night is falling.
"I don't know," Stan says. "I've never seen him like that."
"Me either."
They stand there contemplating each other for a moment, until Kyle feels awkward. He realizes that he's waiting for Stan to kiss him goodnight.
"I'll text you later," Stan says, and Kyle nods, leaves.
At home, he finishes his math homework at the kitchen table. He's distracted, wondering if Stan is still holding Kenny, listening to the things that Kenny didn't want to say in front of Kyle. From the other room he can hear his mother making horrified noises at some particularly sensational news story. Unable to concentrate, Kyle goes in to see what she's fussing about.
The South Park police have caught a serial killer who'd been operating in the suburbs of Denver for a couple of years. Barbrady looks proud of himself as he talks about an anonymous tip that led them directly to the killer's house. Kyle hasn't even heard of this killer before, and he generally expects to be kept abreast of local murderers who kill boys in his age group. Apparently the killer targeted 'at risk' youths who were generally assumed to be runaways when they disappeared. There's talk of three bodies buried in the backyard, possibly more victims buried deeper or elsewhere, evidence of torture, a basement with dirt walls that shows up in gritty photographs-- Kyle's mother turns it off.
“You'll have nightmares,” she says. She kisses Kyle's forehead and goes back into the kitchen to finish dinner. It's true that Kyle is prone to bad dreams if he sees something scary on TV, but he's more concerned about not being able to sleep when he lies there picturing what's going on in Stan's bed.
He feels guilty for worrying about that, because Kenny is hurting. In the kitchen, still flustered, Kyle's mother hugs his shoulders when he helps her chop the green onions. Kyle knows he's lucky, for all his parents' bitchiness. He resolves to kiss Stan tomorrow.
**
The next day, Stan doesn't tell him anything about what Kenny did or didn't say when they were alone together. Kyle doesn't kiss him.
**
A week later, Kenny seems okay. Two weeks later, he's back to normal, reclining on the bleachers during gym class while he flirts with the girls in the class, who shriek with laughter when Kenny makes the kind of inappropriate comments that would get Cartman slapped. Kyle and Stan are waiting to be tagged into a basketball game on the other side of the court. Stan is staring at Kenny, maybe because Wendy is one of the girls he's flirting with.
“Do you think Kenny uses sex as a coping mechanism?” Stan asks.
“Huh?” Kyle says. Stan shrugs. Jason comes over to tag Kyle into the game, and Stan has to shove him off the bench.
Later, they don't talk about it.
**
The serial killer is named Robert Burr, and he gets the death sentence. Barbrady gets a medal. They talk about sociopaths during Current Events Discussion in Kyle's gifted class, and it's mostly just people telling horror stories about the murders until the teacher shuts it down.
**
A year and a half goes by. They become juniors and get their driver's licenses. Kyle is driving to Dairy Queen one Saturday, Kenny in the passenger seat and Stan in the back with some girl whose name Kyle refuses to learn. A Prince song comes on the radio: “I Would Die For You.” Kenny reaches over to slap the radio off like it just spit in his face.
“Fucking hate that song,” he mutters, looking out the window. The girl in the back laughs.
**
The girl, a sophomore named Kacie, breaks up with Stan because he won't take her to the junior prom. Stan is going through one of his periods where he's unimpressed by everything. Most things openly offend him. Like corsages, and limo rentals, and DJs who play club remixes for white kids in suburban Colorado.
Kyle half-listens until Stan finishes ranting and leans over to lick his mouth open. Then Kyle is listening, pushing his iPad out of his lap, but they're not talking anymore. Stan pins Kyle to the couch and jerks him off while Cartman is in the bathroom down the hall; Kyle can hear the toilet flushing as he comes down from it, panting.
“Get off,” he says to Stan, because Cartman never washes his hands. Kyle manages to zip up before Cartman returns, bragging about the quality of the dump he just took. Stan holds a pillow over his crotch.
They're at Cartman's house for another hour, and Stan drives Kyle home. They're silent until they get to Kyle's house, Kyle chewing his lip and reminding himself again and again that he shouldn't ask if Stan did that to Kenny, once, that night when he was crying.
“You want me to return the favor?” Kyle asks when they're parked out in front of his house. Stan looks over at him, both hands still on the wheel.
“Kyle,” he says, and he leans over to kiss him. It's better this time, softer. Kyle slips two fingers between the buttons on Stan's flannel shirt, touching his skin. He can feel Stan's heart beating hard.
“I would,” Kyle says when Stan pulls back. “If you want, we could go inside, up to my room-”
“You're too good for me,” Stan says.
“Fuck that,” Kyle says. “Fuck you for saying that, you fucker-” He tries to shove Stan's shoulders, but Stan grabs his wrists and holds them, kisses him again.
That Saturday, Stan spends the night. They kiss a lot, touch each other some, and Kyle wants to ask Stan if he's his boyfriend now - he wants to ask Stan to the fucking prom - but he doesn't.
**
Robert Burr escapes that summer, during some kind of botched transport, in the middle of his much delayed trial appealing the death sentence. Barbrady mishandled the evidence, apparently. Kyle watches the news report, wondering if they took Barbrady's medal away. He's not interviewed.
Kyle's parents are out of town with Ike, who is a junior figure skating champion, competing at regionals in Denver. They call five times to make sure he's alright, and Kyle tells them he's fine, that all the guys are coming over. He kind of wishes it was just Stan, despite the sound of search copters that persists overhead at intervals. Kenny insisted on coming, too, and Cartman and Butters are fucking around with each other these days, so they took up the opportunity to join in. Butters hasn't been allowed to go to the Cartman household since his parents found his diary, which apparently was full of erotic nonfiction about his experiences with Eric. Kyle is considered sexless enough to host Butters, and Butters is the first one to show, dropped off by his father.
"It sure is scary!" Butters says, fidgeting while Kyle makes Kettle Korn. "I hope Eric gets here soon." He goes to the window and peers out into the backyard warily, hunting for serial killers in the bushes.
