Work Text:
Stan sat in the Broflovski’s driveway, staring down at his phone with an anxiety significantly worse than it should have been for the situation at hand.
The minutes ticked down as he waited fruitlessly. 7:10. 7:11. 7:12. And still, no sign of Kyle, not even a text to let him know if he was okay. Stan always drove him to school in the mornings, since Kyle hadn’t gotten his license yet and they both despised riding the bus, and he had never been this late before.
Stan shouldn’t have been as worried as he was. He should have had the emotional intelligence to know that unexpected things happen sometimes— he wasn’t Tweek for god's sake. Kyle simply could have overslept, forgotten to text him, gotten into an argument with Ike and lost track of time, or any number of things, really.
But Kyle was Kyle. Stupid, overprepared, never late for anything in his life, willingly wakes up at 5am because ‘it’s relaxing,’ Kyle. And to have not gotten any sign that he was even alive was very atypical, enough so to cause him more stress than he was willing to admit.
7:13. 7:14 7:15. They were going to be late if this kept up, not that Stan really cared. Obviously it wasn’t ideal, but it was the absolute the last thing on his mind at the moment compared to making sure Kyle was, well, alive. As the old, crusty, somehow still-functional clock on his dashboard hit 7:16, Stan decided to get out and investigate. He stepped out of the car and quietly knocked on the door to the Broflovski household. No response. He knocked louder. No response. He banged on the door like his life depended on it. No response.
Okay, cool. Now he was actually becoming Tweek levels of worried, and he didn’t like the feeling one bit. He didn’t particularly enjoy doing this, but Stan reached for the small silver key in his pocket. Both he and Kyle had decided to get each other keys to each other’s houses, for use in emergencies only. Or when the other was too lazy to unlock the door. Or when Kyle broke into his house to ask for the last of his cheesy poofs. Okay, they had been very loose on the definition of ‘emergency,’ but still, it made Stan uneasy to just enter his house without permission. But he pressed forward, deciding that a breaking and entering charge was more than worth it to make sure his boyfriend was alright.
“Kyle?” Stan called out as soon as the door shut behind him. He heard a pained groan come from upstairs which, although technically a response, didn’t make him feel any less tense. He rushed up the stairs to Kyle’s door as quickly as he could, absolutely hating the awful suspense he felt as he did so. “Can I, uh, come in?” Stan’s hand was already on the door knob, planning to open it if he didn’t receive a response in the next millisecond, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.
“Mhm.” Kyle’s response was quiet, and pain was already evident in his voice. Stan couldn’t have opened the door fast enough, swinging it open to reveal Kyle slouched over on his bed. And didn’t seem to be doing so well from the looks of it, either. His body was contorted in a way that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, he was underneath at least three blankets from what Stan could see, and he was making wheezing sounds every time he tried to take a breath. Stan was suddenly even more glad he’d decided to check in on him.
“Hi.” Kyle mumbled, a drowsy smile curling on his lips, before quickly losing it as he fell into a coughing fit. “I’m not going to school today, uh, obviously, so you can leave if you want. I don’t wanna make you late.”
“Dude, seriously?” Stan walked up to Kyle and took a seat next to him on his bed. “You think I’m going to just leave you here? You look…” Wow, he looked even worse up close. His normally well-kept curls were an unruly mess across his face, his bright green eyes had so little life in them that it pained Stan to look at, and his face was paled even more so than normal. He looked absolutely miserable like this, and it was a horrible sight he wouldn’t wish on anyone. “You look awful.” He finished after a few seconds of soaking in the extremely unpleasant sight in front of him.
“Thanks,” Kyle replied sarcastically. Or as sarcastically as he could manage with his breathless, congested voice that was. At the very least, he was well enough to be his typical bitter self.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Kyle coughed again, a loud, dry cough that just had to have been painful. Stan wasn’t sure he’d seen his boyfriend this sick since they were kids, and he certainly didn’t enjoy it.
“I mean, you broke into my house and then immediately called me ugly. Maybe you did mean it like that.” Kyle tried and failed to hide the massive, smug grin on his face. Stan hated the way something as stupid as that, which he’d seen a million times before because Kyle was a sarcastic little bastard, made his heart skip a beat the way it did.
“Well, seeing you look like you got hit by a train isn’t exactly pretty.” He moved in closer to Kyle, and moved a curl out of his face.
“Sorry. Next time I’m dying I’ll make sure I look good enough for your satisfaction.” Kyle smiled at him. It was faint, but still the sweet smile Stan had accustomed himself to. He took in the sight, a smile tugging at his own lips. Yep, this had definitely been worth missing school for. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss to the top of Kyle’s forehead, still feeling the fluttery feeling in his heart that he always did despite him having done this many times before, but Kyle abruptly jerked away.
