Chapter Text
The farm is great. Even Stan's ever-disgruntled face doesn't ruin anything.
You can get Stan though, he barely can stand it here, he hates the farm with all his heart.
Kenny, on the other hand, loves it.
The plantations are gorgeous, the tastings are amazing. The smell of cannabis in the air is nice, and the wide sky overhead is fabulous.
Stan's dad is never stingy with presentations of new strains, and there's always a chance to snag a hemp T-shirt or bag as a gift. Or even a hat.
The hemp hat suits Stan a lot, and Kenny often tries to put it on his head, but Stan usually grimaces, dodges, and hurriedly pulls it off.
Kenny chuckles back. Too bad he doesn't like the hat. And too bad he doesn't like the farm either. And too bad that... well, never mind. These "too bad"s don't get you anywhere, right?
Hanging out with Stan at the farm, staying overnight at his place, is really great: they play death metal loudly in the barn, Kenny can help himself to farm goods at any time, and Stan's mom bakes the tastiest pies.
Walking around the farm among the fields like this is one of the favorite things in Kenny's life.
Kenny pulls down his hood, shakes his long strands, inhales deeply, enjoying the moment. The hair has grown decently, and Stan notices it.
"You should get a haircut," he says and holds out his hand. The hair feels soft and silky, like a girl's.
"Yeah, Ca..." Kenny stops short.
Cartman promised to cut it.
Why did he stop? There's absolutely no unspoken rule about not mentioning the guys, but Kenny's not talking about the others more and more. Apparently, he's unconsciously cutting ties himself.
It is simply silly after all.
Kenny chuckles, pretending to be tickled by Stan's hand near his ear and that that was the reason why he interrupted his sentence.
"Yeah, Cartman promised to cut my hair."
Stan's hand moves back. Kenny wiggles his shoulder. For a moment he wants to throw the hood back on, but instead Kenny puts on the hemp hat. He pokes his finger at Stan's phone, making a hint.
Kenny poses, looking softly from under lowered lashes.
"Really?" Stan takes a few shots. "He's going to lop all your hair off."
Kenny feigns surprise at the camera. Stan smiles at the corner of his lips and takes a shot again.
"Damn it, Stanley, you're right. Cartman will maim me, and I'll never get to be the face of Tegridy Farm."
"Were you going to be?" Stan kneels down, changing the camera angle.
"Well, your father and Towelie suggested it once," Kenny defiantly tosses the hat aside, fixing his hair.
"They must've been high as fuck."
"Hey," Kenny laughs. "You wanna say that the only way to recognize my beauty is to smoke a fat-ass joint first?"
Kenny chuckles, with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Stan takes another shot and, putting the phone away, simply answers:
"No."
And he looks up at Kenny openly and sincerely.
Stan hates the farm and his father, you can always find unfinished bottles of Jamison in his room, he is slowly crusting over with the detachment from the world, but he is always happy to see Kenny. That happiness splashes at the bottom of his blue eyes.
Kenny gently responds to his gaze, smiles back. And holds back something inappropriate and nasty:
Don't worry, Stanley. Eric is good with his hands.
The sun sets over the horizon, Stan walks ahead of Kenny and the last red rays stain his white T-shirt pink. Stan touches the marijuana bushes, the leaves flap softly against his palm.
Stan turns slightly, about to ask something, and looks so beautiful in the sunset light, so sad and happy, that Kenny pushes him into the bushes before Stan could open his mouth.
When it was their first time, Kenny pushed him into the bushes the same way, getting on top of Stan and whispering briefly:
"I missed you."
...all of you.
Stan nodded then, silently touching his lips.
And he remains silent now as Kenny nimbly gets on top of Stan's thighs. Kenny pulls off the hemp hat and puts it on Stan.
Stan waves his head, resisting, and so Kenny leans over, bites him lightly on the nose, then exhales into his mouth:
"It suits you so much, Stanley."
Stan gives in, leaning forward and catching Kenny's lips. The kiss is lingering and moist.
The scent of cannabis clouds his mind, and Kenny runs his tongue down Stan's neck, burying his nose in the hollow of Stan's collarbone. Kenny kisses him there, pulls back the collar of Stan's T-shirt: there's a blue hickey from last week on his skin. Kenny licks the old mark and digs into his neck with a kiss. He pinches the skin with his teeth and licks a fresh red mark.
Stan breathes heavily, with his eyes closed. Kenny burrows his hands under Stan's T-shirt, pulling it up: Stan obediently wriggles out of it and pulls the zipper on Kenny's parka himself. Under the parka he finds a Tegridy Farm hemp T-shirt, and Stan wrinkles for a second, grabbing the ends of the T-shirt so he can pull it off.
But Kenny stops his hands, pushes him in the chest with his palm, forcing him to lean back.
That's enough, Stan. It's time to accept the reality.
Kenny runs his palms over Stan's bare torso, leans in to kiss him and lick every inch of his skin while Stan breathes so hard, while Stan barely moans in response to each movement of his tongue.
Kenny licks and bites randomly, leaving hickeys, soft bites, marks.
This is a keepsake for you, Stanley.
His hot mouth goes down to Stan's belt buckle, and Stan automatically thrusts his hips forward. Kenny confidently places his hands on Stan's hips, pinning them to the ground, unbuckles his belt, then his fly.
Stan is amazingly hot and wet, his lube smudges Kenny's cheek. Kenny licks the length of his cock, takes it into his mouth - Stan exhales sharply and throws his head back; the hemp hat slips over his eyes.
Kenny picks up the pace, and Stan thrusts his hips forward, sliding his palms over the length of Kenny's arms, the neck, the jaw; Stan puts his hand on Kenny's head for a moment and, having felt the softness of Kenny's hair, immediately pulls it back.
Kenny lets go Stan's cock from his mouth, catches Stan's yanked hand, kisses his palm, sucks his fingers in. Kenny moves up higher, pulls down the hat that has fallen over Stan's eyes, looks him in the eye, touches his cock.
The reality, Stanley.
Kenny hastily unzips his pants and puts Stan's hand on his groin. Stan wraps his arm around Kenny's cock and begins to move. After a few moves they find a rhythm; the T-shirt is nicely crumpled on Kenny's body, the smell of the heated bodies clogs the nostrils, pushing the smell of freshly grown marijuana away.
Stan cums first; he closes his eyes, bites his lip. His cum gets on the hemp T-shirt he hates so much, and Kenny cums next.
The fresh droplets on Stan's flushed skin look especially adorable, and before Stan could realize anything, Kenny jerkily pulls the phone out of Stan's unbuttoned pants pocket and takes a couple of shots.
"These are my favorite shots today," Kenny shows the screen. "And this is my favorite T-shirt now."
Stan pulls the hemp hat over his eyes and smiles. There's a blush on his cheeks.