It'd all seemed so perfect last year.

Rent split three ways, best friends living with one another already aware of the others' quirks. The strange and yet perfect balance that seemed to sway amongst their particular lifestyles. From Kyle's compulsive need to clean to Kenny's lackadaisical attitude towards grime and settling nicely in the middle where Stan's empty beer bottles would occasionally be left on the counter overnight. It seemed perfect on paper. The three of them employed and bringing in more than enough money to keep themselves nicely situated where they were, to not worry themselves with the stress of the outside world so long as their homestead remained rooted where it was.

Or, it was a nice theory.

But the outside world was ringing, or more specifically, buzzing from beside Kyle on the couch. He glanced down from a dull viewing of the evening news to find Kenny's cracked screen alit with a notification. His heart clenched, jaw locking at an all-too-specific indication in front of him.

Ally
'Surprise! I'm in the parking lot omw up. Thought may…'

Kyle gulped, fingers twitching anxiously. He glanced between the phone as it faded out and towards the bathroom, hearing the shower running, knowing Kenny was busy scrubbing off a pancake mishap. He looked up in thought, running through the timetable. He'd only been in there about seven minutes. He usually took fifteen minutes in the shower, plus drying off and getting easily distracted reading shampoo bottle labels.

Plenty of time.

Kyle snatched up the phone and turned it back on, swiping over the message notification and feeling his eyes narrow, fingers clenching. This was easy enough to explain away. That he just automatically grabbed and swiped thinking it was his phone before realizing his blunder. Kenny would never know the difference.

Ally
'Surprise! I'm in the parking lot omw up. Thought maybe you could show me those new sheets ;)'

Kyle scoffed, offended. He had gone with Kenny to the store for those new sheets. Why this random girl thought she had exclusive rights to their christening was baffling. He grumbled, thumb tracing up and hitting the circled i in the right-hand corner, watching her contact information pop up. His eyes traced down to Kenny's notes, reading a hastily-typed 'idk some tindr chick. 5.5/10 at best'.

He shook his head, feeling his stomach wrenching in both hurt and a bit of disgust from Kenny's need to make a note of such a thing. But the tactlessness didn't matter. What really mattered was that 5.5 out of 10 was a failing grade. Kenny McCormick of all people shouldn't have to stoop to such a level.

Kyle flipped back to their messages, scrolling up a bit until landing on a blatant message just reading their address, preempted by what's-her-name's smug declaration of 'well what if I want to come see you sometime?'

He gritted his teeth, looking back at Kenny's previous string of texts, each along the lines of 'I don't know about that.'

Kyle's eyes lit up. Ah ha. He was coerced. He didn't want this. This bitch was taking advantage of how Kenny would always eventually wear down with enough persuasion. He didn't deserve that kind of treatment, Kyle thought firmly. He needed protected from this girl, and only his good buddy, ol' pal Kyle would be willing to step onto the front line to take care of him.

His head jerked up at a knock on the front door, teeth bared as his lips curled into a snarl before clearing his throat and getting to his feet, forcing his face down into a neutral position and sauntering his way across the living room. 'Alrighty, 5.5,' he smirked to himself, 'You're not crossing through.' He rolled back his shoulders and opened the door, blinking rapidly at a busty brunette smiling at him with wide green eyes.

"Hi," she greeted.

"Hi," he said smoothly. "Can I help you?"

She cleared her throat, trying to peer a bit more into the apartment as Kyle refused to open the door more than just enough for his head. "I'm here to see Ken?"

'You do not know him well enough to call him that, you succubus,' he thought bitterly before forcing a sad frown over his face. "Oooh, yeah… Ken can't have any visitors right now," he winced.

Ally blinked, "What? Why not?"

"Suuuper sick," he drawled. "Poor guy is just suffering and nothing but contagions. Like, this apartment may as well be under quarantine. Only people allowed in there with him is myself and our roommate…" he paused, dirty inspiration slamming into him at once. "And his girlfriend," he added casually.

Those bright eyes slowly narrowed, letting his words take hold. "Um… I'm sorry. Did you say girlfriend?"

He nodded, "Yeah. M… Miranda," he forced out. "Been together like, four years. Sweetest couple, I swear. Are you a friend of Kenny's? I can… give him a message if you want," he shrugged, forcing himself into that innocent stare he'd perfected to use against his mother in his youth. That puppy-dog expression of 'I could never lead you astray. Look how small and cute I can be when I try.'

She clicked her teeth, looking down at her fists as they curled together, nodding to herself in anger. Kyle couldn't help the inner dance at the expression, for once in his life seeming to play all the right cards. "Yeah, actually," she finally said with venom in her tone. "Tell him Ally said to fuck off and die," she grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut, Kyle following with his grip still on the knob and smashing his face against the doorframe.

"Oh, BITCH!" he shouted, backing off and rubbing his nose. He perked, hearing the shower shut off and his heart clenched, pivoting and running to the couch, falling over himself onto the cushions as he snatched Kenny's phone back up and into his messages. He gulped as he selected her arrival indication, hurriedly deleting it and putting the device back onto his home screen, setting it back into its place in Kenny's seat. He took a shaking breath, running his hand through his hair and trying not to look like he'd just neared a heart attack, wincing at his nose still throbbing irritably.

"…Wow," a voice piqued over the thundering of his heart.

Kyle turned his head, eyes wide as they locked with Stan staring at him with a mug of tea in his hand.

"Dude," he continued, "what the fuck was that?!"

Kyle's jaw fumbled, entire torso tremoring with anxiety. Fuck. Fuck. "I-I… she… um," he stammered, wishing he could slip right back into that perfected lying tone. He wasn't awfully surprised he couldn't, deceiving Stan was a near-impossibility to begin with, he'd struggled in doing so since they were kids. Being caught red-handed didn't exactly help him, either. "S-she… seemed like… b-bad news?" he winced.

Stan narrowed his eyes, walking over and leaning over the back of the couch, resting his arms along the edge and studying the way Kyle squirmed and stared off at the television still playing away. His fingers twitched, his cheeks flushed, the tension was nearly about to send Stan running off to his room for his goddamn inhaler. "Kyle. That wasn't cool."

"Oh, yeah, because you didn't fucking mislead Clyde when he was thinking about asking out Wendy when you guys broke up for the fourth time!" he snapped, keeping his voice low enough to keep out of Kenny's audible bubble. "Don't act like you're perfect!"

His face dropped wryly, "That was in fucking middle school, Kyle. We're a little past that stage I would think. Oh, and Wendy was actually my girlfriend before and after I pulled that shit. Don't think you have the same kind of excuse to fall back on here."

Kyle pouted, crossing his arms and looking down at Kenny's phone. "That girl was only a five and a half outta ten. Ken can do better."

"…Kyle, that girl was an eight at least," he scoffed. "I know they're not your thing but you're not blind."

His shoulders sank, stomach curdling with bile. He'd welcome it, just letting the acids seep through him and destroy him from the inside out, leave him nothing but a liquefied corpse on the sofa. "Really?" he barely whispered, curling up uncomfortably. Kenny had some ridiculously high standards then, it seemed. If she was a fucking five and a half, he had to be a goddamn negative seven. He groaned, hiding his face in his hand and taking a shaking breath. "Please don't tell him," he begged. "Please."

Stan rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. "Fine, I won't. But that was really shitty of you, Kyle." Kyle sank further, head bowing in the slightest and unable to tear his sight away from his legs. He flinched hearing the bathroom door open and light footsteps making their way towards him.

"Aight, you guys, don't let me have syrup no more," Kenny drawled as he made way to snag a beer from the fridge.

Stan scoffed, "Yeah. Getting between you and any kind of food is worse than getting between Cartman and food." Kyle sighed, wondering how the living hell Stan was keeping such a nonchalant tone.

"Nah," he waved him off. "I'll just whine. Fatass would literally eat you to get there." Stan snorted, giving a conceding nod. Kenny made his way back over, seeing Kyle still hiding and he tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. "Ky? You all right?"

"Fine," he said quietly, feeling their eyes on him and shivering. He cringed as Kenny bent down further, awkwardly angling himself to lock stares. Kyle's breath hitched, seeing baby blue eyes widen in an absolute panic.

"Dude!" he said, putting his beer down precariously on the edge of the coffee table. "Your nose is bleeding!"

Kyle blinked, putting a finger up above his lip and pulling back, sighing irritably at bright red staring back at him. He glanced over at Kenny digging through an end-table drawer, throwing their console controllers off into the recliner and snatching a half-emptied travel pack of Kleenex from the back. He ripped one out and knelt in front of him, pressing it up under his nose. Kyle blushed, taking hold over it and averting his eyes as Kenny pulled his head down a bit further, scanning his face carefully. "You're really red, are you fevered? Can you get a nosebleed from a cold?" he looked up at Stan who just shook his head in disappointment before shrugging and taking another sip of his coffee.

