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Kyle hates the cold.
This is a known fact among the friend group. He's always the first to complain when the air starts to turn frigid and he can see his breath in it. And yet, he always manages to be the most underdressed for the weather. Sure, when he was younger his mother was always bundling him up in multiple layers, fussing about his safety and whatnot. But now that he's mostly responsible for his own wardrobe choices, he always seems to show up without a coat. Most of the time Stan, who doesn't mind the cold all that much, just gives Kyle his coat. Kyle always makes a fuss, saying he doesn't need it or that Stan doesn't need to act like his mom.
Tolkien and Wendy tease them for sharing clothes all the time. Wendy asks Kyle if he needs an extra coat for home, although she knows he doesn't, she's seen his closet. It houses plenty of coats. Kenny swears Kyle forgets a coat on purpose because he knows Stan will give him his. If that just so happens to be true, Kyle would never admit to it.
Kyle would never admit to a lot of things. He's stubborn that way.
What he can admit to right now, however, is how ridiculous Stan Marsh can be.
"I can't believe you forgot to get fucking gas, Stanley." His full name is reserved for when Stan has really fucked up.
Stan lays his forehead on the top of the steering wheel and sighs loudly. "I know."
Kyle had asked Stan to go on a late-night drive. A usual occurrence, since Kyle still doesn't have his license and enjoys the alone time. Well, alone time with Stan, but he's basically Kyle's other half anyway so it still counts in his book.
Stan's car is pulled over on the side of a road, in the middle of nowhere. They're miles out of town at this point.
Stan turns his head towards Kyle. "You think Kenny is awake?" He knows Tolkien won't be up this late, and the girls probably won't be either. They're always in bed at a reasonable hour. Everyone expects Kyle to be, too; But he more often than not has restless nights, doing homework or is just unable to sleep.
"Maybe." Kyle has his arms crossed, and he's still staring out the window. His emotions are easy to read, even to strangers. He's always been bad at hiding how he's feeling, even when he tries. He isn't trying right now, though. Stan can tell that he's angry.
Stan huffs, and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. "I guess we'll find out. I'll be back." He gets out of the car, and then the door shuts, and Kyle is left alone with his thoughts. And the cold. He forgot to bring a jacket again.
He isn't actually mad. He wants to be mad at Stan for being so careless. If it were anyone else getting him stranded in the middle of nowhere, he would absolutely be pissed at them. But Stan is different. He knows Stan isn't actually careless, and he knows Stan will blame himself anyway, he always does, so there's no point rubbing it in. He looks out the window, seeing Stan's animated responses to the conversation on the phone. He doesn't look happy, so Kyle already figures Kenny is saying no. Stan hangs up the phone and Kyle looks away before he's caught staring.
He shivers as the driver's door opens again, and Stan climbs back into the car.
"Well?"
Stan doesn't make eye contact, and he fiddles with his sleeves. Both things he does when nervous, Kyle notices every time. "He's not coming. Says he's with Marj and it's," He makes air quotes with his fingers. "Really important. But he'll come get us in the morning."
"In the morning!? Stan, we can't just wait here all night." Kyle is still shivering, and trying his best not to let his teeth chatter. Stan must notice because he's starting to take his jacket off.
"I don't know what else to do. Kyle, I'm sorry, okay? It's my fault-"
"No, stop. Quit saying shit like that." Kyle sighs and takes Stan's jacket that he had been holding up for him. "It's not your fault. And I'm not mad at you." He slips the jacket on quickly and zips it all the way up.
"Well, it seems like you are. And I'm still sorry." Stan hates when people are mad at him. Although, Kyle is rarely actually mad at him.
"Not at you. I'm just mad about the situation."
"That I caused."
"Stan, seriously. It's fine. We'll figure it out." Kyle is still shivering, despite his best efforts at keeping warm inside the jacket. "Do you have any blankets in here?"
