Chapter Text
“Hey… you sure you wanna come with us?”
“Yeah, of course I wanna come with you. I don’t have anything better to do.”
“It’ll take a few days,” Kyle warned, staring at the pot of eggs and almost-boiling water. Stan had agreed to go on a road trip to New Jersey with Kyle so he could celebrate the 4th of July with him. The drive there would take two days, and Sheila said they would end up staying in at least one hotel, if not two. Stan was fine with that- he loved the idea of going on a road trip with Kyle for over 48 hours, even if he had to deal with the millions of children Kyle’s family had back home. Kyle’s aunt and uncle- Lana and Caleb- were the ones hosting it. They invited pretty much everyone they could think of, and encouraged them to bring guests. Stan wasn’t sure why anybody would want a million people at their house at one time, but it didn’t matter much to him.
“Don’t care,” Stan said, staring down at the boiling pot. “Deviled eggs?”
Kyle smiled, gently shaking the pot to have something to do while he waited. “Yep. Mom wanted me to make them, you wanna help me?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”
When the eggs were finished boiling, Kyle put them on the counter and invited Stan back to watch TV while he waited for them to cool. Later, the two of them returned to the kitchen. Stan sliced peppers and Kyle peeled the shells from the eggs, but every once in a while Kyle would get an egg that absolutely would not cooperate with him. Stan had to run his hands under the lukewarm water and gently take the egg from him, peeling the bits and pieces away that Kyle had so much trouble with. Kyle would thank him sheepishly each time he did so, his face still reddened with anger at the fact he ruined the soft, silky surface of the egg while trying to get the peel off. Stan would say, no problem, don’t worry, Kyle, just take your time , and they would go back to their routine.
Once, Stan happened to cut his finger while chopping the green peppers. Kyle had nursed the sliced pinky as best he could, washing it and disinfecting it and wrapping it in two layers of Band-Aids so that if his pinky happened to get in the way again, the knife might slice the first layer, or maybe the first two layers, instead of the skin underneath. Kyle had also taken time to get the blood off of the green pepper itself, although both him and Stan agreed that it was probably best to throw it away, as Gerald and Sheila had gone overboard in buying green peppers and they had more than enough to put on the eggs.
Kyle sliced the eggs in half, and Stan took the yellow bits from inside and mixed them together with relish, mayonnaise, and everything else Sheila told them they needed to add. Stan then finished the filling, and they each took a spoon and attempted to fill in the now empty whites, Stan sneaking glances at Kyle whenever he would get particularly frustrated with an egg. He wanted to express his feelings for him or reassure him by saying something snarky like you’re so cute when you’re angry, or chill, Kyle, nobody’s gonna care, they’re gonna end up stuffing it in their mouths whether it looks like shit or not, but decided to keep silent. He didn’t want Kyle to get even angrier.
When the eggs were filled, Kyle put the sliced green peppers on top of the filling, and Stan shook the paprika shaker over the plates.
Sheila entered the kitchen and leaned over the table, glancing at the freshly seasoned eggs. “Aw, they look good, boys! I’m sure Caleb’s kids will love them,” she congratulated as they cleaned up.
-
With his bag finally packed, Stan left his house and shivered in the cold air, reminding himself that soon, he would be somewhere nice and warm- specifically Sparta, New Jersey. An entire two-day road trip with Kyle- no Cartman, no Kenny, and most importantly, no Butters tagging along. Of course, since Stan was coming, Sheila just had to invite Sharon and Randy. And since Sharon and Randy were going, they wanted to bring Shelly along too. Bummer. She was out of college for summer break, and even more intolerable than she was as a middle schooler. At least he wouldn’t have to ride in the same car with the three of them, although he wasn’t sure being with Gerald, Sheila and Ike was much better.
He stood on the porch and banged on the door. Was he early? He assumed everyone would be in the car by now, but it sat there in the driveway, covered in thick layers of snow. Their week of summer had long since passed.
Ike answered the door. Stan had always gone out of his way to be nice to Ike, to not snap back at Ike's smart-assed retorts, but Ike had never exhibited that same niceness in return. Now, Stan avoided him as best he could whenever he went to Kyle's. And Ike, as expected, didn't have a problem with it. His way of ignoring Stan and Kenny had evolved over the years- first it was playing mobile games on his phone, then watching YouTube with no headphones, then hockey games, and last he finally settled on texting his current girlfriend. Stan knew it wouldn’t last more than two months, if that.
“He’s upstairs,” Ike said, letting go of the doorknob and walking off, his phone dangling loosely between his fingers. Stan stepped inside, closing the door behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the warm living room light, he noticed Ike had two bags packed at the foot of the couch. He fidgeted with the strap on his own backpack, wondering if he was underprepared for both the road trip and staying the night with Kyle’s relatives.
“Gerald!” Sheila hissed from somewhere upstairs. “You need to get moving!”
Stan frowned, knowing the two of them would bicker like this the entire time. “I am! I am! God, always up my ass about everything!” Gerald snapped back.
