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Kenny sighed and combed his fingers through wet, tangled hair as he stepped out of his lukewarm shower.
Work had been a killer, and all he wanted was a hot shower but alas. He had to work with what he was given; shoddy plumbing and mildew in the grout.
On the plus side, he had the house to himself. Karen was at a sleepover, Kevin was… somewhere, and he hadn’t seen his parents since he graduated high school a few months ago. It was a little lonely, but it meant he could do whatever the fuck he wanted for a while.
Probably sit in his bed and watch videos ranking the deadliest species of shark or something. Which was maybe sad, for a Saturday evening, but it’s not like he had anything better to do.
He’d just finished drying his body off and started brushing his teeth when his phone rang. He glanced at it before answering and putting it on speaker. "Hey Stan."
"Hey… What are you up to?"
"Nothing. Why?"
"Are you home?"
Kenny nodded and spat into the sink. "Uh huh."
"Alone?" Stan asked.
Kenny paused and looked up, making eye contact with himself in the mirror. Oh fuck yes. "Super alone. Lonely even. Why, do you wanna come over and fix that?"
There was a long silence. "Can I?" Stan’s voice came out quiet, all crackly through the speaker.
"Door’s unlocked. I’ll be waiting for you."
The call ended and Kenny practically skipped to his bedroom. Things with Stan were… good. They weren’t dating or anything like that, they were just two buddies who helped each other out occasionally. It really hadn’t affected their friendship much at all, actually. They’d still play video games and eat pizza and talk about girls, just sometimes that routine was broken up with some sex.
It was kind of the ideal situation for someone like Kenny, who saw the prospect of a relationship as terrifying. Something he wanted, yes, but in the abstract sense. In the future, when he was a better, more adjusted person.
This thing with Stan was kind of like training wheels. He knew they had to come off eventually, but for now it was good. Really good.
Kenny combed his fingers through his hair and debated if it was worth getting dressed at all. He decided he didn’t want to scare Stan off, so settled for his cleanest t-shirt and boxers, fresh out the laundry. He spared himself a glance in the mirror and nodded approvingly. It’s not like he had to make much effort for Stan, that was kind of the whole point.
Still…
Kenny ran through the rest of his hookup checklist in his head, concluding everything was ready just as he heard the front door scraping open.
"Ken?" Stan’s voice was soft, like he was worried about attracting attention despite the confirmed empty house.
"I’m in my room!" Kenny turned around as Stan appeared in his doorway, looking lovely and out of place in his shitty bedroom.
His shoulders sagged and he smiled, looking almost relieved for some reason. "Hi."
Kenny grinned. "What’s up hot stuff?"
Stan just smiled weakly and shrugged. Kenny tilted his head in confusion and sat on the edge of his bed. He watched, expectantly, as Stan sunk down beside him.
Something was… off. His body tense, shoulders hunched over. He clutched the sheets in his hands and stared at his own lap for a minute, before his bottom lip wobbled.
That was all the warning Kenny got before Stan threw his arms around him and sobbed . It wasn’t just a few tears, no this was big. His whole body was shaking and he was clinging onto Kenny like he was a life raft in the middle of a tsunami, verging on hyperventilation.
Stan cried a lot. Like a lot. He cried at movies and songs and every single time he’d argued with Wendy. But to be honest Kenny wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him like this.
The last time he could recall was when they were kids and Sparky got put down. Everyone had sat around comforting him for a while, lots of awkward back patting, before Kyle and Cartman went home for dinner. Kenny hadn’t had anywhere better to be so he’d stayed, and apparently missed some kind of unspoken signal Stan was giving out to just leave him alone with his grief, because he’d broken into similarly messy sobs shortly after. Kenny remembered holding his hand; it was the first time he’d held a boy’s hand since he learnt that it could be perceived as anything other than friendly. He hadn’t known what else to do.
He didn’t know much more now, so Kenny found himself staring at the wall as he slowly patted Stan’s back. He wanted to say something kind and comforting, but all he could think was that he was sat there in his underwear.
There was an undercurrent of panic of course, concern that something was really really wrong. But mostly the underwear thing. It was a sharp, humiliating reminder that he was an idiot.
