Chapter Text
The South Park High School Cows football team is known for being notoriously awful in nearly every sense of the word. It had been three games since they’d scored a single point, and at times Kyle found himself wondering if half the team even knew what a football was or what game they were even playing. That didn’t stop Kyle from joining, of course, because if there was one thing colleges cared about it was athletics, and if Kyle ever wanted to get out of this godforsaken town he needed all the options he could get. Plus, it gave him the chance to see Stan and Kenny more without the added annoyance of having the fatass breathing over his shoulder. Stan was actually the one who convinced Kyle to join the team in the first place, saying it would turn them into total chick magnets, which was ironic coming from the guy who had been dating the same girl on and off since he was in elementary.
Stan was half-right though, because joining the football team caused a weird social hierarchy to form, especially during the season. For some reason, the football players and the cheerleaders were only interested in dating each other, which made things viciously competitive when it came to the dating scene. Kyle could count the number of people on one hand who weren’t involved in that whole incestuous clique.
It was just him.
But nobody knew that, because they wanted to keep their relationship away from prying eyes, so of course that didn’t stop people from trying to pull him into it anyway. But if he had to hear one more word about who had the best butt or who could tackle the hardest or who cheated on who this week, he was going to scream.
If he knew joining the football team was going to cause this much drama, he never would’ve agreed to it in the first place. And it’s not like on the field was any better. Their head coach, Coach Murray, was pretty much the definition of someone who peaked in high school. He was so disorganized, almost hilariously so, that Kyle wondered how he ever got the job to begin with. Pair that with his hot-headed demeanor and his inability to develop players and you get a team that was more damaged than Cartman’s psyche. On his first day, Coach Murray was very quick to bark out positions at the players, according to some arbitrary criteria known only to him, which explains how Bridon Gueermo, someone who can barely throw the ball, got to be quarterback. And as much as Kyle likes Stan, a wide receiver who’s afraid to catch the ball isn’t exactly a recipe for success on any football team.
Part of the reason why Kyle joined the team was because he thought he could make a real difference. He knows he’s decent at tackling idiots on the ground cause he’s had so much firsthand experience, so of course Coach Murray had to make him a running back instead because why utilize your players effectively and play to their strengths? That doesn’t make any sense as far as the Cows are concerned!
And if these mismatches were any indication of how the rest of the season was going to go, the team was going to be in some major shit.
“I just can’t believe he made me a running back! What is he doing?” Kyle cries, throwing his arms up as he vents to his girlfriend, Dee, who is standing at her locker, gathering all her books for her homework and stuffing them into her purple backpack while she listens to him rant about his coach. Around them, their classmates are dispersing for the day. Most of them are moving so quickly you would think there’s a fire in the building. “He thinks I can’t tackle people when I’ve tackled that fat tub of lard more times than most people can count!” Kyle sighs, crosses his arms, and leans up against the neighboring locker for a moment before another grievance pops into his brain like a YouTube ad, “And get this. Now he wants to devote half of our practice time to learning the triple option, which is a snoozefest play that went out of fashion pretty much the second it was invented!”
Kyle leans his head back and lets out a frustrated sigh, worried if he continues much further, he’s going to give himself a headache. Beside him, Dee nods attentively, before reaching forward and giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Feeling this, Kyle gazes up at her, his expression softening on the spot. He is always amazed by just how quickly she is able to make people feel better, whether it be through a glance, offering an open ear to listen, or on the rare occasion, giving some sassy advice. Although most people know her for her farts, Kyle considers her compassion to be her real superpower. “Sorry, Dee,” he apologizes, the anger draining from his body, “I know I complain about this a lot these days, but it’s just really nice to have someone to talk to about it who actually cares.” Dee blinks twice and nods, her face pinkening a bit at the compliment and suddenly Kyle starts to feel a little shy around her. “So, uh, are you gonna watch practice again today?”
Like usual, Dee says nothing and nods once more.
“Okay,” Kyle replies, gripping his backpack strap a bit tighter as he readjusts it. “We can meet up after and just claim we have another history project.“ Dee does a thumbs up while Kyle scans the area. There’s a few stragglers near the opposite end of the hallway, but luckily they seem to be too preoccupied by the bulletin board to notice them. Seizing this rare opportunity, Kyle leans forward and pecks Dee on the cheek. “Bye!” Kyle says sweetly, dashing off down the hallway before Coach can chastise him for being late.
