Chapter Text
Karen is a beautiful, intelligent, wonderful younger sister. She grows into herself more and more each day, truly blossoming into what Kenny believes will be one of the greatest women of this generation. The world doesn’t deserve her, a truth he’s wrestled with but has long accepted will never change.
And she’s become a fucking menace.
He would link her pot-stirring tendencies back to her befriending Tricia; all Tuckers have attitude problems one way or another, and Karen was always sheepish before their friendship. Though, he supposes it could also have to do with age. Once Kenny himself had entered middle school, he’d started to speak up more, act out, step away from the wallflower character trope that had been sorta thrust onto him.
Thinking too long on his sister’s growth is nothing but bittersweet, an overwhelming sense of pride clashing with the heavy reality that one day she won’t need her big brothers anymore. He knows Kevin can feel it, too. Now that he’s out of the house more for football practice, and got a small job hand-washing cars on the weekends he doesn’t have to watch so closely over Karen and she’s able to walk herself home from school, or take the bus with her own friends. He’d never say it, more for the lack of words than anything, but Kenny can tell his sentimentality is shared.
But, fuck, she’s still a menace.
He’s sitting in her room now, as he often does while waiting for Kevin to get home. On practice nights he usually picks up dinner for the three of them on his way back from school. Sometimes... Stan will join if he doesn’t have homework to catch up on. (Or if Kenny was particularly successful in charming him to stay. He isn’t above a little shameless begging, or bribery.) Stan had gotten his own car the moment he got a license at sixteen, like half the other kids at school. While a part of Kenny is deeply envious over this show of privilege, he’s undeniably reaping his own part of the benefits. Being that he lives right across the tracks from the McCormicks, they often get Stan to help drive them around, not that he ever complained. Stan is surprisingly easy.
Now that Kevin’s grades levelled out enough to grant him a place on the team, he’s spending more time with Stan, which has been reflecting surprisingly well on Kenny’s own relationship with him. They’d always been friends, but the best friend part is still relatively new. It’s been a natural transition, albeit a surprising one. He never intended to get closer to Stan; he never expected it to happen before he was suddenly thrust in the midst of it and could expect sudden late night texts from the quarterback asking if he wanted to sneak out for a run to the nearest McDonald’s (which is a whole twenty minutes drive away.) Now they banter , and share inside jokes in front of others even if no one else can get why it’s funny. Kenny knows it’s obnoxious, he knows it’s an utter and total flex of his bond to the other boy, but he’s willing to admit to himself that he’s possessive over this friendship.
He never asked to feel close to Stan, he’d been willing to spend every moment with him in the same pseudo-neutrality he held since Kindergarten. But, now that they’re close he’s terrified of losing it, somehow. If he ever had to go back to status quo feels, he knows it would rightly ruin him. This new attention is nothing short of addicting, and Kenny’s willpower is shit when it comes to his vices.
Which is what makes falling in love with Stan the most unbearable thing that’s ever happened to him. And he has died many gruesome, bloody, torturous deaths.
Nothing beats the chest aching deep-rooted bitterness he feels whenever faced with his fate. The headslide into loving his best friend was even more sudden than their relationship’s progression. As if it wasn’t bad enough to get the attention he needs (but has no idea how to protect), he’s now gone ahead and done the one thing that could certainly and absolutely drive a friend away from you. The butterflies, and the reddened cheeks feel like a chronic illness that he needs to just live with. Even trying to fall back on his quiet nature doesn’t make him feel safe anymore. He often finds himself wondering if everyone can somehow just read it in his face. What if he has some totally obvious tell that everyone else can see, but him? What if Stan somehow already knows he’s stupidly stupidly balls deep in total and all-consuming love with him, and God forbid, he just pities him? It’s times like that he wishes he still had the hood of his old ratty parka, the one laying across Karen’s shoulders at that very moment, to hide his face in till he could feel normal again.
At some point, somehow, Karen caught on to this developing issue. Which is what she’s confessing to him now, of all times, a mere half hour till Stan drops Kevin off and he’ll be forced to face it head-on again.
“You like him.”
“No.”
Mr. Possy has been sniffing over Karen’s bed sheets throughout their conversation. She’d tricked Kenny out of the small confines of his room with the promise of playing dress-up with said possum, which always had to be a two person affair due to the ever-present threat of rabies. Possy acted like a grouchy cat most of the time, screaming and thrashing if you try to put a bow in his hair, but he’s cute and undeniably worth the countless bites that accumulate across Kenny’s fingers. Plus, it makes the rest of the family absolutely gush over him, so technically Mr. Possy should have no right to complain.
It’s easy to distract himself with Mr. Possy, interrupting his investigative adventures with a small scratch of his finger behind his ear. Karen doesn’t fall for the cuddly cute bait, though she does pause a second to lovingly boop his nose. Instead she turns her body on the bed to better face her older brother.