“Damnit.” He whispered to himself through pained, sharp breaths. “Not again.” His face lost even more of its color as he leaned over the edge of the bed and entered another coughing fit, this one significantly worse than the last. He clutched his chest as he breathed, clearly in pain that Stan didn’t even want to think about. The worst part was that he couldn’t do anything, and was forced to just watch as his boyfriend hacked up a lung. Thankfully it didn’t last all that long before Kyle’s breathing evened out, but it was still an awful experience for the both of them.
“Dude, this is worse than I thought. What happened? Are you okay?” He grabbed Kyle’s hand and squeezed tightly. He looked at him with an exhausted expression and rolled over on his side.
“Well, I woke up with what I thought was a sore throat. So I tried to walk to the bathroom to grab some cold medicine, except as soon as I stood up it was so painful to breathe that I immediately fell on the floor and almost threw up. And I laid there for fifteen minutes because I was so short of breath that I couldn’t imagine standing back up. Then Ike came in, laughed at me, and left. And that made me so mad that I forced myself to get back into bed. Then I almost threw up again. And I wanted to text you and say not to pick me up today, but my phone is on the other side of my room. I do love you, but I love having a functioning pair of lungs a little more, hope that’s not a dealbreaker. So I’ve just been laying here in pain for about… hell, what time even is it?” He rolled back over to face Stan, a small, forced, dorky grin plastered across his face. “So I’m wonderful, how are you?” Stan immediately stood up from the bed, prepared to get whatever he needed to make his boyfriend feel at least the slightest bit better.
“What do you want me to get?” Stan looked down at his phone to check the time and, oh . It was 7:26 already. The bell was going to ring in four minutes, and Stan didn’t even have the slightest intention of leaving. He shrugged internally— it was senior year, half of his first period class never bothered to even show up. He deserved one little ditch day, for Kyle’s sake. There was no way in hell he was telling Kyle that, though— he was pretty sure his boyfriend cared more about his school attendance than his parents did, and there was no way he’d let him stay here if he found out the time.
Unfortunately, he didn’t account for the fact that Kyle was sitting right behind him, and that one of his symptoms wasn’t being completely blind.
“It’s 7:26 already? The hell are you still doing here?” And there it was. Even on his deathbed, Kyle was still just as much of a worry wart as he always had been.
“Trying to make sure you’re not going to die if I leave.” He merely scoffed at him.
“You need to go to school. I’ll be fine.” As if his argument wasn’t unconvincing enough already, Kyle fell into another coughing fit as soon as the words left his mouth.
“And you literally can’t stand. Or breathe, apparently. And it really doesn’t look like you’re in a position to stop me.” He looked like he was about to argue back, his emerald eyes shifting back and forth as he tried to think of something to say, but wound up giving in rather quickly.
“Fine. But don’t be mad at me if your parents kill you. Or if my parents kill you.” Stan rolled his eyes playfully.
“Okay, asshole, now what do you need me to get for you?” Kyle thought for a minute, then replied.
“There should be a box of cold medicine in the cabinet in the bathroom. I don’t remember what it’s called, but it has a blue box. And a glass of water would be nice.” Stan turned around to go grab what he needed, but certainly didn’t miss the mumbled, breathless, “Thank you, I love you.” That came from Kyle’s mouth.
“I love you too.” Stan pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, actually managing to do it this time, and Kyle smiled brighter than he had all morning. Even when this sick, he still managed to be breathtakingly adorable. It was absolutely not fair. As much as he didn’t want to leave Kyle’s side and simply stare into his (now much more lively) green eyes forever, he figured that making sure his boyfriend didn’t die in his presence was more important. He walked to the bathroom across the hall and began to rummage through the medicine cabinet, shocked at the sheer amount of things in there. He knew Sheila was a protective parent, but this was a little much, even for her. Since the description of ‘blue box’ didn’t necessarily help him, considering that this cabinet had enough medicine to supply a hospital, Stan was forced to read the description of each box to find the one Kyle needed. Eye drops, nasal allergy spray, anti-anxiety medication, oh, cold medicine, that should be it. ‘Good for sore throat and dry cough,’ perfect. Stan grabbed the box, made his way downstairs to the kitchen, and filled up a glass with ice water. Then he rushed back up to Kyle’s room, perhaps a bit quicker than he should have.
“Here.” Stan set the water down on his nightstand, and handed him the box of medicine. He downed the glass of water like his life depended on it, then dry swallowed the pill inside the box like a monster. Deciding for once to spare Kyle from a petty argument, Stan instead sat down next to him and smiled. It didn’t take long for him to come to the realization that he liked caring for Kyle like this, more so than he felt he should have. Stan reached out his hand, and Kyle took it into his own graciously, interlocking their fingers.
