Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stan hated the smell of chlorine.

He’d learnt once that it wasn’t actually the smell of the chemical, but the smell of the chemical reacting with whatever dirt it came into contact with. In an outdoor public pool, that was a lot of kid pee and probably bird shit too.

Stan didn’t consider himself a germaphobe, but that was just gross.

Unfortunately he left it too late to get a summer job and the only place that was hiring was the pool complex. They needed someone to sell snacks, so at least he wasn’t going to be exposed to the sun or forced to dive in the germ soup to save some drowning kid. He almost pitied the lifeguard, whoever they were.

He’d been hired the second he applied, no need for an interview. His mom found that weird and voiced her concern but Stan ignored her and now here he was for his first day. The owner was an elderly man who looked at Stan like he was a little demon or something. He got that reaction a lot; it was sort of satisfying.

"You’re Stanley Marsh?" he asked.

Stan nodded. "Raven."

"Sorry?"

"People call me Raven."

"Sure thing kid. Name’s Wayne." He stuck out a sun worn wrinkly hand and Stan shook it. His grip was surprisingly strong.

"So… I’m just gonna be selling ice cream and drinks and stuff right?"

Wayne nodded. "Pretty much. It ain’t particularly exciting I know, but it’s easy. Come on, let me give you the grand tour."

The pool was pretty much how Stan remembered it from when he was a kid, which was to say sort of pathetic. It was nothing fancy, but he supposed it got the job done. The snack stand was a little hut with a counter he could sit behind and an open front. It was pretty small but not claustrophobic.

"That’s about it," Wayne concluded. "I don’t know how busy you’ll be, we’ve been closed for a while. Lifeguard quit, it was a whole mess."

Stan smiled sympathetically. He actually did feel bad. Wayne was a nice man, and he actually called Stan his goth name which was a pleasant surprise. Most adults refused.

"I’ve got a new guy starting today though," Wayne continued, brightening a little. "He’s about your age actually, maybe you two know each other."

Stan shrugged but sincerely and with his whole being hoped that wasn’t the case. He just wanted some easy cash to get him through the summer, and maybe to get a Get Out Of South Park fund going, and he did not need to hang out with any of the annoying conformists he went to school with. He did enough of that during term time.

He didn’t think it was asking for much, yet all his hopes and dreams came shattering down around him like a cheap pearl necklace, because Kenny McCormick walked into the complex.

Stan didn’t even try and delude himself into thinking Kenny was just there for a fun day at the pool, because nobody in their right mind wanted to do that. The place was grimy, only acceptable if you were a truly desperate parent looking for something to distract your kids while they were off school. That, and Kenny had probably worked every other job in town by now. Stan had seen him in Wall-Mart, Tweak Bros, even briefly in Red Robin of all places. It was about time he got into lifeguarding.

"Hey Wayne," he said brightly, like he was already well acquainted with a man. Stan supposed it was a good thing they’d more thoroughly vetted the guy in charge of saving lives. Kenny glanced at Stan. "Hi Stan."

"It’s Raven," he said.

Kenny looked him up and down. "Yeah I’m not calling you that."

Stan grit his teeth but didn’t argue. It was hard to, when he didn’t even think of himself as Raven in his own head. He blamed his mom, and her insistence that she’d given him a beautiful name. Stan was not a beautiful name it was a boring name, and he’d been a boring conformist when he used it, but she wouldn’t hear it and now it stuck, like a popcorn kernel in his teeth.

He was dismissed to go do his mind numbingly easy job whilst Wayne showed Kenny around. Then they both left and Stan was left to his own devices for a few blissful moments, before Kenny came back out in bright red swimming trunks. To Stan’s absolute horror, he came up to the snack shack and draped himself over the counter with a lazy grin.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said.

Stan scowled and didn’t say anything, pretending he was super invested in organising the little fridge they kept drinks in. Kenny didn’t seem put off however and shuffled a little closer.

"You know I was gonna ask how you’ve been but you’d probably answer in some Edgar Allen Poe fucking riddle or something right?"

Stan straightened up and glared at him. "Edgar Allen Poe did not write riddles."

"I wouldn’t know."

"Typical," Stan scoffed.

Kenny sighed dramatically. "Come on give me something to work with here."

Stan worked a muscle in his jaw. "Why? We don’t have to talk you know."

Kenny frowned. "Jesus who pissed in your cereal? Why’re you being so mean?"

Stan faltered. He wasn’t sure why. Yes Kenny was a conformist, but it wasn’t like he was the quarterback, Justin Bieber wannabe type. He was kind of weird in his own way.

Maybe it was just easier to be mean than acknowledge the fact that they hadn’t talked since they were eleven years old and threw away years of friendship.

"We can be civil," Stan conceded.

Kenny looked down and nodded. "Sure. Civil. Whatever. Just don’t fuck this up for me, I need this job."

Stan was honestly offended by the idea he’d be the one to do the fucking up, until he remembered that Kenny was usually a somewhat unwilling participant in a lot of their childhood shenanigans and he didn’t really have the right.

"City Wok doesn’t pay well then?" he asked after a moment. Kenny still worked there, he delivered to Stan’s mom’s house earlier that week.

Kenny looked up. "What do you think?" He didn’t even say it in a mean way, but rather like he actually wanted Stan’s opinion.

"I guess not," Stan mumbled.

Kenny smirked a little and leant back against the counter. "What about you? I thought you burned in the sun, so why’d you choose this job?"

"What are you— Oh. Very funny."

Kenny grinned and lifted a shoulder into a shrug, so laconic and amused it was mildly infuriating.

"You know I’m a goth not one of those poser vamp kids who only pretend to sparkle in the sun or whatever," Stan said after a moment.

"Preaching to the choir dude, you know I hate the vamps. And I love me a goth chick." Kenny glanced at him. "Or not chick."

Stan narrowed his eyes. "I really don’t wanna know about your fantasies regarding my friends."

"Suit yourself."

Kenny reached over the counter and swiped a can of Coke. He maintained vaguely uncomfortable eye contact with Stan as he cracked it open and took a long sip. Stan glanced away; he’d never really been a fan of eye contact.

"It’s flat," Kenny announced. Stan looked up to see him already walking away to sit in the lifeguard’s chair.

"Hey don’t complain about quality of freebies!" Stan yelled back.

Kenny looked over his shoulder and smirked before sliding his sunglasses down and turning away again. Stan watched his back for maybe a little bit too long before sinking down in his chair and thanking God that apparently nobody wanted to spend their Sunday at the outdoor pool complex.

Hell, he didn’t want to spend his Sundays, or his Fridays or Wednesdays or Mondays for that matter, at the fucking outdoor pool complex, and really it just said a lot that it was a better option than working with his own father.

He just had to get through this summer, and then he could be rid of the smell of chlorine and weird blonde childhood friends for good.

~*~

The pool closed late on Fridays, which irritated Stan to no end. This was firstly because nobody actually wanted to stay at the outdoor pool after dark, and secondly because it meant more time with Kenny.

Civil was going well, but it was undeniably awkward. Mostly they kept themselves to themselves, but when they did have to interact it felt… stilted. It was hard to believe they used to be so close.

"Did you lock up?" Stan asked without looking up when Kenny came out from the changing rooms. He was now wearing his signature parka and some torn up jeans. Stan wondered for a moment how he wasn’t hot in the still sticky humidity, but then realised he didn’t care.

