Chapter Text
stnly: barn’s on fire
Kyle stared at his phone helplessly. It was their first time hanging out in weeks—all four of them. High school had brought a distance between them, which honestly felt like the natural ebb and flow of time. Kyle had been launched into every AP class and study group his parents wanted the first year. Kenny was balancing three jobs. Stan had decided that he wanted to get out of South Park in any way possible, so he’d started actually applying himself at school and working any odd job that might mean a chance of making the right connections. Cartman’s assholery hadn’t lessened over the years, but their tolerance collectively had.
Tonight was supposed to be a way to come back to the good ol’ days.
kyleyb: wtf
kenwick: fr? dont die save the weed
cartman: lol
stnly: i’m fine, thanks for asking
stnly: dad’s trying to put it out. it’s pretty bad, so i have to skip :/
kenwick: ill take the bad shit
kyleyb: dude. that sucks so hard
cartman: ud no all ab sukking right jew?
kenwick: cant speak for kyle….
kyleyb: 🖕
stnly: CRAIG
cartman: r u offering fag
kenwick: CRAIG
stnly: also, cartman, lay off. one fucking night man.
kenwick: oh shiiii thats right no moderator tn
stnly: kenny i will give you a full bag of whatever you want if you’re on cartman duty
kenwick: three bags & ur nice bong & we got a deal
stnly: fucking fine
Kyle took a deep breath and let it out. Kenny wasn’t as good with handling Cartman as Stan—or hell, even Butters—was, but he’d at least try. Well, unless he’d toked something with sativa; then, he’d be a giggly mess that would actively encourage Cartman. Lately, though, it seemed like Kenny was dry. Or, well, drier. City Wok was drug testing now, and with Kevin gone and his dad usually drunk or high, he needed money more than ever.
And Kyle really needed a night of screaming over video games and watching stupid movies and eating junk food.
Even if Kenny showed up high off his ass, Kyle might be able to actually laugh with him this time.
Cartman was already bitching in the chat, but Kyle dropped his own message.
cartman: fkin pussees cant take a joke
kyleyb: ty stan. And thx kenny.
cartman: gay ass
cartman: also new surround. bring ur loud shit
kenwick: sick got so much shit
cartman: no hick shit
kenwick: sum 41, msi, mdd?
cartman: gay
cartman: fkin emo
Kyle sighed a little before he started getting ready. It was fine. He and Kenny could fuck shit up, Kenny would probably wind up doing a lap dance to Move Your Body after kicking their asses in Mario Kart, Cartman would kick his ass in Halo, and Kyle would destroy them both in COD, and they’d all figure it out.
He got to Cartman’s ten minutes late.
There was a sign on the door telling him to let himself in, and Kyle reluctantly obliged. Hooch blasted from the basement. Cartman’s mom clearly wasn’t home. Kyle made his way down the stairs; Kenny was on the coffee table, enjoying an air guitar solo. Cartman just frowned at him.
“New system sounds good,” Kyle said. Kenny shot finger guns and a wink his way, while Cartman just rolled his eyes.
“No shit,” he said. “It would be better if poor boy here didn’t keep fucking skipping around on the CD.”
“Moocher’s rights,” Kenny said as he hopped off the coffee table. “You want something to drink?”
“This is my house, fuckwad.”
“I'm asking Kyle, fatboy. Drink?”
Kyle asked for any soda, and Kenny came back with Coke, Mountain Dew, and a beer. Cartman glared at Kenny. “That’s Phil’s shit. Get a White Claw.”
“Ew,” Kenny said as he set down the sodas and pointedly popped the cap of the beer with his keys. “White Claw’s for bitch babies.”
Kyle snagged the Coke. In moments, a controller was shoved into his hands. Predictably, Kenny forced them into a round of Rainbow Road and whooped their asses. Cartman, predictably, kicked up a shitfit and they were forced into playing Coconut Mall.
Kenny did his celebratory lap dance to Straight to Video , while Cartman leaned as far back into the couch as he could manage .
Regardless of the map, Kenny was king. Cartman had a hard time understanding this.
Kyle kicked his legs up onto the table as they settled into a round of Halo.
And, like always, Cartman won. Sure, he had to sacrifice half the team and bring a twelve year old to tears, but he was the champion.
Kenny cracked open a second beer, Kyle accepted a shot of vodka, and Cartman chugged half a liter of Mountain Dew. Snacks were scavenged and consumed, Kenny gave them a show with Porn Star Dancing , Kyle forced them into playing Island in the Sun, Cartman threw a fit and got them to listen to Cheap Trick (specifically Auf Wiedersehen and On Top of The World ).