"I'm sure he's fine, Kenny. Aren't you, Kyle?"

Kyle gulped, nodding quickly. "Yeah. Totally fine. I'm sure it's just… you know… mountain air and whatnot."

Kenny cocked his brow, looking at him suspiciously. "Ky, we've lived here 26 years and not once have you gotten a nosebleed from that."

He frowned, meeting eyes with him again and ignoring the simultaneous culpability and melting he felt from that doting stare. "You weren't with me every second of every day, Kenny," he reminded him. 'Unfortunately.'

Kenny went quiet, continuing to tilt his head and narrow his eyes. He knew that tone, and he knew this expression. Kyle was awful at hiding things. "Are you upset?" he asked quietly. He glanced up at Stan who gave another shrug, turning and heading to the kitchen island, needing the distance from the unbearable amount of awkward flooding around the two of them. Kenny blinked. Stan would be the first one to know if Kyle was feeling off. Something wasn't adding up. "Is… um… Did I do something?" he winced.

"NO!" Kyle nearly shouted in his face, both blinking and backing away from each other. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm just tired."

He nodded slowly, sliding up next to him on the couch and continuing that intensive stare that Kyle could feel stabbing into his bone marrow. "Mkay," he said softly. Pressing the issue would get him nowhere. If Kyle wanted to talk about it, he'd need to get there himself. All Kenny was managing to do was shove him deeper into the ditch he was taking shelter in. "We all just wanna get pizza for dinner? You don't look like you wanna cook."

Kyle sighed to himself, giving a subtle nod, not hearing Kenny asking for Stan's opinion and their routine argument of toppings. He pulled the tissue back from his nose, glaring at the blood smeared across the paper. Green eyes subtly glanced over to Kenny twisted around the back of the couch shooting off quips at Stan and he gulped, unable to help a small, shy smile as he was gestured to, Kenny rambling for Stan to remember Kyle's preference of onions over peppers before they made a final call on their three choices in the weekly special. Well. If a bloody nose and Stan thinking he was deceitful garbage was the worst he would get out of today, then he would take it.

Two months later

Kenny was a naturally nosey person, he'd never been one to deny it. So passing by Kyle's room at seven o'clock and seeing clothes flying about the room through a crack in the door led to a plethora of questions that he had no intention of holding back. He cleared his throat, rapping the back of his knuckles on his doorframe.

"Come in," Kyle called, Kenny pushing the door the rest of the way and sliding through, finding himself staring at a shirtless Kyle holding two tops in his hands. "Okay, what the fuck why is this so hard," he muttered.

Kenny blinked himself out of his stupor, forcing his hands into his pockets so Kyle couldn't see his fists clench in frustration. "What's up?"

"Oh, some guy's taking me to dinner," he rolled his eyes. "And I can't fucking pick a goddamn shirt."

Kenny's chest wrenched shut, eyes widening and a gulp barely able to work its way down his compromised throat. "Oh. Um… t-the blue one," he suggested, jerking his head to the clothing clutched in his right hand. 'The green one makes your eyes pop too damn much for some stranger,' he thought, teeth grinding.

Kyle glanced at him before shrugging and throwing the green aside, Kenny nearly whining as he slipped on his suggestion and took away such a viewing pleasure he'd stumbled onto. "Thanks. So what's up?"

"Uh, nothin'. Just wonderin' what you were up to tonight. Was gonna… ya know suggest Playstation night but apparently you're aimin' to play with somethin' else," he forced a cheeky grin on his face.

Kyle snorted a bit, snagging a wide-toothed comb from his dresser and fighting through stubborn knots in his curls. "It's just dinner, Kenny."

"Well yeah but… ya know… dinner leads to drinks. Drinks lead to… bad choices…" he muttered, turning and staring at Kyle's desk, sighing at the paperwork stacked on the edge waiting for Kyle to sift through over the weekend. Fuck. Fuck this sucked.

He cocked his brow, "Are you telling me to not get laid? I thought that was the opposite of your advice to people before they went on a date. First or not."

Kenny raised his head a bit primly, "That's not true."

"Dude, you used to hand people a condom when they announced they were going out with someone," he rolled his eyes, wincing at a particularly rough snag.

He cleared his throat, rocking his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet. "I think I've matured quite a bit since my high school shenanigans, Broflovski."

He smirked, "Ken, you were eating cereal and watching porn this morning; don't fucking start with some false maturity bullshit."

"Ay. It is called wankfast and it is genius," he returned the expression, eyes brightening as Kyle broke into a ripple of chuckles. He loved that sound. Loved when he got Kyle to finally laugh instead of stifling it like he tended to do. Kyle hated his laugh with a passion, finding it far too loud and reminiscent of his mother and tried his damnedest to hide it, but Kenny just adored dragging it out of him. It was a daily goal of his, one he was always striving to break the record in. He sighed to himself, watching with a small, crooked smile as Kyle simmered, finally defeating his spiraled foe.

Defeating that foe for some other guy.

His smile dropped, shoulders following suit. It didn't happen often, not nearly as often as Kenny would think someone like Kyle would be snatched up for a night out, but every time it did, it damn near killed him. "So, tell me 'bout this guy," he said coolly.

Kyle shrugged, "Met him on a dating site." Kenny flinched at the notion before settling and shaking his head at himself. Not like he didn't have goddamn hook-up apps taking most of the memory on his phone. He couldn't exactly get angry over that. "He seems nice. Teaches high school calculus, so he's apparently educated," he continued. "That's all I really know."

Kenny's eye twitched. There it was: Exactly what was holding him back from going full-out exploding his feelings all over Kyle's bedroom floor. He wasn't Kyle's type. No, he wanted the educated, someone he could wax philosophies with or go to fucking operas or whatever the fuck people with college degrees did. He didn't want auto shop Kenny who struggled with a full-time blue collar job. Who came home reeking of oil and looking like he was thrown into a pit of tar. Who sat there blankly staring while Kyle ranted about his own job, not understanding what the flying fuck he was talking about as he delved into finance obscurity and only comforting him when there was an open beat for him to do so.

It wasn't fair.

They both jolted at the sound of the front door and Kyle cursed under his breath. "Shit, he's early. Dude, can you-"

"Stall him. Got it," he nodded, turning and walking out of Kyle's room, closing the door behind him and gritting his teeth. He'd stall the goddamn shit outta him.

He practically stomped his way through the living room, forcing himself to take a deep breath before tearing the door open, finding himself staring at a blonde he was nearly neck and neck with. 'Oh you have GOT to be kidding me!' he screamed internally, wondering if it would ruin Kyle's date if he just smashed his head into the fridge door.

The man smiled, "Hi. Does Kyle live here?"

Kenny blinked out of his stupor, plastering a smile on his face to match that he could feel twitching in the corners. "Yep! Sure does! Come on in!" The man raised his brow a bit but continued his grin, stepping in as Kenny let him pass, not noticing his fists tightening or how his breathing had all but stopped. "He's getting ready still. He'll be a few minutes."

He nodded, shrugging sheepishly, "Yeah, I'm a little early. I was really excited to meet him."

'I MET HIM 25 YEARS AGO YOU FUCK. I WIN.' Kenny kept on his smile, forcing his shaking hands back into his hoodie pocket. "Well who wouldn't be excited to meet him?" he drawled. "What's yer name?"

"Tony."

"Ah," he nodded, clicking his tongue. "That short for somethin'? Anthony? Antoinette?"

He snorted a bit, shaking his head. "Nope. Just Tony."

"Cool. Cool," he continued nodding. "Short names. Those are cool. Just like Kyle's. Same length n' everything."

Tony looked around a bit, perplexed by this bizarre conversation. "Uh… yep. We… share a 'y', too."

"HA!" he barked out a loud laugh. "Well ain't that swell! I share the 'y', the 'k', and the 'e'," he beamed. 'Ha. Can't take that from me, asshole.'

"That's… cool?" he shrugged, drowning in the uncomfortableness that Kenny was filling the space between them with. "Any… idea when he'll be ready?" he winced.

Kenny shrugged, "Won't be long, Tony, my friend." Tony nodded, coughing and scratching up through his hair, Kenny watching his every move. 'I don't like 'im,' he decided. 'Not good enough. Can't even talk with me. He ain't got a chance with Ky.' He cleared his throat, stepping up closer to the man, ignoring the perturbed shifting he exhibited at the proximity. "So. Ky tells me you're a teacher."

He visibly relaxed a bit at a more cliché topic, smiling again. "Yeah. Teach high school calc."

"So, smartie, huh?" he smirked.

He chuckled, "Well, I like to think so."

"Hmm… yeah no," he shook his head. "You think you're smart. You ain't met Kyle face-to-face yet."

He paused, looking at him and blinking, "Whaddya mean?"

Kenny shrugged casually, seeing his in, "I mean, Kyle's like, brilliant. You brilliant, Tony?"

