Archive of Our Own

On the first day back at school after winter break, the dominating topic of conversation at lunch was whether Bebe and Kenny had hooked up at Tolkien’s New Year’s Eve party. The details were in dispute, but the one fact that everyone agreed upon was that the rumor had started with a surprise karaoke performance.

Practically the whole senior class had gathered in Tolkien’s living room and den, which were connected by a short, open hallway. With the adults upstairs on the second level that Tolkien’s parents used almost exclusively for entertaining, the teenagers were permitted free reign of the majority of the first floor. After a couple of hours and several rounds of drinking games, Wendy and Bebe snuck off from the group. Stan noticed immediately because he’d barely been able to keep his eyes off of Wendy all night. She was wearing a lilac minidress that had a corset-style top and a tulle skirt. Bebe was wearing the same one in a bright red, and Kenny wouldn’t shut up about how hot she looked. 

“Dudes, I’m telling you. She and Clyde might really be done for good this time. This is my shot.”

"You know Clyde will still try to kick your ass if he gets wind of it, right?” Kyle said.

"Nah, Craig won’t let him. Plus, Clyde’s a pussy; all bark and no bite. He’ll definitely be pissed, though, for sure.” Kenny flashed a bright grin to show how little he cared, and Kyle rolled his eyes. 

“So you’re really gonna go for it?” Stan tried to sound supportive as his eyes kept flicking toward the door.

"Yeah, man, I think so. If she says no, she says no. But I’d kick myself if I didn’t at least gauge her interest.” 

“For chrissakes, she’s gonna say yes, dumbass, we’ve been over this,” Cartman said. “Heidi let it slip that Bebe’s been talking about you for the last week at least. I’m surprised Testaburger didn't tell Stan over here.” 

Stan pretended not to hear the sound of Kyle’s solo cup crackling in his fist at the mention of Heidi. “I mean, Bebe’s her best friend. Wends wouldn’t tell me unless she had permission. Just like I don’t tell her any shit about you guys that you wouldn’t want her to know.” 

Cartman snorted. “Gay. I should probably drink more if I’ll have to continue hearing about Bebe’s tits and your healthy relationship boundaries for the rest of the night.” With that, Cartman stood and headed toward the kitchen.

Kenny went on about Bebe for another minute or so before Kyle, who was now being oddly quiet, got up and declared he had to pee. Stan was certain that it must have been shortly after this that he saw Wendy and Bebe return… with karaoke equipment from Tolkien’s basement. A few of the other girls ran over to help them set it up. 

“Dude, what’s going on?” Kenny elbowed Stan, having just noticed the preparations that Stan had already been watching intently. 

“I have no idea, honestly. Looks like karaoke?”

“Well, only one way to find out. Shall we?”

Stan registered then, as he and Kenny made their way over to what now appeared to be a makeshift stage, that Kyle had reentered the living room at some point and was leaning against the wall in the far left corner. His eyes looked slightly red and puffy. That was weird. Before Stan could think to look around for Cartman, he heard that unmistakable voice behind him.

“Is your hippie girlfriend about to serenade you and make us all watch?” Cartman mimed gagging with the hand not holding his refilled vodka soda. 

“Shut up, Cartman,” Stan said automatically before taking a sip of his own drink. He was going to go check on Kyle, he really was, but then the music started up and it turned out that Cartman had essentially been correct about the serenading. Stan was instantly captivated when Wendy began swaying her hips to the beat, and once she grabbed one of the microphones and looked him directly in the eyes, everything else faded into the background.

“Darlin’, we can’t be alone together. 
One hit and we don’t know any better.” 

Wendy mimed taking a hit from a blunt as she sang, and Stan nearly fell over.

“T-shirts and no skirts on every dresser.
I had to take a little break and get my shit together.” 

Here, Stan again felt his knees threaten to give out as Wendy bent over and ran a hand up her thigh. 

“Ooh, sunsets and yoga.
Ooh, safe sex and no drugs.
Ooh, until you showed up!” 

Wendy pointed at Stan and smiled. Stan felt his own face break out in his signature lovestruck grin forever reserved for the girl in front of him. He couldn’t believe this was happening right now. 

As Bebe joined in on the chorus, her voice actually harmonizing quite well with Wendy’s, Kenny clapped Stan on the back. “Oh my god, dude, it happened, didn’t it? You guys finally—”

Stan went beet red. “Kenny, I swear to god...” Thankfully, Stan didn’t have to continue because Kenny was then distracted by Bebe, who had begun singing the second verse. After glancing around the room at seemingly everyone but Clyde, her gaze finally fell directly on Kenny when she sang the last two lines.

“Ooh, I know I probably shouldn’t, though.
Ooh, but fuck it, baby, take me home!”

“Dude,” Stan turned to Kenny, whose jaw looked like it had become unhinged. “That was wild.” He could feel multiple gazes on himself and Kenny but deliberately didn’t look up lest he accidentally make eye contact with Clyde. 

Kenny blinked twice, seemingly to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing any of you guys later,” he finally managed to say with a cheeky grin as the girls were wrapping up the song. 

“Likewise,” Stan replied, returning his attention to Wendy. During the entire spectacle, no one noticed the way Cartman’s gaze never left Kyle’s tense silhouette across the room— including Kyle, whose eyes remained fixed on the once-spotless hardwood floor. 

What happened from there could only be attested to by Kenny and Bebe, both of whom were being uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the whole thing. Naturally, then, when Wendy and Bebe walked by the boys’ table at lunch, Cartman couldn’t resist the opportunity to stir the pot.

“Well, well, well, look who’s here!” he called out. “Kenny already spent all his money on lunch, so if you’re looking to get paid for a lap dance, you’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

“You’re one to talk, Cartman,” Bebe shot back before Kenny could even respond, a mischievous lilt to her voice. “Wendy and I saw you whispering with Heidi in the kitchen when we were bringing the speakers up. What were you two talking about, hmmm?” 