Kenny nodded and threw Stan the keys. "See you Sunday," he announced before sauntering towards the gate.

Stan rolled his eyes and followed him, clearly not paying much attention because he soon collided with Kenny’s back.

"Hey watch it!" he snapped. Kenny didn’t respond with a bite like he usually would, instead staying stock still and staring just out the gate.

Stan looked up to see two men, college aged, approaching. They looked like football players and by that Stan meant huge.

"Yeah that’s McCormick," one of them said. "Grab him."

"Shit," Kenny muttered. He shoved Stan. "Go, just go."

"Will you—"

"I said go!"

He forcibly pushed Stan around the corner of the building and started to follow, but he wasn’t quick enough. One of the guys grabbed him and lifted him clean off the ground with ease; Kenny always had been short and scrawny, but Stan half expected it to be a little harder than that.

If he squinted, he thought he might’ve recognised them. They were a couple years older than Stan, but they definitely went to South Park High. In fact one of them, Henry, loved to make fun of Stan and his friends. The other, the one who’d grabbed Kenny, wasn’t familiar on a closer look so he must’ve been a new friend from college.

"We’ve got a bone to pick with you," Henry sneered at Kenny.

"Oh yeah? Get in line," he replied. Stan rolled his eyes. Was he incapable of being serious?

"First off I wanna talk about those fucking mushrooms you gave me and Asher," Henry continued.

Stan’s eyes went wide. Of fucking course Kenny was a drug dealer. He really shouldn’t be surprised. It fit with his whole vibe pretty well.

"I don’t know what the fuck you put in them man, but they weren’t fucking right," Asher snapped, shaking Kenny a little.

Kenny looked a little nervous now. "Oh no."

"Oh yes. And that weed you gave my little brother? That was fucking shit too," Henry snapped. "We want our money back."

Stan frowned. If his memory served correctly, Henry’s brother would only be a freshman. That didn’t sound like Kenny.

And yet, the mention of it had made him very visibly nervous. He laughed but it was shaky. "Right. See I’m not super liquid right now—"

"I’ll show you liquid," Asher growled.

In an instant he adjusted his grip so he had Kenny by the collar, dangling him over the pool. The ends of his hair were already dragging in the chlorinated water.

"Woah woah woah! Look I’ve kind of had a lucky streak lately vis a vis the whole staying alive thing," Kenny said, voice all pitchy with panic, "and I’ve kinda gotten used to it so I’d really appreciate it if you’d—"

Kenny was cut off when they dunked his head underwater, causing Stan to flinch bodily from his hiding place. They kept Kenny under long enough that he was coughing and spluttering up water when they pulled him up and Stan realised, with a sensation like ice down his spine, that the bastards were going to kill Kenny.

He decided it was very important he didn’t let that happen. Maybe he was making up for lost time.

He snuck into the main office and sunk down into the seat, using his phone light to see the huge panel in front of him. Then he flicked on the CCTV, and saw they had Kenny underwater again. He waited until they brought him up and flicked on the huge overheard lights outside.

It was almost funny, how the college guys tensed up immediately. Kenny was smiling, clear even on the fuzzy camera.

Stan pulled the intercom over and turned it on. "Henry…" he whispered close the microphone.

The only thing he remembered about Henry, other than the fact he was the worst, was that he had a dead dad. Maybe it was a low blow, but they were actively trying to drown his friend.

Not friend. His… Kenny. Whatever.

"Why would you do this, son?" he crooned. "What would your poor mother think? We always taught you to be forgiving… To be kind… But this!"

He slammed the light switch off, plunging the whole place into darkness, and slowly padded outside. He moved as quietly as possible, thankful that he blended into the darkness easily thanks to his dark clothes, and grabbed onto Asher’s shoulders without really thinking.

"Boo," he whispered.

There was a splash as Kenny was dropped into the pool, almost drowned out by two grown college aged men screaming. Stan stepped back around a corner and watched them head for the gate.

Pathetic.

As soon as they were gone Stan turned his phone’s torch on and rushed over to find Kenny  just breaking the surface of the water. He looked like he was struggling thanks to his clothes weighing him down or just the shock of it all, so Stan rushed over to pull him out.

"Are you okay?"

Kenny flopped, face first on the tiles, whole body shaking with what Stan realised was laughter. Kenny pushed himself up to his feet but kept a tight grip on Stan’s arm, possibly just to keep himself upright.

"Did you seriously fake a haunting? That’s so corny, I can’t believe it worked."

"You could thank me," Stan muttered, pushing him off. "Or tell me why you never mentioned you’re Pablo Goddamn Escobar."

"I didn’t think it was relevant."

"You didn’t think— Kenny come on," Stan said exasperatedly.

"Cut me some slack, your dad literally owns a weed farm," Kenny snapped. A low blow and he looked like he recognised that too. He didn’t back down though.

"My dad’s a dick but he doesn’t sell to fucking freshmen."

"You believe what those guys said?"

"Well did you?"

"No!" Kenny yelled. "Jesus Stan, I gave the kid fucking Italian seasoning in a baggie. He asked if I took contactless payments, what did you want me to do? Give him hard drugs?"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Oh praise thee Saint Kenneth, for not giving a fourteen year old drugs and just seriously scamming him instead. Your generosity is fucking astounding, humbling even."

Kenny glared up at him and shivered as a breeze blew past. His hair and coat were still dripping on the tile. "Whatever. I do what I need to do to put food on my sister’s plate, I won’t apologise for it. And if it makes you feel better, Stanley, I actually did give these bozos exactly what they asked me for. They must’ve had a bad trip. That’s not my problem. And you know what? None of this is yours, either."

And with that, Kenny stalked off leaving Stan feeling like his world had just been knocked off of its axis a little bit.

This was why he didn’t hang out with fucking conformists anymore.

~*~

Stan wasn’t really meant to be on his phone. It was so conformist to be a slave to a little black box that dictated the trends. And he just wasn’t meant to use it at work.

Technically he wasn’t on the clock though. His dad had dropped him off early, because God forbid anything inconvenience Randy Marsh, and Stan had just been sat in the snack stand for the better part of an hour now. He should’ve brought a book, but he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to keep his eyes open long enough to read it, let alone absorb it.

They did sell coffee, but Stan had taken one look at the thick, mud-like substance, and decided no. He’d rather pass out.

And so, due to his sleep deprived and distracted state, he didn’t notice a paper cup being set down on the counter in front of him, and only looked up when he heard a throat being cleared.

Kenny was stood there, with his stupid round sunglasses on. They were huge and covered half his face and he seemed to have formed an emotional attachment to them this summer because Stan rarely saw him without them.

"Black," he said, pushing the cup towards Stan. "The way you like it."

It actually wasn’t. Stan always snuck sugar and creamer into it whenever he could. Kenny wasn’t to know that though.

Stan took the cup and looked at Kenny, waiting for him to talk. Kenny seemed to be doing the same, leaving them in a weird staring contest.

He was the first to crack, leaving Stan feeling a little victorious. "I owe you an apology I guess," he mumbled, sticking his hands into the pockets of his swim shorts and looking away, even though Stan already couldn’t see his face thanks to those shades.

"Oh do you really?"

"Yeah. I would’ve been fish food without you so… thanks. And sorry for yelling at you."

