ⱴɨⱴɑ Ɫɑ ʀɛʂɨʂʈɑɳcɛ [Yaoi SP One-on-One]

[TheTweek]

「「 k y l e xxx c h r i s xxx i k e xxx t w e e k 」」 xxx

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Ike lifted his eyes slightly at his lover's comment, still contently lounging across his form. He paid no heed to the fact that his boyfriend was making out with another person, and it was obvious by the way he examined his nails, before Filmore finally set back and Ike pulled him in with both hands to heatedly steal all that affection right back with his own mouth before drawing away to answer his question.

"Mmmmm..." he turned to stare at the other two as they stared at eachother competitively with a bemused expression before turning and looking back at Filmore. "If they're anything like they were when they were younger, then Frenchfry probably won't have a choice," he murmured against Filmore's neck with his arms laced around his middle, failing to stifle a yawn with the back of his hand as he stretched out his legs.

Christophe was still staring at Gregory dumbfoundedly, even when his lover began making out with what appeared to be Ike's partner in crime, AKA the kid who had proposed being into a pornographic film just moments earlier. Suddenly feeling very ambushed, he stared at Gregory grudgingly when he finally pulled away, glaring.

"Zat eez absolutely ridiculous. Non, je refuse, zat is absolutely degrading." He stared at Gregory heatedly, before looking between the other three in their company, seeming to catch himself and blinking slightly. "Oh, sheet. I don't mean eet like zat, you are all wondairful people. But really, not my zing," he said, lapsing back with his arms folded as he stared down the rest of the group.

Ike simply looked at him, before looking at Filmore, and then at Gregory with a risen eyebrow. Before the Brit even had a chance to rebut, he beamed. "I'll arrange payment for two more. You will be tres bon," he added to Christophe, who glared at him as he turned back to do cheesy kissy things to Filmore that he knew he hated, arms locked around his neck to keep him from pushing Ike off while he had fun being his usual obnoxious self.


----


"C-C-Craig, T... T..- Thom..." he stared at them highly, having entirely zoned out, caught up in the fearful walls. He was not liking this, this touching thing, but he had no way to alert them of this discomfort. Feeling even more constricted within reason, he tried to register what was happening. He knew he was high, that was a given, but reminding himself wasn't helping his head clear any more. Eyes darting back and forth still and occasionally hooding over entirely as he got lost in something, he stared down as Thomas began to sob against his chest, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and afraid.

His eyes flickered even more as he tried to calm himself down. He could feel that he was coming down, but the fact that he was strapped in was petrifying. He stared at Craig, seeing the tears in his eyes, and became instantly convinced that he was higher than he thought he was. Craig Tucker didn't cry.

"Oh my god - I - Craig - you... you're crying -- oh god --" the blond broke off slightly, eye twitching as he maintained his skittery small animal appearance. His teeth were even chattering slightly, as though this would make up for the inability to move any other limb. The chattering turned to a slow grind, something that he'd picked up recently that Thomas had mentioned only just last week, but only now was the cause of his strange habits probably evident to the other two.

He'd been going down for a while. He freaked out a few times when Craig had come onto him, and his aggression had been outstanding, particularly toward Thomas over things as stupid as dinner arrangements. The quivering blond's eyes squinted shut as he recalled his last past week slowly, and his lovers' suspicions, and as he realized that he was in a hospital, with Thomas and Craig, ******** up on meth, everything suddenly sank in.

He began to thrash against his bonds regardless of Thomas' nesting of his stomach trying to buck him off furiously, both of their comments flying in one ear and out the other as he began to screech.

"GOD -- BOTH OF YOU, GOD -- get me the ******** out of this bed! Get me the ******** OUT!" the shrill distress in his voice only made him seem to panic as he fell still once Thomas at least recoiled, and he tilted his head against the bedspread, breath coming in half-shortened gasps of panic through his paranoia and fear as he stared around, gritting his teeth as he tried to tug his thin wrist out of it's tight bind, only making the skin raw instead of doing himself any justice.

"I'm not supposed to be here -- GRAH -- take me home! Take me home!" he stared at Craig furiously, every inch of his body shaking, the readings on his monitors enough to draw the doctors into the room at a panic. Tweek only started to scream at them, accusing them of nonsensical subjects like keeping him there forever and the like. "I swear -- GOD -- G-GOD -- AGH -- go away! I want to go home! I'm not sick!" He shrieked even louder as the doctors worked again at stabilizing the thrashing thirty year old, slipping various calming drugs into the IV with care. A doctor glanced up as a nurse prepared another unnamed needle and then looked wearily at Craig and Thomas, obviously petrified of Craig specifically considering the hassle they'd all received, and gently pressing the button for his pager on security in preparation for his next words.

"We're going to have to ask you to leave for now, guys, he'll be okay, he's just having a panic episode... this is common in long-term users. He'll have come down all the way in an hour or so, and you guys can come back if you want to," he assured best he could as the other's went to work at the shrieking male in the bed.

Kyle had reduced to regretful tears in Kenny's absence, feeling terrible about himself, about everything. He wasn't even entirely sure what had just happened, and everything felt dreamlike and horribly surreal. Wiping his eyes on his wrists, he hiccupped slightly as he finally managed to hold back the waterworks, glancing up and looking at some nurses he didn't recognize as they wandered by with an empty feeling setting in, something he hadn't felt since Kenny had slammed Cartman's front door a day ago.

Bitterly, he became confused, suddenly petrified that perhaps this had all been a dream, and he was just waiting for Cartman after another long hospital visit. He almost jumped out of his skin as someone plunked down beside him, and he turned -- twitching with relief as he looked at Kenny as he kneaded his hands in his lap. Lifting his shaking hands around the other male as he was rested back against the chair he was sitting in with Kenny nestled on top of him between his legs, he tried to hide his previous panic as he shut his eyes and tightened his grip around the marine, burying his face in his shoulder.

"You know I'd never do something like that," he offered weakly into Kenny's shoulder, running his hand through the blond's hair and taking in his scent as deeply as he could to reprint it in his memory with care, fingertips of his opposite hand kneading into the back of Kenny's sweater firmly. "I love you, Ken. I know we did s**t like that in highschool but that's over ten years in the past," he comforted, letting his eyes slide open slightly. He could feel eyes of other people in the hospital but didn't meet them, content in staring down the length of Kenny's body. "Besides, I don't think I could party anymore even if I tried. Don't worry."

He turned the marine's face toward his own to engage him in a long kiss before pulling back with his head against an armrest, lifting a hand to sweep away at anymore tears on his cheeks. "Tweek will be okay... he just needs some help right now... and I know Craig is pissed but if he called you he can't seriously be mad forever. I'll just make sure not to come next time." His voice hollowed slightly in his closing statement and he closed his eyes so Kenny couldn't read into them, still wrapped around the blond with every limb.

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[x X Zombiecest X x]

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Greg glanced at Christophe for a few long moments before turning so he was half-straddling his lover, sliding a leg in between the Frenchman’s and running his tongue over his cheek slowly. He spoke, his voice a light murmur as he pressed his lips against Chris’ cheek and wriggled around, glancing back at Ike and Filmore appreciatively. “You’re doing it already, Christophe. And don’t think of it as being a porno, think of it as humiliating an entire nation. Their prized military commander pinned to a bed on camera, beneath a Frenchman and an American and getting drilled, all while wearing a dress and screaming like a girl. Do you know the shame you’d be able to bring to an entire country through doing me on camera this one time? And you might like it, baby.” He smirked and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Everyone will know I’m yours that way.”

He slipped off of Chris’ lap and slid back in between them, kissing him again softly, lips trailing down his lover’s neck as he ghosted his finger’s over the Frenchman’s inner thigh. “Besides, it’ll be relatively simple money. We just fool around, act a little, ********… It’ll be fun.”

Filmore made a face, pushing at Ike’s head lightly. “God, I wish you wouldn’t do this, man. You’re so kissy all the time.” He stuck his tongue out, tickling Ike’s side to get him off before managing to detach the black-haired boy’s arms from his neck. He spoke, his voice low as he pressed his face against Ike’s neck and slid his hands down, grasping the younger man’s a** tightly and beginning to lick at his neck. “Think they know how a porno works? And how ******** stupid is your script this time? Because last time it was so dumb. I didn’t understand why I was coming into people’s homes and stuff.”

The last porno he had done had been Moulin Splooge, and Filmore, who was, well, a Clyde Donovan of another generation, had missed every reference in it and had simply paid attention to the fact that he was breaking into a set, watching the actress undress, find she was a man, and have sex. He had missed the references Ike had slid in, and to Filmore, it had been stupid dialogue.

There was a reason he was a porn star and not Einstein.


[------]


Craig recoiled sharply when Tweek flipped out, standing up and taking a step back. Thomas looked between his two lovers, eyes wide as he tried to calm Tweek down, although he was starting to freak out again. Craig wiped his tears hastily and nearly looked like he was about to let Tweek up when the doctors came in. One of them had the pure audacity to ask him to leave and Craig flipped out again, starting to scream and yell at the man, Thomas tugging on his hand. Craig spoke, dropping from yelling to a low, menacing growl as he spoke to the doctor. “I am not leaving his side! He is mine and if you think for five goddamn seconds that I’m leaving this room while he’s in ******** pain, then ******** YOU.”

Thomas made a noise of despair and tugged on one of Craig’s hands desperately, murmuring, “Craig, please, let’s just –BALLS- go. Tweek doesn’t need you getting arrested. Please, Craig let’s –AW s**t- get out of here!”

“I am NOT leaving him, Thomas! You go wait with Kenny if you want but I’m NOT stepping foot outside of this room no matter what!”

Thomas continued tugging, pulling Craig back slightly. “Craig, pl- Ah!”

The sickening sound of Craig’s hand meeting Thomas’ cheek filled the room and it went almost silent except for the beep of Tweek’s heart monitor. Thomas stood there for a few moments, looking on the verge of tears, and then he promptly slapped Craig right back, crossing his arms defiantly and looking up at his much taller lover. He spoke, his voice relatively calm for once. “Craig Tucker, you get your –b***h- a** into the waiting room now!”

Craig looked startled, glanced at Tweek one last time and then back at Thomas, who was fighting back tears. He took one look at the trembling blonde and then offered him a hand, Thomas throwing himself against Craig’s chest and holding onto him tightly. Craig led him out to the waiting room, looking at the two men on the chairs and walking over, sitting down at their heads. Craig spoke, his voice low and strained. “Kenny.”

Kenny sat up, resting on Kyle’s thighs and looking at Craig steadily. “What’s up?”

