Chapter Text
Kyle’s dynamic with Stan was starting to feel very fucked up. Or more accurately, his unsober dynamic with Stan was starting to feel very fucked up. Honestly, the dynamic had never been exactly right, even when they were kids, but now it was getting to be supremely fucked. Every time Stan and Wendy broke up, got in a fight, or even just when Stan was generally too depressed to function– he got shitfaced drunk. That, in it of itself, wasn’t even the fucked up part. The fucked up part was how a sad drunken Stan would stumble his way to Kyle for comfort like a target-seeking missile every single goddamn time it happened.
It was a cycle that some might consider toxic, but in truth, Kyle didn’t usually mind taking care of Shitfaced Stan, it made him feel helpful and important. Stan always wanted Kyle when he was drunk and upset– not his mom, not his dad, not his girlfriend, not any of their other friends –he only wanted his best friend. Kyle always feigned exasperation when Stan showed up sniffling on his doorstep or at his window, but every time he let Stan into his room, stroked his hair, and tried to convince him that everything would be alright. Stan had been doing this since they were little.
The first time it had happened was when Stan’s parents briefly divorced and Kyle was caught up with Cartman’s stupid hamburger stand scheme. Stan drunkenly confronted Kyle at the burger stand one day, then later that night he showed up at Kyle's house still hammered. It had scared the shit out of Kyle– they were ten for Christsake! Kyle had tried his best to support his friend, he really did, but eventually Stan’s negativity started making Kyle feel like shit too. So he’d done something he regretted to this day and briefly friend-dumped Stan. Subconsciously, Kyle thought maybe he was still trying to atone for ditching his friend in his hour of need. It wasn’t personal, Stan had been bringing him down, and Kyle didn’t let anybody make him feel like shit, not even Stan. Well, at least, he used to not let anybody make him feel like shit.
As Kyle grew up, he realized there were some shitty things he had to endure for the sake of friendship, and dealing with Stan’s drunken outbursts was one of them. Cartman’s constant harassment was another one, so Kyle had been forced to learn to ignore him as best he could instead of getting pissed off at every jab. He only lost it at Cartman when something he said really hit close to home (embarrassingly enough) but Cartman didn’t provoke him too often because it led to Kyle kicking his sorry ass into next week.
Once Kyle had gotten over the initial shock of Stan’s vice and learned how to handle his friend when he was drunk, taking care of him when he was like that became part of their routine. Every couple of weeks or so, Stan would show up a total mess, and Kyle would take care of him. Every few months, Kyle would groan and say, “Stan, I can’t keep doing this,” paired with something like, “you need better coping mechanisms,” or “you’re acting like a giant baby,” or the rare and incredulous, “isn’t there anyone else you could go to?” Then Stan would whine something to the tune of, “I need you Kyle, nobody else can see me like this dude, just this last time, please, I love you,” and Kyle would sigh and relent, dropping the subject for the time being.
So, yeah. The dynamic was a bit fucked up by the time they were teens, but Stan repaid Kyle by keeping him grounded (when he was sober), and anyways, what are friends for if not taking care of you when you’re drunk (even if half the time you have a perfectly nice girlfriend you could cry to instead)? But all that wasn’t even the supremely fucked up part. The really fucked up dynamic didn’t start until they were in their late teens– the end of the fall term in 12th grade to be exact.
‘Cause, okay, maybe Stan had grown up to be, well– hot. His hair was still a greasy mess, but he was 5’10” and barrel chested, and even though he dressed kind of emo, he was toned from playing football, (Kyle was only a little taller, but had a slimmer build and unruly hair that was usually covered by a hoodie.) And, okay, yeah. Kyle could admit that he had been holding a bit of a candle for Stan since their early teens, but he didn’t let that influence how he acted around or treated his friend. A stupid unrequited crush on his very straight super best friend wasn’t something Kyle allowed to get in the way of their friendship. After the initial panic, it was just something he felt– a dull ache that was always there –like a second heartbeat. But it didn’t change anything between them; until that fateful night when it changed everything.
(To be clear, Kyle did not initiate it, like, ever. He would never want to take advantage of Stan when he was in a vulnerable drunken state. In fact, the thought had never even crossed his mind before everything started. So when Stan initiated, Kyle was shocked, but he pretty quickly got with the program because it was all he’d wanted since forever. After all, if Stan liked doing it, and Kyle liked Stan, then what was the problem? Everybody won. At least, that was how he rationalized it at first.)
Their dynamic crossed the line into permanently fucked a week before winter break, on a dreary Monday night. The second Kyle heard a knock on his front door from his spot on the couch, he knew who it was. He shot up and answered the door to exactly the sight he’d expected: Stan showing up drunk, once again. He was shivering from the cold without his jacket and his shoulders hunched as he swayed in the doorway.
