Chapter Text
Working in hospitality was not for the weak, Kenny had decided. The kitchen was always too hot, the chefs kept yelling at him, and his manager was one of the worst women he’d ever met. She’d spend the whole shift sat at a table, making the servers wait on her practically hand and foot, with some bullshit excuse of going over the accounts. Kenny was pretty sure she hated him specifically too; she always kept an especially close and beady eye on him.
The other thing Kenny hated was the customers. They were annoying and whiny and, no matter how hard he wanted to, he was not allowed to hit them in the face with a drinks tray.
"I’m totally over her."
Case in point. Kenny sighed and turned to face Stan, who was looking especially hittable in that moment, occupying the table in the corner and refusing to order anything. He had eaten all of the free bread though. Bastard.
It was a Monday, meaning Kyle was at debate club, so Kenny guessed he was feeling lonely and needed someone to bother. He wasn’t sure how that made it okay for him to interrupt him at work, or where he found the temerity, but it was happening and Kenny didn’t really care how. He just wished it wasn’t.
"Uh huh." Normally Kenny would have something more to say, but he was on the clock and earning less than minimum wage and he had two actual tables to serve, so he didn’t have much time for Stan’s bullshit.
Any other day though, seriously.
Kenny walked away from him to, you know, carry on with his job, but Stan deemed it appropriate to snap his fingers to get him to come back. Which was not just disrespectful but inconvenient, since the manager had already threatened to write him up for inadequate service, and also Kenny really didn’t care to hear about Wendy Testaburger for the eight billionth time that week. Not that he didn’t like Wendy, he just didn’t like Stan and Wendy, which he’d naively thought wouldn’t have been a problem since they’d been broken up for over a year now.
And yet…
"I’m just saying, now that she’s dating Tolkien it’s weird," Stan continued.
Kenny glanced over his shoulder to see his manager still staring at him, but now with her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She’d probably realised Stan wasn’t a normal guest, but rather one of his annoying friends. This all really wasn’t helping the fact that he’d woken up in a bad mood, and this was just the latest in a long list of things that had gone wrong for him that day. With his luck, he’d probably be dead before his shift was up. It had happened before, the one time he’d decided to argue back when the chef yelled at him. How was Kenny meant to know he was ex military and his wife served him divorce papers that morning? Good for her if anything.
Kenny sighed and flipped open his stupid notepad. "You’re gonna get me in trouble if you don’t order something."
"I’ve eaten this whole basket of bread," Stan said.
"That’s free. And you have to pay if you want more."
"I don’t really want to pay though."
Kenny shot him a withering look. "Then leave."
Stan rolled his eyes and leant back in his chair. "I’ll have more bread then. And a glass of milk."
Kenny’s eye twitched. "Are you serious?"
Stan smirked, probably enjoying forcing Kenny to basically be his glorified servant. "Do I look like I’m kidding?"
Kenny sighed again and looked around. His other tables seemed okay, one was an elderly couple who came every week, and the other was a small family with a very happy toddler. None of them needed refills or anything, so Kenny had no choice but to retrieve Stan’s stupid bread from the kitchen, then pour a glass of milk at the bar, and finally bring it all back over to him.
He made sure to slam it down on the table but Stan didn’t seem to notice, just moved on with the very one sided conversation. "It’s weird, isn’t it?"
"I don’t know, Stan," Kenny admitted, mostly resigned to it now. "I haven’t dated since fourth grade, have I?"
"It is," Stan decided. "Cause, like, we dated for so long."
"Yeah."
"And I’m not saying she’s my property or anything, just that we were like a matching set, for a minute there."
Kenny rolled his eyes. He knew about that all too well. For a while he hadn’t been able to just hang out with Stan, because Wendy was always there. He wasn’t jealous; not at all. Sure it would be nice to have someone like that, but he had enough on his plate between dying and making sure Karen got to school on time and work and soccer practice and—
"What do you think Ken?"
"I think you’re overthinking things," Kenny said bluntly, because his own problems always helped put Stan’s relationship drama into perspective.
Stan hummed and sipped his milk, leaving a stupid little white line above his lip. It only make him look more hittable and Kenny subconsciously found himself searching for the nearest blunt object. "No I don’t think so…"
"Then why even ask?"