"I’m sorry," Stan sniffled, suddenly pulling back and wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I’m sorry I’m—"
Kenny shook his head and hugged him again, pulling his head against his chest. "No no it’s okay… You’re okay," he reassured. "Just let it out."
"I’ve had a really bad day," Stan sobbed. "Like that sounds dramatic but it was so so bad and I just— I’m really tired."
Kenny nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "Do you… wanna talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay, that’s fine. Um…" Kenny cast a glance around his bedroom, still patting Stan’s head in what he hoped was a comforting manner.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, just that he had no idea what to do when your best friend slash low commitment casual hookup is crying into your chest. This was a situation he’d never been in before.
This was, maybe, a situation no one had ever been in before.
Suddenly his eyes latched on the empty plastic cups that had accumulated on his desk. "Do you want some water?" he blurted out. Crying was dehydrating after all.
Stan pulled back to look at him with watery red eyes and a runny nose. He seemed slightly startled by the sudden offer. "Yeah," he said hesitantly. "Okay."
Kenny nodded and swiped his thumbs under Stan’s eyes to do away with the tears that lingered there. "I’ll be back."
He patted Stan on the back awkwardly before making his escape to the kitchen. He braced himself against the sink, staring at the drain. Holy. Fuck.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever misread a situation so badly in his life. And he was just so grateful he’d thought to cover up a little before Stan got there.
Talk about premonition or whatever. Clearly that was an act of God; Kenny would have to thank the big man next time he saw him.
For the moment he settled for a quick silent prayer, before whipping his phone out. If anyone knew what was going it, it would be Kyle. Kenny sent him a quick text and received a response almost instantly.
Kenny: whats up w stan???
Kyle: ???
Well… shit.
He sent a hasty never mind text to Kyle and hoped that satiated him, then ran his hands through his hair with a groan. Stan had come to him first.
Stan came to him first.
Not Kyle.
Maybe they’d had a fight and that was why Stan was upset? But he was fairly sure Kyle would have mentioned that by now, he always got pretty incensed on the rare occasions it happened and tried to do damage control on the narrative before Stan had a chance to say something.
So something else. Something that he couldn’t talk to Kyle about. Kenny wasn’t aware such a thing existed.
It had always just been those two against the world, with Kenny watching from the outside. For a while it had bothered him, but not so much anymore. He was used to it. In fact, he thought maybe it was better that way.
None of that mattered though, because Kyle wasn’t there and Kenny was and Stan was crying in his room.
He should probably do something about that.
Kenny returned to the bedroom, cup of water in hand, and held it out to Stan. "So what’s bothering you? Really?"
Stan took the cup in both hands and stared into it. "I don’t know," he whispered. "I just feel shitty."
Kenny nodded and sat down next to him, tucking an arm around Stan’s shoulders. "Okay. That’s okay, Stan, I think everyone feels that way sometimes—"
"Ken it’s all the time," Stan said quietly, looking up to meet his gaze. "And I’m really… getting tired of it."
Kenny swallowed. "Stan…"
"I don’t want to feel like this anymore," Stan said, voice wavering again. "I feel hollowed out and numb and I don’t know how to fix it."
Kenny stared at him, completely unsure of what to say. That was common for him, but this was poor timing. "Stan," he repeated, like the worst broken record in the world.
Stan shook his head and stood up suddenly, spilling some water on the carpet. "I’m sorry," he said quickly, pressing the cup into Kenny’s hands. He just put it down and stood up too, but couldn’t get a word in before Stan continued. "I shouldn’t have come here, sorry for bothering you, I’m just gonna—"
"No! No, no, no, come here." Kenny reached up and hugged him as tight as possible to stop him leaving. "I’m just… not sure what to say."
"Me neither."
Kenny squeezed him one last time before pulling back and holding onto his hands. He gently guided Stan back down to the bed and smiled at him, hopefully reassuringly. "You never bother me, okay?"
It was true. The nature of being in such a close knit group was that they all butted heads. Kyle and Cartman, obviously, but the rest of them too. They all had their things that got on the rest of the group’s nerves. But Kenny couldn’t remember the last time he’d found Stan genuinely annoying. All his little habits had somehow become endearing with age.
