Hello south park fanfictioners. This is my first South Park fanfic. And it is Kenny/Kyle slash. The reason why I'm a K2 supporter is this, first of all, Kenny is gorgeous, way too gorgeous to only be in to girls. And it has to be Kyle because Cartman is an ass, and Stan is in love with Wendy. NO STYLE! It doesn't work.
Let me know if the story is liked so I know whether or not I should continue writing it!
So this story begin in October of 1934. Kyle Broflovski is 12 and goes to an American school in Germany. Kenny McCormick, who in this story will be Keene (Kenny) Cormick (because that's a little more German) is 14 and goes to the German school. It has been titled Meine Liebe, German for My Love.
The two bells of the two very different schools rang in unison, as they did every day. The children flooded in to the play yard for their break. The only division between them was the white line that passed through the conjoined yard. On one half were the young children who attended the American school, and the other, were the children who went to the German school.
The animosity between the two was fairly minimal. Being as young as they were, they didn't quite understand why they weren't necessarily supposed to get alone. On the occasions they're teachers spoke to one another they just seemed to be on edge. As if it took them a great amount of effort to come to an agreement.
For the majority of the time, the children simply kept to themselves, and ignored the other adolescents. But there were the days, when something would occur that caused a disruption. This was one of those such days. The small group of twelve year old boys from the American school were whooping happily as they ran about throwing a football back and fourth between them. The boy he had possession of the ball instructed his playmate to go long, to which the boy complied. He made the jump, the ball however, soared just beyond the tips of his fingers and into the yard of the other school.
The boys stopped and turned, and watched as the ball bounced uncontrollably before wobbling at the feet of another group of boys, a few years older then they. The American boys exchanged glances, unsure with how to pursue the situation. The shortest of the boys stepped forward and proceeded to walk to the dividing line.
"Kyle..." His friend cautioned, not wanting a commotion to be caused over something as trivial as a ball. Kyle ignored him and walked right up to the line with his chin held high. The only sign of his nervousness was the quick tug he gave to one of his bright red curls.
"Excuse me," he called to the boys who had picked up the ball and were looking about to find where it had come from. They looked towards the source of the noise, all of their eyes resting on the American. "Could you give us back our ball?" He asked politely.
The one who held it began to walk to the line, his friends following. He was taller then the others, thin and lanky, as though he had just been through a very sudden growth spurt. His blonde hair was cut and styled in the same sharp structure as the other boys.
"You want your ball?" He asked.
"Yes," Kyle said.
"Then perhaps the Americans should be more careful with what they do with their things," he offered with a sarcastic smile.
"It was an accident," Kyle explained.
The older boy's emitted low chuckles and the blonde tossed the football back and fourth between his hands. "Well, if you weren't here to begin with then it would not have happened."
"I didn't choose to live here in Germany," Kyle grumbled.
"You should be honored to live here," he snapped. "Germany is the greatest of all nations. Germans are the greatest of all people," the boy recited with robotic passion.
"If you were so great then you would have the decency to return the ball to me," Kyle spat back, his anger getting the better of him.
The blonde boy scowled and tossed the ball into the air and caught it. He then took several steps back and held it in one hand, holding it slightly in front of him.
"If you want it, come and get it," He said, raising an eyebrow up, the clear challenge dripping from his words.
By now the children of both schools had stopped their activities to watch the conflict between the boys. They held their breath as the German issued the obvious challenge to the Americans. The two yards may have been connected but there was a dividing line for a reason. You were not supposed to cross it, it was against the rules of both schools to go too the other side during school hours.
The German boys laughed menacingly at the red head, who stood before them fuming.
"You see? Americans have no courage. He won't even take the ball back," he said looking smugly at his friends. "What? Is the little boy too afraid to break the rules?" He asked snidely, turning back to Kyle, who began to blush at his words, a mix of anger and embarrassment filling his face. That made the group of older boys howl with laughter, but what happened next surprised them, as well as the other spectators.
Kyle threw himself into the boy, knocking him off his feet and into the ground. The ball rolled away from them, forgotten in the quarrel. Kyle managed to get a solid punch to the other boy's face before he was overcome by his superior size and strength. Kyle was shoved away and then promptly pinned down by the his opponent. His wrist were trapped by the lanky fingers, and boney knee was embedded in his stomach.
The blonde looked down angrily at the redhead, but his scowl lessened slightly at the sight of the boys green eyes, that were widened with unbelievable fear. Before either one of them could say anything, there was a bout of yelling and both boys were pulled apart and dragged to their feet by their teachers.
"Mr. Broflovski what is going on here?" Mr. Johnson asked. He was an elderly gentleman, his hair and a beard containing more gray than brown. He gave Kyle a once over, making sure he wasn't hurt, before turning to the other instructor, Mr. Ramsden.
Mr. Ramsden stood tall, his mouth turned down in a frown. He had his student standing by his side, who looked a little worse for wear. His immaculate uniform was dirty and his hair was out of place. Many of the stiff blonde strands had broken free from the adherent shell, and were falling into his blue eyes. The two bells rang, signaling the end of their break. All the students quickly made their way to their classrooms, not wanting to get punished for dawdling, even though they all desperately wished to know the trouble the two boys would be getting into.
"Your students are causing trouble Harold," Ramsden said, his voice stern and brittle.
"Rolf, I believe it was your student who was atop of mine," Johnson countered.
"Yes, but your student was in my school." He shot back.
"And Keene Cormick is two years older than Kyle Broflovski and should know better then to get into fight."
"My student would not be fighting if he was not in some way provoked!"
"Then there is blame to share," Johnson admitted. "I will punish my student accordingly and you can punish yours."
"I will not punish my student when I am sure he was only defending himself," Ramsden said, clapping a hand on Keene's shoulder.
"He should be punished for retaliation if nothing else," Johnson said with a defeated sigh, "But teach your students how you will, it is not my place to tell you how to run your school."
"And you will do well to remember that," Ramsden finished. He turned from them and began too march back to his school. Johnson did the same, but the two boys remained where they were, looking at each other. "Keene!" Ramsden called without looking back, aware that the boy had not followed him.
Keene turned his head at the clipped voice of his teacher. He looked back briefly, his eyes meeting Kyle's one last time before he obediently followed Ramsden. Kyle quickly turned and followed his own teachers, mentally preparing himself for the lines he was sure he would be writing.