Hiya peaches! How's life hanging for you all? Well here's yet another chapter of my favorite fanfic! I have made Kyle yet another little shit (and whoops I made some very Cartman like comments in here. Sorry not sorry.), and I want to break 40 reviews by this chapter \(o.o)/. So, is it possible to make a wish come true on Valentines Day for a single high school girl?

Disclaimer: No matter how many times I say, I do not own South Park and never will.

In which Stan has a question

School shouldn't have taken this long. I mean seriously, two periods of an hour and a half is not that much. We're kind of wasting valuable time you know?

Last period though, I could feel that little shit's stare at me all throughout French 3 class. My situation was only helped (take note and write down my obvious sarcasm children) when we were put into groups. It's probably very obvious who I was put into a group with. So far we've stuck to almost every high school first day cliché story line so why not?

"I'm telling you right now, if you and Kyle don't become butt buddies anytime soon, he's going to end up killing himself like those cheesy romance movies the stupid girls watch." Cartman rambles. I'm pretty sure not even he knows what he's talking about. " If I hear one more story about how good you fucked him that night after Bebe's party, I'm going to shoot myself in the head."

Wait he-," Wait he told you that?" I exclaim, only to get shushed by Mrs. whatever her face was. Seriously though, our French 3 teacher was an Indian woman who we can barely understand her English because of her Indian accent. Just imagine how French sounds in an Indian accent.

Amber eyes narrow and stare at me teasingly," What's the matter? Your little boyfriend didn't tell you he talked to me before he gave you a blowy in the closet?"

Well… he did mention he talked to Cartman, but I didn't think their conversations would go in that direction. I mean come on; this is Eric Cartman we're talking about. If anything, this is the person I would expect to make our lives a living hell if he found out that we slept together. But no, he's giving us relationship advice (sort of, if we were even in a relationship.)

Another shush comes our way and Cartman rolls his eyes in response.

"Juste rejoindre le bateau pirate fesses afin que nous puissions vous consacrer à votre année junior déjà" He comments.

Fine, whatever. See what I mean?

Cartman's eyes go from smirking amusingly at me to behind me. "Est-ce que ton cul mal? Parce qu'il ressemble à l'œil de Kyle vous putain de tout le chemin là-bas." His head nods in that direction, causing me to turn around and see those striking jade green eyes staring at me intently. Keeping my eye contact with him, a small smirk forms on my lips as I watch Kyle slowly drag his tongue over his parted lips. Butters are totally oblivious to the fact that Kyle's not paying attention to him, rambling on about something that probably doesn't concern us.

Option A includes me ignoring Mrs. Pajama (I cant say her name right for the life of me), walking over to Kyle and having my way with him on that same desk he's having a one sided conversation with Butters.

Option B includes me waiting the last fifteen minutes of class, and a football meeting after school, meeting Kyle at his house (since I'm pretty sure Sheila's at a some kind of PTA meeting, Gerald's at work and Ike's probably at the debate meeting for middle school, even though he's in freaking 8th grade and 11 years old)

Even though option A seems a lot more interesting, I think I can wait. It'll be hard, but what isn't hard nowadays?

A quick, small, but noticeable blow comes to the back of my head, and I realize that Cartman hit me with his pen. "Je ne Suis pas sur le point d'obtenir une mauvaise note sur le premier jour juste parce que vous voulez un morceau de cul"

"Si vous ne étiez pas stupide, vous ne auriez pas besoin de mon aide pours obtenir une bonne note sur le premier jour." I shoot back, and he glares at me.

Stan: 1

Cartman: 0

Finally, almost sounding like a victory horn, the bell rings inside the classroom, causing me to jump up just like everybody else, grab my stuff and run out before Pajamas can assign us any kind of homework.

"Where are you going?" Kenny asked, opening his locker. Stuffing almost everything from my backpack into my locker and closing it, I give him that ' Not where you want me to go' look, and he pouts in response. He'll probably just go over to Bebe's and eat her entire pantry and refrigerator like he always does.

"There's some kind of football meeting in the physics room for the Freshies and then I'm going to Kyle's house to write that paper Masey gave us in English."

Kenny smirks, " Jesus Stan, you could have just told me that you didn't want to come to my house. You don't have to lie to me when you're going to get some ass." He chides, pinching both of my cheeks. " My little Stan's growing up!"

