Chapter 02: The List

Well you drive me crazy half the time...and I'm only me when I'm with you. -Taylor Swift

The remainder of the school week seemed to blur together, and fade by rather quickly. For some peculiar reason, Stan had started avoiding Kyle during school hours, especially during lunch break, though Kyle decided to not question it. Whatever Stan was up to, it didn't seem as though he was intentionally avoiding Kyle, more that he seemed to be rushing from place to place in a hurry, and it seemed like a good idea to just leave him to it.

The list? That had be a quick disaster. After personally calling at Bebe's house himself. Kyle had found out that Bebe was out of town with Denver High School's cheerleading squad. Apparently this year, under the keen command of newly appointed head cheerleader herself, Bebe Stevens, the squad had improved enough to qualify for nationals in Nevada. Subsequently, it meant that Stan and Kyle didn't have the support of any of the other list makers in the school. Stan had offhandedly suggested they attempt one by themselves, but Kyle was quick to dismiss it. If Bebe wasn't around, the list wasn't happening. End of.

Yes, they did try asking Wendy. Well, it was more Stan pleading Wendy to help them out, but she refused, something Kyle was thankful for. The sooner this whole list making thing was dropped, the quicker he could get on with the rest of his senior year. After all, he and Wendy has more important things to focus on – such as passing six AP classes and getting scholarships to their chosen colleges. If Stan wanted to waste precious time writing frivolous, pointless lists then he could go ahead. Wendy was not getting involved, and neither was Kyle.

It was currently Friday evening. Since Craig Tucker was hosting the senior Halloween party tomorrow night, Kyle saw this as an opportunity to squeeze in some extra studying so he didn't fall behind any of his classes. Since arriving home mid-afternoon, he had cooped himself up in his bedroom for the past six hours – it had to be close to nine, ten o'clock now? Regardless of the time, it was late, and the redhead was beginning to grow tired and weary. Who knew how dull and boring AP World History could get after hours of studying it. Ugh.

A gentle knock on his bedroom door snapped Kyle out of his studious trance, a quiet 'huh' escaping his lips as he glanced over at his slightly ajar door. "Come in."

"Kyle, Stan's at the door." The voice of his mother, Sheila Broflovski, crept through the nook before she poked her head inside. "Should I send him up?"

Kyle took a few moments to really study his mother's ageing face. The years hadn't been kind to Sheila Broflovski. Over the last few years in particular, the wrinkles around her eyes and her lips had become prominent features on her face, and her once vibrant hair had become a mix dull red and grey, with barely any shape to it. A few months back, Sheila had finally taken the step all elderly ladies do at some point, and cut her dying hair off into a short, chin-length bob with a side swept fringe. It was still taking Kyle some time to adjust to his mother's more mature lady aesthetic, the change had made him somewhat uncomfortable.

"Yeah." Kyle replied quickly, pulling his gaze away and looking back at his textbook. "Send him up."

Once Sheila had left, Kyle grabbed his page finder, and placed it between the pages he had been reading. Since Stan had decided to pay him a surprise visit, it meant an abrupt end to any study plans he had for the rest of the night. Trying to study while Stan was around was, to be blunt, pointless. He'd half-heartedly agree to get involved, then thirty minutes later distract Kyle with some YouTube video and that'd be the end of that. It was better to quit while ahead.

In short, Stan Marsh was the perfect distraction.

No more than two minutes later, Kyle heard the obnoxious creak from the rusted hinges on his wooden door echo through his room, and he visibly winced. God, he hated that noise. His parents insisted there was no point in fixing it since he'd be off to college soon, but it didn't deter from how irritating the noise was. Nevertheless, it was a clear indicator that Stan was here.

Stan didn't knock – but why should he? Kyle didn't knock before entering Stan's room. They were way passed that awkward phase in their friendship where they had to knock on each other's doors before entering. After all, they'd been friends for the better part of...what? Thirteen, fourteen, hell, maybe even fifteen years? Something ridiculous like that. Kyle would be more concerned if Stan did knock on his door before coming in. Way too formal, especially for best friends.

"Hey." Stan's voice caused Kyle to look up.

"Hey dude." Kyle smiled, turning around in his desk chair to face Stan. "Why are you calling over so late? It's like...nine o'clock, right?"

"Ten fifteen, actually." Stan said with a toothy grin and shut Kyle's bedroom door so it was completely shut.

Kyle reached up and removed his reading glasses, placing them on the desk beside his textbooks and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. He only needed them when reading close up, and usually he had contacts for that. He'd taken them out a couple of hours ago when he started to get ready for bed and man, he hated being caught wearing those black rimmed spectacles. Since it was Stan, it didn't bother him as much, but it was still embarrassing all the same.

