Kyle's Jeans

By AllzStar

Author's Note: I'm not sure how far this will go. Might even be just a one-shot. It was worth a try, either way.

Chapter One – I've Gotta Stop

Damn it. He's wearing those pants again. Those dark-washed, tight-ass jeans that cling to his slim legs and tight, round buttocks. I can't stop myself from looking at him when he's wearing those goddamn pants. They're unbearably sexy. He's unbearably sexy—more so than usual—when he wears them. The tight t-shirt and loose blazer he's got on just make my stomach clench sickeningly. Damn you, Kyle Broflovski, for being so goddamn appealing.

He's loping along next to Stan Marsh, the straight-as-a-flag-pole football star with the muscles to prove it. Marsh, the little bitch who had caught Kyle's sexual attention long ago, is oblivious to his best friend's feelings, brushing them off as 'best-friends-being-so-close-they-can-cuddle-on-the-sofa-and-it-doesn't-mean-anything'. Right. If there's one thing I know about Kyle Broflovski, it's that he's warm for Stan Marsh's form.

Gay. Queer. Homosexual. Like me, only much more obvious about it. Kyle, the little tight-ass Jew with the blushing rosy cheeks and small, cherubic mouth, is gay. Gay, gay, gay. I've known for a long time, longer than he has. But for some reason, I've never had the guts to call him on it. Something just tells me that would destroy him. And...he'd never talk to me again. That I couldn't live with.

Because, for some insane reason I cannot fathom, and against all that I've worked on in our lives to make him hate me, I love Kyle Broflovski.

And goddamnit, those stupid sexy pants are driving me insane.

"Hey, fatass," Kyle chimes as he approaches me. Stan's zoned out; probably thinking about Wendy's tits, or something farfetched like that.

I can't believe even that stupid childhood nick name makes my heart quiver.

I also can't believe that throughout my childhood I ridiculed gay people, only to become one myself.

Well, I'm not gay.

I'm just in love with one of my best guy friends. That's not gay, right? I mean, I still like girls. Yeah. Boobs are hot. Mmm. But Kyle...Kyle strikes something deep inside of me. Now, that sounds gay.

Maybe it's because he looks like a girl?

I can't stop my eyes from travelling up and down his slight body. Slight is putting it mildly. He's not skinny, exactly. He's got meat on his bones. He's just...tiny. Small. Delicate-looking. Petite. You'd think a seventeen-year-old guy would cover up his pixie-like form with baggy clothes or something, but instead Kyle seems to flaunt it. With those jeans. Goddamn. He's like a fucking angel.

Whatever. It's not my fault Kyle wears his pants way too tight to be straight. If he wants to look gay, well...I'm not complaining.

"Hey, Jew," I call back, quickly bringing my eyes back to his face. His soft, heart-shaped, freckles face. His orb-like green eyes. "Where's Kenny?"

"Hungover," Stan replies easily, his thick lips twisting into a Cheshire-cat grin. "Poor kid really hit the Jack last night."

He's talking, of course, about Craig's pre-grad party. It went down last night. I went, mostly because I knew Kyle would be there.

I meet Kyle's eyes now. He blushes and looks away (damn it, he's so adorable when he blushes). I know what he's thinking. Remembering.

"Where the hell is Kyle?" I asked Stan, even though Wendy was pretty much giving him a lap-dance.

"Dunno," Stan replied lazily, licking his lips and smiling at me sloppily. "Probably in the bedroom." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Doubt it," I retorted snappishly. "Fuck you, Marsh. You sick perv. Take care of your friends." With that I got up and stormed away from him and his slutty-ass girlfriend.

Kyle was delusional if he seriously thought he stood a chance with Stanley Marsh. Wendy's vag was so loose from his cock he could probably get his fist in there, too, right alongside his huge cock. And Stan's hands we're the dainty little things that Kyle's were.

For lack of better things to do, I decided to search for the little Jew in question. I allowed myself the amusement of following Marsh's suggestions and head upstairs towards the bedrooms. I've been to Craig's house several times before, so I knew for a fact that there were three bedrooms in this house.

The master bedroom was occupied by two chicks who were smoking a joint. They invited me to join them, but I reluctantly declined, proceeding with my mission.

Craig's sister's room was empty.

I padded across the hall to Craig's bedroom and paused at the door to listen. Yeah, there was definitely something going on in there. My gut seized with jealously, my fists clenching, ready to knock out the douche that Kyle was with.

That's when I heard a muffled cry inside, and I swore I heard someone yell "HELP!"

I turned the knob and shoved the door open.

The scene I saw before me will haunt me till I die.

Kyle was bent over Craig's desk, his pants down around his ankles. The host himself was holding Kyle down, his hand slapped over the small Jew's mouth to muffle his cries. Craig was grinding his hips against Kyle's ass, and I can tell you, Kyle wasn't enjoying it.