Cartman fixed Bebe with one of his standard glares. “None of your fucking business! We’re friendly and on good terms; is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, actually,” Wendy said before turning to Stan and lowering her voice. “I just came over here to say hi. I’ll see you in English?” She gave him a quick kiss and then grabbed Bebe by the arm to lead her to their table — where Red and Heidi were already sitting — before things could escalate further. Stan couldn’t help but watch Wendy’s back as she walked away; he never got tired of seeing Marsh 7 on it. With the Cows’ football season having culminated in a respectable, though unsuccessful, playoff appearance after Thanksgiving, most of the team members were either still wearing the letterman jackets they’d been awarded or had given them to their significant others. Speaking of which, right when the girls sat down, Stan noticed that Clyde had come out of nowhere and was now draping his jacket over Bebe’s shoulders, earning a flirtatious giggle from the blonde. Interesting. Stan would have to, gently, ask Kenny about that later. 

When he finally turned back to his own table, Stan was horrified to see that Kyle and Cartman were in a rapidly intensifying argument, and Kyle was standing up to leave. 

“Will you just fucking admit it, Cartman? No one is buying your ‘we’re just friends’ act. You’re trying to get back with her for one reason or another— either it’s some new scheme, or you really are still that selfish and destructive for the hell of it!” Kyle grabbed his tray forcefully, causing some of the water in his plastic cup to splash onto Cartman’s sleeve.

“Hey, watch my jacket, you asshole!” 

“FUCK YOUR STUPID JACKET!” Kyle stormed off before Cartman could react further to the disrespect of his jacket, or the rest of Kyle’s rant. Stan sighed and was about to stand up to go after him when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. The text was from Kyle: Please don’t follow me. I’ll talk to you later.

It was then that, without warning or consent, an image appeared in Stan’s mind of Kyle walking through the halls in Cartman’s letterman jacket. This wasn't the first time Stan had considered the possibility of something between the two of them (he had Kenny to thank for that), and while it made him slightly queasy — this was Kyle and Cartman, friends he’d known since preschool, at each other’s throats from the start —  he also felt a warmth in his chest at the prospect of his best friend knowing that kind of affection, and from a person he so clearly had some type of insane fixation on. But was Cartman capable of giving Kyle that? Did he even want to try? Why on earth was this what Stan’s brain was focusing on right now, and please, god, how could he make it stop? Stan wasn’t sure about the answers to any of these questions, but he was unfortunately left to sit with them, as the remaining members of the table finished eating in relative silence. 

After school, with Kyle at basketball practice and Cartman staying late in the art studio, Kenny and Stan found themselves in Stan’s room, sitting on the bed with a blunt and their U.S. Government textbooks between them. Karen was across the hall in Shelley’s room, having her hair and makeup done. Kenny would always be grateful that Shelley, still home on winter break from CU Denver, was willing to spend time with Karen when he brought her over with him. He hated leaving her at home with their parents when he didn’t have to. In fact, Stan’s parents (as unhinged as Randy could be) had also become somewhat of a safe space, basically accepting Kenny and Karen into their home at any hour with no questions asked. It meant more to Kenny than he could express at times. 

Today, though, he was on a mission to finally address the unspoken issue in their friend group, even if the conversation might rattle Stan a little. He made sure not to be reckless about it, waiting until after he had made Stan laugh particularly hard during the chapter they were reading, with a joke about President Taft’s bathtub. Taking a breath, he said, “Dude, can we talk about Kyle for a sec?”

Stan put his pencil down and looked up. “What about him? I mean, aside from the fact that he was on one at lunch today.” He shook his head thinking about the outburst.

“That’s what I’m talking about! Don’t you think it’s kinda weird that he gets so worked up any time someone brings up Heidi? When it’s been, like, over half a decade since all that went down?” 

“Oh god, not this again. But—” Stan continued quickly before Kenny could protest, “I have been meaning to tell you… I think something happened at the party.”  

“Something besides you likely getting the best blow job of your life?”

“Dude!” Stan blushed. “But, yes, besides that. Or, wait— it wasn’t just me, right? I mean, you and Bebe, I thought? But then she was wearing the jacket, so I just… are you okay?”

Kenny bit his lip but couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up in his chest at Stan’s precious attempt to address the subject gracefully, a subject that — unbeknownst to everyone but Kenny and Bebe — did not require any grace at all. 

“Uh, Ken? I wasn’t trying to be funny. What is going on?”

“I’m really not supposed to, but I guess I can spill now that it’s all over. Nothing happened between me and Bebe. That was kinda the whole point, actually.” 

Stan knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “You’ve seriously lost me.” 

“So, remember the game that sent you guys to the playoffs? How Cartman made that block so you could throw that insane pass to Clyde, and then he ran over like three North Park assholes to get into the end zone?” 

“Of course, but what does that have—” 

“Just let me explain. There was this group of North Park hotties in the stands, right by the end zone, and Clyde was really playing it up for them, I guess. One of them gave him her number, or something? The cheer squad could see the whole thing from the other side of the field, and Bebe was pissed.”

“Oh, right! Wends did mention this was why they broke up this last time.”

“Exactly. Clyde, of course, was trying to get her to take him back immediately because he said he never intended to actually do anything with the number. But Bebe wanted to teach him a lesson first, about how it feels to be disrespected like that. And me being the helpful guy I am, I volunteered as tribute.”

“Wait, so it was all fake? All the stuff you were saying about her? All the stuff she was saying about you? And you didn’t think to maybe mention this to me?!” 

“Hey, listen! It had to be believable to work, right? And honestly, I don’t think Wendy even knew until after the fact… which is the main reason I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d be in an awkward position if it came up and you had to lie to her about it? Maybe that was the wrong call, but I thought I was sparing you from unnecessary conflict. And then, well, I couldn’t tell any of the other guys without telling you, so I just kinda left it.” 

“No, that… that makes a lot of sense, actually. And thanks, you know. For thinking of me like that. It was absolutely the right call, and I’m sorry for freaking out. I’m just shocked— you were really convincing, dude.”

“Ha, thanks. Maybe I should try out for the play this spring. Then I could really get Betsy’s attention.” 

“Wait, Betsy? The punk theatre girl? I quit; I can’t keep up with you.”

Kenny smirked. “Not many can. But enough about me now! You were saying something happened with Kyle at the party?” 

“Oh! Right, so. Just before Wends and Bebe started singing, I saw Kyle across the room. He looked… pretty upset, I guess? I was gonna go over to him, but then, well, yeah.” 

“BFF of the year right here,” Kenny snorted and then immediately held up his arm to block the smack from Stan he knew was coming. “So, what, you think it had something to do with Cartman?”

“I mean… I didn’t at the time, but then Bebe made that comment at lunch about how she saw Cartman and Heidi having some secret conversation in the kitchen, and I don’t know. The timing matches up.”