“Kyle,” Stan had half-sobbed in a hoarse voice when the door opened. Kyle responded by sighing loudly and wrapping his arm around Stan’s shoulders and leading him inside and up the stairs.
“Who is it, Bubbabla?” his mom shouted from the kitchen.
“No one, Ma! Just Stan!” Kyle yelled back from the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh, hello Stanley! Let me know if you boys need any snacks, your father and I are going to Ike’s hockey game soon,” Sheila called after them.
Stan stumbled on the steps a little as they walked up and Kyle cursed under his breath.
“We’re good, thanks Ma!” he shouted as he pulled Stan up onto the landing.
Both Stan and Kyle’s families were used to their son’s best friend showing up unannounced at their house on any given day of the week, and they’d stopped questioning it. But it was one thing for Stan to randomly come over, and another for him to show up shitfaced– nobody’s parents needed to know about the latter.
Stan stayed quiet until they were in Kyle’s room with the door closed. Once the door clicked shut, it was like a bubble popped and Stan burst into tears, sinking onto the floor against Kyle’s bed. Kyle sat in his desk chair and watched Stan cry and wipe his eyes pathetically for a moment, then he sighed again and grabbed a box of tissues off of his desk, tossing it to Stan’s side. Stan gratefully took a few and wiped at his face before handing it back. Kyle waited until Stan had calmed down a bit before he asked what was wrong, fiddling with the box of tissues absentmindedly as his friend regained some composure.
“So? What happened?” Kyle finally asked, placing the tissue box on his desk and trying not to sound disinterested. It was just so typical Stan.
“W-Wendy broke up with me,” Stan sniffled.
“Uh huh,” Kyle said a little apathetically, wondering if that was all. Stan had a tendency to be a total drama queen when he was drunk, but he and Wendy broke up all the damn time. He really should be used to it by now. They always got back together in the end anyways.
“She- she said she wants to be single for winter break, ‘cause her family is going with Bebe’s to the Caribbean or something.” Stan continued.
Now that was a twist. Usually when Wendy dumped Stan, it was to punish him into giving her more attention– but this time she actually wanted to be with other people, and that was her only reasoning. It was pretty harsh. It implied that Stan wasn’t enough for her. Kyle’s heart broke for Stan in that moment in a way he could usually repress.
“Oh, baby,” Kyle comforted sympathetically, his entire demeanor shifting as he got off his chair and slid down to his knees on the floor next to Stan.
He had never called Stan baby before, it just kind of slipped out in the moment. Kyle decided to pretend he had never even said it when Stan didn’t react by looking actively horrified. In fact, he only seemed shocked for a split second, then he looked even sadder– his face pinching like he was going to start crying again. Kyle wrapped him into a hug just as a fresh wave of tears started to fall.
“She… said…. th-that… she’s young an-and… needs to have f-fun… and ex-experiment,” Stan choked out, his voice muffled by Kyle’s sweater. He said the last word with disdain and sobbed after he’d said it.
“Shh, shh Stanley, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Kyle assured softly as he pet Stan’s hair.
Kyle distantly heard the sound of the front door slamming shut and his dad’s car starting and driving away as he held his friend. He felt for Stan, but Kyle could see where Wendy was coming from– she was a teenager and wanted to let loose with her friend on vacation without the guilt of cheating on her loser boyfriend. It made sense.
“She-she even said that I should h-have ‘fun’ and experiment too.” Stan pulled away from Kyle’s shoulder, sounding less sad and more indignant now. “Can you believe that?” he asked, wiping his face with his hands before remembering the tissues and using a crumbled one from the floor.
Kyle knew Stan just wanted him to agree with him, but he also saw Wendy’s point of view; and time off from their relationship could be good for the both of them– it wasn’t like they’d stay broken up forever. Kyle pulled away from the hug, but left a comforting hand on Stan’s back as he spoke.
“That totally sucks dude, that was fucked up of her to drop that on you a week before break…” Kyle started, easing into what he actually wanted to say.
“I know, right!” Stan eagerly agreed, wiping at his face.
“...but, it could be good for you. Think of it like this, she basically gave you a free pass to do whatever you want for the next two weeks.”
“But I don’t want to do anything with anyone else, I just want Wendy!” Stan immediately whined, not even considering the possibility of freedom.
“Dude, this is like, your one opportunity to hook up with other girls, and Wendy won’t even be in town to hear about it! She gave you permission, even.” Kyle urged, trying to get his friend to see the positive side to all of this. “Honestly Stan, you should be looking forward to this.”
“Looking forward to it? My girlfriend is going to be hooking up with dudes left and right, and you think I should look forward to it? I’m not a fucking cuck, Kyle, Jesus Christ.”
