Archive of Our Own ^beta

Cartman’s basement hardly looked like a basement anymore. It was made to look like a headquarters, if the headquarters had belonged to a fourth grader with unlimited access to construction paper and duct tape.

A crooked “COON AND FRIENDS” banner hung across the far wall, held up with too much tape. In the middle of the basement, Cartman had a folding table set up with plastic chairs all around it. A cheap desk lamp pointed at the wall where he’d taped up his “Franchise Vision Board.” The board was still blank, but Cartman kept gesturing at it anyway whenever he started talking about “Phase One.”

Kyle was slouched over by the stairs in his Human Kite costume. His eyes kept drifting around the room, over the chairs and posters and down at the floor, anywhere but Cartman. It was too embarrassing.

If anyone noticed anything, it would be over. 

They’d been together for two weeks now. The reality of their situation was still taking its time to settle into Kyle's mind. Cartman had confessed first, of course. It happened on some random afternoon when Stan and Kenny had gone home early and they’d been alone at Cartman’s house, surrounded by video games and food.

He’d said, “Kyle…” like it was the start of a joke, then leaned in like he was actually going to kiss him.

Kyle had shoved him back on instinct and snapped, “What the fuck are you doing? What is wrong with you?”

Cartman brushed it off immediately, his face slipping back into a smug expression like it had all been a prank, and Kyle was the idiot for reacting.

Kyle had tried to believe that. He’d wanted it to be a prank.

But later, at home, Kyle couldn’t stop thinking about how close it had been. Cartman leaning in like he was really going to kiss him. The way his voice changed right before he tried to laugh it off. And that split second look on his face before he hid it again. What if he actually meant it?

Kyle had come to terms with his feelings slowly, and it pissed him off that he even had to. When he finally admitted it to Cartman, it wasn’t dramatic. It was just the truth, sitting between them. After that, they were… together.

They kept it a secret. Kyle convinced himself it was practical. Stan would judge, and he wouldn’t even try to hide it, Kenny would make it weird, and somehow it would turn into a whole thing. Kyle didn’t want a whole thing.

Mostly, he didn’t want anyone messing with his relationship at all. He didn’t want jokes, arguments, or opinions about it. He wanted it to stay theirs, quiet and untouched.

So down here, in the basement, they were just superheroes. Just Human Kite and The Coon, surrounded by everyone else.

Everyone took their seats around the table, with Cartman at the head so that everyone was forced to face him.

“Alright, listen up, Coon and Friends!” Cartman announced. “We have a new mission today.”

Stan fiddled with his dad’s screwdriver restlessly before leaning back in his chair. “Is it an actual mission?”

Kenny, using a purposely deepened voice, snorted. “If it involves Cartman and the word ‘mission,’ it’s probably just him wanting attention.”

Cartman shot them a look. “Shut up, assholes. This is important. We’re doing franchise expansion. We are building a brand.”

Clyde nodded so hard his wings wobbled. “Hell yeah, dude! Brand!”

Cartman smacked his clipboard against the table like it was important paperwork. “We got clients. People in this town are hiring us to put up posters.”

Stan blinked. “Posters.”

“Yes, posters, dude,” Cartman said, already annoyed. He pointed a finger at the stack of rolled papers on the table. “And they’re paying us fifty bucks.”

Clyde’s eyes widened. “Fifty dollars?!”

Cartman puffed up. “Yes! You guys, that is gonna make us rich. That is Coon and Friends money. That is Phase One money.”

Stan stared at him, unimpressed. “Dude, fifty dollars is not rich.”

Kenny leaned forward. “That’s like… one video game.”

“If you’re lucky,” Tolkien said.

Cartman’s face twisted with offense. “Oh my God, you guys don’t understand economics at all. We do this enough times, we build capital, then we start Phase One, then we make movies and TV shows, then Netflix comes giving us a deal—”

Craig cut in, flat. “Netflix is not giving us a deal.”

Cartman whipped around. “Shut up, Craig! God, you’re such an asshole."

Jimmy raised his hand like this was class. “I-I think it’s a p-pretty good idea, Cartman. Fr-franchises are where the m-money is.”

Tweek nodded way too fast. “Yes! Yes! And then we’ll be famous and people won’t forget us, and we’ll have, like, action figures and lunchboxes and then—then we’ll have to hire lawyers and lawyers are scary and—”

“Okay, dude,” Craig said, voice calm like he’d said it a thousand times. “Breathe.”

Cartman waved at the stack of posters. “We got a bunch of people hiring us for promotion, like Jimbo and Ned, Skeeter, and City Wok, and yeah, most of them are probably just doing it because they feel bad for us since we’re kids, but I don’t care because money talks!”

Stan stared. “Wait. They’re paying us because they feel bad?”

Clyde leaned forward, trying to keep the optimism alive. “Well, I mean… it’s a start!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Stan said, pointing at Clyde. “It’s a start. It’s not ‘we’re rich.’”

Cartman slammed the clipboard down. “It’s rich enough! It funds our franchise plan, okay?!”

The room immediately devolved into arguing. Stan said fifty dollars was nothing, Clyde kept calling it “a good beginning,” Tweek started freaking out about taxes, Jimmy tried to keep everyone on track, and Craig muttered insults under his breath.

And in the middle of it, Cartman drifted away.

Kyle noticed it right away.

Cartman walked over to the blank poster board he called the “Franchise Vision Board” and stared at it for a moment. His shoulders tensed, his mouth went still, and the performance dropped.