"What, you don't think I can protect you?" Kyle asks. Butters laughs, then looks at him guiltily. "I was better than Cartman in karate class," Kyle says. "If you'll recall."
Stan is the next to show up. He's got Dr. Pepper and mace.
"The mace is Shelly's," he says, handing it to Kyle. "She's a big fan of mace."
"What am I going to do with this?" Kyle asks.
"Mace bad guys," Stan says. "I'll hold them down, you mace them."
"Got it."
Cartman brings a crossbow. He's actually pretty good at archery - much better than he is at karate, or any other sport that requires more physical exertion than it takes to draw back a bowstring. Cartman has won some local competitions, and he famously shot an apple off of Butters' head at a party last year. He fucked Butters in Bebe's guest bathroom afterward. Kyle had to hear all about it from both of them, and the accounts were quite different, though they both described it as intensely enjoyable. Butters claims Cartman cried and proposed marriage; Cartman says Butters had "at least five" orgasms from taking his dick alone.
"How sweet would it be if I killed this motherfucker?" Cartman asks, pointing his crossbow at various objects in the Broflovski living room, including Kyle. "There's a two hundred thousand dollar reward, did you guys know that? Fuck, I should just go around town looking for the guy."
"No, Eric!" Butters says in an appropriately willowy tone, clutching at Cartman's elbow.
"Put that thing away," Kyle says. "I'm sure the last place this guy wants to hang around is the town where he got caught before. He's probably long gone by now."
"I don't know," Stan says. "They've got road blocks up all over the place. I had to show some cop my ID on the way over here."
"Fuck," Kyle says when he hears the helicopters again. He goes to the window and tries to spot them. "I hate that sound."
"How come?" Stan asks. "It means the police are up there, on the lookout."
"Just gives me the creeps," Kyle mutters, and Stan hugs him from behind. They're still not officially boyfriends, but everyone in their main group knows about them, which probably means that plenty of other people do, since Butters and Cartman are rivals for biggest mouth in school.
They're finished with the Kettle Korn by the time Kenny shows up. He's wearing a coat, though it's eighty degrees out even as night begins to fall. The coat is too big for him and looks like something that once belonged to his father, or Kevin.
"We already ordered the pizza," Kyle says as Kenny walks inside. "So you're too late for topping input."
"You know I'll eat anything," Kenny says, and he gives Kyle a weird look, a loose smile.
"You're drunk?" Kyle says. Kenny laughs.
"Yeah, kinda," he says. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a gun. "So you should probably hang on to that."
"What the fuck!" Kyle holds it like it's several eggs. "Is -- is the safety on?"
Kenny picks it up, checks, and nods.
"Sweet," Cartman says from the couch, seeing this. Stan is frowning. He doesn't like guns, or Kenny when he's drunk. They got sober together, sort of. They both fall off the wagon from time to time.
"I don't want it," Kyle says when Kenny tries to give him the gun again.
"Kenny, what are you doing?" Stan asks.
"He's being smart," Cartman says. "I'll hold the gun."
"Nope," Kenny says. He puts it back in his coat pocket and slides the coat off, hanging it on the banister of the stairs. "We'll just leave it there."
"You guys are all acting crazy," Kyle says. "This murderer is trying to get away. He's not looking for hostages."
"You don't know what he'll do," Kenny says. Kyle doesn't like the way Kenny is looking at him. "You never know. That's - the thing."
"Okay," Kyle says, slowly. Kenny scoffs and walks into the living room, rolling his shoulders.
They watch a dumb Mel Gibson movie, at Cartman's request, and Stan and Kyle take turns shouting at Cartman and Butters for their PDA. Kenny falls asleep with his head on the arm of the couch. Kyle sees Stan looking at him a few times, making his worried face.
After pizza, Kyle allows the others to talk him into putting on the news. There's round the clock, national coverage of the escape. It's weird seeing local landmarks on CNN. The helicopters return around two in the morning. Kyle heads up to bed, the others following.
"I call Kyle's bed!" Cartman says, bounding into it. The mattress complains with a shriek.
"Like hell you do!" Kyle says, but then Cartman starts licking his pillow, his sheets, anything he can get his tongue on.
"Oh, geez," Butters says, standing nearby and observing this. "Eric, that's no way to treat your host."
"Well?" Breathless, Cartman stretches out and props himself up on his elbow. "Do you want to change your sheets or sleep on the floor?"
"Whatever," Kyle says, too tired to deal with him. He makes a bed of sleeping bags and blankets and settles down in the middle, wiggling out of his jeans. Stan strips out of his before cuddling up to Kyle, arranging him into little spoon position. Kenny, mostly sober now and yawning constantly, stretches out on his back on Kyle's other side, still fully dressed except for his shoes. When they were kids, Kenny was always in his underwear during sleepovers, a lollipop sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he played Go Fish in his briefs, talking about how he couldn't wait to grow up and play strip poker. He notices Kyle staring at him and turns.
"Hey," he says, so softly that Kyle feels like he's being apologized to. Stan is already mostly asleep, nuzzling Kyle's neck.
"Hey," Kyle says. Butters is giggling and Cartman is talking in a low rumble that makes Kyle nervous about what he might try to do to Butters up there on his bed. Kyle would have to burn his mattress. "I wish those goddamn helicopters would go away," Kyle says. "I know they have a job to do, but, God. Why do they keep coming back here?"
"They're probably not that close," Kenny says. "It just sounds that way." He reaches over to touch Kyle's cheek in a way that makes him stiffen. He thinks of that day in Stan's bed, how happy he'd been when Kenny touched his ear. He'd wanted confirmation that Kenny needed him, too.
"Come here," Kyle says, dragging Kenny a little closer. They fall asleep holding hands, listening to Cartman snore.
