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Third (and a half) time’s the charm
Sitting on the edge of a rooftop, Human Kite quietly curses his bad luck while trying to steady his breathing, feeling the thumping of his heart in his chest gradually subsides as the adrenaline begins to fade. He keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon, ignoring Mysterion’s voice over the communicator as he gives the team final instructions. He’s not talking to him anyway; and even if he were, he wouldn’t listen. He’s not in the mood to take orders on what to do with the villain of the day who just ruined his plans with The Coon.
He’s not even sure he could transport the guy safely without breaking a bone or two.
Mysterion probably knows this, because as soon as the villain was neutralized, he sent him off immediately. He’d be surprised how perceptive the hero can be, if he weren’t so angry. When Mysterion's voice finally goes silent, he turns off his own communicator.
His bad mood isn’t entirely the villain’s fault. He just happened to be the final straw that broke the camel’s back, tipping over all the frustration he’s been bottling up for weeks, if not months.
The first time his plans with The Coon were ruined was a few months ago, right after they had the courage to confess their feelings for each other, by Professor Chaos. They were in the middle of a date when the man and his chaos minions decided to attack the area around the ice cream shop where they were. Of course, they couldn’t just let him get away with it, or rather, Human Kite couldn’t, and The Coon had no choice but to follow him.
The second time, after much convincing to let him make it up to him for dragging him into work on his day off, was ruined by The Coon himself, or rather, because as a civilian, he’s far more famous than as a hero. They’d barely been in a café for thirty minutes, his favorite because it’s small and supposedly quiet, when a horde of paparazzies barged in. Not every day does the elusive millionaire Eric Cartman show up in a place like that, after all.
He curses his bad luck again.
Tonight was supposed to be the night that broke the streak, third time’s the charm, and all that. They were finally going to have their first real date, just the two of them, without worrying about their superhero lives. It was supposed to be a quiet night, dining at the exclusive restaurant Cartman loves, where his presence wouldn’t be unusual, meaning they wouldn’t be interrupted again. A place, by the way, that took him a lot of work, and some strings pulling as a reporter, to get a reservation for.
Nothing went as planned, all thanks to a villain who chose precisely this day to attack the city.
“God, did you really have to climb the tallest building in the fucking city to throw your little tantrum?” The Coon’s irritated voice breaks through his thoughts.
Human Kite stays silent, eyes still on the horizon, but all his attention is on The Coon, on the sound of his footsteps crunching the rooftop gravel beneath him, his light stride contradicting his complaints about having to take the stairs all the way up. His breathing is slightly labored from the effort, and from where he’s sitting, he can hear his heart pounding. Yet when The Coon sits beside him with a small grunt, he seems so relaxed that Human Kite doesn’t know whether to admire his ability to stay unbothered or be angry about it.
“We lost the reservation,” he says, irritated, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “And you call my anger a ‘little tantrum’?”
He chooses anger. It’s easier. Redirecting his irritation to the Coon comes as naturally as breathing, even if he does it less now that he’s realized he loves him. It’s far easier to focus on the rage that his frustration fuels than on the ache in his chest from having his plans fall apart yet again.
“Yeah, when you act like it’s the end of the world,” the Coon replies, and even without looking at him, he knows he’s rolling his eyes. “It’s just dinner, Khal. It’s not that important.”
He clenches his fists against his knees, resisting the urge to throttle him.
“It is important,” he replies through gritted teeth.
“It’s not the end of the world,” the Coon repeats, laughing. “We can go out to dinner any other time.”
Outraged, he finally turns to face him.
The Coon is looking out at the skyline, leaning back on his hands with his legs dangling over the edge. He looks completely at ease. The moonlight catches his face, now free of his mask, and dances in his hair; Human Kite’s breath catches, his heart speeding up. He looks stunning, and it reminds him why he fell in love with him in the first place.
“And we both know you didn’t really want to go to that restaurant,” the Coon continues, swinging his feet absentmindedly. “It’s not your scene. You’d have been miserable wearing a suit. Not to mention all the stares because you were out with me.”
When he doesn’t get an answer, the Coon glances at him, that smug smile on his face and a glint of mischief in his eyes that reminds Human Kite of all the other reasons he loves him. When that smile turns wicked, he knows what’s coming.
“Look at it this way, we avoided the shame of trying to dine with your pathetic reporter’s salary,” the Coon says, and though it sounds like a joke, it hits Human Kite like a punch. ‘‘You should thank that ridiculous attempt at a villain.’’
“Sorry for trying to make our first date memorable,” he snaps, looking away.
