Authors Note: I know, I probably shouldn't be starting another story. Especially one where I have only a vague clue where it's going. lol I haven't given up on Losing You and Heart of Glass. Both chapters of each should be out shortly. Before Christmas. Now, lets hope that everyone can stop drooling over the Twilight movie long enough to actually get interested in a little SP love?
Disclaimer: Do not own South Park.
Chapter 1- Snow
"Shit," I muttered, the profanity coated in quiet disbelief.
Outside the door of Park County High it was snowing. Fucking snowing, and dammit, I had believed the weather man when he said it'd be sunny this week. For a moment I just stood there, watching the flakes spiral down softly, forming shoddy patterns against the cold glass window. The gentle dusting of pure white was already caked along the ground, pristine and glistening with radiance. It would be a picturesque scene for anyone who hadn't been raised an assumed Eskimo child in South Park. To me, the entire charade was nothing but the epitome of inconvenient.
"Shit," I cursed again, final and venomous as I pulled my green sweat-jacket closer around myself. A gust of cold air rushed up to meet me as I opened the door, sharply cutting off my breath. I gritted my teeth and plowed through the already trampled blanket of snow.
This was all Eric Fatass Cartman's fault, as usual. He was supposed to be my ride home, but he had decided he'd rather spend an hour after school serving detention with Kenny than see to it I actually got home on time to avoid the wrath of my fire-breathing mother. This would be the third time in less than two weeks I had to call Craig—who was always gone the moment the bell rang—and ask him to pick up my little brother, Ike, while he was already stopping by the middle school for his sister. And my mom wasn't getting any happier about Ike spending time with the Tucker children; he'd recently taken to the habit of flipping people off and couldn't seem to control it.
Cartman told me to wait for him in the library, which would have been fine; I wanted to get a head start on my English report anyway. But hell would freeze over before I'd ever give him the satisfaction of fulfilling his commands. Walking in the snow wasn't so bad, but I hadn't been prepared and would probably freeze to death before I made it halfway. No hat, no gloves, and nothing beneath my thin sweat-jacket besides a light cotton T-shirt.
The only thing mildly decent about this situation was the fact that for once I actually wasn't thinking about him. Usually I had to invent things to distract myself with, like counting the edges of various objects or playing Kenny's game of imagining what kind of underwear everyone wears. But, Christ, this was Cartman we were talking about here, and he was the only person who could wipe my mind entirely of everything except my profound loathing of him. I cursed his name beneath my breath, trying to be careful as I eased across the slick concrete of the first departing step. But I was still heavily under the influence of irritation and slipped a little when I clomped down too hard. My hand latched onto the support-railing.
"Goddammit," I raved. I felt the simmering anger in my blood come full boil when someone chuckled at my clumsiness. My glare followed the noise, wavering when I recognized the figure lurking just to the left. He was leaning against the steel railing a few steps down, arms crossed casually as the dark blue of his gaze followed my movements. Snow feathered delicately against his cheeks and lined along the shoulders of his black hoodie, but he made no attempt to shield himself. My jaw went slack as I took him in: lanky body, hair the color of dark chocolate, a soft dimple on his right cheek.
My breath hitched, pulse points jolting to an erratic throb. Slowly, my eyes widened. "...Stan?" I whispered, hardly daring to believe it. He flashed a smile, and the gesture lit up his entire face.
"Kyle." He laughed loudly; pure, unrefined happiness bubbling out of his throat. "Oh, God, Kyle!"
"Stan!" I dropped my overstuffed book bag, my belongings spilling out and forgotten in the snow as I flung myself at him. He received me eagerly, softly chuckling at my enthusiasm. "Oh, God." I squeezed my arms tighter around his waist, unable to keep the urgency out of my voice. "Oh, God... Oh, God..."
He turned his face into my neck, and I felt his eyes flutter closed. "Shhh. Easy, Ky," he whispered, rubbing circles into my back. "It's okay, I'm right here. It's okay."
Tears burned beneath my eyelids. I didn't even try to be strong; I dissolved completely in his embrace, letting my shoulders shake with muted sobs. He held me firmly, gently shushing me, but I could hear the hitch in his voice every time he spoke my name.
