"And if I'm not for you then I will know when I am talking to you,

If doubt is breaking through your brow, I will know,

There's nothing I can do, I'm not for you."

Good Old War - I'm Not For You

"You sure about this?" Stan had asked as he pressed each of his hands into the mattress on either side of Kyle. He leaned his forehead against the boy's below him, never breaking eye contact.

Kyle nodded tentatively as his own hands rose up and hooked over Stan's broad shoulders. He bit his lip shyly and opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. Stan furrowed his brows in question and Kyle decided to give another attempt at speaking.

"I'm sure," he answered and leaned up to give his best friend a chaste kiss on the lips. Stan went rigid at the sudden contact, pulling away to roll his shoulders out of nervousness. Kyle took these actions with a grain of salt, knowing Stan was so unresponsive only because this would be their first time and he was being so technical about it, not wanting to mess it up. "Just... swear nothing will change between us."

Stan cracked an assuring smile. "Of course, dude. Super best friends forever."

With an encouraging and bubbly laugh from the redhead below him, he let his weight shift a bit so that he was barely hovering above Kyle. He nudged Kyle's legs open a bit wider and let himself fall into place between them. Taking a second to look up from positioning himself, he saw Kyle watching anxiously.

"Go slow at first, alright?"

"I'll be as gentle as possible," he dipped down and placed a light kiss on Kyle's cheek. He knew of Kyle's feelings for him, and even though they weren't reciprocated in the exact same way, he wanted to make sure that his best friend's first time would at least be special. "I promise."

Kyle gripped the steering wheel as he came to a stoplight. The drive to his old place of residence was quiet and uncomfortable... well, at least for him it was. Kenny seemed to be caught up in his own incessant humming as he watched other cars and buildings as they passed.

It was late in the day but he didn't want to go alone and Kenny didn't end up getting home from work until a little past five o'clock. This struck an odd chord in Kyle since he was used to the simple routine Kenny had set over the week: The blonde would wake up as the sun began to rise at six, go throughout his morning duties, and then be out and on his way to work by seven. Kyle would eventually wake up himself thirty minutes later to find breakfast ready on the table, his insulin bottle and a fresh syringe laid out next to it. There'd usually be an accompanied Post-It note with something sarcastic scribbled out along the lines of "Try not to die," and "Don't forget to stab yourself in the stomach or something."

Later, he'd come home around three or four and find Kenny somewhere around the apartment. Kyle would always thank him for breakfast, but neither of them would mention a thing about the insulin or the notes, except for the one time that Kyle forgot to put the bottle back in the fridge before leaving for the hospital, only to come home and be scolded as if he'd done something horrible. He tried to tell Kenny that it wasn't even a full 24-hours and that the insulin was fine since the apartment was freezing cold anyways but Kenny just refused to listen, complained some more, and eventually went back to sucking on those stupid sunflower seeds while watching NASCAR.

When he asked about what kept him at work so late, Kenny told him he had some problems with the excavator and had to stay late to fix it. Kyle took his excuse at face value until he noticed long, deep red marks running down the taller boy's back when he took off his shirt to jump in the shower. Boldly, he had raised a brow and asked if that was from the excavator, too. Kenny had the audacity to say, "Actually, yeah," and gave Kyle a condensed version of the Mike is an Asshole story, replacing the nail gun with an excavator, as he craned his neck to check himself out in the mirror. He followed up the tale with an inquiry to have Dr. Broflovski clean him up before it got infected or something, to which Kyle begrudgingly agreed to. He wanted to call Kenny out on his bullshit but he said nothing else after that, feeling a tinge of betrayal and bitterness for the man he'd grown to trust quite a bit over the past seven days.

Kyle grabbed at the unopened can of Dr. Pepper he'd brought along for the trip and popped the top, taking a long sip while he waited for the light to turn green. When he went to put it back in the cupholder, he was met with a hard glare from a pair of light blue eyes.

"What?"

"That's your second soda in the past hour," Kenny answered as he went to take the can hostage. "That's enough."

Kyle gave a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes, moving the can out of reach. "So what, I'm thirsty."

"Drink something diet, then. Or water. Water is even better."

"Like you care!" Kyle found himself almost shouting, his voice rising dangerously higher than it needed to be for the currently occupied space. He was already upset with Kenny for outright lying to him on the spot earlier, and now he had the nerve to act like he cared and wanted to watch out for Kyle's wellbeing. "You don't care about anything—you're just a liar!"

Kenny's brows knitted together in confusion, his upset expression faltering. "What are you talking about, of course I care about you."