“Thanks dude, seriously.” He tried to hide it, but a very faint blush stretched across Kyle’s cheeks. It was cute how he still got embarrassed like this, even though they had been dating for nearly a year by this point. The pink on his cheeks also could have simply been from his illness, but Stan preferred to think of it as the former.
“It’s no problem, I hope you feel better.” He climbed into bed next to Kyle, close enough for the two of them to share body heat. He was warm, more than was probably healthy, and Stan decided the solution to this was to steal one of the thousand blankets he had layered over himself.
“Wh— Fuck you, give that back!” The two wrestled over the stupid blanket, bouts of childish laughter filling both of them. It reminded Stan of when they were children, of the times he had tried to deny his painfully blatant feelings for his best friend. If you would have told little eight year old Stan that by his senior year of high school he’d be approaching his one year anniversary with Kyle Broflovski, he would have laughed in your face. But that was the reality he found himself in, and he couldn’t have been happier.
“I hate you.” Kyle eventually forfeit the blanket fight, and Stan pulled the blanket over himself as a medal of honor.
“I love you too.” Kyle leaned onto his shoulder, burying himself into his neck as a pillow. Stan reflexively ran a finger through his curls, and Kyle smiled with content. “Do you know what time your parents get home, by the way?” He tried to be subtle with his question, hoping Kyle wouldn’t catch on to his plan.
“Uhh, around noon I think. Why?” He clearly hadn’t been subtle enough, because immediately after the words left his mouth, Kyle saw through him. “ No, you’re not staying here until they get home. You’re late enough already, you’re not missing the whole day because of me.” Stan knew he shouldn’t add fuel to the fire, because a pissed off Kyle was not fun to deal with, but he couldn’t help himself.
“What're you gonna do, cough on me until I leave?” Stan laughed. Kyle didn’t.
“Don’t test me, asshole. I can and will push you out of this bed.” It was really, really hard to take him seriously with his head nuzzled into his neck like it was.
“No you won’t.” He responded nonchalantly.
“No I won’t.” Kyle admitted with a sigh. “But as soon as I can actually stand, I will beat the shit out of you.” Wow, angry Kyle was actually pretty cute when his threats were empty like this. He should tease him more often.
“You won’t do that either. You love me too much.” Stan pressed another kiss to his forehead. “I’m not leaving until I have to. I don’t like the thought of just leaving you here all sick like this.” That was a large majority of the reason, but Stan was willing to admit he was simply enjoying Kyle’s presence too much to leave.
“Well, since you’re so worried about me…” Oh boy. “You could go get me some tea.” Stan would’ve been annoyed, had his silly smirk not been so adorable.
“You want me to fluff your pillow too, princess?” It was supposed to be a mocking joke, one Stan fully expected to get elbowed in the side for, but he didn’t get the response he expected. Instead, his eyes widened, and a slightly more noticeable flush spread across his cheeks. Did he actually like that nickname? Wonderful— more things to tease him about. Stan reluctantly separated their hands from one another and began to get up to go make Kyle’s stupid tea, (Seriously, who actually drinks tea? Gross.) but was stopped before he could do so.
“Wait,” he mumbled. “I changed my mind, stay here.” In what Stan assumed to be an effort to convince him, Kyle pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. It worked immediately.
“Good to know I’m more important to you than tea.” Stan was just happy that he didn’t have to get up. Because, even though it would only be for a few minutes, he really didn’t want to leave Kyle’s side. His boyfriend had turned him into a complete sap, and he was powerless to do anything about it.
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“I would push you if you weren’t dying right now.” Kyle laughed, adorable as always. “Can you hand me the TV remote? Since we’re stuck here, we might as well watch something.” He handed him the remote, and they started to flick through the channels together.
“Technically, I’m the only one stuck here. You can leave whenever you want.” Reality TV, children’s cartoons, cooking shows. Wow, nothing good was never on in the morning.
“Nope. If you’re stuck here, so am I. We’re a package deal.” Kyle seemed content with that response, and they continued fruitlessly scrolling through the progressively worse and worse TV channels. It got to the point where they were about ready to give up and do something else, until a familiar pair of faces came on their screens.
“They’re still making Terrance and Phillip episodes!?” Stan had the exact same response. “I thought they canceled that while we were in middle school.”
“Apparently not.” The two watched as one of the least funny jokes they had ever had the displeasure of viewing flashed across the screen. It was so unfunny that they had to laugh.
“…Wanna see if this holds up from when we were kids?”
“Oh, absolutely.” And Kyle nuzzled himself further into Stan’s neck, a look of pure elation stretched across his face. Stan’s phone lit up with a notification that he had been marked absent for first period, but he couldn’t muster up a single care. Because this was infinitely more important, and he was sure anyone else in his situation would agree.