Kyle didn’t move at first. Don’t be obvious. He let a few moments pass, like he was just watching the group argue. Then he crossed the room “casually,” as if he was interested in the posters.

He stopped next to Cartman. “Hey. When are we leaving for the mission?”

Cartman didn’t look at him right away. His eyes stayed on the empty board like he could already see the lineup.

Then, quieter, he said, “Kyle… how would you like to have two movies in Phase One?”

Kyle lit up. “Really? You’d do that?”

Cartman finally turned, his grin sliding back into place. “Yeah. Two movies. Human Kite gets two movies, because I said so.”

Kyle’s chest did that stupid little jump, and he hated that it made him smile. He leaned in anyway, keeping his voice low. “Isn’t that too obvious?”

Cartman frowned. “What’s too obvious?”

Kyle glanced toward the others. Stan was still talking over Clyde. Jimmy was trying to calm everyone down. Craig looked like he was about to walk out. No one was watching them, but Kyle still felt exposed.

“Dude,” Kyle whispered, “people might think something’s up if you’re too nice to me.”

Cartman scoffed, like Kyle was being ridiculous. “They won’t suspect anything, Jew.”

Kyle didn’t answer, but the tight feeling in his stomach didn’t go away. 

Stan’s voice cut across the room. “Guys, we should head out soon if we’re actually doing this.”

Kenny nodded. “Yeah, before it gets dark.”

Jimmy popped up. “The s-sooner we do it, the s-sooner we get paid.”

“And the sooner we can go home,” Craig added.

Tweek threw his hands up. “Yes! We should go now! We have to be efficient! If we’re not efficient, then we’ll be late and then—oh my God—”

Tolkien stood up and spoke over him, practical as always. “We split up in groups. Cover more ground.”

Kyle opened his mouth, already prepared to say he’d go with Stan. It made sense. It was safe. Nobody would suspect anything.

Cartman beat him to it.

“Me and the Human Kite will take Main Street,” Cartman announced, loud enough to make it a decree. “We’ll put up City Wok posters. The rest of you idiots can figure out your own routes.”

Kyle’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide in warning.

Cartman didn’t flinch.

Kyle almost protested out loud, but it was too late. Clyde had already grabbed Jimmy, Stan was heading out with Kenny, and Tolkien said he’d go with Craig and Tweek.

He stood there for half a second, trapped. If he made a big deal out of not going with Cartman, that would look worse than just going.

Cartman grabbed the City Wok posters. “Alright! Let’s go, Human Kite.”

Kyle forced his face into something neutral. “Yeah. Great. Awesome.”

_____

Main Street was covered in slush and dirty snowbanks. Kyle’s cape kept snapping in the wind, and Cartman marched beside him like he owned the entire sidewalk. They didn’t say much until they were far enough from the others.

Kyle stopped at the next street pole and yanked a strip of tape so hard it screeched off the roll. “Dude… what the hell was that?”

Cartman paused with a City Wok poster half-raised. “What was what?”

Kyle lowered his voice, eyes sharp. “You volunteering us together. You would never do that.”

Cartman stared at him for a second, then rolled his eyes like Kyle was being dramatic on purpose. “Oh my God, Kyle, relax. Nobody’s suspecting anything. You’re acting like Stan’s gonna run up and be like, ‘Wow, Cartman didn’t call you names for ten seconds, you must be dating.’”

Kyle’s jaw tightened. That is literally something Stan would say, he thought, and hated that it wasn’t even a stretch. He grabbed the other side of the poster and pressed it to the pole. “Just—whatever. Put it up.”

They worked in tense silence. Kyle smoothed the corners with his hands while the wind kept trying to peel the poster back. Cartman slapped tape onto it like it was a battle Kyle was losing.

When it finally held, Cartman took two steps back, inspecting it with the seriousness of an art critic. “Perfect.” Kyle didn’t look. He kept his eyes on the tape roll, on his hands, on anything that wasn’t Cartman’s face.

Then Cartman’s voice changed.

“Kyle,” he said, quieter than he’d been all day. “Are you embarrassed of me?”

Kyle froze with the tape still stretched between his fingers. “What?”

Cartman’s mouth pulled tight under the mask. “Is that why you don’t want people finding out about us? ’Cause you don’t wanna be seen with me or whatever?”

Kyle’s throat went dry. He forced himself to move again. “No, Cartman. That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” Cartman pushed, voice sharp now, defensive. “Because I don’t care. I would tell them.”

Kyle’s hands stopped. He turned, stepping closer so he didn’t have to raise his voice. “I don’t want people involved. That’s it. Not even Stan or Kenny.”

Cartman’s eyes flicked over Kyle’s face like he was trying to catch a lie. “It’s just the guys.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, exhaling hard, “and the guys are idiots.”

Cartman scoffed. “Stan’s an idiot, sure, but Kenny’s not gonna care.”

Kyle shot back immediately, “Kenny will still make it weird.”

Cartman threw his free hand out, frustrated. “So what, we’re just never telling anyone?”

Kyle’s chest tightened at that, because part of him wanted to say yes. Keep it theirs. Keep it safe. Keep it out of everyone’s mouths.

But he didn’t say that. He couldn’t.

“No,” Kyle said, voice firm, even as his stomach twisted. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

Cartman’s shoulders rose and fell like he was trying not to explode. “Then say what you’re saying.”