"I mean are we really sure she’s dating Tolkien?" Stan continued. "They could just friends."
Kenny snorted. "Yeah friends who make out maybe."
"Yeah… But it doesn’t matter, cause like I said I’m totally over her."
Kenny glanced around furtively, then took the risk and leant against the table. "You’re talking yourself in circles," he said gently.
Stan sighed heavily and finally wiped his mouth; any longer and Kenny would’ve probably given into the urge to do it for him. "I know."
"I thought you really were over her. You’re just sentimentalising it."
"What the fuck does that even mean?"
Kenny rolled his eyes. "Romanticising?" He was met with a blank stare. "Fucking hell, Stan, I thought you were good at English."
"I am, you just use stupid words."
"I do not— You know what, this is not the point. The point is , you told us yourself that the breakup was for the best."
"It was," Stan said, but he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "No it was. But I miss being in a relationship."
Kenny smiled and patted him on the back. "Chin up, pretty boy. Plenty of girls would be happy to have their turn with Wendy’s sloppy seconds, trust me."
Stan looked at him. "Really?"
"Totally! I mean maybe if you stop being such a wet blanket all the time that would help, but yeah!"
Stan cracked a small smile. "Thanks, I think."
"No problem man. Now please pay for your milk and bread and make an exit, before my manager comes over here and puts me on a spit to serve the Sunday lunch rush." Kenny made a sweeping gesture towards the door and flashed Stan his best customer service smile. "And please tip your waiter."
Stan hummed. "Well you forgot my butter."
"Stanley I swear to God—"
"I’m kidding, I’m kidding! 5% right?"
"Stan!"
" Kidding !"
Stan paid, including a cushy 20% gratuity, and Kenny waved him off. He turned around to check on his actual tables, only to come face to face with the scrutinising glare of his manager.
Well shit.
~*~
He got fired. Let go, terminated with immediate effect, handed a little pink slip and wished the best. He then ruined any chances of getting a good reference by causing the manager fat, selfish, a word he wouldn’t repeat where people could hear, and finishing the whole thing by flipping her off.
What can he say? He had nothing but hate in his heart for her anyway.
He didn’t really process it all, so blinded with rage as he was, until he stormed in the house and slammed the door so forcefully Karen flinched from her place on the sofa. "What happened?" she asked, hopping to her feet immediately.
Kenny inhaled deeply, finding the sight of her to be very sobering. He swallowed and shoved his stupid pink slip further into his pocket. Yes, he’d received a paper copy. She probably printed it out specifically just to be a—
"Are you okay?" Karen pressed. "Have you been crying?"
Kenny shook his head and wiped away the few frustrated tears that had spilled in the car. He’d had a very humbling moment at a red light. "Long shift," he lied. "Difficult customers, you know?" At least that part was half true.
Karen worried her bottom lip and fidgeted where she stood. "Are you sure?"
Kenny flashed a hopefully convincing smile and tucked an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah. Don’t worry about me, okay? Everything is under control."
Kenny squeezed her cheek until she smiled and swatted him away, then he left to hide in his bedroom. He flopped face first into the pillows and screamed as loud as he could for exactly five seconds, which was the longest he could afford to go before getting to work. He cracked open his ancient laptop, complete with a DVD drive that didn’t work ever since he spilled soda in it, and opened up the job forums.
He didn’t find much. He’d read somewhere, once, that late stage capitalism was killing the American small town, and it seemed South Park was no exception; everything seemed to be shut down, or couldn’t afford to hire anyone else. It was poor timing.
Things had been tough lately, since Kevin decided to skip town. He’d woken Kenny up in the middle of the night, about six months earlier when it was so hot he felt like his skin might melt off, and smoothed his hair back like he was still a child and told him very bluntly that if he stayed in South Park any longer he’d kill himself.
Kenny remembered staring at him, bleary with sleep and delirium, and clutching at his wrists as he cried into his palms. But then Kevin had looked like he might’ve changed his mind, and the guilt already started eating away at him so Kenny told him to go.
He was having regrets now that his parents had been out on benders that increased both in frequency and length, and he was the sole breadwinner at the ripe age of seventeen, but he’d kind of always known it would end up that way. He wasn’t destined to get out of South Park. It just wasn’t in the cards for him and he’d accepted it a long time ago.
