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It was stupid to even come here with the girls. Honestly, Stan had no idea what he’d been thinking when he agreed to this. Or what Wendy had been expecting when she asked him to do it. Maybe Wendy thought it would reignite their relationship or something– but it was having the opposite effect. So here they were, trapped at some bar a few shitty towns over from their shitty town, having a weird approximation of a double date with Kyle and Bebe. Despite the fact that Kyle and Bebe historically didn’t click, Wendy had thought it would go well anyways, and technically, it was going well– for Kyle and Bebe –Stan wasn’t having a good time at all.
He stood at the bar, stewing as Wendy played pool with some random guys they’d just met, probably trying to piss Stan off enough to get a reaction out of him. Kyle was doing the same thing– trying to piss Stan off to get a reaction –he had to be, cause why else would he actually be flirting with Bebe. The last time Stan had checked, Kyle didn’t even like girls. Not that he wasn’t allowed to like girls, but seeing him get with one now pissed Stan off like he’d been lied to because what the hell?
He knew he was supposed to be annoyed at Wendy for totally snubbing him to play pool with those guys, but he really didn’t mind her absence that much right now; because instead of starring daggers at the pool table like he should’ve been, Stan couldn’t tear his eyes away from fucking Kyle and Bebe. The two of them didn’t even look good together. For starters, they both had naturally curly hair– which was like, basically incest.
The off-putting duo was posted up next to a high top table across from the bar and perfectly in Stan’s line of sight, if he chose to look that way (and how could he not – it was like rubber necking a car crash). Kyle and Bebe weren’t even sitting, they were just standing next to the table and occasionally sipping their drinks. Kyle was leaning against the wall and Bebe was crowded up next to him, yapping to him about god knows what, their faces too close together to be entirely platonic. Kyle could probably taste the green tea shots on her breath and smell the trashy floral perfume on her neck and feel her hair against–
“–an. Stan.” Stan glanced next to him– when had Wendy gotten there?
He looked back over at the pool table and the guys Wendy had been hanging out with had dispersed. Oh. Guess he hadn’t noticed them finishing the game.
“What’s up?” Stan answered, snapping back to reality. Wendy sighed.
“I said, do you want another drink?”
“Oh. Sure. Just get two of whatever you’re having.”
Bebe’s hand was on Kyle’s arm– no doubt feeling his muscles –oh god and now she was stroking his arm. Did her creepy sharp-ass nails actually feel good on Kyle’s skin? Stan looked down at his own stubby fingernails. Suddenly a drink was being shoved in his hand. It seemed… fruity– a tall skinny glass filled with orange and red liquid. Stan eyed it skeptically.
“It’s a tequila sunrise.” Wendy informed him, an identical drink in her hand.
“Oh.” Stan stirred it with his straw and glanced across the room. For a brief moment, he and Kyle locked eyes, and a spark of rage flared in Stan’s chest because Kyle should be over here talking to him. Them. Whatever. It was just fucking rude.
He made sure Kyle was still looking when he leaned down and gave Wendy a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the drink, babe.” See. He could get with a girl too.
Stan spared another glance at Kyle. He looked annoyed. Good.
Kyle turned his attention back to Bebe and wrapped an arm around her waist, which was met with more giggles and goddamn whispering.
Stan wasn’t sure why or how this had turned into some sort of contest, but it started when Bebe got Kyle alone out on the other side of the bar, too far away from Stan. Stan had shot him a look that said Come back! Save me from dealing with Wendy! But instead of doing that, Kyle had doubled down on flirting with Bebe, basically abandoning Stan and replacing him with Bebe– in a sense.
Stan seethed while he sipped his drink and watched the two of them. The drink actually tasted pretty good, but there was no way it would get him as fucked up as he preferred to be. Wendy was talking about… uh, something, and Stan gave her perfunctory responses while glowering at Kyle and Bebe. He didn’t even really notice he’d been drinking until he started slurping air. Wendy still had over half of her drink left. Stan poked at the leftover ice with his straw. He wasn’t entirely sure what Wendy had been talking about for the last few minutes, but he decided to change the subject anyways.
“So then, Mrs. Li–”
“–it’s weird seeing the two of them together, right?” Stan interrupted.
“What? Who–” Wendy glanced across the room, “–Oooh, you mean Bebe and Kyle.” She was definitely a little tipsy and considered the pair while taking a little sip of her drink. “I dunno… I always thought they'd be super cute together, and they really kinda are,” she said dreamily.
“I guess…” Stan muttered, stabbing at the ice in his drink.
“I hope they start dating, it would be fun to double date with our besties all the time.” Stan and Wendy hadn’t been having a lot of fun together lately.
“True…”
Across the room, Bebe started swaying her hips to the music, standing suggestively close to Kyle as she tried to encourage him to dance. Like that was ever going to happen. Kyle’s eyes flicked over to Stan and saw him watching. What was he–
Kyle actually started to dance with her. Kyle didn’t dance. Ever. But now he was in a bar basically bumping and grinding with Bebe Stevens.