At that moment she appears frighteningly thirteen, the most thirteen he’s ever seen her before, her eyes are dark with maturity, and hair no longer messily falling in her face to hide herself away. She’s put together, and he finds some time in his gay panic to award her some pride.
“You’re scared, right?”
“I- ah,” And just like that, he’s back to not appreciating this truth-telling thing they’re doing. It feels prickly under the skin of his chest, like a wriggling little parasite. “It’s not that. I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”
Yeah. That sounds reasonable enough.
It shouldn’t feel so hard to lie to his sister, really. She somehow still hasn’t found out about her guardian angel, yet, which is a pretty great accomplishment to pull off. If he could properly fabricate an entire persona separate from himself for a little over six years running it should be safe to say he can no-homo his feelings for Stan.
“You never talk to me about how you’re really feeling, Kenny.” He can practically hear the :( in her voice, which causes his resolve to crack significantly. Okay, so maybe he can’t no-homo it that well.
Kenny rubs a hand across his brow, sighing deeply and dramatically. He peers between two of his fingers, but Karen doesn’t seem to let up her curiosity, she’s still leaning towards him with her arms crossed and her bottom lip jutted out in full pathetic display. His heart aches.
“I don’t mean to, sorry.” He leans against the wall behind him, careful not to disturb any of the old drawings Karen’s pinned up over the years. Mr. Possy takes this as an opportunity to crawl into his lap, his little nails getting caught in the material of Kenny’s sweatpants. “It’s really complicated, and I don’t really get it myself- I don’t wanna put that sort of stuff on you.”
“Well, why not?” Karen tilts her head. “I think it’ll help you figure it out if you talk about it.”
It’s hard to fight against Karen’s logic. What he really wants to do is act like a big baby and say he doesn’t wanna, ‘just because,’ then cross his arms over his chest and call it a day.
His face must betray how stubborn he’s feeling, at least a bit, from the way Karen squints her obscenely large brown eyes at him. He’s not big on expressing himself visually, but Karen knows how to pick him apart and see what’s really bothering him. It’s a talent of hers that unfortunately reminds him of Stan, who manages to toe the line between oblivious labrador and eerily keen on Kenny’s every shift in behaviour.
Karen suddenly sits up straighter, grabbing a hold of Kenny’s hand in both of hers, and patting it with great importance.
“Let me give you a makeover!”
Kenny isn’t the sort to turn down a makeover. Karen is absolutely great at them, and the act of being made up has now become a greatly comforting one to him. The suddenness of her suggestion when he was kinda getting into his feelings was just pure emotional whiplash, though, has left him reeling for a second in order to catch up.
“Agh, but- Kevin’s gonna be home soon, shouldn’t we wait?”
“No! It’ll be quick, promise. I know it always makes you feel better when we do. And, anyways, they always have a makeover scene in every romcom!”
“Every, what?” Kenny watches as Karen hops up from the mattress, to a small makeshift vanity she’d set up using a bedside table someone had thrown out, and a small portable mirror taped up to the wall. She gathers an armful of makeup, dropping it unceremoniously besides him. “This isn’t a movie.”
“Puh-lease.” Karen smacks her lips as she begins to dig through her small and treasured collection of makeup. Mr. Possy takes great interest in an old spoolie, gnawing on the bristles with some difficulty. “Sometimes all a hot boy needs to fall in love is a small change in perspective to re-analyze what’s been right in front of him the whole time. A gentle nudge in the right direction, that’s all!”
Kenny’s cheeks redden at any suggestion of him finding Stan hot, or of his best friend finding him attractive as well. He should be fighting Karen on every aspect of this. If he continues to deny his feelings, she’s bound to get bored and give up. Putting it out there feels too much like never going back. His tongue feels tied and stupid, and he’s sure his hesitation is all she even needs for confirmation.
So, he instead sits still as she jumps right into powdering blush onto his already deeply flushed cheeks.
Frustratingly enough, he’s learned to accept that, in the end, she always gets what she wants. His bias for his younger sister does him in every time without fail. It’s startling to think she might one day become self-aware and use this fact against him. If she hasn’t already.
—
They hear the sound of Stan’s truck, before anything. Their shitty house’s shitty walls barely muffled any sounds from the outside world. His dad had once commented about how it would make it near impossible to get their place broken into. Not that there’s any reason to break into this dump, anyway.
As the engine cuts off, Stan’s voice replaces its warm hum. He was incredibly muffled, but still immediately recognizable to Kenny. He’s always so talkative with Kevin, never minding if it’s one-sided, he offers enough conversation to make their interactions feel full either way. Kevin’s great for listening, which is something Kenny knows that not everyone gets about him. Stan seems to have come to that conclusion on his own, though.