Kenny regarded Stan hesitantly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

Stan sighed heavily. “I guess you wore me down preaching your theory all of last semester because I’m honestly starting to think you might be right.”

Kenny fist-pumped the air in victory. “Fucking finally! Bro, I am so right. Though, I’m dying to know what made you come to your senses? Aside from the alleged party incident and my persuasive charm of course.” Kenny winked, and Stan rolled his eyes.

“Ha ha. Honestly, what started to seal it for me is how it’s not even just Heidi who makes him act this way! A couple weeks ago, Kyle was ranting to me yet again about how much Cartman hangs out with Butters. Except this time, instead of asking him why the hell he cared so much and getting his usual ‘we have to protect Butters’ bullshit, I had the sudden urge to tell him he just sounded… well, kinda jealous.” 

“Oh my god, did you actually say that?!” 

“Fuck no! I had a date with Wendy and I didn’t feel like showing up with a black eye!”

Stan and Kenny looked at each other then and promptly dissolved into hysterical laughter, both of them practically wheezing as they doubled over on the bed.

“Okay, okay,” Kenny said, catching his breath and wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “So, listen… all week Karen has been playing this pop song nonstop, like blasting it from her room. I was about to ask her to turn it down last night because I was quickly approaching ‘shoot myself in the face’ territory, but then I stopped and listened to the lyrics, and I was like ‘Jesus Christ, this is literally Kyle whenever Heidi gets mentioned!’ and then I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Upon seeing Stan’s face, Kenny held up his hands in protest. “I was only a little high, okay? I’m serious. Here, you gotta listen to it.” Kenny grabbed his phone and opened Spotify, an account he proudly held under the Marshes’ family plan. 

“You’re gonna fuck up your recommendations if you start playing Karen’s music on there,” Stan warned with a laugh.

“It’s just this once,” Kenny said. “Believe me, you’ll see it.” 

Three minutes later, when the song ended, Stan sat in silence, contemplating how to phrase his response.

“Well?” Kenny prompted.

“First of all, I’m gonna need you to define ‘a little high’ because the fact that you had zero issue picturing Kyle fantasizing about making out with Cartman is honestly concerning.”  

“Dude, we all witness that everyday, even if some of us don’t realize it. At least now we can finally do something about it!” 

Stan’s eyebrows shot up. “Do something about it? You can’t seriously be considering getting involved in this? Even if we’re right about Kyle, we risk Cartman losing his shit if he finds out and then holding it over Kyle’s head for god knows what fucking diabolical purpose!”

“Holding it over his head? You’re joking, right? Cartman is out of his mind in love with Kyle, dude. You honestly want to tell me you can’t see that?” 

Stan waved his arms around in exasperation. “I mean, yeah, it seems pretty obvious that he’s got a crush on Kyle, but we can’t be certain of that.”

Kenny snorted, both at Stan’s uncertainty and the understatement of the word “crush” to describe Cartman’s feelings for Kyle. “Uh, yeah, we can. Trust me on this.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but we’re not fucking around with shit like this when it comes to Cartman, Ken. Be real.”

Kenny groaned in frustration. “Stan, I promise you. There’s nothing Cartman cares about more than Kyle.”

“How can you possibly promise that—”

“BECAUSE HE FUCKING TOLD ME!” 

The room was completely silent for a moment, the two friends sharing in their shock at Kenny’s outburst. Finally, Kenny dragged his hand down his face in a slow, agonizing motion, which prompted Stan to utter the single word he could manage to form. “When?”  

“Like, seventh grade? Listen, I’m not gonna get more into it because I’ve already said too much.”

“But I have so many questions!” 

“Too bad? I swore to him I’d never tell. I’m serious about keeping y’all’s secrets, especially when it’s Cartman who actually opens up about personal shit, you know that. I don’t have much, but I have my word, right?”

“Okay, okay, I get it. And you know I appreciate that about you, but then why’d you tell me now?”

“Because you wouldn't stop questioning me!” Kenny huffed. “I’m just saying, now that I know you see it from Kyle’s end, we can help him see it himself before it drives us all fucking insane! And, you know, so he can get out of his own way. Cartman, too, honestly. He’s so afraid of rejection, and like, convinced of it that he won’t even consider telling Kyle how he feels. They need a fucking push, bro.” Kenny took a hit of the forgotten blunt and punctuated his rant by exhaling in Stan’s direction.

Stan crinkled his nose and waved the smoke away. “I mean… I guess I agree, but couldn’t you have just done that without me if you were already so sure about Kyle liking him back?” 

“Stan, my guy, are you dense?” Kenny tapped his head with his index finger in an exaggerated motion and then continued speaking over Stan’s objections. “Kyle is not gonna want to admit to shit before knowing you’re on board. Your ‘gay little friendship’ — as Cartman so affectionately calls it — is too important to him.” 

Stan’s expression softened at that, imagining Kyle’s internal conflict. Suddenly, he remembered a conversation the two of them had about a year ago.

They were in Stan’s car driving home from school when Kyle abruptly turned the music down and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, um, question for you,” Kyle said.

“Uh oh, sounds serious,” Stan joked to try and lighten the heavy aura that had suddenly settled over the car. 

“No, no, it’s just… I was wondering if you think it’s possible to still be friends with someone if you, like, don’t approve of their partner?”

“Dude… is this how you tell me you’ve been lying and have actually hated Wendy all these years?!” 

"What? No, of course not! Wendy’s great. And that’s my point, actually. What if one day I was serious about someone that you didn’t think was great?”

“Oh… okay, well, what matters is that you think they’re great. I’m sure I’d come around if they made you happy? Besides, Cartman actually does hate Wendy and we’re still friends, right?” Stan paused at seeing a visible shift in Kyle’s expression at the mention of Cartman but ultimately chose to ignore it. “Where is this coming from, anyway? Is there someone you like who you think I wouldn’t be cool with?”

“No! I just… I’ve heard that sometimes that kind of thing happens when you get older, and I’d never want us to not be best friends, you know?” 

“Hello? Stanley?” Kenny snapped his fingers in front of Stan’s face, bringing him back from the memory. “You are on board, right?” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Stan sighed. “I… ugh, I won’t say it doesn’t concern me. Cartman is… Cartman. But at the same time, it’s hard to ignore at this point. And when I think back over the years through the lens of this, uh, new perspective you’ve given me, I really don’t see any other way it could’ve gone? They’re too fucking obsessed with each other to give anyone else the time of day.”