Kyle snorted at the word ‘cuck’ and tried to hide it with a scoff. Stan glowered at him. Kyle just wanted to problem-solve his way through Stan’s latest crisis and skip to the part where they went to bed and Stan passed out snoring– then he could play games on his phone and not have to talk about goddamn Wendy Testaburger anymore.
“Dude, come on, think of it as an opportunity,” Kyle encouraged. “There must be some other girl you’re curious about being with.”
Stan froze, his eyes glazed and as he thought he bit his lip. He swayed, even while he sat, so Kyle knew he must still be kind of drunk. Stan’s blue eyes came back into focus, his bottom lip trembling a little. He stared at Kyle intently, his cheeks flushed red and eyes still a bit teary, searching Kyle’s face. Kyle started to get uneasy from the attention, heat rising from his chest to his ears.
“What? Is there something on my face?” Kyle asked. “Stan?”
Stan didn’t reply, he just slowly leaned closer to Kyle. Kyle moved backwards– but only a tiny bit –and laughed nervously, withdrawing his hand from Stan’s back and into his own lap.
“Stan, what are you doing?” he asked, but it sounded more like a warning than a question.
Stan only continued to lean in closer. He was close enough that Kyle could feel his whiskey breath ghosting across his lips.
“Stan. You’re drunk.” Kyle stated quietly, holding his ground. This statement snapped Stan out of his stupor a little and he blinked a few times.
“‘Mm not as drunk as you think,” Stan mumbled; the smell of his breath contradicting his words.
Kyle’s heart was pounding out of his chest and he felt frantic. He didn’t want to move away and stop what he suspected was about to happen, but he was also terrified– and Stan was hammered for god's sake!
“Stan. Whatever you’re thinking right now. Stop.” Kyle warned, trying to sound firm despite the fact that his voice was only just above a whisper.
Stan’s eyes flicked down to Kyle’s lips as he spoke, then back to meet Kyle’s as he said the word ‘Stop.’ Regardless of what Kyle said, something in his gaze must have given away what he really wanted, because Stan only seemed to grow more confident after meeting his eyes again.
Stan grabbed Kyle’s face in his hands, then he pulled him closer and closed the slight gap between them with a sloppy kiss on the lips. Kyle’s mind turned to mush and everything was right in the world for one beautiful moment of finally… Then he realized how fucked up it was and he reared his head back from Stan as much as he could with his face still being held.
He wanted Stan to want him back, but this wasn’t morally right. Stan was heartbroken and drunk right now, and the thought of taking advantage of Stan when he was like this made Kyle sick to his stomach. He grabbed Stan’s wrists and pulled his hands away from his face, immediately missing the feeling, but trying to stay strong.
“Stan, stop being an idiot, okay? You don’t want this, you’re just sad and drunk,” Kyle stated firmly, trying to put an end to this lunacy.
Stan liked girls and only girls. He was just upset and Kyle happened to be there, simple as that. Sure, Stan was the one who had shown up on Kyle’s doorstep, but he always came to Kyle. That thought twisted Kyle’s stomach into knots and the constant dull ache he felt around Stan intensified in his chest.
“Please, Kyle,” Stan said, his voice cracking when he said Kyle’s name and on the verge of tears again. “I need you, Kyle. Please, please don’t go away.”
Stan’s bottom lip started to wobble like he was about to burst into tears again, and it made Kyle’s chest pang painfully as he felt his resolve crumbling. Still gripping Stan’s wrists, Kyle surged forward without thinking and kissed Stan’s bottom lip until it stopped shaking, trying to communicate: I’m not going anywhere.
When Kyle pulled away, Stan sniffled and Kyle’s grip on his wrists loosened. Stan’s watery dark blue eyes met Kyle’s again, but something in his gaze was different. He was looking at Kyle with half-lidded eyes, his pupils blown– the sadness that had once been there had been clouded over by lust. Stan didn’t say anything, but his breathing was heavy as he removed his wrists from Kyle’s grasp. In one movement he pushed Kyle hard against the side of the bed, sitting up on his knees and swinging his leg over to trap both of Kyle’s, straddling him. Before Kyle had time to protest or even react, Stan’s mouth was on his again, but this time he was really kissing Kyle, Stan’s lips opening and closing over his. Fuck it, Kyle resolved, he could worry about the moral implications of this later.
He parted his lips and kissed Stan back, matching his ferocity. Kyle could taste the nasty burn of whiskey on Stan’s tongue, but he didn’t care– this was the only way he wanted to drink whiskey ever again. Stan groaned as the kiss deepened and his hands began to roam over Kyle’s chest, shoulders, and into his curly red hair. Everywhere Stan touched made Kyle feel electrified, and all he wanted to do was pull Stan closer because, this was actually fucking happening.