Kyle wakes up from a bad dream, twitching under Stan's weight. Stan is still asleep, but Kenny is awake, lying on his back again. Kyle realizes why when he hears Butters breathing hard, the bed moving conspicuously. Kenny rolls toward Kyle and raises his eyebrows.
"Sick," Kyle says, only mouthing this. "What are they doing?"
"Listen," Kenny says, soundless, but Kyle reads his lips. Kyle makes a face. He doesn't want to listen, but then again. It's more like he doesn't want to admit that he's curious about the gay sex that Cartman and Butters claim to be having all the goddamn time. Stan hasn't even sucked Kyle's dick yet. Understandably, because it's terrifying, and Kyle hasn't offered to suck his, either.
"Ah!"
That was Butters. It was soft, but something about that attempt to hide the sound of it makes Kyle's dick stir. Kenny grins as if he knows, though he's still looking at Kyle's face. Cartman is breathing hard, blankets are rustling. If Kyle had to actually look at those two doing it, he'd be throwing up, but the sounds are strangely arousing. The way Kenny is looking at him is, too, as if they're doing something together, listening in on this. There's something about Kenny that makes Kyle unafraid to silently hold his gaze for a long time.
"Eric-ahh," Butters says, sighing. The bedsprings squeak. Kenny touches Kyle's chest when Cartman growls out what sounds like a climax.
In the aftermath, up on the bed, there's the wet, soft sound of kissing, Butters sighing. Kyle studies Kenny's eyes, and he feels like he can see all the way into him, like Kenny is asking him to, begging for it. Kenny has done what they're doing on the bed, with girls, certainly, and probably with boys. He's rubbing Kyle's nipples through his shirt. Kyle is incredibly hard, but it's different from when Stan reaches between his legs while they're making out in his car. He has that same yearning to be close to Kenny, but not if he can't share it with Stan, not if it isn't something Stan wants to give him, too. Stan is heavy on Kyle's back, and Kyle startles when he realizes why he feels so comfortable, protected from the various weirdness that's happening in his bedroom. All it takes is one flinch and Kenny's hand is gone.
"Go to sleep," Kenny says, inaudible but unmistakable. Up in the bed, Butters lets out a whimpery, contented sigh. Cartman is already snoring, more powerfully now.
Kyle shuts his eyes and tucks his hand under his jaw. His boner is throbbing, but he's glad to leave it alone. He smiles when Kenny strokes his face. He feels safe, even when the helicopters come again.
**
In the morning, Kyle wakes to the sound of his parents and Ike returning home. He rolls toward Stan, pushes his butt back greedily when Kenny spoons him, and falls asleep again. A couple of hours later, everyone wakes up in slow, muttering stages, Kyle throws a pillow at Cartman and accuses him of forever desecrating his bed, and Cartman laughs victoriously. Even Butters doesn't seem very repentant, which is far more annoying.
Downstairs, his parents are watching the news: at five o'clock in the morning, some maintenance worker at the Super 8 by the highway found Robert Burr hanging by the sleeve of his prison uniform in the utility shed. There's some speculation among the Broflovskis that it wasn't a suicide so much as the cops making an executive decision, but nobody on the news says so.
"Happy ending, either way," Kyle says. "His appeal was only based on a technicality. I mean, fucking hell. The bodies were buried in his backyard."
"Yeah, and now the taxpayers don't have to feed him three squares a day," Cartman says. He makes a fingerbang gun at the TV and fires it, though the bad guy is already dead. Kenny rises from the arm of the couch and heads toward the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" Stan calls.
"Smoke," Kenny says, holding up his cigarettes and giving them a shake, not turning.
Kyle walks out to keep him company after a few minutes. Kenny has his hood up, smoke billowing from it. Kyle stands beside him and checks the sliding glass doors behind them before asking:
"Why'd you stop? Last night. Cause-" He stops there, blushing. He really wants to ask Stan: What the fuck am I doing wrong? Do you think I don't want it?
Kenny looks over at him, blowing smoke from the corner of his lips, away from Kyle.
"You're too good for me," he says.
Kyle looks out at his backyard. He knows what happened that day, what Kenny said to Stan. He still doesn't know why Kenny was crying.
"Do you know what empathy means?" Kenny asks. Kyle scoffs.
"Yes," he says. "Um, I'm in Gifted. I know what empathy means."
"I bet you even know the Latin root or whatever the fuck," Kenny says. Kyle glances over at him, expecting a smirk, but Kenny doesn't seem to be making fun of him. His expression is impassive, tired.
"'Em,' is the root," Kyle says. "That's like - 'in,' um, to be 'in' a situation. To feel the same thing."
"Oh." Kenny taps his cigarette on the porch railing. "I would have thought it was more like. Pain."
"That's from punish," Kyle says. "The root of pain."
"Mhmm." Kenny tips his head back and forth as if he disagrees but doesn't want to offend Kyle by saying so. "Alright."
They have pancakes in honor of Ike, who took home first prize in boys' single skate, ages 11-14. Nobody mentions that those were the precise ages of the Robert Burr's victims, not even Cartman.
**
A couple of weeks later, Kyle yanks Stan's pants off and puts his mouth on his dick like he knows what he's doing. He doesn't, so he looks up at Stan, begging for approval. Stan comes on his face, convulsing like Kyle has electrocuted him.
"Sorry," Stan says, pulling Kyle to him and wiping Kyle's face with his hands. "Sorry, dude, fuck, just. I've been wanting that for - a while."
They have sex a week later, and Kyle feels so grown up that he's able to laugh when Stan says, afterward, that he wants to marry him someday. Then there's a lot of apologizing, kissing, coddling, promises, because Stan starts sobbing.
"I wanted you to take me to prom," Kyle says, petting Stan's cheeks while he continues to sniffle. "You know? That's why it's funny. Because it's such a relief."
"There's still senior prom," Stan says, and Kyle kisses him.