Stan would have jumped in with Creedence Clearwater Revival or Fountains of Wayne.
It was weird to not have him here—the friend group feeling a little lopsided—but Kyle was genuinely having fun. Cartman was actually managing not to be a massive asshole for pretty long stretches of time.
Kenny’s phone chimed and their bubble of bliss popped.
“Shit, I gotta—uh, it’s a work shift. Gotta take it,” Kenny said, chugging the last of his beer.
“At 11:30 at night?” Cartman scoffed. “What, China Man on China time?”
“What? No—” Kenny groaned as his phone chimed again.
“Dude, that’s, like, hella illegal. Is anything even open? What do they even need you for?” Kyle chimed in.
“Look, it’s—fuck!” His phone chimed again. “Okay, Butter’s parents are actually the fuck out of town. I gotta take this, man. It’s been weeks . Fuckin—fuckin’ weeks . I’m trying to lock that down, right? And if Leo says jump, I gotta say jump on my dick, yeah?”
“You’re so whipped for a slut, McWhoremick,” Cartman drawled.
“Damn straight,” Kenny said without even batting an eye. “Look, I need this. Don’t kill each other, or Stan’s going to kill me. Let me—let me have this, okay? For Butters.”
“Got it, man. Get that dick.” Kyle saluted lazily. He and Cartman could manage—right? And if he decided to be an unredeemable dickbag, Kyle could leave.
“Since Jew-boy agreed… fine .”
“Okay. Holy shit, I love you guys. Like, you have no idea.” He made a heart with his hands before scampering up the stairs.
Kyle took a deep breath before turning to look at Cartman. “COD?” he offered.
“Hell no. I got Banjo and Kazooie.”
Kyle made a face. It was barely multiplayer; he was always Kazooie and that wasn’t really much better than being an NPC. “What else?”
They settled on a movie instead. Kyle didn’t know what it was about, and he didn’t care. It was animated, it had Danny Devito, and Kyle was pretty certain Cartman couldn’t make it offensive. Orange Danny DeVito was clearly a moral of some kind. Plus, the corporate oppression was pretty obvious.
Kyle was content in this knowledge until Cartman pointed at the villain and said, “Give him red hair, and he’s just like you. A greedy, conniving Jew.”
“He’s literally trying to tax people for breathing.”
“Exactly. You’re so frugal. You’d hate for anyone to do anything for free.”
“Fuck off, Cartman.”
“No, really. It starts with the trees and the clothes and the houses. And then it’s the air. And then it’s our souls.”
Kyle pointedly tried to ignore him.
“Yeah, you gingers. Bet you’d suck a dick for a soul, right? Or would you do it for free? I know you’re a fag, Kahl . A faggy little soulless ginger jew.”
“Dude, I swear to God—”
“What God, Kahl ? Not my god, right? But not your god, either?”
“Cartman—”
“I speak for the trees, Kyle, and they say little fags aren’t welcome.”
“Fuck you!” Kyle shouted, and Cartman’s smirk just widened.
“Oh, yeah, I bet a little jew fairy like you would like that, huh?” Cartman sneered. “You putting your fat, kosher meat right in my poor, unsuspecting—”
Kyle could only manage a scream of pure and utter frustration and rage as he stared at him.
“But I bet you’re too much of a fag to follow through,” Cartman continued. “Can’t handle a real man. Too much of a faggot to do what it takes—”
He couldn’t take this anymore—Cartman’s backward logic, his stupid slurs, his dumbass face. Maybe that was what drove him to do it. Maybe he was trying to shock him. Maybe he was just trying to cover his mouth so he’d shut up.
But Kyle moved before he could think, and his lips were crushed up against Cartman’s. His hand was tangled in the front of Cartman’s shirt, pulling him close.
Cartman was a stone wall against him. Kyle couldn’t even feel him breathe.
Regret dumped over him like ice and he started to pull away. God, Cartman was never going to let him live this down. His life was over. He’d ruined everything. Time to pack up and move back to Jersey, or to the Antarctic, or the moon.
But, warm air puffed on his upper lip, a hand held his waist, and Cartman’s lips were moving against his. It was surprisingly gentle, an easy push-pull as they found their rhythm. Cartman’s lips were perfectly soft, a little bit plump. He tasted like Cheesy-Poof dust and chapstick. Cartman pressed deeper, squeezing Kyle’s waist, and Kyle’s mouth parted in surprise. A tongue touched his bottom lip, and Kyle opened his mouth a little more. It should have been disgusting, having Cartman’s tongue in his mouth. The Cheesy-Poof flavor was stronger, and there was the chemical undertones of Mountain Dew.
