Work Text:
It’s another generic party; the same one that’s been happening since sophomore year. In all honesty, these parties are so ubiquitous at this point it just seems like one long, long extended one.
Kyle sighs as he looks on at the usual Saturday night scene: there’s Stan, obviously drunk, pushed up against some girl with dark hair, Clyde doing some stupid attempt at a keg stand with Kenny egging him on, and Cartman failing to hit on some girls in the kitchen. Kyle leans up against the wall, red solo cup in hand, he’d say he’s pretty buzzed even though he’s still got about a quarter left in his drink. He’s a light weight, as Stan would say.
The music is way too loud in here, he thinks, but it’s useless to complain—it is a party after all. Kyle uses his foot to push his foot off the wall, maneuvering through the crowd over drunk, horny teenagers to make it to the kitchen. He sees the island, filled to the brim with a mix of liquor bottles, where a shiny, auburn bottle calls to him. He picks it up, perfect, it's Fireball, he tosses his shitty red solo cup aside. He didn’t like that drink anyways, it was some stupid drink Kenny had made him.
There’s only about a fifth left in the bottle so Kyle doesn’t feel too bad when he hugs it to his chest, content on finishing it off himself. He wanders aimlessly as he sips at his bottle. He passes by Tolkien and Jimmy, they aren’t drinking. They never do, Tolkien’s too responsible and with all of Jimmy’s handicaps, he just prefers not to. On the weekends Kyle has work in the morning, or he just doesn’t feel like drinking, he usually hangs out with them. It’s nice to hang out with someone as competent as Tolkien, and Jimmy is actually pretty damn funny when he’s making fun of the way Cartman waddles when he’s intoxicated. He offered a clumsy wave to them.
The music seems to be getting louder as he drinks. He’s nearly finished the bottle, he’s sweaty, and he swears at least 3 people have tried to play grab-ass with him within the last 10 minutes. He’s getting more and more irritated as he stands in the living room at whosoever house he was at.
He didn’t even want to come to this dumb party anyways, Stan had basically kidnapped him from his home under the guise of a regular sleepover. Yeah, screw that, Stan and Kyle haven’t had a proper sleepover since freshman year. Their sleepovers consist of Kyle, sometimes drunk, dragging an obviously drunk Stan to the car and them crashing in a Walmart parking lot.
Kyle continues to push through the crowd, falling up the staircase as he escapes to the second-story. There’s less people up here, thank Jesus, but the catch: everyone that is up here is making out. Great, just what he needed. He’s furious now as he stumbles through the sounds of kissing and other noises he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He jiggles every door knob in an attempt to find the bathroom: a reprieve from all the noises going on around him, but to no avail, every door is locked shut. Fuck.
Kyle chugs the rest of the Fireball, still cradling it to his body as he makes his way back down the stairs. He’s really stumbling now, nearly falling down the steps; however, catching himself before he can successfully embarrass himself in front of everyone.
He winds up back in the kitchen, eyeing the sliding glass door. Fresh air is literally calling Kyle’s name. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol in his system but he swears he can see the fog beckon him outside. He quickly grabs a small bottle of whatever alcohol before stepping out onto the wide porch of this insanely big house. Are they at Tolkien's?
He breathes in a breath of fresh air, sighing softly. The music is still too loud, so he presses on, walking around the porch. It seems to wrap around the entire house, Jesus this house was big. He walks to the front of the house, the music growing softer with each step— the party happening deeper in the house than in the front.
As he rounds the corner to the front steps, he’s met with a person already there. He can’t make out his face due to blurry vision but he’s leaned over the porch railing, smoke apparating from his blocked face. Kyle sniffs, a weird smell filling his nose and making him cough. The person turns around at the sight, Kyle steps closer to see who it is: oh, Craig.
Kyle nurses his bottle as he clumsily collapses onto the stop of the front steps leaning against the railing next to where Craig’s standing. His eyes are burning and he realizes he’s panting. He closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing. He hears Craig inhale for a bit before exhaling loudly, more of that weird smell filling Kyle’s nostrils.