**
On the night of high school graduation, they go for a drive. Kyle is the designated driver; even Butters is shit-faced. Stan is actually the next-closest to sober. He never drinks much when he's happy. He's in the passenger seat, picking the songs.
"Pull over," Kenny says when they're on Lawrence Road, headed for Stark's Pond, because there are rumors of a senior bonfire there.
"Huh?" Kyle says.
"Pull over," Kenny says. "I have to piss."
He's stumbling when he gets out of the car. Cartman and Butters are too busy making out to notice, but Stan has.
"Dude," Stan says, bumping his fist against Kyle's shoulder. "Go make sure he's okay."
Kyle never knew how badly he needed Stan to trust him to do this. He nods and puts the car in park.
Kenny is in the middle of the field, which is actually less like a field and more like an abandoned lot, gravel and weeds. He's standing there with his dick out, and he doesn't actually start pissing until he hears Kyle's footsteps. When he's done he zips up, spits angrily, and smashes the beer bottle he was halfway through drinking so hard that Kyle jumps back a little. Then he spits again.
"Fuck," Kyle says. "You okay?"
Kenny walks to him and hugs his shoulders, pulling him away from the smashed glass, the knee-high weeds. He kisses Kyle's temple.
"I'm okay, Broflovski," he says, and he's smiling at the horizon in a way that makes Kyle believe him.
It's not until three years later, when Kyle reads an article about local teens performing Wiccan rites on the lot of the old Super 8, that he realizes where they were that night. The Super 8 couldn't sell rooms after what happened; it was razed. Even the lot on Lawrence Road wouldn't sell.
"What did Kenny tell you that night?" Kyle asks, ten years after the night in question, finished with college and living in Phoenix with Stan. "That night - or, afternoon, I guess, um. When we were fourteen? When he cried, and he spent the night with you and I. Didn't?"
"He didn't tell me anything," Stan says. They're on the balcony of their little apartment, and the fact that Kyle has been drinking a little too much - to celebrate being hired as a marketing assistant for Mesa Airlines - has contributed, maybe, to his boldness.
"Nothing?" Kyle puts his head on Stan's shoulder. They just bought these cheap deck chairs last weekend. Their apartment has a decent view of the sunset.
"No," Stan says. "I must have asked a thousand times, but he wouldn't tell me."
"Did he tell you that you were too good for him?"
"What?" Stan frowns at him. "Good for - what?"
"Did you give him a hand job?" Kyle asks, feeling pathetic. Stan laughs, which probably makes them even.
"Kenny?" he says.
"Yes, Kenny!"
"Um, no, dude. Why - would you think that?"
"I don't know! We never talked about what happened that night. After I left."
"We never talked about it because we were fourteen year old boys," Stan says. He sets his beer bottle on the ground and sits up a little straighter, sliding his arm around Kyle. "Dude, what. Why?"
"I don't know," Kyle says. "Isn't it cruel that we had to be together as fourteen year old boys? Me and you - we're so suited! But we had to have that awful start, because we were dumb kids."
"I don't know," Stan says. He kisses Kyle's forehead. "I have some fond memories of the times when we were dumb kids."
Kyle does, too, and he feels like he's drunkenly failing to articulate something larger. They faced true adversity, back then - he wants to say so. But of course they really didn't. Kenny did, maybe.
He calls Kenny in the morning, and they don't talk about that night, or that other night, or anything to do with South Park, except for Stan, who is more Kyle's now than something to do with South Park. Kenny sounds good, optimistic about the off Broadway play he's starring in, optimistic about some actress who is five years younger than him. Kyle is glad.
***
Title: Resurrection Blues
Author: formerdinosaur
Pairings: Stan/Kyle, Cartman/Butters
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~5,000
Warning: Dark themes pertaining to a serial killer
Summary: Kenny has a breakdown on the day a local serial killer is caught. Two years later, that killer escapes while Kyle's parents and Ike are out of town, and the boys gather at Kyle's house to "protect" him.
Notes: ughh..
It's one of those afternoons when Kyle isn't sure what they are. They're sitting together on Stan's bed after school, shoulders touching, books open. Stan is half asleep while Kyle explains something about geometric proofs. It's April, still slushy outside but warmer than it's been in months. They got rained on while they walked home from school, and Kyle can smell it on Stan's hair: that first refreshing spring rain shower after a long winter, the kind of shit Mr. Tweek gets poetic about on his local cable commercials.
Kyle suspects that this is one of those times when Stan is open to being kissed, because his knee is touching Kyle's thigh, and he's sighing a lot. Kyle has gotten caught feeling like an idiot in mid-swoon before; he's cautious but optimistic. Stan's head dips toward Kyle's shoulder when he yawns, and Kyle thinks he should probably try it. He fidgets until they're pressed a little more snugly together, and Stan does the same, flopping his hand over so that the backs of his fingers are touching Kyle's jeans.
It's all very delicate, like using the big telescope in Astronomy Club: small moves to get the perfect focus. They look at each other. Stan smiles, his fingers moving on Kyle's leg, just a little.
Some motherfucker's footsteps pound up the stairs out in the hallway.
They're both accustomed to not seeing Kenny for long stretches of time and waving lethargically when he suddenly reappears, but having him burst in through Stan's bedroom door looking like he got chased here by wild dogs is new.
"Oh," Kenny says when they both sit up in alarm, Stan's geometry book falling off his lap and onto the floor. Kenny's chest is jittery, and he's frozen in mid-stride. He clearly wasn't expecting to find Kyle here, which is stupid, Kyle thinks. He's always here.
"What's wrong?" Stan asks. "Where have you been, dude?"
"Nothing -- nowhere." Kenny shuts Stan's bedroom door. "Shit's just kind of fucked up at home."
Stan nods, and Kyle closes his book. They can both be counted upon not to ask for details when Kenny says that.
"C'mere," Stan says, and Kenny walks to the bed, avoiding their eyes.