He hesitated, "Um… not in my opinion. Talking with Kyle, though, we seem to be on a pretty equal level-"

"Wrong," Kenny interjected, cocking his brow. "Ky was valedictorian of our class. Were you?" Tony shook his head and Ken leaned closer. "He graduated college summa cum laude. Did you?"

"Uh… n-no. Just… regular honors," he winced.

Kenny straightened back up, shaking his head and letting out a low, pitiable whistle. "Aw. Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony," he sympathized, patting his shoulder. "The fact he even gave you the time of day… you must have one hell of a personality," he smiled.

Tony gulped, rubbing at his arm. "Did uh… did you go to college?"

"…Shut up we ain't talking about me," he snapped, tense stance dropping after Tony flinched a bit. "But I ain't the one takin' 'im out t' dinner," he reminded him. 'Un-fucking-fortunately.' He shrugged, "Gotta be careful though. The smart ones get away from ya like that!" he snapped in the man's face. "Ky has college professors linin' up to see 'im."

He winced, "Wait, seriously?"

"I'm super cereal," he nodded grimly. "He's really goin' outside his usual standards for you. And I've known 'im for all our lives. You want some advice to keep a hold on 'im? Because who'd wanna throw that fish back out?"

He nodded briskly, "Yeah. Yeah, anything. What?"

"Be. Gentle," he cooed, getting a bewildered stare out of the stranger. "No, trust me on this," he said firmly. "Ky ain't gonna like someone who ain't a gentleman. Hold the door open. Pay all the bill before he has so much as a chance to grab for it. Dance around topics he brings up, follow-ups just make him feel cornered. Treat him like a goddamn flower. He loves that kinda stuff." He watched Tony considering this and looking down at the ground, Kenny's lips curling into a cruel smirk. 'God if you last fucking twenty minutes with him acting like that I'll be fucking amazed.'

Tony looked up and he dropped his sly expression, watching him for his response. "Yeah. Okay, I can do that, that's not hard," he said. "Should I like… hold his hand or something, too?" he winced.

Kenny grinned, "Yes. Do that. Hold it and do not let go. Kyle loves that kind of jumpstart clinginess. Walk through a dark area, too," he advised. "Assure 'im that you'll protect 'im. Seriously. He is your Mary Jane and he knows it."

He laughed breathlessly, "Wow. Okay, he did not come across that way."

"That's how he weeds 'em out," he said smoothly. "But I like ya, Tony. I think you deserve a real shot without his test."

"Thanks, Man," he grinned, Kenny returning the expression.

He waved him off, "Don't worry 'bout it. Just… ya know. Try not t' think too hard about how smart he is. Might end up intimidatin' ya," he advised. Tony's relieved smile fell a bit, eyes swimming with uncertainty. 'Oh man I can't wait to hear about you tonight you fucking little-'

"Hey, sorry, sorry," Kyle's voice broke through and the two of them turned to see him walking over, coat draped over his arm. "Shoelace wrapped around my bed somehow," he snorted, looking up and smiling at his date. "Hi."

He grinned back worriedly, "Hi. Ready?"

"Yep. All set," he nodded, looking down as he slipped on his jacket.

Tony and Kenny shared a glance, Kenny holding up his hands and locking the fingers together, giving him a firm nod. Tony nodded back nervously, clearing his throat. "Well. Good… good meeting… you," he said awkwardly, letting Kyle lead the way before stepping forward briskly and opening the door for him.

Kyle jerked back, blinking at him. "Uh. Thanks." He turned to Kenny and smiled, "Bye, Ken. Bye, Stan," he waved towards the kitchen before they both walked out together.

Kenny froze, the sound of the door echoing around the apartment as his eyes craned towards the island to the side of the room, seeing Stan shaking his head in disapproval. "Dude. Fucking seriously?" he stressed.

"Listen," he jumped around, hand raising in defense. "He ain't right for Kyle. Okay? I can tell. That guy has potential serial rapist once he earns your trust written all over him. I am protecting him from ending up naked in a ditch."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long-winded groan. "Ken. You can't fucking keep doing that to his dates!"

"That's the first time I've-"

"Gone for the education hit," he interrupted, Kenny cringing at his hard-set glare. "But this… delicate flower bullshit you've been pulling for years."

He crossed his arms and pouted, "Have not."

"You fucking started this in high school," he hissed.

Kenny's foot rapidly tapped against the carpeted floor, fidgeting and looking at the door time and again. "Well why does he have to be blonde?!" he whined. "What's wrong with my blondeness?!"

Stan rubbed his temple, shaking his head and forcing himself to take a cleansing breath. He should've gone out tonight. Should've gone out and stayed out until Monday. Weekends with the two of them were just unbearable. "Well, maybe if you weren't being a manipulative pussy and just fucking asked him out, you wouldn't be having this problem!" he snapped.

Ken stopped, staring at him and an angry breath seeping through flaring nostrils. "Easy for you to fucking say. You got your girlfriend before she was super fucking smart and everybody realized it and you were shoved to the bottom of the fucking list!" he snapped, pulling at his hair in frustration. "'Scuse me for not bein' able to compete with brawn or brains so I'm inconveniencing you and your fucking monogamous sainthood, Jesus fucking Christ!" he shouted, turning and stomping off towards his room.

"Ken… Ken, no. I didn't mean it li-" he stopped with the door slamming shut and the walls vibrating, eyes closed and a long growl shaking through his throat. He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together and looking at the ceiling. "God? I don't know what the fuck I did to deserve this. But I'm sorry. And I will do my goddamn- …Sorry. My gosh darn Hail Mary's. So… please. Tell Wendy to let. Me. Move. In. I think that I have repented by this point!"

He glanced towards his phone on the counter, holding his breath for a good twenty seconds waiting for that saving grace, for Wendy to finally share her space with him. He slumped when nothing happened, groaning and putting his face into his palms. Of fucking course not.

Kenny wondered if this was what expectant fathers used to feel like before they were allowed in the delivery room. His stomach was in knots, he couldn't stop looking at the door. He looked down at his phone for the third time in five minutes, reading a worrying 3:18.

How fucking long should dinner take? God, what if his clumsy self-defense was right? What if he and Stan had let Kyle go off with some maniac and he was bleeding out somewhere, alone and cold and scared?

He shook his head out of that nonsense, rubbing his blearing eyes and looking back at the television playing some western for background noise. God, why couldn't he do that? Just get a fucking horse and ride off into the desert towards the sunset and get the hell away from this torment. He'd been moping all goddamn night, punching his pillow every time he thought about how fucking lucky this Tony fucker was, and how he was stuck at home alone on a Friday night just feeling miserable and alone. He'd considered more than once just messaging someone for a quickie, just purge the frustration out of his system as he'd been doing since they were seniors in high school and he first found himself staring at Kyle for just a tad too long.

It was wearing him down, and it wasn't working nearly as well as it had been when the pattern began. He leaned his head back and groaned. A part of him wanted to go full-on elementary about it. Stick a note under his door with two options for him to mark and the question of 'Do you like-like me?'. Or maybe just send Stan on in while he awkwardly lingered around the corner while Stan flat-out told Kyle of his crush so he could listen to his response without being on the spot himself.

Given, Stan never fucking helped him in this situation. Not once. And he'd figured it out only a few weeks after feelings started to develop, taking Kenny aside and telling him simply, "Don't fuck with him. He's not one of your goddamn floozies. I will kick your ass if you assume otherwise."

Kenny had taken that to heart, doing everything to avoid possibly blurting things out to Kyle and ruining everything between them. But he hated it. God did he hate it. He couldn't impress Kyle enough to make him just swoon and let it naturally play out. He couldn't talk to him on his level without sounding like he was clueless about the topic and forcing it along. It just wasn't fair.

He jerked his head over at the door unlocking and shoving open, looking to see a very tired Kyle pushing his way into the apartment. Kyle cocked his brow, shutting the door behind him as he stepped inside. "Dude, don't you have work in the morning?"

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged. Not exactly a lie. He couldn't sleep knowing Kyle was out late with some other guy. "Soooo? How was Tony?" he asked, fighting down a sarcastic drawl.

Kyle shrugged back, hanging his jacket up beside the door and sighing, walking over and sitting next to him on the couch. "Not that great," he admitted, posture slouching and rubbing his eyes with a long, sad sigh. "I think something's wrong with me."

Kenny blinked, quickly shutting off the television and pivoting to face him. 'What's wrong is you're fucking perfect and don't realize it,' he thought before clearing his throat. "Whaddya mean?"

Kyle glanced over at him and groaned, turning as well and biting his lip. "Do I give off some… weird vibe?" he winced.

"What kind of weird?"

"Like… this fucking… damsel vibe?" he rolled his eyes, shoulders dropping. "I mean fucking shit, is it because I'm short? Why does every fucking guy I meet act like… like they need to protect me?" his face twisted.

