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South Park
The Final Plunge
Prompt #03, "The Final Plunge / Commitment"
PG (language)
472 words
Approx Age: 15

Summary: Stan's relationship with Wendy is getting more serious, and Kyle isn't happy.



The Final Plunge

The sounds coming from inside the stall were new levels of fucked up, but at least Stan’d made it to the bathroom that time rather than just opening his mouth and puking where he stood. On this and more, Kyle reflected as he leant against the divider between stalls, sneaking a glance through the crack in the door. The other topics that played through his mind made him slightly less mirthful, so he concentrated on the unappealing but still humorous exploits of his friend’s weak stomach.

“Fuck you,” Stan told him as he pushed the stall open; the door swung through the air where Kyle’s head had been only moments before. “How’sa ‘bout some fucking privacy?” Kyle held back his laughter, trying to appear appropriately repentant. Thin reflex tears dripped down Stan’s cheeks and he sniffed to keep his nose from running; he looked adorable, in a sort of “wash up before you come near me” way.

“Honestly, I feel violated for hearing it,” Kyle retorted, darting away before Stan could push him aside. “I think they heard that all in Nebraska.”

At the sinks, Stan scrubbed his face with a damp paper towel; it further reddened the skin of his cheeks and he moaned pitifully at his reflection.

“Do I look as horrible as it looks like I look?”

Kyle hopped up on the counter, his back to the wall, and studied Stan while Stan studied his reflection. “Yes.”

Another frantic groan.

“Give it a minute for your face to de-puff.”

“I can’t ask her looking like this.”

“Hey,” Kyle said firmly, twisting himself around to adjust his hat in the mirror. “Dude, you didn’t throw up on her. Just keep reminding yourself of that.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Stan whined. “I shouldn’t be throwing up about her at all. It’s just… this is such a huge step in our relationship.”

The jealousy that had been overpowered by amusement on the battlefield of Kyle’s brain suddenly made a resurgence, and he was quick to disagree. “It’s not that big.”

Stan had been fixing his hair with his fingers and he stopped to critique his work. “It is to me.”

“It’s nothing to get worked up over,” Kyle scolded him, although his own mood was rapidly souring at the thought.

“Well… then fuck you,” Stan told him again, casually, and went back to his hair.

“Fuck you too,” Kyle replied, and didn’t really mean it, of course─ but still meant it a little more than Stan probably had. “It’s not like you’re asking her to marry you. For Chrissakes.” He huffed, slumping back against the wall. “You’re only asking her to be your lab partner.”

A dopey, nervous grin served as Stan’s reply, and now Kyle thought, for just a fraction of a second, that he might be sick as well.