86 Feelings (Stan x Kenny)[Completed]

7

(Day 411)

He'd been doing so well for the last week. Somehow, he was able to escape into nothingness, and pretend that he didn't feel something for Kenny.

They were drunk again at Clyde and Cartman's though, and that spelled disaster for Stan. He couldn't keep his eyes off of Kenny. It was more intoxicating than the alcohol. Stan was also drunk enough to not give a shit if he got caught staring at him by anyone else.

It was easier to get away with it tonight, neither of their girlfriends were there, and even Craig wasn't paying attention to anything. Kyle chose to stay sober, naturally; Stan thought that maybe his best friend elected to remain sober for him.

Stan watched the group of guys play a large game of Uno. Usually, their go-to game was Mario Kart, but they'd been getting burnt out on it lately. Of course, Stan didn't want to participate so he could watch Kenny. It seemed more creepy than he'd considered it before, but with a tip back of the whiskey bottle, he couldn't find a reason to care.

Kenny noticed more than he let on.

Every once and awhile, he'd feel the eyes on him, and steal a glance from the corner of his eye. Stan didn't care. It didn't matter anyway. Neither of them would say shit about shit, and Stan would continue in his shitty relationship with a shitty girl he didn't even really give a shit about.

Everything is shit. He had to set the whiskey bottle down. If Stan continued like this, he'd surely pass out in a puddle of his own vomit.

Although Clyde was just as drunk as everyone else, he picked up on Stan's absence. Granted, it was about fifteen minutes into the game, but he still whipped around like a maniac trying to find the silent, raven-haired guy. "Stan? Marsh?! Where my boy at?!"

Groaning a little, Stan knew everyone was now paying attention to him. Especially Kenny. But, he had to act normal. "What's up?"

Cartman shifted over, squishing Kyle against Kenny unknowingly. Or he didn't care, no one could ever tell with the guy. "Marshley! G-Get over here, and help me whoop some Jew ass!"

Marshley? Man, how are they more drunk than me? It tugged a smile onto his face, though. They knew how to have a good fucking time.

He sat in the small empty space between Cartman and Clyde, happily taking the joint passed to him from across the circle where Tweek was in Craig's lap. Stan couldn't help but wonder how it would be to sit in Kenny's lap - the joint made the thoughts go away, for now.

Since Kenny was also drunk, and much more intelligent than he led others to believe, he chose to let his guard down. Stan swore he noticed those dark blues lingering on him for longer than usual. It made his breath catch in his chest. Was it just his imagination?

Throughout the game, Stan noticed it a few more times. Logically, he wanted to dismiss it as part of his altered state, but when Kenny thought Stan wasn't paying attention, he stared at him as he knocked back a shot. It felt like a stab in his stomach; he felt alive again. Everything ignited like Kenny's eyes were the spark, and he was the gasoline.

The part of himself he tried so desperately to hide was seeping out. With Stan's darkness exposed, he smirked unabashedly at the realization that something more was definitely brewing right before his eyes. People didn't just meet by accident, Kenny had some sort of purpose in his life, and Stan could feel that it was something huge.

Maybe Kenny could feel it too, from the smile that reached his eyes when they looked at each other again, it was worth thinking about. Holy shit! That damn smile.. I just wanna- Stan had to ground himself with a tight grip to his scarred wrist - he absolutely could not be daydreaming about fucking Kenny right then.

The ravenous lust rippled through with a charged surge of excitement. It had been a long time since he felt so incredibly in control, yet displaced from himself entirely. Stan wanted Kenny, why keep denying it?

Like a decent guy, however, Stan didn't breathe a word of what plagued his consciousness. They both made their choices, and it had to be just that.

Dark blue eyes were his kryptonite no matter how many times he told himself that his feelings didn't affect him. The longer he sat across from Kenny, the more his body seemed to vibrate like a magnet disrupted from its destination.

Stan needed to go home.

He stood abruptly in the midst of whatever game it had drunkenly devolved into, and staggered towards his stuff in the kitchen. Kyle immediately caught up with him just in time to grab his elbow before he could fall. Stan was suddenly a lot more drunk than he realized.

"Hey," Kyle wasn't going to let him mess up too bad, even if the drinking did irritate him. He always supported him with that familiar, annoyed sass: "Let's get your dumbass home."

The rest of the group didn't notice their departure, everyone was much too drunk. But, as Stan was shrugging on his coat, he caught Kenny's eyes; they reflected an emotion so unreadable, that Stan just wanted it to be something that resembled care.

No. I need to just forget about it.. forget about him.

Stan left for home with Kyle, melancholy in his denial for happiness.

A/N: Ch.8 today, too??