Chapter Text
Kyle held Stan’s hand all the way up the stairs and pushed the front door open since Kenny’s arms were full and Stan had his sleeve in his mouth. Stan had the mind to extract the fabric as the three entered the apartment. Tolkien tossed the last of the emptied bottles into the recycling can as Kenny kicked the door closed behind them.
“Well,” Clyde sighed, watching Kenny set the pizzas on the table. “That’s ten dollars down the drain. Literally .”
No one laughed. Kyle’s hands clenched into fists, and Stan whined, twisting his hand in Kyle’s grip. “Ky, you’re hurting me.” Butters’ eyes widened mere seconds before Kyle suddenly lunged forward and landed a solid punch directly to Clyde’s nose.
“Kyle!” Kenny shouted, more alarmed than anything else. Stan stared, face paling considerably.
“Dude!” Clyde covered his face with his hands. “What was that for?!”
“What devilish, godforsaken part of you thought that was appropriate?!” Kyle snapped.
“That was uncalled for,” Tolkien agreed, voice much softer but still annoyed.
“Kyle, calm down.” Kenny grabbed his shoulder.
Kyle bristled, his face growing a bit red in the cheeks. “I’m not gonna fucking calm down, Kenny!”
Stan flinched back at the shout, pressing himself against the wall.
“Yeah,” Kenny sighed. “I can see that.”
“I don’t care if he’s our guest, he shouldn’t have brought it in the first fucking place!”
“Guys,” Butters tried, but his call fell on deaf ears.
“You didn’t feel that way twenty minutes ago!” Clyde snapped back, voice nasally past the blood pooling in his nose. “Why the sudden change?”
“That’s none of your business!” Kyle turned, pulling back his arm to hit Clyde again.
Stan coiled in on himself, watching with wide but glazed eyes.
Kenny grabbed his elbow and yanked him back, practically hugging him to keep him restrained. “Let’s not hit him again, okay?”
“ Guys ,” Butters tried again.
“Ugh!” Kyle squirmed a bit, more out of frustration than a real need to free himself.
“I fucking dare you to hit me again, coward!” Clyde snapped.
“Don’t,” Tolkien insisted, throwing his arm out in front of Clyde before he could physically aggravate Kyle.
“ Cut it out! ” Butters finally snapped loud enough for it to slice through the argument like a hot knife through butter. “You fighting ain’t gonna solve anythin’! All it’s doing is makin’ things worse!” He pointed to the couch. “Kyle, go sit down.”
“But-”
“ I said sit!! ”
Kyle snapped his jaw shut and retreated from the kitchen, sitting on the couch with a huff and folding his arms.
“Tolkien, get Clyde a towel for his nose,” Butters instructed. “Ken, do y’all have any ice packs around?”
Kenny stepped across the kitchen and pulled out a bag of peas. “Uh… will this work?”
“Sure. Fine. Tolkien--”
“I got it,” Tolkien reassured, taking the pack from Kenny. “Focus on Stan.”
Kenny turned, and Stan ducked down, crouching on the floor and putting his hands over his ears. “Fuck.” Kenny sounded foreign and far away. Stan felt hands on him all over again, one on his back and one on his elbow, and he whined, not sure whether to pull away or lean into the touch. “Hey, it’s okay. Come on, up on your feet, Stanny.”
Stan followed the muted instructions, keeping his palms firmly over his ears as he was led out of the kitchen and away from where Butters was still talking quite loudly at Clyde and Kyle. He didn’t hear what was being said. He didn’t care.
“Is he gon’ come yell ‘t me too?” Stan asked in a small voice, cracking his eyes open in time to see Kenny’s face crack into a sad frown.
“No, no, he’s not gonna yell at you, sweetheart.” Kenny sat him on the bed carefully.
“But it’s….” Stan slowly retracted his palms from his ears. He could still kind of hear the conversation, but it was dulled past the closed door of the bedroom. “My fault that Cl… Cly… that he had ta… um…” His voice got tight. “I’m the reason he’s upset.”
“Oh, Stan,” Kenny sighed, sitting on the bed beside him. “He’s not upset. He was making a joke. A really crude joke that he shouldn’t have made.”
“Oh.” Stan laced his fingers together. “He was kidding?”
“He was kidding. And Kyle got mad at him . Kyle’s not mad at you.” Kenny rubbed his back. “No one is mad at you.”
“... ‘xcept me. I’m mad at me.”