His stomach jolts as they approach, and he struggles not to make himself totally obvious when gazing longingly at the back of Karen’s bedroom door. Somehow, with her increasingly unnerving observancy, she still sees right through him.
“Shouldn’t you get the door?”
“Uh, yeah,” He continues to sit on Karen’s bed, for just a small moment more, his fingers tapping against his knee. “I’ll...go now..”
He pretends not to hear a small laugh come from behind him, as he gathers the courage to walk out into the living room.
Kenny feels incredibly lame, warring with any nerves at all. There’s nothing to be worked up about opening a door so your brother, and best friend can drop off their stinky uniforms and have dinner. That’s, like, the lamest and least romantic scenario in the history of the world. He just needs to get over himself and these uncharacteristic nerves. Karen made him look all cute even in old sweats, he deserves to feel cute and confident, too.
He psyches himself up, rolling his shoulder blades back and breathing slowly through his lips before wrenching the door open.
Somehow, he’s surprised to open the door to Kevin, who’s monstrous (by Kenny’s stunted standards) amount of height lets his heart sink to his stomach by perfectly blocking Stan from view.
Kevin has grown to be more handsome than the older teen knows how to deal with. Stuart’s strong masculine features have been passed onto him along with Carol’s kind green eyes. Now that his braces are off he’s total jock material. That still won’t change his utter lack of interest and understanding of socializing with people, though. As far as Kevin’s concerned all that matters is his family, his team, and whatever it takes to keep the two of them. That doesn’t mean he’s incapable of embarrassing said family whenever he’s around their crush, though. In fact it feels like lately he’s drawn to saying the worst thing at the worst time.
His surprise only works to further surprise Kevin, and they stare at each other in classic McCormick silence. He notices a quick up-and-down of his brother’s eyes, and feels his cheeks burn. His embarrassment acts like a California forest fire and quickly engulfs his entire face as he recognizes the signs that Kevin’s about to open his mouth and say something well-meaning. Well-meaning for his blunt brother often means ‘at-the-expense-of-Kenny’s-self-esteem.’ In case he might’ve somehow developed the powers of telepathy overnight, Kenny attempts with his entire being to project just how little he wants his appearance to be commented on to his brother.
It doesn't work.
“What’s, uh-” He points to Kenny’s face, which has quickly morphed into an expression of utter despair. (Which is a bit more than widened eyes and a pinched frown in Kenny’s case.) He can see Stan, nosy as he’s ever been, peer past Kevin’s shoulder to inspect what ‘uh’ could refer to. Kenny feels just as horrified to see Stan’s eyes widen, as he takes in his ‘makeover,’ before quickly looking away. He can’t, for his life, figure out what that’s supposed to mean.
Like a flash of lightning, Karen runs from seemingly out of nowhere to stand between her two brothers, saving them from their constipated conversation. She grabs a hold of Kevin’s arm, interrupting him with a quick greeting to Stan and a demand that her brother, “Help me make some mac’n’cheese!”
Kevin’s total weakness has been struck, the fight is instantly lost, there was no hope for him the moment she smiled up at him with her freckled face. His adoration for his baby sister successfully distracts him from being blunt about how overdressed Kenny’s face is for a school night spent in sweats and a grungy graphic tee, and without offering a reply he’s already being pulled away from the front door.
He gives a final suspicious glance over his shoulder at Kenny as he let himself get dragged off.
“Nice seeing you, Karen.”
Kenny jumps at the sudden proximity of Stan’s voice, turning to see him lean against the door frame, where Kevin had been. Just a terrifyingly short distance from him. Stan has been smiling, absentmindedly staring towards the kitchen where Kevin can be heard asking what the rush is all about, his eyes crinkling at their corners. His smiles are always full-body affairs, affecting every one of his limbs loosening him up and making him look so calm. So happy. Kenny often wonders if it’s something he even notices of himself. When Stan can be deep-thinking and brooding (emo for short,) he’s equally capable of lighting up every conversation he’s a part of. It puzzles Kenny to no end, but draws him in like a curious moth to an open flame.
Without his realizing, Kenny finds himself once more being stared at. Stan’s eyes are dark, barely even blue thanks to wide blown out pupils, and the darkest eyelashes imaginable. It feels unfair, to look so good with barely any effort. His hair’s still wet from his locker room shower, and cheeks pink from the October cold. He should be as average as any other teenage boy fresh from practice, plain and boyish. Though, the mere thought of Stan being average is laughable.
Trying to reclaim his pride, Kenny straightens his back and attempts to deliver a smooth and cool, “Hey.”
“Hey, Ken.”