Kenny gulped, eyes flickering away. "Um, I don't think you give that vibe, Ky. I dunno what to tell you."

He slumped further, shaking his head. "I'm so sick of this. He fucking treated me like I was fucking glass. We were at this motel and-"

"Whoa," Kenny cut him off, turning back and blinking rapidly as Kyle did the same in return. "What happened to 'it's just dinner'?"

He blushed, tucking hair behind his ear, "Kenny, it's been like, six months since I was with someone. Unless he was coming at me with a gun I don't think I would've been deterred." Kenny stiffened. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. So much for being a gentleman, Tony. "Sorry, do you not want me to talk about it?" Kyle asked quietly.

"No, no, go ahead," he forced out past the nausea. "Motel. Then what?"

"He… god I… You know how in movies the unnecessary 'first time' scenes are so saccharine all three of us barf?" he asked dryly, getting a nod in response. "Kick that up about 800% and you have whatever the fuck I was just put through."

Kenny couldn't help but snort. "That bad huh?"

"Dude. I faked an orgasm. I didn't know I could do that," he groaned, leaning back and covering his eyes. "But it was just so… bad. I don't know who the living fuck likes three hours of no-tongue kissing as foreplay but there I fucking was."

Kenny contained his beaming grin, patting his knee sympathetically. "That's tragic, Ky. How the hell did you fake it?"

He looked back down and rolled his eyes, "He didn't even get my shirt all the way off. He kept just kind of… pushing it up a little. So I just kind of made him kiss me so he wouldn't see, made some noises, and acted like I was cleaning up with the inside of my shirt."

Kenny couldn't stop himself from cracking up, getting a small, embarrassed smile out of Kyle. At least someone got some joy out of that awful scenario. "Damn, crafty lil fox you," he winked.

Kyle smirked, shaking his head. "I hated that. I always hate that. It's like guys see me and all of a sudden they think I'm theirs to defend or some shit."

Ken stopped his laughter, shoulders sinking guiltily. He'd just wanted to ruin Tony's night. Not Kyle's. He looked absolutely miserable. "Well, Ky… you're small and cute. It's instinct if anything," he shrugged.

His cheeks burst with color, the two of them locking stares and Kyle gulped. "Uh… did you just call me cute?"

He blinked, thinking over his next move carefully. This could be it. This could be his chance to lay it all out. Possibly help Kyle recover from his lack of a good time if all went well. Or ruining his night even further, making him feel awful over hurting Kenny's feelings and hiding himself away for weeks.

He couldn't do that to him.

"I mean, you got the big eyes and the floofy hair," he shrugged. "You're small and you fucking shave. So, sorry to tell ya, Dude, but you're the definition of a twink. You're cute by default."

"Oh. And you're not a twink?" he scoffed.

Kenny smirked, giving a small shrug. "I can play that part and pass off as others. You, my friend, cannot. And there's nothin' wrong with that." 'God there has never been anything that's been so right as that.'

Kyle stared at him, Kenny expecting a furious snap back at him before Kyle just sank a bit into the cushions. "I'm done," he muttered, Kenny cocking his head. "I'm done with dating. I'm just… I can't do this anymore. I'm so fucking sick of this," he said through gritted teeth. "Every fucking time I think I found someone half-sane, they meet me and all of a sudden I'm a teenage girl, not a nearly thirty year old man."

Kenny took a deep breath through his nose, chest twisting in guilt. "Well… what do you want them to do differently?"

"Just… talk to me like they're not just nodding along for the hell of it?" he winced. "And to stop thinking that just because we walk at night that they need to be prepared to stop me from getting kidnapped for a fucking sex trade? Like, holy shit I could probably beat the shit out of at least half I've ended up with the last few years, but they all act the same. I don't want a jackass but I want someone who doesn't… coddle me outside of appropriate times to do so. Does that make any sense?" he asked.

He nodded, "Makes perfect sense. Coddling's for when you're further than the first date anyway."

"Yes! Exactly," he nodded back briskly. "It's too… intimate for something like that so quickly. I just… I don't get it," he stressed, shoulders falling again as he looked off to the side and sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Kenny cringed to himself, biting on his lip. Shit. He was definitely understanding Stan's anger now. Seeing Kyle unfolding in slow motion in front of him spelled a perfectly valid question: Why the fuck did he think this wouldn't affect Kyle in a negative way? He was always going to be collateral damage, but Kenny just thought he'd be annoyed, maybe change his tastes. He didn't think he'd be grinding his self-esteem down like this, have him questioning his own validity. It was selfish. Selfish and half-baked wishing. "Nothing's wrong," he said quietly, Kyle looking back at him finally with such a defeated expression it tore Kenny's heart apart. "If a guy can't figure out what you're actually like, it's not you. It's them."

"Something had to have happened," he muttered. "I didn't deal with this in high school, at least not earlier on, ya know? Maybe I did get more like a damn pussy and I just never fucking realized it."

He frowned, "Stan and I woulda called you right out on that were that the case. And you know Fatass woulda been all over that shit right out the gate. It ain't you, Ky."

Kyle sighed, rubbing at his eyes and shaking his head. "I don't know anymore, Ken. I really don't. I'm just… I'm gonna go to bed. You should, too," he said, getting back onto his feet and Kenny scrambling to join him.

Kenny let out a long breath, aching to just scream the truth, tell him that everything up to this point was his fault. But he didn't want to ruin this more than he already had. Last thing Kyle needed was to feel betrayed and unable to trust him ever again. "You gonna be okay?" he finally worked out.

Kyle nodded, "Yeah. Pissed, but I'll be fine. Just gonna… bury myself in work this weekend and try not to find someone on Craigslist."

He cocked his head, "Whaddya mean?"

"You know… skip the date. Go there for getting laid and leave. Like a seventy percent chance I'd be murdered but whatever. Better than a guy telling me he'll make sure my delicate little self is protected," he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away towards his room without another word. Kenny watched after him, flinching as Kyle shut his door just a little too hard. He gulped, rubbing his arm awkwardly as he silently switched off the living room light and headed towards his own room.

His chest felt wrenched shut with substantial guilt, stomach twisting on itself, brain and heart screaming bloody murder at him for letting things go this far. Hurting Kyle was the last thing he wanted to do, but he'd done so with gusto, and had been for nearly nine fucking years.

Kenny groaned, stepping into his room and shutting the door, walking through the dark straight to his bed and falling face first into his mattress, letting out a shuddering breath. He was so fucking stupid. He was so fucking self-centered. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't watch from the sidelines as he lined Kyle up to be hurt time and again with the faint hope it'd lead to him coming to him as solace.

He lifted his head a bit at a sudden thumping from behind the wall, wincing as he recognized the clear-cut sound of Kyle beating his fists against his mattress to get out frustrations. He'd witnessed it from him time and again after fights with Stan or his mother, after flubbing a test, after a particularly difficult day on the job. He needed to work out an absolute fury so he didn't unwittingly take it out on someone who didn't deserve his enragement. Kenny curled into himself, cursing the all-too-thin walls and knowing that Kyle would keep this up for another good twenty minutes until he wore himself down and passed out.

Kenny rolled over to lie on his back, forcing himself to listen to the metronomic pulse of Kyle's anger. It was a small repentance, having to subject himself to hearing the error of his ways, having to force himself to realize just what it was he was doing to his best friend, to the object of his affections, to an innocent who didn't deserve to be treated like such garbage. Kenny imagined for a moment Kyle was punching him instead, winding him, bruising him, but he knew that he deserved every goddamn blow being struck. He closed his eyes, knowing Kyle was in there with gritted teeth and aching fists already, with such furious tears along his lashes that he would sooner knock himself unconscious against a wall before he let fall. Kenny forced off his own wave of trepid water welling behind his eyelids, leading himself through a deep breath under the sound of springs bouncing and Kyle's minimal growls. 'Never again,' he made himself promise. Kyle deserved so much better than this, deserved someone not so full of deceit and wanting that they'd put his happiness on the backburner for their own gains. 'Never ever again.'

Four months later

The walk down the complex block was always hell to deal with between the gaping cracks in the sidewalk trying to trip up his footing and spontaneous doors opening that he always nearly walked straight into. Though Kyle couldn't say they would be anyone's fault but his own as he looked down at the papers in his hand as he moved down the way.

He didn't know why he always brought work home with him. It certainly wasn't expected of him, and made him look like a kiss-ass trying to sneak himself into a promotion once a spot opened. Or, he knew why he did so, but he sure as hell didn't like to admit it. It kept him busy, kept him distracted from the blond in the next room over. Headphones and paperwork with his back to his door, that was all he needed.