Kenny snorted. “Facts. And I get you. But it’s like I said: Cartman’s head over heels. He won’t blow this. He’ll probably come close a time or two, but he’ll never fuck it up beyond repair. I know him better than you do— no offense.” 

“None taken. For real, I’m glad he talks to you about shit. And look, you don’t have to tell me anything else, but you mentioned seventh grade, and… I’m pretty sure that was around the time we all noticed the scars, so… you know, like I said, I’m glad he talks to you. God, Kyle will feel like absolute shit if he ever makes that connection.”

“I know. And I’m sure it’s inevitable because our guy can’t let anything fucking go to save his life. But they’ll talk it through… or yell, as they do. Just hopefully this time, they’ll finally let the sexual tension take over and—”  

“Ken! Gross. Maybe you’ve gotten used to picturing it, but I am not there yet!”

Swatting his hand playfully at Stan, Kenny broke out into a wide grin. “Okay, Sister Mary Marsh. Anyway— back to the plan. Here’s what I’m thinking.” 

That Friday evening, the friends found themselves where they usually did: in Stan’s basement, surrounded by an array of pizza boxes, Switch games, sleeping bags, and beer and weed pilfered from Randy’s stash. Butters would sometimes join them on the rare occasions he wasn’t grounded for any number of minor infractions— thankfully, his parents had let him out this time after much pleading from Stan and Kenny. While they hadn’t told Butters about their plan for fear he’d accidentally spill it to Cartman (or worse, Kyle), they knew there was no way to execute it without his presence. 

So it was at this point, about two hours into their sleepover, with everyone at least one beer deep (except Butters, who was still barely a quarter through his first) and sufficiently full of pizza, that Kenny gave Stan the signal. 

After making sure Kyle was paying attention to the last lap of Cartman and Butters’ surprisingly close Mario Kart race, Stan — sitting on the far left side of the sectional — slid his hand over the remote next to him and pulled it into the crevice between the cushion and arm rest. Keeping his eyes facing forward, he popped open the battery case with his thumbnail and forced out one of the AA batteries. Once he felt the case click back into place, he quickly pulled the remote out, returning it to its designated spot right as Cartman was crossing the finish line in victory. 

“HA! Still the fucking champ, assholes!” Cartman shouted, flinging his controller down.

“Aw, jeez, well, I sure did better than usual!” Butters said. “Good game, Eric.” 

Next to Kenny on the couch, Kyle scoffed loudly, which caused Cartman to whip around from where he had been facing the TV. Kenny tensed up instinctually, knowing what was coming despite it not being part of his and Stan’s concocted sequence of events.

“Sorry, do you have something to say about my superior racing skills, Kyle?” 

“Just that you’re a superior dipshit who I’m going to destroy in the next round!”

Before Cartman could reply and undoubtedly cause a problematic diversion, Kenny interjected to get things back on track. “Hey! It’s my turn to play you next, Kyle. But I need a break and another drink first. Stan, can you load up that new Netflix show we were gonna watch?”

Stan held up the remote and pressed the input button. When nothing happened, he pressed it again with more force. “Aw, man, I think the remote batteries are dead! Cartman, go upstairs and get more batteries.”  

“What? Why me?!”

“Come on, you know the rule— you were the last to play a round!” The “rule” Stan referred to was one the boys had adhered to since elementary school: If they needed anything from another room while gaming, regardless of whose house they were at, the person who had just played the last turn had to go get it. It didn’t make much sense, but few of their traditions did. 

“That’s bullshit! Kyle and Kenny aren’t starting now, so my turn isn’t technically over yet!” 

“Dude, you know that’s not how it works, so the faster you go get the batteries, the faster we can watch the show. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s your fault this rule even exists…  just saying.”

It was, in fact, Cartman himself who had come up with the rule when they were 10 years old. The purpose at the time had been simple: to make Kyle carry three twelve packs of Mountain Dew from the garage to the basement by himself. 

Cartman must have just remembered this, too, because with an exasperated groan, he relented sooner than Stan expected. “Fucking fine! But Butters has to go with me because he played the last round, too.”

“Oh, alright, then,” Butters said agreeably. The two of them made their way up the stairs, Cartman grumbling the whole time.

“Storage closet at the end of the hall on the left!” Stan called after them.

Once Cartman and Butters were out of earshot, Kyle immediately turned to Stan and Kenny. “Has Cartman been coaching Butters at Mario Kart?” 

Kenny struggled to hide his amusement while Stan shrugged. “Dude, I don’t know. Who cares?” 

“Kyle, obviously,” Kenny quipped as he made his way over to his phone, which had been connected to Stan’s bluetooth speaker all evening.

“I do not!” Kyle responded almost petulantly. “It’s just that Butters sucks at Mario Kart, always has. And then tonight, he almost beats Cartman? If this is part of some plan, I swear I’m—” he paused, interrupted by a familiar series of chords replacing the Glass Animals album they had all been listening to. “Oh my god, not this song.”

Between him and Kenny, Stan managed to recover from his disbelief first. “Wait, you know this song?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, unfortunately. Ike’s been trying to learn it all week on your old acoustic. You know how he skipped a grade back in the fall because of his test scores? I guess some girl in his new class is obsessed with that song and he wants to impress her or something. It was so weird because normally I can’t get him to shut up about anything, but he straight up refused to tell me who this girl was…”

Kyle’s rambling was interrupted by Kenny choking on his sip of beer and Stan aggressively slapping him on the back until the coughing stopped. Stan then patted Kenny’s shoulder lightly, a discreet gesture meant to signal Don’t worry, we’ll come back to this later.

“Dude, are you okay?” Kyle asked. “Here, take this.” He handed Kenny one of the water bottles he always brought in an effort to make sure they all stayed hydrated while drinking.

“Thanks, yeah, just… went down the wrong pipe.” Kenny said between breaths and gulps of water. 

By now, the song was nearly entering its second verse and there was no telling how long they had before Cartman and Butters returned, so Stan turned back to Kyle and tried to regroup. “So, you know what the song is about, then?”

“I mean, I got the gist. The singer, I think she’s British? Either way, she's upset over the fact that she keeps seeing the person she’s into with someone else, right? Pretty standard pop song fare.”

