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“Stan.”
“What?”
“Stan.”
“Come on.”
Kyle shifts in his seat. “You really have to stop braking for squirrels so much, dude. It’s going to slow us down.”
They were barely an hour into their road trip to California, but after having to take so much time to pick everyone up, the boys were all feeling a bit antsy - having to make sure all their bags were in order, and of course having to then wait an extra twenty minutes for Cartman because it was absolutely necessary, if not crucial, that they stop on the way out of town for his breakfast to-go. The highway and longer stretches of road were still quite some ways away from the confines of their small mountain town. Though the forest-lined, rural side roads were quaint and part of what they looked forward to, it was still far from being the sunny American West, the open roadways highlighted by good music blaring from the car speakers: the idyllic image of their big, first post high school trip that they had spent at least a solid week planning out.
And barely 30 MPH just did not fit into that ideal picture.
Lurching forward, Cartman put his hands on the shoulders of the driver’s seat where Stan sat. “You’re like my asshole,” he started, before aggressively shaking the seat. “Always holding up SHIT. NOW PUNCH IT ALREADY!”
“We’re not even halfway there and you guys are giving me shit about my driving,” Stan lamented, still patiently gripping the wheel with both hands and keeping focused on the road. “’Breaking my balls.”
“Would you stop and put a seat belt on? Christ…” Kyle shot behind them at their indignantly sighing friend before looking to Stan. “We did leave later than anticipated. I just don’t want it to be way more than a 15 hour drive. That’d cut into our spending money, you know?”
“Yeah,” Stan huffed in understanding. “It’s just my mom’s car, yanno. We’ll be on a highway soon.”
“Doesn’t mean you need to drive like a mom, Stan,” Cartman goaded, his animated, impatient movements and breakfast debris invading Kenny’s space beside him on the backseat. “Next stop I’m going to drive.”
“You are not,” Kyle said flatly.
“Then we’ll make a bet! At the—”
“No bets! This is Stan’s car and he’ll drive there. We decided.” Kyle retorts with more finality, enforcing their previously discussed plan, of which was the three of them, excluding Cartman, agreeing that Stan would do most if not all the driving.
Cartman grumbles and sits back heavily again. It was then that Kyle peered up at Kenny in the rearview mirror, who was quietly sitting behind him the whole time. He hears Cartman commenting about how sweaty Kenny looks and catches him give a less than enthralled side glance in response to the teasing. Kyle found the subtle expression funny, and it made him feel a little less annoyed about their more obnoxious passenger.
The trip finally feels in motion as they continue the drive and make headway out of the woodsy perimeters of their county and onto the real route to Cali. Stan lets all the windows down at least a quarter of the way, wind flowing through the car and naturally relieving some of the summer sun’s heat. Cartman goes on for a while about how they should totally stop in Las Vegas for the night before officially making it to California, because Kyle’s idea of heading straight there and simply sleeping at a hotel was “totally lame” and not fun. After letting him know it would be over his dead body that he would go to Vegas with him, Kyle wonders if Cartman really had an understanding of what a road trip was about, or if Cartman, and all of his tunnel vision tendencies, simply forgot that relaxing and heading to the beaches was half the reason they started planning the trip. Eventually they finally play a chosen playlist over the speakers, and luckily the music was something they could unanimously agree on.
Some hours and a couple collective jam sessions later, it was time to pull over for a break and some gas. Stan gets off the road and pulls into a moderately busy gas station not far off from the highway, parking by a pump that was close to the front door. After putting in some gas to allow them to make it the rest of the way there, he leans over and peers in at them through his open window. “You guys want anything? We’ll probably rest here a while.”
“Thank god,” Cartman says with an exaggeratedly strained breath, grabbing at the handle of his door. “That breakfast burrito is starting to run through me. Ugh.”
“Uh, yeah, could you grab me a bottle of water or something?” Kyle requests as he relieves himself of his seat belt. “Or a Snapple.”
“Okay. You want something, Ken?” Stan shoots behind Kyle, brushing his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.
“I’m good, dude,” Kenny answers with a wave. He was up against the door to catch whatever breeze he could from the window. The sun made everything feel a little hotter than it really was, and he had gotten the brunt of it on his right side from their west-bound trip so far.
Quietness follows as Stan and Cartman head into the gas station, Cartman hurrying ahead and pushing someone out of the way as his desperation for the bathroom seems to multiply with each step he takes. No sooner does Kyle finish shaking his head does he feel a ghostly touch on his cheek and a subtle shift in the air, finding Kenny was poking his head over Kyle’s left shoulder and had, in fact, just barely brushed his mouth to Kyle’s skin.
“Hey – you almost scared the shit out of me,” Kyle said, edging away from the other with a breathy, awkward laugh. Kenny seems more pleased about it than anything, as he lazily rests his temple against the fabric of Kyle’s chair, donning a grin. With a glance at the tinted front windows of the gas station for any sign of their companions, Kyle goes on with cautious warning he’s definitely said before, “Careful, Stan will be back in a few.”
"Yeah.” Kenny raises a brow, sharp blue eyes gazing at Kyle from an angle. “I thought you were going to do that yesterday?”