He must’ve been like that for too long because he feels a soft kick at his back. He blinks up at Craig, seeing a stupid smirk on his face.
“Ya doing okay there, Broflovski?” Craig’s voice is its usual deadpan.
Kyle grumbles, lightly swatting at the back of Craig’s knee, but he ends up missing, his arm swinging through the air and collapsing over his knees. The pitiful act evokes a laugh from Craig.
“You sure you need to keep drinking that?” There’s a hint of giggling now.
“You sure you need to be some loser at a party sitting out here alone smoking?” Kyle sniffs.
Craig rolls his eyes, taking another inhale. He holds it for long enough that he starts coughing: “I do it by choice”.
Kyle turns to look at him, head still on his knees, it’s the only thing keeping him from vomiting, “And why is that?”
Craig smiles at him now, flicking ash off the joint in his fingers.
“My shits too good to share with any of these fuckers,” He provides.
Kyle lets out a huff-laugh kinda thing, bringing the bottle he’s claimed as his back to his lips.
They fall into a comfortable silence, Kyle taking baby sips of whatever shitty alcohol he snagged and Craig taking hits of his allegedly “superior” weed. Eventually, Craig looks down at Kyle, the red-head sitting back on his elbows now, long legs stretched out onto the steps below him. Craig takes the joint and lowers it to Kyle. He doesn’t say anything but the offers there.
Kyle glances at it, before peering up at Craig: nothing on his face. He smiles politely but shakes his head ‘no’.
“I don’t smoke”.
Craig shrugs, “Missing out”.
He retracts his arm and brings the joint back to his lips. Kyle stares at him as he smokes. There’s no denying he found Craig at least handsome. There was a sort of bad boy energy, however cringy that may sound, that always pulled Kyle towards Craig. Especially since junior year when Craig walked into class in the middle of November with those god damn piercings on his lips, he later found out they were something called ‘spider bites’. Whatever they were, they were hot, and it only further increased Kyle’s urge to kiss Craig.
“C’mon, Tucker, your weed isn’t that good,” Kyle’s only teasing, drunkenly giggling as he looks straight ahead at the dark yard. There were stars out tonight: it was really pretty.
Craig playfully scoffs, sticking his middle finger down at Kyle: “Don’t knock it till you try, Broflovski”.
Kyle considers it for a moment, “I’ve never smoked before,” it’s only a rhetorical statement, he’s thinking out loud in his drunken state.
Craig hums, pushing off the railing to sit beside Kyle. The movement causes Kyle to notice Craig’s not wearing a jacket, which makes sense since it's like the middle of April, but the short sleeves reveal the muscle in Craig’s arm. He’s not insanely buff, but there’s enough there for it to be noticeable—which Kyle does. He swallows as he feels heat creep up his neck and engulf his face. Craig’s wearing some ridiculous pokemon tshirt, it's geeky and it makes Kyle snort. Craig glances at him, a smirk playing at his lips as he settles down next to Kyle, stretching out his long legs. His knees are knocking into Kyle’s calf.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re wearing a Pokemon tshirt, dude, that’s so…fucking lame” Kyle’s full blown laughing now, laying down on his back, hand braced over his stomach and an arm swung over his eyes.
“Pokemon’s not lame dude,” Craig argues, flicking Kyle’s ear.
“Ow!” Kyle removes his arm from his face to cover his ear and glare at Craig, “It totally is, dude, I haven’t even thought about it since like middle school”.
Craig just rolls his eyes, “Am I showing you how to smoke or not?”
Kyle shifts his body weight, turning towards Craig, supporting himself with one arm while the other reaches for the blunt. He’s not as drunk as he was, maybe slightly buzzed, but his bottle was long forgotten on the steps.
Craig gives up possession of the joint, “Okay so basically just inhale, hold and swallow a little, then exhale. Don’t hold it in for too long or you’ll start coughing”.