Kyle grabbed onto Stan’s hips, right above his jeans, and thumbed at the skin under his T-shirt. Stan responded by humming into his mouth and kissing Kyle even harder, basically sitting in his lap now. Kyle moved his hands over Stan’s firm ass, then back up to his hips, which Stan seemed to like. Feeling bolder and more horny than he’d ever been in his life, Kyle experimentally ran one hand along the front of Stan’s jeans until he could feel his erection through the denim.
Stan broke the kiss and gasped, “Kyle!” in a strangled voice went straight to Kyle’s dick.
It was like a flip switched in Kyle’s brain when he heard Stan say his name like that: First off, he knew from the moment he heard the sound that he was already addicted to it; and secondly, he was going to make Stan say it again tonight. If Stan wanted to use Kyle for sex, he could, but it at least had to be on Kyle’s terms.
Kyle brought his hands to Stan’s shoulders and firmly pushed him back, lust and determination shining in his eyes.
“Stanley,” he started. Stan’s brow furrowed with confusion.“Get on the bed,” Kyle ordered.
Stan stared at him wide-eyed, then scrambled to do what he was told. He clumsily rolled onto the bed and scooted his back against the pillows as Kyle stood up and watched him obey. Kyle had known Stan long enough to know how he would react if he was opposed to this (pull a face), and he was doing the exact opposite (going along with it)– Stan liked this power dynamic.
Emboldened by Stan’s reaction, Kyle got on the end of the bed and started to crawl towards him before pausing and asking one last time, “Are you sure you’re not too drunk for this? Cause we ca–”
“No.” Stan cut him off, “No Kyle, I’m not too drunk. Now please, please just c'mere.”
Stan outstretched his arms to make a grab for Kyle’s sweater, but Kyle snatched his wrists again and held them tight as he shuffled forward to straddle Stan. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but Kyle had a burning need to be in charge, a need to be in control of this situation that had already spiraled way out of control and wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. For one, he’d always fantasized that Stan would not have Wendy in his life romantically if this ever happened, but at least the two were technically broken up at the moment. Still, that didn’t mean Kyle wasn’t insanely jealous of her. The mere thought that she was the only other person Stan had ever been with was ticking Kyle off, even now.
“I don’t know how you do it with her,” Kyle growled with his mouth close to Stan’s ear; not wanting to invoke Wendy’s name, but wanting to make himself crystal clear, “but I’m the one in charge here, not you.”
His lips brushed against Stan’s ear as he said the last part, and Kyle could feel Stan's whole body shiver. Kyle didn’t know what possessed him to say that, but it was out there now, and he could only hope that Stan was into it. Kyle waited for Stan’s approval before making another move, and Stan gave it in the form of a few obedient nods, his head bobbing eagerly. At this point Kyle didn’t care how wrong it was. He had wanted Stan for so long and now he was here, laying underneath him, giving him permission to do whatever he wanted.
Kyle lunged down and softly bit the side of Stan’s neck– he didn’t want to leave an obvious mark, but he was dying to taste Stan’s skin and find his sensitive spots. Stan sucked in a breath and Kyle moved to another spot on Stan’s neck, then another, and another. When his teeth grazed the junction between Stan’s neck and shoulder, Stan moaned and tossed his head back, so Kyle sucked the spot harder until he started to worry about making a bruise. Stan made a little whining sound when he pulled away, but Kyle shoved his shoulders into the pillows and kissed Stan on the lips again. Stan seemed to have no problem being pushed around, because he responded enthusiastically, kissing back and throwing his arms around Kyle’s neck.
After a few more minutes of heated open mouth kisses, Stan’s hands moved to Kyle’s waist and began to snake their way up his sweater. It felt amazing, and Kyle suddenly wanted to see the rest of Stan, to feel his bare skin touching his. Kyle broke the kiss and leaned back on his knees.
“Take your shirt off,” he demanded.
Stan quickly obliged and tossed his black tee-shirt over his head and onto the floor. Kyle took a moment to stare at Stan’s broad chest openly, and it was so much nicer than sneaking glances. Stan tugged at the hem of Kyle’s sweater impatiently until Kyle moved to shuck his top off too, tossing it away.
Stan’s hands were immediately all over Kyle, feeling every inch of his pale skin. Kyle would’ve liked to take his time exploring Stan’s bare chest– touching his muscles and kissing every inch of exposed skin –but if he lingered right now, his brain would turn back on and he’d think about what they were doing. So instead, fueled by Stan’s rough hands on his chest, Kyle leaned down so he and Stan’s bodies were flush and their bare torsos pressed together. Stan gasped at the contact and Kyle hid his own groan by kissing Stan’s neck again. Having Stan pressed underneath him and feeling his body react to Kyle’s touch was the hottest thing he had ever experienced.