Upon further inspecting Stan's face, Kyle could see his earlobes were tinted red and there was residue of wet snow on the tip of his nose and cascaded all over his red and blue hat. Either it was freezing cold outside, or Stan was in a clear rush to get over to Kyle's house and tell him something. Whatever the case, Kyle hoped it wasn't the latter. Usually when Stan had something to tell Kyle,, it wasn't good. It'd be something ridiculous like 'Kyle I fucked Craig's sister' with some sort of proud look on his face expecting Kyle to tell him job well done. That was Stan Marsh's kind of news.

"So...about the whole list thing..." Stan said as he sat on the edge of Kyle's bed.

"Boots, please." Kyle interrupted, gesturing to the snow and mud clad boots on Stan's feet. Stan simply laughed, and began to untie his laces promptly.

"Okay." Kyle said once Stan had slipped the last boot off. "Carry on."

"The list." Stan said breathlessly, pushing his gloved hand into his coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled, slightly damp piece of lined paper. "I did it."

Okay, never mind. Kyle would prefer the news that Stan slept with someone's younger sister over the news that he'd gone out of his way to make the list.

"You...did it." Kyle repeated slowly. He was unsure of whether or not he wanted to question this, although he had a billion and one questions running through his mind. Specifically why Stan made it and why he thought it'd be a good idea and why he wanted to show it to Kyle.

"Yeah!" Stan exclaimed with the excited gaze of a puppy lingering in his blue eyes. He scooted down the bed so he was closer to Kyle, albeit his redhead friend was still sitting in a chair. "Dude, aren't you proud? We did it without Wendy, without Bebe. We don't need them, dude. We can do this by ourselves..."

"Woah, 'we'?" Kyle asked, raising a thick eyebrow. Since when had Kyle participated in any of this list making?

Rubbing his gloved thumbs across the paper, Stan looked down. "Well...I mean...this list is about us, for us, so...I mean...yeah I made it, but we're in this together Kyle."

Taking a deep breath in, Kyle closed his eyes for a few seconds. Breathe in, then exhale. Repeat. After a couple of deep breaths, Kyle opened one of his eyes and looked over at Stan, who seemed to be hanging onto Kyle's every abated breath. Stan looked as though he was constantly on the edge of speaking, with his bottom lip quivering, positively trembling with the dire need to say something, Kyle could see it was killing him. When Kyle exhaled for the final time, he watched as Stan's eyes lit up, subtly, widening in anticipation while his lips parted to hold his own breath – maybe to stop himself from speaking. The way Kyle saw it was that it was pathetically adorable. Or adorably pathetic. Either way worked just fine.

"So let me get this straight." Kyle finally broke the silence, and watched as Stan relaxed. He pressed his own lips together in brief thought, before pressing on hesitantly. "You...made a list. And what sort of...list, did you make?"

"It's a list of everyone who thinks we're dating." When Kyle shot Stan an utterly horrified look, the raven haired boy continued to explain. "Not like...everyone everyone, Just the top ten people...stop giving me that look dude. I'm not that stupid. Do you know how hard it is to nail it down to just ten, though?"

"You're not helping Stan." Kyle bitterly snapped, furrowing both of his eyebrows together.

"Dude just...stop being a dick about it for five minutes and read the list. For me. Please?" Stan edged closer until his elbows were resting on Kyle's knees, producing the almighty list before him. Kyle so desperately wanted to roll his eyes at how utterly cliché Stan was being, but stopped himself, and snatched the paper from his hands. "Hey, careful, you'll rip it."

"I don't care. I'm reading your dumb list, be happy." Kyle flicked the tip of Stan's nose and Stan promptly sat up, covering his face with both of his gloved hands. Kyle couldn't help but smile when he heard a faint 'asshole' muffled from the fabric of the gloves Stan was wearing.

Taking the crumpled list into his hands, he unfolded it and squinted at the many crossed out names and arrows squalled all over the piece of lined paper. It was a mess, but Kyle didn't have the heart to tell Stan that. It had taking him longer than it should have to realize that the list put the first person last, and the last person first.

Why did Stan have to be so confusing.

Eventually, Kyle managed to suss out a coherent order.

Top Ten People Who Think Kyle and I are Dating

-by Stan Marsh

10) Sharon Marsh

09) Karen McCormick

08) Red Tucker

07) Tweek Tweak

06) Wendy Testaburger

05) Eric Cartman

04) Christophe DeLorne

03) Kenny McCormick

02) Sheila Broflovski

01) Craig Tucker

This was absolute bullshit. His own mother was on the list. Even Stan's mother, Sharon, was on the list. Since when were the adults back on the hype of shipping young boys again? Surely they were over that after the whole 'Tweek and Craig are gay' fiasco. Surely, surely they should know better.

