Author's Note: This is my first time ever writing for the SP fandom, and right now I have to warn you that I was never a huge fan of the series. Not until lately anyway. I watched a couple of episodes here and there when I was twelve with friends when we were all enamored by the sheer vulgarity of it like any other normal person, but that's about it. :p Therefore, armed with nothing but Wikipedia and a collection of amazing stories I've found on this site that I added to my Favorites pile, I present you with my offering. Pairings as of now include Stan/Wendy, Bebe/Kyle, Stan/Kyle and Cartman/Kyle with perhaps a few more to crop up as we go along. I don't have a developed plan yet, so I'm pulling all of this out of my ass as we go along to fit the big picture. My style to have the details fill in themselves over time. Nevertheless, please enjoy the story!

"And now every time I try to get close to her, she's got Bebe fielding me!" Stan Marsh exclaimed, slapping his palm against the lunch table for emphasis.

"Cock-blocking bitch," Cartman snorted, spitting out bits of food in his disdain. Without so much as a second thought, he snatched up the crumbs from the tabletop and tossed them back into his overly-full mouth, ignoring the disgusted looks from his three other companions. Stan ignored him in favor of turning to his best friend who was currently hunched over his assignments spread out in front of him.

"So what do you think I should do?" he questioned.

"I think you should take the opportunity to cop a feel," Kenny McCormick supplied helpfully. Stan ignored him as well, keeping his eyes on the redhead sitting across him. "Kyle?"

"Hmm?" Kyle Broflovski grunted, never taking his eyes off his work.

Stan sighed. It was always a struggle to get the boy's attention when he got like this. "What do you think I should do about Wendy?"

"I think you should totally go for it," Kyle said distractedly, proving that he hadn't listened to a single word Stan had been raving about for the past fifteen minutes. Stan let out a frustrated tsk.

"How?"

Kyle finally raised his head up to stare at the raven-haired boy curiously. "How what?"

"How – should – I – get – Wendy – talking – to – me again?" Stan ground out.

"That hippie bitch is such a fucking whore," Cartman butted in again, "I don't see why you're busting your blue balls when we all know all she's interested in is getting each of her holes filled at once. Just get your dirty Jew and that broke-ass slut bag over there and she'll spread herself open faster than—"

"Faster than you can spot any more crumbs with those piggy little eyes, fatass?" Kyle offered irritably.

"Aye! Don't call me fat when I'm trying to get you laid, you fucking Daywalker," Cartman snapped. "It's not my fault no girl will touch you when they all know the only way you'd be able to get in deep is with that Judaic nose rather than that pencil-dick of yours."

"I'm sure you know all about my dick, Cartman," Kyle returned, sounding bored now. "Hiding out in the locker-room is the closest you'll ever get to having anyone strip for you."

"Guys!" Stan tried to get their attention before the two of them got into it again, "My problem, please?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "I agree with Cartman," he said plainly.

"Kyle!" Kyle held up his hands in surrender.

"All I'm saying is, you and Wendy have been going over this since the fourth grade," he amended. "You should know the drill by now, Stan. She ignores you for a couple of days, you bend over backwards trying to get her back and fail miserably, and she starts talking to you of her own accord. And repeat."

Stan considered this. "But in order to make that work, won't I have to do something so that she'll see I'm bending over backwards to get her to talk to me again?"

Kyle gave a painful smile. "Maybe this time you could try skipping that step."

He got to his feet. "I can see I'm not going to get much done here; I'll be in the library until class starts."

"Don't you ever take a break?" Stan asked him. "Homework is meant to be done at home, you know."

Kyle flashed him a toothy grin. "Well, if I did that, when would I ever get time to revise?" And with that, he stuffed his work messily into his backpack and waved them goodbye.

"Friggin' Jew," Cartman turned to Stan. "So what are you going to do about your ho?"

Stan frowned. Over the years, Cartman's had dulled to a mild annoyance they had all resigned to having to put up with. The boy who had once invented terms such as 'daywalker' had failed to grow more creative over time, and as such, his repetitive remarks had lost the edge they once had; still, Stan couldn't say he appreciated any of the words that spilled out of his mouth. "Don't call her that, fatass," he replied monotonously.