"Kyle finds it annoying," Stan said mirthlessly. "It’s not like he’s trying to but… I can tell."
"I’m sure he doesn’t," Kenny reassured, even though he could kind of tell too. Kyle had his strengths, but he wasn’t very emotionally intelligent. Not that Kenny was a leading expert in that field either though.
"No he does. But you’re more patient and I um… I just like being with you. Because I think you get me."
"Yeah?"
Stan nodded. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes I think you’re sad too."
Kenny almost flinched but he didn’t, just kept rubbing Stan’s back. "Look, Stan, you can always talk to me okay?" he said, instead of addressing it directly. "I might not know what to say but… I really care about you, and I wanna know what’s going on in your head."
Stan spared him a small smile. "I really care about you too, Ken."
Kenny smiled too and ran a hand through the hair at the nape of Stan’s neck. It was getting long in a boyish sort of way, curling around his ears and jawline. It was pretty cute.
Stan was pretty cute.
Kenny hesitated for a moment before kissing Stan’s cheek. It was crossing a line a little bit, blurring the border between when they were hanging out and hooking up, but it felt like the right thing to do.
He wanted to do it.
"Do you wanna stay the night?" he asked before Stan could comment, continuing to push his luck. "We can just chill and talk about it in the morning when you’ve had some sleep."
Stan looked up. "Is that… allowed?"
"Why not? It’s not like there are rules. But if you don’t want to—"
"I do," Stan said quickly. "Thanks I… don’t wanna be alone."
"Don’t worry about it." Kenny stood up and stretched his arms over his head, before pulling his closet open to try and find something that would fit Stan. He’d been blessed with all the height and broad shoulders and farm boy muscles Kenny had not. "Might have to sleep in your boxers."
"That’s fine. Not like it’s nothing you haven’t seen."
Kenny huffed a laugh and let his closet door swing closed. Less than he’d been hoping to see, but fine. "Yeah. Plus you know… even out the score."
He gestured to his own outfit and watched Stan undress, eyes lingering when his shirt lifted up. Damn it.
"Yeah sorry for crashing right when you got out the shower. You should’ve told me to hang on, give you some time to get dressed."
Kenny nibbled on his bottom lip. "Uh… yeah."
Stan narrowed his eyes. "Hold on did you think—"
"It doesn’t matter, okay?" Kenny dismissed, face so hot he was sure it would melt.
"You thought this was a sex thing."
Kenny sighed and held his hands out in frustration "In my defence, normally when someone I’m sleeping with calls me up and asks if I’m alone and if they can come over… it is a sex thing."
Stan thought about it for a moment before putting his head in his hands. "Sorry."
"Hey it’s fine. And not that you have to or anything, but if you wanna make it up to me another day that’s cool too."
Stan laughed and peeked through the gaps in his fingers. "Yeah okay."
Kenny smiled and flopped back onto his bed, patting the pillow next to his. "Come on, you must be tired."
Stan laid down beside him and reached out to take a strand of Kenny’s still damp hair between his fingers. He twisted it round and round, a thoughtful look on his face.
"I’m glad I came here," he said eventually, glancing up slightly to make eye contact.
Kenny smiled and inched forward in order to kiss his forehead. Stan’s cheeks flushed and it made him feel warm inside. "Me too. And you can always come here, whenever you want. Or we can go somewhere else or—" Kenny inhaled deeply when he realised he was rambling. "Just… next time you wanna cry, I’ll be there. If you want me."
Stan swallowed and rested his head against Kenny’s collarbone, arms looped loosely around his waist. "Thanks Ken."
Kenny held him close and inhaled the scent of Stan’s hair. "I love you," he murmured.
He was allowed to say that. They were friends. They said it all the time. Or it was implied.
Stan snored softly in response and Kenny sighed to himself. Maybe that was for the best.
And maybe this friends with benefits thing was more complicated than he thought.
But for the moment, Kenny had Stan asleep in his arms and that felt really good.
"I love you," he repeated, pressing a kiss to Stan’s temple before closing his eyes himself. He fell asleep quicker than he had in months.