"Is that what you told her, too?" The words were rolling off of his tongue without a second thought, bringing the idea of Bebe to mind. He was still a little sore over that. "Or was it him?"

"Alright, I think there must be some sort of misunderstanding here, because I really don't know what's going on ri—"

"Mike lifted the excavator bucket thing whatever when you weren't looking and it scratched your back, right," Kyle mocked heatedly. "What's there to misunderstand about that?"

Kenny blinked and turned completely in his seat to face the angered redhead. "You think I lied about that happening?"

"Well it's not exactly a likely story, now is it?"

"Of course it's not likely, but when is anything likely that ever happens to me? You know how unlucky I am!" Kenny reasoned, emphasising his words with hand gestures. Kyle just shrugged. "Besides, how could I possibly lie when you were the one cleaning the friggin' embedded dirt out of those marks?"

They came to another stoplight. Kyle wasn't one to relent so easily. "You could have thrown yourself into the dirt after sex to make it seem like you're telling the truth."

"The fact that you even went that far as to imagine I'd do something like that hurts, Ky."

Complete silence fell over them as they continued their drive. Kenny had turned back to staring out the window, not saying another word to counter Kyle's accusations while the other man sat rigid in the driver's seat, silently contemplating whether or not he was being too harsh. He tried to recall cleaning out any dirt from Kenny's back wounds earlier but he was so irritated at the time that he was barely paying enough attention to even properly fix his friend up.

He decided he might have been out of line when he stole a sideways glance over at the blonde, who had his head propped on a fist while he looked on carelessly. It caused a pang of guilt to rise up in Kyle's chest.

"Just because I don't have the best track record doesn't mean I'm not trustworthy. Name one thing I've ever lied to you about," Kenny finally said, his rhetorical question so quiet that it was barely audible over the sound of traffic. "You can't because I've never lied to you, Kyle, and I never would."

"I'm sorry," Kyle apologized with a heavy sigh. Kenny looked over to meet his gaze. "I know you're not a liar, but I'm just... that was stupid of me, okay? I promise I'll start believing you. I know you wouldn't do something to hurt me on purpose."

Kenny nodded and gave a small smile in acceptance to Kyle's apology. "And for the record, I do care."

"I know."

"So no more soda today, alright?" Kenny asked while nodding to the half-full can between them. Kyle answered with a scoff. He wanted to tell Kenny that he'd seriously be just fine, that sometimes it was necessary for him to have more sugar to balance out his insulin intake, but he decided to save that conversation for another time later on when he could properly teach Kenny what's okay and what's not okay.

"Alright," the redhead mumbled as they turned a corner. Without warning, Kenny took the can and tossed it out the window. Kyle groaned and added 'Talk to Kenny About How Littering is Illegal' to the list of necessary conversations they needed to have. "What's gotten into you lately?"

Kenny perked a brow. "What do you mean?"

"You've been... I dunno. Like, really... sweet and considerate," Kyle answered thoughtfully. "Ever since the wedding you've been like that. I don't think I've seen you make an actual pass at me or anyone else once. Are you alright?"

Kenny shrugged. "There's a time and place for everything. I can behave myself, believe it or not. Figured now wasn't exactly the right time to be screwing around so much."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Nothing, I was just worried that you had changed completely is all," Kyle said. He didn't want to admit it, but, "I sort of miss the old Kenny. He was disgusting and raunchy, sure, but he was amusing. He made me laugh."

Kenny grinned cheekily at the confession. "Really, now?" he asked while scooting over towards Kyle as close as he could get with the cupholders and gearshift between them. "Here I was, all this time thinking that you hated me flirting with you."

Kyle laughed, growing a bit nervous at Kenny's intrusion of his personal space. "I didn't hate it, I just—"

"How about some road head, then?" Kenny asked with a devilish smirk as he dipped a hand down to palm the redhead's clothed thigh. "Besides, I've always wanted to know if the carpets matched the drapes."

"Don't do that!" Kyle scolded while jerking his leg away. Kenny just laughed and returned back to the confines of his seat. "I changed my mind, I like the new Kenny better."

"When I finally get into those pants of yours, it won't matter which Kenny I am," the blonde teased with a sly smile. "You'll be screaming my name either way."

"Alright, that's enough." Kyle said while reaching to turn the radio on.

"What's the biggest you've ever had?"

"Kenny," he groaned, growing irate.

"Oh, I like the way you say my name."

"SHUT UP."