Kyle hesitated. “I like what we have,” Kyle said. “I do. I just… when we’re with everyone, I want it to stay normal. I want us to still be… us.”

Cartman stared at him. “So you want me to act like an asshole to you in front of them?”

Kyle’s face went hot. “No! I mean—dude, you already act like an asshole to me.”

Cartman blinked, offended. “I do not—”

Kyle cut him off, voice low but honest. “You call me a Jew. I call you a racist fatass. That’s how we are. I’m not trying to change that. I just don’t want everyone staring at us like we’re some… thing.”

Cartman’s mouth twitched like he had a comeback ready, but it didn’t land. “Whatever,” he muttered, and it came out bitter, like the word tasted bad.

Kyle’s expression softened even though he didn’t want it to. “I just want it to be between us for a while, okay?”

Cartman looked away first. For a second he stood there, raccoon mask crooked, gripping the tape roll too tight, like he was holding himself back from saying something cruel just to prove he didn’t care.

Then his shoulders dropped.

“Fine,” Cartman said, and the word came out smaller than Kyle expected.

By the time they hit the last pole on Main Street, Kyle’s fingers had gone numb, and his patience was hanging by a thread.

Cartman made them redo two posters because they were “crooked,” like anyone in South Park was going to stop walking, squint at a City Wok coupon, and file a complaint. Kyle did most of the smoothing and taping anyway, because Cartman kept stepping back with his arms folded, inspecting his “marketing strategy.”

Cartman was tearing off another strip of tape when his phone buzzed. 

“What,” he said.

Craig’s voice came through, bored and flat. “We’re done. Wonder Tweek, Tupperware, and I finished the posters for Jimbo and Ned’s gun store.”

Tweek jumped in immediately, voice bright with nervous energy. “Yeah! We did all of them! Like, seriously, all of them. There were staples and tape and I think I got glue on my glove and now it feels weird and—”

“Okay, good,” Cartman cut in. “Report back to the Coon Lair.”

“Whatever,” Craig said, and the line went dead.

Cartman shoved his phone back into his pocket and started walking without saying anything. Kyle followed, his cape dragging a little in the slush. The cold air stung his cheeks, and Cartman’s boots scraped the sidewalk as he went.

Kyle glanced over after a minute. Cartman’s mouth was set in that stubborn line he got when he was pretending he didn’t feel anything.

Kyle slowed. “Cartman… you okay?”

Cartman didn’t look at him. “Yeah.”

Kyle knew that “yeah.” It meant drop it. It meant don’t make me talk about it. 

His chest tightened anyway.

He’d meant what he said earlier. He just didn’t want their friends getting involved and turning it into something they’d never stop talking about. He didn’t want Stan making it awkward, Kenny making it weird, or Cartman doing something loud in public just to prove a point.

Kyle reached over and took Cartman’s hand.

Cartman reacted like it surprised him, like he hadn’t expected Kyle to do it right there on the sidewalk. They both stopped walking, sudden and still, the town moving around them like they weren’t there.

Kyle swallowed, then forced himself to speak before he could talk himself out of it.

“Look,” Kyle said quietly, “if you want to tell everyone, then… I’m fine with it. Just give me some time, okay? And we can figure out how to do it. Together.”

He hated hearing himself say it, because part of him didn’t mean it.

I want it to stay ours, Kyle admitted, heat creeping up his neck. I want it to stay secret because it’s easier. Because it feels safer. Because I don’t want anyone looking at me like I’m weird, or making jokes, or acting like they get to have a say.

But he meant the other part too, and that part was louder than he wanted it to be.

If this is what Cartman needs, I’ll do it. Even if it scares the hell out of me.

Cartman stared at their joined hands for a second. Then he looked up at Kyle. His expression softened in a way that always caught Kyle off guard, because Cartman was never supposed to look like that.

“It’s okay, Kyle,” Cartman said, and for once his voice didn’t sound like he was putting on a show. “I know it’ll probably be weird if we tell everyone.”

Kyle blinked. “Yeah?”

Cartman shrugged, trying to act like he didn’t care, like this was whatever. “I mean… we’re not exactly like Tweek and Craig.”

Kyle let out a small huff that was almost a laugh. “No, we’re not.”

Cartman’s lips tugged into a smile, smug trying to resurface, but it didn’t quite cover the sadness underneath it.

“I’ll be fine,” Cartman said, quieter. Then he snapped back into his usual tone like he’d decided he didn’t want Kyle seeing too much. “Now come on. Let’s go get money for our franchise plan!”

Kyle squeezed his hand once, then let go before anyone could walk by and see. They started moving again, side by side.

_____

They made it back to Cartman’s house and went down to the basement.

Stan was slumped in a folding chair, already looking bored. Kenny leaned against the wall in his Mysterion mask, arms folded. Craig stood there looking pissed like usual. Tweek hovered by the stairs, jittery. Tolkien waited by the table, quiet.

“We’re just waiting on Clyde and Jimmy,” Tolkien said.

Kyle rolled his shoulders and felt the kite strap bite wrong against his chest. The cape kept catching the back of his neck every time he moved, and the whole harness tugged like it was trying to choke him.

He winced before he could stop himself. “Ugh. This costume is so uncomfortable.”

Stan glanced over. “What’s wrong?”

Kyle lifted the strap near his shoulder and tried to work the knot loose. It only made it worse. “I think I need to fix my kite string.”

“Oh dude, I can help—” Stan started, already leaning forward.

Cartman cut in instantly. “No.”

