Broken ~ Craig x Kenny fic

2

"Shit, I'm so sorry, man!"

Kenny's body is shoved off mine and a hand pulls me to my feet. Kyle Broflovski quickly pats me down to get rid of any dust and bites his lip nervously.

Stan appears at the doorway, play station controller in one hand, energy drink in the other. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. His eyes go from me to Kenny, looking the guy up and down with a disgusted expression flashing briefly across his face.

"So is anyone gonna explain why I just got bulldozed over out of nowhere?" I ask, arms crossing in front of me.

Before Kyle can begin his nervous stream of unintelligible apologies, Kenny shoves past me to run into Stan's room. Ignoring Stan's complaints, he crouches by the door and suddenly vomits into their trash can. Kyle rushes over and drops to his knees beside him, pulling his hair out of his face and fishing a crumpled tissue out of his pocket to wipe anything from his mouth.

"Jesus, did you have to do that here?" Stan mutters.

Kyle slaps his leg, throwing him a scowl over his shoulder.

"Just saying..." Stan pouts.

Kyle slaps him again.

Kenny throws up a few more times. When he finally stops, he leans back into Kyle and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. I make a mental note to wash that jacket as soon as he falls asleep since that thing must be covered in shit. Stan offers him a half empty bottle of water and, to my surprise, he tells him not to worry about the trash can.

The blond runs a hand through his sweaty hair and finishes off the water, wincing as his throat burns.

"You good?" I ask.

"Fine." Kenny says, coughing immediately, causing Kyle to reach for the trash can again just in case, "Just give me a minute. I'm fine, honestly."

"Kenny you just randomly threw up, you're clearly not fine."

"Craig, I said I'm fine."

This stubborn little shit-

"Everythin' okay in here, fellas?"

Right now, that voice may as well be an angel gracing us from the heavens. He is just the person we need right now.

Butters is stood at the doorway, wringing his hands together as per usual. His shirt is stained with blood (hopefully old stains) and his jeans are tattered at the edges from where he cut them up to make shorts a few weeks ago when the heating in the place went crazy. As he's one of the only people in the gang with any kind of medical training, Butters is our go-to for injuries and illnesses, much to his annoyance since he isn't good with blood.

"I think something's wrong with Kenny. Could you take a look at him?" Kyle asks.

Kenny tries to protest again, but is cut short by the shorter blond pulling him to his feet and taking him out of the room with a skip in his step. He's always up for making a new friend and helping out around here since we keep him as far away from his father as he can get.

The last thing I see of Kenny is the distressed look he throws over his shoulder before the door closes behind him.

"Well, he made a very good first impression." Kyle nervously jokes.

"I'll replace the trash can, Stan. Get Jimmy to dispose of it since he's on trash duty this week." I tell Stan, who nods.

My phone suddenly starts buzzing in my pocket so I excuse myself to answer it. Judging by the 'no caller ID', it's either some kind of death threat from a smaller gang trying to act tough, or our suppliers calling to give their monthly update on their stock. They never give us their number in case we betray them and hand them in to the cops (not that we'd ever do that).

I sit on my bed and answer the call, "Yes?"

"Mr Tucker," The familiar bored voice of one of our suppliers greets me, "Usually we do our meetings across the phone but I think it's time we meet in person. We're having some... difficulties you might say."

"What kind of difficulties?" I ask, panic building up inside me. The situation with Tweek and Jimmy last night has me on edge, worried one of them might've done something to cause trouble.

"I'd rather explain it in person, you never know who could be listening in." The suppliers, particularly this one, appear to be extremely paranoid and prefer not to discuss majorly important details over the phone. A few times we've had to go to random locations to meet some of their contacts to pick up handwritten letters containing the information. They're so extra I swear. "Would it be okay if you came to us?"

This must be a big deal. We've never met the suppliers themselves before.

"Sure. Whatever makes you most comfortable."

"We'll send someone over with a meeting place by tomorrow. No more than five people and no weapons. If our conditions are broken we'll have no choice but to call the entire thing off."

Wow, a little extreme but hey, gotta respect their boundaries.

"Of course. Like I said, whatever makes you comfortable."

"Well then, Mr Tucker. I look forward to seeing you."

And with that, the call is ended. So I guess we're meeting the suppliers tomorrow. Interesting