Work Text:
At five o’clock in the morning, Kyle was awakened by a cramp in his left leg and the urgent need to pee. The pain was so intense that he didn’t notice Stan’s arm latched around his middle until he tried to move.
Early weekend mornings had long been Stan’s jogging time, until a few weeks ago when he came home to Kyle kneeled over the toilet vomiting up his coffee. June hid behind the bathroom door as Stan attended to him, rubbed comforting circles into his back.
Kyle really did have to pee very badly, but he let himself enjoy the cuddling for a minute. Leaning back into Stan’s chest, he tried to sync their breathing, focusing on the way his spine pressed against him with each of their inhales and fell away at every exhale. But Kyle’s muscles were too stiffened by the cramping to give the impression that he was still asleep, and this woke up Stan as well, who snaked his hand up to Kyle’s heart, right over his nipple, and squeezed.
“Mmmorning,” Stan hummed. “How do you feel?”
“Fine, I dunno. I have to piss.”
Upon hearing that Stan immediately released him and shed the lovey-dovey temperament.
“Go pee then. You can’t hold it in, dude. It’s bad for you.”
Stan’s concern was rightful, but Kyle rolled his eyes anyway as he got out of bed. The cramp was waning now: he flexed his shoulders, limped over to the bathroom, and missed the comfort of the bed and Stan’s arms as he relieved himself. It had been a while since they last had sex, which was partly due to how raising an eight-year-old packed their schedule, but Kyle still felt partly to blame. All the exercise granted Stan with a resurgence of libido he hadn’t experienced since their early twenties, but he didn’t seem to mind that Kyle couldn’t always reciprocate.
Thinking about sex with Stan instilled in Kyle the beginnings of familiar warm, tingly feelings in his chest, and hardness in his dick. Thank God that part of his body still worked.
The door frame to their bathroom captured their bed perfectly, where Stan still lay dozing off, tufts of dark hair visible from between the sheets and pillows, arms reaching out for the empty spot where Kyle was laying.
Just as Kyle was about to go to him, June came rushing in, jumping erratically on the bed and on Stan’s legs with requests for pancakes.
-
The explanation for Kyle’s plight was not a mystery.
“It was bound to happen eventually,” Kyle said, over his husband and daughter’s plates loaded with fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sugary syrup. “Just, why now? Everything is…”
Having finished her breakfast first, June was now distracted watching morning cartoons, and they were able to whisper in the kitchen without her sharp little ears tuning in. As much as Kyle loved to boast about how intelligent she was for her age, it could also be quite a nuisance whenever she had questions they couldn’t exactly answer, like ’What are clouds made of?' and 'Why do people get sick?'
“...everything is perfect.” Kyle sipped his coffee.
“Should you be drinking that?”
“I looked it up, it’s fine. It’s like… we can never escape it. It’s always something. There’s always gonna be goddamn something.” He took a long, contemplative sip from the mug. “…As long as he’s inside of me. Am I crazy?”
“Dude, yes. That kidney kept you alive. It’s not like he fucked up his own kidneys on purpose knowing you’d need one of them.”
“I just wish it was yours. That’s all. It has nothing to do with Cartman. Well, maybe it does, a little. I have to live with someone else’s organ inside of me and I don’t even get to choose.”
“Well, you know I’d give it to you, if we had the same blood type. Not even a question. And I wanted to back then, too. No matter how much it hurt. But it doesn’t mean anything, who’s kidney it is. It’s not contaminating you. It’s keeping you here with me.”
Kyle’s own breakfast was getting cold, but he didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. He pushed the plate towards Stan, who raised an eyebrow but dug in nonetheless.
“June, go get ready for soccer!” Stan called out through a mouth full of plain, doughy pancake. When she scampered off, he said to Kyle, quietly, “It’s our weekend for snacks, by the way. Just remembered.”
“Ugh, fuck…”
-
They ended up stopping at Food 4 Little to buy some assorted packs of juice pouches, clementines, and granola bars. When they arrived at the local park’s field carrying the items in a plastic bag, the coach’s wife approached them.
“Kyle, Stan, good morning! Hi, June.” She smiled down at their daughter, who was holding Kyle’s hand and leaning into his leg. “Ready for practice?”
