South Park One-Shots

Remember When - Stenny

   Trigger warning. Swearing, underage drinking.

   Kenny's pov

   I quietly hummed to myself as I flopped onto my bed. I had a long day and I was ready to finally get some sleep. Until I heard my father yelling my name, telling me to come into the living room. I groaned as I slowly stood up and walked out of room, accidentally bumping into my father.

   "Your stupid friend is drunk. Again. Take care of it," he grumbled. My eyes fell to the floor and I nodded. He was talking about Stan, of course. I cursed under my breath as I made my way to the living room. I walked into the small room and found Stan laying on my couch, staring up at the ceiling and quietly giggling to himself. As I got closer, I saw that Stan had a nearly full beer bottle in his hand. I rolled my eyes to myself as I walked up to him.

   "Come on, Stan. Let's go to my room," I said quietly, grabbing his free hand and helping him to his feet. He fell into my chest, almost dropping the bottle. I quickly grabbed it from his hand and set it on the floor. I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled him into my room. He giggled as I made him sit down on my bed. I walked over to my door and quickly closed it, locking it as well. No one else needed to see Stan in his drunken state.

   "You're such a good friend, Kenny. I love you," he hummed as he looked up at me, his blue eyes sparkling. His cheeks were a bit flushed. I sighed softly as I stood in front of him, bringing my hand forward to gently caress his cheek. He grinned, slightly leaning into my touch. I've wanted him to be more than my friend for years now. Around the time I finally got the courage to tell him this, he had landed himself in a relationship with Wendy. 

   "Come lay with me," he demanded, giggling to himself afterwards. I rolled my eyes as I pulled away from him. I walked over to my closet, pulling out one of my old long sleeve shirts and a pair of sweatpants. I walked back over to the drunken boy and gently tossed the clothes into his lap.

   "You should change. Sleeping in jeans is not very fun," I chuckled. He smirked as he stood up, pushing his face closer to mine.

   "You should help me change," he purred. I felt my cheeks heat up and I quickly pushed him away from me.

   "Shut the hell up and change. I'll be back in a minute," I said quickly as I walked over to my door. I fumbled with the lock and eventually managed to get the door open. I almost slammed the door shut and took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. What the hell was all that about? He has never come on to me like that. I shook my head as I walked into the living room. I picked up Stan's beer bottle and decided to just pour the rest out. There was no sense in both of us being drunk.

   I quietly threw away the beer bottle and slowly made my way back to my room. I was still baffled by his unexpected flirting. I shook it off and decided that it was nothing, he was just drunk and trying to get some kind of reaction from me. I snuck back into my room and closed the door behind me, locking it once more. I turned around and found Stan sitting on the edge of my bed. He looked so cute in my clothes. The shirt was a little too big for him, the sleeves covering his entire arms and then some. I quietly walked over and sat next to him. He immediately rested his head on my shoulder, his warm breath fanning my neck.

   "Do you remember in seventh grade when we would steal my dad's beer and he would get so pissed at himself because he thought he drank it all?" Stan asked me, giggling softly. I smiled faintly at the memory of young me and Stan drinking all of his dad's beer. Eventually, I grew out of that phase and stopped drinking. Stan never was able to grow out of it. I nodded as I rested my head against Stan's.

   "Yeah, I remember."

   "And remember when we stole your dad's truck just for the hell of it?" he laughed out. I chuckled softly and nodded again. It was silent for a moment until I heard a sniffle. I frowned to myself and looked down at Stan, seeing tears leaking from his eyes.

   "I wanna go back," he whispered, his voice breaking. I felt my heart shatter a little. I pulled the shorter boy into my lap and held him while he silently cried. I gently rocked us back and forth, humming a soft tune. Stan eventually stopped crying and wrapped his arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. I smiled softly and wrapped my arms around his waist. There was nothing I could do for the poor boy but hold him and allow him to reminisce.

   Ahh, I know I say this every time but I'm sorry this one sucked. I'm having a case of writer's block and I thought publishing something, even if it was awful, would make me feel better. Feel free to point out any errors or give me constructive criticism, it is greatly appreciated.