Stan looked him up and down, then sighed. "I guess I yelled at you first."

"I guess I deserved it." Kenny looked down and rocked back on his heels. "Look dude I don’t know what goths believe in, Satan or whatever, but I like to think fate exists."

Stan swallowed the coffee, which was actually better than expected, and frowned. "Uh… huh?"

"And I like to think maybe it’s fate we both got jobs here. Like we’re meant to be friends again."

Stan stared at Kenny for a moment, before standing up and folding his arms over his chest. "I do not believe  in fate," he said firmly. Then he sighed. "But if you wanna… I don’t know, bother me at work or whatever, then I can’t stop you, can I?"

Kenny grinned and Stan felt any annoyance just melt away. Jesus. This guy was like… buttered toast. Homey and warm and Stan forgot how much he liked him until he spent time with him again.

Yeah. Kenny was buttered toast. That definitely made perfect sense, Jesus Christ. Clearly he was spending too much time in the sun.

"No you cannot," Kenny said. "I’ve gotta go save lives or whatever but I’ll come bother you later, how about that?"

"Looking forward to it," Stan said, dry as ever but he wasn’t totally lying this time.

~*~

Kenny stuck to his word. Every single shift he’d have something to stay to Stan when he saw him. A fun fact, his favourites seemed to be about animals, or small talk about the weather. Then, on a very slow Wednesday, he made his way down from his stupid lifeguard chair and sat, soggy trunks and all, on the counter. He rested his sunglasses on his head, leant back on his palms and flashed Stan a brilliant grin.

"You look bored," he said.

"This isn’t my idea of fun."

"Well you know what they say about work and play," Kenny said absently, swinging his legs. "What is your idea of fun then?"

Stan frowned. He honestly wasn’t sure. "Don’t know," he admitted. "Not this."

"Well what do you do with your friends? Other than, and I can only assume of course, Pet Semetary like shenanigans."

Stan smirked despite himself. "We just listen to music and smoke mostly. Sometimes Michael drives us out to Denver and we go to the goth clubs but that’s only when his dad lets him use the car."

"Sounds absolutely riveting."

"Don’t knock it until you try it or whatever."

"Yeah well—" Kenny cut himself off suddenly and leant forward. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear wha—"

Kenny shushed him and Stan scowled but fell silent. Then he heard it too; a low whining coming from just behind the pool complex.

"Oh shit," Kenny muttered. "Shit."

"What?" Stan craned his neck to try and see what Kenny was seeing.

"Over there." He pointed. "I think—"

"That’s a dog," Stan said once his eyes adjusted. He jumped over the counter and started speed walking over to the chainlink fence by the building.

He could hear Kenny close behind him but he was solely focussed on the dog stuck in the fence. It was a fairly skinny little thing, obviously a stray, and looked like some kind of Doberman mix from what Stan could tell. Her head had gotten stuck in the fence and the poor dog was terrified.

"Shit what do we do?" Kenny asked, crouching down beside Stan.

Stan swallowed. "I— I don’t know."

Kenny bit his lip. "There’s a pair of bolt cutters in the store room, I can use them but you should probably go around to her side and keep her calm."

"Good idea," Stan said. He reached out and stroked the dog’s nose. "Don’t worry, okay? We’re gonna help."

He hurried around to the other side of the chainlink and sat beside the dog, a hand on her neck to keep her steady. Kenny was all ready with the bolt cutters and looked up at Stan seriously.

"Just keep her still, alright?"

Stan nodded. "Be careful."

"Oh yeah, here I was thinking I’d be reckless," Kenny mumbled under his breath.

Stan scowled at him and held the dog like he remembered the vet holding Sparky to give him his vaccinations. The poor dog shook in his arms and Stan ran a hand down her spine.

"It’s okay gorgeous," he murmured. "You’re doing so well."

Kenny was quick with the bolt cutters, and soon the dog was curled up in Stan’s lap and licking at his face to show her gratitude. Stan grinned and scratched her head, relief swelling in his chest.

"You’re a good girl," he said. "Such a good girl."

He earned another lick in response.

Kenny laughed and Stan looked up at him. "What?"

"You do care," he said. "There is a heart in there. I was getting worried, I thought they’d replaced it with a pentagram or something around fifth grade."

Stan sighed. "It’s a dog dude."

"You always did like animals and the environment and all that crap."

"Whatever."

"Hey don’t get all goth about it. It’s cute, seriously. I’m glad the Stan I know isn’t completely gone."

Kenny smiled wide, and Stan could see the missing tooth near the back on the left side of his jaw. He’d lost it in a tree climbing accident when they were kids. Stan remembered holding an ice pack to his face as blood poured out of his mouth and Kyle fretted about how much trouble they were going to get in. Cartman had been laughing. Kenny had been too.

Aside from the missing one, Kenny still had crooked teeth and a gap between the front two. His smile hadn’t changed since they were kids. It was… nice.

Stan found himself smiling too. "You’re not all that different either. I guess I’m glad about that too."

Kenny held his gaze for a moment before looking at the dog and laughing breathily. "Dude we just saved a dog. That’s like superhero shit."

Stan rolled his eyes, but deep down he did feel sort of heroic.

~*~

After that event, Stan almost looked forward to seeing Kenny at work every other day. He wouldn’t say it was the highlight of his life, because the job still sucked. Most of the customers were children who’d hand over sticky incorrect change, or middle aged mothers with sunburns and a generally overwhelmed air about them who’d usually take their frustrations out on Stan.

But Kenny made it a bit better. It was nice being friends with him again, if only to have someone to share commiserating glances with.

Kenny’s lifeguarding gig seemed even slower than Stan’s role at the snack shack. It was two weeks after the dog incident before he got any action.

June was reaching its peak and brought with it the most oppressive heat Stan could remember. He was burning up in his black clothes, even if he wore the thinnest shirt and shorts he owned, and the makeup was melting off of his face. He was at the point of wearing flip flops , which was a cardinal sin in his book. Mostly he was jealous of Kenny, all shirtless and showing off his stupid belly button ring with a little umbrella above his chair and his big fuck off sunglasses. With the golden blonde hair and warm tan skin, he looked the very picture of summer.

If it was anyone but Kenny, Stan would probably join the moms and preteens who ogled at him. The sunny weather suited him well and he seemed pretty in his element, blowing whistles at kids who were running or whatever it was he did up there. But it was Kenny, so all Stan could feel when he looked at him was mild annoyance due to his own misery.

All of a sudden he heard a loud splash, and looked over in time to see Kenny jumping into the pool, and emerging with a small, dark haired boy in his arms. He looked like a kindergartener, and he wasn’t wearing any kind of arm band or floatie.

Kenny heaved the kid out of the pool and climbed out after, then crouched down to his level, speaking in hushed tones. Then he stood up, took the boy’s hand, and walked him in Stan’s direction.

"Conner!" A little girl came speeding across the tiles, a Transformers themed towel in her hands. She couldn’t have been much older than the boy, her brother Stan assumed. She looked to be ten at the very most. She wrapped the boy up in the towel and bent down to his level, hurriedly checking him over.

Kenny put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, are you his… sister?"

"Yes! God, I’m so sorry, I know I should’ve been watching him but—"

"Kid, it’s fine. Where’s your parent?"

The girl’s bottom lip wavered. "I— I don’t know. She left to take a phone call a few minutes ago."