Craig let go of Thomas and leaned across Kyle, dropping his head and looking the picture of despair. Kenny gave Kyle an apologetic look and moved off of him, sitting next to Craig and opening his arms a little. The dark-haired man looked at Kenny and then moved forward the littlest bit, resting his head against Kenny’s shoulder before pulling Thomas into his lap. Kenny wrapped his arms around the both of them, Thomas trembling and sobbing in his arms as Craig simply breathed, his entire body tense. Kenny held them both before looking at Kyle, extending an arm towards him before his gaze fell on someone who was just entering the ER.

Kenny stood but it was Craig who moved past him, leaving Thomas shaking on the chairs before he scooted over, dropping his head on Kyle’s shoulder and crying into his neck. Kenny glanced at the two men behind him before he decided to stay where he was, going into military parade rest and all but standing guard over the two.

Cartman was standing there, nursing a bloody hand and looking around. He spotted Craig and was about to say something when Craig’s fist made contact with Cartman’s face. Cartman was like a tree; he just stood there, looking at Craig. Cartman had the advantage despite his bloodied hand, but Craig was flipping the ******** out and would probably be nigh unstoppable in the event of an actual fight. Cartman spoke, pissed off at the fact that he had just been punched in the face. “What the ******** was that for, you a*****e?”

Craig pointed at Kyle and Cartman’s eyes widened before they slipped to Kenny, who was in front of Thomas and Kyle still. The brown-haired man’s mouth worked furiously before Craig smashed his fist into Cartman’s face again. “What the [********] did you do to Kyle? Why is he so bruised? I might not ******** like him but I like Kenny and you ******** hurt Kyle, I KNOW you did!”

Cartman shoved past Craig, walked over towards Kyle. “Kahl! I thought you were dead, Kahl, I was so upset!”

Kenny stared at Cartman in disbelief before he jerked his head to Craig. Craig was there in a second, grabbing Cartman around the neck and throwing him to the ground before stepping down on his stomach hard enough to drive the air from the heavyset man beneath him. He spoke, his voice a growl. “Thomas, go get them.”

Thomas shook his head, getting up and walking over to Craig. “Baby, no, please… Please… I hate when –********- you do this.”

Craig gave Thomas an oddly calm look, shaking his head. “Go on, Thom.”

Thomas gave them both a reproachful look before running out of the ER. Craig grabbed Cartman and hefted him to his feet, spitting in his face and shoving him towards the door. “We’re ******** going to fight like men. I’m a shitload bigger than Kyle and I won’t take your goddamn crap so get your fat ******** a** outside!”

They strode toward the door, Craig baring his teeth at Cartman every time the bigger man attempted to make a run for it, and Kenny turned to Kyle, pulling him to his feet and kissing him lightly. “Look. Craig’s willing to go to jail for us. He cares. Come on. Let’s head out.”

They got outside and Craig was standing beside Thomas, yanking on a nasty looking pair of brass knuckles and strapping them on solemnly, glancing at Cartman every few seconds before kissing Thomas lightly and shoving him towards Kenny and Kyle. He took a fighting stance and glanced at Kyle. “Got anything to say, Jew?”

[TheTweek]

「「 k y l e xxx c h r i s xxx i k e xxx t w e e k 」」 xxx

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Christophe seemed only a bit less perplexed down as his lover leaned on him, trying to seduce him into this horrible idea as per usual. Acting had never been an issue of his, and neither had sex, but really... on camera gave it all a whole new side he wasn't sure if he wanted to see.

The humiliation aspect did make fair bribery, however. He wiped his face in irritation after being licked before kissing Gregory back hesitantly, quirking an eyebrow at mention of money. "I 'ave more zen enough money for ze boz of us. Payment eez 'ardly a problem," he said slowly, leaning back. "Zees eez all a maybe. I'm not saying yes to anyzing unteel I find out what ze fock I am getting myself into," he grumbled, sweeping an arm around Gregory securely and staring at a window. Aislin smiled a bit at the two of them, adjusting 'his' cleavage slightly. "Ih's noh' as bad as ih' seems, luv. Qweet fun ack'chilly."

Christophe looked at the crossdresser a moment, quite skeptical. It was kind of weird for there to be a girl in this porn, especially in the company of the three men with him. At the same time, Ike seemed pretty free-spirited, and had even when they were all younger... or at least, that's what Kyle had indicated. Leaning his cheek against Gregory's blond curls with a sigh, he sighed slightly. God, he just wanted to land. He hated planes. So much awkward energy.

Ike released a strange, quiet squawky scream as he was tickled, flailing out of Filmore's lap and smirking at his success before leaning back against the armrest slightly. He made a content noise at Filmore's affections before sweeping his fingertips fondly behind the other ravenette's ear fondly. "It's not that my scripts suck, baby, it's that you're dumb as a doorknob. But it's okay. I love you anyway," he teased, cupping his face up out of his shoulder to kiss him realistically this time, before drawing away.

"I'll make you sit down and watch Moulin Rouge with me at some point and if you can sit still for that long, then you'll understand how ******** awesome that movie was," he drawled. 'Movie' being, his porno, not the feature it was based around. He dipped down to bite his lover's earlobe, before leaning away a bit and sinking into his lap more comfortably with his legs extended and crossed at the ankle while he rose his arms above his head in a comfortable stretch.

"This script is actually pretty stupid, though. I admit it. Not much you can do making a porno parody of the worst movie of all time," he said with a shrug, and an amused smirk. Some of his features he made specifically for comedy. He didn't know how people managed to get off to some of that stuff, but god, whatever. He was a director, not a critic.


----


Kyle glanced up as Craig and Thomas returned to them, a hand knitting in Kenny's hair while he was still at his side before he released him as he went to hold Craig. The sight was depressing for Kyle, and he laced his hands together neatly in his lap as he watched the two men break down in Kenny's arms. He openly took Thomas in as Craig left them, holding onto the blond with care and glancing up in confusion as to what the hell Kenny was standing for and where Craig had gone, anyway.

Then, a wild boar appeared.

Kyle was out of that seat so fast that Thomas was probably confused a moment to where his cuddle buddy went, but the redhead was across the lobby in a second's time after jumping away from Cartman like a cat walking on hot coals. His shoulders hitched slightly and the fear was evident in his eyes, mingling with confusion as Craig came to the rescue at Kenny's nod. He could do little more than watch in disbelief as the fight simmered before him, and before he knew it, he was getting dragged outside by Kenny, holding onto him tightly and kind of fearfully at what was about to go down.

He spread his arms slightly to catch the stumbling Thomas as Craig shoved the blond towards them, helping him steady himself before looking at Craig uncertainly as he spoke. He stepped forward at that point, resting a hand on the dark-haired male's chest in a signal for him to wait before he turned toward Cartman, still trying to shake off his shivers from staring the man down again. He walked toward him slowly, not meeting eyes with anyone else as he reached forward and knitted his hands into the front of his jacket before pulling him down calmly to eyelevel... and bringing his knee up hard into the other man's balls.

He pushed him backward before cracking his neck, obviously feeling better as he walked away and nodded to Craig slightly as he pulled up to his side and leaned to talk into his ear, looking tired. "You don't have to do this, dude... but if it makes you feel better. Thank you," he offered quietly, before walking back to Kenny and leaning into his chest to hide his eyes from the fight that was about to take place.

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[x X Zombiecest X x]

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Filmore nodded, looking at the couple across from them and biting his lip before leaning over, moving Ike off his lap and kicking up the arm rests in between the seats so he could lay down, his arms around his boyfriend as he held him close and kissed his lips lightly. He loved Ike so much more than he had ever loved anyone else in his whole life and he was happy with just being near him. Filmore was absolutely head over heels in love, and he didn’t care who knew it. He was so happy with Ike, and he had never, ever felt this way before in his life.

The porn star moved his lips down a little bit and bit Ike’s neck lightly, sucking on it unabashedly and humming in the back of his throat as he drew his tongue over Ike’s pale flesh. He pulled back a little bit and spoke, his voice soft and sweet. “I love you, Ike. And when we get home, I’m taking you to an expensive restaurant and we’re having a real date for once, and then I’ll take you home and ******** your brains out. Nobody else with us. Just us two, some music, and the night. It’ll be romantic and we haven’t been romantic in a long time…”

He pulled Ike closer, ignoring the fact that he was pretty much spooning his boyfriend in public on an airplane, and kissed him again lightly. He smiled at him and bit his neck again, continuing to suck. “Mm… God, Ike, I’m so happy I’m with you.”

Gregory wrapped his arms around Christophe, running his hands up and down his lover’s back, scratching him lightly with his nails. He looked at his lover sensuously and smiled, turning Christophe’s head towards him and kissing him lightly. He smirked, starting to trace patterns on Chris’ back lightly. The blonde spoke, his voice soft as he shifted in the Frenchman’s lap. “Mm… I love you, Christophe… besides, aren’t you the tiniest bit curious about what’d be like to be in a porno? I think it’ll be exciting.”

He leaned up, pressing his lips to Christophe’s cheek before dropping his head onto his lover’s shoulder and hugging him tightly. “Please do it for me? It might be fun and we might learn some stuff to do on our own.”


[------]


Craig looked at Kyle and then nodded, licking his lips as he stared Cartman down, rage totally visible in his blue eyes and his entire body tense with a sort of anger that he hadn’t exhibited in years. Cartman, eyes watering from the abuse to his genitalia, stared back at Craig, who was exhibiting a carnal anger and making sure the brass knuckles were on there so they wouldn’t slip. His one hand was already ******** up from punching a hole in the wall earlier, but he was ignoring the burning pain in his hand and focusing on beating the s**t out of Cartman sometime in the near future.

Kenny spoke, his voice a sharp command as he held onto both Kyle and the shaking Thomas. “Craig! Look at me, you ********]

Craig let his eyes drift to Kenny momentarily, arching an eyebrow. “The ******** you want, McCormick?”

Kenny smiled at him and then shook his head. “If you die, I’m taking Thomas and Tweek in. So don’t let that happen.”

Craig’s eyes narrowed at Kenny and he flicked him off before looking at Cartman, who looked about ready to piss his pants. In the last five years he had been doing nothing but pushing people around and now all of a sudden he was face to face with Craig Tucker, who was terrifying under normal circumstances, and when one or both of his boys was in trouble, was a ******** monster. He looked about ready to start breathing fire.