The rest of the ride was silent, save for the sound of Kenny's snickering and the tops hits of today blasting through the stereo at a volume not high enough to drown the blonde out.

Stan was shirtless when they pulled up to the front of the house, head ducked beneath the hood of his trusty old pickup truck. When he heard the sound of two doors opening and slamming shut he craned his neck to get a peek at who had arrived from under his arm.

Kyle took large strides up the driveway, hurrying to get to the front porch without gaining the attention of the raven haired man while Kenny attempted to catch up from his place outside the passenger side door. "Hey, wait up!" he shouted as he closed in on the redhead. He clasped a hand on Kyle's shoulder to keep him from going any further without him. "What are you in such a rush for?"

"I just want to get my books."

"Well it's not like they're gonna grow legs and run awa—"

"Kyle?"

Both of them turned around to be greeted with the sight of a curious Stan, his shirt stained with oil and dark streaks of dirt spread across his forehead and cheeks. Kyle resisted the urge to lean forward and wipe it off.

"Where have you been? What're you doing here, Kenny?"

"My books are under the desk in my room. It's the second one on the left upstairs," Kyle said while turning to Kenny. "Can you go get them for me?"

"But—"

"Please?"

Kenny went to protest but ended up shutting his mouth when the urgency of Kyle's stare sunk in. He look from Kyle, to the dark haired man standing behind him protectively, and then back to the redhead once more. With a defeated sigh he turned around, quickly made his way up the porch steps and began to navigate his way to Kyle's old bedroom. When Kenny was out of sight, Stan was the first to break the silence with a rehashed version of his earlier question.

"What are you doing here with him?"

"I live with him, Stan. We're just here to pick up a couple things that I forgot—"

"You moved in with him while I was gone?" Stan asked. "Is that why your room seemed sort of empty? What the hell did I miss?"

"You didn't miss anything. I've just decided that I'm done with these stupid little games, is all," Kyle answered as calmly as possible while going to leave and join up with the blonde. "Ken helped me realize a few things, and he's sort of helping me out."

Stan's hand shot out, grasping Kyle's upper arm tight enough to keep him from moving. He pulled the smaller man back and turned him around forcefully, giving the redhead a skeptical look. "What are you talking about, what games? And what do you mean 'sort of helping you out'?" he spat. "You've been avoiding my texts all week and I come home to hear that you've moved out without an explanation..." His brows furrowed in confusion as he remembered something. "Speaking of texts, what the hell was up with the one from yesterday?"

Kyle pursed his lips, not wanting to deal with this. Suddenly, he was regretting letting Kenny leave him alone with Stan to go off and retrieve his stuff. He had no idea what Stan was referring to either since he'd lost his phone somewhere in the apartment yesterday.

Kyle tugged his arm from Stan's grasp and rubbed at the area where he was sure bruises would form later. It wasn't as if Stan's hold on him was that tight, but he bruised easily due to his diabetes. "I don't know what you're talking about and I don't owe you anything."

"I didn't mean to hurt you, shit," Stan said while reaching out for Kyle's arm, but Kyle stepped back. "Look, I just want to know what all this is about, okay? I mean, you just showed up with Kenny of all people to pick up your stuff and—I don't want you to move out. I'll miss you too much."

"Yeah, right."

"Seriously! You're my Super Best Friend, dude!"

"Well Super Best Friends don't screw around with each other's emotions like you do!"

They both fell silent for a few seconds, burning holes into each other's eyes with their own. Stan's gaze was shocked and apologetic while Kyle's was downright pissed, his face a bright red to accent his current feelings of rage. Neither of them were aware of the eavesdropping blonde who had his head stuck out Kyle's bedroom window, listening to them. He had found the books with ease and wanted to get back to Kyle's side as soon as possible, but decided to give them a moment when he caught a piece of their conversation. He figured that perhaps Kyle would finally tell Stan he was through with him, and Kenny didn't want to interrupt that.

"Is this about... you know," Stan said sheepishly while trying to reach for his friend once more, but Kyle wouldn't allow it. "I thought we got over that. I thought what we were doing was okay now?"

"What made you think it was okay? It was never okay, Stan!" Kyle shouted, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. He wouldn't cry in front of Stan though. Not then. "There was never a point during whatever this is where I was fine, and it's—I couldn't take it anymore. Not after you actually went through with marrying Wendy,"

"Well I love her, Kyle."

"And I love you," Kyle swallowed the knot in his throat. "But that doesn't mean anything I guess."

Stan's shoulders dropped. "Kyle..."