"Why don’t you two come sit here with me?" Stan asked, gaining the attention of both kids and Kenny. "I’ll get you some snacks and when your mom comes back you can go with her."

Kenny smiled gratefully. "Yeah that’s a good idea. Go sit with Stan. I promise he’s not as scary as he looks."

He ushered the kids over and mouthed a thank you before going back to work. Stan smiled and helped the kids over the counter, then watched them both pile onto the plastic chair.

"So you’re Conner right?" he asked the boy.

He nodded. "Uh huh. With an E."

"Conner with an E, got it. And you’re..?"

"Kara," the girl said. She smiled slightly. "With a K."

"Nice to meet you Kara with a K. I’m Stan with… an S, I guess, anyway what do you wanna drink? I’ve got lemonade, coke, Dr Pepper if you’re cool…"

The kids were easily occupied with sugar and Kenny checked in periodically. He was obviously worried, and Stan was increasingly so as the clock ticked by with no sign of their parent. Just as Stan was wondering what the number for social services was, an artificially blonde woman pushed through the gate and both kids were up on their feet.

"Mommy!" Conner yelled.

They ran over to their mom and Kenny was over in an instant, one hand on each of their shoulders. "You’re their mom?"

She eyed Kenny like he was dirt on her shoe. "What’s it to you?"

"Conner fell in the pool."

The woman scoffed. "Ugh. Kara, I told you to watch your brother, how many—"

"Hey hey hey," Kenny interrupted. "She’s, what, nine? Ten maybe?"

"Nine," Kara murmured.

"Yeah she’s nine. She’s a kid herself."

"So? I was literally taking a phone call, she’s old enough, she can watch him for a while."

"You should watch your kids," Kenny snapped. "He could’ve drowned, he could’ve died ."

"Well that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?" the woman shot back. "It’s your job."

Kenny grit his teeth and his hold on the kids’ shoulders tightened a little. "You should still be a fucking parent, that’s your job."

"I don’t need advice on how to raise my kids from someone who’s not even graduated high school yet. Come on Kara, Conner. Let’s go."

Kenny’s shoulders were tense as the kids were lead away, and as soon as the gate swung shut and they were out of sight, he turned and whacked his fist against the changing room wall.

"Argh God— Fuck!" he hissed, shaking his hand out. "Shit!"

"You good?" Stan yelled.

Kenny looked at him with a scowl. "Peachy."

Stan sighed and grabbed some ice then beckoned for him to come over. "Either it’s opposite day or you’re lying," he said calmly.

Kenny stayed quiet and let Stan wrap the ice up in cloth and press it to his knuckles. Stan didn’t push, but he did get a can of Dr Pepper out for him to hopefully make him feel better. Kenny was the only person he knew who’d willingly drink it, other than himself.

"It hit close to home," Kenny said after a moment. "That little girl trying to watch out for her brother cause their mom can’t be bothered to just be there. I mean how hard is it, Stan, to be there?"

Stan looked up and met Kenny’s gaze. He looked like he might cry. "I don’t know," Stan said quietly. "I don’t have kids yet."

Kenny didn’t seem satisfied by that answer but he didn’t push. He flexed his hand and winced. "That always looks easier in the movies," he said.

And just like that the subject was dropped, but Stan saw tension in Kenny for the rest of the day.

~*~

"So you’re seriously telling me you don’t have a favourite colour?"

Stan shrugged and leant back in his chair. "Why would I have a favourite colour when all that awaits for us in the end is darkness?"

Kenny groaned and set his head in his palms. "You suck so bad dude. How do you know that there’s nothing after death?"

"How do you know there isn’t?"

Kenny made an odd face but dismissed the topic. "Whatever. You ask me one now."

Stan hummed. "What are we doing here exactly?"

"I told you dude, we’ve got like six years of catching up to do. We’ve gotta get the basic facts down and the small talk outta the way." Kenny gestured vaguely. "You know, in case I die and you need to answer my security questions."

"Naturally," Stan drawled.

Kenny didn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm, even though he made sure his voice was thick with it. "So ask me whatever."

Stan sighed. "Fine. I don’t know, what’s your favourite movie?"

Kenny hummed thoughtfully. "Have you ever seen May?"

"I don’t think so."

"It’s about this woman who’s really lonely and she just can’t connect with anybody around her, you know? And she just wants someone to see her and love her but she’s always falling short because she’s just… weird. She can’t really help it, there’s just something off about her," Kenny explained. "So in the end she decides she has to make her own friend. Literally."

"Literally?"

Kenny grinned. "She took one guy’s hands, another guy’s arms, this girl’s legs, etcetera etcetera. And then her new friend needs eyes so she gives it one of hers and… it just kind of ends there. Not a very nice ending, I admit."

Stan whistled. "That’s kind of dark. Seriously, that’s your favourite?"

"I don’t know, maybe not. Maybe it just resonates. It just… gets it, you know? Have you never been desperate like that? To be seen?"

Stan thought about it for a moment. "Yes. But maybe not that desperate."

"It’s a metaphor. Or something like that."

Stan looked at Kenny intently. "You feel like that? Lonely?"

Kenny grimaced. "Maybe more than the average person."

Stan wasn’t sure what to say to that. The conversation got way deeper than he expected. "So you like horror," is what he came up with.

"Yep. Pretty goth of me, right?"

"In some ways."

"What’s your favourite?" Kenny asked.

Stan bit his lip. "I’ll tell you but it doesn’t leave this pool." Kenny traced an X over his heart and for some reason Stan believed him. "I like The Fox and The Hound."

"The Disney one?" Kenny asked, and Stan nodded wordlessly. He grinned. "That’s your big secret? Well, I guess it’s not very goth but…"

"Not everything about me has to be stereotypically goth," Stan said. "And even so this is like the ultimate act of nonconformity, by not conforming with the noncomformists."

Kenny smiled, all soft around the eyes. "Wow. There’s hope for you yet."

Stan felt his stomach turn over. "Shut up."

~*~

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Kenny said, without even looking up from his phone. Stan sighed and he glanced up with a grin. "Course you can dude."

Stan sighed and shifted where he was sat. It had started raining and they were both cooped up in the snack stand. There wasn’t really enough room for both of them, so Stan was in the chair and Kenny was sat cross legged on the counter. He’d managed to make himself remarkably small.

"Why do you sell drugs?" Stan asked eventually.

He’d been wondering ever since what he’d dubbed as The Incident in his head. Whilst he’d initially thought it made sense, the more of became reacquainted with Kenny the less it did.

Kenny shrugged but it didn’t quite come across as carefree as he clearly would’ve liked. "For money."

"There are lots of things you can do for money."

"You know I don’t need a lecture on morality under capitalism from the kid who basically whored me out on TV that one time."

Stan screwed his nose up. "We weren’t whoring you out, we only asked you to do gross stuff not sex stuff and— You know what, that’s not the point. I’m not trying to lecture you I just wanna know."

Kenny put his phone down in his lap and worked a muscle in his jaw. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. I’m just curious."

Kenny sighed. "I don’t know. I just started because it was easy but now I kinda like it? This is so sad," he muttered. 

"What’s sad?" Stan pushed.

"I think I like it because I… I get to meet new people, sometimes we hang out and ‘test the product’. I don’t have a lot of friends so it’s kind of nice or whatever."

