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Of Birthdays and Relationships

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Music sounded loudly throughout Stan Marsh’s house. It was mostly death metal with words unintelligible to anyone who hadn’t read the lyrics. The tv was playing loudly with video games on the screen and other teenagers, anywhere from fourteen to nineteen, were drinking, smoking, and having a good time. Stan had a half full bottle of Jameson in his hand which he’d been drinking straight for the last ten minutes or so. It was amazing how much alcohol the eighteen-year-old could intake but then again, he came from a family with odd but amazing skills. He greeted new people at the door with slurred words and turned around again. He was feeling really good about everything tonight. His parents weren’t home, Shelley was off at college, and he had all the freedom in the world. He started to walk around, stumbling over his own feet occasionally. The only thing that would make tonight better was if he could find his super best friend. “K-Ky?” He called, “Ky-el.” He called, finding it difficult to say Kyle’s name.

Kyle sat alone in the kitchen. He’d just finished his last shot of whiskey and his cheeks were rosy. He decided he had had enough for the night. He had left his fuzzy green trapper on the table and tangled his fingers in his kinky curly red hair. It was a school night and he had a test damn tomorrow morning. He knew if he went to school hungover he would flunk and that was just unacceptable for himself. It was a bummer too, because he was having a lot of fun. He released his hair, grabbed his hat and prepared to tell Stan he was ready to turn in for the night. He stood up, and the walls did waves. “Ooh.” He groaned as he closed his eyes. Maybe he had already pushed his limits. He had decided he definitely needed to go to bed when he heard his name, or something close to it, being called. “Huh?” He called out in reply. When he opened his green eyes, the room was back to normal.

Making his way to the kitchen, Stan smiled to himself and stumbled as he passed Butters and someone else making out on the stairs. He vaguely heard Cartman and Heidi getting into a heated argument about something, but then again, when were they not? When Stan saw Kyle, the biggest, stupidest grin he could muster forced its way out of his lips despite not being able to feel his mouth. Immediately he almost felt like throwing up as his heart thumped loudly in his chest. Man, fucking liquor makes me feel weird around Kyle. He walked up to the red headed teen and placed his right hand on Kyle’s left shoulder to steady himself. He took another swig of Jamie and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Dude...dude, why...” He began, then thought of his words. “Why are you all alone?” He asked, looking around the kitchen. It had been abandoned for the time being.

“I dunno dude.” He replied honestly as he shrugged his shoulders. He hadn’t realized there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen with him. “But I gotta go home.” He admitted putting a hand to Stan’s stomach to help steady him. “You got yourself fucked up dude. You are going to regret it tomorrow.” He added thoughtfully with a small smile. “Maybe I should help you into bed before I leave?” He worried about his friend trying to make it up the stairs drunk and alone. He could only imagine his friend falling down the stairs and winding up with a broken neck. That shit happened all the time in South Park. Fuck he hated it here. He needed to do well in school so he could get the fuck outta Dodge.

“Nah, nah, I gotta clean before Randy and Sharon come home.” Stan slurred, wobbling a bit. The Irish whiskey in the Jameson bottle sloshed a bit but it was low enough that there was no worry of it spilling unless it was dropped. “All...also, you can’t leave. This party is bumpin.’ Everyone’s making out and arguing. Fuckin’ even Butters is kissin’ on someone.” Stan laughed boisterously. He was probably a lot louder than he meant to be. It was so difficult to control his volume. “You can’t go. Like, if you’re tired, sleep here. I’ll let you sleep in bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Becoming apprehensive, Kyle said, “I’ll get in so much shit if my mom finds out...” But as he thought about it, maybe spending the night at Stan’s would be the best thing. He pulled out his phone and texted his mom so she wouldn’t worry. He slipped it back into his jeans pocket and then wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist. “Alright, cool dude. I’ll just spend the night here...but we have to go to bed. We all have tests tomorrow.” He reminded Stan. “Wait, Butters is making out with someone too?” He asked, definitely surprised. “Why am I not making out with anyone?” He wondered aloud in mock curiosity. “Oh yeah, it’s because I’m the only one being anal about school tomorrow morning. You know, in six hours.” He stressed vocally.

