Chapter Text
Best man? Oh, JESUS. Tweek had never been the best at ANYTHING unless being a nervous goddamn wreck counted. It almost definitely didn’t.
At least he wasn’t the one who’d spent the last hour frantically pacing the room this time, with a discordant string of thoughts spilling out of him.
His friend Stan, one of the grooms in this whole affair, was beside himself. The poor guy had thrown up several times, was currently bouncing his leg at a rapid pace, and was sure as HELL not listening to everyone’s attempts to calm him down.
“Mom, will you PLEASE just give me my phone?” Stan pleaded. “I have to check on him!”
Sharon Marsh sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, an expression Tweek recognized from Stan.
“Stanley, for the last time, you and Kyle BOTH agreed not to be in contact before you saw each other at the altar. It was your idea to keep that tradition.”
It had been. The “Style Wedding”, as it had been dubbed, was a bizarre mix of traditional and non traditional tropes. The whole reason the two decided to have a ceremony in the first place was to, in the words of Eric Cartman, “show everyone how goddamn weird you are”. Their childhood friends Marjorine and Cartman ran a wedding planning company, and knew the couple as well as anyone, so they had not held back with making everything happen.
Every single thing Stan and Kyle loved was going to be showcased in some way, from the ceremony itself looking like something from Middle Earth, to the MarioKart tournament at the reception. Kyle’s mother had insisted on the breaking of the glass, there would be a first dance, and the couple, in true hopeless romantic fashion, wanted the union at the altar to be the first time they saw each other for the day.
Poor Stan was clearly regretting that decision, burying his face in his hands with a deep sigh.
“Christ, I need a fucking drink.”
This brought cries of alarm from everyone in the room, but Stan waved them off.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, guys, obviously I’m not serious.”
Tweek knew it was just the emotion talking; Stan was his AA sponsor, his sobriety buddy. He was just talking out of his ass again, overwhelmed and speaking whatever came to mind. Tweek could relate, but it still worried him.
One of his jobs as his friend’s “best man” was to keep in contact with Kyle’s, who just happened to be his own husband, Craig. He unlocked his phone.
Tweek: Stan’s freaked, man! Is Kyle at least calm?
Craig💙: hardly. He won’t sit still. I kicked fat boy out bc he wasn’t helping.
Tweek: fair. Listen, I got a very nervous groom over here and idk what to do to help. How u helpin Kyle?
Craig💙: debating kicking his mom out too, for starters
Craig💙: I mean, I love the guy, but he’s a fuckin counselor, u would think he’d be better about his own emotions.
Tweek: it is a big deal, my love. U think it would help if they saw each other real quick?
Tweek turned back to Stan, who very much looked like he was about to throw up again. His sister was rubbing his back.
“C’mon, Turd. This is Kyle we’re talking about here. Your “Super Best Friend”. You guys are pretty much married already anyway, have been since you were, like, kids or whatever.”
“Sorry.” Stan muttered. “I don’t know why I’m so freaked out.”
Tweek sent out another text to Craig.
Tweek: just say ur taking Kyle out for fresh air I’ll do the same 4 Stan. That big tree by the fence?
Craig💙: on it
Plan in place, he looked up, going over to his friend and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, man, why don’t we go get some air real quick before the ceremony starts? We can, uh, look at the horses.”
Stan perked up a bit at that, nodding slowly. “Okay, dude.”
——-
At least it was nice out, so that helped a little. Early April in Colorado still had a chill in the air, and the breeze rolling over the field was fresh with the feeling of mountain springtime.
Tweek anxiously tapped his fingers together, picking up on Stan’s energy, when a voice from behind grabbed his attention.
“Sweetheart?”
He and Stan both quickly spun around, their eyes landing on Craig and Kyle. Stan immediately broke into a grin, rushing forward to pull his partner into a hug.
“Dude! What’re you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Kyle laughed.
“We, well, I was freaked out, so Tweek suggested we go outside for a second.”
“Funny,” Kyle raised an eyebrow at his own best man. “Craig did the same thing.”
A grating voice made Tweek jump.
“What, you two gaywads couldn’t stand being apart for more than ten minutes?”
Eric Cartman, along with Marj and Kenny, rounded the corner of the building. His amusement was obvious, and honestly? It set Tweek on edge. He had only met Cartman a few weeks before, during some wedding planning shit, and his personality was abrasive to say the least.
Craig had liked him even less, which Tweek took with a grain of salt, because Craig didn’t like very many people to begin with, but the way this fucker talked to his friends, especially Kyle, made him want to bite his head off. Stan felt the same way, despite his pacifistic nature, and Kyle, well…
“SHUT THE FUCK UP FATASS!”
The predictable reaction. Kyle marched right up to the bigger man, jamming a finger in his face and visibly seething.
“It’s my fucking WEDDING DAY, jackhole! You call me a slur, or start some drama, or even THINK about calling my mom a bitch, and I WILL kick your ass!”
Cartman, thankfully, backed down. He almost looked apologetic. “Damn, dude. You’re a little on edge today, huh?”
Kyle relaxed at Stan’s touch, his large hand gently rubbing his soon to be husband’s back. Tweek would never stop being in awe at his friend’s ability to calm down his fiery counterpart.
“The hell did you expect?” Kyle muttered. “I’m getting married in, like, thirty minutes, I’m gonna be on edge. Fucking got my dumbass cousin talking about “tradition” or whatever, Moose didn’t want to wear his dragon wings, my mom’s being loud as shit for no reason, and my dad made me call the rabbi.”
“Geez, pack it up, Fiddler On The Roof.”
For a second, Tweek was terrified that Kyle was about to murder Cartman right in front of everyone, but then he did something unexpected. Kyle laughed.
“*Pffffttt* you haven’t- *ha!* -called me that in YEARS!”
Kenny was the first to join in, practically doubled over, leaning on his wife to hold himself up. Stan started wheezing so hard that he’d probably give himself an asthma attack if he kept it up too long, and even Craig let out a chuckle.
The tensions melted away with the soft breeze, thank god. He wasn’t sure how much more of the pressure he could handle, but seeing his friends relax, seeing the camaraderie, everything was gonna be fine.
“Alright fellas,” Marj started, “we should prob’ly get back to it.”
Kyle nodded. “Nah, yeah, you’re right. I still need to finish getting dressed, and my family’s gonna want a million pictures, and I gotta check my levels, and-“
At that last part, Stan reached into the scabbard on his belt, one that would soon hold a sword for when they cut the cake, and drew out a bottle of juice. Tweek couldn’t help but grin. It was like on some subconscious level, Stan knew that they would run into Kyle and the others. The redhead looked touched and very, very amused.
“Oh, sweetheart, what would I do without you?”
Stan pressed a kiss to his fiancé’s hand, like a medieval knight. Well, that wasn’t even a little surprising, considering the guy was wearing a LITERAL scabbard at his WEDDING.
“I’d be the one lost in your absence, my dearest king.”
“Alright,” Cartman cut in with a roll of his eyes, “Save the faggotry for the ceremony, assholes.”
Jesus. According to his friends, Cartman had been a lot worse growing up, before finally being put on the right meds for his (as Kyle had put it) sociopathic tendencies and (as Stan put it) fuckfacery. Tweek was, once again, very glad he hadn’t grown up with the guy.
“Speaking of,” Kenny grinned. “How off script can I go when I’m officiating?”
Stan raised an eyebrow at him. “Ken, we don’t care, just PLEASE try to keep it, like, PG-13.”
“So that means I’m allowed one tastefully placed “fuck”, then.”
And suddenly Tweek was a nervous wreck again.