Stan blinked and leant back in his chair. "Oh."

Kenny smiled ruefully. "I told you it was sad."

He went back to scrolling on his phone and Stan kept his gaze locked onto him. He didn’t really understand how someone as utterly magnetic as Kenny ended up so lonely, and it sat uncomfortably in his gut for the rest of their shift. 

~*~

"It’s hot as fucking balls," Kenny said emphatically.

Stan probably would’ve phrased it more eloquently, but he agreed with the sentiment. They were shutting things down for their late Friday shift, and the heat was making everything slow and sticky.

"At least you get to swim around," Stan said, gesturing to the swim shorts Kenny was still wearing. They were dripping on the tile. There’d been a swim class and the assistant instructor was sick so Kenny helped out.

"True. The water’s pretty nice actually."

Stan glanced at the pool. It did look inviting, but maybe only because it was the easiest way to cool down and the heat was frying his brain. In actuality it was probably still gross. "Really?"

Kenny nodded, then looked up with a sort of glimmer in his eye that Stan didn’t entirely trust. "Wanna take a dip?"

Stan shook his head. "I don’t have a suit or anything."

"You have underwear," Kenny replied. "And you don’t have to be shy around me, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before. I’m pretty sure we used to take baths together dude."

Stan screwed his nose up. "Yeah maybe when we were four and your water bill got shut off."

Kenny waved a hand dismissively. "Come on, it’ll be fun. Live a little."

Stan opened his mouth to say no, but something else came out. "Fine."

He blamed the heat. It was making him stupid.

Kenny grinned and waited patiently until Stan had stripped down to his boxers, before grabbing his hand. He dragged Stan along and jumped, both of them landing in the water with a huge splash.

Stan stayed under for a moment, eyes squeezed shut against the chlorine, enjoying the weightlessness until his lungs burned. When he came up for air, Kenny looked at him and laughed.

"Your makeup," he said in response to Stan’s questioning look. He swam over and ran a thumb beneath Stan’s eye. "It’s running all over…"

He trailed off, hand still warm on Stan’s cheek, and cleared his throat. Then he pushed away and turned onto his back, floating on the surface of the water in a star shape.

Stan ignored the way his skin was burning where Kenny made contact and joined him.

The sky was flushed pink and orange as the sun set, and Stan was almost in awe of it. With the company he kept, it was easy to dismiss the beauty in the world. True he’d never been the most passionate guy, but he’d cared about some things. His friends acted like caring was the worst thing a person could do. It got old sometimes.

He was realising lately that he didn’t want to be miserable all his life. That there was more to life than the things he hated.

Kenny nudged Stan, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You look like you’re pondering some deep philosophy," he said. "What’s up?"

Stan sighed heavily. "What do you do if you don’t like yourself very much?" he asked quietly, without really thinking. It just sort of happened.

Kenny didn’t seem particularly perturbed. "Who’s asking?"

"A friend," Stan lied. They both knew that’s what he was doing, it just made it easier.

"Well…" Kenny stopped himself and sighed like he wanted to choose his words carefully. "I don’t really know. But I guess I’d tell your friend they should just be themselves and go from there."

"You sound like Mackey," Stan said. " Be myself , what kind of lame advice is that?"

"I don’t know, I guess I don’t think it’s lame. You know I think you’re pretty great, don’t you Stan?"

Stan turned his head to the left just slightly and met Kenny’s impossibly lavender gaze framed by ridiculously long sandy eyelashes. He was awfully close; Stan could have probably counted every freckle on his face if he wanted to.

"Do you really?"

"Yeah. Don’t tell Cartman but you were always my favourite." Kenny smiled, revealing just a flash of crooked teeth.

Stan felt his breath hitch, his heart skip a beat. He had to look away, back to the stars that now seemed less impressive than they did a few moments ago when they were reflected back in Kenny’s eyes.

"I don’t talk to Cartman anymore," Stan said eventually. "Lucky for both of us."

"I do, sometimes. When I feel particularly masochistic. Or if Butters needs bailing out in a spectacular way I take his place."

"He’s just so easy to manipulate," Stan said.

Kenny hummed. "It’s not a bad thing to be trusting, I don’t think."

"It’s a bad thing to be a pushover."

"Yeah," Kenny agreed. "I guess you’re right. Can I ask you something now?"

"Whatever you want."

Kenny was quiet for a moment, like he was thinking hard about what he wanted to say. "Why do you not like yourself?"

Stan dug his nails into the palm of his hand, then released, and repeated a few times. It was a habit of his, saved for whenever he was uncomfortable. "I don’t know," he said eventually. "I think I just feel… lost."

"We all do."

"You think?"

"Yeah. Think about it, we’re about to start senior year and next summer we’ll all be going off to college. This is our last summer as kids. None of us know how to handle that."

Stan glanced over. "Even you?"

Kenny laughed. "Especially me."

"It’s not just that though," Stan said softly. "I just… I guess I’m tired of being sad all the time. I like being goth. But I don’t think that means I have to think the world sucks all the time. It sucks a lot of the time but…"

"I think you should be whatever you want to be," Kenny said. "I’ll like you either way."

They stayed like that, floating on the chlorinated water, until the pink sky turned purple then a deep blue. They only got out the pool when the first stars twinkled. Stan’s fingers were wrinkled beyond belief and Kenny’s hair was starting to look a little green from the chlorine, but it was worth it.

Just as they were about to part, Stan grabbed Kenny’s arm. "Hey Ken?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the talk," he said quietly. "And I’m glad we’re friends."

Kenny stared at him for a moment, then pulled him into a tight hug.

~*~

When Stan argued with his dad, it wasn’t unusual for him to roam around town like a lost puppy until he was over it. What was unusual this time, was that he found himself crossing the train tracks into what was briefly known as Sodosopa.

He really wasn’t sure why. Henrietta had been dragged to a family dinner and Michael was out of town and Pete was at work and he really didn’t hang out with Firkle one on one. But a part of Stan was relieved about that. Like it gave him an excuse to go and see Kenny.

As he crossed the train tracks, a possum ran over his feet, turned around, and hissed at him. Stan remembered when Kenny adopted one of the possums in his neighbourhood and named it Mr Possy. Kyle and Cartman had been terrified, a rare moment of common ground for the two of them, but Stan thought it was the coolest thing in the world. He’d been the only one to show up to the funeral Kenny organised when poor Mr Possy became roadkill.

Stan navigated around the beat up cars, only one of which wasn’t missing any tires, and knocked on Kenny’s front door.

Karen answered, clearly surprised to see him. "Hey Stan… What’s up?"

"Is Kenny home?"

She frowned a little then shrugged. "Oh yeah. Come in."

Stan followed her into the living room and watched as she flopped down on the couch. The living room was pretty much exactly like Stan remembered, but truthfully he never spent enough time in it to have a good frame of reference. If he had to, he’d say maybe it was looking a little more… worse for wear.

"He’s in his room," Karen said. Then she grinned. "You know he’s not stopped talking about you."

"Really?" Stan refused to believe it, honestly. Mostly because he felt a little guilty. He wasn’t sure either of his parents even knew who he was working with.

Karen nodded. "Yep. I think it’s nice though, he’s— Well it doesn’t really matter. Get lost, go."