Dee watches as he leaves, a strange feeling gnawing in the pit of her stomach. It’s a feeling that has gotten a lot stronger in the last few weeks, and it’s taken her until a few days ago to realize what it is. It’s longing. Longing for the day when they will no longer have to be a secret from the whole school.
Don’t get things twisted, she has been a willing participant in it, and she never would’ve agreed to it in the first place if she didn’t understand where Kyle was coming from. After almost causing the destruction of two entire cities eight years ago, Dee had decided to deactivate all her social media accounts and go cold turkey altogether, knowing it was for the good of everyone involved. Her power to gain an ungodly amount of Facebook followers was too strong and the last thing she wanted was to have to move towns again to escape it. Unfortunately for her, not having any social media made her a bit of an outcast at school as most people forgot she even existed.
Most people except Kyle Broflovski. His heart was too big to just abandon her, which is something Dee had always admired about him. Sure, he could be headstrong at times, but his heart was always in the right place. He always tried to do the right thing even if it wasn’t the most popular. And hanging out with a social outcast like Dee was not popular.
But that wasn’t the reason why they were keeping their relationship a secret — Kyle had made that clear from the very beginning. No, the real reason why they had kept things under wraps for so long is because of two words…
Eric Cartman.
Sure, Kyle had told Dee the horror stories of him killing parents, making them into chili, and feeding them to their unsuspecting children, and she had even interacted with him herself when she was younger; but Kyle was insistent that they keep him in the dark as long as possible because Cartman had a knack for always ruining every good thing Kyle has ever had in his life. Apparently it was some kind of obsession.
Dee isn’t really afraid of him, though. After all, if he ever got near her, she could just blast him to the nearest hospital with one of her farts. But if this matters this much to Kyle, then she is willing to go along with it, even if there is a part of it that pains her on the inside.
There is also a part of her who wonders how long they are going to be able to keep this up. There had been a few close calls already, and she is positive there will be more now that Kyle is on the football team. Their excuses for spending so much time together are getting flimsier and flimsier, and there are only so many times she can sneak into his bedroom at night without someone catching them.
His friend, Kenny McCormick, is also another problem. First introduced as Princess Kenny to her many years ago, it had taken Dee about five seconds to realize that that kid was too observant for his own good. He isn’t the kind of person that you can slip up in front of and expect to be able to get away with it, and they have been getting sloppy lately.
Sighing, Dee tries to push these thoughts down as far as they can go before she heads to the football field. It’s a routine that’s coming more naturally to her with each passing day. She just spreads a blanket on the hilltop that has a perfect view of the football field, sets her books up, and pretends that she’s really invested in doing her homework. In actuality, she usually only gets about halfway through an assignment before she notices herself gazing at Kyle more than her work. But that’s okay, she usually ends up finishing it with him later anyway.
Not like her parents really give a shit about her grades or what she’s doing at all. She swears they don’t remember she even exists half the time cause they’re too busy either arguing or locking themselves in their bedroom. Dee shivers, cringing at the thought, as she takes a seat next to her backpack. She reaches in and pulls out her English textbook and opens it to Chapter 9 just as the football players start coming out of the locker room. Basking in the cold autumn air and equally enjoyable solitude, Dee leans back, her textbook placed in the center of her crossed lap as she looks for Kyle’s jersey number. She smiles discreetly as #4 walks out and takes his place between who she assumes are Stan and Kenny. Nearby, the cheerleaders have just started their practice. Head cheerleader, Heidi Turner, is already screeching at her teammates and at this moment, Dee thanks the guy who invented earplugs, as she pulls a pair out of her backpack.
She had never really taken an interest in cheerleading, not that Heidi would ever have asked her to join in the first place. Dee’s appearance doesn’t exactly scream girly. Most days she wears a gray sweater that covers more than half her body. It’s so ambiguous that most people mistake her for a dude on a daily basis. Combine that with her social status and allergy to gossip or talk more than five seconds to people not worth her time and you’ve got a pretty crappy stereotypical South Park cheerleader. But they weren’t all bad; some of them were decent human beings. Annie had always been nice to Dee ever since she beat up those bullies for stealing her Justin Bieber doll, and Wendy had always been really respectful to her when they spoke. She was actually the first person to realize Dee was a girl back in the days where she was only saying one-word sentences.