“Don’t...don’t worry.” Stan grinned, closing his eyes. He smiled so big the tops of his cheeks made his eyes turn into little crescent moons. With Kyle’s palm against his stomach it reacted by doing little weird flipflops. “I-I happen to k-know...” Stan hiccupped as he tried to ignore the nausea wash over him. “Know that this test you’re so scared of right now, you’ll fuckin’ do so good.” He told his best friend. “You do so damned fuckin’ good at all the stuff you do.” He noted with sincerity. “Now c’mon.” He grabbed Kyle’s hand, walked them both to the living room and looked around at all his friends. Seriously, who is makin' out with Butters? Was Butters fuckin' moanin'? “Fuck.” Stan stared for a moment and then turned around. . He noticed Craig and Tweek pouring a couple more glasses for themselves. Both of their eyes were bloodshot and they looked to be enjoying themselves. “H-hey hey hey,” Stan hiccupped loudly enough for everyone to look at him. He let go of Kyle’s hand and walked to the stereo to down the volume. “Get out.” He slurred. “I’ve had a shit ton of fun but everyone needs to leave so I can go to sleep.”

With that, people started nodding their heads. Tweek clutched his shirt and looked to Craig. “-Ngh!- Shit man, I have a fucking test tomorrow, Jesus Christ!” He shrieked and looked around him. “How the fuck can I take a test if all I can see are -nng!- the underpants gnomes?!”

Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek comfortingly and shook his head, “Don’t worry babe. Everything will be alright.” He droned out as he pulled Tweek along with him to leave. "You can stay over with me."

There were some additional moans and groans from people who did not want to leave the party but everyone began to pile out.

Stan smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah, tests and shit. Everyone, get out.” He repeated and began to show everyone the door.

Once all of their peers were out, Stan looked to Kyle. “S-see, everyone is...” He hiccupped, “Everyone is gone now.” He smiled that big, doofus like grin again.

Kyle nodded as he relaxed a little more. His hands rested on his hips as he turned around and looked at the state of the house. It was a fucking wreck. “C’mon dude, we gotta clean this shit before we go to bed.” He stooped over and began to pick up trash, empty beer cans and liquor bottles. Kyle walked to the kitchen and dumped what he had in his hands in the trash can. He picked up the can and walked back to the living room so he could more easily clean up.

It wasn’t long before he wiped down some of the beer spilled on the walls as well as the puke on the floor. Despite being grossed out, Kyle still managed to keep his cool and clean it all up. “There dude.” He hummed quietly as he made it over to Stan who seemed to barely hold his composure. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

That stupid smile never left Stan’s rosy red face. The eighteen-year-old felt good. He felt guilty for not helping Kyle clean but he could barely move without falling over so he’d gone and sat on the couch while his best friend picked up. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the other teen as he cleaned and it made Stan want to hurl in the best possible way. His heart quaked every time his green orbs fell on him. “You gonna hold m-my hand?” Stan murmured, reaching his left hand out in attempts to grab onto Kyle. He squeezed his fingers open and shut, motioning that he wanted Kyle like a child, he hoped his friend would take the hint. Standing up from the couch, Stan closed his eyes for a moment and almost stumbled backwards. He held tightly onto the bottle of Jameson and grabbed onto the arm of the couch to catch himself. Eyes still closed he reached it up to his lips to take another drink. Some of it spilled onto his shirt but he grinned as he drank a little more. Whiskey was good.