Lack of foresight, and communication skills leaves Kenny staring bug-eyed up at his friend, struggling to find something to say in order to break the ice (other than another hi, and then another one after that). Stan, in-tune with whatever Kenny’s going through, as usual, picks up the pace with a nod of his head.
“Did Karen get her hands on you, again?”
Kenny pulls his fingertips through the strands of hair framing his face, “Somethin’ like that. Why? Does it look bad?”
“No! God, no- You...” Stan interrupts himself with a laugh, scratching at the hair at the back of his neck. Kenny has noticed he’s been growing it out. Sitting behind him in first period often leaves him smelling the remnants of the lavender shampoo he uses throughout the entire class, and yearning to be able to pull his own fingers through the shiny looking black strands. He continues, “It really brings out your eyes, like, a ton.”
Kenny bites his lip, a smile forcing its way onto his face. “That’s gay as fuck, Stanley.”
Stan shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, scuffing the tip of his aged vans against the concrete outside the door. “Yeah, I know.”
They both find themselves in another lapse of silence, the tension that’s been weighing Kenny’s heart down with guilt filling the space between them. He feels like he’s been cursed, unable to function normally whenever he’s overly aware of his feelings for his best friend. It;s as though he can feel the self-sabotage work in real-time.
Fortunately, they’re once again saved by the disembodied voice of his younger sister, calling to them from the kitchen. “Shut that door, will you? You’re lettin’ a draft in and our dinner’s gonna get all cold ‘fore it’s even done cooking.”
The two of them resume normal functions, as though they’re being pulled by little strings, properly entering the McCormick household. They swiftly shut themselves away in Kenny’s room, but not before they can hear Kevin cussing them out for ‘lettin’ the damn flies in’.
Kenny’s still sometimes filled with embarrassment with the state of his room, knowing that despite Kevin and himself picking up jobs to help their parents afford some much needed fixes, their house could never hold up to those of his friends. He can’t help but look around his room, and wonder if Stan ever takes in the details of the chipped paint, and water-logged ceiling tiles and thinks less of him. He knows Kyle still isn't all that comfortable in his place, and often makes excuses when the others come by. Cartman speaks his mind on his disgust, but he at least brings snacks with him and the occasional plunger to make up for it. It’s strange to think there’s still aspects of Stan that feel like a mystery to him. He feels like he nearly has all the pieces to him, but still falls short.
When he looks back at Stan, he finds that rather than scrutinizing his bedroom he’d been staring at Kenny. His insecurities instantly fall away with that boyish smile on upsettingly cute lips.
“Purple’s really your color, you know?” Stan gestures around his eyes, referring to the soft smoke out of purple shadow Karen had applied. The look was pretty simple, all things considered, as Karen focused on those ‘big ol’ bug eyes’ of his. The compliment still shoves cotton in his throat, though, and he struggles not to giggle from the embarrassment.
“It’s the color of royalty.” He mimics a curtsy. “I would expect nothing less for a princess.”
“Of course!” Stan hits his forehead with the palm of his hand, sitting up from where he’d already been slouching on Kenny’s bed. With a straight movement of his arm through the air, he gives a half-effort bow that reduces the both of them to childish giggles. “Anything for the future queen.”
Kenny can only be grateful that they’re resuming their casual banter. He can feel himself grow more comfortable with his best friend, til he’s wondering what he had to be so worried about in the first place.
Kenny sits himself down criss-cross on his bed, and listens with great interest as Stan details Kevin’s performance during their practice. He can’t pretend to know the first thing about football, but Stan speaks in a way that he’s sure would enthrall even the most detached of aliens touching ground to Earth for the first time. Kenny likes to know how Kevin is, anyway, as he’s been working especially hard on his anger management in order to maintain his spot on the team. Football has made him glow and feel proud in a way his siblings had never seen before.
He’d been held back a few grades, and was in no shape to be a part of the team, despite being quite literally in shape. But, football has been a special interest of his since they were kids. Much like Kenny’s own affiliation for NASCAR, and Karen’s for the arts.
Stan had been over at Kenny’s, shortly after making quarterback and captain, when Kevin had bluntly voiced his jealousy. As Stan had always been plainly average, with painfully average grades, he had come up with the idea of tutoring Kevin. He figured his minimal knowledge on their scholastics could help raise Kevin to a C average, enough to qualify for the team, without being too overwhelming. He’d said it like it was doing nothing more than lending Kevin a pencil.
It was admittedly stupid logic, but it actually worked, and within months Kevin was granted his very own jersey and branding as a South Park Bull. Kenny had never seen Kevin beam with pride like that before, and he’d even hugged Stan, something he knew to mean he really must have trusted him.
Kenny knew he’d already been crushing on Stan by then, but if he could pinpoint it —he might say that had been the very moment he fell in love with him.