Stan let out a whiney moan and grabbed at Kyle’s thick hair, tugging his head up for a proper kiss. Kyle wanted to reprimand Stan for trying to take the lead, but more than that he wanted their lips to connect again, so he let it happen. His mouth and tongue collided into Stan’s– open and eager –and by the urgency of the kiss, he could tell they were both getting more desperate. Kyle was getting really into it now, almost feeling drunk himself, and he sucked on Stan’s lower lip, wanting to feel how plush it was. When he did, Stan moaned and his hips jolted up into Kyle’s almost involuntarily, rubbing against his clothed erection. Kyle groaned and chased the friction, grinding back down against the front of Stan’s pants.
The kissing slowed down then finally broke off as they adjusted and their clothed cocks and started to rub against each other. Their lips were still touching as they gasped into each other’s mouths, rutting together in a mostly futile attempt to find a satisfying rhythm. Every time he felt Stan’s erection slide against his, Kyle had a flash of heat in his groin that made him never want to stop chasing the sensation. A sheen of sweat broke across their chests, making their bare skin stick together. Touching a sweaty body would be gross in any other context, but here, Kyle relished it.
Not being able to find a consistent rhythm was frustrating though, and soon Kyle pulled back and breathily commanded, “Stan, pants.”
Then, he leaned back onto his knees to unbutton his own. Stan responded quickly, undoing his pants and shimmying them down to his lower thighs in what had to be record time. Kyle did the same, also not bothering to fully take his pants off– because this was happening now. Kyle could see the outline of Stan’s leaking erection straining against the fabric of his white boxer briefs and he palmed it without thinking. Stan thrust into his hand and moaned Kyle’s name in a choked voice again. Kyle couldn’t help but groan and smile wickedly as he resisted the urge to grind into Stan and instead decided to tease him a little. He brushed his slender fingers up and down along the shaft, causing Stan to squirm and whine wordlessly. Then, his fingers made their way to the tip, tracing the sensitive area and admiring the circle of precum that was staining Stan’s briefs. Stan whined again, trying to thrust up into Kyle’s touch to feel more friction.
“Kyyyle, please,” he moaned as he tried to yank at Kyle’s half-pulled down pants with his left hand, attempting to pull him closer.
“Please what, Stanley?” Kyle asked, teasing him, but also making sure he still had Stan’s consent.
Stan groaned and threw his right arm over his face to hide his expression and grabbed Kyle’s wrist with his other hand. He dragged Kyle’s hand over his cock and to the waistband of his underwear, trying to push his friend’s fingers inside.
“Please, Kyle, just, touch me,” Stan practically begged.
Kyle didn’t need to be told twice– lust overtook him and he yanked Stan’s underwear down, revealing his erection. Something about it was so inviting, and Kyle had to shove down the urge to lick Stan’s cock, opting to spit in his hand and wrap it around Stan instead. Stan groaned and his hips bucked into Kyle’s touch. Kyle stroked him faster, engrossed with watching Stan squirm with pleasure.
“Oh… Ah… Ahh.. Ky– Kyle wait,” Stan gasped, placing his hand on Kyle’s wrist to slow him down. For a sickening moment Kyle’s stomach flipped and he thought Stan had changed his mind about whatever this was, but then Stan was tugging on Kyle’s tented plaid boxers and muttering something to the tune of, “You too.”
Kyle obliged and pulled his boxers down so they were pooled around his knees along with his pants. He tried not to feel embarrassed as he let Stan take in the sight of him for a moment; then he spit in his palm again and knelt over Stan’s mostly naked body. Kyle braced one of his hands on the bed behind Stan’s shoulder, then wrapped his spit slick hand around both of their cocks, pushing them together. Both boys groaned as they pressed against each other, and Kyle had never experienced something so intimate or arousing. He was almost in pain from how bad he wanted it.
All of Kyle’s focus went into jerking them both off and chasing the orgasm he could already feel building. Stan was digging his short nails into Kyle’s sweaty shoulder with one hand, and the other was gripping onto Kyle’s braced arm for support as he tried to thrust into Kyle’s strokes. As he got more into it, Kyle pressed the top of his chest into Stan’s and bit the damp skin between his neck and shoulder. Stan’s hips stuttered and Kyle bit him again, this time on the pec. Stan whined and one of his hands came down and covered Kyle’s, helping him increase the pace and the friction. Kyle’s forehead was pressed to Stan’s sticky clavicle, and he was unable to do anything except chase the pleasure he was feeling.
As he neared the edge, Kyle let out an involuntary growl and sped up again. His wrist was starting to become sore, but he ignored the ache. The noise and the increase in pace seemed to do something for Stan, because he started saying choppy words in a strangled voice.
