The tree was lit up, the ornaments and lights sparkling in the room while the fireplace crackled, making Stan's chest swell with pride. He sighed, looking around at the living room; candles were lit, the fireplace was warming the house, the tree was glistening, the pillows were puffed, the blankets were folded and two mugs of hot chocolate sat steaming and waiting on the wooden table before the fireplace. Stan had changed after coming home from his normal jacket and navy blue, long-sleeved shirt to a black turtleneck sweater that he felt more flattered his strong build. He had spent nearly an hour in front of the mirror placing and replacing almost every strand of hair into its perfect position; his heart was pounding as he looked out his window to the night sky and anxiously waited for the phone to ring.

He switched on the white, red and green lights that shimmered around the house, setting his house differently than all those more bland on the block. As he admired his front lawn that was blanketed in snow the familiar buzzing of the phone echoed through the house and he jumped up, his pulse doubled and he ran into the kitchen. He picked up the phone attached to the wall, inquiring,

"Hello?"

"Hey, dude, is it okay if I come over now?"

Stan grinned, "Y-yeah, you want me to come pick you up? My dad left his car here, I could always—"

"No way, the roads are way too icy tonight. I'll walk it, don't worry. I'll be there soon."

Stan nodded, "Alright, see you soon."

With that they hung up and Stan paced in the living room, remembering the past year and all the screen-shot moments in his mind. As he walked up and down nervously, his dog eyeing him strangely from the kitchen floor, he recalled when exactly it was he fell in love with Kyle.

(Three Christmas's ago…)

"You have to kiss!"

Kyle glared, "I'm a Jew, I don't have to follow Christmas rules!"

Stan and Kyle had an unfortunate miscalculation of timing and placement and ended up under the mistletoe together. Wendy Testaburger was Stan's girlfriend then, scowling at him expectantly; as if Stan was supposed to be utterly disgusted that his Super Best Friend would accidently end up with Stan in that predicament. Stan did find her terribly annoying at times. Cartman crossed his chubby arms over his chest,

"Doesn't matter. You're under the mistletoe, you can't just escape Christian rule with a lame excuse like that; otherwise everyone will start saying their Jewish to get out of it! People will be miss-matched and use the classic "Kahl Broflovski" pardoning, mistletoes were lose their awkward and semi-punishing meaning, random acts of love will be thrown to the dogs, Christmas will fall apart, the world will be thrown into chaos, it will be Massteria and it will be all your fault!"

Kyle flustered, rolling his beautiful eyes at the brunette, "FINE, FINE, GOD, I'M SORRY I ARGUED IT, JESUS CHRIST…"

Stan looked down to the shorter boy, his hands suddenly sweaty and heart beating boisterously, heating his face. Kyle's was the same, his freckles coated in red and his emerald eyes shining with uncertainty and bashfulness. He did not break eye-contact with Stan when he interviewed Cartman,

"Well…it's just a kiss, right? It doesn't really matter, I could just kiss his cheek, right?"

Cartman clicked his tongue, "Tsk, tsk, silly Jew, the mistletoe has red and white beady-parts; that means tongues must be used."

"WHAT?" Kyle shot his red face to Eric who continued,

"Sorry, Kahl, if it's just white then it means you don't use tongue, but if it's red you have to."

The redhead slowly looked back at Stan from beneath his lashes, calling attention to his girlish, embarrassed expression. Stan could not speak, could not even find the energy to open his mouth in an attempt; he was very suddenly and very strangely enraptured. He was examining Kyle like a specimen; his high cheekbones, his long lashes, his silky curls, his full lips, his button nose and his breath-taking eyes. They were so hypnotizing, swirling like acidic miasma captured in two envy-drenched halos and wrapped around the twisting, black galaxy of his big pupils, reflecting Stan's intent gaze. The shadows his locks created on themselves on his ears, forehead and neck combined with the muscles in his neck and rarely visible collarbone tugged at Stan's stomach making him feel nervous but spellbound. He wondered why he had never noticed how utterly gorgeous Kyle was before.

"Stan…can I kiss you?"

His cheeks were stained with scarlet as he swallowed fire and nodded hesitantly; that initiated the ceremony of Kyle's bewitching curse. He leaned up on his toes, lifting him by the inch he needed to reach Stan's height; then he lowered his eyelids, the blush traveling to the tips of his ears and exciting every nerve in Stan's body. Stan found his lids feeling heavy, his head spinning in fascination and overwhelming, absurd elation until finally, Kyle Broflovski kissed him. He breathed in deeply and sharply through his nose, making him feel light and sending waves of tickling heat and chills down his back and up into his hot face. Kissing Kyle was much different from kissing Wendy. Wendy was soft, but fragile; Kyle felt tender and smooth, but strong and it fascinated Stan. He ran his guitar callused fingers into Kyle's marmalade locks, tugging slightly and on some curls just pulling gently on them, running it through his hand and appreciating the delicate and springy nature. He took his thumb and brought it to the heated and nervous spot where their lips were conjoined; he separated them by tucking his fingers into Kyle's mouth and anchoring his full bottom lip to give himself entry. The kiss deepened further and he secretly adored the feeling of Kyle stiffen against him in nervous discomposure. His knees felt weak, his heart roared, his blood raced, his head spun, his face reddened and he could no longer mandate his body; it moved against Kyle on its own accord, ignoring the screaming in his mind. It was seduced, it was enchanted, it was investigating his best friend, it was imploring, begging for more. More to touch, more to kiss, more to taste and feel, and then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it ended. Kyle tore away with a deep huff; he was trying to catch his breath and it only made Stan want more to see the adorable boy innocently so unused to kissing so deeply.