Stan smiled at her and made his way to Kenny’s bedroom. He liked Karen. Sometimes she hung out with Henrietta, they had a weird almost sisterly bond that Henrietta refused to fully explain. Something about Casa Bonita and vampires. But despite that, Karen remained full of life and personality despite a gothic exterior. Stan admired it, and was glad she never lost herself like he sort of did. It also reminded him of her brother.

Stan knocked on Kenny’s door; he knew it was his, because his name had been graffitied on it when they were kids and never cleaned up. He waited for permission to enter before doing so.

Kenny was laying on his mattress, staring at the ceiling and apparently just enjoying his own thoughts. He sat up as the door opened though and his eyes went wide when he saw Stan.

"Oh hey dude. What are you doing here?"

"Karen let me in. I was just kinda wandering around, you know, my dad was driving me up the wall so… I left."

Kenny slouched back against the wall and frowned slightly. "Oh. I mean you’re welcome to come here whenever you like, my parents are mostly out these days. Kevin too. So you know…"

Stan nodded and rocked awkwardly on his heels. "Thanks."

Kenny smiled and patted the mattress. "You can sit you know, you don’t have to—"

"Kenny!" Karen screamed. "The bathroom ceiling’s leaking again!"

"Shit," Kenny muttered. He stood up and approached the door and turned back to gesture vaguely to Stan. "What I was trying to say was make yourself at home. I’ve got no secrets."

That was as clear an invitation to snoop as Stan had ever heard. Or maybe he was choosing to interpret it that way, but he couldn’t help it. He was a nosy person by nature, and Kenny’s closet was already ajar after all.

His wardrobe was fairly standard; a lot of baggy, ripped jeans and faded graphic tees. His parka was hung in a place of pride and his two pairs of shoes (battered converse and snow boots) were lined up on the floor. When Stan investigated a little further he found skirts and crop tops and even a jewel green dress that seemed too big to belong to Karen, hidden at the back next to an old princess dress and superhero costume. Stan decided it was none of his business and shut the closet the door, in favour of taking a good look around the room.

Despite the mouldy walls and peeling paint, Kenny had clearly made an effort to make the space nicer. There were posters on the walls, for video games or movies he liked. He’d strung up old Christmas lights above his mattress and his desk and the shelves above it were piled high with various trinkets. Among them was an empty rat cage and a huge stack of comic books on the desk; alphabetised, Stan noticed. Kenny may look and act like Teenage Dirtbag personified, but apparently he was a huge nerd.

Stan picked up a particularly worn looking comic book from the pile. The creased spine read Batgirl: Silent Knight , and a few pages were dog eared and wrinkly with water damage. Stan could’ve sworn he’d seen Kenny reading this very same book at the back of the bus, or out in the courtyard at lunch with a scarf bundled up around his face. It felt a little sacred somehow and Stan put it back in its place just before Kenny reentered the room.

"Good news, the ceiling’s not gonna fall in today. Bad news, I’m now out of duct tape," he announced, flopping back on his mattress and draping an arm over his eyes.

Stan leant against the desk and looked at him for a moment. "You like superheroes."

Kenny looked up. "Huh? Oh yeah, I do. Who doesn’t?"

"Goths."

"That tracks. You know superheroes are just power fantasies, they’re designed to make you feel good about humanity and put your problems in a different light. That’s why most people like them."

"Is that why you like them?"

Kenny’s mouth twitched the way it did when he was thinking hard. "Look around Stan," he said eventually. "If I didn’t have some form of escapism I’d have probably killed myself by now."

Stan nodded and his gaze landed on a sparkly tiara sat on a shelf, a remnant of their childhood, and he thought about the costumes at the back of his closet, and suddenly everything about Kenny made a little bit more sense.

He sunk down beside Kenny and slowly leant back until they were sharing a flat pillow. He wordlessly took his hand in his and examined them together, liking the way Kenny’s freckly tan looked against his pale skin.

"I’m glad you didn’t," he said after a moment. Kenny hummed questioningly and Stan met his gaze. "Kill yourself."

Kenny swallowed. "Yeah… I was exaggerating."

"I wasn’t. Seriously I’m glad you’re here. With me."

"Yeah okay. Me too."

~*~

"Mom, where are my shorts?!"

Stan had torn apart a fresh basket of laundry as well as half of his room looking for his favourite black shorts. He had about twenty minutes before he had to be at the pool; at this rate he was going to have to forego makeup.

"They’re in the wash honey." Sharon poked her head around the door. "Remember the big load you gave me yesterday?"

Stan tensed. Shit. He was pretty sure all his shorts had been in there. "What am I meant to wear to work? It’s so hot, I can’t wear jeans!"

"Well maybe if you gave me your laundry when I asked, I wouldn’t have to do a huge load just for you and we wouldn’t be in this situation."

"Mom…"

Sharon sighed and threw his closet open. "Well what’s wrong with these ones? I only bought them last summer."

She held up a pair of blue denim shorts. Not even navy; they were light wash. Stan took them with a grimace. "They’re blue."

"Oh for goodness sake Stanley, the world will not end if you wear a little bit of colour for once in your life. It might even do you good, help you get out of this phase a little quicker."

"It’s not a phase!" Stan yelled as she left the room, then quietly cursed himself for actually saying that. Who did he think he was? An emo?

He stared at the blue shorts, then at the clock, then out the window at the sweltering sun, and sighed heavily before tugging them on. To make matters worse, he did have to skip out on the light foundation he normally wore but he managed to squeeze in the eyeliner. Small victories or whatever.

If he wasn’t already self conscious enough, Kenny immediately zeroed in the second Stan walked into the complex. He put a hand over his heart, another on his forehead and swooned.

"Staniel Zebediah Marsh are you wearing… blue? Catch me I feel faint!"

He fell back into Stan’s arms with a truly shit eating grin. Stan scowled and pushed him back up. "Laundry day," he said plainly. Then after a moment, he stabbed a finger into Kenny’s chest. "And my middle name’s not Zebediah. What kind of fuck ass biblical name is that?"

"Hey that’s my middle name."

Stan folded his arms. "No it’s not."

Kenny grinned. "Yeah you’re right." He held a hand up to shield his eyes (he was noticeably missing his sunglasses, so maybe they’d both had a rough start to the day) and hummed. "Well better get back up there. Lives aren’t gonna guard themselves."

Stan gestured to the snack shack over his shoulder. "You know where to find me."

Kenny shot him double finger guns before leaving and Stan rounded the counter to do his job. He sat down in the plastic chair and did his best to tune out the annoying top 40 songs playing over the speaker.

It was a pretty decent day after that. A few kids bought ice cream, one of the older ones complimented his lip piercings and Stan was more touched than he liked to admit. Kenny got to blow his whistle and yell a lot which must’ve made him happy. Mostly he didn’t have to shout though, he could just give the kids a firm head shake or cut it out gesture and they’d stop. It was kind of weird; he was like a kid tamer.

By the time their shift was over, Stan had almost completely forgotten about the bad start to his day. He was actually even in a good mood when Kenny came over to lean against the counter, and sort of just stared at him, resting his head on his palm.

Stan wasn’t quite used to the intensity of Kenny’s gaze, usually it was obscured by his shades. It made Stan feel vulnerable and like his insides had all turned to jelly.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked after a few moments of this.

Kenny lifted his head from his palm and smiled slightly. "Nothing much. Just that colour suits you… Raven."