Stan had left South Park over a year ago, and I hadn't spoken to him since. The last words between us had been vicious and spiteful in the midst of our breakup. Three days before his departing plane, not even twenty-four hours after we'd given our virginity to each other. I was too angry to care when he left, too hurt and too proud to admit how deeply it ached until a week after he'd already been gone. And even then I'd felt too betrayed and too guilty by everything that had happened to even attempt to contact him.
I knew we'd still have to talk about it, sort things out. Eventually it was going to come up. But for now we clung shamelessly to each other, a year of emptiness, heartache, and regret evaporating in an instant. I had dreamed of this moment every minute since he'd been gone, but I honestly thought I'd never see him again. God help anyone who tried to mock me for this moment of public affection.
"God, I've missed you," he whispered, and I trembled against him, snuggling deeper into the warmth of his arms. His embrace was all too familiar, as if he'd held me yesterday. For a moment I forgot about everything that had happened between then and now and wondered how I'd ever gotten by without him. But guilt speared me seconds after the thought occurred, and I pulled away with reluctance, keeping our bodies at close proximity.
Tears were welling around the bottom rims of his eyes. He quickly swabbed them away, laughing gently at how emotional we'd gotten. I beamed at him through my own sentiment and brushed some snow off his shoulder, unable to keep from touching him for too long. I had to know he was real.
"You're...Jesus, Stan, I... fuck, I can't believe it's really you," I said, the first to break the silence. "How long have you been back? Where are you staying?"
"I'm kind of staying with you until the deal on the house goes through," He answered sheepishly. "Your mom insisted. And I've only been in South Park about two hours. My parents said I should wait until you got home, but I couldn't help myself. I had to see you."
There went my heart, just as it always had in past, mutating into a lopsided tangle as it began melting under his smile. But something else he said had caught my attention. I waved my hands in front of me. "Wait, wait. The deal on the house? You mean-?"
He nodded. "Yeah, Kyle, I'm back. For good."
"Fuck, dude!" I wailed, clutching his shoulders. It was hard not to notice they'd widened a little. "How'd that happen?"
"They're back together again," Stan said, referring to his parents. They'd gotten separated, Randy moving to Montana and Sharon toting Shelly and Stan with her to Florida. "My dad actually moved out to Florida two months after the separation, and they worked things out in under a week," he explained. "It just took them this long to get sick of the impending hurricanes and miss the snow."
"God bless South Park."
"Amen." He saluted the South Park banner draped idly against the towering flagpole. "You're gonna have to catch me up on everything, Ky. You still hang out with Kenny and Cartman, right?"
There was a prick like ice somewhere inside me, and my smile felt suddenly plastic. "Yeah. Yeah, they're in detention."
Stan's smile widened, his eyes glittering with dark interest. "What was it this time?"
"They stuck T-pins in a block of clay and left it on the science teachers chair. It was actually pretty funny, he yelped like a Chihuahua."
Stan laughed, and I couldn't help but join him. "So you're still managing to put up with Cartman?"
Words eluded me. I could actually feel my face go white, which was strange. Since Cartman had so brashly outted me to my parents, I hadn't exactly cared much about who knew about my boyfriend. I could pack a punch that would knock the wind out of anyone in a single blow. But as I looked at Stan, his eyes twinkling with silvery humor, I realized I wasn't okay with the prospect of him knowing. And that made me feel like the lowest piece of shit on Earth.
"God, Stan...I-" My cell jingled in my pocket. I smiled apologetically and pulled it out, guilt flooding me when I read the name. My eyes locked with Stan's as I flipped it open and brought it to my ear. "Cartman?"
"Where the hell are you, Jew boy? I told you to wait in the library."
Stan's eyes had lit up when I said Cartman's name, and he pressed the side of his face against mine to listen. I angled my phone so he could hear. "I know, but-"
"But, I'm in the goddamn library and you're not!" Cartman cut me off. "You want to tell me why that is, Kahl?"
Stan suppressed a snicker. I glowered. "Aren't you supposed to be in detention? Detention goes for an hour, Lardass, not ten minutes."
"It's called negotiation, Kike. And if you call me fat one more time, I swear to God I'll-"
"You'll what?" I fired back. "Sit on me? Bulldoze me with your massive stomach? Smother me in chocolate syrup and eat me for dessert?" There was hesitation on the line, and I felt my stomach lurch when I realized what had slipped out. I cast a sideways glance at Stan and swallowed hard.
