Written as a bit of a belated tribute to National Coming Out Day 2006. Crack!fic. Rated PG-13 for naughty language.
Out
They're fifteen when they decide to take the plunge. Kyle tells his Mom first, who clucks her tongue and gives him a hug and then starts babbling about nothing but PFLAG and Pride marches and how lots of Jewish people are gay. Kyle kind of wants to throw himself out a window when she starts collecting the bumper stickers, but he knows his mom well enough to not get too caught up in her latest pet project.
Stan comes out to his family kind of on accident when Shelly walks in on him checking out gay porn on his laptop. "You're a gay turd," she splutters, and tells his mom because Shelly hasn't gotten laid since the time she almost got some from that Skyler dude and is a total bitch. His parents are less antagonistic, though Stan wouldn't sit through his dad's awkward – not to mention, graphic – lecture on safe sex again if somebody paid him a hundred bucks.
It's a sunny autumn day, as warm as it'll probably get in October in South Park, as they park their bikes at the top of the Cartmans' driveway. Kyle takes a deep breath and rubs his hands together nervously, and Stan pats him on the shoulder reassuringly. "Let's just do this," he says. "Get it over with. We agreed that it'd be better once it's out in the open, remember?"
"I know, dude." Kyle sighs and looks at Stan with renewed determination. He nods, and Stan knows it means he's as ready as he'll ever be for this. Together they make their way to the front stoop; Stan rings the doorbell, and it depresses with a loud chime, followed by the sound of scuffling.
Cartman at fifteen doesn't look – or act, unfortunately - a whole hell of a lot different than he did at nine, give or take about six inches in height. "What are you guys doing here?" he asks, his heavy-set face arranged in its usual sneer-grin combination. In the background, the sounds of Terrance & Philip emanate from the television. Very little has changed about Cartman, really.
"We, uh, we'd like to talk to you about something," Stan says, still the braver of the two. Cartman looks nonplussed. "It'll only take a couple of minutes, and then you can get back to whatever you were doing," he adds quickly.
Cartman considers this and then moves aside. "Make it quick," he says, and they move past him, not really caring that he doesn't offer them a seat or any of Cheesy Poofs he's poured into a large green bowl on the coffee table. "So what's so important that it couldn't wait until we were actually forced to be in the same room together?" Cartman demands, shoveling a handful of Poofs into his mouth.
Stan and Kyle look at each other. "Well," Stan pipes up, not wanting to lose his nerve now, "we … I don't know if you realize it, but it's National Coming Out Day."
"The day commemorates the anniversary of Second National March on Washington for Gay & Lesbian Rights," Kyle interjects, prattling off the facts he'd found in one of his mom's PFLAG pamphlets which now litter the Broflofski residence. "On October 11th, 1987, over five hundred thousand people marched to raise awareness about gay and lesbian rights and equality."
"So what does this have to do with you interrupting Terrance & Philip?" Cartman says boredly, his shirt speckled with orange Cheesy Poof powder. He makes a show of noisily smacking his lips.
"Well," Stan takes over again. "We, uh … it's actually very relevant for Kyle and I. For us. Because we're … we're gay."
Cartman stops licking his fingers to gape at them. "What did you just say?" he asks dumbly.
Kyle squares his shoulders. "We're gay, Cartman," he repeats bravely. "We're gay, and because you're our friend, or something, we wanted to tell you before you found out some other way." He glances sidelong at Stan, both of them unsure where to go from here.
In the span of mere seconds, Cartman's expression runs the gamut from annoyance to confusion to what could only be described as shit-eating glee. "Holy shit," he finally yells, his mouth twisted into a horrible grin. "Oh man, this is fucking sweet," he crows.
"It is?" Stan and Kyle chorus, baffled.
"Yeah!" Cartman exclaims. "Kenny and I had a bet going about this for two years. That poor piece of crap owes me twenty bucks now!"
"What? You bet on us being gay?" Stan says indignantly, his hands instinctively balling into fists.
"C'mon, like it wasn't totally obvious, you guys," Cartman snorts. He glances at the two boys in a way that makes them squirm. "So which one of you pitches and which one catches?" he continues.
"That's none of your business," Kyle glares.
"It's okay, Kyle, everyone knows Jews can't top anyway. Oh, man." Cartman's eyes are alight with mischief. "Now I don't know whether to rip on you for being Jewish or a homo!" His cackling quickly turns into coughing, however, when Kyle rears up and kicks him square in the nuts. "Ow, fuck!" he groans, doubled over in pain.
"How about taking a good look in the mirror, fat boy?" Kyle says angrily. "You just got pwned by a fag AND a Jew." Stan's bracing hand on his forearm is a calming presence, and he takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Okay," he says, mostly to himself. "See you Monday, assface," he calls to Cartman.
"Later, dickholes," Cartman tosses back.
"Well," Stan says brightly as the door closes behind them. "That went better than I expected."