Craig was the first to move, slamming one reinforced fist into Cartman’s face and snarling in satisfaction as the metal slammed into the other’s jaw. Cartman took a step back, tensing up, and Craig spoke, his voice full of hate. “You aren’t gonna fight back? Five years of domestic abuse hindered your ability to actually fight? You’re scared of someone who won’t just lie down and take it, huh?” He swung his fist again, clipping Cartman’s nose and forcing him back another step, Cartman still a little incapacitated because of the damage to his balls.

Cartman glared at him and then went for Craig’s face, catching him hard and busting his lip. The dark-haired man snapped then, starting to beat the s**t out of Cartman with little resolve. Thomas shook and quivered like a leaf, watching the two men grapple on the ground. The blonde wrapped his arms around Kyle, pressing his face to the redhead’s shoulder and sobbing; it was obvious that he was breaking and there was nothing anyone could do.

Kenny held onto the two of them tightly, a hand on the back of Thom’s head, his other arm around Kyle’s waist as he rested his chin on Kyle’s red hair and watching Craig beat the ever-loving s**t out of Cartman. The two men were grappling, Cartman’s hands around Craig’s neck and Craig driving his injured fist into Cartman’s face repeatedly, blood running down his arm from the broken and bruised knuckles and dripping off his chin from his split lip.

[TheTweek]

「「 k y l e xxx c h r i s xxx i k e xxx t w e e k 」」 xxx

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Ike hummed quietly in the back of his throat with contentment as he was slid down against the seat, curling up against the older of the pair and feeling awfully like a teenager again in these humorous little promises and things. Bearing in mind of course that he hardly considered himself being grown up at all, he did still look younger than most men at his age, and he had absolutely zero complaints. He licked his lips a bit and turned his head slightly to glance at Filmore from his profile.

"You know, I never imagined hearing the words 'romantic' and '******** your brains out' in the same few sentences before. I kind of like it," he teased, before kissing Filmore's temple and nodding a bit. He could only agree; he'd been through a lot of lovers, boys and girls, all through his life, but his comfort rested best in the fiery black-haired porn star with his arms around him now, and the thought alone made him grin a bit. Even with the pain of the thought that his older brother was dead, he felt endless support from Filmore. When Stan had called him, he'd been hysteric. Still the pain bit at him but he put on his good ol' smiley face anyway.

He was by all means one for attention, but it was usually on the spot things. He tended to freeze up on camera and was horribly self conscious, which was why he preferred to be the puppet master behind the scenes as opposed to centre stage. He could act when necessary, yes, but he felt so much safer being the man that moved the pieces.

"I love you, eh? Never forget that," he muttered, a piece of his Canadian side slipping out unconsciously as he pulled Filmore's hand around him to kiss his fingers thoughtfully. It would be a nice conclusion to their day after getting through the funeral arrangements... but oh god, were his parents going to flip when they found out he was dating Filmore now, instead of that Margaret girl he'd been dating the last time he'd seen them. He grinned evilly at this thought and relished in it as he curled closer to his boyfriend.

Christophe wrapped both arms around the blond's waist welcomingly, holding him in his lap as he looked him over slightly with interest. "Not really. I never 'ave ze time to associate with eet," he replied breezily. Porn was kind of stupid in his opinion. "I love you too, zo. Very mush. And I suppose I will do it... just for you," he grumbled finally, sliding a hand down and cupping Gregory's a** gently as he kissed him slowly and used his other hand to brush a few stray locks of blond from the other man's eyes.

"I can nah guarantee zat I will be able to take eet seriously zo, 'owevair," he warned with a wolfy smirk and a n** of the blond's shoulders, sliding his hands up and down his sides before he leaned back slightly and pulled Greg down against his chest, holding him close.

"I suppose I would nah 'ave any choice, zo, hmm? You'd make me some'ow. you have zat powair over me, and I know zat you like to abuse it," he muttered against his ear, glancing over a moment to make sure his mother was still asleep across the isle before looking back at his lover thoughtfully.


----


Kyle weaved himself further against Kenny's chest as the fight broke out, unwilling to actually turn around and watch, more out of fear from both parties than anything. He reached to hold Thomas' waist with him pressed close in an attempt to comfort while he continued to cling into Kenny. The statement on domestic abuse brought a few unnecessary tears to the red head's eyes but he swallowed them down, trying to get ahold of himself and not feel guilty.

Shoulders twitching with each growl and sound of the fight behind him, Kyle only rose his head slightly when some outstanding noise cause his attention. An outbreak had sprung from the front of the hospital building, and two or three doctors and nurses were chasing after a familiar blond figure plowing out of the front entrance rigidly in nothing but a white hospital gown and his sneakers, hair it's usual disarrayed mess above his head. Tweek seemed to scout the area twitchily for a moment before his eyes fell on the scene, and Kyle's grip released on both Thomas and Kenny slightly as the wiry meth addict stormed through the parking lot and snow bare-legged with little to no notice of the weather it seemed, the doctors and nurses trailing far behind him, unwilling to chase him in case of a scare.

Tweek trudged up to them straight-faced, blood dripping from the top of his left hand from where the intravenous had obviously been torn straight out, likely be Tweek himself. Still practically vibrating, whether it was from the remainders of the drugs in his system or his subconscious reacting to the cold, he stormed up behind them, shoving roughly by the two other blonds and the redhead in order to come up behind Craig. With some kind of mystery strength totally unexpected from a skeletal man half of Craig's size, likely from the drugs, he grabbed the back of the black-haired man's turtleneck with both hands and ripped him off of the bloodied and battered Cartman, half-tossing and half dropping him back into a snowbank beside Thomas, Kyle and Kenny. He stood there for a moment, shaking and panting, before becoming animated again in that strange rag-doll like way that suggested that he was seriously struggling with reality in that moment.

Kyle watched in dis-belief as the tweaking blond checked to make sure Eric wouldn't be getting up to turn on them again before walking over to Craig and dropping onto his lap in a straddle, batting away any attempts to hit him. "Craig! CRAIG!" he screamed at him a few more times before giving him a firm slap across the face, matching the one from Thomas' earlier, to snap him out of his blind rage. He paused after, shaking him and calling his name, before grabbing the black haired male's hands in order to tug the brass knuckles off with care not to injure him more. Staring over the snowbank at the now sprinting doctors and nurses as they realized the weight of the situation, Tweek hastily shoved the weaponry under his feet into his sneakers to hide them as sirens could already be heard over the city to scout out the fight.

Kyle could do little more but stare at Tweek's back and legs from the split in the back of his hospital gown, the rest of his body hidden by his boxers, but the evidence of his addiction was even more substancial now that he wasn't strapped in to pressed blankets. His scars and scabs didn't stop on his arms as Kyle had imagined they would have; if anything the rest of his body was in worse condition, complete with self-inflicted claw marks in random patches of his skin, moreso his neck and shoulders than anything. The thing that hit Kyle the hardest that probably only Kenny would recognize so well were the bruise and battery of his hips and thighs that Kyle remembered all too well from the last-resort days of the poverty of the McCormick family, when Kenny had actually taken up prostitution.

Tweek was selling his body into this condition, and Kyle felt himself start to realistically cry into Kenny's shoulder again, entirely throttled by disbelief.

The blond hoisted up and staggered off of Craig as the paramedics finally flighted the scene, taking in the battered Cartman and equally dishevelled Craig while Tweek covered his eyes on the ground, pulling his knees up slightly with his hands tugging at his falling-out hair as he tried to recollect himself. Kyle finally broke away from Thomas and Kenny as cops flooded the scene to apprehend Craig and Cartman while Tweek twitched away, hissing and shouting at the nurses as they tried to coax him into a jacket and back to the hospital.

"Tweek! TWEEK! Tweek, listen to me!"

The owl-wide eyes of the meth addict turned on Kyle with such anger and apprehension that Kyle was almost taken aback, but they seemed to soften in recognition. Kyle stared back at him a moment before spreading his arms and inviting the blond into them, and the shivering wreck of a barely human being. He looked at Thomas a moment as he felt Tweek's skin hit him like ice, making a point to pull off his - Kenny's - sweater and slide it over the blond's head, stroking his own tears away as he took the panicking blond's hand. "Come on, Tweek. Please, just come back. I know you're scared, but we just want to make sure you aren't going to feel sick before we send you h-home, okay?" he tried, glancing between the other two blonds before back at the quivering man next to him. Tweek was transfixed, it seemed, staring at the bruise and battery of Kyle's body, before looking up at him again in realization.

Craig had mentioned it before, that Cartman was laying it into Kyle now and then, but evidently it hadn't clicked to the blond exactly how serious the situation had been getting as the five years he hadn't seen Kyle progressed. Tweek stared at the red head before staring at Cartman, who was being loaded onto a stretcher in handcuffs, and then turning to Kyle with a hollow, shrieking laugh as he threw his arms around him, practically shaking Kyle's brains out with his own twitches and tremors.

"Oh- oh God! I shoulda - I shoulda let him kill him!" he said through his laughter, seeming unwilling to leave Kyle's hold for the moment, and the red head took that to his advantage as he nodded to the nurses, his skin burning from the cold as he reached for Thomas and Kenny as he helped escort the blond back to the ER.

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Filmore smiled slightly and ran his fingers through the other man’s hair fleetingly, pressing soft, gentle lips against the younger man’s forehead and murmuring, “I love you, too, Ike. I know you know that. No matter how many pornos I do or how many other men I sleep with, I’m always going to love you the most.” He slid his hand up Ike’s shirt, lithe, slim fingers ghosting over one of Ike’s nipples as he drew him into a loving kiss, a content purr leaving his red lips as he pulled Ike into a kiss.

The night that Stan had called had been more than dreadful for the both of them. Granted, it had only been the night before, but the wounds were as fresh as anything and felt like they had been there for so, so long. Ike had been more upset than Filmore had ever seen him. He had hung up the phone, come into the bedroom, and cried for a long, long while, Filmore keeping his arms around his dark-haired lover the entire time. He knew that even now, despite the brave face that the Canadian had on, Ike was being eaten up inside, and he was, too, a little bit. He felt like there was so much more that could have been done, so many things that they both could have said, put into action, to get Cartman the ******** away from Kyle before it was too late. He felt the guilt like a bullet.

It was one of those things he couldn’t help but feel. They had all known Kyle was in a terrible relationship; Ike, Kenny, Stan, himself… There was nothing that could change the fact that they had all known what the fat-a** was doing to Kyle every day. It was one of those times when hindsight was twenty-twenty; Kyle was already dead.