"And you know what? That's fine. Ken's showing me that I don't need you, Stan," Kyle continued, feeling a little more confident in himself. "Do I want you? Of course I do, more than anything. Fuck, I might want you for the rest of my life, but... but I don't need anyone; especially not you."

There was another long pause between the two of them, Kyle standing a little taller while Stan cleared his throat incessantly while refusing to look Kyle in the eyes. Kenny continued to watch from above, wondering when he should throw himself into the mix, but decided it wouldn't hurt to wait another minute or two. Then Stan spoke up, barely audible but loud enough for only Kyle to hear:

"Nice to know that one week with Kenny fucking McCormick can turn you into a total backstabbing slut, Kyle."

Kyle's face twisted up into a look of pure confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I leave for one fucking week and you run off with Kenny," Stan said a little louder this time, anger adding a bite to his words. "What, I'm not enough for you? You need Kenny's dick, too?"

"Are you fucking serious, Stan," Kyle breathed while pressing his palms flat against his face, trying his damned hardest not to punch Stan in the nose for being so stupid. Not once had he slept with the blonde who was still perched above him; he'd barely just gotten completely comfortable with kissing the guy. "This is ridiculous."

"Well maybe if you weren't riding his fucking dick we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"I'm not fucking him!"

"Bullshit!"

"JESUS CHRIST, I'M DONE," Kyle screamed while pushing past the raven-haired man and stomping towards his dark-blue Explorer. Stan didn't go to make a move, watching stone-faced as his presumably ex-best friend stepped into the vehicle that seemed just a little too big for him. Kenny, on the other hand, was attempting to get the hell out of the house as fast as he possibly could. The blonde eventually emerged, bounding down the porch stairs as he half-chased after the vehicle that was long gone while waving his free arm in the air and shouting after it. He stopped at the bottom of the driveway once he noticed that it would do no good.

"This is all your fault," he heard someone growl from behind him. He turned around just in time to see Stan tackle him to the ground and raise a fist for a punch that would never come; Kenny had grabbed both of Stan's hands and forced them away, turning the tables and headbutted him instead.

Stan yelped and tugged one of his hands free to rub at his forehead before decking Kenny in the cheek, causing him to shout a loud "hey!" from the unexpected contact.

"You," Stan managed to grunt through gritted teeth as he tried for another punch but was denied. "You've been sleeping with him—I'm going to kill you!"

"What's going on?" Wendy's voice rang out, cutting through the sound of the boys' scuffling. Stan immediately jumped up and away from the fallen blonde as if he were made of hot lava. "Were you two just fighting?"

"What? No," Stan attempted to laugh but it came out nervous and garbled. He palmed the back of his neck anxiously as Kenny stood up and dusted himself off, glaring daggers at the man in front of him. Both knew not to make any sudden lunges for each other's throat or else Wendy would be asking questions that neither of them were prepared to answer. "We were just wrestling; having some bro time. Don't worry about us. You can go back to doing, uh, whatever."

Wendy looked between the both of them, knowing good and well that something wasn't right. Still, she nodded and ducked back into the house. Once a few seconds passed and Stan was sure she wasn't going to pop her head back out the door again, he lurched forward and grabbed at Kenny, bared teeth knitted brows. Kenny returned the look.

"I don't know what you're up to, but it's not gonna work," Stan snarled with his fist tangled in the collar of Kenny's shirt. "Kyle's not going to go for someone who doesn't even have all of his teeth."

Kenny explored his own mouth with his tongue for a moment, genuinely confused. Besides hating dental pain, he could never afford to go to the dentist so he made sure to always keep his teeth in the best shape that he possibly could on his own. "I have all of my teeth; what the hell are you talking about?"

Stan just stared.

"Wait—was that some sort of shitty redneck joke, because that wasn't funny at all. Jesus, dude, you suck at this," Kenny forced a laugh and pushed Stan away, making him stumble backwards a bit. "At least Cartman knew how to make me laugh."

"Like I said—"

"No, like I said," Kenny interrupted, referring to the text message he'd sent Stan the night before. "You leave him alone. He's had to deal with enough of your bullshit for ten lifetimes and I'll be damned if I let you walk all over him anymore." He straightened out his shirt, picked up the medical books that were scattered near his feet, and turned towards the direction that Kyle had driven off in minutes prior. Stan's lips were in a tight line as he watched Kenny look over his shoulder at the raven with a smug smirk, only to add, "And if you want to fight, I'd be more than happy to. Be warned, though; I toss around fifty-pound bags of cement for a living like it's nobody's business and I'm not above breaking your neck at this point in time."

