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uas-fics · 5 years

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Title: Beer and Expectations

Rating: T

Summary: Stan’s birthday party is ruined so he goes behind the library to sulk

Ships: Stenny

Content warning: Underage drinking

Other: For @stenny-week prompts birthday and addiction

Read on one Ao3

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Ever since he turned ten, Stan didn't like his birthday. Something always went wrong, and eight years after the first catastrophe, nothing had changed a bit.

His dad showed up, high as normal, and shoved a crudely wrapped box into his hands. In front of all his friends, Stan opened the box to find it empty save for a crumpled plastic wrapper.

With the dumbfounded expression that long ago became his norm, his dad demanded to know who ate Stan's gift and proceeded to blame every person there and several who weren't before Stan could usher him to the guest room and out of everyone's line of sight.

When he returned, faces of pity or mocking amusement locked on to him.

Most of the pity came from his friends, the people he'd actually invited to the party. The mocking amusement came from everyone else. He wasn't sure how the football team got wind of his party, but when they did, nothing he could say would stop them from showing up--and bring their romantic partners with them.

His embarrassment lasted until he waved goodbye to the last guest and well into the night.

Which was why he sat in the back corner behind the library, curled up into himself with tears in his eyes. He didn't try to blink them away or hide them. The light on that side of the building burnt out a while ago. No one could see him.

"Hey."

Stan looked up as a can rolled across the snow and hit his shoe.

Kenny held up a box in one hand and an open beer can in the other as he walked over.

"If I share, can I join you?" He asked, already taking a seat. He held his can to his mouth and spat his chewing tobacco into it before rolling it away. Some brown sloshed onto the snow. Stan wrinkled his nose in disgust. Kenny paid it no mind.

He settled the large box between them. The box had been torn open. Not along the perforated edged, but randomly at the top as if someone stabbed a knife into it then started ripping.

Stan took the can by his shoe and settled in it into the snow by his side before reaching for one that wasn't shaken up.

"Happy birthday, but," Kenny started, cracking open a beer can, "that party of yours..."

"It sucked." Stan wiped his eyes on the heel of his hand.

"I was going to say it had a good cake, but I guess that works too." Kenny took a drink, and they lapsed into silence.

Stan glanced at Kenny, who leaned back against the brick wall, the yellow glow of the streetlamp on that side of the building bathing him.

He'd acknowledged for years he had a crush on Kenny, but he wasn't sure if Kenny knew about it or not. Stan had confessed once, but he couldn't say if it was in real life or a dream.

They had been drinking at Kenny's house. His parents were out, Karen at a friend's, and Kevin was the one who got them the bottle in the first place before leaving with his girlfriend.

All Stan remembered was pinning Kenny down while wrestling over the remote, becoming flustered, kissing him on the neck, and admitting his feelings right then and there.

He blinked and the next thing he knew he was back in his room with a headache.

If he did confess and it wasn't a dream, Kenny didn't say anything about it, so he couldn't be sure.

Kenny took a long drink, tilting his head back. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He didn't even hide the can's label.

No one cared if Kenny was drinking behind the library. He wasn't on any sports teams or in any extracurricular school activities, unlike Stan. If Stan got caught drinking beer at eleven at night, his coach would chew his ass out and he'd be benched for a couple of games. His scholarship chances couldn't risk that.

Kenny took another drink. Without turning his head, he said, "You're staring, Staniel."

Stan chuckled but didn't look away.

"How does it feel?" He asked without thinking. "How does it feel knowing no one cares what you do?"

Kenny started. He turned towards Stan with a frown.

"Did you really just ask me how it feels to have no one care about me?"

"What? No, I mean," Stan waved his hand at him, "no one cares that you're out here drinking when your underage."

"I'm not underage in Japan," Kenny pointed out. "Remember, I am a Japanese princess."

"You weren't of age when we started drinking together two years ago," Stan countered with a snort.

"Are you calling me an alcoholic?" Kenny laughed, gently punching Stan's arm.

"Takes one to know one." Stan raised his beer. "Now stop dodging the question."

Kenny looked down at his can and sighed. "It's nice to be invisible sometimes, but, it sucks, too. No one cares because they don't expect much from me more than a stupid hick to begin with."

"That's because they don't know you. Remember the score you got on the SATs? One point away from a full-ride scholarship."

Stan remembered how the high school counselor stared at Kenny when he told her what score he got with a shrug. He'd always done so-so on the practice tests, but when the actual test came around, he aced it. Stan was sure the counselor still thought Kenny must have cheated somehow. He didn't, of course. Kenny could excel if he applied himself.