Stan blinked. “What?”

Cartman was already standing. “Because you’ll mess it up. And then Human Kite will look stupid. And if he looks stupid, we look stupid.”

Kyle’s stomach flipped. Cartman, shut up. He should’ve been annoyed. He should’ve rolled his eyes and told him to back off like he always did.

Instead, Cartman stepped right into Kyle’s space and reached up without hesitating.

Kyle went still.

Cartman’s hands were warm through the costume fabric as he found the knot and started working it loose with his fingers, careful in a way Kyle didn’t expect from him.

Kyle’s heart started pounding the second Cartman leaned in closer. He could feel him right there, close enough to make his chest tighten for a reason that had nothing to do with the costume. Oh my god. Everyone’s right here. He kept his eyes forward and forced his face to stay neutral, but the heat still climbed into his cheeks, and he hated how much he liked Cartman being this close.

Cartman lowered his voice so only Kyle could hear. “Hold still,” he muttered. “You’re always, like, tangled in your own crap.”

Kyle swallowed. “I’m not—”

“Shh,” Cartman cut him off, still working. “I got it.”

Kyle didn’t move. He couldn’t. Cartman’s fingers tightened the strap, fixed the twist, and smoothed the string back into place with a final little tug that sat right against Kyle’s chest, and Kyle felt his pulse jump again.

The room went quiet. Everyone was watching Cartman, of all people, fix Kyle’s costume gently.

Kyle’s face felt hot. He stared at the wall and tried to breathe like this was nothing, like Cartman’s hands on him didn’t make his stomach flip.

“There,” Cartman said, voice louder again, back in front-of-everyone mode. “Now you don’t look like an idiot.”

Kyle glanced down at the harness. It sat right. It felt better. He looked up again, still smiling a little in spite of himself, and his stomach tightened because part of him didn’t want Cartman to step back.

Kenny cleared his throat loudly, cutting through the moment on purpose. “Uh… anyway, can someone call Clyde or Jimmy?”

Stan snapped out of it too fast. “Yeah. We should— we should check in.”

Tweek nodded rapidly, grabbing onto the new topic like it was life support. “Yes! Yes, because I have to get home soon for dinner, and my mom is gonna freak out if I’m late, and I can’t be late, you guys, I seriously can’t—”

Kyle kept his smile small as he looked down at his now-fixed costume.

_____

The next day after school, Kyle showed up at Cartman’s house already in his Human Kite costume. He rang the bell once and shifted his weight, trying not to look like he’d gotten there early on purpose.

The door opened almost right away.

Cartman was already in his Coon outfit. Mask on, cape crooked, standing there like he’d been waiting. His eyes ran over Kyle for a second.

“Hey, Jew.”

Kyle rolled his eyes on reflex, but his smile still slipped through. “Hey, fatass.”

Cartman’s grin widened. “Took you long enough.” Then he reached out, grabbed Kyle’s hand, and tugged him inside like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Kyle stumbled a half-step, startled more by the contact than the pull. “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”

Cartman didn’t even bother looking back. “Come on. We gotta get to the Lair.”

Kyle’s face heated instantly. Okay. Cool. Cartman is holding my hand. He tried to pull back without making it obvious, but Cartman didn’t let go.

Kyle glanced toward the living room out of habit. “Cartman, what if the others—”

“Relax,” Cartman said, like Kyle was being dramatic. “You’re the first one here.”

Kyle blinked. “I am?”

“Yeah,” Cartman said, already dragging him down the stairs. “Everyone else is slow and stupid.”

Kyle should’ve had a comeback ready. Instead his heart was beating faster than it deserved to, and he hated that Cartman could do that to him with one stupid hand.

Cartman let go long enough to shut the basement door, then grabbed Kyle’s hand again immediately, like it was part of the routine now.

Kyle tried to sound annoyed instead of flustered. “You’re being weird today.”

Cartman scoffed. “I’m not being weird.”

“You’re holding my hand,” Kyle shot back, and his voice cracked on the last word, which was humiliating.

Cartman glanced down at their hands like he’d forgotten, then looked back up, completely smug. “Yeah. And? What, you scared?”

Kyle’s ears went hot. “I’m not scared, you asshole.”

“Good,” Cartman said, like that settled it.

Kyle opened his mouth to keep fighting, because that was what they did, but his eyes snagged on Cartman’s costume.

Cartman’s raccoon mask sat a little crooked, the ears uneven, and his cape was bunched up on one shoulder because he never fixed anything properly. His cheeks were pink, and a few strands of hair stuck out where the mask strap pressed too tight.

Kyle’s stomach flipped.

God, he looks cute, Kyle thought, and immediately felt his face heat up. It wasn’t even just the costume. It was the way Cartman stood like he was bigger than he was, chin tipped up like the mask made him important. And every few seconds his eyes flicked back to Kyle, quick little checks like he couldn’t help it.

Cartman’s thumb rubbed over Kyle’s knuckles, slow and casual, like he knew exactly what it would do to him. Kyle’s face got even hotter, and it pissed him off how easy it was for Cartman to fluster him.

Cartman finally turned toward the Vision Board. “Okay. So. I already wrote down Phase One.”

Kyle’s attention snapped over. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Cartman said, proud. “Last night. It’s really good.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes. “Did you make yourself the main character again?”

Cartman looked offended in the way only Cartman could manage. “Of course I did, Kyle. I’m The Coon. That’s the point.”