With that, he was gone, leaving Stan to shout incessant lines of insults until the blonde turned the corner and was out of sight.

Kyle slammed the door shut and stalked off into the kitchen, all while grumbling under his breath. Who did Stan think he is, telling Kyle what he can and cannot do? He'd lost that right when he put a ring on Wendy's finger. Hell, he never had the right to begin with; nobody did!

Kyle didn't have to listen to anyone but himself, and at that moment he told himself that he needed a drink. Or ten.

I know there's alcohol somewhere around here. It's Kenny, for fucks sake, Kyle thought as he tore through the cupboards. For a while he thought that he actually wouldn't find any, until he came across a single unopened bottle of apple-flavored Vodka under the sink. He didn't even give a single thought as to how that was an odd place to keep liquor before uncapping the bottle and taking the biggest gulp he could without a shot glass, ignoring the burning at the back of his throat.

Stan's such a fucking hypocritical asshole. I hope he burns in Hell.

He entertained the idea of searching for a shot glass, but decided against it as he took another large sip; drinking from the bottle was working just fine.

I don't need him. I've got Kenny now. Kenny's a billion times better than—

"Shit!" Kyle whispered while smacking a palm to his head, remembering that he'd forgotten Kenny back at the house. He knew he was forgetting something. "I can't drive now. Fuck. I hope he's not mad," he thought out loud while taking one more large swig. Once he decided that 1/4th of the bottle was more than enough for him, who was already a lightweight to begin with, he screwed the cap back on and left it on the table next to one of Kenny's unfinished model houses. He made a mental note to bring up the idea of finishing that degree to Kenny sometime soon.

Maybe he'd want some when he gets back. I wouldn't mind drinking more with him if so. Besides, who knows what'll happen if we're both drunk. It's been awhile since...

He shook his head and trailed off on that thought; the alcohol was already beginning to sink in and the last thing he wanted to do was prove Stan right at the time, even if Stan would never find out.

With a sigh, he left for the living room to sit and watch TV until the liquor really began make an impact on him. Lord knew he needed to relax, but part of him hoped he'd be sobered up enough by the time Kenny got home so that he wouldn't do anything stupid.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't be the case.

An hour and a half later, Kenny hobbled into the apartment out of breath and sweating profusely. "I don't know if you're aware, but you totally left me." He glanced over at his roommate who was laughing along to some reality show on television and rolled his eyes. "What are you watching that's so funny?"

"Ken?" Kyle craned his neck to get a look at the blonde who was standing in front of the door with an armful of books. The smile that he was currently donning grew wider and he pushed himself up off the couch, ran over to the other and threw himself forcefully into Kenny's arms, causing Kenny's to let the books drop to the floor with a thud. "I missed you so much!"

The wind was knocked out of Kenny for a second but he couldn't help but laugh breathlessly along with the redhead. Then he remembered who he was dealing with and what had happened almost two hours earlier, so he pulled away from the shorter man and lifted a brow in confusion. "Alright, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, I just missed you!" Kyle giggled while trying to worm his way back into Kenny's embrace. The scent of apple-flavored liquor on his breath was nothing that could go unnoticed, though. "Can't I miss my best friend sometimes?"

"You've been drinking," Kenny deduced while holding Kyle at arms length. The redhead let out a sort of frustrated whine and pushed himself back against Kenny's chest with a forceful jolt forward. "You're drunk. Stop that."

"I'm not drunk, I just had a little bit to drink," Kyle defended himself as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of Kenny's neck, making the blonde shudder a bit. "It's just a buzz; I know my limits. If you want, the rest of the alcohol is in the kitchen... oh, how about we take some shots? We haven't done that since college."

Kenny wanted to tell him no, that they shouldn't take shots because Kyle was already acting sort of ditzy with just a buzz and he wasn't sure getting full-blown shitfaced after what had just happened at Stan's would be a good idea, but Kyle's hot breath on his neck was stirring an inopportune warmth in the depths of his gut, making it a bit hard to deny Kyle what he wanted.

"Just a couple," Kenny said as he felt something warm and wet trace the underside of his jaw. He screwed his eyes shut and bit back a moan; this was the last thing either of them needed at that moment. "Kyle, stop that, you don't know what you're d—"

"I have a better idea," Kyle purred while pulling away from the blonde. He began tugging at the zipper of Kenny's parka, disposing of it off to the side somewhere once it was undone. Despite Kenny's stuttering for him to 'knock it off', his fingers found themselves tangled up in Kenny's shirt collar, pulling him down to shut him up with a hard kiss.