"They don't know me, but they know my dad." Kenny screwed his beer down into the snow.

Stan flinched, taking his attention back to his can.

The embarrassment that his own dad brought him surged back to life. His ears burned hot.

"Dude, I'm scared."

"Scared? Of what, Stan?"

"Of being my dad." Stan squeezed his knees to his chest. "What if I turn out like him? We might joke about being alcoholics, but, we still have got together nearly every week since we were sixteen to drink and bitch." Stan didn't mention he'd been sneaking booze from his dad for longer than that, though he didn't know why. Kenny had done the same. He wouldn't judge.

"’Tegrity Farms might have cost him his marriage, but he'd still rolling in the dough. Your dad is successful." Kenny stretched out, hands slipping in his pockets. "My dad knocked up a teenager when he was in his late twenties and hasn't held a study job for more than a year."

He nestled down into his fluffy coat hood. "I'm scared I'll end up like him. Do something stupid and irresponsible and ruin two peoples' lives because I did something impulsive."

"You're not stupid enough to go down on a girl without protection," Stan offered. "And you're not really that irresponsible either."

Kenny gave him a half-smile. "Does it matter? It only takes one time, and, boom, I end up being just like my dad, and his dad, and his dad. A poor man in a shitty house with a wife that hates me because I took her future from her and saddled us with a kid we can't take care of."

In the light from the streetlamp, tears glinted in his eyes. He blinked them away, but they didn't stop. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes on his jacket. Even with the tears mostly gone, the whites of his eyes still remained pink.

[Img description: the above scene of Stan and Kenny sitting side by side at a corner in the snow with a box between them]

"Better than a rich man in a big house with a whole family that hates you." Stan scooted the beer box aside before sitting next to Kenny. "My dad has no one. He just kept fucking everything up thinking it would make him happy and everyone else would rise above his mistakes and forgive him. I don't think he ever considered that he could lose Mom or me or Shelley like he did."

Kenny wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Let's just agree both our dads suck dick." Kenny laughed.

"Ah, yeah, dude," Stan agreed. He reached back around for his beer as Kenny stared at him. Something behind his eyes made his skin prickle, but not uncomfortably.

Kenny leaned over, setting a hand on his shoulder, close to the curve of his neck.

"You know," He breathed, the scent of beer and wintergreen on his breath, "it would be pretty hard to have a wife that hates you, if you don't have a wife at all."

"What are you...?"

Before Stan could finish, Kenny slipped his hand up to his cheek and leaned in. Both their lips were chapped from the cold air, but Stan didn't complain. It was nice. No expectations, no assumptions, just one of his closest friends kissing him.

Kenny jerked back suddenly, his face red from more than the chill in the air.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't even think." He shook his head. "Fuck, dude, I'm really sorr--"

Stan grabbed his thick jacket and pulled him back into another kiss.

"Don't be," He panted, feeling better than he had all day. "I needed that. I, uh, I like you, dude. More than just a friend so, don't be sorry."

Kenny smiled wryly. "What? No Shakespearean monologue this time? This is one of your weaker confessions."

"One of them?" Stan wrinkled his brow. "I've confessed before? So it wasn't a dream?"

"You confess your love for me all the time, man. It's how I judge when you're at your limit since you get all clingy and kissy and shit before you puke and pass out."

Stan blushed. At least Kenny hadn’t had to turn him down thousands of times every time Stan confessed for the ‘first’ time.

I..." He glanced at the box beside them. "I think we should stop this. The, you know, all this."

"What?" Kenny blinked. "But we've been drinking for two years. Are you getting sober on me, Staniel?"

"Maybe we should? Get sober, I mean." Stan shrugged, "Your SAT scores will get you into any college you want. There are college scouts at almost every game anymore." He tightened his grasp on his jacket. "Maybe we can outdo our dads. Prove everyone wrong by being successful and happy."

"You know that'll be hard, right? Both college and getting sober?" Kenny coughed a laugh. "What are you even really suggesting? We work together towards a common goal as boyfriends?"

He laughed again, but there was an extra edge to it. A nervousness about the answer that Stan was happy to quell.

"Yeah. Exactly that." He nodded, jokingly batted his eyelashes at him. "Please, Kenny, for me? It is my birthday today."

Kenny craned his head down the street towards the electronic sign at the gas station.

"Actually, your birthday ended about five minutes ago," Kenny stated matter of factly then offered a crooked smile, "but I guess this could be a late present if you don't mind."

Stan couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"I don't mind at all."

#stenny #stenny week #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #one-shot

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