June nodded.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Kyle asked her softly as Stan made small talk with Marissa, or Meredith, or whatever her name was. June just nodded again and it made Kyle uneasy. Not knowing what was wrong with her, he offered warm eyes and a kind smile as he suggested she go play with her friends. “Daddy wants to watch you.” He kissed the top of her head. Maybe she was just nervous about the upcoming game. “I know you’re gonna do great today.”
Luckily there was no further complaint. Some other girls who were already on the field and kicking a ball around called her over. Still holding June’s hand, Kyle gestured towards them with his head, as if to say, ’Go on’.
When she ran off, Kyle turned his attention back to Stan and the woman, who was apparently the mother of Claire, one of the blonde little girls on the field.
“Thanks for these, by the way,” she said, taking the bag of snacks from Stan. Her lips pressed into a thin line when she looked inside to find typical branding of generic, high-sugar fare instead of the Paleo, organic, homemade creations the other moms took turns outdoing each other with. She faked a smile with teeth as bright and white as the pearls on her earrings. “There’s some extra room in our cooler, I can put these in there, if you’d like.”
Stan shrugged his shoulders, indifferent. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
“Bitch,” Stan said under his breath when they sat down on the metal bleachers, which were slowly heating up in the morning sun. “Who wears pearls to their kid’s soccer practice?”
Kyle laughed because they were both thinking it. “Dude, I’m baking here. Ugh.”
Stan reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a small tube of baby sunscreen he carried for June. “You didn’t do it before we left?”
“I forgot. The snacks…” He smeared a coin-sized amount across his face, then turned to Stan, who blended in the excess so he wouldn’t look too ghostly. “Thanks,” he said, and gave Stan a chaste kiss to show he meant it.
They followed the happenings of the practice as best they could. They watched as she passed and received the ball and flashed her thumbs-ups when she looked over at them.
“She knows,” Kyle murmured, “that something’s going on. I think she’s worried. You saw how she clung onto me.”
Stan shifted, turning his back to the rest of the parents on the bleachers, and leaned close to Kyle. Their bare knees, which were slowly reddening in the sun, knocked together. The position closed them off from the outside social circle: it was almost as if Stan was shielding Kyle physically with his own body mass. “I saw, yeah. We’ll have to talk with her soon, I think. She’s perceptive enough to see you’re in pain and she doesn’t know why. I don’t want her to be scared.” He took Kyle’s hand where it was resting in between them, subtly so no one else could see, and gave it a light squeeze. “It was scary for me, y’know, when we were her age. It was terrifying.”
“I know, I know. I just don’t know what to say. That won’t scare her even more. I mean, right now she just knows that I puke sometimes and that I’m tired a lot. But if we tell her one of my organs is failing? That I’ll be going into surgery? I just don’t know.”
The girls were scrimmaging now, and Kyle chose to pause the conversation while they watched June dart around on the field. He wouldn’t admit it, as Stan’s history with parental involvement in extracurricular competitive sports was touchy, but this was his favorite part of watching June’s practice. He glowed with pride when she took the ball and passed it to her teammate with ease. She had inherited all of Stan’s athleticism and, when she met their eyes for acknowledgment, Kyle knew she got his humility as well. All their work in the backyard after school, Stan matching her little kicks in his old ratty high school basketball shorts, showing her proper form, making her laugh with tricks, and sweating outside while Kyle cooked dinner and watched them from the window, was paying off.
All the girls lined up to practice shooting goals. When it was June’s turn, Stan clapped and shot her a thumbs up, and when she made a perfect shot, he cheered so wildly that the other parents took their eyes off their own children to glare at them. Kyle beamed. He decided he would take them out for ice cream later.
-
“Great job out there today, kid,” Kyle said to June in the parlor. She hugged his leg as they browsed the flavors and he thumbed over her back. His daughter. Even after eight years, as Stan’s college six-pack abs slowly disappeared out of sight and Kyle’s oldest pairs of pants stopped fitting, he sometimes still had to remind himself that it was real, that he and Stan had settled into the life they always wanted.
“What’re you thinking? Strawberry?”
She looked at him deviously. “Banana split!”
“Oh, God,” Kyle sighed dramatically and she giggled. She knew of his banana disdain.
