This is the sequel to Dysfunctional and it takes place thirteen years later. This story wasn't complete at the time of this rewrite, but I thought it still warranted one.

Functional

Chapter 1: Stan and Kyle

It might not be the right time

I might not be the…

"Hey dude," Stanley Marsh said into his mobile, cutting off Daft Punk in favour of his husband's voice. They had gotten married nine years ago when they were both twenty and they both had the song set as their ringtone for each other because it was their wedding song.

"Sorry Stan," The voice of Kyle Marsh (formerly Broflovski) filled his ear, "I'm going to be late home. A bus crashed and it was full of people."

Kyle was a doctor, or more accurately a surgeon, but he did diagnosis as well. He had taken a job at Hell's Pass when they had moved back to South Park after Kyle finished medical school four years ago, both of them claiming to hate life in the city.

"Don't worry about it, it isn't your fault." Stan decided not to mention that he was already late.

"Are the kids asleep?"

When they got back to South Park they had begun looking for a surrogate so they could have children together. They had found one in the form of Bebe Stevens. She had given them two kids, three-year-old Ethan and three-month-old Jake. Ethan had been made using Stan's sperm and Jake had been made with Kyle's. Bebe had left South Park not long after Jake was born, she had flown with Clyde Donovan to Australia.

Stan was a stay-at-home dad, he had paid for Kyle's tuition at medical school, but had taken the decision to look after the kids instead of finding another job in South Park. Kyle was initially against the idea, but he eventually gave in.

"Yeah, they're asleep."

Stan heard Kyle sigh, he hated being home after the kids were asleep. The most he'd got to see of them that morning was a peek into their bedrooms at their still sleeping forms, "Sorry it took me so long to call, I haven't had a free minute."

"Don't worry, you were always going to call eventually."

Kyle chuckled, "Yeah I was, anyway I've got to go. Love you."

Stan smiled fondly, "Love you too."

That was why Stan was currently curled in their double bed, reading one of Kyle's old books. Kyle had a lot of them, so Stan would read when he had a free moment in favour of watching TV. It was a recent development, started because Kyle was thinking of throwing them out and Stan's hoarder tendencies showed up again. He had originally just started reading them because he'd said to keep them, but now he really enjoyed it and Kyle's supply of books the Jew had read was almost constantly growing. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it read one am, he was worried. Whenever Kyle had to stay late he normally came home around nine.

His ears perked when he heard the door unlock and open downstairs, footsteps were clear on the stairs. Stan smiled when he saw the lime-green ushanka (yes, he still wore it) atop the short frame of his husband appeared in the doorway.

Kyle looked exhausted, he'd been up since six and dark rings were visible around his eyes. His movements were sluggish as he stripped down to his boxers and looked for pyjama bottoms and an old T-shirt.

"Is something wrong?" Stan asked, noticing something off, only he would have been able to tell.

"My last patient died in my hands today," Kyle sighed as he pulled on green pyjama bottoms and Stan's high school American football jersey, people had died whilst he was operating before. The first time it had happened a little girl was the one who died, everything was going okay when she died of a brain aneurism. Kyle wasn't a brain surgeon, so there was nothing he could do, but he had beat himself up over it for two weeks.

"Well you had been up for ages," Stan said in an attempt to cheer him up or at least make him feel better, "You won't have been on top of your game."

"It's not that someone died, that's part of the job. It's who."

"What?"

"It was Ned."

Stan set his book down on the bedside cabinet, "Ned? As in Jimbo's best friend?"

Kyle nodded as he climbed into bed and wrapped himself around Stan, "Your Uncle's going to hate me."

"He'll understand," Stan said as he pulled his husband into a hug. He was about to continue when Kyle's stomach growled, "Have you had anything to eat?"

Kyle shook his head, "That bus was completely full. I've been working non-stop since I called you."

Stan got out of bed to go to the kitchen and returned with a sandwich.

"Eat that, you're diabetic, you have to eat."

Kyle took as bite and hummed contentedly, he laid his head on Stan's shoulder tiredly as he ate, Stan wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into the ushanka. They were still as touchy-feely as they'd ever been, and more importantly, still as in love as they'd ever been. They'd been described before as a perfect couple, something that had made them laugh whilst feeling an immense feeling of pride at the same time. Most people had thought they'd be together since they were young and they were one of the only couples in South Park that people thought would last until death did them part.

"You're so brave," Stan said quietly as he nuzzled his husband.

"How?"

"People rely on you to save their lives, I'd have done a Tweek by now."

Kyle smiled, "Too much pressure?"

Stan nodded, "Exactly."

"It's a good thing I don't work weekends," Kyle said as he finished the sandwich, "I'd be a liability if I had to go in tomorrow."

"We have go and see Jimbo then," Stan said, "He'll be taking it pretty hard."

"I can't show my face in front of him, I'd just feel guilt."

"He'd prefer you to go, he doesn't have to find out."

Kyle yawned, "Can we talk about this tomorrow? I can't stay awake much longer."

Stan nodded and lay down, pulling Kyle into his chest so that he was spooning him, Kyle moved back into Stan's chest as far as he could go, Stan gently turned his head so he could kiss him.

"You're perfect," Stan whispered, "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kyle was nearly asleep, but he fell asleep feeling warm inside.