Kyle snorted, but it came out softer than he meant it to. He glanced at their hands again and then away fast. This is still new. This is still… weird.

Cartman started pacing a little. “Alright, so when everyone gets here, I’m gonna present it, and then we start planning Phase One production, and then we start thinking about Phase Two because Phase Two is gonna be even bigger—”

“Cartman,” Kyle said, without thinking.

Cartman stopped mid-pace. “What?”

Kyle didn’t know why he said his name. He just knew Cartman looked weirdly serious about it, like he’d actually been thinking about it for real, and Kyle’s chest felt warm in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

“What is it?” Cartman asked again, quieter this time, trying to sound annoyed but failing.

Kyle swallowed. His fingers tightened around Cartman’s hand before he could stop himself, and Cartman’s eyes dropped to it like he’d felt the change.

Kyle didn’t talk. He just stepped closer, and kissed him.

It was quick. Kyle caught the edge of Cartman’s mouth and then their noses bumped, awkward enough that Kyle jerked back immediately, eyes wide, heart slamming against his ribs.

Oh my God. That was— Kyle’s thoughts tangled and tripped over each other. That was our first kiss. 

Cartman froze like he’d been unplugged. His hand was still holding Kyle’s, but his face went hot so fast Kyle could see it even under the stupid mask. 

Kyle’s whole face burned. “I—” he started, then stopped because he had no idea what he was trying to say.

Cartman’s mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile, but he didn’t get to hide behind it. He swallowed hard, eyes darting to Kyle’s and then away again, like looking at him directly might make his head explode.

“Dude,” Cartman said, and even that sounded shaky. “What the hell…”

Kyle shoved his shoulder lightly, more out of panic than annoyance. “Shut up.”

Cartman didn’t let go of Kyle’s hand. If anything, his grip tightened. “You— you just did that.”

Kyle’s face was burning. “Yeah, well—”

Cartman leaned in like he was going to do it back, moving slow this time—

And then they heard it.

Footsteps above them. The front door opening. Voices cutting through the house.

Stan’s voice, loud and normal. “Dude, where is he?”

Tweek’s voice immediately following, already frantic. “I told you guys he’s always downstairs! He’s always downstairs! What if he made, like, a trap?”

Craig’s bored reply. “If there’s a trap, I hope it gets me.”

Kyle jerked back, and Cartman snapped his hand away at the same time. They stared at each other for half a second, both breathing too hard, both trying to look normal again.

Stan spotted Kyle right away and lifted his eyebrows. “Oh. Hey, Kyle. You’re already here.”

Kyle’s answer came out too fast. “Yeah. I got here early.”

Why did I say it like that? Kyle dropped into a folding chair and made his hands busy. Adjusting his cape, fiddling with the kite string strap… anything that looked normal, anything that didn’t scream I just kissed Cartman.

Cartman stood at the front with his arms crossed, raccoon mask slightly crooked, smug as hell. Kyle’s cheeks heated up anyway, because he knew exactly why.

Everyone settled in with the usual scraping chairs and complaining. Cartman stayed standing ahead of the table.

“Did we get paid?” Craig asked.

Cartman’s grin spread like he’d been waiting all day for this moment. “Uh, yeah, Craig. We got paid.”

Craig didn’t react. “We got the fifty bucks?”

Cartman puffed up, practically vibrating. “Yes! Fifty whole dollars! That’s like—” he paused, “—a billion dollars in Coon and Friends money. We’re basically rich now.”

Kenny snorted. “We’re still not rich with just fifty dollars, Cartman.”

Clyde popped up immediately, wings bobbing as he spoke. “Dude, it’s good enough! Once we get a deal with Netflix, we’ll be billionaires!”

Tweek’s eyes went huge. “B-Billionaires? That’s—do billionaires have bodyguards? Because if we’re billionaires then people are gonna try to kidnap us and—”

Craig cut in, flat and practiced. “Dude, calm down.”

Stan leaned forward. “So… we can start planning Phase One?”

Cartman looked offended that Stan even had to ask. “Uh, yeah. I already made it.”

He turned toward the Vision Board wall and grabbed the edge of a sheet that had been taped over it. “Look.”

Cartman yanked the cover off with a dramatic flourish.

Underneath was Cartman’s version of a franchise roadmap. A whole plan sprawled across the board, including a Netflix series written in there like it was already signed.

Kyle’s eyes went straight to the part he’d been bracing for.

Human Kite showed up twice.

He couldn’t stop the rush of happiness that hit him. Cartman had said it, and then he’d actually made it real. Kyle forced his face to stay neutral, but he could practically feel Cartman watching him for a reaction.

Don’t smile too much. Don’t be obvious. His cheeks still warmed anyway.

Cartman turned back to the room with his hands spread, like applause was the only reasonable response. “So? What do you guys think?”

Craig stared at the board a second longer, then shrugged. “I like it.”

Clyde nodded hard. “Dude, it’s awesome.”

Jimmy leaned forward, squinting at the labels. “Y-yeah, it’s r-really organized. K-kinda.”

Kyle heard the hesitation in that kinda and knew what was coming before it even happened.

Tweek’s head tilted, eyes darting across the board like he was counting. “Um… wait. Where am I?”

Stan leaned closer too, frowning. “Yeah, where am I?”

Kenny scanned the board, then lifted his head. “Uh… Cartman?”

Cartman waved a hand like this was a minor inconvenience. “Oh my God. You guys are such babies. That’s Phase One. There’s still Phase Two and Phase Three. You’re not, like, erased from history.”