“Standard as in… relatable?” Kenny asked, moving his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

Kyle felt himself flush. “No, obviously not. You know I don’t like anyone right now.”

“Actually, we don’t think that’s true— ow!” Kenny rubbed his arm where Stan had elbowed him. Kyle already looked defensive, so they needed to be gentler about this. 

“What Kenny is trying to say is that if you did like someone, we’d support you. Even if it’s someone we know. I mean, especially if it’s someone we know! Like, hypothetically. You know what I mean?” Stan internally cringed as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Someone we know, hypothetically?” Kyle’s blush deepened and he narrowed his eyes. “What are you guys getting at?”

Ah, well. Why not just rip the bandaid off at this point? Stan thought. 

“Kyle, we… we know you like Cartman.” 

“I— what?!”  Kyle practically shrieked before letting out an insane-sounding laugh. “OH. I get it. You guys are fucking with me. Hilarious. Well, I’m onto it now, so you can stop!”

Neither Stan nor Kenny could bring themselves to speak immediately, given the utterly crazed expression on Kyle’s face. In the beats of silence that followed, the final lines of the song’s bridge felt impossibly loud coming through the speaker.

"Your hands on her waist, you’re closer,
watch you make out on your sofa.
Kill me slowly, three times over.
That should be me, I told you."

And that was when Stan clocked it: the infinitesimal twitch in Kyle’s jaw that meant he was clenching his teeth down hard, that meant he was listening in spite of himself.

“Kyle, look. We just want to—” Stan was cut off by the sound of angry footsteps coming down the stairs. 

“Hey, asshole, we’ve been looking for these fucking batteries for like five minutes! I think you’re out.”  

“No, we definitely have some,” Stan countered quickly. “Where’d you even look?” 

“The hall closet on the left, like you said, dipshit!” 

“Oh, did I say the left? It’s the one on the right. My bad!” Stan slapped his forehead in a silly me gesture that Cartman clearly wasn’t buying.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Don’t even try to pretend like this wasn’t on purpose just to be a dick!”

“Why would I do that? That’s just dumb.” 

“Yeah, dude, be real,” Kenny chimed in. “That would be such a waste of time.” 

Cartman narrowed his eyes, still suspicious. “Ugh, whatever. But if I don’t find them in the next two minutes, I’m not going again!” With that, he stomped back up the stairs, Butters in tow.

Stan turned back to Kyle once Cartman and Butters were no longer in view. “Dude, you're my best friend. I could tell that something had been eating away at you lately, and now that I know what it is, I just want to help.” 

Kyle, somehow, looked both resigned and furious at the same time. “You can’t help, Stan. There’s no helping with this. Just… just leave it, okay?” 

At least he’s made it past denying there’s something going on, Stan thought to himself.

Over the speaker, Kenny’s Spotify recommendations had indeed been altered by the earlier choice of song, as the voice of another young British woman now cut through the dead air.

“Girl gone reckless, 
this love’s got me possessive,
like if you lay a hand on him, we’re both getting arrested…”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself," Kenny said in a terrible English accent, while Stan pursed his lips to fight a smile and Kyle glared daggers at both of them. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Kenny held up his hand. “Kyle, what we’re really getting at here is that… whatever you think you saw at Tolkien’s party, it wasn't what it looked like.” 

“What do you…? Who said I saw anything at the party?” 

Before Kenny could respond, a loud crash from upstairs diverted the three boys’ attention. 

“What the fuck was that?” Stan asked no one in particular.

“No clue,” Kenny said. 

Kyle leapt up then and turned toward the stairs, where he almost knocked into Butters, who had come racing back down to the basement. 

“Butters, what happened?” 

“Well, you see,” Butters said hastily, “we were trying to get the supply box down, and it got stuck between some other junk on the shelf, so Eric pulled on it really hard, and it went flying into him and knocked him over, and—”

Kyle cut off Butters’ anxious rambling. “Where is he now?”

“Well, he was lying on the floor of the closet and saying he may never recover, so I came down here to get you.”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Stan, does your mom still keep those ice packs in the freezer now that football season’s over?” 

Stan nodded, and then he and Kenny watched with amusement as Kyle took the stairs two at a time.

When Kyle entered the storage closet, an ice pack under one arm, he saw that Cartman was indeed sprawled on the floor, a heavy-looking plastic container open beside him, and 15-20 loose batteries and other random supplies strewn about. The whole scene was overly dramatic in a way that was just so quintessentially Cartman that Kyle couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Reflexively, he shut the door behind him, and Cartman stirred at the noise, slowly turning onto his side. 

“Butters, did you tell Ky— oh, it’s you.” Cartman winced as he sat up. 

“Did Butters tell me what?” 

Cartman scoffed, trying to hide his uneasiness. “That I had been deeply wounded in the line of duty, what else?” 

“God, you are so ridiculous. Here.” Kyle sat down across from Cartman and shoved the ice pack into his chest.

Cartman looked at it in confusion for a moment before taking it, letting his fingers brush against Kyle’s for as long as he thought he could get away with, plausible deniability intact. “Oh, uh, thanks.” He situated the ice pack across his left shoulder so that it partially reached his sternum. 

Kyle cleared his throat. “So… you were about to ask Butters if he’d told me you were hurt? Why not ask him to tell all of us?”

Resorting to his usual defense mechanism, Cartman smirked mischievously. “To make you clean all this up now that I'm indisposed, obviously.” 

For a second, it was there: the sharp flicker of hurt across Kyle’s face, a blip in his otherwise stony expression. Cartman almost thought he imagined it.

“Right, of course, ha ha,” Kyle laughed sarcastically. “Honestly, this is on me for being stupid enough to come in here. Let’s just cut to the part where I leave, so you can go back to being a dumbass in peace.”

Without thinking, Cartman reached his hand out and placed it firmly on Kyle’s knee to prevent him from getting up. “Kyle, wait. Don’t— just…  just listen.” 

Kyle raised his eyebrows as if to say, I’m listening, asshole, so Cartman continued, for once ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to reverse course. 

“That’s not really why I asked Butters to tell you.”

“Why, then?” 

Cartman hesitated, biting his lip. Did Kyle sound hopeful? Or maybe Cartman was simply losing his mind, or having a brain aneurysm. If that was the case, this was as good a way to go out as any, he supposed.