Filmore kept a tight grip on Ike, running his hands up and down the other’s body; he had no idea he was going to be coming in contact with Ike’s parents, especially since he knew how the Broflovski’s were towards homosexuals, especially after kicking Kyle out because of his relationship with Kenny. Despite the fact that Ike was adopted, there was no doubt in his mind that they would treat Ike the same way, especially since Filmore was a very, very famous porn star. He spoke, his voice soft and uncertain. “Ike… aren’t your parents going to be pissed that I’m ******** you? I mean… they aren’t exactly nice…”

“I wouldn’t say I was abusing it, per se, merely exercising my obvious power over you in ways that are conducive to my own goals.” The blonde smirked lightly, making himself a little more comfortable in Christophe’s lap as his fingers ran up and down the Frenchman’s chest and torso in interest. He loved how Chris felt beneath his fingers, licking his lips absentmindedly as he moved forward, kissing his jaw lightly and leaving butterfly kisses all along the other man’s neck and jaw before reaching his collarbone, smiling softly.

The idea of being in a porno most assuredly turned him on, and the idea of doing it with Christophe was even far more erotic, especially since the other man had become far more adept at the art of love-making in the last ten years. They had been clumsy teenagers all that time ago, and at least Gregory had been entirely unsure of what he was doing with Christophe in bed. The Frenchman had been entirely sure with his movements and Chris had been far more assured in his movements.

Come to think of it, Christophe had always been the one to take charge. Greg set his mouth in a thin line and then leaned up, biting the dark-haired man’s neck rather harshly and murmuring, “I want to top you when we get to America, okay? You have to let me just this once, Christophe.”



[------]


Craig had managed to beat Cartman’s face into a bloody pulp, his own face and fists a mess as he tried to ******** murder the b*****d. It wasn’t just what he had put Kyle through physically or Kenny through mentally, it was for everything Cartman had done to him over the years. The incident in Peru had earned a tooth knocked out. Everything Cartman had done to Tweek had made blood begin to pour from the brunette’s mouth. Thomas’ issue with Chris Hansen had earned him a bloody pulp of a nose. Cartman looked like s**t and Craig hadn’t even started killing him yet. There was a red film over his eyes, a veil of complete and total blind rage, and he wasn’t planning on giving up anytime soon.

Suddenly he was tossed into a snowbank and he was screaming, yelling his fool head off as he shouted and cursed like a ******** at whomever the hell it was who had thrown him off of Cartman. Someone sat on his lap and through the red mist he couldn’t tell who the ******** it was, and that simply made him angrier when it all came down to it. He started shrieking at the person in his lap and continued to do so until he finally realized it was Tweek.

The much smaller blonde vaulted off his lap and Craig lay in the snowbank, bleeding into the white and letting the crimson liquid mix with the ice, lolling his head to the side as he lay there panting heavily, his muscular chest rising and falling as he groaned, the pain beginning to set in. His nose was obviously broken and his fingers on both his hands were scraped to the bone and he was bleeding from his nose, his lips, and his fingers, along with scratches down his arms. Craig also looked quite concussed and he just lay there as the cops came, hefting him up and slapping the handcuffs on him before dragging him towards the ER.

Kenny’s gaze was on Tweek’s back as well, although he was fixated on the hand marks on his hips and thighs. He knew that pain all too well. He knew the desperation that drove a person to prostitution and he knew the feeling of meth more than anything; he had ODed to the point of death once or twice and he knew what it was like to be to the point of selling your body for drugs. He was so caught up in the memories of what he had gone through when he heard Kyle begin to speak and snapped back to reality, keeping his arms around a shaking, sobbing Thomas, who was clinging to him desperately, shuddering like a newborn calf left out in the snow.

Thirty minutes later everyone was checked back into the ER, Tweek and Craig in the same room, the latter handcuffed to a bed, his nose bandaged, his lip stitched, and his knuckles wrapped in bandages yet again. Kenny was sitting at the side of the bed, Thomas still quivering in his lap, the blonde holding onto him and refusing to look at his lover. Craig looked confused and he was as pale as Death, his tattoos standing out in stark contrast to his skin, the hospital gown doing nothing to make him look any more vigorous.

Cartman was somewhere else in the hospital but Kenny wasn’t even thinking about him, instead staring at Craig with horror in his eyes. “Dude… seriously. If I wasn’t your friend, you’d be lookin’ at three, four years in jail. I…” He leaned down, pressing his lips against Craig’s gently, the larger man’s blue eyes softening as Kenny pulled back a little bit, tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Craig. I mean it. I… Seriously. I’m not letting you go to jail; I’m pulling some strings and getting you the ******** out, and anything else you want, you’ve got it.”

Craig nodded before coughing, turning his head to the side so as to not cough on Kenny and instead letting blue eyes fall on Tweek. He frowned and spoke, his voice hoarse after screaming so hard and so long at everything that had come in his way. “… rehab…”

Kenny blinked and leaned back, Thomas clinging to him tightly and starting to sob again. Kenny nodded, glancing over at Kyle before looking back at Craig. “We’ll get Tweek rehab. I promise. We’ll do whatever we can to help you. You’re my friends.”

Thomas threw himself off of Kenny’s lap then, holding onto Craig and hitting him on the chest repeatedly, curling up on his chest and sobbing. “I –********- hate you, you stupid son of a b***h!”

Craig nodded, unable to move because of his handcuffs. “S-sorry… Thomas… I’m sorry… I love you… please… don’t leave me…”

Thomas hit him again lightly and Kenny got up from his seat, walking over to Kyle and sliding an arm around the redhead’s waist, dropping his head onto the other man’s shoulder and holding him tightly. “Jesus, I’m tired, and Kevin is probably flippin’ the ******** out right now, Ky… we have to stick it out until Craig’s at least clear and then we need to go home so I can pass out…”

[TheTweek]

「「 k y l e xxx c h r i s xxx i k e xxx t w e e k 」」 xxx

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A soft noise escaped the black-haired Canadian's throat as his shoulders twitched forward at the fondling of the hand in his shirt. He parted his lips slightly, taking in Filmore's flavour with love as he reached over his shoulder to pull him ever closer by the collar. Pulling away after some time, he bore his dark eyes into Filmore's green ones, before the corners of his mouth perked up a bit into a more honest of smiles. "And no matter how many groupies I invite back to our hotel rooms..." he began, but he grinned after to show he was just teasing and rolled over to bury his face against Filmore's shoulder.

Ike reached away to out his cigarette underneath the seat and throw the butt into the garbage can after spitting on it's tip to make sure he wouldn't be setting the plane ablaze. Maybe a bottle of wine and dinner would make everything better. Okay, so Ike knew he was kidding himself in that aspect, but it was a comfort that he'd be willing to accept at this point, being that what Filmore knew was true. The closer they got to the United States, the more difficult it was becoming for Ike to put up his confident and smiley act, and his smile crippled a bit in the seconds that his forehead rested against his boyfriend's collarbone.

Feeling the muscles in his arms tense as his body threatened to push forth it's inward emotions, Ike's expression fell a bit as he slid his eyes closed, taking a shaky breath through his noise as he pulled himself together best he could. He lifted his arms, sliding them around the American's neck and pulling himself closer to the twenty-six year old and kissing his collarbone. He perked up a bit however at the mention of his parents, and his cheeky little grin returned, nasty as ever.

"Oh, Filmore. That's the best part..." he plotted, staring evilly into his lover's chest before lifting his head to stare up into the other's emeralds mischievously. "They're going to ******** flip. But if they want that promised family retirement fund from my career, they're not allowed to cut ties with me," he said in a sing-song voice. No, seriously, Ike was almost on cloud 9 with excitement at the idea of strolling into his parents' house with Filmore on his arm. He could already see the tightened fury on his greying mother's face and the disbelief in his father's, and he kneaded his hands together with excitement.

"They'll learn. And when they do, they'll..." ... finally give Kyle a break? There was a long pause before Ike sighed and thudded his face against Filmore's again with a whimper. "He wouldn't let me intervene, Fil. He said he wanted to sort it out on his own... he said to just keep sending him post cards so he knew I was doing alright..." his throat tightened as he curled his fingers into the front of his lover's shirt, taking a fetal shape against the other man's chest. "I shouldn't have listened to him... I should have just gotten him out of there..." His voice cracked as a few tears slipped and he sniffed, averting his eyes to the seat cushions pressed to the side of his face.

Christophe had been contently almost half-asleep with his boyfriend - fiance - lover? he didn't even ******** know anymore, but he was happy with Gregory in his arms, and that was his argument sold. He was almost entirely drifted off when abruptly those fatal words invaded his mind, and he jumped up, eyes snapping open and his cigarette toppling from his lips to the floor. He reached down to recollect it before he stared down at the British male in half disbelief, an eyebrow raised indignantly.

"You?" he said in exasperation. Christophe wasn't at all ashamed in the sustaining of the virginity of his behind over the near-thirty years of his existence, mostly because being submissive had never really been something he found himself apt to. He wasn't about to admit all of this, however, staring at Gregory sceptically for a while longer before taking a needed drag on his cigarette and turning his eyes away uncertainly. He wasn't sure what irked him more, the fact that Gregory was proposing or the fact that he knew that he actually looked seriously thrown off about it. "Maybe."

He gave Gregory another even stare before he noticed the twitch of a crying person across their isle, and his eyes fell on Ike with a risen eyebrow. He held Gregory tighter, as though this would remedy everything, before shaking his head in confusion. "What eez ze mattair?"

Ike finally rose his head out of Filmore's grasp, looking at the frenchman and englishman across from them with a broken expression as he wiped his cheeks hastily with the heel of his hands. "You... you don't know?" he asked slowly, and at the shake of Chris' head, he continued tightly. Stan had tried to call them after they'd left for Ireland, it seemed. "Apparently... apparently, yesterday Kyle committed suicide by hanging."

"No focking way. We jus' spoke weez 'im on ze phone two days ago. 'E sounded like 'eez usual peesed off self," Chris said, sitting up straighter with Gregory still held against him, like he might fly away if The Mole let him go. Ike nodded a little bit, sitting up straight in his seat with Filmore still spooned behind him like a boa. "That's why we're going back so early... I'm pretty sure it was a homicide. That ******** b*****d..." he said, seething, obviously talking about Cartman as his hands balled into fists. He nibbled on his wrist anxiously then, looking out the window.

Christophe stared and then looked down at Gregory with a risen eyebrow, seeming kind of stricken. It wasn't surprising, considering he and Kyle had had a friendship going for some time. Had the frenchman not been so impossible to reach he might have spoken to Kyle more, but he rarely heard hide nor hair of him. He was pretty sure they hadn't even spoken in writing for at least three years outside of that phone call, and it was a defeating feeling.