“Close… I’m close… Ky… Kyle… I’m–”
Kyle felt a hot jolt of arousal when Stan said his name like that, and it motivated him to be bossy again. Kyle lifted his head so that his lips ghosted against the shell of Stan’s ear.
“Good boy… Now say my name like that when you cum,” he demanded in a low voice.
Stan moaned needily and his fingers dug into Kyle’s shoulder. Stan started to chant his name in choked broken almost-sobs.
“Kyle, Kyle, yes, wan’ you, Kyle, please, Ky–”
Stan came as he was in the middle of saying Kyle’s name, a strangled cry of ecstasy cutting off his words. Hearing Stan say his name like that and feeling his whole body shudder as he came all over their fingers was too much, and Kyle came with a grunt right after. The pace of their hands slowed down and they stroked through their final waves of orgasm together, breathing heavily. Kyle’s cheek and damp curls stuck to Stan’s chest as they caught their breath, lying in a heap. Kyle’s limbs felt like jelly and the sweat was starting to cool on his skin.
As soon as he felt Stan’s hand slipping from his back, Kyle sat up sharply from a stab of fear. He could worry about the implications of all this later, but now they had to clean up the evidence. Kyle had to fight the urge to collapse back into Stan’s chest and fall asleep as he gathered his strength to take a few steps across the room to get his tissue box. He finally unstuck himself from Stan and sat up on the side of the bed. He kicked his pants and underwear to the floor, then he retrieved the tissue box and brought it back to the bed with him. He sat on the edge and wiped himself off, very deliberately not looking at Stan as he did. When he was done, Kyle tossed the tissue box to Stan with only a glance, then stood and turned away to put his pants back on. He found his sweater near the foot of the bed and slipped that on too; then he spotted Stan’s shirt nearby and threw it to him without looking. When he had fully dressed and his used tissues were in the trash, Kyle took a seat on the end of the bed, not looking at Stan and unsure what he should say or do.
There was a long silence only filled by the shuffling sounds of Stan cleaning himself up and redressing. Stan had started this, so he needed to be the one to set the tone now, Kyle decided. Kyle crossed his arms as he waited for Stan to say something, but he could feel his friend’s eyes on him, waiting for him to speak up. God, what the fuck had just happened? And on top of everything else, Kyle had gone way too far with the dom stuff. Stan was probably terrified of him now. Kyle steeled himself for any type of reaction– Stan might cry again, or hit him, or run away, or throw up, or cuss him out, or—
“Kyle?” Stan asked in a soft raspy voice, “...Are you mad at me?”
Fuck. Kyle’s heart panged painfully at the vulnerability in Stan’s voice. He softened and glanced towards Stan, who was now fully clothed and sitting against the pillows with his knees drawn to his chest. His dark hair was sticking out all over the place and his eyes were still red-rimmed from crying. Kyle had genuinely thought that Stan would be angry or upset with him, but instead he was concerned and insecure– just like Kyle was, except he wasn’t hiding it nearly as well. Kyle sighed and his arms loosened as he turned to face his best friend.
“No, I’m not mad at you, Stan,” he said, his voice sounding weaker than he wanted it to.
Stan sniffled and swiped at his eyes.
“Okay,” he croaked. Kyle was about to suggest that Stan could go home if he needed space after all that, but before he could, Stan spoke again, his voice hoarse. “Can we go to sleep now?” he asked.
It wasn’t even late, only around 9 o’clock, but at the mention of sleep the weight of everything crumpled over Kyle and he felt bone tired, his limbs jello.
“Yeah,” Kyle agreed, nodding. “Let’s go to sleep.”
Kyle crawled under the sheets and Stan followed suit, scooting towards the wall and tucking in. While they had been distracted, the sun had set and the room had become dim; and when Kyle flicked his bedside lamp off, it got even darker. It was almost like the darkness was a fog– there was enough light to see, but everything was blurry and out of focus. Kyle’s eyelids were heavy the second his head hit the pillow. He’d been worried he’d be up all night fretting, but it felt like all the energy had been sapped out of him. Kyle could feel the weight of Stan next to him– the dip in the mattress, his warmth, the smell of his greasy hair mixed with a tinge of whiskey. He wanted to move closer to him, or say something, but his words were caught in his throat as he helplessly stared at the ceiling wondering how the fuck they’d gotten here. After a minute or so, it was again Stan who broke the silence.
“Kyle?” he rasped timidly, facing the wall and not looking at him.
“Yeah?” Kyle responded to the ceiling, his heart suddenly hammering in anticipation of what Stan might say next.
“Could…” Stan started, seemingly losing confidence for a moment then restarting, “Could you, uh… hold me… maybe?” he finally asked, his voice small.
Kyle’s chest swelled with fondness and sympathy, mixed with a touch of pity.