"Uhh..." Stan looks to the back seat, surveying the items. He spots something. "Yeah! Kenny sleeps back here sometimes." He grabs the blanket and hands it to Kyle. It's fleece, which Kyle has learned over time is Stan's favorite texture. It has pastel-colored paw prints on it, and it looks like it belongs to a toddler, but it's warm so Kyle doesn't bother commenting on it. He wraps himself in it, turning himself into a cacoon.
He looks over to Stan. "You're not cold?"
Stan shrugs. "Not really. It's not that bad." He fidgets with his sleeve again, tugging at the end of it. "I can put the backseat down if you wanted to sleep back there. I might have a pillow too."
"What about you?" Kyle furrows his eyebrows.
"Well obviously I'd sleep there too. We sleep together all the time." Stan shrugs.
Kyle let out a laugh. "Don't say it like that. We sleep in the same bed."
"What's the difference?"
"If you go around telling people we 'sleep together' they'll think we're like, gay. Together."
"Hate to break it to you, but 'sleeping in the same bed' is still super gay, dude." They both laugh, their movements shaking the car a bit, and Kyle suddenly remembers he's stuck in a car. He sighs.
"This sucks. I guess we should sleep."
"'Kay." Stan nods, and crawls into the backseat, struggling quite a bit on the way there and almost kicking Kyle twice. While Stan is working on pushing the seats down, Kyle realizes he's sweating, despite still feeling cold. He looks down at his hands, and they're shaking. Shit.
"Stan?"
"Yeah?" Stan stops what he's doing when he hears Kyle's voice, noticing the way it tremors.
Kyle is still staring down at his now slightly blurred hands. He's struggling to breathe, and he's trying to stay calm but instead ends up choking on his desperate attempts to get air into his lungs. He doesn't have any snacks with him, or candy, or drinks. His blood sugar doesn't drop this low often enough for him to carry that stuff around with him. He feels like he might pass out, until he vaguely sees a yellow container in front of him. He can hear Stan talking, but can't make out what he's saying. The container is getting closer, but he can't move, and- Oh, he's drinking something. Apple juice, he realizes. He quickly sips on it until he needs to stop for air. He has a bit of an easier time, his breaths still shaking and heavy, but he's breathing. He goes back to drinking, and now he notices that there's a hand on his shoulder.
He finishes the drink and pulls back to breathe again. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, focusing his attention on the hand resting on his shoulder. It's gripping him tightly, but not enough to hurt. The thumb is rubbing gentle, comforting circles into his shoulder, the pacing is slow and even. He counts the circles as they're being made. One, two, three, four. He takes a deep breath, and lets it out. Five, six, seven, eight. Another deep breath, in and out. Nine, ten.
He opens his eyes and looks over at Stan, who is staring, and clearly very distressed.
"Shit dude. Are you okay?"
Kyle nods, and then regrets it, because he still feels lightheaded. "I'm fine. Thanks for the juice," He gestures to the juice box that Stan is still holding, a little too tight. "Why do you have that anyway?"
Stan seems to snap out of his concerned daze, and tosses the empty, slightly crushed juice box onto the ground. Kyle will scold him for that later. "I, uh. Keep extra in here for you. For when that happens." He laughs nervously. Kyle ignores the way his heart flips at the thought of Stan remembering to keep sugary drinks around for him. He's only seen this happen a few times, mostly when they were younger.
"Well, thanks. I appreciate it." Stan nods at him and then retracts his hand, and Kyle immediately misses the contact.
Stan quickly finishes setting up their makeshift bed, which is just a big blanket on top of the seats and a single pillow, because that's all he had. Kyle climbs into the back, only a little more gracefully than Stan had. He lifts a corner of the blanket and scoots under it, seeking the warmth that resides underneath. He props himself up on his elbows and looks over to Stan, who hasn't moved to lie down yet. Kyle knows why.
"We can just share the pillow, dude. It's big enough." Stan nods, and chews on his lip before finally moving. He's being unusually quiet, Kyle thinks, like he's afraid of saying anything. Maybe the pillow wasn't what he was worried about. Kyle furrows his brows. "What's wrong?"
Stan lays down on his half of the pillow. "Nothing."