It wasn’t until the next day, when Stan purposefully reached for a red t-shirt, that he realised just how much trouble he was in.

~*~

Stan had to evaluate these new feelings carefully. 

He hadn’t really had so much as a crush in an insanely long time, not since Wendy. He’d found people attractive of course, but he couldn’t really like someone based just on looks alone.

The unfortunate thing was, Kenny had more than looks. Sure he was handsome but mostly Stan liked him for his personality. He hated how that made him sound like a teenage cheerleader who giggled as she drew hearts in her diary, but it was true. Kenny was just… He was Kenny. 

Stan was slowly starting to realise that maybe life isn’t as horrible as he once believed, and Kenny was a big part of that. But there was a problem. Stan didn’t know what to be if not goth, but Kenny seemed determined to heal the wounds that made him that way. It was problematic.

The thing is, Stan wasn’t too sure why this was only becoming an issue now. Kenny had always been attractive. It was one of those things Stan had just accepted, even if he was honestly jealous of it at first.

He remembered when they were kids and middle aged women would always tell Kenny he’d break a lot of hearts when he grew up. Lady killer, some of them called him. Looking back it was a pretty fucked up thing to say to a kid, but at the time Stan hadn’t thought much of it. If anything, he’d agreed with them.

He realised, though, that Kenny really was good looking in more than just a conventional way when he recently participated in the annual school musical.

Stan had been roped into ushering for opening night in lieu of a detention after him and the rest of his friends got caught cutting class one too many times. He’d been sat right at the back during the actual show and missed a lot, but he could remember in vivid detail when Kenny and another boy came out for their song. Stan had been totally transfixed (and a little second hand embarrassed) as he watched Kenny actually grind on stage, in front of half the town. He’d groped himself and hung all over the pretty senior who played the lead, and generally it shouldn’t have been attractive.

And yet…

Stan had stored that in a box right at the back of his brain and honestly had done a good job not thinking about it in the few months since. Until now anyway.

"Do you remember the musical?" he asked, on a particularly dead shift. Sunday morning. Everyone else was in church. Perfect time to be thinking about this.

Kenny hummed and sipped from his water bottle. "I’ve been in two, which one?"

Stan didn’t know that and made a mental note to ask about it later. "The one you did recently."

"Ah. Heathers?"

"That’s the one."

Kenny grinned and pushed his hair back. "You know I auditioned for Heather Duke but they gave all the leads to seniors."

Stan’s brain flashed with images of Kenny in the preppy croquet outfits they had the main girls wear. "Tragic."

"Eh. Maybe I’ll give it a go again next year, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. It’s kind of lame though and those theatre kids do not fuck about. Why’d you bring it up?"

Stan shrugged. "You can sing."

"Oh yeah. Like an angel, or so some have said. I was a big hit in Romania."

"It got me thinking about the band we had," Stan continued. "Crimson Dawn."

Kenny laughed, rolling his head back in a way that was hypnotic. "Oh yeah. And our hit song ‘ I Hate This Fucking Farm ’ or whatever it was called."

"My lyrics have gotten better since then," Stan said defensively.

Before he’d realised what he’d said, Kenny had fixed him with a curious look. "You still write music?"

"I mean… sometimes. Not seriously, or at least not with the intention of anyone hearing it," Stan admitted.

"Not even your friends?"

"It’s… It’s a bit emo for them. It’s all very lovelorn."

Kenny regarded him carefully then straightened up and reached out to ruffle his hair. "Who broke your heart Stanny?"

He swatted him away. "No one, that’s kind of the point."

"Ah. So you are lonely."

"I never said I wasn’t," Stan reminded. "Just that I wasn’t at the point of making Franken-friends."

Kenny hummed, drumming his fingers absently on the counter. He leant forward, brows creased together contemplatively, before looking up at Stan.

"Bebe’s having a party on Saturday. You’re invited, I already asked her. Pretty much the whole class will be there."

The change of topic had Stan feeling a little whiplashed, but he went with it. Kenny did that a lot, just jumped around conversationally when he got bored or uncomfortable with the old one. "I don’t really do parties."

Mostly he just didn’t want to deal with the people he’d spent the better part of six years icing out and acting better than just because he didn’t conform, and he especially didn’t want to do it without a drink in his hand.

He’d been sober for nearly two years, after a lot of convincing from Michael and Henrietta, and it was good. He knew it was good. But it wasn’t exactly easy.

"I see," Kenny said. "Too conformist?"

"Among other things."

"It’ll be fun, okay, I wanna hang out with you outside of this shitty place so just come. Please? It’d make me very happy." Kenny let his voice go sing song and batted his eyelashes at Stan. It was honestly embarrassing for him.

The worst part is it worked. "I’ll see if I’m free," Stan relented.

Kenny snorted. "What else would you have planned that night? An exorcism?"

"As if." Stan smirked to himself. "We might have a seance."

"Oh really. Who do you talk to when you do those?"

"No one you’d know."

"Eh you’d be surprised." Kenny rolled his shoulders and straightened up, then pointed at Stan. "Let me know about the party yeah? Even if the answer’s no, just don’t let me get my hopes up then not show. That would be a real dick move."

"Alright I’ll text you," Stan said, even if in the moment he had no real intention of going.

~*~

Stan really did mean it at the time, and found himself genuinely surprised when he ended up stood across the street from Bebe’s house, hands in his pockets and feeling a little bit like a lemon. He hadn’t told any of his friends he was going, instead using a flimsy excuse about his mom needing help with something when they asked why he was busy.

It was just a party. He was stupid to be nervous. He took his hands out of his pockets, steeled his nerves, and walked across the road. Clyde was sat on the front porch with Craig, deep in a beer fuelled conversation. They both did a genuine double take when Stan walked past, but Clyde was the only one to say anything.

"Hey Marsh!" he yelled, breaking into a grin when Stan turned to face him. "Holy shit it is you! I haven’t seen you at one of these in forever!"

"I’ve been hanging with a different crowd," Stan said.

"Yeah I’ll say." Suddenly Clyde’s eyes went wide. "Shit you’re not here to curse us are you?"

Stan seriously debated saying yes, just to see how he’d react, but he chose to just shake his head. It was still a little satisfying seeing Clyde sag with relief.

"Kenny’s inside," Craig said, as flat as ever. "I figure he’s the only reason you’re here."

How Craig knew that Stan would never know, but he didn’t waste time trying to. Instead he nodded gratefully and headed into the fray.

The music was loud and Bebe’s living room was hot with sweat as the crowd danced in the open space. People were sat on the couches, talking or making out, and Stan could see people bringing their empty cups into the kitchen.

He saw a familiar faces making up the crowd, and received a few strange looks just for being there. He made awkward eye contact with Kyle, who was sat on the stares with Nichole, and for some reason it really hurt. It was just easier avoiding him.

But then there was Kenny. He came in through the kitchen, Stan guessed back from a smoke break, the famous red solo cup held loosely in his hand.

He also looked stupidly good. He was wearing one of those tight little crop tops that hadn’t been fashionable since 2002 but were apparently having a revival, and baggy jeans that hung low on his hips. As Stan got a little closer and the crowd parted slightly, he realised Kenny’s tee had words written across the chest; dead inside. Cute.