Kenny takes off his shoes and gets into bed with them. Kyle scoots toward the wall, expecting Kenny to lie next to Stan, but he climbs between them, rolls toward Stan, and almost as soon as they close around him he's crying silently but hard, his arm folded over his face.
"Hey, hey," Kyle says, disturbed. He looks up at Stan, but Stan is looking at Kenny, petting his hair.
"It's okay, dude," Stan says. He puts his chin on Kenny's shoulder. "Fuck, you know. This is good, it's fine. Let it out."
Stan is a big fan of crying. Kyle isn't; it makes him nervous, and he never knows what to say. He leans down and puts his face against the back of Kenny's neck, spooning him. For someone who basically lives in squalor and often reeks of cigarettes, Kenny occasionally has this smell like he does now, this brand-new, dewy cleanness, like he's been through an organic car wash.
"I'm sorry," Kenny says when he's stopped jerking with sobs, his face still hidden.
"Don't be sorry," Kyle says before Stan can.
"It's okay," Stan says, and Kenny starts crying again, actually making noise now: pained, high-pitched whining from the back of his throat. This time, when Kyle looks up, Stan meets his eyes.
"It's not okay," Kenny says. "This time. It's not, I don't think it is."
"Dude, what happened?" Stan asks, his voice breaking, but Kenny just cries.
He's quiet again after a few minutes of muffled whimpering into Stan's pillow, and he keeps his arm over his face while he sniffles, letting Stan and Kyle hold him. Stan is sniffling, too, stroking Kenny's hair. Kyle's heart is pounding against Kenny's back, his face tucked to Kenny's neck. He wonders if Kenny came here just wanting Stan, and he's stupidly, selfishly glad when Kenny takes his hand away from his puffy face and reaches back to cup Kyle's ear.
"Can I stay here?" Kenny asks, looking at Stan. "I just. I don't want my mom and my sister seeing me like this."
"Of course you can stay," Stan says, though it's a school night. Stan's parents know the McCormicks. They'll sympathize.
Stan walks Kyle to the front door. Stan's mother is in the kitchen, arguing with his father about the spiciness of the chili they're making. Kyle wants to ask to stay for dinner, but his parents are expecting him home, and one uninvited dinner guest is enough.
"What the fuck?" Kyle says when he's standing out on the front stoop. The rain has stopped, but the air still feels wet, and increasingly frigid now that night is falling.
"I don't know," Stan says. "I've never seen him like that."
"Me either."
They stand there contemplating each other for a moment, until Kyle feels awkward. He realizes that he's waiting for Stan to kiss him goodnight.
"I'll text you later," Stan says, and Kyle nods, leaves.
At home, he finishes his math homework at the kitchen table. He's distracted, wondering if Stan is still holding Kenny, listening to the things that Kenny didn't want to say in front of Kyle. From the other room he can hear his mother making horrified noises at some particularly sensational news story. Unable to concentrate, Kyle goes in to see what she's fussing about.
The South Park police have caught a serial killer who'd been operating in the suburbs of Denver for a couple of years. Barbrady looks proud of himself as he talks about an anonymous tip that led them directly to the killer's house. Kyle hasn't even heard of this killer before, and he generally expects to be kept abreast of local murderers who kill boys in his age group. Apparently the killer targeted 'at risk' youths who were generally assumed to be runaways when they disappeared. There's talk of three bodies buried in the backyard, possibly more victims buried deeper or elsewhere, evidence of torture, a basement with dirt walls that shows up in gritty photographs-- Kyle's mother turns it off.
“You'll have nightmares,” she says. She kisses Kyle's forehead and goes back into the kitchen to finish dinner. It's true that Kyle is prone to bad dreams if he sees something scary on TV, but he's more concerned about not being able to sleep when he lies there picturing what's going on in Stan's bed.
He feels guilty for worrying about that, because Kenny is hurting. In the kitchen, still flustered, Kyle's mother hugs his shoulders when he helps her chop the green onions. Kyle knows he's lucky, for all his parents' bitchiness. He resolves to kiss Stan tomorrow.
**
The next day, Stan doesn't tell him anything about what Kenny did or didn't say when they were alone together. Kyle doesn't kiss him.
**
A week later, Kenny seems okay. Two weeks later, he's back to normal, reclining on the bleachers during gym class while he flirts with the girls in the class, who shriek with laughter when Kenny makes the kind of inappropriate comments that would get Cartman slapped. Kyle and Stan are waiting to be tagged into a basketball game on the other side of the court. Stan is staring at Kenny, maybe because Wendy is one of the girls he's flirting with.
“Do you think Kenny uses sex as a coping mechanism?” Stan asks.
“Huh?” Kyle says. Stan shrugs. Jason comes over to tag Kyle into the game, and Stan has to shove him off the bench.
Later, they don't talk about it.
**
The serial killer is named Robert Burr, and he gets the death sentence. Barbrady gets a medal. They talk about sociopaths during Current Events Discussion in Kyle's gifted class, and it's mostly just people telling horror stories about the murders until the teacher shuts it down.
**
A year and a half goes by. They become juniors and get their driver's licenses. Kyle is driving to Dairy Queen one Saturday, Kenny in the passenger seat and Stan in the back with some girl whose name Kyle refuses to learn. A Prince song comes on the radio: “I Would Die For You.” Kenny reaches over to slap the radio off like it just spit in his face.
“Fucking hate that song,” he mutters, looking out the window. The girl in the back laughs.
**
The girl, a sophomore named Kacie, breaks up with Stan because he won't take her to the junior prom. Stan is going through one of his periods where he's unimpressed by everything. Most things openly offend him. Like corsages, and limo rentals, and DJs who play club remixes for white kids in suburban Colorado.
Kyle half-listens until Stan finishes ranting and leans over to lick his mouth open. Then Kyle is listening, pushing his iPad out of his lap, but they're not talking anymore. Stan pins Kyle to the couch and jerks him off while Cartman is in the bathroom down the hall; Kyle can hear the toilet flushing as he comes down from it, panting.