I wriggle out of his grip and bring the straps of my almost empty backpack over my shoulder, "Yeah, Yeah asshole. I'm already grown up and I've already gotten ass before." I really don't count me sleeping with Wendy, because I was pretty much unhappy the entire time. Speaking of which, I have not seen her all day.

"I know. Just go to your buff tight pants wearing football meeting you sweaty jock." And with that, Kenny turns around and stalks off down the quickly dispersing hallway.

When I finally get to the meeting, my eyes immediately lock on to that senior's. The one that was whispering in Kyle's ear at Bebe's party. Remember? I do. And it makes me mad that I'm going to have to spend an entire football season looking at his stupid face.

Our little eye banter carries on for the entire meeting. It wasn't important anyway, just talking about practices and how we go to Shakey's after every game if we want to, etc. etc.

When we're finally allowed to leave, of course I try to get out as fast as I possibly cam, but I'm stopped by assholey jock that keeps trying to mess with what's mine.

Is Kyle mine though? Unofficial boyfriends? Fuck buddies? I'm penetrating his ass buddies? Fuck if I know.

It'd be pretty kick ass to be boyfriends though. Something that isn't just based solely on fucking each other's brains out.

"You're Stan Marsh right? The quarterback for this year?" He asks. I accept his handshake and try to give my best fake smile without looking like I have to take a shit. I don't think it works though.

"Yeah. I don't think I know who you are though. Are you new this year?"

He nods, "Brandan Davids, wide receiver." He pauses for a moment, looking me up and down, "So, what's your story with the story with the cute redhead that was following around at that party?"

Well, he certainly doesn't waste time letting his sexuality fly out the window. I thought tough senior guys that played football were supposed to be homophobic like in those stupid MTV shows portrayed.

Yes I might have seen a few of those, is there a problem?

But fact of the matter, do I say that we're boyfriends? He has a girlfriend/boyfriend already? I need a good lie here so douche bag can leave me alone.

"He's my friend, but he's not looking for a relationship this year." I quickly respond. "You know, he has a problem trusting people after his girlfriend cheated on him with like 8 guys last year."

Way to fucking go Stan Marsh.

Brandan nods," Oh ok. I was just making sure that he wasn't taken or anything. Does he have a name?"

Well obviously I can't lie about this one, seeing as he's going to find out one-way or another. I'm so glad he's doing volleyball instead of joining me in football with Shitface McGee.

"Kyle." I respond quickly. He nods, staying silent like he just heard the combination to get the Hope Diamond or something.

A group of beardy seniors call to him, making those fucking weird animal noises and hooting. So, he gives a small wave before walking back over to his little posse, but I saw it. For a complete second, I saw that look in his eyes that pretty much screamed that I need to watch out for this guy.

"Oh my God what the fuck took you so long?" Kyle groans. Instead of getting there at a solid four o'clock like I wanted to, I showed up at four thirty. That's almost forty-five minuets before Ike gets home from debate club. If you ask me, I don't know what could be so important that it could take full forty-five minuets. If we were at my house then I could understand, but we aren't. So I should be the one asking "What the fuck?"

"Coach asked me about which of the freshman looked promising for varsity this year. I couldn't just say no." I'm lying, but by the way he looks I think he bought it.

The full story? I went home right after Brandan gave his little heartfelt look about how much he wants to bone Kyle and did my homework. It wasn't much though, just a paragraph on which Hunger Games movie was my favorite so far. I'm pretty sure I made it angrier than an opinion-based essay needed to be.

I know Kyle already finished his homework. Something simple like that he could have wrote it while walking home from school, and still have time to spare. It didn't even take me the full thirty minutes to do it, I just wanted to sit and think about how I could be so much better for Kyle than that Brandan kid.

Eh. Some things aren't meant for telling.

Coming inside the house, I wait for a greeting from Sheila, Gerald or Ike to find none. Yep, they're all still gone.

"S-so, what do you wanna do?" Kyle stammers, blushing. This causes me to look at him skeptically. What happened to that kid that said he wanted to do what he wanted to do and then blew me in closet just hours ago? I swear the more we grow up the more confusing we all get.

Quickly and to relieve the tension I should not be feeling with my fucking super best friend, I close the gap between us, and he quickly follows my lead. Almost immediately, his lips part and grant me access, causing a soft moan to escape his lips when I take full advantage of this. Biting at his lower lip, Kyle groans and tangles his hands in my hair, tugging slightly. My hands go from holding the back of his neck with one hand to resting both of them on his waist, bringing him as close as possible. Whoever was leading whom, we somehow end up on the sofa with him straddling my waist and not breaking the kiss once.