“I was… but it got late and a good chance didn’t come up. I wanted to bring it up at the right moment.”
"What — it ain’t a fuckin’ proposal Kyle.” Kenny straightens up, sitting on the centermost edge of the backseat. “Just be like, Kenny? Yeah I’m hitting that.”
"Ha. No.”
“’Been on like two dates now.”
“Three.”
“I thought you didn’t consider last Friday an official one?"
“Well… we were together awhile right? So. Technically?” Kyle turned his head to Kenny, who gave him a mischievous look before then defaulting to an accepting shrug, resting his elbows back on his knees.
Giving a tug at the fabric of his t-shirt to try and help feel cooler, Kenny emits a humored chuckle in spite of them. “What about Taco Bell Deluxe himself?” he asks, of course referring to Cartman.
To that Kyle gives a curt scoff. “I don’t even care how he finds out long as it isn’t before Stan,” he says.
After watching the door of the gas station for a moment, Kyle twists himself more toward left edge of his seat to address Kenny directly, eyeing the other’s tanned completion and noticing the dampness of sweat around the short golden hair of his neck. “You do look hot back there,” he points out then.
“Oh thanks, you’re lookin’ pretty hot yourself.”
“No,” Kyle shook his head, though he still begrudgingly cracked a smile at the smartass compliment. Reaching over, he brushed some of Kenny’s messy bangs away from his brow. “You’re already sweating a lot, and we’re not even close to Nevada yet.”
“Yeah, well, I’m always sweatin’ it up in the summer.” Kenny’s tone of voice turns all mellow at the bit of attention he was getting, gravitating closer to Kyle’s hand. “Plus, I’m sitting here thinkin’ all about that last Friday now, and I’m like, damn...”
Kyle made a face, so Kenny went on to assure him more seriously, giving a little smile. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
Again, Kyle makes a quick check of the station’s entryway, only seeing other various patrons coming in and out. Assuming there was still at least a line holding them up, Kyle relented, deciding to make use of their continued waiting and giving Kenny a brief kiss to his forehead, but he should have known that giving Kenny a taste was similar to diving straight in, because hardly after his lips parted from Kenny’s sticky, warm skin did Kenny catch him with an actual kiss. It was difficult not to sink right into it after that, so of course Kyle found himself sharing not one but continuous quick, lingering kisses, brushing and reconnecting in a familiar steady pace that swayed between shy and desperate.
In all his eager glory, Kenny slid off the edge of the seat, kneeling on the floor to lean over the median between the two front seats to drink in all that he could. As though he had been waiting for it, he met Kyle firmly, like Kyle was more refreshing than rolling down all the windows, as if ironically his lips were just what Kenny really needed to cool off. Kenny had hardly any qualms when they were alone. That’s what Kyle liked about him; there was not much to think about because Kenny was straightforward, and passionate, often if not all the time. A sort of blissful, carefree freedom behind unrestrained kisses, private but aching to be explored. So, Kyle let go and forgot for a moment, thusly resting his hand on the other’s heated neck to dip his toes into that sweet pool of abandon just like last that Friday Kenny had so fondly teased about.
It’s not for long though, because the distant sounds of passing vehicles are abruptly cut into by what Kyle knew was the unmistakable sound of a sweaty hand sliding down the glass of the passenger window.
Kyle quickly turns to find Cartman’s large face pressed up against the glass, gawking at them with his other hand occupied by a very large bottle of infamous, green soda.
“Oh. My. God,” was the muffled and incredulous response they both anticipated.
“For fuck’s sake,” Kyle groaned in his dismay and hastily lowered his window. “Look don’t even say –”
“You guys?! With Kinny?” Cartman exclaims like he’s both equally baffled and delighted, as if he’s just found the juiciest gossip worthy of years of blackmail.
“Don’t – I swear to god Cartman,” Kyle says sternly, desperately hoping this doesn’t turn out to be some kind of embarrassing nightmare. The last thing he wanted was Stan to find out by accident, but this was potentially far, far worse. And more annoying.
Kenny wasn’t holding his breath for anything, though. His unsurprised reaction to Cartman’s dramatization was telling of that.
“I mean – psh,” Cartman went on smugly, catching on that he definitely just came across something he wasn’t supposed to, preparing to rub it in and run with it for all it was worth. “Come on Kyle, I know it’s been awhile since you had a decent girlfriend, but Kenny? Did he serenade you with a six-pack and a night at Applebee’s? Ahaha –”
Stan finally came out of the busy highway gas station, carrying a plastic bag of some drinks and holding a few choice snacks for his friends in his arm. Squinting against the sun, he stopped in confusion only after a few steps when he came across the scene of what seemed to be a very agitated Kyle attempting to roll up his window directly on Cartman’s neck, with Cartman yelling and struggling away. Kenny spotted Stan and simply happily waved at him from the back, beaming with the most merry and feigned innocence expression only Kenny could muster.
It was hard to say what he was expecting out of being all stuck together in a car for about 15 hours, but all Stan could think in that moment was that it was definitely going to be a long… long drive.