“Get off,” he says to Stan, because Cartman never washes his hands. Kyle manages to zip up before Cartman returns, bragging about the quality of the dump he just took. Stan holds a pillow over his crotch.
They're at Cartman's house for another hour, and Stan drives Kyle home. They're silent until they get to Kyle's house, Kyle chewing his lip and reminding himself again and again that he shouldn't ask if Stan did that to Kenny, once, that night when he was crying.
“You want me to return the favor?” Kyle asks when they're parked out in front of his house. Stan looks over at him, both hands still on the wheel.
“Kyle,” he says, and he leans over to kiss him. It's better this time, softer. Kyle slips two fingers between the buttons on Stan's flannel shirt, touching his skin. He can feel Stan's heart beating hard.
“I would,” Kyle says when Stan pulls back. “If you want, we could go inside, up to my room-”
“You're too good for me,” Stan says.
“Fuck that,” Kyle says. “Fuck you for saying that, you fucker-” He tries to shove Stan's shoulders, but Stan grabs his wrists and holds them, kisses him again.
That Saturday, Stan spends the night. They kiss a lot, touch each other some, and Kyle wants to ask Stan if he's his boyfriend now - he wants to ask Stan to the fucking prom - but he doesn't.
**
Robert Burr escapes that summer, during some kind of botched transport, in the middle of his much delayed trial appealing the death sentence. Barbrady mishandled the evidence, apparently. Kyle watches the news report, wondering if they took Barbrady's medal away. He's not interviewed.
Kyle's parents are out of town with Ike, who is a junior figure skating champion, competing at regionals in Denver. They call five times to make sure he's alright, and Kyle tells them he's fine, that all the guys are coming over. He kind of wishes it was just Stan, despite the sound of search copters that persists overhead at intervals. Kenny insisted on coming, too, and Cartman and Butters are fucking around with each other these days, so they took up the opportunity to join in. Butters hasn't been allowed to go to the Cartman household since his parents found his diary, which apparently was full of erotic nonfiction about his experiences with Eric. Kyle is considered sexless enough to host Butters, and Butters is the first one to show, dropped off by his father.
"It sure is scary!" Butters says, fidgeting while Kyle makes Kettle Korn. "I hope Eric gets here soon." He goes to the window and peers out into the backyard warily, hunting for serial killers in the bushes.
"What, you don't think I can protect you?" Kyle asks. Butters laughs, then looks at him guiltily. "I was better than Cartman in karate class," Kyle says. "If you'll recall."
Stan is the next to show up. He's got Dr. Pepper and mace.
"The mace is Shelly's," he says, handing it to Kyle. "She's a big fan of mace."
"What am I going to do with this?" Kyle asks.
"Mace bad guys," Stan says. "I'll hold them down, you mace them."
"Got it."
Cartman brings a crossbow. He's actually pretty good at archery - much better than he is at karate, or any other sport that requires more physical exertion than it takes to draw back a bowstring. Cartman has won some local competitions, and he famously shot an apple off of Butters' head at a party last year. He fucked Butters in Bebe's guest bathroom afterward. Kyle had to hear all about it from both of them, and the accounts were quite different, though they both described it as intensely enjoyable. Butters claims Cartman cried and proposed marriage; Cartman says Butters had "at least five" orgasms from taking his dick alone.
"How sweet would it be if I killed this motherfucker?" Cartman asks, pointing his crossbow at various objects in the Broflovski living room, including Kyle. "There's a two hundred thousand dollar reward, did you guys know that? Fuck, I should just go around town looking for the guy."
"No, Eric!" Butters says in an appropriately willowy tone, clutching at Cartman's elbow.
"Put that thing away," Kyle says. "I'm sure the last place this guy wants to hang around is the town where he got caught before. He's probably long gone by now."
"I don't know," Stan says. "They've got road blocks up all over the place. I had to show some cop my ID on the way over here."
"Fuck," Kyle says when he hears the helicopters again. He goes to the window and tries to spot them. "I hate that sound."
"How come?" Stan asks. "It means the police are up there, on the lookout."
"Just gives me the creeps," Kyle mutters, and Stan hugs him from behind. They're still not officially boyfriends, but everyone in their main group knows about them, which probably means that plenty of other people do, since Butters and Cartman are rivals for biggest mouth in school.
They're finished with the Kettle Korn by the time Kenny shows up. He's wearing a coat, though it's eighty degrees out even as night begins to fall. The coat is too big for him and looks like something that once belonged to his father, or Kevin.
"We already ordered the pizza," Kyle says as Kenny walks inside. "So you're too late for topping input."
"You know I'll eat anything," Kenny says, and he gives Kyle a weird look, a loose smile.
"You're drunk?" Kyle says. Kenny laughs.
"Yeah, kinda," he says. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a gun. "So you should probably hang on to that."
"What the fuck!" Kyle holds it like it's several eggs. "Is -- is the safety on?"
Kenny picks it up, checks, and nods.
"Sweet," Cartman says from the couch, seeing this. Stan is frowning. He doesn't like guns, or Kenny when he's drunk. They got sober together, sort of. They both fall off the wagon from time to time.
"I don't want it," Kyle says when Kenny tries to give him the gun again.
"Kenny, what are you doing?" Stan asks.
"He's being smart," Cartman says. "I'll hold the gun."
"Nope," Kenny says. He puts it back in his coat pocket and slides the coat off, hanging it on the banister of the stairs. "We'll just leave it there."
"You guys are all acting crazy," Kyle says. "This murderer is trying to get away. He's not looking for hostages."
"You don't know what he'll do," Kenny says. Kyle doesn't like the way Kenny is looking at him. "You never know. That's - the thing."
"Okay," Kyle says, slowly. Kenny scoffs and walks into the living room, rolling his shoulders.
