This was a long time coming! I promised my dear friend, Cupcake Queen Liz, a Stolovan (?) story way back and it took me months to figure out the idea, and everything that went with it. I promised I'd put up her fic on my birthday, so, here I am. :D This story is seven chapters long and I'll try to post one chapter each day, but with school and a fickle parent, you never know what might come up.
I hope you like the beginning.^^
Warnings: Slash, Crack-ness, occasional breaks in the Fourth Wall, and bad humor and grammar.
Pairings: Main!Clyde/Kevin. There are hints of Clyde/Token, Clyde/Tacos, Token/Red, Garrison/Mr. Slave, Style, and Craig/Tweek.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable.
Week of Love
"So, let me get this straight. You've come up with several brilliant plans to ask someone out on a simple date. And said person may or may not have feelings for you, and this probably is a rather double-edged situation for you since he just broke up with his boyfriend, and now said person is quite available for you, but you aren't sure how to approach him? So, these plans are supposed to help you, and you've enlisted my help because every man needs a wingman?" Token summarized confusedly. "Right?"
Clyde who sat across from him at the circular dining room table, nodded. "Right."
Token sighed, glancing over at four crudely drawn out layouts for how each plan was going to work. All these plans were rather crazy, wait, Token took that back, actually, Plan A and B was relatively sane, but all the letter plans after that were insane. Chances were that none of them would work. Why? The answer was simple; both Clyde and his love-interest were thickheaded. "Why can't you just ask him if he wants to hang out or maybe grab some lunch? Do you really need to make everything so difficult?"
Clyde scoffed. "I'm not making anything difficult. Every one of these plans is simple." He rolled his eyes; leave it to Token to not understand the genius of these plans. A five-year-old blindfolded could do all of this. That's how easy they were.
"Are you kidding me?" Token slammed his hand on Plan C. "What about this one? Do you really need to involve a bomb! Are you out of your mind?"
"A fake bomb, Token. There's a difference," Clyde said coolly. "Honestly, Token. You worry over the oddest things." He used his fork to poke his enchilada around his plate as Token muttered about his moronic ideas or whatever. Ah, life was good. All he needed was Token to agree to be his wingman and then life would be perfect.
"You are crazy," Token finally said after he calmed down.
Clyde's fork clattered onto the plate, he debated on whether or not he wanted to eat the food prepared for him, I mean he really wanted a double-stuffed taco, but Token said he had to eat other food varieties. Wait, Token stopped talking. It was time to answer. "So, I've been told. We've been friends for as long as I can remember, I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out, Tokeny."
"First of all, you sound like Red when you call me Tokeny. It's creepy, so don't do it. Secondly, I've known for a very long time about your mental condition. It's just taken me awhile to come in terms with it," Token half- joked. By now he had removed his hand from Clyde's plan and placed it on his right knee. His long fingers tapped agitatedly at his kneecap.
"Mmm, whatever you say. So, are you going to be my wingman?" Clyde asked.
"Why are you giving me the illusion of having a choice in this matter? I have to be your wingman whether I like it or not," Token grumbled.
"Honestly, its to up the word count on this particular fiction," Clyde said, shrugging.
"Nevermind, are you ready to start?" Clyde asked, getting up from his seat and grabbing Plan A off the table.
"Sure, when do we start?"
"Tonight. We need to head over to the electronics' store. Do you think we can find an old stereo with a couple of CD's, its a little bit outdated, but I doubt I could find a boom box, who has those anymore?"
"Clyde, what are you talking about?" Token asked, exasperated.
"Seriously Token, did you not read the plan? I put it in there in plain English, and if you attended movie night last week we wouldn't have this problem!" Clyde said, his left eyebrow twitching.
"I can't read chicken scratch! And I told you, I couldn't do movie night because my parents were sick with the flu. I had to take care of them... honestly though, it was one night and you always pick movies from the 1980's. I mean Ghostbusters was good..."
"Token! We don't have time for your ramblings. Let's go," Clyde interrupted. Token glared, he did not like being cut off like that. However, arguing with Clyde would change little. The boy was fourteen and he was still prone to burst into tears. He should comply with Clyde, going along with whatever he said until this whole mess blew over.
As he followed Clyde's hurried footsteps from the living room, he knew this was going to be a long experience for both of them.