It kept him staying up later than Kenny so he didn't fall prey to again hearing his nightly sessions and finding himself hard but refusing to let himself fall that low. He'd done it once and only once, hearing those quiet grunts between their shared barrier and imagining them right into his ear, seeing blue eyes staring him down like pins refusing to let him slip from their grasp. It'd been both the hardest and the worst orgasm of his entire life, having to practically shove his entire fist into his mouth to keep silent and sinking back onto the bed with such a nauseating guilt he swore himself away from the wall entirely. He'd blast his music until he knew Ken had to be asleep before allowing himself to crawl under the covers. It fucked with his schedule and made him a groggy disaster every single morning, but it was necessary. So he didn't degrade his friend like that ever again, make him the object of his needy fantasies and find himself unable to look him in the eye the next day as they danced around one another trying to get ready for work.

Looking at the spreadsheet in his fingers, however, Kyle couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't just decided to get super into gaming to pass his time and take his mind off some other kind of sheets spreading. He sighed to himself. Another weekend. Another two days of either being trapped in the house with Kenny or practically vomiting as he watched Kenny saunter out with a chipper goodbye as he left to add yet another notch to his bedpost.

He'd been well behaved over the last few months since Stan had caught him red-handed, having stood off silently to the side and let Kenny rant and rave over banging this and that. Kyle wondered more often than he would've liked if he could get that kind of bragging out of Kenny. If his smirk would stay as pronounced, if his tone would sink down as slyly. He'd heard far too many 'best blowjob of my life' and 'tight as they come, I swear to god' quips the last five years. Maybe he could beat those records if he'd get the fucking courage to make an advance. Maybe Kenny would hit the bar with Craig and do nothing but gush about how he was in bed until Craig broke a beer bottle over his head for going too into detail.

Maybe. Or maybe in that situation he'd be one of Kenny's shorter stories. One of the "…eh. Maybe I'll try with 'em again later, but hope they ain't crossin' their fingers" victims. Kyle's face scrunched. God, what if that was his problem in the dating world? Maybe it was just an utter lack of sex appeal. Maybe they treated him like a fucking girl because he seemed like one of the chicks who just tried too hard. Only instead of caked in makeup and laughing at every joke, he seemed too casual. He came off as playing hard to get when it was more 'I don't fucking want you but you're here to fill a void. A very specific void'.

He hummed to himself in thought, snagging his keys out of his pocket as he approached their apartment. Maybe he needed to change that in particular. Maybe he needed to go on dates with a cheesy smile and battering lashes. Maybe acting like a girl would defeat the notion that he was one. Somehow. Or maybe he'd just look like he should be the poster stereotype and let his wrist hang down and wrap a goddamn pink boa around his damn neck. He pouted as he shoved the door open and stepped inside.

Didn't matter, he was just destined to lose.

He shut the door behind him and sighed, looking over at a form in his peripheral and freezing at a strange man with a mop of curly brown hair staring back at him wearing nothing but boxers with a can of soda in his hand. Kyle glanced around briskly, noting specific decorations and Kenny's constant beer bottle collection on the coffee table to assure himself that yes, this was indeed his apartment. He landed back on the man, cringing as he continued to stare at him awkwardly, as though he were the one owing the explanation for his presence.

"Uh… You are?" Kyle finally spoke.

"Um… 'Sup," he waved inelegantly. "Mike. Was told no one was home."

Kyle clicked his tongue, "Well. Guess you were told wrong."

"Guess so…" he started slowly making his way back out from the kitchen towards the edge of the living room, both turning their heads at the sound of a door opening. Kyle's heart sank at Kenny stepping out into the living room in the same classy garb as the strange man in his kitchen, the two of them locking stares.

Kenny's breath hitched at the unexpected presence, forcing himself to swallow down a gulp. "You're um… you're home early," he worked out.

"Wrapped up early, we all went home," he replied, clutching his spreadsheets against his chest, as though they could protect him from the pure anguish he could feel puncturing his veins. It was one thing to hear the stories. Those were easy enough to convince himself that they were nothing but fiction, just stories that Kenny told to make it sound like he'd had more interesting a night than he'd actually had. It was another to see them playing out right before his eyes, holding a can of his goddamn soda.

Kenny bit his inner lip, stealing a glance at Mike still gauchely lingering between the two of them and feeling way more naked than he was in his boxers. His skin felt stripped off, he felt beyond exposed, as though Kyle catching his fling was the nail in the coffin. It was the final straw. Kyle wouldn't want to be associated with someone who chose people like Mike as a hook-up. "Um… Dude I'm sorry. I-I know we have the whole… 'not while the others are home' thing, but-"

"No no no," he interrupted, waving him off. "My fault. Should've texted or something. I uh… I-I can… leave if you want me-"

"No, don't leave," he shook his head briskly, heart racing. No, he didn't want Kyle to run off, he didn't want Kyle to find himself at a bar to pass the time and hooking up with someone, too. Selfish again, maybe. But it wasn't flat-out intentional sabotage, right? Or hell, maybe it was, but he didn't care. Mike was a poor substitute for the real thing, and Kenny was fucking terrified that Kyle would go off and have the best fucking time of his life and not want to come back home. He definitely wasn't going to want to if he was possibly going to walk into this kind of situation, at least.

Kyle shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking between the two of them. "Um… okay. I'm gonna… go to my room then," he murmured, stepping off and looking down at the floor, mentally berating himself for a wall of water against his eyeballs. 'Don't you fucking do it, Broflovski,' he scolded himself, forcing himself to keep his eyes clear of Kenny's barely-dressed form. 'Don't prove those fucking guys right!'

Kenny cringed, reading the pure distress on him like no other. "Kyle, are you okay-"

"I'm great, got lots of paperwork to do, bye," he hurriedly mumbled out, practically running to his room and slamming the door shut, both Kenny and his guest flinching at the noise.

Mike looked over at Kenny and raised his brow, "Seems… nice?"

"The nicest," he bit, giving him a short, sharp glare before looking back at Kyle's door. He felt like he should do something here. Comfort him? Ask him if he can bring him anything? Call Stan and get him to talk it out with Kyle?

Or, more than likely, he needed to leave him alone.

He took a deep breath, wondering what he'd done exactly to set him off. Maybe it was from practically flaunting his hook-up while Kyle had been dry for months, still on his 'never dating again' kick. But he didn't mean to. Kyle was supposed to be gone another two hours, he thought he had plenty of time to get his companion out of the apartment before then… But it didn't matter. Kyle had seen what he'd seen. There was no going back from that.

"So?" Mike stepped up in front of him, Kenny looking down as he took a casual sip of his drink. "Still wanna do dinner?"

"Um… s-sure," he nodded.

Yeah. Yeah giving Kyle space. That's all he needed to do. Let him recover from the awkwardness and they could laugh about it later.

Or, at least, he could damn well fake it.

Why he went out, especially after already relieving his tension as intended, sometimes he didn't know.

The food was terrible in comparison to Kyle's cooking. Mike was about as enthralling as a plank of plywood. His beer seemed over-oxidized and left a nasty aftertaste that he couldn't seem to wash out. Or maybe it wasn't the beer, because that taste seemed to have followed him from the apartment to the restaurant and back.

Kenny sighed, stealing a look at his phone and rolling his eyes at a text already from Mike after dropping him off at home. 'Had a great time tonight ;)'

"Well. That makes one of us," he grumbled, glancing at the time and sighing at the glowing 12:49 plastered over his wallpaper. He'd had to keep himself out of the apartment for nearly six hours, opting to allow Mike to suggest a movie follow-up to dinner. The stranger had wanted him to just stay at his apartment for the night, but Kenny couldn't stomach that thought, thinking of the way Kyle's face dropped and how he'd suddenly been reduced into shy, quiet tones. No, instead he made up having a shift in the morning and needing his sleep, slipping in a hell of a lie about Mike just 'wearing him out too much' for functionality the next day.

Kenny had a feeling that he'd be pretty goddamn alert and not think twice about today's events once morning finally rolled around and he could just mope in bed all damn day.

He came up to the apartment door and tried the knob first as he always did, though his brow rose in the slightest to see it twisting open. Seemed awful late for this. Kyle usually shut himself in his room by 10:30 and Stan tended to leave every weekend he could manage. An unlocked door this late at night filled him with curiosity and dread, hoping he wasn't about to walk into some gruesome scene from a robbery gone horridly wrong.

Kenny rolled his eyes at himself as he pressed inside. The whole worst-case scenario thing really needed to knock it the fuck off, at least for tonight.

He stepped into the living room and closed the door, looking up just in time to yelp at a pillow flying towards him and smacking into his face. He stumbled back against the barrier, blinking in bewilderment at Kyle grabbing at another cushion and Stan casually sipping at a beer from behind the island. "Dude, what the-" he stopped at another pillow slamming against his face, batting it down and staring at Kyle with wide eyes. "The fuck are you doing?" he questioned, expression dropping at a familiar glaze warped around Kyle's irises, an all-too-telling reddening of his cheeks and a slight stumble as he stood.