They watch a dumb Mel Gibson movie, at Cartman's request, and Stan and Kyle take turns shouting at Cartman and Butters for their PDA. Kenny falls asleep with his head on the arm of the couch. Kyle sees Stan looking at him a few times, making his worried face.
After pizza, Kyle allows the others to talk him into putting on the news. There's round the clock, national coverage of the escape. It's weird seeing local landmarks on CNN. The helicopters return around two in the morning. Kyle heads up to bed, the others following.
"I call Kyle's bed!" Cartman says, bounding into it. The mattress complains with a shriek.
"Like hell you do!" Kyle says, but then Cartman starts licking his pillow, his sheets, anything he can get his tongue on.
"Oh, geez," Butters says, standing nearby and observing this. "Eric, that's no way to treat your host."
"Well?" Breathless, Cartman stretches out and props himself up on his elbow. "Do you want to change your sheets or sleep on the floor?"
"Whatever," Kyle says, too tired to deal with him. He makes a bed of sleeping bags and blankets and settles down in the middle, wiggling out of his jeans. Stan strips out of his before cuddling up to Kyle, arranging him into little spoon position. Kenny, mostly sober now and yawning constantly, stretches out on his back on Kyle's other side, still fully dressed except for his shoes. When they were kids, Kenny was always in his underwear during sleepovers, a lollipop sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he played Go Fish in his briefs, talking about how he couldn't wait to grow up and play strip poker. He notices Kyle staring at him and turns.
"Hey," he says, so softly that Kyle feels like he's being apologized to. Stan is already mostly asleep, nuzzling Kyle's neck.
"Hey," Kyle says. Butters is giggling and Cartman is talking in a low rumble that makes Kyle nervous about what he might try to do to Butters up there on his bed. Kyle would have to burn his mattress. "I wish those goddamn helicopters would go away," Kyle says. "I know they have a job to do, but, God. Why do they keep coming back here?"
"They're probably not that close," Kenny says. "It just sounds that way." He reaches over to touch Kyle's cheek in a way that makes him stiffen. He thinks of that day in Stan's bed, how happy he'd been when Kenny touched his ear. He'd wanted confirmation that Kenny needed him, too.
"Come here," Kyle says, dragging Kenny a little closer. They fall asleep holding hands, listening to Cartman snore.
Kyle wakes up from a bad dream, twitching under Stan's weight. Stan is still asleep, but Kenny is awake, lying on his back again. Kyle realizes why when he hears Butters breathing hard, the bed moving conspicuously. Kenny rolls toward Kyle and raises his eyebrows.
"Sick," Kyle says, only mouthing this. "What are they doing?"
"Listen," Kenny says, soundless, but Kyle reads his lips. Kyle makes a face. He doesn't want to listen, but then again. It's more like he doesn't want to admit that he's curious about the gay sex that Cartman and Butters claim to be having all the goddamn time. Stan hasn't even sucked Kyle's dick yet. Understandably, because it's terrifying, and Kyle hasn't offered to suck his, either.
"Ah!"
That was Butters. It was soft, but something about that attempt to hide the sound of it makes Kyle's dick stir. Kenny grins as if he knows, though he's still looking at Kyle's face. Cartman is breathing hard, blankets are rustling. If Kyle had to actually look at those two doing it, he'd be throwing up, but the sounds are strangely arousing. The way Kenny is looking at him is, too, as if they're doing something together, listening in on this. There's something about Kenny that makes Kyle unafraid to silently hold his gaze for a long time.
"Eric-ahh," Butters says, sighing. The bedsprings squeak. Kenny touches Kyle's chest when Cartman growls out what sounds like a climax.
In the aftermath, up on the bed, there's the wet, soft sound of kissing, Butters sighing. Kyle studies Kenny's eyes, and he feels like he can see all the way into him, like Kenny is asking him to, begging for it. Kenny has done what they're doing on the bed, with girls, certainly, and probably with boys. He's rubbing Kyle's nipples through his shirt. Kyle is incredibly hard, but it's different from when Stan reaches between his legs while they're making out in his car. He has that same yearning to be close to Kenny, but not if he can't share it with Stan, not if it isn't something Stan wants to give him, too. Stan is heavy on Kyle's back, and Kyle startles when he realizes why he feels so comfortable, protected from the various weirdness that's happening in his bedroom. All it takes is one flinch and Kenny's hand is gone.
"Go to sleep," Kenny says, inaudible but unmistakable. Up in the bed, Butters lets out a whimpery, contented sigh. Cartman is already snoring, more powerfully now.
Kyle shuts his eyes and tucks his hand under his jaw. His boner is throbbing, but he's glad to leave it alone. He smiles when Kenny strokes his face. He feels safe, even when the helicopters come again.
**
In the morning, Kyle wakes to the sound of his parents and Ike returning home. He rolls toward Stan, pushes his butt back greedily when Kenny spoons him, and falls asleep again. A couple of hours later, everyone wakes up in slow, muttering stages, Kyle throws a pillow at Cartman and accuses him of forever desecrating his bed, and Cartman laughs victoriously. Even Butters doesn't seem very repentant, which is far more annoying.
Downstairs, his parents are watching the news: at five o'clock in the morning, some maintenance worker at the Super 8 by the highway found Robert Burr hanging by the sleeve of his prison uniform in the utility shed. There's some speculation among the Broflovskis that it wasn't a suicide so much as the cops making an executive decision, but nobody on the news says so.
"Happy ending, either way," Kyle says. "His appeal was only based on a technicality. I mean, fucking hell. The bodies were buried in his backyard."
"Yeah, and now the taxpayers don't have to feed him three squares a day," Cartman says. He makes a fingerbang gun at the TV and fires it, though the bad guy is already dead. Kenny rises from the arm of the couch and heads toward the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" Stan calls.
"Smoke," Kenny says, holding up his cigarettes and giving them a shake, not turning.