Stan slammed his empty glass on the bar and Wendy startled.
“Stan?! What’s–”
“–I need a smoke break, I’m gonna see if Kyle wants to come.” Stan announced, already halfway across the room a moment later. With no qualms about interrupting, Stan clomped over to Kyle and Bebe, effectively breaking up their little dance party.
“Kyle,” he said, jaw clenched, “let’s go smoke a cig.” It should have been a question, but it wasn’t. Kyle pretended like he was actually thinking about saying no, like he actually wanted Bebe climbing all over him and covering him in fuckass sparkly Rihanna body glitter.
“Eh, I dunno…” Kyle rebuffed, his arm still around Bebe’s waist. Stan changed tact.
“Bebe, Wendy wants to talk to you.” Stan said, appealing to her instead. It was a lie, but Wendy probably did want to bitch about him to Bebe anyways, so it would work out well enough.
“She does?” Bebe unwound herself from Kyle, “I’m gonna go see what Wens wants,” she told Kyle, trailing her hand down his arm paired with a sultry look that communicated: to be continued. Kyle said… something to her. Stan didn’t hear him over psychic screams of fuck off fuck off fuck off directed at Bebe that were filling his head.
Then Bebe was gone and it was just Stan and Kyle. Finally.
“Cigarette. Now.” Stan stated, heading for the door. Kyle scowled at him but followed Stan out and around the side of the building to a dim empty ally containing the bar’s dumpsters.
When they were truly alone Stan spun around and faced Kyle, pissed off at him and not really sure why, but pissed off nonetheless.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Stan demanded harshly.
Kyle wasn’t fazed. He raised his eyebrows at Stan, looking down at him like he was so high and mighty and Stan was a stupid kid– and Kyle was only like, two freaking inches taller than him, if that.
“Oh so you don’t want to smoke a cigarette?” Kyle asked sarcastically, like he’d known from the beginning that Stan could give less of a shit about a dumbass cigarette. Stan just ignored the question and launched into his own.
“What the hell are you doing with Bebe?” Kyle casually leaned back against the wall of the building, reminiscent of the way he’d been standing when she was wrapped around him. “Do you even like girls?” Stan continued interrogating. Kyle shrugged noncommittally.
“So… just to be clear… we're not gonna smoke a cigarette?”
“Dude, fuck off about a cigarette!”
“So then you dragged me outside to, what, yell at me? For what? Not being gay? I knew you were woke Stan, I didn’t think you were like, a reverse homophobe,” Kyle finished, smirking at his own quip. Stan wasn’t amused.
“So you’re straight now? And you like Bebe, of all people? She’s the one that finally did it for you? Seriously, Kyle? Fucking trashy-ass Bebe? ”
“What do you care if I’m straight or not? You have a girlfriend anyways.” Kyle snapped, ignoring the Bebe insult.
Stan registered what Kyle had said for a long moment and it felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over his inexplicable fiery rage. Kyle hadn’t even noticed what he’d implied, he was still braced for Stan’s petty comeback that never came.
“....What if I didn’t have a girlfriend?” Stan asked genuinely, surprising even himself with the question. Kyle’s defensive mask of bitchiness dropped and he seemed taken aback.
“What do you mean, ‘what if you didn’t have a girlfriend?’”
“Like… if I didn’t have a girlfriend… would I be allowed to care?”
“Why would you care?”
“I dunno. Would it make a difference if I did?”
“Make a difference… how?” Kyle asked warily. Stan wasn’t fully sure of where he was going with this, but he was suddenly very driven on continuing this line of vague questioning.
“Like… in how you think of me, I guess?”
“How I think of you… like, as a person, like, morally? Or as in like, our… dynamic ?” Kyle questioned, starting to dig to the root of the question that Stan wasn’t even fully aware he was asking.
“The second thing.”
Kyle stared at him.
“So… let me get this straight. You’re asking me, if you were single… and you wanted me to be gay and not date Bebe… would that… affect our relationship?”
Oh. Is that really what that sounded like strung together logically? Fuck.
“Uhhhh…” was all Stan could say.
“Stan, are you asking me if I would want to g–?”
“–Hey guys!” came the sound of an annoying high pitched voice. Bebe.
Stan and Kyle whipped around to see Wendy and Bebe rounding the corner to the ally.
“Oh shoot, did you finish smoking already?” Wendy asked, noticing their empty hands. “We were hoping to get a drag.”
“I loveeeeee a good drunk cigarette,” Bebe drawled.
Stan reached into his back pocket and slapped his carton of cigs and lighter into Wendy’s hand.
“Take it. I’m going to the bathroom.”
Stan left the three of them in the dust and pretty much ran back inside and locked himself inside the dirty little bar bathroom, splashing his face with water.
What had he been asking Kyle?
He’d basically said, ‘if I was single, would you date me?’ that’s what he had fucking asked Kyle.
Why the fuck would he ask Kyle that?
Suddenly the feeling chewing at his gut all night while watching Kyle and Bebe had a familiar name– jealousy.
How was he THAT stupid?
Fuck.