"Why is my mom on this?" Kyle asked, pointing to his mother's name. "And the I in Sheila comes after the e, dude. If you're going to put my mom on here, at least spell her name right."

"Look, Kyle, I was writing this in a rush, okay?" Stan replied, slightly flustered. "I didn't want to put her on the list. But she was around my house a couple of days ago, and she saw me writing it and asked what it was about...dude, c'mon don't look at me like that. I can't lie to your mom. She terrifies me."

"You could've just told her it was something for school." Kyle said, folding his arms.

"What part of 'your mom terrifies me Kyle I can't lie to her' are you not getting, Kyle?" Stan asked dejectedly, a grimace on his face. "She insisted she should be on the list. She then demanded to know why she wasn't told about us being together sooner. What the hell was I supposed to say to that?"

"Okay, fine. Let's not talk about my mom and how creepily okay she is with us being together. In theory." Kyle quickly added, looking over the names again. "...Christophe? The French student?"

"Leslie says he's actually from Canada." Stan stated in a matter-of-factly voice.

"Dude I don't give two shits where he's from, why is 'ze Mole' on this list." Kyle demanded, eyes narrowing on Stan.

Stan let out a small sigh and pulled his legs in front of him so he could rest his chin between the space of his knees. He wrapped his arms loosely around his legs and looked at Kyle through the black strands of his damp hair. "So, okay. This is kind of a long story..."

"Just skip the details Stan and give me an explanation." Kyle rudely interrupted.

"Hang on! Hang on jeez...look. So, you know how you couldn't help me out with essay writing, yeah? Okay so one of the other AP students, Gregory, yeah? He's been helping me. And so, okay, one day Christophe comes along with him." Kyle could barely make out what Stan was saying at first, considering he was mumbling into his knees, but he nodded anyway. "So, in his stupid French, Canadian...I don't fucking know that annoying accent of his he's all...'why isn't your boyfriend helping you' and when I asked who he said you."

"Asshole." Kyle growled, scoffing slightly before shifting into a more comfortable position. "Whatever. His opinion doesn't matter."

"It does when the entire school shares that opinion..." Stan muttered moodily, breaking eye contact with Kyle.

Kyle rolled his eyes and nudged Stan's foot with his own. "Stop being so pessimistic. It's bringing my good mood down."

"It's not my fault the entire school and all of South Park thinks I'm fucking my best friend!" Stan protested, sitting upright.

"I never said it was." Kyle snapped, shooting a glare at Stan. "So why is Craig at the top of the list."

Silence fell over the room. Stan tentatively looked at Kyle with apprehension lingering in his gaze. From the way he had sucked in his cheeks, Kyle could tell Stan was anxiously gnawing at the inside of his mouth. Either he didn't have a reason, or there was something about his reasoning that Stan didn't want to tell Kyle. Regardless, Kyle was determined to figure out why Craig Tucker was at the top of this list.

Everyone else, to some extent, Kyle could understand. Mom's will be mom's, and ever since Tweek and Craig came out as gay, most South Park parents had been eagerly awaiting for another child to come out as gay to fulfil some sort of post-modern parent's wet dream. It was understandable. Kenny and Karen McCormick? Also understandable. Kenny was convinced that his two best friend's were dating, and who knows what sort of information he was feeding to Karen – true or false.

Despite how incredibly infuriating he was, Eric Cartman had earned his place on that list. After years of incessant name calling and having to put up with him profusely proclaiming how utterly 'gay' Stan and Kyle were for each other, he deserved a place on that list. Whether he believed his own spiteful lies or not, Cartman was more than likely the initial instigator behind the rumors. They all started with him.

Wendy Testaburger and Red Tucker? Understandable. Both the ex-girlfriends of Stan and Kyle, they had broken up with their former boyfriends because they believed the rumors were true, and thus, earned their place on the list. Even Tweek Tweak, resident theatre kid, deserved a place on that list. He had walked in once on Stan and Kyle still changing in the boys locker room, play whipping each other, and shrieked upon seeing it. Stan and Kyle had persuaded Tweek to not tell a soul and, to his word, he hadn't, but remained suspicious to this day.

So why was Craig Tucker on this list? That was something Kyle was trying to figure out. Of all people, Craig Tucker. He stayed out of everyone's business, usually. Sure he had been involved in spreading some of the rumors making their way around the school, but that was mostly down to Clyde. Clyde dragged Craig into all kinds of stupid shit by the looks of things – if anyone should be on this list, it should be Clyde, not Craig.

"So...Craig." Stan started slowly, taking a deep breath. "After lunch on Monday, he came over to me and told me he overheard us talking about making a list."

Kyle went to interrupt, parting his lips to talk. Stan immediately reached out with his still gloved hand and gently clasped his palm over Kyle's mouth and curled his fingers to rest against his freckled cheek. "No. Listen. He said it was a really good idea, but it didn't change the fact he believes we're boning one another, basically. He offered to help out and everything..."