Kyle grabbed Stan’s hand as he rolled his eyes. “Dude, I think you’ve had enough. You are so wasted.” He scoffed as he held onto Stan’s hand tightly and carefully led him up the stairs. They took it one step at a time. Kyle made it halfway and felt a little dizzy himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, preventing himself from swaying. Once a few seconds passed by, Kyle opened his eyes again and the house stabilized itself once again. He led Stan up the stairs and to his room, looking back and checking up on him every so often to ensuring his best friend was still standing and not throwing up or something. Kyle pushed open Stan’s bedroom door and pulled Stan along, closing the door behind him.

“H-hey, we’re in my room.” Stan slurred and looked to Kyle, stumbling backward a bit. “And it’s super quiet in here.” He looked around, then to his own bed. A smile crossed his face. “Bed...I fucking missed you, Bed.” He spoke to his bed as if it were a person. He then turned to Kyle. “Kyle...I fucking missed you too dude.” He mumbled, taking a step toward his best friend and placed his hands on Kyle’s shoulders with a wide grin. “So, like...we’re all alone now.” He commented, wrapping his arms around Kyle’s neck. “I been wantin’ to talk to you all night but couldn’t ever see you.”

Kyle put his hands firmly to Stan’s hips and tried to push the taller boy away. “Yeah dude, that’s because I was in the kitchen.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. He looked out the window and grimaced at the smell of Stan’s breath. It smelled heavily like a mix between a bit of weed and Jameson. It wasn’t that it smelled all that horrible but he shouldn’t be close enough to smell his best friend’s breath. “Dude.” Kyle finally said, his brow furrowed as he looked right at Stan, meeting his deep blue eyes with his green ones. “What’s wrong with you?” He growled, growing frustrated. His heart fluttered up into his throat as he watched those half-lidded blue eyes watching him through thick black lashes.

“Dude, I fucking love you.” Stan hummed softly, looking right into Kyle’s eyes the best his own inebriated ones would let him. He stumbled a little bit at the attempt to push him but Stan stood his ground, again to the best of his abilities. Stan was tall, broad, decently strong in stature. He was the star quarterback for the South Park Cows so that really did stand for something. It helped him keep his balance when Kyle had tried to push him away. “I really fucking love you but I can’t let you know that.” He admitted with a sheepish, drunk grin. He leaned forward without warning and placed his chapped lips to Kyle’s smooth ones; his grin when he kissed his friend never left. God, it just felt so nice. So fucking right. Finally, he was kissing someone and that someone was Kyle. Stan felt like throwing up as nausea started settling in, making a home in the pit of his stomach and Stan couldn’t tell if it was because of Kyle or because he’d been drinking. Still, he moved his arms even with them being heavy as they seemed, around Kyle’s neck.

What the hell? Kyle’s stomach flipped and his heart suddenly went wild in his chest. This was his best friend. Super best friend. What was he supposed to do? He stood there for a moment, watching Stan, whose eyes had fluttered closed. He looked so peaceful, happy even, and super, super fucking drunk. Kyle’s face flushed with color that matched his hair and his ears were hot to the touch. He was almost mad at first but he couldn’t find it in his swooning heart to stay that way. He took in a deep breathe through his nose and forced his eyes closed. He pushed his lips against Stan’s just to make his taller best friend happy. His heart hammered in his chest so hard it almost hurt and he was sure for a moment that maybe he was having a heart attack. If he didn’t want it then why was his heart taking a giant shit?

When Kyle kissed him back, Stan grew excited. He began to peck gently at Kyle’s lips, trying to get the other teen to open up to him. His arms tightened around Kyle’s neck and he couldn't help but grin. He moved his head a bit to begin covering Kyle’s face in more kisses, starting at the side of his lips and moving up to his cheeks, forehead, nose and down back to Kyle’s lips. His kisses were drunken and sloppy. Kyle was warm which thrilled the wasted quarterback.