Tolkien muttered, “Sure feels like it.”

Tweek’s voice climbed into panic. “Phase Two and Three? What if I don’t survive Phase One?!”

Clyde jumped in to argue that everyone would get their turn, Jimmy tried to explain sequels like it was a real business model, and Stan started complaining about fairness. Kenny tossed in a sarcastic comment that made Cartman snap back, and suddenly the basement was loud again. 

Kyle sat there trying to look calm while his pulse kept thumping behind his ears.

Then Stan’s voice cut through the noise, sharper than the rest.

“Wait,” Stan said, squinting at the board. “Why does Kyle get two movies?”

“Yeah. You don’t even have two movies, Cartman.” Kenny added.

Cartman’s eyes flicked to Kyle for half a second, too fast for anyone to call it out, but Kyle felt it anyway. Then Cartman snapped his attention back to the group and puffed his chest out like he’d been waiting for this question.

“Uh, well,” Cartman said, dragging it out like it was obvious, “because Human Kite is my sidekick.”

Kyle’s head whipped around so fast he nearly lost his balance. “I’m not your sidekick, fatass!”

Cartman looked personally offended. “Okay, first of all, you don’t get to yell at me in my own lair—”

Kyle leaned in, voice sharp. “You literally just called me your sidekick!”

Cartman pointed at the board like it proved him right. “Yeah, because it’s true. Sidekicks get movies all the time.”

“Sidekicks get beat up!” Kyle shot back. “They get kidnapped and tied to train tracks!”

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, Jew, that’s like… old sidekicks. Modern sidekicks are cool. Like Robin.”

Kyle glared. “Robin is still Batman’s sidekick!”

Cartman threw his hands up, exasperated. “Fine! Fine. You’re not my sidekick. Whatever.” He leaned forward. “Human Kite is marketable, okay?”

Stan squinted. “Marketable?”

“Yes,” Cartman said. “Kids love kites. Kites are fun. They’re like… wind toys.”

Kenny stared at him. “Dude… what?”

Cartman kept going, gesturing wildly now, committing hard to the nonsense. “And adults like… aliens.”

Kenny blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Cartman snapped his fingers like he’d solved it. “Because Human Kite is also an alien. Duh. Aliens sell, you guys. That’s, like, science.”

Craig leaned forward. “Dude, that doesn’t make sense.”

Cartman’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. “Yes it does.”

Tolkien finally spoke, calm but pointed. “Okay, but why are you favoring Kyle?”

Kyle felt his stomach drop. The room got a little quieter, like everyone heard the question land.

Cartman’s head jerked toward Tolkien. “I’m not favoring Kyle, you assholes!”

He was still glaring at Tolkien when the iPad on the table started ringing.

It was taped down with duct tape at the corners, propped up like a little command screen. Cartman had drawn a lightning bolt on the tape in marker, like that made it more official.

The call flashed: SCOTT MALKINSON.

Cartman snapped his head toward it, immediately distracted. “Oh, for—” He stormed over and jabbed the screen. “What?”

Scott’s face filled the iPad. “Coon! I have another way for Coon and Friends to make money.”

Cartman blinked. “What?”

“Mr. Adams is offering fifty bucks for us to put up pictures of his headshot.”

Kenny’s head jerked up. “Uh… why does that asshole need us?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. He was desperate. He saw what we did for City Wok and Jimbo and Ned.”

Craig muttered, “That’s… sad.”

Clyde’s face lit up like he’d just heard the best news of his life. “Dude, this is good for business! That’s another fifty! A hundred dollars will last us forever!”

Tolkien stared at him. “Clyde, you bought a seventeen-dollar slushie last week.”

“That was one time!” Clyde said, defensive. Then he grinned again. “This is different. This is franchise money.”

Cartman turned back to the room, already puffing up again like the question about Kyle had never happened. “Okay, Coon and Friends! We have another mission!”

Kyle felt his shoulders loosen without meaning to. Thank God. The topic changed so fast it was like Tolkien’s question never existed. Kyle didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if it hadn’t.

Everyone started moving at once, adjusting costumes, arguing about who was carrying tape. Cartman was barking orders like he was in charge of an army.

Kyle was halfway to the stairs when Stan stepped in front of him.

“Hey,” Stan said, lower than his normal voice. “Dude… I’ve noticed you and Cartman have been weird lately. What’s going on?”

Kyle’s stomach dropped. He hated lying to Stan. Stan was his best friend, and Kyle was terrible at faking it when it mattered. His face always gave him away. His voice always got tight.

Kyle forced himself to look annoyed instead. “Nothing, dude. He’s an asshole like always. Why?”

Stan didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know,” he said, eyes narrowing. “He’s… nicer to you recently.”

Kyle almost choked. Nicer? That wasn’t even the word for it.

He shrugged, trying to make it casual. “It’s nothing. He probably matured or something.”

Stan stared at him for a second longer, like he was deciding whether to push. Then he backed off, still suspicious.

“Alright,” Stan said. “Whatever.”

Kyle nodded like he didn’t care and slipped past him before Stan could ask another question.

Behind him, Cartman yelled, “Move it, you guys! We’re about to get paid again!”

_____

They split up again once they got out into town. Clyde, Jimmy, Tweek, Craig, and Tolkien headed off together with their stack. Kyle ended up with Cartman, Stan, and Kenny. 