Kyle nods, bringing the end of it to his mouth. He inhaled deeply, filling his mouth with too much smoke, holding it in the best he could. He hit his chest as smoke poured out of his mouth before he went into a full blown coughing fit. Sitting straight up, leaning over his knees. Craig howled with laughter behind him, lightly patting his back to help Kyle through his coughing fit.
Once Kyle’s coughing had subsided, and Craig was gently rubbing his back, Kyle turned to look at Craig, head still between his knees, “Dude, that sucks. How the fuck do you do that every day?”
Everyone knew Craig came to school everyday, it wasn’t exactly a secret even if Craig wasn’t going around with a large sign that said “I smoke pot!”.
Craig only smiles sympathetically, “It just takes some time to get right, its all good”.
They sit like that for a bit until Kyle rights himself again, Craig offers the joint again, but Kyle shakes his head again. “Fuck no, get that outta my sight!”
Craig laughs and rolls his eyes, taking another hit. “You know there’s another way I can get you high,” it's a suggestion that intrigues Kyle.
“Okay, how?”
Craig smiles and sits up straight, turning to face Kyle fully, “Only thing you gotta do is open your mouth and inhale when I tell you to”.
Kyle nods and feels one of Craig’s hands cup his jaw, he feels a blush creep back in as warmth sprouts under the skin that Craig’s touching. He watches as Craig brings the joint back to his mouth, takes a long inhale and holds it in. His other hand comes to cup Kyle’s face fully as he brings their mouths together. Kyle squeaks as he feels the cold metal of Craig’s piercing push into his bottom lip.
There’s smoke filling his mouth, Craig’s blowing the smoke into his mouth. That should not be as hot as it is, but nonetheless, Kyle squirms as he feels a dip in his belly. Craig stays for a bit longer, not exhaling anymore but just keeping his lips on Kyle. He pulls back and nudges Kyle’s jaw close.
“Hold it and inhale”.
Kyle does as he was told, slowly swallowing the smoke that was just mama-birded into his mouth. He finds it’s not as bad as actually smoking it, even if he was still coughing a bit. Craig drops one hand from Kyle’s jaw, taking one last hit of the joint before flicking it out into the yard, he blows the smoke directly into Kyle’s face.
Kyle scrunches up his face and fans the smoke away, “Seriously, Craig?”
Craig laughs, “So what did you think?”
Kyle blushes again, “About you blowing smoke directly into my mouth?”
“It’s called shotgunning, Kyle”.
Kyle can’t look at Craig anymore, he’s looking down at the space between them, the wood of the porch, the ant he sees crawling near them, literally anything but the insanely hot man in front of him. Craig’s hand is still on his jaw, he feels his fingers twitch against his chin.
“Kyle, is it okay if I kiss you?” Craig’s saying it so quietly Kyle has to strain to hear him.
Kyle looks up, wide-eyed, at Craig, he’s pretty sure he’s turning purple from the lack of oxygen he’s tracking into his lungs. He’s not really capable of words right now, his tongue feels like it's too big for his mouth.
He nods his head.
Craig immediately swoops in, hand going from Kyle’s chin to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Kyle leans into the kiss too, one hand keeping him pressed against the porch, while the other is balled up in Craig’s lame ass pokemon shirt. He feels Craig snake his other arm around his waist, rubbing anywhere he can reach.
Craig tugs slightly, eliciting a noise from Kyle. He can feel the pressure from Craig’s piercing against his lip, and he grows more desperate. He grips the collar of Craig’s shirt, bringing them down.
Kyle falls onto his back, with Craig hovering over him. They stay in that position for a while, grabbing at each other while their lips clashed together harshly. Much to Kyle’s disappointment, Craig pulls back for air. He’s panting right into Kyle’s face, similar to how he was blowing smoke into it earlier. He’s got a stupid, wide smile on his face that Kyle returns.
Craig moves his hand from Kyle’s neck, reaching down his arm to interlace their fingers, “Do you wanna ditch this lame ass party?”
Kyle rolls his eyes—of course he wants to ditch this lame ass party. However, words seem to fail him right now, so he just nods enthusiastically. Craig helps Kyle up, wrapping his arm around the red heads waist as they walk off the porch into the night.