“God, Kyle, I accepted your ridiculous love confession, what more do you want?” he says casually. Despite the crooked grin he sends his way when he wants to provoke him, his words don’t have the usual bite. It is a sincere question; his voice charged with genuine curiosity.
Deep down he knows. He can recognize that the Coon’s trying to take some weight off from the situation. He probably even tries to make him feel better, pointing to him that there’s nothing wrong with their plans getting ruined. Knowing that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like the Coon doesn’t care.
He stands abruptly, the urge to throttle him stronger than ever.
“What else do I want? I want this to work, Cartman!” he yells, pacing. “I wanted our first date to be perfect; to show you this means something to me! But you don’t even care!”
“Kyle…” Cartman starts, standing too.
“No!” he shouts. “I’m trying. I’m really trying. Our schedules hardly ever line up. If it’s not my job, it’s your public image, and if it’s not that, it’s this!”
“Kyle,” Cartman repeats, stepping closer.
“And what do you say? That it’s not important!” He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until his vision blurs. “But it is. It is important. To me. It should be important to you.”
“Okay, Kyle, you need to calm down and…” Cartman tries to grab his hands, but Kyle pulls away, breathing hard.
“Because I want this to work, and you deserve so much, and I don’t…”
He cuts off when Cartman suddenly cradles his face in both hands. Kyle blinks, instinctively matching Cartman’s breathing until his own calms.
“Enough,” Cartman says seriously, knowing Kyle will listen now. “Khal, I literally don’t care about any of that…”
“Cartman,” Kyle warns, but his voice is not louder than a wounded whisper.
“Let me finish. God, you’re so impatient,” Cartman rolls his eyes. “What I mean is we don’t have to make a big deal out of ‘first date’ It’s dumb and cheesy and…”
Kyle raises an eyebrow, because that’s the opposite of what Cartman really is. They both know he’s a hopeless romantic, despite the heartless Casanova image the media has constructed on his civilian life.
“Okay, okay, let me rephrase,” Cartman chuckles, brushing his thumbs over Kyle’s cheeks and pulling him closer. “What matters to me is that it’s with you, Khal. And I know that restaurant isn’t your vibe.”
“It’s your favorite,” Kyle points out. “And your other dates…” He trails off, thinking of all the gossip columns he’s had to suffer through at the editor’s desk.
“Business dinners,” Cartman corrects, rolling his eyes. “They’re nosy. It’s not worth clarifying when some gossip hound asks.”
“But you…”
He loses his train of thought when Cartman’s lips brush his. Concentrating is impossible with him this close.
“I just want to spend time with you,” Cartman says sincerely, kissing him softly before pulling back. “If our first real date ends up being in that shoebox you call an apartment, eating instant noodles, that’s fine. Because I’ll be with you.”
Kyle’s heart races and he can feels his face heating up. God, if that isn’t ridiculously cheesy. All this effort to meet expectations Cartman apparently doesn’t even have…
“Yeah, dining at my favorite restaurant sounds like a great date,” Cartman adds, lacing their fingers together, “but let’s be honest, you couldn’t afford the cheapest appetizer.”
Kyle snorts, gently squeezing his hands.
“I wanted it to be special,” he whispers, having repeated that line in his head for weeks.
But would it really have been?
He stressed about an elaborate plan tailored to Cartman’s tastes, ignoring the strain it put on his own life. But thinking about it now, in the way Cartman framed it, Kyle realizes he wouldn’t have been able to relax at that restaurant, knowing he'd want to cover the bill and end up short on rent for months.
“If it’s with you, it’ll be special,” Cartman replies, immediately looking away. But it’s too late, Kyle sees the blush, the way his lips press together like those words slipped out accidentally.
He finally relaxes, exhaling softly.
He replays the conversation, slightly embarrassed by his outburst, but something Cartman said makes him smile, the tension melting from his shoulders.
“Wanna eat instant noodles at my place?” he asks, trying not to grin as Cartman turns to him, puzzled.
It takes Cartman a second to get it, but when he does, his face lights up with a mischievous smile.
“Took you long enough to ask,” Cartman laughs, letting go of one hand to tug him toward the stairs.
In the end, once they arrive at his apartment, Kyle decides to cook something a bit more elaborate than instant noodles, though not too much, since the fatigue from the fight is starting to wear him down. He settles on making pasta with red sauce and some meat leftover from the last time his mom brought him food. While he cooks, Cartman joins him after changing out of his suit into more comfortable clothes, squeezing into the tiny kitchen to complain about everything and nothing at once. They talk about things that have happened at Kyle’s job in recent days, gripe some more about the villain who ruined their evening, but this time it’s much lighter. Kyle’s mood has improved significantly.