The truth is even before the whole social media debacle, Dee had always been more of a loner. Not that she didn’t like people, she just had a hard time trusting them. Maybe it was because she didn’t have a lot of healthy relationships to turn to. Her parents were a mess and moving around a lot made it almost impossible to keep friends. That’s why she was secretly relieved when they stayed in South Park for good. As weird as the town was, at least it actually gave her a chance to find something more stable. And there’s no question that Kyle is the most levelheaded person in this town. Dee knows that if it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have much of a social life, so she tries not to take up too much of his time. But there is something just so refreshing about hanging out with someone who sees things the same way she does. They had bonded over the absurdity of it all, Dee having first caught Kyle’s romantic attention, she thinks, when he read her column asking why there were so many gerbils in the computer lab and why was there one scurrying over her hands as she typed. They kept exchanging stories via the school paper and in three weeks, she had quickly realized that any plans of them being just friends had been swiftly crumpled up and thrown into the incinerator, never to be seen again.
It took a little while longer for Kyle to admit it, too caught up in his own feelings to notice she was practically flashing him signals from outer space that she was interested. Until one day she had decided to take matters into her own hands and just told him to his face that she liked him and can they please do something about this because this was getting ridiculous.
Cause best friends don’t make out and play wrestle and fall asleep cuddling in each other’s arms. At least, not any best friends Dee knows.
Dee smiles as she scribbles her name at the top of her vocabulary worksheet, not even bothering to look at question one before she takes another peek at her boyfriend. He is gathered with a bunch of the other players in front of their coach, who looks like he’s in the middle of one of his signature rants that Kyle has told her so much about.
“...and that is all 87 of the mistakes that you dunderheads made last game!” Coach Murray screams, latching onto his clipboard like a stereotypical 90s high school football coach, most of his players having tuned him out somewhere between mistake eleven and mistake thirteen.
Kyle nudges a dozing Stan in the shoulder, who quickly jolts awake, yawning loudly as Coach Murray flips to the next page on his clipboard and continues on his rant, pacing in front of the team like some kind of drill sergeant.
“But I gotta hand it to you fellas, we were doing well for the first 19 seconds until Marsh decided to dive away from the ball!” Coach Murray shouts, lingering in front of the raven for a moment and flashing him a glare from the corner of his eye.
“There was a bee on it,” Stan mutters, his voice so small it almost sounds like buzzing.
And apparently that was the wrong thing to say to a raving lunatic cause Coach Murray stops completely and hones in on Stan. “There was a bee on it? There was a bee on it?!” Coach Murray repeats, sounding more unhinged with each passing second, “Is that really what you just said to me, boy?!”
“Aye-aye, Mr. Krabs!” Kenny sasses, giving a fake salute and flashing one of his signature McCormick shit-eating grins. His jersey is, appropriately, numbered 69.
“Don’t you start, McCormick!” the coach grunts. “I haven’t even started airing all your grievances yet.”
But Kenny doesn’t even flinch at the threat. He just opens his arms up like he’s about to give the world a giant hug. “Lay it on me!”
Recognizing a lost cause when he sees one, Coach Murray grumbles, scratching a few things down on his clipboard before going on to complain about how terrible the kicking was.
Kenny sighs, shaking his head at Coach Murray’s newest victim. “Don’t ask me how Jimmy got to be the kicker…” he laments.
“He missed the first practice so Coach just made him that by default,” Stan answers, stretching his arms behind his back, his shoulders giving a brittle crack at the sudden movement.
Cringing, Kenny shakes his head. “Yeesh… and I thought making Gueermo the quarterback was a bold decision… What do you think, Ky? — Ky?” he repeats. It takes about five seconds after Kenny turns around for him to realize that his redheaded friend is not paying attention. Drawing an imaginary line from Kyle’s eyes to the hilltop, Kenny smirks when he sees what, or more like who, exactly he is staring at. “Whatcha lookin’ at, Kyle?” Kenny practically sings, wiggling his eyebrows as he nudges him playfully in the shoulder.
Before Kyle can answer, Stan throws his two cents in. “Yeah, dude, why do you keep looking over there? This is the third time I’ve caught you doing it today.”
The sudden attention immediately causes Kyle to scramble, almost tripping over his own two feet in the process. “Oh, I just thought I saw something,” he lies, bashfully turning away from his friends and hiding behind his hand before they notice how much his face is heating up.
