Chapter Text
The first time Kendall ever goes to McDonald’s, he’s sixteen. He’s sitting on Stewy’s bed, sipping on whiskey that he stole from Mr. Hosseini’s liquor cabinet, watching the way Stewy bites his lip in concentration as he stares at his homework. It’s hard to tear his eyes away, and it doesn’t help that he’s already buzzed. That always makes it so hard not to make the mistakes he craves.
Stewy glances up and catches his eye, smiling. “See something pretty, Ken?”
Kendall’s cheeks burn as he clears his throat and looks down. Yes, absolutely, yes is the correct answer, but he can’t say that. Stewy has always been like this, and not just with him. He’s forward and flirty to the bone, and Ken just has to act like it doesn’t make him wild. As far as anyone knows, he absolutely does not stay up at night and think about what it would be like to have Stewy laying right next to him, or what his hands would feel like on Stewy’s chest, or how soft his lips might be.
“Nope,” Kendall replies, taking another swig before setting the bottle on Stewy’s desk. “Just some smug fucking asshole.”
“Love you too, Kenny,” Stewy says, and Ken doesn’t have time to let his brain malfunction before he adds, “Wanna get some food?”
Kendall nods, his eyes fixated on Stewy’s hands as he reaches out and grabs his car keys from the corner of his desk. God, this is pathetic. He shouldn’t have had so much to drink. “Uh, yeah, sure. What… Uh, what are we getting?”
Stewy shrugs. “Favorite drunk food?”
“Huh?”
“What’s your favorite drunk food?”
Kendall shakes his head. “I dunno. I usually just have someone grab take out. I guess I’ve had Le Cirque a lot, that’s, like… pretty good, I guess.”
Stewy just stares at him, gaping. “ Le Cirque. You get wasted and you get fucking escargot? Never heard of McDonald’s?”
“Never been.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Dad never let us. I guess he thinks he’s too good for it or something.”
Stewy scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he would. Come on, we’re getting you a fucking Big Mac.”
When they pull into the parking lot, Kendall can’t help but smile. It’s humiliating, really, the way the giant yellow arches, real and in person, make him feel like a little kid again.
“The fuck are you grinning at?” Stewy asks, smirking over at Kendall as they get into the drive thru line.
“Nothing,” Kendall responds, shaking his head. He even goes so far as to cover his mouth to hide the smile. He shouldn’t be this ecstatic over something so small. He could buy the entire chain and barely make a dent in his wallet, and he’s freaking out over a shitty little burger.
“Dude, what?”
Kendall shakes his head, and he doesn’t mean to say what spills out of his mouth, but the alcohol seems to have blocked the part of his brain that tells him to shut up.
“It’s dumb. But I used to see these commercials on TV when I was kid, y’know? And I saw the stupid happy meals in their stupid fucking boxes, and I saw how happy those little toys made those kids, and the moms and dads in them were always smiling and hugging their children and I just—I looked at those commercials and I just thought… that’s a family. And I thought, like, if I could just get one of those little boxes, it would solve everything. So I asked my dad if we could go get one. And he said, ‘McDonald’s is a poor man’s burger, now fuck off.’ So obviously I never asked again, but now I’m here and, like—” He looks over and finds Stewy staring at him. He’s smiling, but there’s this sad look in his eyes, like he can see right through the bullshit and into Kendall’s messy brain. “—Yeah, it’s fucking stupid, I told you.”
Stewy opens his mouth to respond, but the car in front of them pulls forward, and it’s their turn to order.
“What can I get you?” the voice on the speaker asks.
Stewy winks at Kendall before turning to order. “Yeah, uh… Lemme get a fucking happy meal.”
They sit in that parking lot for hours. The food can hardly be categorized as food, but Ken eats every bite of it like he’ll never be fed again, and then they go through again a couple hours later so he can try a Big Mac.
“So? What do you think?” Stewy asks when he takes his first bite.
“My dad was right,” Kendall responds, taking a sip of his Coke. “I mean, the bread tastes like cardboard and the meat tastes like plastic. And the fries are soggy.”
Stewy just raises his eyebrows. “And?”
“I fucking love it,” Kendall says as he stuffs another bite in his mouth.
Stewy’s laugh is like music in his ears, the way he throws his head back and cackles. And Kendall once again finds himself unable to tear his eyes away. He’s sobered up now, but he wishes he wasn’t. At least if he was still wasted he’d have an excuse for his eyes lingering on the way Stewy’s lips turn up when he smiles.