"Aye!" Cartman frowned. "Don't tell me you're going to take Jew-boy's word. What would that fag know about girls?"

"Kyle is not gay," Stan repeated for the millionth time. "And I happen to think it's a good idea, personally. Definitely saves me a lot of effort."

"Oh yeah?" Cartman leered. "When was the last time you ever saw him try to pump into some bitch, huh? And you want to talk about effort?"

Stan opened his mouth to argue, but paused. He couldn't rightly say he had ever seen Kyle go out on a date, now that he thought about it; not a proper one, at least. Kyle had never really shown interest in any girl in South Park, now that he thought about it.

Cartman smiled smugly at the lack of response. "That doesn't mean he's gay though," the words came from Kenny. The other two boys turned to face him. "I've never seen Kyle show interest in any boys either," he stated, as though reading Stan's thoughts.

Cartman sneered. "Like he would tell you, dipshit; telling you something like that would only end up with being raped in your cardboard box."

"Why are we friends with you again?" Stan queried.

"Because you don't have anyone else," Cartman informed.

"Uh, no," Stan rebuffed. "I have lots of people just vying for my attention."

"Oh yeah," Cartman gazed around the lunchroom and Stan's eyes involuntarily followed. All the students around them were talking animatedly to one another, paying the three of them no mind. Wendy Testaburger averted her eyes when she caught Stan's; Bebe Stevens gave him a dirty look; Token Black rolled his eyes; Tweek jumped up a mile in the air and crashed down on the dirty linoleum floor; Craig flipped them off. "Lots of people." Cartman highlighted his point by landing his gaze squarely back on Kyle's abandoned seat.

Stan nudged him hard with his elbow. "Fatass," he muttered, getting to his feet and marching over to the table occupied by Wendy, Bebe, Red, Heidi and several girls he hardly took notice of. Bebe pushed back her seat, trying to stare him down with an intimidating look. Stan held up his hands as a peace offering.

"Listen, Bebe, I didn't come here to fight, I just wanted to talk to Wendy—"

Bebe picked up her fork.

"Um …" Stan took a step backward, hands still raised where she could see them. He turned back to his friends for support. Cartman was helping himself to Stan's half-eaten lunch and Kenny was making hand-motions akin to milking a cow.

"No help there," Stan grumbled, turning back to Bebe. Wendy was watching the proceedings with mild interest, and Stan glared at her, which only served to make Bebe wave the utensil threateningly in his face. He was going to have to do something drastic in order to get out of this one unscathed. Recalling his earlier conversation with Cartman, an idea came to him in a dazzling flash of brilliance. "I was just wondering if you would be interested in joining me and Wendy this Friday … with Kyle."

It worked like a charm. The fork clattered to the ground and Bebe clapped her hands together as a dreamy expression covered her face. "Bebe?" Wendy called out with some alarm. "Bebe, what are you doing?"

"We graciously accept," Bebe sighed, paying her friend no mind. Stan gave his girlfriend a triumphant look, one which Wendy returned by baring her teeth.

"So we'll pick you up then, say around eight?" Stan smirked. Bebe said nothing but sank back into her seat with a smile tugging at her lips. Stan almost skipped back over to his own table.

"Looks like Wendy and I have a date," he announced as soon as he took his seat, ignoring the fact that Cartman had completely demolished his way through his lunch. "With Kyle and Bebe in tow."

"No fucking surprise that ho still scissors herself to pictures of the Jew-fro," Cartman smacked his lips in attempt to aggravate Stan. Stan couldn't have cared less; even happier than he was for himself for having figured out how to get to Wendy was how he felt for helping out his best friend who was obviously too shy to approach girls on his own. This was the start of something good for Kyle; he could feel it. He turned back around to catch Bebe making gestures similar to the one Kenny had been doing just a moment before, except this one undoubtedly expressed her desire to get her hands on Kyle Broflovski's bountiful buns.

Definitely something good.

"No." Kyle said without breaking his stride as he typed furiously on his computer.

Stan flopped around on the bed, exasperated. "Why not?"

"Doesn't matter," Kyle said resolutely. "I said no; that should be the end of it."