----


Tweek's eyes remained half-lidded as he lay curled in his hospital bed, still in his shoes and Kenny's sweater as he vegetated beneath the covers in silence. He was barely listening to the conversations around him, and was equally doing nothing to hide the purest of miseries fleeting his expression as he opened and closed his hands thoughtfully to give himself some kind of solace in a pattern. His pupils were starting to shrink with the release from his high, and his body was feeling the greater effects as his muscles relaxed and exhaustion set in on his system, motivating him to do nothing but lay there slack-jawed and stare at the ticking of his own rapid-moving heart monitor.

He'd refused to take off his shoes, and had gone so far as to threaten to bite one of the doctors if they touched him, and the main reason to him not falling asleep was so that they didn't try to pull anything funny. It would be over his dead body if Craig went to jail for something so stupid, and if the cops found the knuckles in his sneakers, there would be bigger trouble than Kenny probably could cover all of the way. Tweek only knew all of this for one reason, and that was because, ironically, at one point, he had tried to study to become a narcotics officer.

This plan had been intercepted by Craig and Thomas, of course, not by any kind of demand, but because of their offer, and Tweek had had absolutely no regrets in joining his two lovers instead of running away to police school. The three of them ran the tightest coffee shop in town; even more business came their way than the stupid little Starbucks in the down town strip of their little city, and they took pride in that. Thomas was some kind of miracle baker, Tweek was naturally the god of making caffeinated drinks, and Craig kept everything together and was the financial balance to their very much in-love trio. Nowadays though, their relationship teetered, and where that didn't effect their business, it still affected themselves as well as the comfort of their customers. It wasn't hard to tell when Craig was having a bad day, simply because he looked like he would really kill you for not giving him exact change on that particular day instead of just thinking about it. Tweek spilt more things than usual mostly out of nerves. Thomas barely left the pastry kitchen...

The tension between them had gotten worse and worse, and as Tweek recollected everything, he was starting to find himself more able to put the blame on himself for it. It was those nights that he would get rough with Thomas over something, or snap on Craig over something else. Coming downstairs from their home on top of the coffee shop the morning after didn't allow any of their nerves to simmer any less. Scratching at his arms habitually, he stopped half-way through his itching and tried to hold his hands out in front of him shakily to resist. He felt his insides scraping themselves from hunger, but his nausea was so prominent that he didn't think eating would be a good decision even if he was going to die from not doing so. Eyeing the restored intravenous, in his opposite hand now, he figured that would at least satiate his fluids.

He'd committed so many felonies in the last year alone that reviewing it all distractedly in his hospital bed almost made a small laugh press from him, but he resisted. Theft, armed robbery, soliciting sex, possession of drugs, grand theft auto, too many accounts of aggravated assault, and so many more things that poor Craig and Thomas had no idea about that he'd slid out of like a snake through jell-o. So many things that he knew that they would dump him on his sorry a** for, and so many things that he probably wouldn't ever tell them.

And yet here he was, pawing at the side of his hospital bed absent-mindedly, only wanting more. If just to make him feel better one more time; if just to let him forget the past night's events for a little while, or to make his weakness go away, or to make him feel a bit stronger, or to make him feel like his body wasn't collapsing into itself. He wasn't sure he could sleep if he tried, now that he thought about it. His eyes still vibrated now and then as he sat up slowly finally, pulling his legs up to his chest as he gripped his own feet in silence, glancing around and completely tuning out the outside conversations from that of his own inward ones, until...

"... rehab ..."

Kyle watched as Tweek's head turned, snapping to look at Thomas and Craig, looking panicked and unforgiving. The expression on his face read that getting the blond help was going to be a shitload harder than it had been for Kyle to yank Kenny out of his hole. Kyle didn't have anything to offer to Tweek outside of threats and words, all useless things to an addict. Kenny had needed Kyle physically, and that had helped him. Of course one would have thought Kenny would have come up clean from hell during their drug-days, but the memory of the feeling was as psychologically sticking as a physical addiction to drugs, and Kyle had taken so much time out of his younger years putting Kenny straight. In the end he'd been mostly successful; he didn't know what Kenny had been up to in the last few years.

Inviting said blond into his arms as he walked over at last, he sunk back down into his seat and pulled Kenny down with him, holding the larger male in his lap and pressing his lips to the side of the other man's head calmly. "You can sleep on me if you want until this is cleared up, Kenny... I can wake you up if anyone comes around for questioning," he whispered quietly, running a hand through the blond's hair. Kyle gazed over at Thomas and Craig after a moment sadly, leaning his cheek against the top of Kenny's head tiredly. He could do what he needed to to help cover Craig; he was a news reporter and journalist, after all. He could tweak the facts to his own liking all he wanted to put Craig in the glorifying light, and the town would see it as they heard it and no other way. Selfishly perhaps, he also realized a scoop like this would keep his job, but really, it was for the justice of Craig in the end. To come back to this... family the three had, so broken, was devastating.

Tweek was looking at Craig and Thomas still, looking as sunken and tired as ever. Before the hospital he'd been puttering about on two days of no sleep, and had only just begun to crash when he'd overdosed, and ended up here. He stared at them, looking dazed and dizzy before he slid his legs out from under his covers and tipsily made his way across the room in order to pull himself into bed with Craig shakily, reaching up to tug Thomas in as well and slipping his legs under the covers to curl up against Craig and Thom, knowing he was nearly vibrating from the tweaks and tremors of his withdrawal. With a sick whimper climbing in his throat, he sniffled slightly and held Thomas' hand tightly while he rested his head against Craig's chest, feeling dazed and weak, but painfully unable to sleep, and having nothing to say that could redeem himself at all.

Kyle looked on at them in silence, feeling partially to blame some how as he held Kenny tighter with his eyes averting to the door fearfully, as though Cartman might come barrelling in to finish them off at any second. Sliding his eyes shut completely after a few moments, however, he clung onto Kenny calmly, kissing him repeatedly and then continuing to cradle him lovingly. "I'm sorry... this is really all my fault, I just... I'm sorry. Get some sleep, Ken," he whispered, petting his hand over the other male's eyes to tempt him into the dark and get some rest. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep if he tried at this point, mind too full of thoughts and heart too full of ache over the night's events to concentrate enough on a slumber.
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Filmore immediately knew that the younger man in his arms was starting to break down and he sighed slightly, continuing to hold him close as he listened to Ike speak. Filmore was an only child, but he had liked Kyle a lot and the fact that the redhead had been most assuredly murdered was far too much to bear, especially since he was on no terms whatsoever with his parents. Filmore couldn’t imagine what it would be like if his parents had disowned him simply because he was a porn star. There was also the little fact that he might have knocked one of his peers up during a movie the year before and that he might have to start paying child support soon, and his mother certainly wouldn’t approve of that if she knew. But he knew they’d never disown him. He also knew that if Ike continued to use money as a lever with his parents, he would never be kicked out of the family, either. Ike’s parents were simply too Jewish to pass up the funds that Ike was squirreling away.

Filmore kept his arms around Ike tightly and then, when his lover sat up, pushed himself into a seated position and pulled Ike back into his arms, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back slightly. He held onto his lover tightly, pressing his lips to Ike’s ear and murmuring, “It’s okay if you need to cry. I’m here for you, Ike, baby, you know that.”

He kept his lithe arms around Ike, holding him firmly in his arms as he rested his face on Ike’s shoulder. He knew Kyle hadn’t done it. Sure, he had been told about Kyle’s earlier suicide attempt in passing; he didn’t know why he had done it or what had happened, but Ike had told him he had tried. Filmore felt like Kyle hadn’t killed himself, though. Cartman had always been a total jackass; despite the four year age discrepancy between himself and the lawyer, Cartman had beat up on him as well, mostly because Filmore had been relatively small until he had hit a growth spurt in ninth grade. He had witnessed the older boy’s sadism first hand, and he knew how over the top obsessed the Nazi-esque brunette was with Kyle. It hadn’t made a good combination.

Filmore ran his fingers up and down Ike’s stomach lightly, holding him close and nibbling on his neck with care. “I love you, baby…”

Gregory tensed up immensely when he heard the news of Kyle’s death, staring at Ike for a few moments before turning his gaze to Christophe in horror. He hadn’t seen the redhead in years, but he knew that Cartman was as good for him as Hitler had been for the Jews. How had nobody seen this coming? Gregory automatically knew that Kyle hadn’t killed himself. He looked at Christophe and then put his hands on his lover’s face, kissing him softly on the lips. The blonde rested his forehead again Chris’ and spoke, his voice soft and sure. “I’m sure it’s okay. They’re friends with that devil boy; I’m sure he’s okay, Chris.”

Gregory didn’t like Kyle.

He supposed it was because Kyle had been his only actually real competition for Christophe’s affections. He knew it was stupid, childhood competition, but even when Kyle had hooked up with Kenny, Greg had still been wary of him. He was worried that Christophe could still go after him. But he thought the other was a good person, no matter that Greg hated him, and he knew that Christophe couldn’t be happy at the moment.

He kissed him again lightly and smiled, running his tongue over Chris’ lower lip. “It’ll all work out, love, I promise.”


[------]


Kenny allowed Kyle to pull him into his lap, ignoring Tweek behind him; it was making him think of things he had shoved to the back of his mind, things that he did not want dredged up and stuff that he had tried to keep down. There had been three years of his life that he wanted to forget, from the time he was sixteen until his nineteenth birthday.

The middle McCormick child had started selling himself when he was sixteen, at first for funds for his family. He had found a pimp who had gotten him addicted to about five different drugs and sent him out on the streets. He was a valuable hooker because he could and would do anything for anyone, no matter who they were, and even if he was killed he would just come straight back to life with no problem. He couldn’t kick the drugs, though.

The feeling of heroin, of meth, of crack or any number of drugs racing through his veins and ******** with his head was amazing. There was nothing that could compare to it, and though he hadn’t needed the drugs, he had sure as hell wanted them. His body hadn’t been addicted but his mind had most definitely been, and the rush of drugs was far too great to ignore.

He had all sorts of addictions; there was his dependency on drugs, his need for sex, and a more serious issue. Kenny had been addicted to death. The blonde hadn’t been able to shake it, and he couldn’t remember how many times he had died in Kyle’s arms, whether from self-inflicted wounds or fights or ODing on something. He had been falling apart entirely.

