It was the middle of the afternoon, and Kyle, having no job and having done the laundry, was sat on the couch, cross-legged with his laptop on his crotch, in his green plaid boxers and Raging Pussies t-shirt, scrolling down his tumblr dash with a deep sigh.

"God, I am so sick of all these fandom wars," he said after having read the fifth post begging for peace. "This site is such trash. Right, Edgar?" He looked to the side, to see what the llama looking at his dash from over his shoulder thought. Edgar looked back at him, and made a llama noise in return. Kyle sighed again as he turned back to the laptop. "Yeah, you said it, buddy."

Perhaps once upon a time Kyle would have been freaked out by a llama looking over his shoulder, stood behind the couch watching him scroll, but such a time was long gone. It had been gone ever since he had returned home from visiting his family, and found a llama in the living room of his and Cartman's shared apartment, eating the chandelier. Even then, he had actually been more worried about the chandelier than where the heck the llama had come from.

He had hated the llama at first. It ate his house plants, and it was always watching him, and no matter how much he begged for Cartman to get rid of it, still it stayed. But over time the llama had become more of a comfort. When Kyle was stuck home alone all day, what with Cartman always off doing some business or other, the llama was the only company he had. So he had started talking to it. Once when he had caught the llama staring at him whilst chewing idly, he had furrowed his brows and splayed out his hands and demanded to know, "What are you looking at?!" The llama had only continued to chew. And Kyle had only continued to talk.

When the washing machine had acted up, he had gestured to it in frustration and asked the llama, "Can you believe this?" When Cartman had walked out in the middle of a fight, he had scoffed to the llama, "What an asshole!" When he was loading the dishwasher, he said to the llama, "Ugh, my throat feels really scratchy today. What's with that? Maybe I should go see a doctor or something. What do you think?" And somewhere along the way, the llama had become Edgar. That was meant to have stayed just between him and the llama, but it had accidentally slipped out in anger.

Cartman had been home, for once. He had been sitting on the couch, with a cigarette between his lips and a lighter in his hands, trying to wind down after a long day. But then Kyle had walked into the room and gone to stand in front of him with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face.

"So you're finally back!" he had huffed. "Cartman, I am so sick of Edgar! He ate a whole roll of toilet paper today! A whole roll! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, get rid of that llama!"

Cartman had only cocked an amused brow. "Edgar? Seriously?"

And that had been that. Kyle hadn't wanted to talk more about how fond of the llama he had become, which he really had. Edgar was the friend he had never wanted. So he let him browse tumblr with him. But, just then, their blogging was interrupted as the doorbell rang, and Kyle sighed again as he had to get up and answer it.

"Coming!" he called as he shut the laptop and rested it on the couch. He walked to the door with the llama's eyes trained on him all the while. He opened the door wide, but then gasped and quickly slammed it shut again, spinning round to look at Edgar in terror. "Shit," he hissed, "it's the landlord!"

Edgar just stared back silently, but Kyle interpreted it as a look that said, "Oh, shit."

"Kyle?" the landlord called cautiously through the door, knocking upon it. "Kyle, is everything alright?"

Kyle looked meaningfully at Edgar as he held out his hands with palms showing to him, silently telling him to stay. Edgar obediently stayed behind the couch, so Kyle turned back to the door and opened it again, but only slightly, and pushed himself into the gap so that the landlord couldn't see into the apartment.

"Hey, Greg," he chuckled nervously. "Sorry about that. This damn door, y'know." He slapped the wood demonstratively and laughed in a way that was not at all innocent. The landlord raised a brow at him, looking like he thought Kyle was weird. He wasn't wrong to think that, really.

"Right," he said. "Well, anyway, I'm here to inspect the apartment. Can I come in?" He made a move to step in, but Kyle cried out and pushed the door closed further.

"Ah, no! W-wait just a minute! I've got some, uh, dirty clothes lying about, so let me hide those first! I won't be a minute!"

Without giving the landlord a chance to so much as open his mouth, Kyle slammed the door shut and bolted to Edgar.

"Shit, what do we do?!" he asked him in a panicked whisper. "The landlord can't see you! Oh my God, he'd kick you out! You'd become a hobo llama! We have to hide you! Where's the best place to hide a llama?!"

Edgar only grunted in response, which wasn't at all helpful. Kyle looked all around the living room desperately, trying to think quickly.

"Um, uh…Oh!" he exclaimed when he saw one of the large, extravagant lamps. "Perfect!"

He hurried to it and pulled the lampshade off, and returned to Edgar so as to place it over his head.

"Alright," he said, nodding his head approvingly as he took a step back. "Actually…Hmm…"

He tapped his chin as he reconsidered. Something was off about it. He gasped when he realised it was the placement.

"Wait, come here," he said, taking a hold of Edgar's head and pulling him along with him. "Nobody puts lamps behind the couch. You should stand, um…Ah! Here!" He led Edgar to an empty, llama-sized space next to the wall, between the furniture, and pushed him sideways into it. "Okay, Edgar. Just stay there. Be a good boy and don't move, alright?"