Their route took them toward the elementary school. The sidewalks were messy with slush, and the posters kept trying to curl at the edges when the wind hit them. Cartman slapped tape on like he was mad at the pole.

“Dude,” Stan said, looking around, “why are we putting these by the school?”

“Because people walk by here,” Cartman snapped. “And because it’s a good spot. Shut up.”

Kyle was holding the poster flat while Kenny taped the corners, and Cartman stood back, arms crossed, judging it like it was going in a museum.

That was when the sixth graders showed up. They slowed down when they saw the costumes.

One of them laughed. “What the hell are you guys supposed to be?”

The other one pointed. “Dude, look at them. Bunch of fags.” 

Stan’s face tightened. “Uh… maybe we should just leave.”

Cartman whipped around. “Shut up, assholes!” he snapped at the sixth graders. “We’ll kill you.”

The sixth graders cracked up. One of them stepped closer and looked Cartman up and down. “Whoa, look at this little fat superhero.”

Another one snorted. “Bro’s cape is hanging on for its life.”

Cartman’s face went red under the mask. “Screw you guys!”

“Shut up, tubby,” one of them said, shoving his shoulder. “You gonna do something?”

A second kid crowded in, grinning. “Yeah, what’s your move, fatass? You gonna sit on us?”

Another one laughed. “Go cry to your mom, dude.”

Kyle snapped.

He shoved the nearest sixth grader hard in the chest before anyone could stop him. “Don’t talk to him like that!” Kyle yelled, voice shaking with anger. “I’ll fuck you up! I’ll beat you right now!”

Everything went quiet for half a second.

Cartman just stared at him, caught off guard. Stan’s eyes went wide. Kenny looked between Kyle and the sixth graders like he was trying to figure out what to stop first.

One of the sixth graders laughed and stepped right into Kyle’s face. “Jesus, what’s your problem? Guess fags stick together, huh?”

Kyle’s face went hot.

“Shut the fuck up!” Kyle shouted, and before anyone could grab him, he swung.

His fist cracked into the sixth grader’s cheek. It wasn’t a perfect punch, but it landed hard enough to make the kid stumble back, swearing.

Stan froze. Cartman’s mouth dropped open.

The other sixth graders all moved at once, yelling and crowding in.

Kenny grabbed Kyle by the front of his costume and yanked him back. “Dude, stop!” Kenny said fast. “It’s not worth it, we’re outnumbered!”

Kyle was still trying to lunge forward, breathing hard, ready to swing again.

“C’mon, Kyle, run!” Cartman yelled.

That did it.

They took off. Kyle first, then Kenny and Stan, Cartman pounding after them with short, angry steps. They didn’t stop until they were far enough away that the sixth graders’ voices faded behind them.

Cartman bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. His cape was twisted, his mask even more crooked than usual.

“God… damn it,” Cartman wheezed. “I hate… running.”

Kyle’s chest was still tight. He stepped closer and put a hand on Cartman’s back, gentle, like he didn’t want to spook him. “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

Cartman straightened up slowly, still catching his breath. 

“I’m fine,” Cartman said, quieter. Then, after a beat. “Thanks.”

Kyle’s fingers lingered for half a second before he pulled his hand away, heart still beating too fast for a different reason now.

A few steps away, Kenny leaned toward Stan, eyes flicking between them. “Do you see this?” he muttered. “What the fuck is happening with those two lately?”

Stan exhaled, tired in a way that had nothing to do with posters. He watched Kyle and Cartman for another second, then looked away.

“Yeah,” Stan said, low. “I hope we figure it out soon.”

____

Later that night, Coon and Friends got the fifty bucks.

Cartman held the money up like he’d won the lottery, made everyone look at it twice, then immediately started talking about “franchise budget allocation” until Stan told him to shut up. After that, his mom ordered KFC for all of them, and Cartman made everyone eat in the living room because he said the basement was “for strategy,” which somehow turned into him yelling at people over video games for hours.

The living room was a mess by the end of it. Greasy KFC boxes on the table, crumbs all over the carpet, controllers everywhere. Somebody kept getting blamed for “screen cheating,” Cartman screamed when he lost, and then claimed the game was broken. Nobody cared. They were all too tired and too full to fight about it for long.

When it finally got late, they dragged their sleeping bags down to the basement for the sleepover. Stan dropped down near Kenny. Craig and Tweek ended up in the corner together, with Tweek already half curled into Craig before the lights were even fully off. Tolkien took a spot away from the noise and was asleep almost immediately. Clyde and Jimmy were still arguing in whispers about which Coon and Friends movie should come first until one of them passed out mid-sentence.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Stan woke up.

At first he just stared at the ceiling, confused, listening to the room. Somebody was snoring. Somebody else kept shifting around in their sleeping bag. It took him a second to remember where he was.

Then he looked around.

Kyle and Cartman were gone.

Stan frowned.

He leaned over and shoved Kenny’s shoulder. “Dude,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

Kenny made a noise and dragged his hood down. “Huh… what?”

Stan glanced toward the stairs. “They’re gone.”

Kenny squinted at him, still half asleep. “Who?”

“Kyle and Cartman.”

From the corner, Craig groaned without opening his eyes. “Shut up, you guys…”

Tweek made a small annoyed noise and tucked in closer to him.

Stan ignored them. He gave Kenny a look, then jerked his head toward the basement door.

Kenny stared at him for a second, then finally got it.

“Oh,” he whispered, more awake now.