Kyle had pulled him out of his self-inflicted misery and there wasn’t a day where he ever wanted to go back to the live he had been living before Kyle was his lover. He loved the other man; he was always going to love him, and he had given up the drugs and death and sex for a much more simple addiction: his lover. The military had held him together when Kyle had left him, and he had never looked back. The vision of Tweek, broken and bruised and obviously having delved into selling his body for the drugs, yanked all his memories back to the surface and made him hurt. It scared the s**t out him. He was scared for Tweek, and Craig, and Thomas, and he was scared that he had ever done that to Kyle and hadn’t realized what he was doing, and he was terrified that it would make Kyle remember how bad Kenny had been.

He had hit Kyle more than once, flipped out on his best friend for attempting to intervene and beat him up. He shuddered at this memory and tilted Kyle’s face towards him, kissing him softly and lightly on the lips. “I love you, Kyle. I’m so sorry I ever did that to you. I didn’t… I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking back then and I’ve been ignoring it so I never apologized. I’m so, so sorry…”

Craig twitched when Tweek rested against him, looking down at the blonde before tilting his head in the slightest, pressing his lips to the top of the blonde’s head and wishing that he could hold him, help him, try to get him to be okay again. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it. Craig didn’t know what meth addiction looked like but in this skeleton of a man that was his boyfriend he knew he was seeing the worst of it.

The thirty year old tensed against the handcuffs, his muscles tightening up; he was in a passive mood for the moment because he had been shot full of drugs to both subdue him and distract him from the pain in his face and hands. Once he was brought out of the drug-induced calmness he was currently in, he was going to flip out again. At the moment, however, he was just happy he had both his boys and neither of them were dead.

Thomas curled up as well, holding Tweek’s hand back just as tightly and shaking before he leaned over, pressing his lips carefully and gently to his blonde lover’s cheek. He was scared and broken, and he had only ever seen Craig as mad as he had been once before, when a customer had grabbed Tweek’s a** and pushed Craig, who had seen the whole thing, entirely over the edge. It had been at Kenny’s behest that he had avoided assault charges. Craig rarely fought but when he did, the other guy was almost always beaten to a bloody pulp. The coffee shop owner was as muscular as hell and had the temper of a bull; he was relatively passive, just brooding until he was set off by something, and then he was nigh unstoppable.

Craig spoke, looking at Kyle and Kenny. “Am I going to get out of here tonight? We have to open the shop tomorrow. It’s Friday, and that’s our busiest day, and we need the money more than anything, you know…” The dark-haired man was all loopy because of the drugs and he shook his head, licking his lips lightly and looking at his lovers.

Thomas gave him a shaky, broken smile and looked at Tweek before murmuring, “Are you –s**t- okay?”

[TheTweek]

「「 p i p xxx c h r i s xxx i k e xxx k y l e xxx t w e e k xxx s t a n 」」 xxx

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Christophe lounged in silence with his arms still holding Gregory tightly against him, leaning his cheek on the blond's head thoughtfully. He watched with a kind of tug within him as Ike turned, taking the opportunity to roll into Filmore's arms and cry to himself quietly so as not to draw any attention to their little gathering. His eyes hooded from fatigue from the flight, the frenchman sighed vacantly through his nose as he turned his head slightly to instead consult the open sky out the window, but something obstructed his view.

The fighter jet that levelled with the plane outside of the window sent a shock through Christophe's chest like no other, and he visibly flinched as his grip tightened roughly on Gregory to get his attention. Ike's puffing eyes averted from the safety of the crook of Filmore's neck as he wiped away a few more stray tears with an empty sniff, and stared out the window, taking a moment to collect what was going on, before his eyes widened a little.

Before any of them had any particular time to act, a familiar voice sounded on the overspeaker of the plane, causing people to jump slightly from their slumbers, including Christophe's mother, who looked around in groggy annoyance.

"Good morning passengers and thank you for riding with our airlines. I'm Flight Lieutenant Pirrup of the Royal Air Force, and I have a quick announcement to make before your flight lands in approximately an hour and a half. Respectively under the new British Rule, it is a temporary but mandatory procedure for each air craft departing from Europe to be searched and screened carefully in case of an escapee of the justice system has boarded. Passengers are asked to please remain seated during the screening, and to remain quiet and positioned with one's hands in their lap, exposed for inspection. If you are asked by a military official to leave your seat, please oblige, as we likely just have a question for you, and nothing more. Thank you very much for your co-operation, and have a splendid trip!"

The sour expression on Christophe's face only darkened further at the end of the announcement, and Christophe hastily removed the blond from his lap as the doors to the plane's cabin opened and men of uniform came ambling in. Putting on a casual face as he considered their situation, his eyes were most meaningfully peeled, almost fearfully, for the gentleman that had made the announcement.

Pip stepped out of the cockpit finally with the co-pilot at arms, looking absolutely valiant in the enriching features of his uniform, mingling with the sunny gold of his hair as it rivalled Gregory's wig in shimmer, tied with a ribbon for the most part carefully at the centre of his nape. Christophe's eyes turned onto Ike then, and the Canadian shared with him a perplexed expression that suggested they might actually be in some kind of danger. Not so much Ike and Filmore and their lass, but if Gregory and Christophe were recognized by their former classmate, this entire situation could go very bad, and very quickly.

As the officers did their rounds, Christophe placed his hands in his lap properly as the fellow inspecting their little fivesome strolled by to examine them all. Chris took that moment to lean in and kiss Gregory tenderly on the cheek to play whatever old role the man might take the kinder gesture as, being sure to googly-eye Greg as much as possible in order to draw attention away from their faces.

Ike was looking up and about though, trying to take discreet looks at the angelic blond as he strutted down their isle at long last. Ike was starstruck as he stared at the second officer with wide eyes, every bit of him wanting to leap from his seat and take the slender, effeminate lieutenant and force him into signing a contract with him right then and there. Such a thing was not possible, however, with Gregory and Christophe, two highly wanted criminals, sitting across from him. This had to be the most unlucky day of his life, but at least Pip wouldn't be hard to find. The barely-visible bite mark on his just peeping collarbone told Ike that he was still with Damien after all these years, anyway.

The blond stopped, and hesitated at their cubby. Ike's heart stopped as the blond stared at Christophe and Gregory a moment with suspicion, before those painfully sharp grey eyes dipped over in his direction. The lieutenant stared at Ike a moment before a perky smile slipped onto his face in friendly recognition, and the British male patted Ike's cheek fondly before wandering off on his way.

And god damn, did those hips sway.

Ike stared at Filmore, entirely speechless, as though trying to find the words to compromise how the hell that faggoty little blond kid in high school had turned into some kind of effeminate sex kitten war rat in the time that they hadn't seen eachother. Still gaping at his boyfriend, he finally managed to clear his throat. "Fil... Filmore. We have to find him. We have to get his god damned number," he said, practically shaking the pornstar by the collar as he held onto him. "I will have that a** on film if it's the last thing I do. It has to happen. We have to scout him. If we can't get ahold of him next week, I'm calling up that freakyass demon kid to drag him on over."

The ill mood Ike had carried previous was obviously drowned out in his excitement. Christophe watched this with vacant humour before turning his head to kiss Gregory on the mouth warmly, tasting victory.

"We deed eet. Only an 'our and somezing to go," he purred against the ex-commander's lips.


----


Kyle shook his head at Kenny slightly, unwilling to hear any of his apologies as he kissed at him carefully in his chair. "Kenny, it's in the past now. Don't get all strung out over it," he whispered quietly, finally pressing his lips to Kenny's in full and melting against him comfortably. His head turned up to peer at the town-known menage-a-trois curled up together in Craig's hospital bed at the ravenette's question, but before Kenny or Kyle were posed with the opportunity to answer, there was a short but of cursing outside their door before abruptly the door banged open, and a familiar figure thrust himself through the door.

Tweek nearly screamed from being startled so badly, his body visibly getting air off of the mattress as he almost seizured across the bed and into Thomas' arms, where he resolved into a shuddering ball, now carefully sandwiched between the tourettes boy and their beaten-up third party.

Stan stared at the three of them in utter disbelief of their condition, lacing a hand back through his hair and shaking his head slightly. His other one supported the sleeping toddler in his other arm with a cheek pressed against Stan's head, his tuft of black hair trademarking his obvious relation to both Stan and Wendy. Stan's mouth hang as he fought to ask questions, but could find none, instead turning to look at Kenny helplessly.

Then, he spotted Kyle.

It was the black-haired man's turn to make a shrill noise then as Kyle stood, and he made a lunge for the red head in order to pull him into a tight hug, almost choking slightly. "Oh my god! Kyle... Kyle you're alive! Holy s**t... they called me and told me.. I called Ike.. he's on his way here. He's devestated, oh my god. How did... I saw the body, Ky, how are you..."

Kyle held up his hands finally to silence his super best friend, and he cleared his throat, glancing at Craig, Tweek, and Thomas for a brief moment before finally turning to Kenny and leaning forward to kiss him soundly on the mouth. "I'm going to go on a walk with Stan... we'll be back soon. Keep an eye on these guys and talk to the police if they show," he ordered, before pulling Kenny into one last tight hug and then leading Stan out by the wrist to the waiting room and lobby of the hospital.

Stan backed him into a chair in the corner almost immediately, kneeling down to Kyle's level and staring at him. "Kyle... did you really--"

"No.It wasn't me."

Stan stared at him with an empty sigh, taking Kyle carefully by the arms and staring down at the uneven mess of his bruised wrists, scar tissue taking up the majority of their healing state from past suicide attempts. "Kenny still doesn't know about these," he said flatly, more as a comment than a question. Kyle shook his head slowly and tiredly. "Not unless you told him, dude."

Stan nodded at this, seeming satisfied before looking Kyle over again. "What'd he do to you?" Kyle stared up at him uncomfortably at this point before sighing and lifting his head slightly for Stan to get a better view of his neck. The other man made a tight noise in his throat of anger, and stood taller as Kyle averted his eyes in shame. "That son of a b***h... I'll kill him."

"No need to. That's why Craig's in the hospital."

"I thought Craig hated you?"

"Well he must sure as hell like Kenny."

There was a silence between him, before Stan finally turned away, lacing his hands through the other male's hair. He was almost certain he didn't even want the rest of the details, but shaking his head, he rested his face half in his palm.

"Dude, this is really bad. You and Ken. I know you've been wanting to get back with him for a long, long time, but this is a big deal, dude. You know Chris and Greg will be here tomorrow, and what the ******** do you think is going to happen if Kenny finds out they're here?"

"I'll just keep it under wraps, okay? They probably have disguises or something. It'll be fine," he attempted. Stan shook his head and sighed once more. Kyle looked at him for a long moment before frowning. He adjusted his son in his arms carefully a moment, checking to see that he was still sleeping. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Wendy's in a lot of pain. We took her in just to make sure shes' going to be alright... but are you going to be okay, Kyle?"