Luckily for Kyle, Stan has the attention span of an average housecat. He just gives him a bizarre look and shrugs, before staring at a weird-shaped pebble by his feet. Unluckily for Kyle, Kenny is not deterred as easily. But instead of pushing further, he just flashes a knowing smirk and moves on, putting this in The First Bank of McCormick for later.
Meanwhile, Dee is halfway through question 3 on her vocabulary worksheet when a stray, poorly thrown football lands by her feet, the thud from its hurl into the grass startling Dee so much her eyes widen and she drops her pencil. She looks up, only getting about two seconds of peace before Coach Murray’s voice breaks through the sound barrier, scaring a few warblers, who fly away in search of more peaceful pastures.
“Goddammit, Gueermo!” Coach Murray blares, yelling at his quarterback for what will no doubt be the first of many, many times today. “Who the hell were you throwing to? The lawn?” He gestures out at the cardboard target, which Bridon had missed by a good 90 degrees, but all the quarterback can do is shrug at his mistake. Wanting to spare himself from another pansy-ass excuse from who is supposed to be his star player, Coach Murray stomps across the field, stopping at the gate that separates the track from the hilltop that Dee is sitting on. Dee is just about to resume her homework when she hears a less angry version of the coach’s voice speak up to her. “Hey, kid! A little help?”
Sighing, Dee doesn’t even have to look where Coach Murray is pointing to know what he wants. Wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, Dee sets down her worksheet and unplugs her earplugs — which, in retrospect, didn’t do much to block out the epitome of a human foghorn. She leans down, picks up the football with mild curiosity, and throws her arm backwards and then forwards in one smooth motion, chucking it across the lawn. It does a perfect spiral and lands square in the center of Coach Murray’s chest, who catches it with a grunty, middle-aged-dad-sounding “Oof!” Dee immediately sits back down, not even bothering to check to see if the coach even caught it, and casually picks up her homework again.
“Damn…there was some real juice on that ball.” Coach Murray drawls, some of his players still wincing from the noise the football made when it hit his chest, bracing themselves for what’s sure to be the tongue-lashing of the season for whoever the hell that was who just made him into an embarrassment in three seconds flat.
But Coach Murray has other plans.
“Hey, kid!” he cries, grabbing onto the top of the metal fence, looking like he just saw all his coach dreams come to life in a sports-training montage.
It takes a few more calls from the coach until Dee finally realizes that he’s talking to her. She slowly sets down her homework, looks around all confused, then points at herself with a small nod as if to ask ‘Are you seriously talking to me right now?’
“Yeah, you,” Coach replies, like he just hacked into her mind. “You go to school here?”
Dee shifts her eyes briefly to the right, for some reason feeling very uneasy about that question, before she looks back at him and nods.
And even though Dee considers herself to be pretty decent at reading people, especially with context clues, what he says next is the last thing she expects.
“You wanna join the football team, son?” Coach Murray asks. Behind him, the players are watching this spectacle intently, many of them just as confused as the kid on the lawn.
Taking a step towards his coach, Kyle lifts his finger up in point. “Uh… actually, Dee’s a-”
Coach Murray whips his head around, almost giving himself a serious case of whiplash in the process. He narrows his eyes at the redhead. “The New Kid can speak for himself, you don’t need to speak for him!” he barks, his demeanor changing like a kaleidoscope as he turns back to a puzzled Dee on the hilltop. “So, what do you say, kid? You wanna join the football team?”
Dee stands there blankly for a moment, seemingly frozen by the fairly simple question that had just been asked to her, before turning to the only person whose opinion she actually cares about. They lock eyes and Kyle gives her a shrug. Dee looks back at Coach Murray, mirroring his response as she gives a shrug of her own.
“That’s good enough for me. You’re in!” the coach beams, sounding the most excited he’s been in weeks. He grabs a helmet from the equipment manager and tosses it at Dee. It lands mere inches away from her stomach, but she manages to catch it with both hands before it causes damage to any of her vital organs. She snaps her head up and meets Kyle’s gaze, both of them looking shaken by the action.