Edgar stayed quiet, doing a great job acting like a lamp, so Kyle returned to the door, where he took a deep breath and smoothed out the rumples in his t-shirt before opening it.

"Sorry about that," he chuckled to his disgruntled-looking landlord. "You can come in now."

Kyle felt himself beginning to sweat as Greg stepped into the apartment. He told himself that he needed to act casual, but in his panic he forgot what it was to be casual, so ended up rigidly following Greg everywhere he went, biting his bottom lip 'til it bled and hugging himself for comfort. When Greg made passing comments, asking about his and Cartman's photographs and commending their choice of yoghurts, Kyle just laughed and said, "Yeah," a lot. Inside his head, he was praying desperately, in English, Hebrew, and Yiddish that all would go well. His prayers intensified, when Greg laid eyes on Edgar by the wall.

'Oh, shit,' Kyle thought, biting his lip all the harder as Greg stared intently at Edgar for an excruciatingly long time. 'We are so busted.' He waited, for Greg to blow up at him, to demand that they pack their bags and go, to become abruptly homeless…but none of that happened.

"That's a nice lamp," was all Greg said, before taking his eyes off Edgar and heading to the doorway. Kyle stared slack-jawed after him. "Well," Greg said whilst Kyle was stunned to silence, "your apartment checks out fine, so you pass for this month. Don't slack though." Greg seemed to be waiting for a response, so Kyle had to force himself to close his mouth and shake his head, wide-eyed and unblinking. "Alright," Greg continued, as he pulled the door shut after himself, "I'll see you later, Kyle."

The door closed with a click, and Kyle was left in shock in the living room. He waited a few seconds, and when it seemed like Greg wasn't coming back, he went to Edgar, and reached up to pull the lamp off his head. He looked bewildered, for a llama.

"Yeah," Kyle murmured, "me and you both, buddy."

After that terrifying event, Kyle was too worn out to face the fandom war being waged on his dash, so decided to settle down in the couch cushions to read I Seduced Bigfoot to Save Broadway from the Homophobic Sasquatches…And I liked it! He even let Edgar chew on the corner of the book, although the llama abruptly stopped and raised his head, flicking his ears, when the front door opened and in walked Cartman.

"Hey," Kyle said, not even looking up from the book. "You're home early."

"Yeah." Cartman proved to be as tired as he sounded when he dragged his feet to the couch, and fell down onto it, landing on Kyle.

"Oof!" Kyle wheezed, jolting upwards. He snarled, and closed the book to hit Cartman over the head with it. "Don't do that, you're fat as fuck!"

"Don't be mean," Cartman whined childishly. "I'm tired."

"That's not my problem," Kyle huffed. Yet, he put the book down and shifted, situating them so that he was sat upright on the couch, and Cartman's head was resting in his lap, where he could stroke it like a cat. Unlike a cat, Cartman didn't purr, but he did smile and close his eyes with a sigh, seeming to enjoy the attention. "Greg came to inspect the apartment today," Kyle told Cartman whilst he continued to stroke his head. "It was awful. I had to put a lampshade on Edgar's head so he didn't see him and kick him out."

Cartman chuckled. "Aw, so you do care about the llama."

A blush rose to Kyle's cheeks. "Whatever. I just didn't want Greg to get mad and kick us all out."

"Don't worry, Kyle" Cartman said, "the llama likes you too." He laughed when Kyle whacked him on the head for his troubles. It was a bit annoying, but Kyle supposed it couldn't be helped. Cartman always had liked to make fun of him, and being an adult didn't make him any less of a child.

When Cartman's laughter had subsided and he was settled once more, Kyle returned to stroking his head. "Are you hungry?" he asked. It didn't make sense for him to worry about such a thing with Cartman, when the man had enough meat on his bones to last him for a fair few months, but Kyle was an inherent worrier, thanks to his mother's genetics.

Cartman smirked, sitting up and leaning into Kyle. "Hungry for you, maybe," he whispered, his lips brushing against his ear.

Kyle shivered at the feeling of Cartman's hot breath on his skin, his cheeks heating. "That's cheesy," he chided.

Cartman chuckled, his teeth lightly grazing the shell of Kyle's ear. "Maybe," he murmured, sliding an arm around Kyle's waist and pulling him in closer, "but you like it." His lips went lower, down to kiss at just below his jaw. Kyle moaned and arched his neck, eager to add a few more hickeys to his collection, because yeah, he did like it.

It didn't take many coaxing kisses from Cartman before they abandoned the couch, in favour of going to the bedroom, where they fell onto the mattress and got busy straightaway with undressing each other. In no time at all they were naked, and after an adequate amount of foreplay in the form of biting and sucking and kissing, they were down to business, missionary-style. Sex was going as it usually did for them, and yet for some reason Kyle couldn't get into it. He felt detached and distracted.

"Wait," he said, squeezing Cartman's shoulder to urge him to stop. "Something's off."