Kyle stared at him before nodding slowly and trying to force a smile as they started back to the hospital room slowly. "Yeah."

Tweek was gawking at Kenny now, entirely unfocused on Thomas and Craig now that the room was emptier and feeling safer. The blond stared at the other with intensity in his owl-like eye as he scratched at his arms delicately. "Kenny... there's... there's something strange about you. Something different," he said quietly, tilting his head. "You.. oh god, you're glowing... it's super."

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Gregory had always hated Pip’s guts.

The other Englishman made him want to kill people. He was constantly flaunting his body and just acting like a little slut and it absolutely irked Gregory. Whether Pip meant to or not didn’t matter to Gregory in the slightest; he still hated the other more than ******** anything, except for Kyle Broflovski. But Kyle Broflovski wasn’t the person who held their lives in his hands at the moment. Pip Pirrup was, and always would be, Gregory’s least favourite person from now on.

The blonde had to fight with himself, keeping a pleasant smile on his face while not trying to clench his jaw, which would give him away as a man immediately, and grab Christophe’s hand, because that would draw unnecessary attention to the two of them. He fidgeted in the slightest, dropping his eyes demurely and trying to resist the urge to jump to his feet and slam his fist right into Pip’s face like the little slut deserved.

The blonde finally left and Gregory turned his head as well, grabbing Christophe’s face and pulling him closer, kissing him slowly on the lips and shaking his head. “He’s a ******** little slut, Christophe. I hate him so much. God, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.” He stole another kiss and sighed, resting his forehead on Christophe’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around the other’s chest, kissing his collar bone softly and murmuring, “Christophe, I love you so much and I can’t ******** wait until we touch down… Are we getting a hotel for tonight or going straight to Stan’s house?”

Gregory was excited to see Stan. He hadn’t seen him in so long, and Stan had been like his rock, his hard place in a time when Gregory had been falling to pieces. He had been so upset when Christophe left and Stan had helped keep him together afterwards. He had become fast friends with Stan and was super psyched to see him again. He wouldn’t let Christophe know because the other man would invariably get jealous and Greg hated dealing with that.

Filmore was also fixated on Pip, his green eyes wide as he stared after the British male. It was unreal. The man was ******** hot and that a**, those legs, that everything was perfect for porn. Filmore was turning back to his boyfriend when Ike started shaking him, nodding immediately and thinking. He totally wanted to pound someone as gorgeous as Pip.

They had gotten Gregory that day and Aislin the day before and Filmore was aching; although he and Ike had most assuredly ‘auditioned’ the hell out of Aislin the previous night, and Filmore was itching to bury himself in Greg, there was still something about Pip that was so entirely alluring that Filmore couldn’t help but be attracted to the older man.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around Ike and pulling him into his lap before running a hand over Aislin’s thigh lightly. He liked the crossdresser well enough; the Irish man was well-behaved and quiet and didn’t cause any trouble, and Filmore was fond enough of him. He pressed his lips to Filmore’s cheek gently and then leaned over, kissing Aislin on the lips gently before speaking. “We can get him easily. It’s not like that demon man is taking very good care of him if he’s in the war. We’ll get him easy and include him in this next one. Is there room for him?”


[------]


Kenny watched Kyle leave and looked around, sitting on the very edge of Craig’s bed and locking eyes with the one person he could really still call a friend. Craig had always been there for him, since they were teenagers on the rare nights that Kyle wouldn’t let him in the house. They had a sort of symbiotic thing going on; Kenny would get food and a place to stay, Craig would get some sex or some weed or whatever, and they would invariably fall to talking. After Kyle had left him, it had been like that a lot more. Craig had grown up quite a bit; while he had been mildly brooding and threatening in high school, after Kenny had returned from basic training Craig had turned into a ******** street fighter.

The black-haired man’s tattoos were extensive; he had full arm sleeves, random designs and all, but his right arm could all be tied back to Tweek in some way, his left to Thomas. His own name was up the left side of his neck and there was a single ‘K’ on the back of his neck that Kenny hadn’t known about until one of their more recent threesomes. Craig was a loyal enough man, and if he ever slept with someone, he got a tattoo to memorialize the experience on his body. Along with the arm sleeves and the names on his neck, he had angel wings on his back and Tweek’s and Thomas’ names right beneath.

Kenny knew that the tattoos were not there for an aesthetic purpose; the pain caused adrenaline, and Craig was a total sucker for that, which was why he had bulked up and tatted out. Kenny thought it was sad; Tweek got so much s**t for the meth while Craig’s addiction was just as bad and was guaranteed to kill him someday, and yet neither of his boyfriend’s was pissed off at him in the slightest.

Kenny sighed, squeezing Craig’s leg and earning a rather tripped-out smile in return. Tweek spoke then and Kenny looked over at the other blonde, licking his lips and arching an eyebrow. “Huh? I’m glowing?” He blinked and looked down at himself, plucking at his jacket in interest and wondering if maybe he had some radiation poisoning. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He spotted nothing out of the ordinary and proceeded to peel off his jacket, Thomas watching with his arms still around his blonde boyfriend tightly. The Tourette’s boy spoke, his voice soft before he turned Tweek’s face towards him and kissed him lightly before murmuring, “I was so –s**t- scared, Tweek… when you come home I’ll –********- make you some éclairs, okay? You like those, don’t –COCKSUCKER- you?”

Kenny continued to search himself before turning blue eyes onto Tweek and Thomas. Both of them were seething darkness and Kenny stared at the two of them before looking at Craig, discovering he had the same black mist around him. His jaw dropped and he stared at the three of them before looking at himself and blinking when he discovered he was glowing gold. His eyes widened and he stared at Thomas, who blinked and ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Kenny, are you okay?”

Kenny shook himself out of it and gave Thomas a shaky but reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Thomas.”

Damien was bored at s**t. He was getting to the point where he just wanted to murder Pip and keep him down here with him rather than have him up on Earth anymore. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair before turning around, pulling on a pair of tight leather pants, knee-high boots, and a tight black shirt before heading upstairs, ending up in the lobby of the hospital. He walked down the hallway, looking over at the nurse’s station before spotting the retreating figures of Kyle and Stan. He grinned and walked over, grabbing Kyle’s arm and slamming him against the wall, sliding his hands down the redhead’s back and into his pants. “How’s my favourite fresh corpse, hm? That sex earlier was ******** kinky; you and Kenny should totally stop by more often. Pip would love it.”

He bit Kyle’s neck hard enough to draw blood, running his tongue over the wound absent-mindedly and grinning. “I’m totally ******** bored, Red; you should let me ******** you.”

[TheTweek]

「「 p i p xxx c h r i s xxx i k e xxx k y l e xxx t w e e k xxx s t a n 」」 xxx

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Christophe glanced at Gregory, more or less nonchalant to the fact that Pip existed. Sure, Pip hated him - always had, but he never held anything against the stupid Brit mostly because he was a snappable twig in comparison to Christophe, even when they were kids. It was no surprise at all to see Pip in one of the authoritative positions of this war... this extermination, being that the blond had always hated the French from the beginning. The thought made the frenchman scowl, but his thoughts were left behind him as he stared back down at Gregory to hear his question.

"Eet would probably be a bettair idea to get a 'otel fairst and zen see zem fairst zing, mon cher," he murmured against his ear in a quiet undertone, just in case another military officer decided to wander by. He glanced around then wearily, just in case, before sliding an arm around Greg's waist comfortably. "Eet eez almost four in ze morning zere. Zey 'ave a keed," he pointed out.

He didn't know how happy he was to be seeing Stan and Wendy. He had a bit of a streak for Wendy, being that she chased Gregory's a** a while when they were kids. She seemed well-enough with Stan now, though, so he felt a bit less contempt, but his arms still tightened around Gregory's waist gently as he thought about it.

Ike was still seeming tense over the ideal of Pip, kneading his fingers together like some kind of evil genius as he leaned against Filmore thoughtfully. "There is one flight attendant left... and it has to be Pip Pirrup. I can't make this movie without that piece of a**, no one else could play that role." He looked at Aislin, who nodded in seeming agreement. He seemed to have a similar outlook on the situation, though the actor seemed to be seeing it a bit less realistically than the other two, mostly because this was a member of the Royal Airforce that Filmore and Ike were trying to recruit for their little porno.

Eyeing the pretty Irish boy with interest, however, Ike turned and leaned in to give him a deserving kiss on the cheek before he turned and looked at Filmore again, pulling him into a rougher kiss and then drawing away from them both, flexing his fingers excitedly. "Then it's settled. We're getting Pirrup's booty on set if it kills me. We'll get Hillary to make arrangement for contact information after I finish up in South Park," he confirmed with a brisk nod.

There was a crackling over the speaker system again.

"Attention passengers, we are now landing in the Denver International Airport. Please buckle your seat belts. Thank you for riding with British Airways; the aeroplane will be meeting with the platform in approximately five minutes."

Pip licked his lips slightly as he offed the mic, before looking around at the pilots of the plane and then away to the two officers accompanying him in silence. The military would be arriving with the plane closely in order to do one last follow-up screening in private as the passengers exited, just in case. There was a tip to Gregory and Christophe being on this plane, though he hadn't seen them so far. Seeing Ike was kind of a surprise, though; he and Damien had become quick fans of his pornos for their wit and interesting - not to mention good-looking characters. He'd almost tripped over himself when he'd seen Filmore, a popular actor in Ike's films, but he'd managed to keep his composure for the better of his reputation.

Withdrawing his cellular phone from his pocket, he flipped it open in order to send Damien a message, being that he'd forced the demon into getting a cell phone for when he was on earth in order to keep direct contact with him whenever he was on the job. He licked his lips again as he sent the message, before giving one of his officers a curt smile as they took their seats with the plane's descent. I'm landing now. I'll see you in a little while.


----


Tweek's eyes didn't leave Kenny, staring at him with his pupils still rather large despite his dying high. His eyelashes fluttered a moment as he rose his hands, trying to flee from an oncoming wave of nausea as he eased into Thomas' grasp. He kissed the other blond back a bit, even if it didn't carry the same spark it used to, simply not having the energy to be affectionate. He was already getting antsy curled between Thomas and Craig, muscles still twitching involuntarily as his bones began to ache within the marrows from his withdrawal. He slid his eyes shut uncomfortably before he looked back up at Kenny again in a swift gesture.

He craned his neck a bit at the change in the other blond's expression as he laced his fingers with Thomas', using his free hand to itch at his arms to reflect his paranoia as he stared at Kenny uncertainty. It was perhaps a convenience to Tweek that he was unable to see the ominous black glow around himself, Craig and Thomas, otherwise the already constantly tweaking twenty-nine year old would undoubtedly flip a table in panic.