“Sure, Stan.” He rolled onto his side and scooted closer to Stan, pressing up against his back and wrapping his arms around his chest, “C’mere,” he murmured, growing impossibly more tired.
Stan was a built guy with a broad chest, but Kyle was a bit taller and lankier, and holding Stan was like having a giant teddy bear. He nuzzled into Stan’s neck and started to drift off immediately– more comfortable and more sleepy than he had ever felt before. Kyle only vaguely felt it when Stan took one of his hands and threaded their fingers together.
Right as Kyle was about to completely fall asleep, Stan turned his head back a little and whispered, “Kyle, jus’ don’t leave me, okay?”
Kyle barely even registered his own response as words slipped out of him without a thought,“I’m here baby, ‘m always here,” he muttered.
Kyle woke up the next morning to his alarm blaring, still in his clothes from the day before. His bed was empty and Stan was gone– the crumpled sheets on the other side of the bed and his lingering scent were the only signs that he’d even stayed the night. It hurt that Stan had ditched out when he usually stayed over, but Kyle figured it was probably for the best. He imagined Stan was at home, panicking and regretting everything, or maybe he’d already drank himself into a coma trying to forget what they did last night. Kyle thought of scenarios like this all morning– Stan skipping school all week just to avoid him, Stan angrily accosting him and accusing Kyle of taking advantage, Stan ignoring Kyle and pretending he didn’t exist… the list went on and on.
Kyle wasn’t sure what to expect as he approached the bus stop, but he took his usual spot and waited with his headphones in as his friends showed up (he was too anxious to actually listen to music, but he wanted to keep up appearances). Kyle zoned out while listening to Cartman and Kenny talk about some youtuber, his mind wandering to the deplorable things he had done with Stan last night. Stan was the last to arrive at the bus stop, and he sidled up to Kyle like always and nudged him on the shoulder, startling him from his thoughts.
“Hey dudes,” Stan greeted.
His tone was normal as he addressed the group, but he was only looking at Kyle. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves were still a little glassy from crying so much, but otherwise he seemed like his usual self. Kenny and Cartman acknowledged Stan briefly, but quickly returned to their conversation.
“Hey.” Kyle greeted, eyes straight ahead.
“Dude, did you see the new meme that’s going around with the, uh, the like, bunny ears thing? I swear dude, it’s actually kind of funny–”
“Stan,” Kyle said, interrupting Stan’s ramble.
It was clear to him that Stan was trying to avoid talking about it by talking about anything but last night, but Kyle had to say something to acknowledge it.
“Stan, we should probably talk–” Kyle was going to say something in code like, ‘about that new video game we played yesterday,’ but when he glanced at Stan, he saw a flash of true fear in his friend’s face that made him change course,“–about how you’re doing. You know, because of Wendy.”
Stan’s brows furrowed with confusion for a moment, then his face relaxed when he realized Kyle was giving him an out.
“Ooh, right. I’m okay, I guess. Thanks.” Stan responded, shoving his hands in his coat pockets.
He sounded less sad than he usually did about Wendy dumping him, but maybe he was just relieved to not be forced into a weird coded conversation with Kyle. Stan flashed him a small smile though, clearly appreciative that Kyle wasn’t going to push him to talk about it, even later on. They’d never needed so many words to communicate, and when Kyle let the topic of last night go after his initial attempt to bring it up, they both had understood that: this is something we’re not talking about.
“Brah, did Wendy dump you again?” Cartman asked, he and Kenny suddenly paying attention to their conversation at the mention of Wendy.
“Yeah…” Stan replied, kicking at snow on the ground and not bothering to elaborate further.
Kyle tagged in for him, saving him from Kenny and Cartman’s inevitable probing questions
“This time she did it ‘cause she wants to be single over winter break so she can like, get with other dudes when she goes on vacation. It’s totally fucked up,” Kyle supplied.
“Dude, what a fuckin’ bitch, dawg! I swear, you’re better off without that whore clinging on your arm, Stan.” Cartman commented, always eager to talk shit about Wendy.
“Cartman, don’t talk about Wendy like that.” Stan snapped, but it lacked the bite that he usually possessed when defending Wendy’s honor. On most days, Kyle would have backed Stan up and told Cartman to stop being a sexist asshole, but today he said nothing.
“Wait, if Wendy’s gonna be getting with other dudes, does that mean you get a free pass too?” Kenny asked, his eyes glittering with excitement.
“It’s not a free pass! She dumped me!”
“Oh please you pussy, you’ll be riding her dick again the second break is over,” Cartman said with an eye roll– this was one of those rare instances when Cartman was right about something.
“Actually, she even told him he’s allowed to ‘experiment’ with other people,” Kyle added, purposefully saying ‘people’ instead of ‘girls.’