Warm hands travel under my shirt, hips push down into mine, and I groan at the inability to flip him over thanks to this stupid goddamn small sofa. So for now, I'll have to settle with pushing mine against his.

It seems like we've been just kissing for at least ten minutes. I pull away, and he stares at me like I'm the one on top of him. In return, I give him a look that screams 'Well?' only to be met with a look that mimics a fish out of water.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with just kissing but come on, this is Kyle we're talking about. I get mad whenever I read an M rated fic and there's no scene whatsoever. I don't know, it feels like a broken promise to me and I'm feeling the same exact way now.

But, we end up in an awkward standoff. I don't know what to do because I've never been on the bottom(per say) and I'm guessing he doesn't know what to do because he's never been on the top.

"I-I don't know what to do from here." He stammers, face a shade of red that would rival paint. His head lowers to hide under that mass of reddish orange curls.

"But in the closet, when you-"

"I took advice from Kenny." He cuts me off shamefully. Think of the reddest object that comes to mind, and that's how red Kyle is right now. He still won't look at me though, but I can see him puffing his checks out in annoyance. "I also tried to find something about what to do on the Internet, but all the stuff I found was written for girls."

I let out a mixture between a laugh and a huff. "Jesus fucking Christ why didn't you just say so?"

I'm met with no response.

"Were you afraid to tell me?" I ask teasingly. The grip he has on my shirt tightens and I know I'm right.

"Shut up." He simply says.

I reach my hands up and poke him in the side, causing him to squirm away from me a little, "Aw come on. You can tell Uncle Stanny anything." I coo.

"First of all, you sound like a pedophile. Secondly, I'm not afraid to tell you shit." Kyle shoots back. An even wider smile erupts onto my face when I know exactly how to get him.

My hands move to his waist, and I pretend that I'm pulling him down for another kiss when my fingers move frantically over his sides.

Yes. Kyle Broflovski, the person who isn't afraid to beat up anyone if they talk shit, is ticklish.

Immediately and with a yelp, he moves off of me in desperation to try to get away, but I'm much quicker. Before he can even land one foot on the floor, my hands are back at his sides as I release my cavalry of tickle attacks. Ignoring the calls of "Stan stop!" and "Stop asshole!" I continue my assault until my wrist start to hurt.

From our new position, which involves me straddling him in return, we both stare at each other and try to catch our breaths.

"I have a question for you though." I pant, and he stares at me quizzically. "What are we?"

"Well, we're juniors in high school, you're Stan Marsh and I'm-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it." I interrupt. "I mean what are we?"

And yet, I get that look that screams I'm a dumbass. Like the answers the most obvious thing in the world and it just flew past me after smacking me in the face.

"I thought we were," He pauses for a moment. I think it's to try to find the right word. "Together."

"So we are in fact together." I confirm. He nods in response to my, apparently, stupid question.

"But I hate that word boyfriends. It makes us seem like we go shopping together on the weekends and watch romantic comedies while eating chocolates." He flashes me a pretty smile that I can't help but mimic. "I think we're much more badass than that. But, I do think we should keep this under the water for a while. Just until we're absolutely sure how our parents are going to react."

In my sudden wave of happiness (I know, pretty gay sounding right?) I lean down and give him a soft kiss, unlike the ones we've been sharing for the past few days. He kisses me back with the same amount of gentleness, wrapping his legs around my waist to bring me closer. Before I know it, we're just kissing on the couch again. I'm ok with it though. It's nice.

But things can really never go my way cans they?

I don't even notice the sound of the front door unlocking and opening until I hear a gasp of "Holy shit."

Weyhey! I tried so desperately to break 3000 words, but I couldn't do it for the life of me.

Here's Cartman and Stan's little conversation in French. Its in order and I'm pretty sure you can guess who said what.

"Just join the butt pirate boat so we can get on with our junior year already."

"Does your ass hurt? 'Cause it looks like Kyle's eye fucking you from all the way over there."

"I'm not about to get a bad grade on the first day just because you want a piece of ass."

"If you weren't stupid you wouldn't need my help getting a good grade on the first day."

Anyway, I don't know how the next chapter's going to go, but others easily persuade me when the time calls for it. Who's at the door? Is it Sheila? Is it Gerald? Is it Ike? Is it Butters? I don't know!

See that pretty review button at the bottom? I dare you to hit it for Valentines Day.

Adios necromancers!

~819