Kyle walks out to keep him company after a few minutes. Kenny has his hood up, smoke billowing from it. Kyle stands beside him and checks the sliding glass doors behind them before asking:
"Why'd you stop? Last night. Cause-" He stops there, blushing. He really wants to ask Stan: What the fuck am I doing wrong? Do you think I don't want it?
Kenny looks over at him, blowing smoke from the corner of his lips, away from Kyle.
"You're too good for me," he says.
Kyle looks out at his backyard. He knows what happened that day, what Kenny said to Stan. He still doesn't know why Kenny was crying.
"Do you know what empathy means?" Kenny asks. Kyle scoffs.
"Yes," he says. "Um, I'm in Gifted. I know what empathy means."
"I bet you even know the Latin root or whatever the fuck," Kenny says. Kyle glances over at him, expecting a smirk, but Kenny doesn't seem to be making fun of him. His expression is impassive, tired.
"'Em,' is the root," Kyle says. "That's like - 'in,' um, to be 'in' a situation. To feel the same thing."
"Oh." Kenny taps his cigarette on the porch railing. "I would have thought it was more like. Pain."
"That's from punish," Kyle says. "The root of pain."
"Mhmm." Kenny tips his head back and forth as if he disagrees but doesn't want to offend Kyle by saying so. "Alright."
They have pancakes in honor of Ike, who took home first prize in boys' single skate, ages 11-14. Nobody mentions that those were the precise ages of the Robert Burr's victims, not even Cartman.
**
A couple of weeks later, Kyle yanks Stan's pants off and puts his mouth on his dick like he knows what he's doing. He doesn't, so he looks up at Stan, begging for approval. Stan comes on his face, convulsing like Kyle has electrocuted him.
"Sorry," Stan says, pulling Kyle to him and wiping Kyle's face with his hands. "Sorry, dude, fuck, just. I've been wanting that for - a while."
They have sex a week later, and Kyle feels so grown up that he's able to laugh when Stan says, afterward, that he wants to marry him someday. Then there's a lot of apologizing, kissing, coddling, promises, because Stan starts sobbing.
"I wanted you to take me to prom," Kyle says, petting Stan's cheeks while he continues to sniffle. "You know? That's why it's funny. Because it's such a relief."
"There's still senior prom," Stan says, and Kyle kisses him.
**
On the night of high school graduation, they go for a drive. Kyle is the designated driver; even Butters is shit-faced. Stan is actually the next-closest to sober. He never drinks much when he's happy. He's in the passenger seat, picking the songs.
"Pull over," Kenny says when they're on Lawrence Road, headed for Stark's Pond, because there are rumors of a senior bonfire there.
"Huh?" Kyle says.
"Pull over," Kenny says. "I have to piss."
He's stumbling when he gets out of the car. Cartman and Butters are too busy making out to notice, but Stan has.
"Dude," Stan says, bumping his fist against Kyle's shoulder. "Go make sure he's okay."
Kyle never knew how badly he needed Stan to trust him to do this. He nods and puts the car in park.
Kenny is in the middle of the field, which is actually less like a field and more like an abandoned lot, gravel and weeds. He's standing there with his dick out, and he doesn't actually start pissing until he hears Kyle's footsteps. When he's done he zips up, spits angrily, and smashes the beer bottle he was halfway through drinking so hard that Kyle jumps back a little. Then he spits again.
"Fuck," Kyle says. "You okay?"
Kenny walks to him and hugs his shoulders, pulling him away from the smashed glass, the knee-high weeds. He kisses Kyle's temple.
"I'm okay, Broflovski," he says, and he's smiling at the horizon in a way that makes Kyle believe him.
It's not until three years later, when Kyle reads an article about local teens performing Wiccan rites on the lot of the old Super 8, that he realizes where they were that night. The Super 8 couldn't sell rooms after what happened; it was razed. Even the lot on Lawrence Road wouldn't sell.
"What did Kenny tell you that night?" Kyle asks, ten years after the night in question, finished with college and living in Phoenix with Stan. "That night - or, afternoon, I guess, um. When we were fourteen? When he cried, and he spent the night with you and I. Didn't?"
"He didn't tell me anything," Stan says. They're on the balcony of their little apartment, and the fact that Kyle has been drinking a little too much - to celebrate being hired as a marketing assistant for Mesa Airlines - has contributed, maybe, to his boldness.
"Nothing?" Kyle puts his head on Stan's shoulder. They just bought these cheap deck chairs last weekend. Their apartment has a decent view of the sunset.
"No," Stan says. "I must have asked a thousand times, but he wouldn't tell me."
"Did he tell you that you were too good for him?"
"What?" Stan frowns at him. "Good for - what?"
"Did you give him a hand job?" Kyle asks, feeling pathetic. Stan laughs, which probably makes them even.
"Kenny?" he says.
"Yes, Kenny!"
"Um, no, dude. Why - would you think that?"
"I don't know! We never talked about what happened that night. After I left."
"We never talked about it because we were fourteen year old boys," Stan says. He sets his beer bottle on the ground and sits up a little straighter, sliding his arm around Kyle. "Dude, what. Why?"
"I don't know," Kyle says. "Isn't it cruel that we had to be together as fourteen year old boys? Me and you - we're so suited! But we had to have that awful start, because we were dumb kids."
"I don't know," Stan says. He kisses Kyle's forehead. "I have some fond memories of the times when we were dumb kids."
Kyle does, too, and he feels like he's drunkenly failing to articulate something larger. They faced true adversity, back then - he wants to say so. But of course they really didn't. Kenny did, maybe.
He calls Kenny in the morning, and they don't talk about that night, or that other night, or anything to do with South Park, except for Stan, who is more Kyle's now than something to do with South Park. Kenny sounds good, optimistic about the off Broadway play he's starring in, optimistic about some actress who is five years younger than him. Kyle is glad.
***