Kenny groaned and flopped back, staring up at his water damaged ceiling. He felt tears prick at his eyes but he forced them down. There was no point crying. It wouldn’t help anyone.
But yeah. Things were looking pretty dire.
He tilted his head to the side and looked at his closet, where he had a big bag of stolen Tegridy Weed hidden. Stan had turned a blind eye and ‘accidentally’ left the barn door unlocked one night, and Kenny had snuck in and taken as much as he could fit in his backpack.
It’s not like he was Pablo Escobar or anything, he sold it to Bebe who desperately needed a reprieve from her overbearing mother and found nicotine wasn’t cutting it anymore, and Tweek who claimed it helped with his paranoia but always started talking about the gnomes in the walls after an ounce. But maybe he could let them spread the word. He was sure a lot of kids in South Park wanted weed they could trust and didn’t need an ID for.
It wasn’t a plan that made Kenny feel great about himself, but it was all he had.
~*~
Kenny’s anger was reignited the next day, when he woke up at the ripe hour of eleven in the morning, after staying up until four scrolling for jobs. Karen was gone, meaning she’d taken the bus to school, and his stomach churned with guilt. It didn’t really matter, she got to school either way, but he was failing her.
Sometimes he thought that maybe it would be better for her if social services came and took her away, and Kenny was being selfish about it by fighting to keep her. Not that he had custody, but he was planning on getting it the second he turned eighteen. Maybe he shouldn’t bother and just make the call to CPS himself.
Or maybe that was selfish and just him trying to make her someone else’s problem that he didn’t have to deal with.
As if he wasn’t feeling bad enough, when Kenny had gone out to the kitchen he’d found his stupid crinkled up pink slip lying on the table, next to a half eaten Pop Tart. It must’ve fallen out of his coat or something, and Karen had picked it up.
Because that was just what he needed. For Karen to find out that he was a fuck up.
So Kenny did what seemed rational at the time; stuck the slip in his pocket, the Pop Tart in his mouth, and headed out on a war path with one very specific target.
Stanley Marsh.
He arrived at school just as their lunch period and stormed right into the cafeteria, where Stan was sat alone at their usual table.
"You asshole!" he yelled, gaining a few curious looks.
Stan looked up, because he was at least self aware, and pointed at himself. "Me?"
"Yes you!"
"What did I do?!"
Kenny slammed his pink slip down on the table, so forcefully it knocked over Stan’s stupid milk carton; seriously, what was it with him and milk? "You got me fired!"
Stan’s eyes went wide and he picked up the now soggy piece of paper. "How?!"
" How ?" Kenny mocked. "By following me around like a kicked puppy and not ordering anything other than a fucking glass of milk like some kind of toddler with a calcium deficit!"
"Hey! I just happen to like milk!"
Kenny groaned. "God! Can you take this seriously?"
"Okay! I’m sorry dude I didn’t think it was that big a deal!" Stan said, holding his hands up defensively.
"What am I meant to do about this?"
"Well what am I meant to do?"
Kenny faltered and gestured vaguely at Stan whilst he tried to come up with something. He couldn’t, so he just knocked the largely empty milk carton off of the table, snatched up his mushy pink slip, and marched back out.
Stan chased after him, because of course he did. "Ken, wait up okay?!"
Kenny stopped and turned to face Stan, who just stared at him like he hadn’t expected that to work. "What?"
"I um…" Stan sighed. "I’m really sorry."
"That doesn’t help!"
"I know but I— I don’t know what else to say!"
Kenny ran his hand down his face and turned away. It wasn’t even really Stan’s fault, it was probably inevitable, but he thought blaming him would be easier than blaming himself. It wasn’t. "It’s whatever, Stan. I just need to figure this out."
"Just… call me!" Stan yelled as he retreated down the corridor.
Kenny fought the urge to look back at him. He didn’t feel any better after yelling him; actually, he probably felt worse if that was even possible.
~*~
It was almost like the universe was laughing at Kenny this week, since the temperature dropped to a bone brittling number whilst he was walking back from Wall-Mart. He could’ve driven, but since he’d found himself in the unemployment line he was trying to save gas money. Besides when he’d left it had been fresh, sure, but manageable.