He was wasted out of his goddamn mind.

"Kyle, what the fuck happened?!" he asked, trying to take a step forward before Kyle clumsily reached for a pile of more soft objects from around the apartment gathered at his feet to wail at him.

"YOU'RE WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED!" Kyle screamed, snatching Stan's balled-up Broncos jersey and flinging it at him.

"WHAT DID I DO?!" he pleaded, beating off a barrage of shirts and pants coming at him far too fast for him to comprehend drunken Kyle being able to manage.

Kyle screeched through his teeth, nearly tumbling over and catching himself on the arm of the sofa as he stretched for another projectile. "You're such fucking BULLSHIT! What the FUCK did… s-see in HIM?!"

Kenny blinked, not attempting to hit away another shirt hitting his arm. "What, Mike?"

His lip curled at the name, glassed eyes alit with a fury and a hurt that Kenny had never seen out of him before. "Didn't know you were… were into such hairy guys," he slurred out, having to catch himself again. "You a fuckin' furry?"

Kenny narrowed his eyes in befuddlement. "Ky. That's not what a fu-"

"I KNOW THAT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT," he cut him off, lobbing another pillow at him and missing entirely.

He looked over at Stan, still nonchalantly sipping away and watching the show before him unfold. "Wanna fuckin' fill me in?!" he demanded, gesturing to Kyle wavering in his steps.

Stan finished off his bottle, sticking it upside down in the sink and shaking his head. "Nope. I was just here to help Kyle get a pile of soft crap so he didn't throw the TV at you. You two figure it the fuck out, I'm gone," he said bluntly, stepping out and away, Kenny watching him leave the apartment without another word, face etched in pure bewilderment until another hit smacked into his head and he turned back to his adversary.

"Ky," he tried, holding his hands up defensively and trying another step towards him, noticing for the first time just how much Kyle was quaking, how he seemed both on the brink of tears and the edge of flat-out stabbing him. "Ky, please," he begged. "Just tell me what I did! Is it because Mike was ya know… not… dressed?" he guessed with a wince.

Kyle stared at him, still shaking and taking short, controlling breaths, trying to keep himself from bursting at the seams but even through his drunken stupor knowing it was a losing battle. "It wasn't s'posed… happen… this way," he worked out, looking at the floor and hiccupping out quiet sniffles.

Kenny cocked his head, "What wasn't?"

"You don't… wash dishes," he groaned, falling back and landing on the couch arm, struggling to keep himself upright. "Socks… everywhere," he flapped his arms around dramatically, having to catch himself and cling onto the back cushion. Kenny hesitated, wanting to run up and help him but knowing from drunken Kyles of the past that he was playing a very dangerous game. Kyle moved a lot when he drank, and with enough force that he and Stan had both suffered bloodied noses at his unintentional hand. And that was when he was happily drunk, Kenny had only seen him angry drunk less than a handful of times. That rage could fall onto anyone in his path, and Kenny already seemed to be the chosen victim of his rampage when he wasn't even there for it to begin. He had to assume it'd only get worse with lessened proximity.

Ken gulped, "Okay… dishes and socks… w-what the hell does that mean?"

Kyle looked back up at him, Kenny nearly doubling back at tears finally leaking down his face. "Ease… easier to… forget… living here," he coughed out. "I… it wouldn't go away," he hid his face in his hands and shook his head. "Thought it would but… so much worse," he whispered.

He blinked, unused to Kyle unfurling like this, not used to such a torrent of upset emotions directed at him. "Ky… what's worse?" he prompted, braving another teeny step towards him.

He glanced back up, lip wobbling with such wretchedness it damn near broke Kenny's heart. "How come him?" he whimpered, forcing himself to get back to his feet and waver in his place. "S'not fair!" he yelled, sending Kenny reeling back before gulping and returning to his place, heart pounding at Kyle gesturing desperately to himself. "What's wrong… wrong with… me?!" he begged. "Nice and… and buy things for… a-and sick help…" he trailed off, looking down at his fingers and clenching them time and again, trying to ground himself back down as the room tried to spin.

Kenny's mouth was hanging open, entire body set aflame at the confession spilling from intoxicated lips. He knew Kyle well enough to damn well know one thing about when he drank: He couldn't tell a lie to save his goddamn life. His attempted fibs always broke halfway through in a bout of that loud, giggly laughter. But he recognized this tone. Knew it from the times Kenny had been their designated driver and stayed close to the gang, getting to be amused by their antics. This was the tone, however, that he remembered from Kyle confessing his fears of the future. How he loathed his lifelong comparison to his little brother and how it killed him to be constantly compared to a kid six years younger than himself. How he'd gone through such a deep depression no one had caught, but Stan and Ken had helped him through it without them ever knowing just by being there. It was a tone that Kenny both relished from being trusted enough to be told these things, but he hated because it dug up what Kyle held the deepest. It brought up things he was embarrassed by, things that he tried to hide from in his day-to-day life.

But here it was. Out in the open. Kyle had finally hit his breaking point, he needed to let it spill over the floor. He was pulling the elementary move, confessing with an easy fallback. But instead of claiming 'haha fooled you and you fell for it' if rejected, he could blame it on the booze. Despite Kenny knowing his inability to lie, Kyle hadn't the slightest idea he was so bad in this state, probably sat drinking the night away thinking he could get through tonight without a hitch…

Kenny paused. Or maybe it wasn't for this. Maybe Kyle wasn't drinking for the confession, he was just drinking because he hurt him so damn much. He thought back to the dates of Kyle's that he'd seen, the ones he met with polite smiles and always the chance that nothing would happen. But Kyle had witnessed exactly what had happened. Had seen that their apartment had been besmirched with the bodily fluids of another man just behind his own wall, mere feet from his own bed. Kenny gulped, in an all-out war of thrill and culpability. He knew exactly how he would have reacted had he seen Kyle in the same situation, and it seemed that the two of them were severely similar on this front.

"Ky…" he started slowly, inching towards him as Kyle continued to try to find himself some sense of stability, tears still leaking down his face. "Ky, why didn't you just say something?" he pleaded.

"A-Ally," he mumbled, looking back up and sniffling. "A-and more?"

He squinted, barely recognizing the name, "What are you talking about?"

"You and… dates," he said drooping exhaustedly. "I… I lie," he confessed, looking fearful, like he thought Kenny was going to outright explode at him. "Tell them… y-you're dating. Or sick. Or… or somethin'…" he glanced away. "I'm… s-sorry," he whimpered, clasping around himself.

Kenny blinked, trying to fit together the stilted pieces that Kyle had just handed him, brow raising. "Wait… you sabotage my dates?" Kyle nodded, cringing and shuddering and Kenny stared at him in shock. He couldn't believe this. Couldn't fucking believe that Kyle was just as dirty of a player in this game as he was. How had they fucking missed this? He gulped, scratching through his hair and taking a deep breath. "I… I do the same thing," he admitted, Kyle looking up at him with shining eyes that twisted his chest. "I tell them t'… t' treat ya like… a girl," he mumbled, sinking into himself in shame. "It's my fault guys treat you so shitty. B-but… I-I just… I hated the guys you went with," he winced. "Like… that last guy, Tony or whatever? You fucking said you slept with him and it just… drove me fuckin' crazy."

Kyle's eyes narrowed, barely comprehending the events falling before him, but enough to light yet another fire deep in his swirling stomach. Kenny bit his lip at the expression, wondering if he should just back up far enough to back out of the wall and into the next county. "Like you," he finally muttered, Kenny cocking his head. "Looked… like you," he emphasized. "Only reason I did. H-he… I… I only date blonds," he hissed, Kenny's eyes widening in realization. When he thought about it, yeah, that fucking checked out. Every date he'd disrupted for the last few years had been blond, usually around his height.

Kyle was aiming for as close as he could fucking get.

Kenny nodded, taking a shaking breath. "I only date people with… curly hair. Or green eyes," he laughed bitterly. "Hard to find redheads, though." He shook himself out of it, reminding himself he was dealing with a very intoxicated Kyle, that these confessions from his side didn't fucking count. He'd never remember them in the morning, unloading them here was taking the easy way out. He couldn't do that, not when Kyle was laying it so heavily on the line for him. He nearly jerked back at Kyle stepping in front of him, holding his arms out for balance and staring at him closely. Kenny could smell vodka leaking off him, shaking his head to himself knowing that Kyle probably downed the bottle straight just so he could function.

He felt so fucking awful.

"Really?" a quiet voice came from Kyle as he staggered. "Me? No… not them?" he gestured towards the door with both arms extended, his hands flapping about before he nearly fell back, Kenny lunging forward and grabbing around his waist.

They stared at each other before Kenny finally nodded. "Yeah. You. Not them."