Stan's eyes were bolted to the boy's lips; heavy, thick, pink and kiss-swollen. Stan wanted more. Stan wanted to grab Kyle and force his tongue back into him to revisit that sugary sweet taste behind the other boy's mouth. Stan could not find the bravery to look at his girlfriend; he knew, however, that he would be breaking up with her. From that single experience he forgot about his love for Wendy Testaburger. From the single, talismanic occurrence, Stan learned that he was on the prowl for something awfully different. He was on the hunt for Kyle.

The doorbell rang, breaking him out of his trip down Memory Lane and back into reality. He opened the door to find his snowflake peppered friend, looking to him with his beautiful eyes like he always did. He rushed inside, collapsing by the fireplace and shaking at a wave of chills. He looked to Stan, sighing in comfort,

"Jesus, it's cold out there!"

Stan nodded, "Yeah, it's fucking cold out there. I told you I would come and get you, but oh-no!"

"Dude, last time you got caught using your dad's car."

"That's only because I crashed into that pole."

"That's only more reason that I'm glad I didn't let you get out on the ice."

"It came out of nowhere!"

"The pole!?" Kyle laughed.

Stan walked up to him retrieving his coat and hat, gloves and boots and setting them by the front door. Kyle looked around, commenting kindly,

"The place looks great. The lights and everything is really pretty. You did this all yourself?"

"Yeah. Dad hurt his back at work and you know Mom, she thinks it's a man's job, so I've been busy around here."

Kyle hummed in agreement until he spotted the two mugs on the table, inquiring,

"Is that hot cocoa?"

"Yeah, I made it really hot so it would last for when you got here."

Kyle simpered in the angelic way that was his signature,

"Thanks, Stan."

The boy rose from his seat before the fireplace, taking the mug and then reseated himself on the floor, leaning against the stone ledge that lead into the fire pit. Stan approached casually, taking his mug and sitting beside his friend. There was a short, comfortable silence until Kyle interviewed,

"Hey…was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What do you mean?" Stan blushed; he knew it was coming. He'd have to say it. He'd have to act on it. He made a vow.

"I dunno, you just seemed anxious today. Are you alright?"

"Yeah…there's…there's just something I need to tell you…"

"Yeah?"

Stan settled his mug down on the stone ledge, looking at his twiddling fingers in his lap. Kyle was catching on to the serious tone of whatever was about to come out of Stan. He put his cup on the ledge behind him and stared patiently. Stan's heart was racing, but there were no words that would come to his disposal. He looked up to Kyle, his arm rising and sizable hand capturing Kyle's jaw; the redhead's gaze lowered, his half-lidded eyes watching Stan's hand caress his freckled cheek. When his eyes rose again they were met with the image of Stan moving dangerously close; his bedroom eyes were closed in on Kyle's lips and his chest ached with want. In reality, Stan had actually moved quite quickly, blending their mouths together not yet clumsily, but hungrily; he had waited so long to taste Kyle again, after all. The eagerness combined with the undying distress warped his comprehension and control and he gave into his desire for his best friend, forcing his tongue back into its missed territory. He easily overwhelmed Kyle, the boy first leaning back on his elbows then falling onto his back against the carpeted floor. Stan's fingers wrapped and unwrapped in Kyle's hair, lovingly stroking every lock and twist, their hearts boomed against each other creating deafening storms of music and then Stan tore away, catching his breath. He immediately looked at Kyle's lips; there they were. Just as he remembered. Thick, heavy, pink and kiss-swollen, moist, healthy with the texture of a rose petal.

"Kye…I…"

Stan was shocked to feel Kyle's athletic, though lanky arms wrap under his arms, his dexterous hands gripping at Stan's shoulder-blades and pulling him back down. The kiss was passionate and Stan melted into Kyle, the feeling of his soft skin and rough hands, thin figure but toned muscles and those wonderful, pink, heavy, thick, kiss-swollen lips moving against him. They tore away again, Kyle's bedroom eyes eliciting a desirous ache by Stan's abdomen as he murmured cutely,

"Merry Christmas."

As his lips were captured again, his heart sang in sickening optimism at the fact that this would be one of many and many to come.

End!

Merry Christmas!