The only good thing that had come out of the whole ordeal was that he’d picked up a job application whilst he was there. He didn’t want to work at Wall-Mart, but needs must and all that jazz.
His drug ring wasn’t very effective. Tweek had brought Craig along and then forced him to accept a tip, probably out of pity, and Bebe’s stupid mom had decided to stop being a psycho bitch for some reason. Which was good, and as her friend Kenny was happy for her, but God it was bad for business. She’d promised to let her friends know, but Kenny wasn’t sure many of the girls would be up for traipsing to his certified trap house to buy weed. If he had more money he could expand, get his hands on some pills they might have more interest in, but to get money he had to sell drugs, so his problem was clear.
Kenny kicked the door shut behind him and dropped the bags on the kitchen table, then blew on his red fingers. His mittens were sitting ineffectively where he’d left them on the counter, practically taunting him. He pulled them over his shaking hands and looked around. No sign of either of his parents. This was day three of no contact with them, which probably made them officially MIA.
"Karen?" Kenny called out.
He heard her door click open. "Yeah?"
Kenny poked his head into the hallway and saw her standing in her doorway, wrapped in her blanket and a huge fleece lined hoodie Kevin had left behind that went down to her knees. Kenny had stolen it himself a fair few times. Maybe that’s why Kevin left it; some kind of present. "You okay?" Kenny asked.
Karen nodded. "A little cold but what else is new?"
Kenny huffed. "Yeah tell me about it." Karen came over to hug him, probably to steal his body warmth, and rested her head against his chest. Kenny ruffled her hair and took a strand between his fingers. "Your roots are growing out."
Ever since starting middle school Karen had been going through copious amounts of black and purple hair dye. Kenny couldn’t justify the cost so he usually just stole it, not that she knew that, but it was worth it for how happy it made her. Even if he didn’t really understand it.
"I figure money’s tight," Karen mumbled. "So I’ll just grow it out."
Kenny frowned and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. "Hey don’t worry about that. We can afford hair dye, Kar. You should’ve said I was just at Wall-Mart."
Karen hummed and pulled away. "Yeah well…" She shrugged and tugged the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. "Do you mind if I go over for dinner at Tricia’s?"
"You can do whatever you want," Kenny said. Then he frowned. "Within reason. Don’t take that and run with it."
Karen smiled and turned towards her room. "I’m gonna get ready then head out."
Kenny shot her a thumbs up and waited until she shut the door to sigh heavily. He should’ve been more careful about keeping getting sacked a secret. Now Karen was worrying about things she really shouldn’t be worrying about.
Kenny pushed into his own room and sat cross legged on his bed, still bundled up in his parka. He needed to do something about this, and fast. He’d apply for Wall-Mart but if that fell through… Well. The problem was that wasn’t the first job he’d been fired from since dying all the time made him a pretty unreliable employee. That meant he was flat out of options, unless he sold his body. He was pretty sure nobody would want it though.
Just as Kenny began seriously debating if he would be physically able to make a profit as a prostitute, he heard a knocking on his window. He looked over to see Stan stood outside the frosted glass. Kenny opened the window and leant out, shivering as a cold wind whipped through his hair. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to apologise," Stan said sheepishly. "I um… I feel really bad, man, I didn’t wanna get you fired I swear."
Kenny sighed. It wasn’t even really Stan’s fault in the first place. Maybe a little bit, but not totally. "I know. It’s okay, I was just taking it out on you."
"You’re just saying that."
Kenny shrugged and held his fingers close together. "Kinda."
"Let me get you dinner," Stan pleaded. "To make it up to you."
Kenny sighed and swung his leg out his window. "Fine. But I wanna go to that burger place."
"Oh man, seriously? That’s like half an hour away." Kenny started to haul himself back inside, only for Stan to grab onto his calf before he could. "Okay okay, we’ll go."
Kenny smiled sweetly. "So glad you changed your mind."
If there was one thing Kenny had learnt in his life, it was that he couldn’t afford to be proud when someone offered to buy him food. He also found it especially hard to put up a fight when Stan offered anyway. Kyle always pushed too hard, and Cartman could never resist making a stupid comment whilst he forked the cash over. But Stan was… subtler. He’d either silently hand over an extra sandwich at lunch or, as in this case, wait until he royally fucked up so Kenny felt like he was owed it.