“Because I wanted you to come check on me, okay? Because if you were worried, then maybe…” Cartman’s hand, which was still on Kyle’s knee, was shaking slightly.

“Then maybe, what?” Kyle nearly whispered. 

Cartman scooted even closer into Kyle’s space and leaned down so their eyes were level. “Maybe you might… I don’t know, feel like something has been changing, too.” The ice pack slipped off of Cartman’s shoulder and onto the floor.

Kyle’s heart was pounding so hard that he felt it in his ears as he leaned forward. Their lips ghosted across each other, but Kyle suddenly jolted back just as Cartman was trying to fully close what little remained of the gap between them.

“Cartman… what are you doing?" Kyle asked shakily.

“Uhhhh, what does it look like I’m doing? 

“Why are you messing with me like this?” There was an unusual sadness in Kyle’s voice that Cartman found increasingly unsettling.

“Messing with you? Kyle, I’m not!” Cartman insisted desperately. 

“Yes, you are! Can’t you just leave me alone?” Kyle turned his face away as he felt his voice breaking, as if that would prevent Cartman from hearing it. 

Cartman, for his part, remained frustratingly perplexed. “Kyle, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t play dumb, Cartman, now of all times!” Kyle snapped. “I’m talking about your girlfriend— you know, the one you were with at the party?”

Cartman didn’t know what he’d been expecting Kyle to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “...Seriously? You can’t actually still be harping on anything that bitch Bebe said. She was just trying to start shit, like always!”

“Cartman, I saw you! I fucking saw you and Heidi in the kitchen, whispering together. Her hand was on your shoulder, and you had your back to me, but I knew—”

“We were talking about you!” 

“You— what?”

“I cannot believe I have to fucking explain this, ugh,” Cartman said, embarrassed. “We’re not together. Heidi was… encouraging me — very aggressively, I might add — to finally tell you I liked you. It’s not like I ever actually told her that, but she said I didn’t need to because she’d known it for ages. And she, uh, was right, by the way. She thought — hell, I thought — I’d made it pretty obvious, but apparently not.”

Several seconds of what Cartman felt was an excruciating silence stretched between them. “Wow, okay, um,” Kyle finally stammered as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “This is a lot to process, but I gotta say, I feel… pretty stupid right now for how I was acting.”

“Oh my god.” Realization gradually washed over Cartman, and his previously concerned face morphed into a grin. “Oh my god, this is actually so funny. I’m sorry, but you were,” he released a burst of giddy laughter, “you were jealous of a girl who was telling me to tell you I was into you because it was so blatant that she noticed!”

Kyle scowled, knowing the deep blush across his cheeks would make lying useless. “Shut up, asshole! So what if I was? Can you try to understand how it looked to me, after earlier that week at my house… or do you not remember that? When I saw you with her, I thought… I thought it was all in my head, that it meant nothing.” 

Cartman’s face sobered. He did remember, all too clearly.

They had been seated at Kyle’s kitchen table with a Physics textbook in front of them. Cartman thought preemptively studying material that hadn't been assigned yet might be the cruelest possible way to spend one of their last remaining days of winter break, but at least he was spending it with Kyle. Plus, he was determined to get into CSU in Fort Collins. He wanted to prove to himself, to Kyle, that he could. While his application had already been submitted by this point, the high school’s guidance counselor had warned him that an acceptance could still be revoked based on the final semester’s grades.

Kyle talked him through some of the concepts, and then he had Cartman try a series of practice problems. After answering the first two incorrectly, he was beginning to grow frustrated, and Kyle could sense it. 

“Hey,” Kyle said, gently putting his hand on Cartman’s arm. “You can do this. Just remember the steps we went over and try not to overthink it.” 

Cartman grumbled something about Kyle being a huge nerd, but nevertheless began working through the third problem. When he put his pencil down, he sighed. “You can check it if you want, but it’s probably wrong.” Still, he watched intently as Kyle repeated the calculations, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. 

When Kyle finally looked up, he was beaming. “Cartman, you got it!” Cartman could only focus on breathing, as the radiant smile on Kyle’s face made him feel lightheaded. Kyle directing genuine praise at him was so infrequent that it never failed to send a thrill through his entire body.

“I’m seriously impressed!” Kyle continued. “This was a tricky one, too, because…” 

Before Kyle could launch into an explanation of the word problem’s particular quirks, Cartman pulled him into a hug. Kyle yelped in surprise but then returned the embrace. When the two of them drew back, there was something different in the air. They made eye contact, and Cartman felt dizzy again— he could see the blush spreading across Kyle’s cheeks so rapidly that it reached the freckles on his nose. 

“Kyle,” Cartman said almost too quietly to be heard. They were still holding each other’s forearms, and Kyle waited for as long as he could bear before letting go of Cartman and slowly pushing out his chair.

“I’m, uh, going to get a snack. Do you want anything?” And that had been that.

Back in the present, Cartman gaped at Kyle. “You were afraid that was in your head? Kyle, it was all I thought about for the next 48 hours at least— about what might have happened if I hadn’t been too chickenshit to make a move.”

“And how was I ever supposed to know that? You never brought it up again!” 

“Well, neither did you!”

They stared at each other openly then, in awe of what was seemingly unfolding between them. Though they both seemed to be contemplating their next move, it was Kyle who eventually spoke first.

“How long have you, you know… felt this way about me?” he asked carefully. 

Cartman tensed and looked away. “What does it matter?”

“It just does, okay? If we’re gonna do this, I need us to be completely honest with each other. Please.”

Cartman sighed heavily, resisting the urge to ask exactly what this was. “Fine. A long ass time, alright? Like, if we’re being realistic, technically elementary school,” he grimaced before continuing, “but I guess seventh grade was the year I fully came to terms with what that shit really meant— what I was really doing.”

Kyle was nothing short of stunned. “Are you seriously saying,” he paused for a beat, “that all the shit you did to torment me most of our lives was actually just because you had fucking feelings for me? Like, beyond some weird humiliation fetish?”

Cartman looked up at the ceiling in a mixture of frustration, shame, and something akin to nervous exasperation. “I guess. I mean, yes, Christ. But, like, I’m also talking about the times I saved you from some crazy bullshit that went down, or the times it wouldn’t matter how much trouble I got into because you’d show up and make it okay. All of that is part of… whatever this is,” he said, mirroring Kyle’s earlier use of the vague word as he motioned between their two bodies with his arm.

