"You know dude, I don't think anything has ever failed as hard as you're failing right now."

"Trust me Stan, nothing could ever fail as hard as your face."

Kyle pulled the ancient, cracked Gamesphere controller into his chest as he bounced about anxiously, shaking the old, beat up sofa, desperate to activate a very unwilling combo move.

"Not even your face?"

"Of course not, my face is epic. My face epitomises epic. Tales of my epic face echo across the land. People write odes about how epic my face is."

"Your face isn't epic; whoever told you that was lying."

"Jealousy is an ugly colour on you Stanley. I know we can't all have my Godlike good looks, but do try to be gracious about it."

"Godlike good looks? Dude, you have your mother's nose."

And with those deeply offensive words, Stan mashed several buttons furiously and watched his character kick his opponents head clean off. Not that it mattered, Kyle had dropped the controller and turned indignantly towards Stan the second his nose had been brought into the scrap.

"Too mean dude, take it back. I do not have my mother's nose."

Stan just grinned at his characters victory, puffing out his chest in slightly melodramatic pride. "No way, I know the truth hurts, but dude, you just have to deal with it graciously."

Kyle slitted his eyes, balling his fists with a foreboding hiss of "Deal with this graciously."

"You know, I actually really hope those two never realise they can fuck." Kenny murmured softly into his coffee, his eyes fixed on the two wriggling figures fighting for dominance on his couch.

Across the dining room table, Butters stopped chewing on his Pop Tart, his eyes widening in surprise. "B-buh-but Kenny, everyone says they're meant to be together 'till the end of space and time and stuff."

"They're just joking Butters."

"I d-don't know Ken-"

"They're just joking Butters."

Butters just lowered his gaze, carefully brushing the crumbs from his Pop Tart into a neat, geometric pile. Something about his silent, disbelieving acceptance really irked Kenny. "Kyle and Stan aren't going to fuck Butters. They're both way too naïve, and way too straight for that." He said it quietly, firmly, addressing his coffee cup over his companion. He was trying to reassure himself more then anything, trying to convince himself that perhaps, just perhaps if he said it often enough, if he pretended he believed it, it would somehow become true.

Butters bit his lip, tracing his fingers across the old, chipped tabletop, catching the last of the Pop Tart crumbs. Kenny just pulled a face; it really was a feeble endeavour. His house was already a complete shit hole, a few crumbs of pastry were nothing but grains in a desert.

"I w-wouldn't be so sure Kenny. I mean, nothing's impossible, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. It's just that if those two ever realise they can actually stop being two separate beings and join together into one, I don't think they'll ever disconnect. Every time I see them they'll have the others dick inserted into one of their orifices. It might get tiring after a while."

Kenny stomach lurched as he watched Kyle straddle Stan. He didn't like that. No, he really didn't like that. Something about that made him feel very, very wrong. And very, very lonely.

He clenched his jaw. He very much wanted Stan to leave Kyle alone now. He really very much wanted that. Sighing, Butters glanced at Kenny, concern pulling down the corner of his lip.

"Buh-because this i-isn't tiring?"

Kenny blinked, before smiling feebly into his coffee, pushing the cup against his cold cheek. Across the room, all five foot five of Kyle was kneeling on all six foot whatever of Stan, mercilessly punching him in his broad shoulders. Stan didn't seem to mind however, he was too busy using the fight as an excuse to caress Kyle's ribs. Kenny's chest constricted.

"I guess it'll be a different kind of tiring, Butters."

A/N – (Ohoh, sorry it's so short. It was actually a scene I wrote for No One Ever Said That Life Was Fair, but I never found the right time to use it. So you see what I did there? OhGodSorry sorry oy. Feel free to shoot me.)

So there we go. All done, all dusty dusted. A cherry blossom tree of thank you's to everyone who saw it through, I really hope I didn't disappoint. A whole entire sakura orchard to everyone who reviewed with such lovely wonderful things, who kept with it and stuck it out, you really make writing things like this an absolute absolute joy. Loves loves lovely loves!

P.S. The things that's coming next (which might be a little way away as it's assessment time at uni so ohgodshootmenowplz) is a bit different. It's not Carnival (that's still cooking), it's more Style. But aged up. More then usual. To like, thirty or something. So yeah.

Yeah.

KyandiFlüss.

And Savannah, whupsy, thank you! And sorry about that that! I had a little glance over that last chapter and changed some of the "all this and whatevers" into new shiny bright bright things. I guess I'm just liking "all" at the moment, it's like, my new word of the week! Heyho heyho!

As for Eric/Mrs. B smex, perhaps, perhaps one day the world will be ready. Perhaps one day there will be enough eye bleach, enough eye bleach for everyone! =P Still, until next time, farewell! Loves loves loves.