Kyle blinked slowly, absorbing his words, letting them gradually click into place. Shaking hands reached up around the back of Kenny's neck for stability as he leaned in his hold, Ken just not quite able to let go of him. Not yet. Loss of inhibitions hit Kyle like a freight train all at once as the words finally took meaning, settled him right in the place he'd wanted to be for so fucking long. He yanked Kenny down with a yelp to his level, their lips clumsily smashing together.

Their eyes rolled back, Kyle's hands slipping up through his hair and keeping him planted down as their teeth obnoxiously clicked amongst one another. Kenny's arms tightened around him, pulling him up on graceless toes as they melded together, everything else dropping from the background and making way for their glowing entrance. Kyle moaned and Kenny's stomach fluttered at the sound, unable to help wondering that if just kissing got him that kind of sound, just what other noises he could get out of him with other activities. He groaned back into his lips as sloppy pecks and licks around mouths and hard palates so chaotically marched onwards, both unable and unwilling to let go of the other.

Kenny pulled against him harder, feeling Kyle trying to lead him backwards towards their rooms and finding himself overwhelmed with the reminding taste of vodka on Kyle's tongue, ripping himself back and leaving Kyle staring at him with near-devastation in his eyes and Kenny's saliva surrounding his mouth. Kenny shook his head, "No. Not like this," he said steadily, pulling Kyle's hands out of his hair and unwrapping from his waist, only lingering with a palm on his arm to keep him steady.

Kyle blinked, looking embarrassed and hurt, "I-I… you said… you want…"

"I want. Holy shit, Kyle I want so much," he swore, nodding frantically. "But not like this. You're fucking drunk."

He frowned, grabbing his hoodie and trying to pull him again. "Not-drinky Kyle… want, too," he insisted.

"Well not-drinky Kyle can tell me that himself," he declared. "I'm not doing this to you."

Kyle squinted, jumbled mind unable to follow his logic. Two wants equal a get, right? "B-but… p-please?" he tried, watching Kenny's face scrunch and his eyes close, trying to get himself to remain controlled. Kyle licked over his lips, leaning closer and nipping at his neck, hand planting against Kenny's zipper and loving the gasp breaking through Kenny's throat. He pouted as Ken tore back from him at an arm's length, shaking his head and trying to will his body back down.

"Kyle, no," he ordered. "You need to go to bed."

Kyle smiled in a sly, hungry way that Kenny was sure could have knocked him dead were he not fighting so hard to do the right thing. "Come with me," he purred, fingers clenching around his arms and trying to pull him with him, nearly falling again but Kenny keeping him up and steady.

Ken sighed, knowing this was going to be an agonizingly long night for himself as he revisited that face and tone time and again. "No," he said, moving to twist Kyle around and duck under his arm to loop across his shoulders, putting a firm hand on his waist and helping him move towards his bedroom. He made a soft noise under his breath at Kyle's nails digging into his shoulder, giving him a preview of just the kind of neediness he could get if he went along with Kyle's wishes.

No. No, Kyle deserved so much fucking better than that. And Kenny wasn't about to do something that could so fucking easily hurt him. He twisted them to work their way through Kyle's door, relying on the outside light to illuminate the clear path to his bed. Kyle nearly collapsed into it as Kenny lowered him down, making another grab for Kenny's sweatshirt to pull him in beside him. "Kyle, not now," he said. "We'll talk about it in the morning when you're sober, I fucking promise. Please let go."

Kyle stared up at him, reluctantly releasing his shirt and sinking down against his mattress. "Promise?"

"Super promise," he nodded, a glint catching his eye and glancing to his nightstand, letting out a long breath at the half-polished off bottle of vodka sitting there so damn innocently. He shook his head, reaching down and helping Kyle's mindlessly moving body under his covers, setting him up on his pillows and sighing in relief at his eyes already drooping. Good. True to form, Kyle was a bucket of energy until he sat or laid down when drinking. Then he was all but out. Kenny snatched the vodka from his stand and sighed, "Good night, Ky."

"Night…en…" he slurred out, lids falling and eyes burning with the need for rest.

Kenny sighed again, patting his arm and standing back up, making his way back out into the living room and quietly shutting Kyle's door behind him. He leaned against the frame, fighting the uncomfortableness of his lower half and holding the bottle up in front of himself with a sad frown. 'Fuck… I hope I didn't just blow my only chance…' he prayed before shaking himself out of such a mindset. No. He did the right thing. Drunk Kyle may be upset, but sober Kyle would appreciate it. If this even came up…

He frowned. It had to. Kyle had laid out the groundwork for him, he had the chance to catapult them to where they apparently both wanted to be. But… that was for the morning. Kenny groaned, hand tightening around the neck of glass. Right now, he needed to go work out his goddamn problem.

On the first day, God created light.

And Kyle was sure upon this morning that He had done so with the sole intention of fucking him over as he stirred from a heavy slumber.

Kyle groaned, head falling back into his pillow and glancing at his clock, squinting at the lime green 11:34 and scoffing at himself. He never slept in this late… He frowned, sitting up slowly and watching his sheets sliding down to reveal yesterday's clothing he'd put on after work. Kyle blinked. Why wasn't he in his pajamas? And when the fuck did he even go to bed?

He glanced up at his door, cocking his brow at it standing slightly ajar. He didn't ever leave his door open… He sighed, scratching at his hair and hissing as his fingers caught in a mess of tangles. Apparently he'd had a bit of a tossing sleep. Not surprising. He always did that after he… He paused, eyes widening. He drank. He drank a lot. But he didn't remember a damn thing except for some brief, whining conversations with Stan regarding a topic he couldn't recall. There was a temper tantrum thrown in there somewhere, he could definitely remember the feeling and sound of stomping on their floor while Stan tried to talk him down.

Why did he get fucking drunk, though? He wondered for a bit, trying to run through his day after he'd left the office, what little spots he could remember at least, before it slammed into him with a brutal force. The half-naked stranger joined by a half-naked Kenny in their kitchen, running off into his room and immediately swiping the vodka he kept under his bed to keep from Stan or Kenny's hands. A door heard closing, opening only an hour or so later while he sipped away. Stan coming into his room, wanting to know why he was drinking alone straight from the bottle…

Kyle cringed. He fucking broke last night. Just let it all come pouring out to his best friend in a barrage of sniffles and asking him time and again why he wasn't good enough, why he was so fucking stupid to think that he deserved someone like Kenny McCormick.

He remembered little reassurance, only Stan patting his back and letting him rant and rave for a while. After that, though… nothing but haze.

He hummed in thought, kicking himself out of his blankets and getting to his feet, rubbing at his aching eyes and fighting down a mild headache. As blacked out as he apparently got, he supposed he should be thankful with so little punishment being given. He slowly took a few steps, making sure his coordination was decent enough for a journey not leaning on walls and declaring himself stable enough to trek to his door. He genially pushed it open, looking to see Kenny sitting at the island eating a bowl of cereal and swiping through his phone. Kyle sighed. Last thing he wanted to deal with right now, but he needed his damn coffee.

He stepped out into the living room, Kenny's head shooting over and a large grin breaking over his face. "Well lookie here, it's Captain Smirnoff! So glad t' see ya able t' move again!" he saluted cheekily.

Kyle blinked. Kenny had seen him like that? He cringed to himself and cleared his throat. "Um… y-yeah. Guess I got… carried away last night."

"I'll say," he smirked, brows waggling in a way that baffled Kyle. He jerked his head back, "Coffee's ready for ya."

"Thanks," he breathed, making his way into the kitchen and snatching a mug from the hangers on the cabinet underside. He could feel Kenny watching him, feeling oh-so-claustrophobic as he went about pouring his cup and moving to the fridge for his creamer.

"So," Kenny started, brow quirking at Kyle flinching with the sound. "How much do ya remember, Bud?"

Kyle sighed through his nose, not exactly up for this kind of questioning. He moved to douse his coffee and watch caramel swirls waft through the liquid with a tired frown. "Um, not much to be honest. I-I don't remember going to bed or anything."

"Hmm," he mused, nodding. "You remember talkin' t' me when I came home?"

Kyle's spine locked in the slightest before he forced himself to loosen and return his creamer to its shelf. "No," he shook his head. "I don't remember you coming home at all-" he paused as he turned, mug stopping halfway to his mouth as he stared at the disarray of their living room with shirts and pillows strewn around the floor and furniture. "What the fuck happened?" he asked in confusion.

"That was my greeting from you when I walked in," he said casually with a one-shouldered shrug. "Came in n' you just started throwin' shit at me."

"Dude…" he winced, taking a sip of his drink to stall a few moments. This was bad. This was very bad. He'd have to find an excuse for being such a goddamn jackass. But what the hell could he concoct when he was only half-awake? "I'm so sorry," he finally worked out past his cup, giving up on a good excuse for the moment until he had more lead-up.

Kenny waved him off. "Don't be. Hell of an arm though," he commented. "Surprised you didn't go for baseball with me back in school. You woulda done great on the mound."