Stan shot him a subtle angry little look when Kyle emphasized the word ‘experiment,’ Kyle almost wanted to laugh at how easy it was to mess with Stan about this. If he wasn’t allowed to talk about last night at all, Kyle could at least retaliate by alluding to it in ways only Stan would notice. He had to do something to even out the power balance, because right now it felt like Stan had Kyle’s entire life in his hands.
“Whoohoo!” Kenny cheered, “Stan’s single and ready to get his dick wet!” Kenny ruffled Stan’s hair and took Kyle’s place next to him, slinging an arm around Stan’s shoulder, shaking him yelling, “Let’s gooooooo!” as the school bus began to pull up in front of them.
And just like that, everything was normal again. They got on the bus and went to school, had class, had lunch, and Stan and Kyle were just… normal. Although, Kyle did lock eyes with Wendy during AP History and gave her a dirty look on Stan’s behalf, even though he generally tried to steer clear of their relationship drama. She shot him a look right back, wrinkling her nose at him, then she avoided looking at him for the rest of class.
During lunch, Kyle helped as their friends brainstormed girls for Stan to try and hookup with over winter break while Stan just scoffed and shot down their suggestions– and everything was totally fine and normal. It was like nothing had even happened. Kyle wished he could get a glimpse under the collar of Stan’s shirt and see if the hickies he’d bitten into his best friend’s skin were actually there, or if he’d dreamed the whole thing.
He didn’t have to wait too long for proof though, because that Saturday– the first official day of break (and the day that Wendy’s flight left) –Kyle obtained indisputable evidence that he hadn’t dreamed what had happened between him and Stan. Because it happened again. Stan came over tipsy and sad, and comforting him somehow turned into them jerking each other off. The next morning Stan was gone, and nothing was said about it when they met up with the guys to play basketball later. Besides, the entire group knew about Stan’s habit of getting drunk and crying to Kyle, so the new extra element was pretty easy to hide. In fact, the others rarely even brought up the ‘Stan Kyle drunk crying dynamic’– not because it was a secret, but because everyone was so used to it by now that the topic was boring, even for the purposes of ripping on Stan. It would be like calling Kyle out for being a hothead– it was stale, old news.
Stan and Kyle actually spent most of winter break hanging out together, playing video games and going to a few lame parties with the other kids whose parents didn’t splurge on a vacation. When Stan was totally sober, everything was fine and as it always was– and most of the time Stan hung out with Kyle, he was sober. Even when Stan drank at parties, he was surrounded by other people and distracted, so he was fine then too Kyle was his best friend and nothing more.
It was only later into the night, when they would walk down the empty streets to crash at one their houses, that Stan’s mood would begin to darken. In the quiet, Stan would start to reflect, and whatever he thought about would always make him sad, so he would turn back into the weepy drunk that Kyle was oh so familiar with. Again, Kyle never initiated it… but he kept letting it happen, never resisting Stan’s not-so-sober advances. He just couldn’t bring himself to say no, (because seriously, how could he?). Pathetically enough, Kyle would take whatever he could get from Stan– and if that was just drunk makeouts, so be it.
It happened quite a few times over winter break too, enough so that Kyle was starting to get used to it. From only a kiss some nights, to more of what they did that very first night– Kyle always went along with it. He always let Stan set the pace though, even when Kyle was drunk as well and despite the fact that he liked to be the one in charge when they hooked up. Actually, he didn’t just like being in charge, Kyle quite literally needed it– it was the only way he felt any semblance of control in all of this. He had no idea what Stan was getting out of this arrangement– especially on the nights they only kissed –but the more Kyle said yes to this, the deeper his feelings for Stan became (if that was even possible), and it made him feel crazy.
Their dynamic had already been kind of fucked up when they were kids, and then it became ten times more fucked up with the added sexual element. Whiskey was Stan’s vice, and Kyle discovered that his vice was Stan. Being with Stan was as intoxicating as being drunk, and Kyle’s inhibitions fell away when Stan pleaded for his attention. He knew their relationship was unhealthy, but it felt so good every damn time– and it was only temporary after all.
Stan never did end up hooking up with any other girls (much to Kenny’s disappointment), and even though Kyle knew the entire situation was totally fucked up, he also knew it could be worse. He rationalized to himself it with platitudes like: it’s not even real sex so it doesn’t matter and it’s not like he’s cheating on anyone and at least he’s usually just tipsy and not entirely shitfaced when it happens.
Kyle assumed that after winter break ended and Stan inevitably got back together with Wendy, that the fooling around would stop forever and become a fond, complicated, memory that he could unpack during therapy in his thirties; and he and Stan would go back to being just friends. But Kyle assumed wrong. When Stan and Wendy did get back together, everything only became more complicated.