Kenny's head was reeling the second their lips met, unsure whether or not he should rip himself away from the persistent redhead or if he should just enjoy the moment. Morale almost won over when he managed to break away for a breath of air, but once their eyes locked, that was it; he couldn't play nice anymore.

Kenny found himself pushing Kyle against the arm of the couch, his fingers tangled in Kyle's hair as their tongues battled for dominance in a heated kiss. Kyle's own fingers were pulling at the blonde's belt, hellbent on getting it undone. Kenny tried to arch his hips away from Kyle's grasp, thinking he could at least keep the possible impending damage down to a minimum, but it proved futile. Soon enough, his jeans were barely hanging from his thighs and his erection was pressed up against Kyle's clothed one.

While Kenny was silently congratulating himself for picking the perfect day to go commando as he began working on unbuttoning Kyle's pants, Kyle had a plethora of things running through his head: He knew he shouldn't have been doing this. He was more than well aware of how he got with alcohol in his system—touchy and clingy and sexual—but he also knew it'd help him calm down, and now he wanted this. He wanted Kenny around him, on him, in him. He wasn't Stan, and for some reason that made him happy. It made him feel as if he was taking a big leap forward, like Kenny could help cleanse Kyle in a way.

On the other hand, it made Kyle sad. He'd meant what he said at the house about not needing him. There'd be no more tossing jokes back and forth while sitting around and playing video games, no more stupid Terrance and Phillip marathons, and no more nights spent with Stan in secret. He wouldn't get to hear Stan say his name in that way ever again, and, Jesus Christ, he could never run his hands over Stan's perfectly chiseled chest again.

For a second, he couldn't help but imagine that Stan was the one whose hand was palming him through his boxers and trailing sloppy kisses all along his neck.

"Mmm, Stan," Kyle moaned as he bucked his boxer-clad hips into Kenny. The blonde was immediately torn out of his thoughts and he shoved Kyle back against the couch, causing him to stumble due to his pants being bunched up around his thighs. It took him a second to process what had just happened while he stood there, staring at Kyle incredulously with his mouth agape.

"Did you just call me... what the fuck," Kenny breathed while running a hand through his messy blonde hair. He didn't know whether to be hurt, worried, or down right pissed off. "Is that who you think about when you kiss me, Kyle? That's who you pretend I am?" He began to tug his jeans back up around his waist and buckled his belt. "If we'd of just gone through with—with this, Stan is who you'd of been imagining?"

He waited as patiently as he could for Kyle to say something, but the redhead offered nothing in return. Instead, his eyes wandered from Kenny's to the floor in shame. He didn't mean to say Stan's name out loud, but he did, and now here he was.

"Newsflash: I'm not some fucking imitation of Stan, alright?" Kenny all but screamed at the man standing across from him when he didn't receive an answer. "Unlike that fucking asshole, I actually care about you, Kyle—I fucking love you!"

The most uncomfortable silence of their lives fell over them in that moment, the both of them just staring at each other wide-eyed and freaked out. Before Kyle could even attempt to ask Kenny what he was talking about, Kenny had booked it for the balcony, cursing under his breath along the way.

He stepped outside and shakily reached for the pack of cigarettes he kept on the small plastic table and shook one out. He lit it up and took a drag. He didn't want to say what he did, but he couldn't hold it back any longer, no after that.

After another hit, he remembered that Kyle didn't want him smoking and flicked the cigarette over the edge, which was soon followed up by the whole pack. He sneered at them on their journey to the pavement below.

Fuck those cigarettes.

Fuck everything.

"I'm proud of you."

He whipped his head around to find Kyle a few feet behind him, standing in the doorway. Kenny scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. "What the fuck ever."

Kyle sighed and took a seat in one of the vacant lawn chairs and silently watched Kenny for a few minutes as he leaned over the wrought iron railing, looking as if he were trying to estimate how far he'd fall if he decided to jump over it. Kyle hoped that wasn't the case.

"What you said in there," Kyle began slowly, "Did you... did you mean it?"

Kenny stopped messing around with the rail and looked over at the inquiring redhead. His own impassive expression faltered and he nodded his head, taking a seat in the other lawn chair across from Kyle.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"But... how?"

"What do you mean 'how'?" Kenny asked hotly, beginning to grow annoyed again. "I'm not going to answer something with such an obvious answer."