Stewy starts talking again—something about his dad dragging him on another golf trip—but Kendall isn’t processing any of it. All he can seem to do is look. He probably has every crevice of Stewy’s face memorized already, but somehow he wants to know more. Stewy’s whole demeanor is so loose, one leg resting on the seat under him as he leans against his door. Ken watches the way his fingers drum on the steering wheel, how his mouth moves to form his words. His eyes. His hair. All of him. He could look at him forever.
He doesn’t realize that Stewy has finished his story and the car has gone quiet until Stewy speaks up again. This time, he hears every word.
“Are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna kiss me, Ken?”
His stomach drops, face immediately going hot. “I—What?”
And then, miraculously, Stewy is leaning closer, his face inching closer and closer as Kendall tenses up. He can feel the tips of Stewy’s fingers dragging along his shoulder and up to the side of his face. So many thoughts, all so fast, race through his brain. Oh my God and is this really happening and this absolutely cannot happen and finally and Dad is going to kill me.
Stewy’s hand is on his cheek, lips centimeters apart. His eyes dart away before coming back to Ken. And when he speaks, it’s the first time Kendall senses his nerves and hesitation, the curtain of confidence fallen for just a moment.
“Just… Let me know if I’m reading this all wrong, okay?” Stewy asks, eyes pleading.
No matter how desperately he wants to, Kendall can’t bring himself to surge forward and finally see what Stewy’s lips feel like. Every move he’s ever made in his life has been calculated, and he can’t risk the impulsivity now. He can’t be the one to initiate this. He wants to shake his head, but he’s scared that any sudden movement will send Stewy further away.
Instead he whispers, his voice cracking as he does. “You’re not.”
And just like that, it’s happening. Stewy’s lips are on his and Ken’s hands are in his hair, and it’s like suddenly he can breathe. Everything about it feels inevitable, like pieces falling into place.
Stewy must see the terror in Kendall’s eyes when they pull apart.
“This isn’t—I can’t—I shouldn’t—” he starts, but Stewy shakes his head, exuding confidence again.
“Hey. Ken. This doesn’t have to be a big thing, okay? It can just be a thing. Alright?”
Kendall takes a deep breath, the feeling of Stewy’s hands in his like a drug. “Yeah. Right. Okay.”
The McDonald’s parking lot quickly becomes their sacred space. Countless nights spent over fries and milkshakes, hours lying in the backseat, hiding together in the darkened parking lot, the only place Kendall allows himself to touch another boy.
And the bad nights too.
The one where Stewy stares out the window and says that he told his parents he’s gay. Kendall tries not to wince when he hears the word. It’s not something they’ve ever talked about, and it doesn’t feel right to hear in the context of himself, but he ignores the gnawing fear of the word itself and listens to Stewy.
His tone is so empty as he tells Kendall about his parents’ reaction, that they didn’t reject him but they didn’t exactly accept him. They would hardly look at him for the rest of that day, and Stewy decided not to bring it up again. They’d all just pretend it didn’t happen.
And the first of many times Kendall decides to play it safe with a girl. He’d met her at a conference Logan took him to so he could get a feel for the business. She was the daughter of a shareholder, on the same trip for the same reason. It felt like fate. But mostly it felt safe.
Sasha was beautiful and funny, and he loved that he was allowed to flirt with her in public. So when he came home from the conference and sat with Stewy in the parking lot, he told him that they couldn’t see each other like that anymore.
“We have to go back to normal.”
“Normal,” Stewy repeats, dumbfounded. “That’s what you’re going with.”
“Yeah, Stewy. Normal. I can’t…” He gestures between them. “I can’t do this shit anymore. It’s not me.”
“Actually, Ken, it is you,” Stewy scoffs, throwing his half eaten burger in the bag and looking like he might throw up.
Kendall shakes his head, eyes burning with tears. “No, it… It can’t be me, okay? I can’t be, like… I—I can’t be—”
“Like me,” Stewy finishes. “You can’t be like me.” He laughs, a seething, incredulous sound, and shakes his head. “You fucking prick.”
And the pain in his eyes is almost enough to make Kendall change his mind. Almost. But his father’s voice is in the back of his head, calling the queers on the news all sorts of words that Ken is terrified to have thrown in his direction.
A few months later, after Sasha breaks up with Kendall, he comes crawling back. They find their pattern like that. It becomes an unspoken agreement. They start dating girls—Kendall to distract himself from Stewy, and Stewy to appease his parents—and they stay friends, acting like they don’t know exactly how the other likes to be touched. But between relationships, it’s only them.
Until they leave for college, where they have the safety of their dorm to hide in, McDonald’s becomes their holy ground. Over burgers and fries and Coke, they always come back to each other.