"Now you're thinking more along my level," Cartman said, almost whispered, his voice dropping to a deep, husky tone. "I may take you up on that offer. For now, you've got five minutes to get your Jew ass in here."
Nothing got my rage going like Cartman giving me orders. I pressed my lips into a hard, angry line. Any trace of guilt or embarrassment quickly dissolved in my never ending pool of fury toward him. "My ass isn't going anywhere. I'm the one who had to wait for you, fat boy, so you'll have to come to me. I'm in front of the building. You have five minutes before I run my key over your cars' pretty red paint."
"Kahl! I'm so ser-"
I crunched my phone closed and jammed it back into my pocket. Stan was looking at me curiously, a puzzled quirk arching his eyebrow. "What was that all about?"
"What?" I sneered, still defensive. I knew what was coming next; fuck, I knew what I had to tell him, and I really didn't want to. I moved back up the stairs and began shoving items back into my book bag, mostly for an excuse not to look at him. "Cartman and I have always argued like that."
"Well, yeah, but..." He fumbled for words a moment, then finally gave up with a frustrated grunt. "Chocolate syrup?"
I closed my eyes with a resigned sigh and leaned my face into my hand, still crouched on the snow covered step. "I was seriously only making a fat joke."
"But Cartman said-"
"I know. I didn't finish." I flung my book bag over my shoulder and stood, shifting uneasily beneath his analyzing stare. Nothing I could do would make this blow any softer or easier to digest. Nothing I could do would make it any more believable. And I couldn't stall. Cartman was surely racing as fast as a hippo possibly could, and who knew how he would expose the truth. There was nothing I could do but plunge. "Cartman and I are dating."
Stan just stared at me, blinking twice. I watched an array of emotions play across his face: confusion, disbelief, shock, horror, confusion again. Finally, I could see the puzzle pieces putting themselves in order, and when the last one found its way home, a smile spread slowly across his face. He chuckled lowly, biting into his lip, and then doubled over laughing.
I adjusted the leather strap of my bag across my shoulder and sighed, waiting for him to get a hold of himself. If he were any other person, his balls would have been ground up and stuffed in the base of his throat right about now. But I had expected him to laugh. Either that, or vomit all over my shoes. It wasn't like I could blame him; if I told myself two years ago that someday Cartman would spear his tongue down my throat and I'd like it, I'd probably shoot myself just to prevent it from ever happening. But it had happened, I did like it, and for fuck's sake, somehow I had to convince Stan it wasn't a joke before the fatshit paraded out here and said something retarded.
"God, Kyle," Stan wheezed, clapping me on the shoulder. "Your sense of humor is seriously twisted now. I actually believed you for a minute." He was still laughing, using my shoulder as a crutch. My skin tingled beneath the fabric where his hand rested.
"Stan," I said, trying to sound as serious as possible. "Stan, I wasn't joking."
The melodious bells of his voice cut off abruptly. His eyes sharpened, focusing on my expression, searching frantically for any sort of waver that would call my bullshit. He found none. I could tell when the reality began to rain down on him by the way his jaw slackened, lips parting slightly. "Y-you..." An unstable sigh escaped me as I nodded. Stan let out a nervous breath of a laugh, suddenly blinking feverishly. "Dating? As in dating dating?
"He's my boyfriend," I confessed, and was surprised how easily the words rolled off my tongue. They sounded a lot more confident than I felt inside.
Stan still looked confused. "But, it...you...just called him a lardass."
"He is a lardass, Stan. He's just, you know," I shrugged. "My lardass."
His eyes widened another degree. "Jesus Christ, Dude!"
The school doors were kicked open with a loud bang, Cartman bursting through with Kenny trailing idly behind, laughing because it was always funny watching the waddle that was Cartman's run. I'd almost forgotten I was angry with the fatass until I looked into his accusing, chocolate brown eyes. Mine narrowed in return, unflinching as he marched toward me, his pudgy cheeks red with anger.
"Kahl, I swear to God, if you laid one Jew finger on my-" He cut off sharply when he spotted Stan, arms poised threateningly in the air.
It took Kenny seconds to swallow his own shock and let out a loud whoop of excitement. He charged directly into Stan's arms, kissing him soundly on the lips before he could protest. "Stanley-fucking-Marsh!" He exclaimed, then enveloped him in a bone cracking hug. "What the hell are you doing in this fucking shit hole?"