Kyle gave him a half-hearted smirk. "I can only throw when I drink. I'm not much a pitcher."

Ken grinned with a raised brow. "Yeah no. I didn't figure ya for one." Kyle looked down at him with a scowl, slapping his arm and rolling his eyes at Kenny in hysterics at his own joke.

"Anyway," Kyle drawled, "what the hell else happened?

He simmered at last and grinned, pushing his cereal away and leaning his cheek into his palm. "Don't remember nothin'?"

He shook his head, "Not at all."

"Welllllll lemme tell you, my friend," he patted the barstool next to him. Kyle cocked his brow but followed his gesture, hiding behind his mug again at Kenny scooching closer to him and missing the victorious smile on his face. "You tore right the fuck into me."

Kyle blinked, dropping his cup and looking at that confident face. "I… I did what?"

"Told me how much you hated the guy I was with. Asked me if I was into furries because he was a lil bit hairy."

He squinted. "That's not even… what a…"

"Yeah no, we covered that, even drunk you knew you were just spouting off bullshit at that point," he waved him off with a chuckle. "But man oh man did you hate the guy with a fiery passion."

Kyle cringed, considering his mug and clearing his throat. "Um… sorry. Guess I just don't like walking into strangers in their underwear in my home," he muttered, refusing to look up at Kenny nodding along and just hoping that was a convincing enough reason for him to be such a fucking jackass. He knew himself well enough to know his rants didn't goddamn stop when he got like that, had gotten him into plenty of trouble in the past. Woke up often enough with a busted nose from getting a little too personal with someone who pissed him off.

"Don't be sorry, he was a piece of shit anyway," he shrugged, patting his back and feeling him tensing in the slightest. "But uh, you didn't stop there."

Kyle blinked, still not looking at him for fear he could break apart at that piercing eye color and shatter across the floor. "I… I didn't?"

"Noooope," he smirked. "Ya told me I don't wash dishes or put away my socks. Somethin' bout how I make yer life difficult… Because then you proceeded to confess your undying attraction for me and how you sabotage my dates all the time."

Kyle went rigid, eyes locked across the room and mouth falling agape. Oh no. Oh no. He couldn't seem to make his lungs work, the anticipation from Kenny for his response was damn near deadly. Kenny watched him carefully, a smile creeping up his lips. Good. Kyle wasn't talking out of his ass last night, he meant every goddamn word. Amazing.

Kyle trembled, face beyond burning as he finally gathered the courage to look at Kenny's amused expression, wanting to drop through the fucking floor and just suffocate. His jaw fumbled, unable to make a sound and opting to do the adult thing.

He practically slammed his mug on the island, twisting and leaping out of his seat and making a break for the door. He yelped as arms caught him before he so much as reached the damn sofa. "Ky, Ky, stop," Kenny said firmly. "We gotta talk about this."

"Let me jump out the window," he begged under his breath, sound a near impossibility as he struggled to get himself out of Kenny's grip and out of this life in its entirety. He couldn't believe himself. Fucking years of keeping it so fucking tightly wrapped up and this was how it all culminated? A drunken, unremembered confession that was probably nothing more than him slurring like a fucking idiot?

"No," Kenny shook his head, gripping his arm and tearing him around to face him, watching the fear and humiliation ravaging Kyle's expression. He could read it all in an instant: Kyle wondering if he was going to have to move, if he was about to face the worst kind of rejection imaginable. He put his hands on his shoulders to keep him from running again, Kyle looking like a cornered fox facing the hound. He gulped, prepping himself as he had been all morning. "All right. One question, and I'll let you go goddamn jump or whatever depending on how the answer goes… Did you mean it?" he demanded.

Kyle's mouth quavered, "I-I… I-I…" he couldn't stop shaking, even when so directly asked he couldn't even work himself through it. This was too much. Every ridiculous possibility ran through his head from Kenny just gently letting him down to being thrown against the wall and beaten into paste in absolute disgust.

"Nod or something," Kenny pleaded. "Yes or no?!"

Kyle took a shaking breath, barely able to bob his head enough for a shy, subtle yes.

"Oh, thank god," Kenny gushed, pulling him forward and smashing their lips together once again. Kyle made a sound of shock, body twisting a bit with fingers crawling up into his tousled curls. He blinked, overwhelmed with the taste of Fruity Pebbles and the smell of just a touch too much aftershave. A tongue prodded at his lips and he pulled back in surprise, both of them panting and staring at each other, Kenny's eyes glossing over with worry that he'd already fucked this right up.

"You… You…" Kyle stammered. "I don't-"

"I sabotage your dates, too!" he blurted, Kyle balking back and blinking, waiting for elaboration. "I… I'm why guys treat you like a fuckin' flower. Because I know you'd hate that so I tell 'em all that it's what you like so you don't… you know… fall for one of 'em…" his shoulders dropped, Kyle still stuck in complete bewilderment and letting foreign, delicious sensations dance along his lips.

Kyle narrowed his eyes at the admittance, timeline seeming ridiculously skewed. "They've been… doing that since…"

"High school," he finished exhaustedly. "Since fucking high school, Ky." Kyle's jaw dropped in the slightest, Kenny resisting every urge to delve his tongue right on in to caramel goodness once more. "It was so shitty of me, and I'm so sorry," he insisted.

He nodded softly, "I'm sorry, too," he whispered, wincing and still reeling at how this had turned out for him. How the living hell did he miss this? But his mind was flooding with endorphins, feeling light as air with Kenny holding him so damn possessively. It was everything he'd ever wanted right in front of him, waiting for him and him alone.

Kenny gulped at his lengthy pause, "Listen, if you want, we can… think about this before we do anythin'-" he stopped with another viciously greedy push against his mouth, a tongue diving right in through his teeth. He moaned with relief, both wrapping each other up through hair and waists, Kyle balancing on his toes and Kenny keeping him pulled up. Kenny grinned, "You know," he murmured, pecking at his mouth and licking over his hard palate. "You're handsy when you drink."

Kyle smirked, biting softly on Kenny's bottom lip, body alit with joy and liberation. "You should see me when I'm sober."

"If that's an offer I'm not refusin'," he purred, a hand sliding down and cupping around his ass, relishing in the shaking, breathy moan vibrating against his tongue. "Had t' refuse last night. That was hard enough."

Kyle paused, pulling back in the slightest and looking up at him with a tilted head. "You refused?" he repeated, not sure if he was on the same page of meaning.

He shrugged, brushing red bangs back off his face. "You were drunk, Man. I wasn't about t' do that to ya."

He stared at him for a few moments, Kenny watching the wheels turning in his head before an appreciative smile crossed over a lightly freckled face. Kyle pressed back into him with a happy kiss, moving his head down and pecking along his jawline. "Guess I need to thank you for taking such good care of me," he dropped back into that grating tone that had Kenny's enticement all throughout the damn night.

"Well, let's take care of each other," he grinned, nipping at his ear and feeling his breath stagger with sensitivity. Kyle nodded, moving them backwards and leading him into his room, their breakfast abandoned and Kenny kicking the door shut behind them, neither willing to break in the slightest from the other's voracious grasp.

His Saturday brunches with Wendy, Bebe, and Token were goddamn exhausting sometimes. Nothing but the girls chatting about this and that while he and Token just wanted to down mimosas and Bloody Marys until their damn eyes floated out.

Stan stepped into the apartment, hands raising above his head as he stretched and sighing at a pop of his spine. He glanced to the floor as he shut the door, shaking his head at the mess still left. He didn't get a call from either of them screaming that they'd fucked up and killed the other one, so that was at least something.

He paused, hearing a loud thunk from the other side of the room and shooting his head towards it. He squinted, hearing a barrage of other indiscernible noises rising and falling. "The fuck?" he murmured, slowly making his way towards the seeming source outside of Kyle's door. He raised his brow, leaning towards it and turning with his ear at the door.

"Fuck… fuck," he could hear being whimpered out, his chest twisting in concern. Kyle sounded fucking hurt or strained or something.

He put his hand on the knob, barely beginning to twist before another grunting noise came into the picture, Stan blinking at the sound of springs beginning to move in a steady, quick pace. "Like that?" Kenny's voice purred through a set of heavy pants and the sound of an open palm hitting bare skin with an accompanying yelping moan, Stan's throat filling with bile all at once at Kyle's increasing decibels. He backed away from the door like it'd caught fire, wondering if there was any amount of therapy that could erase the trauma of hearing your best friends banging.

He stood back up straight, eye twitching at the noises echoing so clearly through the thin walls, hearing every meeting of skin and every wet kiss alongside Kyle's vocal chords.

With a face forced into an expression immovable as stone, Stan turned on his heel and grabbed his phone from his pocket as he made way back out the door. He'd witnessed enough with this minimal display, all debts throughout his life had been paid in full with this level of suffering. Wendy had to let him move in now. She just had to.