Instead, his restraint headed straight for the Rockies.
He hooked his arms around Cartman’s neck and shifted so he was fully in Cartman’s lap. He could feel Cartman’s gasp of surprise—which just made Kyle run his tongue along the roof of Cartman’s mouth. He was rewarded with a moan and a shudder. Cartman pulled him closer, hand now on Kyle’s hips. God, Cartman was already half hard; Kyle ground down onto him, and swallowed the noises Cartman made. Cartman rocked up, Kyle rocked down, and they kept kissing. It felt like they were one entity—seeking out pleasure in perfect sync.
Cartman was the first one to pull away, breathing hard as he rested his forehead on Kyle’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Kyle said, realizing he was just as out of breath. His lips tingled. His body was on fire. His dick nearly hurt from how hard he was.
“You—shit—” Cartman cut himself off; he raised his head back up and began kissing down Kyle’s neck. “You feel so good,” he said as nipped Kyle’s skin. “God, you—it’s illegal.”
He really didn’t know how much longer he could last. This was so stupid—it was Cartman . Asshole extraordinaire. Antisemite Extreme.
But he bit right where shoulder met neck, and Kyle was officially out of fucks to give. He shoved Cartman down, captured his lips again, and pressed against him hard. Cartman whined pathetically as he bucked up against him. Kyle pulled away just long enough to suck a few hickies along Cartman’s neck, using the new angle as an excuse to grind against him.
“Shit—Kyle—I’m—” Cartman gasped.
“Me too.”
And then they were kissing again, Cartman grabbing Kyle’s hips as he rocked up against him. Cartman was the first to come, yanking Kyle down hard, moaning sloppily in his mouth as his whole body shuddered. Kyle desperately humped against his thigh, and followed him just a few minutes later.
Cartman’s eyes were glazed, mouth hung half open.
Kyle could only imagine he wasn’t faring much better.
God, if this was how all their fights ended…Kyle could get used to it.
Oh, right. Their fights. He could feel his afterglow wither up and die, and he was now overly aware of the sticky mess cooling in his boxers. He slammed his hands on Cartman’s chest. “Fucking asshole!”
“Ow! What the fuck?”
“You’re a faggot, too!”
Cartman just stared at him. His entire face went bright red. “Yeah, well—uh, no shit!”
“What the fuck, dude?” Kyle slid off Cartman, who attempted to sit up. “Why’re you saying all that shit?”
Cartman choked as his eyes went wide.
“Why’d you let this even happen?” Kyle pressed.
“I like you, you asshole!”
“Then what's with the insults, fat ass??”.
Cartman turned even brighter red, eyes going wider as the blush crept down his neck. He mumbled something as he turned away.
“What.”
“You’re–god—you’re hot when you're mad, okay? And it's the only time you really look at me, or whatever.”
“I look at you.”
“Not really. I mean, like you see me when I say that shit. You're the only one who, like, accepts I'm an asshole or whatever.” Cartman’s ears were bright pink, and it was stupidly cute. “God, this is so gay.”
“You're ridiculous,” Kyle said, grabbing his wrists as he flinched away. He used Cartman's wrists to pull him into a kiss. “You could, I don't know, try being nice?”.
“Gay.”
“Just, lay off the Jew shit, okay?” Kyle said. “And don't rag on my family. Everything else I can take.”
Cartman stared at him. “Even the ginger shit?”
Kyle couldn’t help it—he laughed. “Dude, I’ve tuned that shit out since middle school. I only pretended to care because it kept you from saying the stuff that actually pissed me off.”
“Fucked up, dude.”
“Yeah,” Kyle said, grinning at him. “We are.”
Cartman pulled him in for another kiss, hands wandering back to his hips, and their bodies growing closer. If it didn’t feel like he had lukewarm pizza cheese in his pants, Kyle probably would have been more into it. He forced himself to pull away, taking in Cartman’s flushed face.
“My boxers are so gross right now.”
“So take them off,” Cartman said, grinning lecherously. Kyle just kissed him—chaste, simple, easy.
“I should go home and change.”
Cartman’s grip tightened.
“We can talk more tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” Cartman murmured.
Kyle untangled himself from Cartman and made his way home. He promptly tossed his soiled boxers in the hamper, took the quickest shower of his life, and collapsed into bed—just in time for his existential crisis to set in.