"He's moving back," I answered, unable to contain the wild grin that tore across my face. "And he's staying with me until his parents can find something."
"Is that so?" Cartman asked. He inched close against my side, then gripped my hand almost painfully in his. I winced, but said nothing. His touch was always kind of rough and I guess I'd sort of gotten used to it.
Stan's gaze followed his movements, pausing on our interlocked hands. I caught a glimpse of a frown for a moment, then he smiled up at us. "It shouldn't take too long. My parents already put an offer on a house by phone yesterday. If that goes through, we'll be out of there in no time. I hope it's okay."
"Okay?" I scoffed, reaching out to sock him playfully in the navel. Cartman's grip tightened around my fingers. "Dude, it's great!"
"Yeah, dude, it's great!" Kenny repeated, still hanging off Stan's neck. "We should all sleep over at Kyle's tonight. We'll stay up late, eat junk food, play gamespere-"
"You know that Kahl's a total faggot for me now, right, Stan?" Cartman asked suddenly, cutting Kenny off mid-sentence.
I elbowed him sharply in the gut, which only served to make his smirk widened. Kenny rolled his eyes, and Stan looked between us fleetingly. "Uh, yeah. Kyle... Kyle told me you two were-"
"Fucking like rabbits," Cartman supplied. This time, I socked him square in the ribs. He swore colorfully, but was still beaming at the uncomfortable look on Stan's face. Kenny laughed.
"Knock it off, Cartman," I warned, taking a defensive step back. Cartman hauled me back into him, determined to keep me close. He hadn't known five minutes that Stan was back, and already he was livid with jealousy. He'd always been envious of the bond Stan and I shared. That had been obvious even before he'd admitted it to me, but I wasn't going to let him keep me on a leash because of it. I wrenched my arm free and shoved my hands into my pockets, my eyes burning holes into the slush on the ground.
Kenny kicked snow at me, grinning. "So, how 'bout it, hot ass? Can we play slumber party, too?"
I looked up, smiling despite my underlying anger. "What kind of mood was my mom in?" I asked Stan. His grin came back.
"Tame to mild," he said. "In fact, she keeps saying how happy you're going to be that I'm back. She said you haven't been yourself since we left." He looked down at his shoes, his eyes dancing with hopeful questioning.
I could practically feel Cartman's body heat grow five degrees hotter, his bulky form sweating and trembling with barely controlled fury. "You and Stan can have your faggy little sleepover," he told Kenny, managing to sound calm when I knew damn well that he wasn't. His nails were biting into my palm. "Kahl and I already have plans."
I turned on him. "What are you talking about, Cartman? We don't have anything planned."
"That's because it was supposed to be a surprised," he hissed, narrowing his eyes at Stan like he'd told me a birthday secret. Stan glanced at Kenny, who shrugged. Cartman focused on me again, looking thoughtful a moment. "I got us tickets to that play in Denver you've been bitching about wanting to see."
I gasped sharply. "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?"
"Yeah, that," Cartman said offhandedly, wiping an imaginary stain off his brown jacket.
"Cartman! That's..." I paused, glancing at Stan. His eyes flickered with disappointment, but he quickly snuffed it out, not wanting me to feel guilty. I looked back at Cartman, smiling faintly. "Uh, thanks, Cartman. That's really nice and everything, but-"
"No, no," Stan laughed softly, touching my shoulder. "Ky, you should go."
"Yes, Kahl, you should go." Cartman echoed dangerously, his eyes swimming in watery hatred.
"I promise I'll still be here when you get back," said Stan. He drew a cross against his heart, then gave my shoulder a friendly pat. I hesitated for a beat, then returned his smile.
"Great. Let's get a move on, shall we? We've got dinner reservations at six." Cartman coiled his fingers around my arm and started toward his car.
"Wait." I pulled away and turned back to Stan and Kenny. Cartman sighed loudly. "Do you guys need a ride or anything?"
"Got it covered," said Stan. He fished a ring of keys out of his pants pocket and twirled them around his index finger, grinning. "Have fun, Ky."
Kenny grabbed Stan's shoulder, pulling him into his side. "Don't worry, hotass, I'll keep him safe from your fire-breathing dragon of a mom."