Kyle was complete thrown off guard. He thought maybe it was a joke: Cartman was probably hiding in the closet videotaping this and Kenny snickering under Stan’s bed. Stan genuinely seemed excited, though, and was really into it. Kyle had no words for how he felt. He kissed Stan back a few times but he kept his hands to Stan’s hips to maintain their distance apart. Stan was bigger, stronger than he was and it was difficult fighting against the drunken teen. He felt as though his entire body was engulfed in flames, all lit on fire. Every nerve ending was on edge, acutely aware of the static that lit through the air. Goosebumps ran down his legs and arms and, holy fucking shit, it was kind of turning him on. He finally caved and opened his mouth to the kiss Stan kept wanting.

Giggling when Kyle finally opened his mouth, Stan captured Kyle’s bottom lip in his own and sucked for a moment before letting go. The kisses he gave his best friend were sloppy and drunken but he enjoyed the feeling of Kyle’s soft lips against his own more than he ever thought possible. He could feel the tug of the front of his torn-up jeans. Stan licked lightly at Kyle’s mouth, feeling the warmth that was Kyle’s breath ghost across his face, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and the slight tang of whiskey on his lips. He never wanted this moment to end.

A moan escaped Kyle’s throat before he could catch it. He felt dizzy. This wasn’t right. This had to be a fucked up dream, right? He had known Stanley all his life - he had never had these thoughts or feeling before now. Had he? His lower half was warm and strained as he starting to grow hard. He released one hand from Stan’s hips and pulled his orange jacket down to hide his growing bulge. He kissed back, though, despite himself. Stan’s tongue invaded his mouth and he wrestled his tongue with Stan’s. He wanted to prove that he could be dominant as well. All these feelings were driving Kyle crazy.

Stan moaned behind the kiss and reached in front of Kyle to begin unzipping the other teen’s jacket. He heard the zipper move downward and he grinned. He pulled away from the kiss to pull Kyle’s jacket off him. “Dude, I fuckin’ love you.” Stan’s voice was gentle as he tossed the orange jacket to the floor. “I’ve always fuckin’ loved you.” He sighed and reached up under the hem of Kyle’s shirt. He looked to meet Kyle’s dark, dilated green eyes and watched the other teen through his own ocean pools. He was hot, needed his clothes taken off, and he really wanted to throw up. He thought he’d outgrown wanting to throw up because of crushes. Guess not. He smiled and began to shimmy off his Letterman jacket.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking shit. These words repeated themselves in Kyle’s mind. This was really about to fucking happen. He helped Stan peel off his Letterman jacket and tossed it to the floor close to his own bundled mess of a jacket. He breathed through his mouth, his heart squeezing and collapsing on itself until it was sore. He suddenly felt nervous, excited. He had so many emotions at once and he was fucking hard. “Fuck, Stan.” Was all he could expel out of his throat and his damn voice cracked. Was this all serious? Should he say he loved him back? Obviously, he did but he wasn’t so sure it was in the same way. Or was it? He didn’t know what the fuck was happening but that it felt so right. And wrong. He crashed his lips against Stan’s, breathing heavily through his nose as he began to unbuckle Stan’s belt.

Strong knees buckled to Kyle’s intense kiss. Stan knew he was hard and as soon as he felt his belt come undone, he moved his own hands to undo his pants, dropping them to the carpeted floor; all he was left in was a plain black t-shirt and a pair of red and black plaid boxers. Once he kicked his pants to the side, he moved to begin undoing Kyle’s belt as well, all the while kissing his best friend. He couldn’t believe they were doing this. Stan felt satisfied, relieved, and continuously queasy at the same time. This felt so good, so right, so natural. This is where he decided he’d belonged when suddenly Stan tore away from Kyle. . He groaned and looked to his best friend with half lidded eyes. “Fuck...” He muttered softly. “Fuck...” He placed his hands to his head and lowered his eyes to look at the ground, closing them as he let out a long exhale. The biliousness came in full force. It made Stan’s stomach tie in knots and he just did not feel very well at all. “Shit, Kyle...” He moaned softly, looking up to his best friend. Stan must have moved his head too quickly because he felt the rush of vomit come up into his throat and he ran for the small trash can he kept next to his desk. He hurled. All the alcohol, all the food, all the kisses which he would miss most of all. He chucked everything up.