"Bu – bu – but Bebe's really looking forward to it! You should have seen how excited she was," Stan protested.

"You shouldn't have done that," Kyle admonished, finally spinning around to glare at him before returning to his work. "Bebe knows how I feel about her; I worked hard to keep things in the unresolved limbo that they hung in."

"Come on, Kyle, it's one date!" Stan got to his feet. Again, his conversation with Cartman at the lunch table came to him. He chewed his lip thoughtfully, before making his way over to his friend, sashaying his hips exaggeratedly in order to get into character. He placed one hand upon Kyle's red hair and rested the other against a pale cheek. "If you do this for me, I'll make it worth your while," he promised playfully in a husky voice. Kyle jumped so high, Stan was almost surprised his head didn't get trapped in the ceiling.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he yelped.

"Nothing!" Stan backed away. At least he knew that Cartman was wrong now; if Kyle truly were gay, he would have leaned into the touch, Stan was sure. "So are you coming or what?"

"Um, no," Kyle was still staring at him oddly as though wondering what had just happened a moment ago. Stan deflated.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeease, Kyle?" he pleaded. "It's the only way I could get Wendy to come out with me. Don't make me beg."

"You're already begging," Kyle pointed out. "I told you to leave the Wendy thing alone. She would have come crawling back to you by Wednesday. Why did you have to get me involved?"

"Okay," Stan allowed, "I'm an idiot. And you can hate me all you want after Friday, but pleeeeeeease do this for me?"

Kyle hung his head in defeat. "Alright, fine. But after this, you don't get to bug me about dating until we graduate."

"Deal!" Stan leaped at the offer.

"You're a hard man to pin down, Broflovski." Kyle jumped when the locker next to his was treated to a particularly hard slam, jarring his from his rather mundane task of organizing his books. He looked over to find Bebe Stevens smirking up at him.

"Hi, Bebe," he said cautiously. "How goes it?"

"It goes well, Kyle Broflovski," Bebe's mocked in a darkly seductive voice. "I trust Marsh told you of our plans this Friday?"

"Dinner and a movie. He's paying," Kyle replied in a flat monotone.

Bebe scrunched up closer to him, grazing her breasts against his arm. Unconsciously, Kyle inched away. "Er, Bebe, I'm going to be late for class," he excused himself.

Her smile turned predatory. "Class is over, Kyle," she informed him. "And I know you aren't part of any clubs."

Kyle swore under his breath. "I meant class as in … tutoring. I'm tutoring …" he darted his eyes around to pick someone to serve as his alibi, "Butters."

Unconvinced, Bebe turned around and barked, "Butters! What are you doing after school?"

The boy paused and stuttered over his words. "Well, golly gee, Bebe, I – I wasn't planning on doing much of anything, if y – you would like to get together or—" But Bebe wasn't paying attention anymore, tuning out the dithering boy's advances.

"You're trying to get away from me, that's cool," she replied unperturbed by the redhead's desire to walk away. "Just remember that I like a chase. And come Friday night…" she left the sentence hanging, walking past him. Kyle's relieved sigh turned into a yelp of pain as her hand slapped against his buttcheek hard before giving it a firm squeeze.

"That's what I'm talkin' about!" Bebe barked over her shoulder before raising her hand to her face and smiling.

It felt just like I always dreamt it would, she was pleased to note.

Author's Note: I am procrastinating MAJORLY on my Danny Phantom fic right now, which I shall eventually get back to after this damn writer's block, so just as a warning, updating will be a little bit strained between uni, work and focusing on my other fics as well. Please drop me some reviews to tell me what you thought so far and whether the characters stayed true enough for you. As I have nothing more than a basic knowledge of their dynamics, I've used the personalities of other characters I've seen over the years to serve as a sort of guideline for me; Bebe Stevens, for example, is partly based on Cindy from the Jimmy Neutron series; Butters has been injected with a little bit of that nasal red-headed kid, Pud'n from The Grim Adventures Of Billy & Mandy; Kyle ... well, any time I try to picture a grown-up Kyle Broflovski, I'm oddly stuck with the image of Dave Annable from Brothers & Sisters. But hey, it works for me. Cartman is infinitely fun to write about though. :D