Stan got up and headed for the stairs. Kenny followed him quietly.

When they got upstairs, Stan checked the living room first.

Nothing.

The TV was off, the KFC boxes were still on the table, and the controllers were scattered all over the carpet where they’d left them. The kitchen was empty too. No Cartman. No Kyle.

Stan looked at Kenny, about to say something, when they both heard voices.

Upstairs.

They froze for a second, listening.

It was quiet, but they could hear someone talking, low and close, and it was definitely coming from Cartman’s room.

Stan looked at Kenny and jerked his head toward the stairs.

Kenny gave him a look like seriously? But followed anyway.

They went up slowly, trying not to make noise. Stan stepped over the creaky part near the top because he’d been to Cartman’s house enough times to know where it was. Kenny stayed right behind him, keeping his footsteps light.

Cartman’s bedroom door was cracked open.

Stan and Kenny crouched a little and peeked in.

Kyle and Cartman were sitting on Cartman’s bed, facing each other, just talking. Kyle’s hat was off, tossed somewhere near the floor, and his hair was messy from sleeping. Cartman looked more relaxed than Stan was used to seeing him.

Stan stayed still, and Kenny did too.

Inside the room, Cartman reached over and touched Kyle’s hair, fingers brushing through the front of it.

“You look way better without your dumb hat,” Cartman said.

Kyle’s face went pink right away. He slapped Cartman’s hand away, but not hard. “Shut up, dude.”

Cartman grinned. “It’s true. You look way cuter like this.”

Kyle looked down for a second, then back at him. “You really like my hair?”

Cartman nodded like it was obvious. “Yeah. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Kyle stared at him, half embarrassed, half trying not to smile. “Then why’d you always rip on me for being a ginger?”

Cartman shrugged. “It was a cover up.”

Kyle laughed under his breath and shook his head. “You asshole.”

Out in the hallway, Stan leaned closer to Kenny and whispered, “Dude, what the fuck.”

Kenny didn’t answer right away. He was still staring into the room, his expression changing from confused to uncomfortable.

Then he whispered back, “I feel bad spying on them. This is clearly private…”

Stan swallowed, but neither of them moved.

They kept listening.

Inside the room, Cartman shifted closer on the bed and looked at Kyle for a second before speaking.

“Hey,” he said, quieter now. “Thanks for defending me in front of those sixth graders. Those pieces of shits.” He rolled his eyes and puffed up again, like he had to recover from being sincere. “I would’ve totally whopped their asses.”

Kyle snorted, but his face still had that leftover heat to it. “I wanted to kill them right there.”

Cartman’s mouth curled into a grin right away. “Wow.” He leaned in a little. “You really like me, don’t you?”

Kyle’s face went red again. “Dude—” He looked down, then back up, annoyed at himself. “Y-yeah. I do.” He made a face like even saying it out loud was painful. 

Cartman looked way too pleased with himself. He reached over and grabbed Kyle’s hand, lacing their fingers together like he owned the move.

“I just realized I’m definitely the man in this relationship,” Cartman said.

Kyle’s head snapped toward him. “What?”

“I just take more control, Jew.”

“We’re both the ‘man’ in the relationship cause we’re both guys, fatass.”

Cartman shrugged like he was explaining basic math. “Kyle, it’s common knowledge. One person in a gay relationship is more dominant.”

Kyle laughed, actually laughed, and squeezed Cartman’s hand without realizing he was doing it. “Dude, then it’s definitely me. I’m stronger, taller, and—”

“Whatever!” Cartman cut in fast, glaring. “I’ll grow up to be taller than you.”

Kyle grinned. “In your dreams.”

Out in the hallway, Kenny slowly turned to Stan and whispered, “Dude… what the fuck…”

Stan looked like he was about to throw up.

Kyle’s smile faded into something softer. He looked down at their hands for a second, then back at Cartman.

“I’m sorry those sixth graders talked to you like that,” Kyle said. “Next time I’ll kick their asses for sure.”

Cartman tried to play it off, but he looked way too happy hearing that. “Yeah, I know you will.”

Kyle leaned in.

The kiss was still clumsy, but longer than the first one. Cartman went bright red the second Kyle got close, and when Kyle pulled back, Cartman looked like he forgot what he was going to say next.

Kyle’s face was warm too, but he kept talking anyway.

“Look, Cartman… you mean a lot to me,” he said, quieter now. “I don’t want to mess this up by having other people know about us.”

Cartman blinked, still flustered. “This again? I already said I’m fine keeping it a secret.”

“I know,” Kyle said. “I just—I want to tell people eventually. I want to, okay? I’m not hiding you forever.” He tightened his hand around Cartman’s. “I just need more time. I need to be ready. But I promise you, you mean a lot to me.”

He smiled at him, small and real.

Cartman looked away for a second because he was blushing so hard it was obvious, then looked back and tried to sound normal.

“Whatever, Jew,” he muttered. “You mean a lot to me too. I guess.”

Kyle laughed. “You were the one who tried to kiss me first, asshole.”

Cartman’s grin came back immediately. “And you liked me back and confessed your feelings.”

Out in the hallway, Stan stared into the room for another second, then leaned toward Kenny and whispered, “Let’s keep this between us, dude.”

Kenny nodded. “Yeah. They’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

Stan gave one last look into the room.

Kyle and Cartman were still laughing on Cartman’s bed, hands together, talking over each other like usual.

Then Stan and Kenny backed away from the door and headed downstairs, leaving them alone.