Craig looked up when I came in, the expression on his face indifferent to my presence. He probably figured I wouldn't give a rat's ass that he was about to rape my friend; maybe he even thought I'd help him out. Boy, was he surprised when I flew forward and connected my fist with his jaw as hard as I could.

Kyle immediately gathered his pants up and did up his belt. Craig was swearing like a sailor as I grabbed Kyle's arm and pulled him from the room.

"Where are we going?" Kyle asked, his voice shaking slightly. I can feel his arm vibrating under my hand as his entire body succumbs to shivers.

"Away from here," I growled, tugging him along. We went downstairs and hightailed it for the front door. I shielded Kyle's view of the living room with my body as we passed it; he really didn't need to see Stan and Wendy fornicating on the couch, both with their shirts off.

I shoved him in my car and then got in myself. "I'm driving you home," I told him as I booted up the engine, twisting the key in the ignition so hard I was scared I'd broken the key.

Kyle just nodded and looked out the window, his small face pinched with fear. His small form was shaking; his fingers drummed against his thigh like rain against the window. I leaned forwards to switch on the heat, turning it up full blast. Pretty soon I was sweating, but I didn't care. I just wanted him to stop shaking. To feel better.

We were halfway to his house when he spoke in a very small voice. "Why did you do that?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Save me."

I shrugged. "Intuition."

"But you didn't have to."

"Would you rather I'd just let him rape you?" I demanded hotly, looking at him pointedly.

Kyle shook his head slowly. I looked back at the road, but I could still feel his eyes on my face."Thank you."

I murmured a gruff "you're welcome" before scolding him. "You've gotta watch out for people like that, Kyle."

"People like that?" Kyle repeated, looking at me with wide eyes. "Like Craig?"

I nodded sagely. "Perverts."

Kyle scowled. "Need I remind you that I'm the same age as everyone at that party?"

I shot him a look. "I know that. But they're still horny perverts, looking for a piece of ass. And you...well, Kyle, you're just..." I trailed off, hoping he'd get the point.

He didn't. "I'm just what?" he asked innocently.

I shook my head. "Never mind. You just need to...watch out. I'm not always gonna be here to save your ass."

"I don't need you to save my ass," Kyle snapped immediately, defending his dignity now. "And I want to know what I am, why the perverts like me."

So he did know. He just wanted to hear it from me.

I hope.

"You're tiny, Kyle. You're breakable. Sick perverts like Craig like that, because, well, the smaller the person, the younger they seem, and the younger they seem, the tighter their ass is. They just...it's like raping a kid." I was clutching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white. "Sick bastards. It makes me nauseous."

Kyle stared at the dashboard, his small face blank. "They like me because I'm little?" he asked no one in particular.

I looked at him, feeling my face go pale. "Kyle...this isn't the first time this has happened, is it?"

He shook his head and looked out the window.

"When did it happen?" Damn it. He made me go all soft.

Kyle didn't answer. Instead he said, "You just passed my house."

"Shit." I turned the car around and pulled up in front of Kyle's house.

"Where are you going to go?" Kyle asked without looking at me.

I shrugged. "I dunno. I'll probably go back. Gotta make sure Kenny doesn't drink himself sick again. And I've got some business to attend to."

Kyle looked at me sharply, his thin red brows knitted together. "Don't start any trouble, Cartman. The last thing we need is Craig on our asses." He blushed when he realize the double meaning to his sentence.

Before I could stop myself I reached over to rumple his hair. "Get outta here, kid," I said softly, giving him a gentle push towards the door.

He smiled and I nearly passed out on the steering wheel. He undid his seat belt and stepped out of the car. He waved through the window before flouncing up the steps to his house. I watched him until the front door closed.

I sighed and pulled away from the curb. I hated that the tiny Jew had this affect on me.

I lift my chin in Kyle's direction. "You okay?"

He nods shyly, looking at the ground. Stan looks from him to me and back again, but doesn't comment. There's an awkward pause. Stan breaks it first. "Did either of you sleep last night?"

I shrug. "Nah."

"I did," says Kyle, perking up a little. "My ears were ringing all night, though. They had that music on so loud."

"Mine are still ringing," Stan says, pressing his palm against the side of his head.

"I'm sure they are," I growl, sneering at Stan. The dark-haired boy looks at my questioningly. "Wendy scream in your ear one too many times, Marsh?"

Stan turns beet red while Kyle blanches. Shit. Now I've gone and hurt him. Shit, shit. Shit! I shouldn't feel guilty hurting Kyle! I spent all my childhood finding ways to make his life miserable. Why do I care so much now? Why can't I stand to see that hurt look in his big green eyes? Am I insane?

No. Just gay.

Gay for Kyle.

Who is also gay. For Stan. Who loves Wendy. Who's been boinked by Kenny several times.

It's a big, goddamn love triangle.

Fuck those goddamn jeans.