Kyle decided not to press further even though he honestly had no idea what was so obvious about it and instead settled on another question:

"How long have you... you know. Liked me?"

Kenny's demeanor softened. "I love you."

Kyle found himself scratching behind his ear nervously. "Oh. Um, well how long?"

"I don't know," Kenny sighed and looked up at the stars. "Since high school, I guess."

"Since—Kenny, what?"

"I said high school," he repeated. He turned his focus back to the amused redhead and gave him a wry smile. "It was after you started having a thing for Stan... funny how I'm always late, huh." he chuckled. "I always thought that maybe if I'd of just noticed you a little sooner then I'd of been the one you'd be with and not out chasing Mr. Perfect 'I-Have-a-White-Picket-Fence-and-a-Dog' Stan Marsh. But whatever. I guess it's what I deserve."

"No, that isn't what you deserve, Ken," Kyle assured him hesitantly. "You're so amazing, and—and I don't want you to ever think you're not good enough. It's just that I... I don't... I'm sorry."

"I know I'm good enough," Kenny snorted with a roll of his eyes. "You don't have to tell me twice. I've actually got you to thank for that; you were the reason I made it through high school and most of college. You pushed me to be better, to be good enough for you." He looked down. "But it doesn't really matter what I am if I'm not what you want."

Kyle frowned, putting two and two together. "Is this the reason you were so gung ho about helping me forget about Stan? Because you thought... because you thought I'd end up liking you?"

Kenny didn't answer.

"I don't like you like that, Kenny."

"I know."

"I don't... I don't think I ever could."

"I know."

It was beginning to sound like an exact replica of the conversation that he had in the Harbuck's coffee shop when Stan told him that they needed to quit fooling around. He'd always wonder what it'd of been like if he were on the other side of that table and now he knew. It wasn't as gratifying as he thought it'd be; he actually felt pretty horrible.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," he said, going to stand up. "This whole thing is a stupid idea. I can't just sit here and use you for my own benefit when you have actual feelings for me, Ken. Let's just call this quits, alright?"

"No. No, don't—look, just listen to me for a second," Kenny jumped from his seat, worried that Kyle was about to leave. Kyle waited for Kenny to continue but he just stood there, eyes locked with the redhead with a contemplative look on his face. Eventually he closed his eyes, let out a sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Let's... keep doing this. Let me still help you."

Kyle furrowed his brows. "What? Why?"

"I know it sounds crazy but I don't want to give this up. Even if it's not real," he answered quietly, opening his eyes. He immediately regretted doing so when he felt tears begin to threaten him. He blinked them away. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this, it's not even funny, Kyle. And now I have a chance—I mean, I know it's not a chance, but it's something, and at this point I'll take what I can get." He forced a smile. "That's how much I love you, Ky—enough to seriously beg for scraps of your affection like some sort of stray dog. I don't ask for a lot, so just... at least give me this."

Kyle just stared at him dolefully. He sort of felt as if he were right back at square one with Kenny convincing him to trust the blonde and let him help with getting over Stan, except this time there was a lot more on the line; not only his own feelings, but now Kenny's.

"Kenny, I can't do that. Not when I know I'll be consciously hurting you."

Kenny shook his head, his eyes bright and glazed over. "But you won't be hurting me. Just trust me, alright? Please," He reached forward and grabbed at the shorter man's wrists. "We'll both get what we want. You'll get over Stan, and I'll get... this."

Knowing that Kenny wouldn't take no for an answer, Kyle frowned. "Fine," he caved. "But if things get too hard for you to handle, I want you to tell me so we can stop this. I really don't want to hurt you, Ken. You're the best thing I've got going for me right now." He instantly regretted that last part, hating the fact that he was stringing Kenny along like this but Kenny's feelings were dancing on the other end of the emotional spectrum, causing him to grin stupidly as a sort of comforting warmth filled his chest.

"Yeah, okay," Kenny agreed and began to make his way into the apartment, dragging Kyle along with him. "It's been a long day so maybe we should turn in early. I'll get dinner started, alright? Is uh... are burgers alright? They're quick and easy."

Kyle could only nod in response.

The rest of the night was eerily quiet with Kyle on edge as Kenny attempted to fill the newly created awkward void between them with mindless chatter, but it didn't work. Kenny had sat across from Kyle as they ate, trying to spark a conversation about Word of Warcraft that didn't go anywhere. He'd even suggested a quick movie before bed, only to end up stealing curious glances at the redhead next to him before being caught and looking away. He wanted so badly to know what line he'd crossed with the added information of his feelings for the Jew and what Kyle was thinking. It didn't help that Kyle said all of six words though, blank-faced and rigid the whole time.