So he didn’t mind when Stan automatically got him a large meal and a chocolate milkshake; it wasn’t pity, it was penance.
"Thanks," Kenny said anyway when they were sat in their corner booth; same side, both facing the door. Kenny had no idea why they’d chosen to sit like that, it wasn’t exactly conventional, but Stan’s thigh was pressed against his and he was warm so Kenny didn’t complain.
Stan waved a hand dismissively. "I figure I owed you," he said through a mouthful of meat and bread.
"Yeah you do."
Stan swallowed. "I really am sorry," he said. "By the way. I guess I didn’t think they’d care cause it was a Monday night and kind of dead."
Kenny sighed. "It’s fine. That manager was a bitch anyway."
"Was that Amanda?"
Kenny nodded. "How’d you know her name?"
"Because you complain about her a lot, and I listen when you do," Stan said.
"And here I was thinking I’d taken it all on the chin. Thought I was being all mature and shit."
Stan laughed. "No it’s okay. I like knowing what’s going on with you. I feel like you don’t catch us up very often."
"That’s because there’s not much to catch you up on," Kenny said. "It’s all work."
"What about when you joined the soccer team? You didn’t tell us literally until we asked why you’d disappeared that one night and you casually mentioned an away game."
Kenny chewed his burger thoughtfully. Maybe he didn’t always tell the others everything, but only because he kind of thought they didn’t care. Case in point, none of them had come to a single soccer game since, despite the fact Kenny was actually the team’s best striker. He’d outright asked Cartman once, just to be rewarded with a rant about how it wasn’t a real sport anyway.
"Well I still play soccer, if you were wondering."
"I figured. I hear you’re good."
"I am. Thinking about quitting though. It’ll help me find a new job if I can be flexible."
"That’s not fair."
"That’s capitalism." Kenny shrugged and licked ketchup off the heel of his hand. "What can you do?"
Stan sighed heavily and rested his head in his hands. "Yeah. Life sucks."
Kenny kicked him gently under the table. "Come on dude, you can’t compare my wrongful termination to your Wendy problem."
"I don’t have a Wendy problem!" Stan insisted, his voice laced with exasperation. "That… kind of is the problem."
"Okay I’ll bite. Why is that a problem? You know, since you’re totally over her now."
"The problem is that maybe I don’t miss her specifically but I miss having someone," Stan said, gesturing in short choppy motions as he explained. "And now she’s, like, winning."
"Winning."
"Yes. All breakups have a winner and a loser. Like Heidi and Cartman. Heidi won, he lost. Badly."
Kenny tilted his head in a short nod. He couldn’t argue with that. After they broke up for the very last time in eighth grade, Heidi had gone on to become Cartman’s worst nightmare; a hippie lesbian. It was almost poetic, really. "So Wendy’s winning because she’s got a fine new boyfriend and you’re single."
"Wendy’s winning because everyone assumes I’m hung up on her and not the other way around."
"Well Stan, Tolkien Black is South Park High’s most eligible bachelor. Or he was, I guess. Point is, I wouldn’t be hung up either. I also definitely wouldn’t kick him out of bed."
"There are very few people you would."
"Fair. I’d completely understand if he kicked me out of bed cause he’s way out of my league, how about that?" Kenny amended.
Stan groaned. "Not you too."
"You have your own charm. It’s just different."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah! You can’t let this get you so down, Stan. There’ll be other girls. I promise."
"I don’t know. Like you said," Stan gestured to himself. "Wet blanket."
"Some girls are into that," Kenny said lightly.
"Yeah right."
"Seriously, they might like your emo poetry or whatever."
Stan scoffed. "I do not write poetry."
Kenny raised his eyebrows and didn’t respond. Stan didn’t push it, even though he could probably tell Kenny didn’t really believe him, and they ate in silence. It was nice. Kenny liked that he could be quiet with Stan; he didn’t have to say anything, but if he did he’d always be heard. Maybe because Stan was quiet too, in a less literal sense. It was more like he kept his cards close to his chest.