“That’s what I’m talking about!”
Outnumbered, Kyle forked over seventeen of their hard-earned dollars for a family-sized bowl of strawberry, Oreo, and vanilla ice cream topped with whipped cream, plenty of chocolate sauce, and a banana smile. It was obnoxiously decadent. The girl working the counter handed it to them along with three large spoons and they made their way outside to find a table on the patio.
“Great choice, love,” Stan said, through a mouthful of fruit and ice cream.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she replied, obviously parroting her Dad.
Stan hummed in acknowledgement and swallowed. “You’re right, you’re right. Dad taught you well.” He looked up at Kyle, who couldn’t hold back a smile.
“That’s right.”
“Don’t you want some?” June pushed the bowl towards her dad. “Strawberry’s your favorite.”
“It is.” Kyle glanced at Stan, who was looking back at him reassuringly with warmth in his eyes. He gave Kyle an encouraging nod. “But I can’t have a lot. Actually, that’s part of what Daddy and I want to talk with you about.”
“Is it about your sickness? Because I already know.” Behind the sass, the somber look on her face broke Kyle’s heart, and truth be told, it was why he hesitated for so long to tell her. He knew she could handle it, that she was smart and that they could talk her through the process so she would understand. It was seeing her sad or worried at all that he didn’t feel prepared for.
“Yes, um, your daddy and I- we just needed some time to tell you. Because we know you’re smart, but we don’t want you to worry.”
“Dad is going to be fine,” Stan added from across the table, putting an arm over June’s shoulders. She leaned into his chest, her brown wavy hair falling in her face. Was she crying? Kyle couldn’t be quite sure. Trepid, he pushed on.
“My kidney, that helps me digest food-”
“I know what a kidney is!”
“I know you know. My kidney is having problems. I’m going to need a new one.” He paused to make sure she was still listening. Stan was rubbing her shoulder with one of his thumbs. She had a big attitude, but she was so small. “I’m going to need surgery. The doctors are giving me a new kidney. I know it’s a lot, but I promise, I’m going to be fine. I won’t miss any of your soccer games, or the third grade play. And Daddy’s gonna be around a lot more to help me while I’m healing.”
“We’ll probably order pizza a whole lot,” said Stan, with his mouth full.
Kyle shot him a look, but it was inevitably true. “Sure, if you want, Junie. And if you have any questions, you can always ask them. I know this is a lot, but again, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Hmmm… Is it Daddy’s kidney?”
“What?”
“Whose kidney is it? Daddy’s? You have to get it from somewhere, kidney’s don’t grow on trees.”
“You’re right, they don’t. Uh, no, it’s not Daddy’s. It has to be someone with the same blood type.”
“What if I have the same blood type? Can I give you mine?”
“Thank you, sweetheart, but absolutely not.”
“You need them, kiddo.” Stan murmured into her hair, a trace of a smile on his lips. He was proud, and Kyle was too, that they were raising such a compassionate daughter.
“So you’re just gonna get a stranger’s kidney? That’s weird.”
“I know. But it’s going to be okay,” Kyle said, both for himself and for June.
She unburied herself from Stan’s arm. “Dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Now let’s finish this before it melts,” Kyle said, spooning himself some strawberry.
-
“So, that went well, I think.”
Junie was already asleep in bed, tired out from soccer. The rest of the day went smoothly; she cuddled up to Kyle while they watched a movie and Stan finished the laundry. They had chicken for dinner. Afterwards, she chose for her Dad to read her a bedtime story.
As he and Stan settled into their own bed, Kyle hoped he wouldn’t wake up sick again, but if he did, he felt better knowing that their daughter understood why.
“It did, yeah. I feel better now. She’s just like you, y’know.”
“Ha,” Stan exhaled, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Kind. Loving.”
“Everything you’d want in a kidney, hm?” Stan leaned over and kissed him, lips puckered to make a wet, smacking sound.
“Dude, shut up. Don’t even joke.”
As long as it functioned, and as long as it wasn’t his daughter’s, Kyle would take whatever kidney, as soon as possible, because he didn’t want to miss a moment.
He was even happy enough that he considered calling up Cartman, that fucker, to thank him for getting Kyle this far.