Regardless, he seemed to recognize that Kenny had seen what Tweek was seeing through his dizzy haze. His eyelashes had begun to flutter again as exhaustion bit at his every sense, staring dreamily at Kenny. "Oh God... don't worry, Kenny. You look really pretty..." his eyes slid shut and he curled up slowly closer to Thom, wrapping his arms and legs around him from under the covers as he kissed at his neck and shoulders lovingly, apologizing every few moments for a twitch or tremor. He glanced up at the mention of éclairs hazily, touching the intravenous on top of his hand wearily as he rolled slightly to sweep his hand over Craig's stomach.

"I... I love them. You make the best ones Thomas. Oh God, if I could make stuff like you..." his eyes flitted about the room a moment as he lost focus before he blinked them shut and squeezed, trying to keep his head in place. Shadows were playing tricks and the fluorescent lighting wasn't helping his cause any. He opened his eyes again to look dreamily at Kenny, wondering if maybe it was just an illusion. It was nice to watch though, and he licked his lips nervously, imagining the vibrancy they'd have on drugs. Immediately guilt washed through him at the thought, but the growing pain from the draining drugs from his system felt way worse.

"Make it stop..."

The mutter was quiet and pained as he grabbed his arms, trying to massage them, but the pain in them wouldn't let up. This was impossible. He couldn't take this. Curling up into a ball on his side he rolled over to squeeze under Craig's arm, burying his face against the male's broad chest with a noise implying his discomfort as he wrapped an arm around him.

Stan's eyes widened as Kyle was ripped away form his side, his grip tightening on his kid as he held the child close to him protectively. Kyle flinched with a sharp breath as he was slammed back against the wall, shoulders riding up at the invasion of his personal space as Stan looked between them in an obvious panic, unsure what to do without putting his son in possible danger.

With Damien's words, however, Stan's expression darkened and he looked on at Kyle furiously. "Kyle... you didn't," he hissed, and Kyle just stared at him helplessly as he attempted to push Damien off of him roughly, gritting his teeth.

"Stan, look, I'll explain-- OW!" he cussed loudly, hand snapping to his neck at the bite mark left behind by the demon as he kicked at him more roughly, managing to vault the ravenette off and staggering a few feet backwards down the hall and back to Stan's side.

"Get the hell out of here Damien, I'm not interested," he growled darkly with his hand clasped to his neck. s**t, it burned, more than the average bite as a brief dizziness coursed through him, but it passed quickly and he straightened, taking a hold of Stan's arm carefully for good measure. Stan looked at him with anger still burning behind the hypnotic blue eyes that seemed to be an eerie trademark of their town, stroking Michael's hair. Kyle glanced at the kid a moment and couldn't help but smile wryly. The kid was a freakin' trooper for being able to sleep through these various fights.

Turning back to Damien, however, his glare returned, cheeks flushed from the other's implications. "Go to hell, Damien. Literally. I don't want to see you unless I absolutely have to," he grumbled, touching his body self-consciously before dragging Stan off down the hall and entering the hospital room again with his hand still gripped to his throat. He stared between the three blonds and the one black-haired boy a moment before his fixed his eyes on Kenny as the door shut quietly behind him.

Tweek seemed to have finally passed out, his body actually still now that he was for the most part unconscious. Kyle was kind of impressed, having never seen the blond maintain the same position for more than five seconds before, as he slowly reached Kenny and slid his arms around his shoulders comfortably.

Stan frowned, looking between the others and adjusting Michael in his arms slightly. The kid muttered in his sleep before sneezing and going quiet again, and Stan looked at him, before at Kenny, Kyle, Craig and Thom.

"So is anyone going to actually explain to me what the hell happened here?" he whispered sternly, looking displeased as he eyed the vital equipment judging Tweek and Craig's health in silence, before back at the three who weren't presently patients in the hospital.

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Gregory flicked his blue eyes over his lover, biting his lip and then leaning into him slightly, closing his eyes as he rested against Christophe. For all his bitching and whining and all around stand-offish attitude, he was happy. He loved Chris more than anything, and every little touch simply amplified that and pointed towards the fact that the Frenchman most assuredly felt the same way about him. He nuzzled against his companion lovingly, stopping to entwine their fingers together and kiss Chris slowly. When he spoke, his voice was content and low, containing vague undertones of complete and total love. “I love you, Chris… More than anything… I swear I’d die for you.”

He curled up against the other’s side and to anyone who didn’t know they looked like the perfect couple, despite the ‘obvious age gap’ they had. He had never felt more at ease than he was at the moment, despite the danger they were in if someone in South Park recognized them. Pip was a bloody idiot, and Gregory knew that, and it was easy to overlook him. However, there was still Kenny McCormick to trifle with, and while the lieutenant colonel was nowhere near the smartest man on the planet, he was certainly intelligent enough to be in the position he was in now. Kenny wasn’t booksmart but he was sure as ******** streetsmart and that was the really scary thing. Kenny had some bizarre connections; he was friends with the head of the Denver Mafia, had ties to countless street gangs thanks to Craig, and unbeknownst to any of them, aside from Damien, had quite the army amassed over the years of his death.

Filmore looked over at the cuddling couple across the aisle from them and felt a jolt of jealousy, shifting a little and wrapping his arms around Ike further, pressing his face into the side of his lover’s neck and breathing deep. God knew he wanted to have a normal relationship with his lover. What they had now was more like a steady friendship with benefits; they ******** around with other people then came home and ******** each other and that was it. He wouldn’t have had a problem with it if they spent time together as a couple, but they never did.

He sighed and shrugged, staying in his seat with his arm around Ike as they buckled up. Once the plane had landed safely, the six of them, Christophe’s mother added to the fray now, made their way off and went through the private screenings, somehow managing to get through, which irked Greg to no end. He may have been the convict in question, but had he been in charge of the investigation, Christophe and himself would have never made it out of Europe.

They got through easily and then left the terminal, heading to the car rental counter and getting a car that would fit all of them. Filmore got in the driver’s side and waited for everyone and their luggage to get in before starting the engine and driving to one of the hotels in town, heading inside and booking two of them under his name before coming back out and gesturing to the people in the car. They got out, grabbed the luggage, and headed to their rooms; Ike, Filmore and Aislin were in one two bedroom room and Greg, Chris, and Christophe’s mother in the other.

Once they split up they fell into their nightly routines, Filmore stripping down to his briefs and sliding into bed, yanking Ike down beside him and falling asleep soon afterwards, his arm tight around the other’s waist. Gregory stripped out of the sundress, eyeing himself in the bathroom mirror and checking out how he looked. He was pale and stressed looking, and as he ran a hand through his hair some fell out in his hand and he sighed.

The thirty year old dressed in a pair of sweats and walked over to Christophe, curling up on the bed and looking at his lover. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. We had a long day and we need to go visit the Marsh’s tomorrow and get ready for Kyle’s funeral.”

Gregory was asleep moments after Chris had gotten into bed, curled up and holding onto his lover tightly as he drifted off, content.


[------]


With his cuddle buddy now safely curled against Craig’s chest, Thomas sat up, hugging his legs to his chest and holding onto them as he buried his face against his knees, his whole body racking with sobs as he simply broke down, unable to cope with what had happened any longer. He was trying to be strong for his lovers but he simply wasn’t able to. He started sobbing and Kenny, who had turned to hug Kyle, gave his lover a plaintive look and then pulled out of the embrace, moving to the chair at the side of the bed and lifting Thomas, setting him in his lap and holding onto him.

Thomas turned his head, burying his face in Kenny’s neck and holding onto him, his whole body racked with sobs as he clung to the blonde. Craig turned his head, watching the two of them, and after simply watching for a good little while spoke, his voice tense and upset. “Thomas, please don’t cry. We’ll go home and this will be like it never ******** happened and it’ll be okay, all right? We’ll be okay.”

Thomas stood up so quickly he knocked the chair with Kenny in it over, the blonde tipping over backwards and hitting the ground with a thud. Thomas whirled around, staring at his dark-haired lover on the hospital bed before starting to yell, his voice shrill and upset. “This is partially YOUR fault, Craig! ********! YOU should have –BALLS- been there for him! I couldn’t do –s**t- everything on my own you –********- ******** b***h!”

The blonde stormed out of the room then, slamming the door behind him and leaving a stunned silence in his wake. Kenny righted himself and looked at Craig, who looked entirely stunned by his lover’s outburst before he squeezed his eyes shut and tried blocking out what had just happened. Kenny set the chair upright and stood before grabbing Kyle’s hand and Stan’s shoulder, guiding them out of the room and into the hallway, where Damien was checking his text messages, looking pleased.

Kenny stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to explain what had happened when he actually really looked at Kyle. His jaw dropped immediately. His boyfriend was surrounded in that same black mist that the town-known threesome had been, and Kenny knew somehow that it was not a good mist. It didn’t mean anything good. He didn’t want it around Kyle. Of course, he couldn’t just say that because he’d look utterly insane, and that was so not what he wanted.

So he swallowed down what he was going to say and instead focused his attention on Stan, biting his lip before opening his mouth to speak. “Tweek ODed on meth and ended up here, and Craig got ******** pissed so he beat the s**t out of Cartman. So now they’re both in the hospital. That’s pretty much it.”

“You forgot the whole part where you let Cartman kill Kyle and then almost sold your big brother’s soul to me to get him back. Oh, and the part where Pip and me ******** his lights out while you watched. Um, what else am I forgetting? Oh, right, when…”

Kenny turned a withering gaze onto the demon, clenching his jaw and speaking softly. “Don’t you have people to torture and babies to mutilate or something like that, Damien? Why the [********] do you hang around me so much if you hate me so goddamn much?”

Damien cocked an eyebrow and then pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up with a flick of his finger and taking a puff, obviously not caring where he was at the moment. He looked around for a moment and then walked over, leaning up so his mouth was next to Kenny’s ear and murmuring, “Because you’re ******** important, got it? Don’t ******** question it next time, ‘kay, McCormick?”

He took a step back and then smirked. “All right, I’ve got to go pick Pip up from the ******** airport, catch you ******** later.” There was a fountain of flames and then Damien was gone, leaving them alone in the hallway.

Kenny huffed and then looked between Kyle and Stan, shrugging slightly before he looped his fingers with his boyfriend’s and pulled Kyle closer, kissing him lightly on the cheek before sighing. “You think I should call Kevin or no? I don’t think he’s awake.”