The thing is, Kenny could still tell that Stan couldn’t see a life without Wendy. It made him sad, even though it didn’t really have anything to do with him, because the way he saw it anyway was that Stan could do so much better for himself.
And he didn’t mean that as a knock on Wendy. Kenny had tried to hate her for a while, right after the breakup when Stan had been full of vodka and vitriol, but he’d never been able to do it. She was razor sharp and funny and she didn’t talk to him like he was an idiot and she always had Advil in her purse. The problem was that she and Stan were just… never going to work. Sometimes Kenny thought that maybe if they met later on, when they were proper grown ups, it would be different. But as it was they’d run their course, and they needed things they couldn’t give each other.
Or at least that was Kenny’s opinion.
The door swung open, letting a gust of cold air in, and Kenny looked over to see Tweek and Craig coming through. He watched as they went up to the counter to order, and Tweek pulled out an enviably fat stack of cash that definitely wasn’t made up of tips from the coffee house. They’d managed to negotiate a commission from those weird yaoi artists, and they were basically rolling in it. Plus so many places in town had a gay discount now. It was kind of ridiculous, but so were most of South Park’s attempts at progressiveness and inclusivity.
"Man," Kenny muttered. "They’ve got a really sweet gig going since everyone pays them just to be up each other’s ass."
Stan snorted. "Yeah. It’s weird, though, right? How they have a bunch of girls who are so into them that they’d probably kill themselves if they broke up?"
"Apparently they’re called fujoshis," Kenny said. "Don’t ask me how I know that."
"You know what, Ken, I am gonna ask."
"I spend a lot of time with the girls. Some of them spend a lot of time online."
Stan shook his head, then watched Tweek and Craig leave, taking their food to go. "I guess it’s nice having a long relationship like that though. Really nice. And everyone’s too scared to question it cause they’d be called homophobic."
"Maybe you should get a gay boyfriend," Kenny suggested. "Then nobody would doubt you’re over Wendy."
"Maybe you should get a gay boyfriend," Stan shot back. "And your bills would basically pay themselves. Or you could sue for discrimination or something if anyone ever tries to fire you again."
Kenny huffed a laugh, then suddenly the tiniest seed of an idea planted itself in his mind. He chewed on his straw and tilted his head to the side as he considered. It was too crazy. Definitely not viable.
But then he looked over to see Stan’s brows furrowed and he was gnawing on his bottom lip like he always did when he was concentrating, and suddenly it seemed a little bit less outlandish.
"Are you thinking what I’m thinking?" Kenny asked.
Stan looked over at him. "I really doubt it, cause what I’m thinking is too weird."
Kenny narrowed his eyes. "It’s kind of too perfect though, isn’t it?"
"I mean… it is convenient."
"But it’s crazy."
"Yeah." Stan tapped his foot nervously and swallowed. "Is it? Because I mean… if I was gonna fake gay with someone it would be you."
"Same," Kenny said. Kyle was too uptight, no one would believe it, nobody would buy it with Cartman either, but for different reasons, and Butters had never even kissed someone before.
But Stan… Well. Stan was experienced and, objectively, a good boyfriend. He was sensitive and funny and holy shit maybe this could work.
"I’ll level with you here," Kenny said, setting his cup down and turning to face Stan directly. "I need some fucking cash, and you need to be able to call homophobia whenever someone questions your relationship status. So, like, I’m not saying we should pimp ourselves out to fujoshis but—"
"We should totally pimp ourselves out to fujoshis."
Kenny sighed. "Yeah. Basically."
Stan put his cup down too. "Do you think it’ll work?"
Kenny considered it. It would probably be difficult, but it wasn’t impossible. But there were also about nine trillion and one things that could go wrong. Not to mention the potential moral implications of the whole thing; Kenny had never left guys out of the equation but as far as he was aware Stan had entirely, so the whole going gay for pay thing was… questionable at best. Wendy would probably kill them if she found out.
"I don’t know," Kenny admitted. "But I know I’m desperate enough to give it a shot. Are you?"
Stan ran his tongue over his teeth then sighed heavily. "I can’t believe this but yeah. I really really am."
"Well in that case…" Kenny held his hand out and Stan shook it. "Congratulations Marsh. You’ve got yourself a boyfriend."