There was so much to unpack in what Cartman had just said that Kyle almost didn’t know where to start. Still, sardonic laughter escaped him as he zeroed in on what he thought was yet another example of Cartman’s penchant for hyperbole. “I certainly remember saving your ass a few times, but I’m pretty sure the only time you rescued me was so I could suck your balls. Which in retrospect was pretty gay, but at the time, I just thought—”

“Kyle.” 

Kyle was struck silent for a few seconds, the gravity in Cartman’s tone unnerving him. “What?”

Cartman blanched, then quickly recovered. “Nevermind, just. Look, I’m trying to be serious here, okay?” 

Kyle softened at that. He knew how terrified of vulnerability Cartman was, so he resolved to try and not nitpick his words. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that…” Kyle’s brows furrowed as he replayed Cartman’s statement in his head. “Wait, seventh grade…?” So much for not getting caught up in the details. Before he could think better of it, Kyle reached over and grabbed the brunet’s wrist from his lap where he'd been nervously wringing his hands. 

Cartman narrowed his eyes immediately, but the fear there belied any anger he tried to project. “Kyle—” 

“No! Listen to me.” Kyle’s eyes were quickly becoming wide and glassy and he was tightening his grip on Cartman, causing the sleeve of Cartman’s hoodie to bunch up slightly. “When you were… that was— was that because of this? It wasn’t, was it?”

“Not everything’s about you, believe it or not,” Cartman huffed defensively. “I had a lot of shit going on then. But it’s not like this exactly helped matters.” 

“Cartman…” Kyle trailed off before finding the words he was looking for. “Why didn’t you say anything? You acted like you were fine because you started therapy, and I thought there was more to it, but I should have— I never asked, and you just… you never mentioned it, ever.” 

Cartman groaned in frustration. “I swear to god, if you unleash the Kyle Broflovski Moral Guilt Parade right now, I’m going to lose my shit. You didn’t know, I didn’t want you to know, it’s not your fault, and it isn’t important anymore!”

“It is, though!” Kyle argued. “You were going through something serious, but you didn’t talk to any of us about it.” Kyle didn’t actually know if that was true, but what he really meant was, “you didn’t talk to me,” and they both knew it.

“Jesus, Kyle, you still don’t get it!” Cartman snapped, finally yanking his arm away. “I didn’t want to talk to you! You were the last person I wanted to talk to, for god’s sake! I may have been too young to have the words for it, but I knew it then like I know it now— I was never going to get over you. I fucking hated you for it, the way you made me so goddamn crazy, but I also just… I was messed up because, I don’t know, it kind of fucking sucked to let myself feel what I felt, what I still fucking feel, knowing you’d eventually be with someone great, someone a million fucking times better than me, and I’d have to choose between not having you in my life at all or watching while my world basically burned the fuck down around me!”

Cartman was breathless by the time he stopped speaking. But even as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment at having revealed so much, he managed to give Kyle a look that made Kyle feel like he might split apart. It was a look that said, Do you understand what I’m trying to fucking tell you?

Kyle was pretty sure he did, but he both wanted and needed the words all the same. “Eric…” he whispered, almost like a plea.

Cartman sharply inhaled at the use of his first name and slowly brought his shaking hand back up to cup Kyle’s jaw, brushing his thumb across Kyle’s cheekbone. “Kyle, I…” Cartman shut his eyes for a moment to gather himself. “I, um. I think… no, I mean, I’m sure. That I… ” He opened his eyes then and looked into the green ones staring back at him in suspense, the dam finally breaking against his better judgement. “I love you.”

Kyle froze, not expecting those words to actually leave Cartman’s mouth, now or ever. He stared at the other boy for what felt like several whole minutes but was, in reality, probably only upwards of 30 seconds. He was searching Cartman’s face for any hint of deception, any ghost of a smirk that would preface the punchline of a sick joke. Finding nothing there but sheer, unbridled terror, his body made the decision before the rest of him could overthink it.

Kyle lunged at Cartman, nearly knocking him backwards as he kissed him like his survival hinged on it. Cartman’s brain took a few seconds to catch up, having momentarily short-circuited, but then his hands were on Kyle’s waist, tugging him into his lap while everything in his periphery melted into a blur.

“God, you’re—” Cartman pulled back, out of breath again and eyes never wilder. "So fucking incredible.”

Kyle blushed and rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to lay it on that thick; I think it’s pretty clear I’m into you.” 

Cartman blinked incredulously. “You really think I’m saying that for kicks? I just told you how long I’ve been picturing this exact moment. Only, I never thought it would actually fucking happen. Wait. This is actually happening, right?”

Kyle laughed lightly, his eyes soft. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is. Only took us until halfway through senior year to get our shit together, huh?” He meant the comment as a lighthearted joke, but Cartman wasn’t laughing. In fact, Kyle noticed Cartman’s expression was rapidly shifting to something dark and sad, with a hint of panic. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I can’t do this.” 

“What? What are you talking about? Cartman, look at me!” Kyle grabbed Cartman’s forearms and kept himself firmly planted in the larger boy’s lap, as he could feel Cartman fidgeting with an intention to stand up. “You can’t tell me you fucking love me, then suddenly change your mind and—” 

“I do fucking love you, Kyle! That’s the point. I fucking love you so much it physically hurts. But in a little over six months, you’re going to leave. It’ll be Harvard, or Yale, or wherever the fuck, but it won’t be close by. I’ll hopefully go to state school and maybe we’ll try to make it work, but it won’t because you’re you and I’m me. And I’m sorry, but I can’t. I can’t start this if it’s just going to end.”

The look on Cartman’s face coupled with his words nearly broke Kyle’s heart. Did he really think that was the only possible outcome? Did he really think so little of himself, that Kyle was so above him? Remembering the urgency of the situation, Kyle shook his head and addressed the other boy sternly. “Eric.”

This second invocation of his first name had the desired effect of getting Cartman to both stop talking and trying to stand so that Kyle could continue. “Would you please quit telling me how I feel? Especially when you’re wrong? You being you and me being me is exactly why this can work, you dumbass. When have either of us ever given up on anything, especially when it comes to each other?” 

Cartman looked startled but then slowly began settling back down. “First of all, you’re the dumbass. But… you make a compelling point, maybe, when you put it like that. That is, if you really mean it?”