Bedtime was no different, though Kenny did get a little bold and managed to pull Kyle against him, making Kyle rest his head on the blonde's stretched out upper arm while Kenny had his head turned to the side, nuzzling his nose into Kyle's messy red curls. He wanted to wrap his other arm around the redhead but he didn't want to take it too far; he knew he'd already shocked Kyle enough for the day, but Kyle's stiffness was starting to make Kenny really worry that he'd done something else wrong without realizing it.

Little did Kenny know though that Kyle's stringent disposition had nothing to do with him and was instead caused by Kyle's own thoughts and concerns for his bedmate. That whole evening, he couldn't get over the fact that he was doing exactly what Stan had done; he was using Kenny, and Kenny was completely willing to go along with everything. It made his stomach twist up in knots and he wanted to shout at his reflection in a mirror, but he kept his cool and was able to contain himself.

"If you need to, pretend I'm Stan." Kenny whispered against Kyle's hair. "It might help you feel a bit more comfortable."

Kyle was brought out of his torturous thoughts when he heard Kenny speaking, finding himself relax considerably. Even though Kenny had really dropped a bomb on him in the living room earlier, he couldn't help but still feel at ease with him. He didn't understand why, but for some reason feeling surrounded by the blonde made him feel safe, so he turned onto his side and cuddled into Kenny, his cheek pressed firmly against Kenny's chest. Maybe the reality of it all would sink in tomorrow, but for now he was alright. Kenny gave a sad smile to nobody in particular at his bittersweet victory.

That night, Kyle slept peacefully to the combined sound of the loud fan and Kenny's even breathing, feeling oddly content as Kenny stared at the ceiling and forced himself not to tear up at the idea that Kyle was imagining Stan while trying to fall asleep, when in reality, Stan was the farthest thing from the redhead's thoughts.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Damn, Kyle didn't get into Kenny's pants! Well that's alright, we're about one or two chapters off from some much needed sexytime.. ;) haha yeah. Fun Fact: That thing with the excavator actually happened to me. I work in construction and my coworker Mike seriously fucked me up. Whatevs. ANYWAYS I apologize for some of the parts of this chapter if they're lacking. I've been sitting here for like 7 straight hours pounding this out (totally scrapped what I had before, so that explains why on Earth it took me two damn weeks to update this). It's like 7k motherfucking words though, so goddamn I hope that's not too much. Also, holy shit you guys, the REVIEWS. WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE ALL OF THOSE JESUS CHRIST.

Yuruki14 - I'd have to say I sympathize with Kenny the most, but Kyle definitely has his hands full and poor Wendy... well, hopefully she'll find out what her stupid husband has been up to and put him in his place ;)

Mousebride - Yeah, I understand Stan seems a bit OOC but it's because I'm attempting to emphasize on what I'd imagine would be his sort of pent up angst/aggression from always being overshadowed by Wendy and finally getting a chance to take it out on Kyle... I mean, I don't usually imagine this being a real thing but in this AU, it exists. I'll be working on getting Stan's normal 'friend' self back in there a bit, though :)

Amberr-Lynn - Oh my Christ, you have no idea how much your review had pretty much made my whole entire friggin WEEK. Seriously, just... idfohkjdflg. Thank you so much!

Animegrl421 - LOL. This chapter is seriously dedicated to you since you apparently tried to stay up until like 3am waiting for me to publish it. Sorry it's a bit late, but I mean... hey, I left in that bit of fluff in the beginning I said I would :) I hope this can hold you over 'til your next fix!

azngirlLH - Thanks! Hopefully Kenny can finish that degree of his... who knows ;P I agree, though; Kenny can def. do a lot more than be a useless homeless drug addict! I imagine he'd be pretty damn hard working and persistent. The bit with Kenny and Damien... well, it's necessary... for reasons. I know Kenny's supposed to be immortal and can't be killed unless it's by another immortal, but I mean I needed to make a couple lame adjustments for this story so excuse me :P ALSO. I JUST RECENTLY REALIZED that you're the one to blame for multiple boners (I didn't know that art was done by you!) and also you're 1/2 of the reason I seriously MADE this story. Your one collab artwork where the boys are all dressed up in Korean street fashion or something and you made Kyle sitting on Kenny as if he were a chair? Yeah. That gave me this one idea and it expanded into THIS story. There'll be a later chapter where it will be quite obvious it got inspiration from that photo, so you'll know :) :)