Cartman actually snickered at that. He seized my hand and ripped me away, toward his car. I was still too busy reveling in the fact that Stan was actually back in South Park to notice Cartman's silence as we slipped into the small cavern of his Corvette—compliments of his mom's late night "work."
I flipped the heater on the moment he started the engine, shaking coldly in the plush bucket seat and wondering if he was feeling generous enough today to let me wear his jacket. One look at his still angry eyes and I decided I'd better not push my luck. I blew into my hands and pulled the seatbelt over my chest. Cartman paused as he was adjusting the rearview mirror, squinted into it, and then scoffed. "He has a Mustang?"
My seatbelt recoiled, snapping back into place as I released it in favor of twisting around to peer out the back window. Stan and Kenny were slipping into a Mustang with Florida plates that read Marsh92. A nice car. Not new enough or old enough to be a very expensive and sought after model, but still impressive. The silver paint gleamed where the snow hadn't yet coated it.
Cartman seethed. He hated it when anyone else had a cool car, which up until today had included Token exclusively. No one else our age could afford anything more extravagant than used station wagons and VW bugs. The old kind. And that was only the handful of kids who were lucky enough to have their own car. The rest had to beg and grovel to use their parents vehicles on the weekends.
All except me, of course. I couldn't even pass my driving test.
"He's got a lot of nerve," Cartman growled. I looked at him, frowning. He waited until Stan had backed out of the parking space before looking at me, fingers curling bitterly against his thighs.
"It's not a crime to have a cool car," I said, unsurprised by his malice. I was getting pretty sick of his juvenile flare-ups with Token about whose car was more bad ass. I was done pacifying his inconsistent ego.
"I don't care about his fucking car. Mustangs are for faggots anyway," he said, impassive. I opened my mouth, then closed it again when his eyes softened. He took my hand carefully, stroking his thumb across my knuckles. "I mean how he just waltzed back into South Park in his designer clothes and pussy sports car like he's Arthur Fonzerelli and expects you to forget about all the shit he put you through."
I hesitated, hurt, and turned to look out the side window. Cartman always knew exactly where to twist the knife. But strangely, he'd been the most understanding after Stan had left. My sole source of support. He used a firm hand when dealing with my emotional breakdowns, but the point was that he had somehow gotten me through, stabilized the tears. I didn't know where I'd be now if it weren't for him.
He captured my chin, turning my head to face him again. He studied my eyes a moment, contemplating. Doing whatever it was he did to read into my soul. It was always unnerving to let him see that deep, always a risk because he was such a manipulative bastard. And it was a little scary this time to let him see just how much I still loved Stan. It was frightening to retain the power to break Cartman's heart.
I closed my eyes, not wanting him to see. His mouth closed over mine possessively, impatiently loosening up my lips with his tongue. I squeezed my eyes tighter and kissed him back, trying hard to release the image of Stan in my head.
But all I could see were haunted blue eyes.
Something was off about Stan. I had noticed it right away. Some lingering air of sorrow that surrounded him, broken and melancholy. Even his laugh was out of tune.
Cartman pulled back, his palm cupping my cheek. He pressed his forehead against mine. "Don't worry, Jew. You're my bitch now. No one's allowed to piss you off but me."
I shoved him away, sinking angrily into the seat. "Don't call me a bitch, Cartman!"
He laughed heartily, leaning forward to shrug his jacket off. "Sit up."
"Fine," he said, reversing the action to put the jacket back on. "Fine. You want your bony ass Jew self to freeze, it's no skin off my balls."
I muttered a string of obscenities before sitting foreword and letting him drape the jacket haphazardly across my shoulders, warm and cozy with his body heat. He looked me over appreciatively, his smirk evolving again.
"Good Jew," he praised, taking some sort of dominating pride in the way I was practically swimming in his clothing. I tried to glower, but a smile formed unwillingly on my face as he nudged my shoulder, beaming.
I snickered as he clicked his seat belt locked and shifted the car into reverse.
TO BE CONTINUED.
A/N: Anyone who knows me is probably completely stunned right about now because normally Cartman/Kyle is appalling to me. But I've kind of grown to appreciate it in a twisted way. Also, Stan will probably always have a silver mustang in all my stories because he reminds me of this guy I used to know who had a silver mustang. :P Reviews are highly appreciated!