Kenny wrapped his arm around Stan’s shoulders. “Don’t be, okay?”
Stan sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Fucked up.”
“Hey, baby, look at me.” Kenny placed his hand gently on the back of Stan’s neck and guided Stan to look at him. His eyes glistened. “Do you remember what I said in the car?”
Stan swallowed, chewing on his inner lip. “... that this is hard, ‘n I’m doing a good job?”
“Yeah,” Kenny affirmed with a nod. “You’re doing a great job. No fuck ups happened. None.”
Stan slowly leaned his head back into Kenny’s palm, and he scratched softly at Stan’s scalp. “Uh, can I, um…”
“... what’s that, sweetheart?”
“Pizza.”
“Oh.” Kenny let out a relieved breath in the form of a chuckle. “You want pizza?”
“Mhm. Cheese.”
“Okay.” Kenny got up. “Do you want some water, too?”
“Juice?”
“Yeah, buddy, we can get you some juice.” Kenny stroked Stan’s hair softly. “I’ll be right back.”
Stan stared at the door, kicking his feet idly. He moved his hand to his mouth but paused when the colored bandaids on his fingers caught his eye. He placed his hands in his lap instead, fidgeting with the sticky pieces of latex until one fell off. He whined. Butters was going to be so upset.
His attention was quickly diverted from the lost bandaid when the door opened. Kenny stepped inside with pizza on a plate and juice in Stan’s Minecraft cup. His heart lifted, his face immediately brightening. “Juice!” He reached out towards the cup.
Kenny couldn’t help but laugh and handed the cup to Stan, who immediately cradled it in his arms. “You think you can eat this on your own?”
“Um…” Stan looked down at his hands and then held out his fingers. “A bandaid fell off.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, kiddo.”
Stan huffed and clutched his drink, taking a few fortifying sips. “Don’t wanna lose ‘em.”
“... the bandaids?”
“Yes!” Stan cried, exasperated that Kenny wasn’t getting it . “Gonna fall off!”
“I see. Well, I’ll hold the greasy pizza for you then, so your bandaids won’t fall off.”
Stan nodded seriously, watching Kenny sit on the edge of the bed. Kenny carefully cradled the slice of pizza like a taco and held it out with the plate under it. Stan opened his mouth and took a small, tentative bite. The cheese had congealed a bit, and it was warm instead of horribly hot. He took another, far bigger bite.
“Take it slow, bud,” Kenny chuckled. “Don’t wanna make yourself sick.”
Stan immediately recoiled when the door opened but relaxed when he saw it was just Kyle. He still had a bit of a sour expression on his face, but it softened when he saw the two of them.
“Butters still yelling at Clyde?” Kenny asked, holding the pizza in Kyle’s direction with a sly grin.
Kyle huffed and folded his arms, refusing the bite. “Yeah. He’s got a mean temper when you get him riled up.”
“Reminds me of a certain someone.” Kenny carefully slid another bite of pizza into Stan’s mouth when he opened his lips pleadingly.
Slowly, like he was approaching two wild cats, Kyle sidled over to the bed and sat down on Stan’s other side. He reached up to comb his fingers along Stan’s back, brows furrowed. Stan looked at him, chewing slowly on his pizza.
“How are you doing?” Kyle asked, voice soft.
Stan chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “Um… better.” He tapped his fingers softly against the cup in his hands and took a sip. “Everyone was yellin’, but’m okay now. Got… got upset ‘cause I thought I messed up.”
“Messed up?”
Stan squeezed his eyes shut. Kyle’s hand stopped moving. “Bad… bad, um… thoughts. Wanted to… drink. Ken had to stop me.”
“Oh,” Kyle breathed.
“I didn’ mean to. I didn’ wa-I mean… I-I…”
“Hey, hey.” Kyle resumed his slow ministrations along his back. “It’s okay. We all have our rough days. You’re allowed to need… to need our help with that. That’s why we’re here.”
Stan sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “Felt bad.”
“I know.” Kyle wrapped his arm around Stan’s waist, pulling him into his side, Stan sank into the warmth and turned towards Kenny to accept another bite of pizza. Kyle ran his hand softly along Stan’s side. “Just… let us know next time.”
Stan looked up at him. “Talk t’you?”
Kyle smiled down at him, eyes shining. “Please.”
Stan blinked and sipped his juice for a moment before nodding. “Kay, Ky. ‘ll tell you next time.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Kyle pressed a kiss to the top of Stan’s head, and Stan grinned.