Fifteen minutes later, Dee is standing on the 50 yard line, football in hand, wearing the helmet that almost caused her physical injury and a jersey that looks like it’s swallowing her whole since they didn’t have time to fit her for padding yet. Most of the team is standing on the sidelines watching as she runs a few simple plays as quarterback. Coach Murray is standing a few feet away with his classic clipboard, writing things down after every one. “Alright, son. You did well on the first two, but now it’s time for a real challenge,” he states, dramatically pointing his pencil at the endzone.
Dee looks up where, sure enough, the team’s worst wide receiver, Stan Marsh, is standing all the way at the bottom right pylon, looking like a kid who just lost his parents at an amusement park.
“I’ll set the scene for ya,” the coach begins. He holds his clipboard in one hand and throws the other one up sensationally before launching into a speech that he’s no doubt practiced fifteen minutes on the toilet, a shine glimmering in his eyes. “It’s fourth down and about a million to go, there’s 3 seconds left, and we’re down 5 points. It’s homecoming and every football recruiter within 500 miles of this place is here to see whether you’re worthy enough to get a scholarship to their prestigious universities. There’s only one thing that stands in your way from a life full of fame or a life filled with misery, and that’s whether or not you can get that dweeb to catch the ball!”
“Hey!” Stan cries, clearly insulted.
Nearby, Kyle stands nervously on the sidelines, clenching and unclenching his fist like he’s squeezing an imaginary stress ball, feeling like his heart is going to leap out of his throat at any moment. Kenny stands beside him, matching Kyle’s eyeline to Dee and giving a coy smirk. He is just about to make a comment when the football flies out of Dee’s hands and into the air, heading straight towards Stan, almost like it’s been programmed to by some kind of superhuman robot.
Stan throws his hands up, panicked, the bee incident playing on repeat in his mind. But not even Stan’s incompetence can stop the football from landing precisely in the center of his palms. Juggling it for a second, no one is more surprised than Stan himself when he manages to catch it and hold it up in the endzone. “Holy shit! I scored!” he exclaims, the action causing a myriad of responses: Kyle looks relieved, Kenny looks impressed, Bridon looks pissed, and Coach Murray nods like he totally predicted this all along.
“Do you believe in miracles? Cause I’m a Satanist!” Coach Murray proclaims, holding his hands out straight like he’s a referee.
Playfully nudging Kyle in the side with his elbow, Kenny whispers to Kyle through his macaroni breath, “I knew it!”
Walking over to her, Coach Murray places a hearty hand on Dee’s shoulder, gazing down at her like she’s the capable son he never had — if only his real son wasn’t such a huge fucking disappointment. “Congratulations, New Kid, you’re the new starting quarterback!”
Unsurprisingly, it takes about five seconds for the former starting quarterback to protest, his pride immediately shot by this news. “What?!” Bridon outbursts while a few of his teammates have the audacity to golf clap at this roster change next to him. “But Coach, I’ve started three games now!”
“And you stunk in every single one,” Coach Murray replies, not skipping a beat as he changes the starting lineup on his clipboard. “Get with the times, Gueermo. We might actually have a chance now. The team needs a strong, competent leader who can actually throw the ball, and the New Kid is the only one here who fits that bill!” And as harsh as those words are, a few of the players are nodding behind him in agreement. “Now take five, everyone, I have to pick up my kid from soccer practice,” he casually states, tossing his clipboard hastily at the equipment manager, grabbing his car keys from the bench, and hopping the fence like he’s done this a million times before.
Stan moseys over to where Dee is standing and hands her the ball before joining Kenny on the sideline. Dee’s mind is reeling so quickly that she barely registers taking it. She squeezes it between her fingertips and turns to Kyle, who is flashing her a look of admiration, his green eyes twinkling in the sun. She is just about to walk over to him when Bridon pops into her path like an angry mole, the intensity of his glare causing a chill to run down Dee’s spine.
“Don’t think this is over, New Kid. There’s only room for one quarterback on this team, and it’s gonna be me!” he huffs, snapping his fingers in her face twice before swerving on his heel like a ballerina, Dee raising her eyebrow at the theatrics.
“Jesus Christ, no wonder why they call him the Troy Bolton of South Park,” Kyle mutters, coming up behind Dee to watch the spectacle and holding his discarded helmet by the facemask. “Don’t listen to him, Dee, you earned it,” he states warmly, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder, quickly taking his hand away before anyone can read into it.
Dee nods, a small appreciative smile forming on her face, “Thank you, Kyle.”