His face lit up when he spotted Stan and he deftly made his way through the crowd, the hand he was holding his cup in held above his head to avoid spilling any of the liquid inside as he got jostled about. He leant into Stan when he reached him and blew some hair out of his face. His eyes were shining and the lights were bouncing off of his slightly sweaty skin in a way that was almost dreamy.

"I thought I told you to let me know," Kenny said, voice raspy, "if you were going to be here or not."

Stan felt a little dizzy, like he was inhaling second hand smoke and alcohol fumes just being around him. "Can’t a guy want to maintain an air of mystery?" he asked.

Kenny rewarded him with a laugh and grabbed his hand. "You need a drink."

Stan felt a little cold despite the way Kenny’s hand was warm in his. "I— I don’t actually."

Kenny came to a stop in the kitchen and turned to face Stan, brushing some stray hair out of his eyes as he did so. "Huh?"

"I don’t drink," Stan admitted. "Not anymore."

It was consistently embarrassing to talk about. He was seventeen; this was exactly when he should be allowed to binge drink and not worry about it. But he was determined to not end up like his dad, and this was the only way he could see to do that.

Kenny looked him up and down for a moment then dumped the contents of his own cup down the sink. "That’s cool dude."

"Oh no you didn’t have to—"

Kenny put his hand on Stan’s mouth. "I’ve had enough. Don’t worry. I’m the one who invited you to this party, I’m not gonna get super drunk in front of you and make you take care of me."

"I wouldn’t mind," Stan said honestly once Kenny dropped his hand.

"Well I would. Last thing I need is you not having fun and never keeping me company at one of these things ever again." Kenny reached over to the drinks table and grabbed two bottles of lemonade. "Here. You should still stay hydrated."

Stan took the one he was offered and cracked it open. "Thanks. For being cool about it, I mean. And the drink, thanks for that too."

Kenny grinned and opened his own bottle, then took a long sip, maintaining that weird eye contact he was so good at. Stan blinked and looked away, until Kenny grabbed his hand.

"Let’s dance," he said. "And don’t say you don’t dance or whatever, because everyone dances."

Stan decided not to argue even though he really didn’t know how to dance. He could goth dance, of course, but that didn’t seem appropriate for this setting.

Kenny however, didn’t seem to have a stiff bone in his body. His dancing involved a lot of jumping, a lot of screaming the lyrics to whatever song was playing, and a lot of touching. Either he was holding Stan’s hand, or he was touching his shoulder, or clinging onto his arm. Kenny had always been tactile; as a kid especially he found actions spoke louder than words.

So really it shouldn’t have been a surprise that when the song turned to a slower, and Kenny didn’t even hesitate before putting his arms over Stan’s shoulders and locking his fingers together at the nape of his neck. Still, Stan stared at him, stunned and now unsure of where to put his hands.

"You can touch me," Kenny prompted. "I consent."

He dropped his voice to an uncanny Mr Mackey impression that would’ve made Stan burst out laughing in any other situation. In this one, however, he was very focussed on how sweaty his hands were and how close Kenny was.

"Okay," Stan swallowed.

Kenny kept looking at him expectantly. "Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to touch me. Is that better?"

Stan blinked and felt his cheeks heat up as he carefully put his hands on Kenny’s waist. His skin felt warm to the touch, but it was not like the sort of sticky heat that permeated the room. It was more like the warmth from a good blanket. Comforting.

"You’re pretty good at this," Stan said after a moment. "Dancing, I mean."

"Yeah I still have the high score on DDR at the arcade," Kenny said. "I check on it periodically to make sure no stupid kid dethrones me."

Stan laughed. "KMC reigns supreme."

"You know it."

Kenny flashed him a smile so sweet that Stan had to look away before he got a cavity. It was bad idea; it just made him realise that the other people dancing around them were mostly couples. He had not expected Bebe’s house party to be so intimate, yet here he was. He felt his stomach roll.

"You good?" Kenny asked softly. "You just went all pale. Like paler than usual."

Stan nodded and swallowed the saliva that had welled up in his mouth. "I’m fine. Don’t worry about me."

"I worry about all my friends," Kenny replied. He sighed dramatically and sagged a little in Stan’s arms. "It’s such a burden."

"Okay, I get it, but I’m serious. I’m really fine." Stan smiled and his stomach flipped again. "More than fine."

Kenny held his gaze for a moment before smiling. "Okay great. So you’re having a good time so far?"

"As much as I loathe to admit it," Stan sighed, "I am. You were right, it is fun."

Kenny hummed and smirked. "Ooh say that again for me?"

Stan rolled his eyes. "You were right."

"Music to my ears."

"You’re a dick."

"Look who’s talking."

The song came to a finish but Kenny didn’t move away. He stood still and just stared at Stan, with a gaze so piercing it felt like he was seeing right through him, down to the core of his being.

Kenny’s eyes were stupidly pretty. Stan had always known that but he hadn’t really taken it in until that moment. They were sort of girly and softened his otherwise sharp, pointy features.

"Do you wanna go outside?" Kenny asked after a moment, finally moving away. "It’s kinda sweaty in here."

Stan nodded despite the fact he felt almost cold in the absence of Kenny’s touch, and let himself be led out the sliding doors into the garden. It was blissfully empty and a cool breeze ran through the air. Kenny sighed and sat down on the step, then Stan joined him after a moment.

"Do you still smoke?" Kenny asked. "Or are you completely clean?"

"I’m a goth, dude, I still smoke," Stan said. "Maybe a little too much."

Kenny hummed. "Yeah you’ve got shit lungs already. Remember when they made us do sprints in like fifth grade or something and you threw up?"

"At least I did it. You faked sick that day."

Kenny grinned. "And I had a great time up in the bleachers watching, Amen."

He pulled out a lighter and box of cigarettes, and stuck one between his lips. He waved the box invitingly to Stan, who also took one.

"You know," Kenny mumbled around his cigarette as he flicked the lighter. It was obviously old and low on fluid because it took a while to produce a flame. "I kinda can’t believe we’ve never smoked before."

He lit his cigarette, leaned in and lit Stan’s from his, then sat back and exhaled like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just been so close Stan could smell his cheap cologne.

"Guess we’ve gotta make up for lost time," Stan said after he was sure he wasn’t going to hurl.

Kenny looked at him intently. "In more ways than one."

Stan exhaled a cloud of smoke and watched Kenny through it. "What do you mean?"

Kenny seemed to contemplate for a moment, before reaching forward and plucking Stan’s cigarette out of his mouth. Before he could ask what he was doing, Kenny’s lips were on his. He tasted strongly of smoke but also like fruity lip balm. Most surprising was that he was a gentle kisser, in a way that made Stan feel completely weak. He just surrendered to it.

Someone was looking out for him, because Stan’s brain didn’t really catch up with what was happening until it was over, at which point he promptly threw up on the floor. Kenny yelped and tucked his knees to his chest, even though he was thankfully no longer in the splash zone.

"Woah dude!"

"Sorry," Stan said weakly, because he didn’t know what else to say.

Kenny stared at him, bewildered, before he burst out laughing. "I haven’t seen you puke like that since Wendy said goodbye to you at the bus stop when we—" He cut himself off, eyes going wide. "Oh."

Stan managed a shaky smile, even though he was honestly so embarrassed he just wished a big hole would open up and swallow him. "Yeah I— I never really grew out of that. The throwing up around people I like thing."

Kenny snickered and pulled Stan close, resting their foreheads together. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that."