"Yeah, the lights," Cartman said smartly. Kyle slapped him lightly for that.

"No, I mean…I feel like we're being watched."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "You're just being paranoid," he sighed, leaning in to kiss Kyle's neck. Kyle shook his head and pushed him away.

"No," he insisted, "I really feel like we are. Hold on a sec." He shifted, twisting at his waist to turn to reach the lamp on the bedside table. He pulled its cord, and light chased the darkness away, illuminating the llama stood in the doorway, silently staring at them. Kyle screamed. The llama's ears flickered at the high-pitched noise, but otherwise it remained impassive.

"Well, what d'ya know," Cartman said casually, looking over his shoulder at their audience. "The llama likes human porn."

"Edgar!" Kyle cried, gathering up the sheets, trying to cover himself and protect his modesty. "Get out of here! Go on, shoo!" It stood there a few seconds longer, but eventually the llama did turn and clop out of the room, down the hallway. The sound of its hooves could be heard fading the further it got, and when it was gone completely Kyle's shoulders sagged with relief.

"We have a perverted llama," Cartman remarked.

"Jesus, fuck," Kyle groaned. "Just fuck me 'til I forget that whole fucking thing."

Cartman did fuck him after that, and he did it well; but he didn't manage to fuck that traumatic experience out of him. Kyle felt like he had crossed a line with Edgar that night, and there was no going back from it. He imagined that that was what it felt like for parents whose child walked in on them during sex. Except his "child" was a ginger, six-foot-two llama.

"Cartman," he whispered when they were laid nude post-sex in bed, "are you awake?"

"Hmm?" Cartman hummed sleepily. He didn't sound very awake, but so long as he was responsive, that was all that mattered.

"Should I go talk to him?"

"…Who?"

"Edgar. He might be sort of…scarred, after what he saw, y'know. And I don't want him to think I'm mad at him."

"…You talkin' 'bout the llama?"

"Yeah. I should probably go check on him, don't you think?"

After a pause, Cartman sighed wearily. "…Go to sleep, Kyle."

Kyle tried. He scooted closer to Cartman's warmth and snuggled deeper under the covers, and closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing at all. Alas, Kyle couldn't. He waited several minutes, and then he could wait no longer.

"I'm going to talk to him," he informed Cartman as he slid out from underneath the covers and went about looking for where he had flung his boxers. Cartman had managed to get to sleep though, so he neither heard nor responded.

It was dark in their apartment. Luckily, Kyle knew where all the furniture was situated, so didn't trip over or bump into anything on his way to the living room. Lunar light was shining through the window, and stood before it was the llama, looking up at the moon. Edgar turned his head when he heard Kyle padding barefoot across the floor, but soon turned back to looking to the moon. Kyle came to a stop beside Edgar, chewing his lip and rubbing his bare forearm.

"The moon's nice tonight, huh?" he began – the best ice-breaker he could come up with.

Edgar did not respond.

"I bet Willzyx is up there, dancing with the other zypods in his castle."

Still Edgar did not respond.

Kyle sighed and looked down at his feet. "Hey, listen. I didn't mean for you to see that back there, so I'm sorry. It was probably pretty, uh…pretty gross to your…llama brain, or whatever. Unless you're into that sort of stuff. I dunno. I mean, you've seen worse shit on my tumblr dash and you've never been phased by that, so maybe you're okay. I just wanted to make sure, y'know. Things are still cool between us."

He looked back up, and hope lit in his chest when he found that Edgar was finally looking at him. The llama leant down to butt Kyle's shoulder with his nose. Kyle chuckled, and rubbed Edgar's nose, feeling relief welling inside him.

"Yeah, we're still cool, aren't we? It's gonna take more than you seeing me banging my man to make us uncool. Or, y'know, my man banging me. Either or." Kyle stepped away from Edgar, backing away towards the bedroom. "Well, I can rest easy now, so I'm going back to bed. Don't stay up too late, okay? I don't want you to be all cranky in the morning."

If llamas could have rolled their eyes and said, "Whatever, dude," then Kyle felt as though that was exactly what Edgar would have done. As it was, Edgar just grunted softly, and went back to his moon-gazing. Meanwhile, Kyle went back to his bed, and sighed out of satisfaction as he got back under the warm quilt. That time when he tried to go to sleep, he could.

Author's Notes:

Ahh, it's my very first Kyama fanfic. Wow, just look at these two. Fuck Style, man, this is the true BROTP, haha! It was brought about by many conversations with MissMaryMason, who came up with Edgar the llama, and has included him in two works of their Born To Die verse, Over the Rocky Cliffs and Disgruntled Llama Noises, both of which I recommend you read. Oh, look, there's Kyman too. But fuck that, Kyama's better, haha! Also, I did it, Mary. I mentioned that book, like I promised I would. I hope that you are pleased.
Thank you for reading this, and I hope you had as much fun doing so as I did writing it.

Disclaimer: South Park does not belong to me, but to its creators, Trey Parker and Matt Stone.