Kyle blinked a few times, coming out of his reverie and missing the warmth that had surrounded him. His face slowly turning from a bight scarlet to a light pink as he heard the undeniable sounds of Stan vomiting. Hurling was definitely a mood killer for Kyle. “Shit dude.” He breathed as he buttoned and zipped his pants back up quickly then travelled over to his best friend’s side. “T-told ya you had too much.” He quietly scolded. The room seemed to be spinning, even for him. Was it the alcohol? Or was it a head rush from all the making out? He and Stan were almost going to…Jesus Christ. His cheeks immediately flooding to a bright scarlet and his stomach flipped. “You okay dude?” He asked as he lazily rubbed Stan’s strong, wide shoulder blades.

Stan continued to empty the contents of his stomach. He shook his head during a break in regurgitation and looked to Kyle. His eyes were bloodshot and he felt like death. No way was he going to get any sleep tonight. “Dude,” Stan whined, reaching for some Kleenex that was conveniently placed next to his computer. “Am I dyin’?” Stan had so much concern in his voice. He felt like death was right at his door step. He turned back to the trash can and spit a final time before looking back at Kyle. “Kyle...I feel like shit. And I love you.” He leaned against the nice feeling of his back being rubbed. “You wanna lay down?”

Stan repeating that he loved him made Kyle’s stomach do even more acrobats. By the end of the night his damn stomach could join the circus. Surely this was some kind of joke? Hopefully Stan threw up just because he was super drunk. “I’ll lie down with you as long as you don’t throw up on me.” He gave a meek chuckle as he continued to rub Stan’s back, patting it gently ever so often. “Also, no you are not dying. You drank too much, dude. That’s why you keep trying to profess your gay love for me.” He joked dryly.

A laugh escaped Stan’s throat. “Dude, I do. I fucking love you.” He watched Kyle with a smile on his face. He wiped his mouth with the Kleenex again and then looked to his bed. “Okay, let’s go lay down so I can die in peace.” He joshed. He picked up the trash can and started to stumble towards the bed. It was so strange. When he was kissing Kyle, he felt so steady and his movements seemed so sure. When he wasn’t kissing Kyle, he could barely see straight. Kyle was right. He was definitely going to regret his decisions in the morning, especially since he had to get up for football practice. Ah fuck. Stan sat on the bed and smiled at Kyle. He patted the spot next to him, indicating he wanted Kyle to sit next to him. It felt good sitting down. Stan didn’t feel quite as warm when he wasn’t standing.

Kyle moved over to where Stan indicated him to sit and plopped onto the bed. “Dude, you are too drunk to be saying that.” He responded to Stan telling him he loved him. “I mean, I love you too dude, but seriously.” He declared with a chuckle as he shook his head and tapped Stan’s thick shoulder comfortingly. “Lay down, you need to sleep.”

Stan nodded his head and pointed to the pillow on the other end of the bed. “‘Kay, dude.” He whisperd. He put the trash can beside his bed and smiled at Kyle. “You wanna spoon me?” Stan chuckled, cheeks getting redder as he laughed. “I’ll let you be th-the big spoon.” He laid down, resting his head on his pillow and picking his legs up slowly. He turned so he was laying on his back. He spread his legs so one was to the side of Kyle and the other was off the bed again, foot flat against the floor. His semi-hard on was still evident in his boxers. He grinned to the red headed teen.

Acknowledging Stan’s words, Kyle tried his damnedest to not notice the slight bulge in the boxers as he laid down next to Stan, wrapping his arms around his torso. He put his hands to Stan’s chest, lightly tapping it to a beat that he made up. It felt normal but he knew it wasn’t.

