Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or I Drove All Night by Roy Orbison. A/N: It's another loosely song based one shot, and I highly recommend listening to the song whilst reading (partially just because it's an amazing song and deserves more recognition) but it's not necessary. There's the possibility of this becoming an actual story, because I can see some ideas surrounding it, but I'm still debating.
A/N: It's another loosely song based one shot, and I highly recommend listening to the song whilst reading (partially just because it's an amazing song and deserves more recognition) but it's not necessary. There's the possibility of this becoming an actual story, because I can see some ideas surrounding it, but I'm still debating.
- Amy xx
It was stupid what he was doing. More than stupid, it was downright suicidal. But the burning need in his chest was blazing in approval the closer he got, the faster he pushed the bike, the colder the air became. Dawn was approaching, he could tell by the burning orange glow in the distance; the sun was leisurely crawling up the horizon, its fiery fingers caressing the wispy clouds that promised a bright, but cold, day. His unhelmeted hair was streaming behind him, the gold silk glowing in the early morning light. He'd come far, but it would all be worth it.
It had been a long time since Kenny McCormick had been within 10 miles of South Park, having moved to Denver the minute the opportunity had arisen. Whilst his friends had disappeared off to colleges across the country after high school, he had stayed. Working in the fairly-new Harbucks, he'd saved enough money to buy his baby, his Kawasaki, until one day he'd just upped and left the small town. There were too many memories for him there, and too few opportunities to make new ones as everyone he'd known and loved gradually dispersed. So he'd moved to Denver. He found work again as a barista and he worked hard, gaining experience, and had eventually worked up the nerve to go back to school and get the knowledge he'd refused as a teenager. At twenty two, he was apprenticing as a mechanic. At twenty three, having taken to it like a duck to water, he could easily take apart an engine, clean every separate part individually, and put it back together.
At twenty four, he was barrelling down the desolate drive that was Route 285. Heading back to his hometown, back where he never thought he'd feel welcome again, back to the one individual that could draw him back. Because he himself was back, visiting his family on a rare break from interning at the hospital. Kenny thanked God for his sister, Karen, being so in-tune with the goings on everyone. Without her and her monthly letters he never would've thought to return. But he needed to see for himself, see the beautifully angelic face that still occasionally graced his dreams.
He had thirteen miles to go. And the bike was struggling to keep up a constant 70mph speed, her fuel tank was emptying gradually and Kenny could do nothing to stop it. It had taken hours of tossing and turning in his bed back home before he decided to leave, to drive through the night, and return. Now he had just thirteen miles. Twelve and a half, he decided on a whim. 12.5 miles left, he would walk the last half mile; soak up the sights of a town he'd abandoned.
He could see the city limits, his thoughts having distracted him from realising the pace he'd been keeping, the distance he'd covered. The sun was fully risen now, hanging low in the sky, and he guessed the time to be six, maybe seven am. If Karen was accurate in her letters, the man Kenny so desperately craved would be sat alone at Starks Pond, creating the perfect opportunity for the blond. Point five of a mile left until he reached his destination, meaning it was time to dismount. As he walked the bike, he saw how little had changed and, more importantly, how precise Karen's descriptions had been.
It pained him to leave his bike in the junk-strewn garden of his parents' house, but there was little else to be done. He needed to get to Starks, he could feel the need cutting him down to the bone, and Kenny McCormick was famous for, if nothing else, following his gut instincts. So he ran. Past the shops and houses of his childhood, past the crumbling elementary school, through the woods, the hems of his jeans catching the snow and slowing him down just slightly. Kenny froze completely when he saw him, sitting on a waterproof blanket carefully laid out on the snow-covered grass and staring out at the frozen pond. Warmth spread through Kenny's body as the cross-legged figure gently brushed a lock of hair off his face and sighed, giving the blond the strength to walk forward silently and wrap his hands around the other man's eyes, whispering,
The man gasped, ripping Kenny's hands from his face and standing impossibly fast before turning to face him, the smile breaking across his face making Kenny forget all about the beauty of the sunrise he'd witnessed.
'What are you doing here?' The man's voice was warm, but filled with happy surprise
Kenny's hands instinctively found their place on the man's shoulders as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to his forehead, breathing in the comfortingly clean, familiar smell
'I drove all night Stan' To get to you, he added internally.