He got lost in thought, staring up the stairs and wondering if he would be better off in a car with his own family where there would be at least one sane adult, when Ike spoke up from the couch. “Can you leave? You’re getting annoying.”
“I didn’t even say- ugh,” Stan muttered, shaking his head and climbing the stairs. There was no point in arguing with Ike. Now eleven years old, he was no more mature than he was in elementary school… just like Shelly.
When he got to the top of the stairs, Kyle’s door was cracked. He pushed it open to see Kyle, sitting on his bed and staring at his phone, with his packed bags sitting around him. Kyle sensed movement, and he looked up to meet Stan’s eyes. “Oh, hey,” he smiled, turning his phone off and setting it on his lap. “You ready to go?”
Nodding, Stan sat down on the edge of the mattress next to him. “Yeah, dude.”
“You have your medicine?”
Stan’s face fell for a brief moment, before remembering that he actually did bring it. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Show me.”
Unzipping the front pocket of his backpack, he fumbled around past chargers and bottles of toothpaste, before he found his bottle of pills. He showed Kyle.
“Okay, okay. Just making sure. What about… uh, your toothbrush? Pajamas? Sunscreen?”
“I don’t burn in the sun,” Stan reminded him. “Yeah. I have everything. If I didn’t, I’d just steal yours anyway,” he smiled and nudged Kyle.
Kyle huffed. “Ew. You are not stealing my toothbrush, dude. And you still need to wear sunscreen, you can get skin cancer, and when you’re older, your skin-”
“Come on, boys! We’re ready to go,” Sheila shouted from the hallway. They exchanged looks and stood up.
-
The first two hours of the road trip were particularly exciting. Stan himself had never been northeast of Colorado before; Randy had taken him to New Mexico and Arizona a few times, but that was all.
They drove through Kansas, Missouri, briefly Illinois and Indiana, and made a pit stop in a small town in Kentucky called Independence.
Stan pressed his cheek against the glass as they pulled into the hotel. Kyle slid an orange bookmark into a thick paperback; the spine was gray, and some man’s pained monochrome face served as the cover. Something pretentious, Stan figured, knowing how Kyle was.
Kentucky, possibly the worst state in the country, was known for having a batshit crazy senator… and not much else.
It was a total shithole.
The five of them slipped into a hotel room as the sun died, and upon seeing the sleeping situation, Ike immediately threw a fit. He didn’t want to sleep with Gerald and Sheila, and when Kyle reluctantly offered his and Stan’s bed, he cried even harder and locked himself in the bathroom for almost forty minutes.
When he came out, Sheila and Gerald were fast asleep, Kyle sat up on the bed still reading his book, and Stan was staring down at the shag carpet, bored. Ike, still rubbed raw and red from crying, unzipped his duffel bag and haphazardly threw a heap of clothes on the floor. He laid down on top of it and sniffled.
Stan stood up and crouched down in front of him. “Are you okay?”
No response. Ike refused to acknowledge him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep with us, Ike? That floor looks really hard. And there’s enough room for you.”
“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, shoving his face into a hoodie underneath him.
Whatever. He’s such a bitch, Stan thought, looking around the clothes on the floor. Ike’s phone laid amongst his clothes. He picked it up and took it to his side of the room. “I’m plugging your phone in.”
“Fine,” Ike snapped, turning over on his side, now facing the wall.
As he plugged it in, he accidentally pressed his thumb on the home button. Ike’s phone unlocked, and various apps appeared on the screen. Stan read the titles. ROBLOX, Clash of Clans, Instagram, Among Us… little kids fucking loved that game, huh? “You have Among Us?” he called. Ike was probably going to bitch at him for unlocking his phone, but it wasn’t really his fault. He should’ve put a passcode on it.
“Yeah,” he admitted, sitting up. Ike stared at Stan from across the room. “You play it?”
I’m getting somewhere with him! Finally. “Yup.” Truth was, Stan didn’t even have the app downloaded, but it probably wasn’t hard to learn. “Hey, do you wanna play a game with me?”
Kyle looked away from the pages of his book and at Stan. He noticed this from the corner of his eye, but didn’t say anything as Ike enthusiastically climbed onto their bed and reached for his phone. “Yeah! Hey, once Preston and I were playing it during lunch, and he got impostor, and I ran to the emergency button to tell everyone. I pressed it, but he killed me at the same time, so I couldn’t say anything during the meeting!” he explained, opening the game as Stan gave him his phone back.
Stan smiled and nodded, setting up the game as Ike continued rambling, talking about the times he won or lost or whatever. Ike made a lobby, he joined, and the two of them played round after round. The game wasn’t hard to grasp, though Stan had a little trouble with the tasks.
He let Ike win and covered his ass whenever he was impostor. Hours later, Ike grew sleepy and stole one of Stan’s pillows, falling asleep with his head at the bottom of the bed and his feet up near the headboard.
Stan stole Ike’s phone again, plugged it in, and laid down. He likes me now, he victoriously thought to himself, rolling on his side and staring at the back of Gerald’s head from across the room.
Intrigued, Kyle slid his bookmark into the crease of the book and closed it, turning the light off.
He laid down.