Stan had always been okay with gay people, animals, and things since that time in third grade where he went on Big Gay Al’s Big Gay Boat Ride. The boat was no longer a thing but Stanley had learned a lot from his adventure alone that day. He’d learned to accept his dog Sparky just as he was and homosexual people were alright too. Stan had been called queer and fag all his life for being an emotional, cynical person and he was fine if people thought of him that way because there was nothing wrong with being gay. He looked to Kyle and moved so he could wrap an arm around the red headed, green eyed teen. He grinned, leaning forward to place a kiss to his best friend’s head. “I love you, Ky.” He remarked genuinely. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. Don’t wanna know what it’d be like without you...”

Kyle smiled, almost immediately turning red at the remark. He felt his heart shit itself for the second time that night. God dammit. What the fuck was wrong with me? He leaned into the kiss and closed his eyes. “You are my best friend too, dude. We have to die at the same time so we never find out, right?” This was something they agreed on in when they were young as well. “I love you too Stanley.” He meant it, whether or not it was platonically or homosexually; at this point, he couldn’t tell which one it was anymore.


An annoying and loud noise woke Stan from his slumber and upon waking up, he had the worst kind of headache. Stan reached for his phone to turn off the insistent alarm. Stan’s limbs were curled around Kyle’s but Stanley was determined to make it out of bed. It was five in the morning and the quarterback couldn’t miss practice in an hour. Head throbbing and muscles feeling wobbly, Stan moved as gently as he could to not wake his hard-sleeping best friend. Once out of the human entanglement, he looked at Kyle and smiled. He reached down to cover up the red headed teen and tucked him in. When Stan deemed Kyle sufficiently tucked in, it was time to get ready. Stan, every morning for the last seven years, had put on a football uniform first thing in the morning for practice. He’d pick out his clothes for the day and change after practice at school. Every night he would wash the uniform and then do it all again the next day. As he got dressed, he looked to Kyle again. He was feeling a lot of things for his best friend today, though unsure why. All of the night before had been a blur. He figured he was lucky that he woke up in his own bedroom this time.

Another alarm went off on Stan’s phone, causing the young man to swear and start heading down the stairs. Off to school he went, ready for 5:45 AM football practice.


Kyle had an alarm for 6:00AM sharp. As his phone went off from his jeans' pocket, he rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. He reached into his pocket and turned off the alarm and noticed that Stan’s football jersey and Letterman jacket were missing. Good. That meant he should have made it to practice. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to bid the headache good riddance when he remembered the actions that happened between he and Stan. On more than one occasion, Stan had confessed feelings for him. Just the thought created scarlet red cheeks on the ginger haired boy. He got out of Stan’s bed and found his green hat and slipped it on, not worrying about how his hair looked now. He stood up and grabbed his orange jacket that had been discarded on the floor and put it on before going to brush his teeth (Stan always had a spare toothbrush for his best friend) and started to walk to school. The morning air was crisp and dry. His breath could be seen as he let out a sigh and shoved his hands into his pocket. He walked to the bus stop where Kenny, waving at him, already waited patiently.

“Crazy night.” Kenny mumbled happily, muffled in his orange parka. His face was, as always, somewhere lost in the hood. It seemed as though he were in a good mood. As if he had no hang over at all. Asshole.

“Yeah dude, no joke.” He replied softly. Eric walked up, but for once had nothing really to say. Kyle looked at Eric’s puzzled facial expression, but didn’t have the energy to deal with him. The bus pulled up before long and the boys got on to head to school.


Football practice was difficult and cold for a hungover Stan Marsh. He’d overdone it on the drinking the night before but hell, it was his birthday. What else was he going to do? His parents had been gone so he had to throw himself a party. Was it his fault his birthday was on a Sunday? Of course not. Though he supposed he could have thrown it on Saturday. But he’d spent all day with Kyle on Saturday and that would have cut into their super best friend time. He smiled, thinking of Kyle. God, he was so fucking cool. Even though he knew he had a test today, he still came and Stan was sure he was taken care of by the ginger teen.

