Part Five

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Kyle leans against the door frame of his bedroom, staring at the bed with crossed arms. "No. Not happening."

"What? What'd I do?" Stan whines, stuffing his face in the pillow.

"You're not sleeping in my bed."

"Why not? I always do."

"Not tonight." Kyle says, and his tone indicates that there's no room for argument.

"You're mean." Stan complains, showing no signs of moving.

"I will drag you out of bed and lock my door." Kyle threatens.

"Whyyy?"

"Because I'm mad at you."

"But Kyyyle, I'm too warm to move.."

"Jesus fucking Christ, I hate your childish drunken state." Kyle brings his hand up to pinch his nose bridge in frustration. "You're not even that drunk. Unless you lied. ... did you lie to me, Stan?"

"No... no, I didn't lie," Stan laughs, as if that would be ridiculous.

"Now I'm starting to doubt that even more."

And then Stan has the audacity to pull the puppy eyes. Like Kyle doesn't have enough to deal with. "No. You're having the couch."

"Please."

"No."

"Pleaseee?"

"No."

"... please-"

"Okay! Fine." Kyle throws his hands up in defeat. "You win." He turns towards the bathroom, and calls over his shoulder, "But I will kick you out if you even touch my side."

"Yayy!" Stan cheers, like he isn't a grown ass man.

"Oh god.." Kyle sighs as he walks out the door. He was not in any way affected by Stan's giggling. Not at all.

His face is absolutely not tinted pink. It's the lighting of the bathroom and the dirty mirror that makes it look like it.

"Fuck." Kyle inhales as he stares at his own reflection.

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