When they move to the couch to eat, despite Kyle’s threats that if Cartman stains and ruins it, he’ll make him swallow the whole thing, the brunet shifts the conversation to more trivial topics, sharing juicy gossip from “high society.” Kyle has no doubt he knows all this just to blackmail the important people he associates with. There’s no way all the fortune he’s amassed doesn’t include at least a few dollars from extortion.
He can’t help but mention it to Cartman, and when the latter burst into laughter, Kyle’s heart melts. He can’t bring himself to be mad when that laugh sends a splash of sauce onto the arm of the couch.
“I won’t confirm or deny that, my dear Kyle,” Cartman says between gasps for air, trying to calm his laughter. “You’re a sneaky little reporter, after all.”
“I don’t work the gossip column,” Kyle points out with amusement, handing him a napkin.
“You’re still sneaky,” Cartman replies petulantly, wiping his lips before continuing his dinner.
Kyle chuckles softly, returning his attention to his plate, playing with the last few noodles.
“It wasn’t ridiculous,” Cartman says suddenly. When Kyle looks up, he finds that Cartman isn’t looking at him but at his own plate, as if it held all the secrets of the universe hidden in clumps of sauce.
“Sorry?” Kyle asks, a bit confused, not quite following whatever train of thought Cartman’s on.
“Your confession,” he clarifies, and his face flushes under Kyle’s attention. He clears his throat softly, sets his plate on the coffee table, and finally looks at him. “What I said earlier about accepting your love confession. It wasn’t ridiculous.”
Kyle hadn’t even remembered he’d said that. Or rather, he’d been so focused on how small and insignificant he’d felt for a moment, and then the overwhelming relief that followed, that part of the conversation had faded into the background.
He smiles gently, sets his plate down next to Cartman’s, and takes his hand, intertwining their fingers and lifting it to his lips to place a small kiss on it.
“Yours was,” he replies playfully, smiling wide to let him know he doesn’t mean it seriously. “And incredibly cheesy.”
“It was not cheesy!” Cartman gasps, scandalized, but Kyle sees him fighting a smile, so he knows the message was received. Cartman tries to pull his hand away while leaning toward him. “It was the greatest declaration of love you’ve ever heard in your entire damn life, alien.”
“Cartman, you cried the whole time and got snot all over my suit,” Kyle shoots back, adjusting on the couch to make room for Cartman to crawl into his lap.
“You were crying too!” he says through laughter, successfully freeing his hand and immediately bringing it to Kyle’s hair, tangling his fingers gently through the curls.
“From laughing at how ridiculous your declaration was,” Kyle whispers, wrapping his arms around Cartman’s back and hugging him as tightly as he knows he can handle.
“Ugh, whatever, mine was better,” Cartman rolls his eyes.
Before Kyle can argue, the brunet leans in and kisses him hard. Kyle responds immediately, sliding his hands under Cartman’s sweater to caress his back.
The kiss is intense at first, their teeth clashing as they both fight for control, but slowly it softens into something languid and gentle. They both sigh quietly, and Cartman settles with his head resting on Kyle’s chest.
The position isn’t very comfortable, they’ll probably regret it in the morning if they fall asleep like this, and the couch is far too small for two grown men. Kyle can even hear the springs protesting under their combined weight, but neither of them wants to move, and he doesn’t mind having Cartman lying on him like a cat.
He thinks about everything that happened during the day, the stress he’d felt all afternoon, which he’d mistaken for anxiety over the date; the anger when, just as they were about to leave for the restaurant, that stupid villain decided to attack and cost them the reservation. And he thinks about how nice this last hour has been, the two of them eating in peace in his apartment, which Cartman seems to enjoy, considering there’s more of Cartman’s clothes than Kyle’s in the bedroom despite his protests that it’s too small.
“You were right,” he whispers quietly, glancing down at Cartman and smiling when he finds him already half-asleep.
“Hm?” Cartman lifts his head, blinking slowly, not making much effort to fight off sleep. “About what?”
“About how I should thank that villain for ruining my plans,” Kyle clarifies, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “This is so much better.”
Cartman smiles and nestles back against his chest.
“Of course I was right, Khal. I’m never wrong.”
Kyle laughs and hugs him a little tighter before closing his eyes, letting him have the victory, just this once.
It hadn’t been a bad first date after all.