A football came hurdling toward Stan’s face. He caught the ball and started to hurry past Clyde and Token who were both on the “shirts” team during their football drill.


The boys made it to school and Kyle was honestly lost in his own world. Kenny and Cartman argued about pointless shit the whole way, which was unusual as it was usually Kyle and Cartman who argued. Kyle decided he had to see Stan. Maybe they should talk about what happened.

“Kyle? Where ya going dude?” Kenny asked, his voice still muffled.

“Going to see Stan. I’ll see you in class.” He replied. Cartman had nothing fucked up to say about it. Was Cartman alright? He usually had something to rip on him about. Kyle shrugged it off and walked for a few minutes. He’d found Stan out in the practice field and he was hoping they would wrap up soon because it was fucking cold outside. Kyle kept his hands in his orange jacket pockets.

Stan pulled his helmet down and adjusted his mouth guard. He rushed past Clyde and Token as he ran their play against the “shirts” team. Stan scored, crossing the touch down line and he looked to Token who’d taken off his helmet and Clyde who was kicking the dirt in anger. Stan grinned at the two guys as Token went to comfort Clyde. Stan looked around for a moment, seeing Kyle, and didn’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot, waving frantically as his heart thumped awkwardly in his chest. Coach blew their whistle to indicate that their mini game was over and that first period athletics period was to begin.

“Get your boyfriend off the field, Marsh. He’s got fuckin’ class to go to!” Coach yelled and Stan nodded, jogging up to Kyle.

“Hey dude,” Stan happily greeted his best friend. A big smile was on his face despite how horrible he felt. He really suddenly felt nauseous again. He placed a hand to Kyle’s shoulder. “Coach doesn’t want visitors today. Pretty sure he didn’t get laid last night because he’s been a complete dick.” Stan laughed. “How ya feelin’?” He asked finally. If he felt like crap then Kyle must have felt like crap too.

Kyle nodded and looked down at the ground, kicking at the grass a bit before looking back up at Stan’s blue eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he thought of those curvy chapped lips on his own. He felt heat rush up to his face and he blinked. “Uh,” He began as he swallowed hard, “I feel alright.” He lied smoothly. “I was just checking up on you really quick. You got really sick last night. Do you...remember?” He asked. Kyle felt face grow bright red at just the thought. They almost fucked last night and Kyle was going to let it happen.

Stan watched Kyle and smiled as he patted Kyle’s shoulder, shaking his head. “Dude, I don’t remember shit from last night. The only thing I kind of remember is seeing Butters sucking on someone’s face.” Stan watched Kyle, still feeling kind of nauseous. He wanted to throw up but he held it back. He wasn’t sure why he felt so sick all of a sudden. “That was hella fuckin’ weird.” He said with a chuckle.

“Marsh, what the fuck did I tell you?!” Yelled Coach. “Get Broflovski off the field and do ten laps around. C’mon!”

Stan smiled back at Kyle. Ten laps around the field was nothing of a punishment so Stan would be fine. “I guess you better get to class, dude. They’ll be missin’ your brains anyway. Thanks for checking in on me! You’re a real friend, dude.”

Kyle blinked a few times, his heart felt like it was physically falling. “Oh, yeah dude. Go run.” He retorted with a fake chuckle. He whipped around, putting his back to Stan, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and started off towards the school. Fuck. FUCK. Stan didn't remember. His face grew red with frustration. Fucking really? His brows were furrowed as he stared hard at the ground as he walked. What the fuck was he thinking? Did he think it was real? Of course, it wasn’t real. Stan was just fucking around with him last night. He fucking knew it. He held back the biting sting in the corners of his eyes as he headed back to the main building of the high school.