The corners of Kyle’s mouth slowly turned up in a smile, his heart fluttering with fondness at the tentative hopefulness in Cartman’s voice. “Yes, Cartman, I really mean it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

With that assertion, Cartman suddenly got a bit of a deranged glint in his eyes, as his hands, which had previously been stationed at Kyle’s waist, moved higher up the redhead’s back, one snaking its way into the loose curls at the nape of his neck. “In that case, I need to be really clear about something.”

Kyle shivered a bit under the other boy’s large hands and intense stare, and he had to look away lest he lose his ability to form coherent thought. “Okay?” he asked, gazing off to the side.

“You’re mine. No one else gets to touch you like this or know what you taste like. Anyone who thinks they do has a death wish. I will beat them to a bloody pulp. But if it’s you looking, I can’t handle that.” The rare vulnerability was back, flashing across Cartman’s features just as Kyle dared look up. “You have to belong to just me. Please.”

Kyle’s face was so hot, he felt feverish. “I’m not property, Cartman.”

Cartman shrugged. “You can be mine and not property. Both can be true.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Kyle said in exasperation, before his voice dropped slightly. “But… you know… yes, or whatever.” 

“I’m sorry, what was that, Kyle?” 

“You fucking heard me!” In Kyle’s opinion, the shit-eating grin Cartman now had on his face should have been all kinds of illegal.

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t, Kyle. You’re going to have to speak up.” 

Kyle groaned. “Yes, okay? YES.”

“Yes, what?” Cartman tilted his head in faux innocence.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

“I’ve never been more serious, actually.”

“YES, I’m fucking yours, you insufferable asshole!” Kyle crossed his arms defensively. “For some godforsaken reason. It must be me with the death wish.”

“Nah, I think that ship has sailed,” Cartman said in an almost-whisper, leaning down so their faces were once again an inch apart. “This is heaven, I’m pretty sure.”

Kyle hummed contentedly as their lips met again. When he eventually pulled back, he fixed Cartman with a serious gaze of his own. “It goes both ways, you know.”

“What does?” 

“The understanding of this relationship,” he said, his mind flitting to those British singers' lyrics from earlier. “You also have to be just mine.”

After a moment of giddiness over Kyle’s use of the term "relationship," Cartman laughed, loud and vibrant, earning him a rather hard smack on the arm from Kyle.

“Ow, Kyle! What the fuck?”

“I should be asking you that! You think you can have me all to yourself and not promise me the same? Do you really not see how fucked up that is?”

“Kyle, no,” Cartman quickly collected himself, “god, no, it’s not that at all. I just found it pretty funny that after everything I’ve said tonight, you still thought that was even a question. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever not been yours.” 

To that, the only fitting response Kyle could muster was to wrap his arms around Cartman’s neck and pull him back down to his waiting mouth.

On the other side of the door, Kenny clapped his hands together and turned to face Stan and Butters, who were lingering awkwardly at the top of the staircase, waiting for their friend to report back. “Okay! Not exactly how we drew it up, but mission accomplished, I think?” 

“Really?” Stan breathed a sigh of relief and started to approach along with Butters, whose face still wore a confused and worried expression. Kenny, however, made a timeout sign with his hands and bit his lip to fight back a grin. 

Stan understood immediately and halted his progress, gently grabbing Butters by the arm. They could support whatever was happening in there without needing to see or hear it. “Come on, let’s go back downstairs.” 

Butters frowned slightly. “Shouldn’t we check on them?”

“They’re fine, Butters,” Stan replied, trying to sound both reassuring and terse.

“Are you sure? Eric seemed awful sore earlier when we first came up here, and if he and Kyle are going at it, I’m afraid—” 

“Oh, they’re going at it, all right,” Kenny laughed.

Several suggestive expressions from Kenny later, understanding showed on Butters’ face at last. “Oh! Uh, well, I sure am happy for Eric finally having his dreams come true! Though, uh, not to be selfish and all… but I wish they could’ve picked a different room.” 

Kenny and Stan looked at Butters quizzically.

“You know, since I’m not allowed to watch much TV at home and all,” Butters explained, “I was really looking forward to it. Always next time, I suppose.”

“Actually, um, don’t worry, Butters,” Stan said. “I may know how we can fix the remote.” 

The obnoxiously loud sequence of Spotify-recommended songs that Kenny never bothered to change or turn off had created a background din that could be heard from the closet above for the last half hour. When this suddenly ceased, it shook Cartman and Kyle from their trance, and Cartman let out a heavy sigh, realizing what was coming. 

“Look, Kyle,” he said, “I would happily stay here all night, but I know you’re about to start freaking out because the guys must be wondering about us. So, we should probably head that off now and go back downstairs. After they’re asleep, we can—”

“They’re not wondering about us.”

Cartman blinked. “What?”

Kyle shook his head as he thought about his earlier conversation with Stan and Kenny. “We should still go down soon, but I think… I think we’re exactly where they expect us to be.” 

It was eight days later on a Saturday evening, lying in his bed and watching a movie, Kyle’s head resting on his chest, that Cartman chose to broach the subject that had been on his mind pretty much since he and Kyle had first kissed. 

“Hey, babe?” 

Kyle would never admit it, but he liked how the pet name sounded when it was reserved just for him. “Yeah?” 

“When we tell people, you know, whenever you’re ready... are you gonna wear my jacket at school?”

Kyle’s head shot up. “Your jacket?” 

“Yeah, my jacket. You know, the stupid one,” Cartman winked, smirking. 

Kyle, cheeks flushed, rolled his eyes with annoyed affection before smirking back. “I thought you’d never ask. I was starting to get worried I’d have to find something else for Monday.” He then watched in satisfaction as Cartman’s face went from shock to pure joy to devious excitement in a matter of seconds. 

And that was when Cartman knew it: Though he hadn’t yet said the words, Kyle loved him back. He was holding it close to the chest in all the newness of their situation; he was waiting, perhaps, for the right moment in his mind, or to really ensure his heart was safe. Which was silly, Cartman thought, because, even above Mr. Kitty, his Xbox, and his mom (who only made the list when she wasn’t pissing him off), Kyle and his heart were the things in this world that Cartman cared most about protecting. Nonetheless, he would demonstrate that he could be patient. They had the rest of forever ahead of them— Kyle himself had said so. And Cartman was determined that, about this one specific thing, his boyfriend was going to be right.