"You're a terrible liar, you know. I can tell something is wrong." Kyle moves to lie down completely, still facing Stan. Their faces are only a few inches apart. "You can tell me."
Stan stares at Kyle's hair, which he does a lot instead of making eye contact. He says it's easier, makes him less nervous. Kyle doesn't fully understand it, he's never minded eye contact himself, but there are a lot of things about Stan he'll never fully understand. He doesn't need to. He's one of the few people that doesn't feel the need to understand everything Stan does differently.
Stan sighs. "That was terrifying."
"What was?"
Stan gestures toward Kyle. "Y'know. That."
Kyle huffs a laugh. "I'm okay, Stan. It happens." Stan doesn't laugh, and he furrows his eyebrows in frustration. Kyle reaches for Stan's hand under the blanket, and intertwines their fingers together. "Hey, really, I'm fine. You did everything right. Handled it better than my mom does sometimes."
Stan does smile at that, and squeezes Kyle's hand. "It really freaked me out. I thought you were literally dying."
"Well, I'm literally alive, thanks to you." Kyle squeezes Stan's hand back. "My hero." He puts on a dramatic voice for that, and they both chuckle.
"Your hand is freezing, by the way."
"I'm aware." Kyle sighs. "I fucking hate the cold."
"I'm aware." Stan mocks him, and Kyle has to resist the urge to punch him in the arm.
"Not funny. Now you have to warm me up." Kyle is mostly joking, but they have snuggled before, and he figures now is as good a time as ever to indirectly ask for it.
"'Kay." Stan immediately complies, because of course he does. He lets go of his hand and then throws his arm over the redhead's waist, pulling him closer. Kyle ducks his head into Stan's chest and wraps an arm around him. He slips a leg between Stan's, and then sighs contently into his chest. He's never felt so cozy and secure, even while stranded in the middle of nowhere Stan makes him feel like he's safe at home.
They're both silent for a while. Kyle almost falls asleep, the warmth already sinking him into the depths of exhaustion. Stan pulls him back out briefly.
"Kyle?"
He hums into Stan's chest.
"You should let me play with your hair."
"No." Stan asks for this very consistently, and Kyle very consistently denies him.
"But I went through a traumatic experience. So I deserve it."
Kyle moves his head back just enough to look up at Stan, who's sporting a shit-eating grin. "You?! I'm the one who could've died!"
"Yeah, but I'm the one who almost lost my favorite person. I definitely deserve a reward." Kyle would give him every reward he could possibly ask for if it would make Stan call him his favorite person again.
"Your reward is getting to snuggle with me." They never really talk about it outwardly, so the second it leaves his mouth he regrets it. Stan doesn't seem to notice though.
"Well that's a good reward, but I think there should be more added to it. Like how really good games get DLC."
"Now it's definitely not happening, since you just compared showing me affection to fucking video games." Stan laughs at that.
"Please?" Stan puts on his best begging expression. Unfortunately for Kyle, it works.
"If I say yes will you stop talking so I can sleep?"
"Absolutely."
"Then yes." Kyle moves his head back to Stan's chest and closes his eyes. He feels Stan's hand start raking slowly through his curls, he can tell he's trying to be gentle, and he can't help but find it endearing.
"Dude, how is it so soft?"
"Because everyone's hair is soft compared to yours, greaseball. And I told you to stop talking." There's no real malice to his words and Stan knows that. He doesn't get a response, but he can tell Stan is smiling. The hand in his hair continues to slowly rake through it, and then gentle fingers are massaging his scalp, and he can feel himself being pulled back into the pool of sleep.
"Thank you, Stan." He whispers into Stan's chest. This is his way of saying I love you, because he can't actually say it. Not yet.
"Of course." He likes to think this is Stan's way of saying I love you back.
The comfort of Stan's affection lulls him to sleep, and he hopes this is far from the last time he gets to experience it. He hopes that someday he can feel this way every night; like nothing else exists in the world but him and Stan. Now he's completely submerged.
Stan leans down and kisses Kyle's head. This is his way of saying I love you, because he can't actually say it.
Not yet.