Reaching up, Kyle curled his own fingers around Stan's palm and pulled his hand down, catching his breath before talking. "You decided to team up with Craig Tucker to make a list on who believes we're dating?"

"No! No, he just...like...look if you have a problem with him helping out dude, then you talk to him. He was really insistent, okay? I couldn't really say no...the guy's scary when he's staring you down..." Stan's voice grew weaker as he continued to speak.

Rolling his eyes yet again, Kyle scoffed. "What, are we still in elementary school, or am I missing something here? We're seventeen – dude you're eighteen and you still find Craig Tucker scary? I don't buy it."

Frowning, Stan attempted to raise his voice. "Then you tell him not to get involved, okay? I have a hard time saying no to people. You know that."

Groaning, Kyle pulled one of his pillows from behind him and shoved his face into it, screaming into the surface for a few seconds before raising his head again. "And people think I'm your bitch in these rumors. Seriously. If we were dating, there is no way you'd wear the trousers. You can't even tell Craig Tucker to fuck off. You can't even tell a lie to my mother."

"I am not the girl!" Stan proclaimed, moving so he was sat on his knees in order to gain some sort of height over Kyle. Instinctive alpha male technique, when threatened by another male, asserting dominance through height always seemed to work. "You're smaller, with like...soft skin, and curly hair. Like. Girly features and–"

"Go on Stan. Keep digging yourself a bigger hole. Don't mind me, Kylie Broflovski, the girl, with my heart shaped face and long, red eyelashes, and full, pink lips!" Kyle exaggerated, making theatrical hand gestures.

Stan snorted. "Your lips aren't full, dude. They're thin. And always chapped. What's up with that?"

"Yeah, it's this thing called being diabetic and experiencing side affects. I wouldn't recommend it." Kyle replied sarcastically, before letting a small grin slip onto his face. "God, dude, sometimes I really hate you."

"You called me a bitch and you hate me?" Stan asked, feigning offence. "Dude, harsh."

"Whatever." Kyle shrugged his shoulders before yawning. "I'm beat, dude. Do you wanna stay the night?"

It was Stan's turn to shrug his shoulders. "Sure, why not. I can sleep in my boxers, right?"

"I don't care."

On that note, Stan pushed himself off of the bed, and unzipped his brown suede jacket. With his gloved hands, he brushed the snow off of the shoulder pads before peeling the jacket off and letting it fall onto Kyle's bedroom floor in a messy heap.

Without meaning to, Kyle found himself looking up and watching as Stan slowly began to undress. The way Stan had bit the fingertip of his glove and slowly pulled his hand out of it – was it slow, or just a figment of Kyle's current imagination? Everything Stan seemed to be doing was slow, elongated, and precise. The way he pulled his shirt over his head, causing his hat to slip off and fall onto the floor. A glimpse at his exposed torso revealed tiny droplets of sweat residue collecting on Stan's aesthetically toned muscles, and when he reared his head from his t-shirt, Kyle watched as Stan shook his head from side to side in order to give his messy black hair some sort of volume.

Had Kyle not noticed these small details before? Did Stan routinely undress this way? He hadn't exactly paid it too much thought in the past. Albeit, as he sat there, lips partially agape, he felt a growing thud echo in his eardrums and his own chest tighten when Stan ran his fingers through his hair, and then let it fall in front of his face again.

Unaware of the faint blush rising to his lightly freckled cheeks, Kyle pulled his gaze away from Stan, frantic to find something else to focus on. What was so special about Stan undressing anyway? Kyle had seen him do it hundreds of times before. What was so different not than all those other times? Nothing. That's right, absolutely nothing. Stan probably smelt of sweat and cheap cologne he probably stole from Randy to make himself seem mature or whatever. Old Spice really didn't work for him.

Not that Kyle cared.

"Hurry up, dude." Kyle said weakly, unable to look at Stan once he was clad in only his underwear and socks. "I have to be up early tomorrow."

Looking over his shoulder at Kyle, panting softly, Stan spoke. "Why?"

For a brief moment, Kyle was lost for words. When his eyes locked with Stan's, it was as though his mind instantly went blank, and he had to force himself to not look at the edges of his skin. "I...just. I want to catch Craig before he goes to work. To talk to him about this."

"Oh. Right." Stan said, and walked over to the bed, sitting at the edge. "Doesn't he start at like, six in the morning?"

"Something like that." Kyle said under his breath, stealing a glance at Stan's collarbones before looking back up at his best friend. "I just don't want to prolong it. The sooner I talk to him, the less he's involved."

"Yeah, yeah." Stan replied, resting his hands on Kyle's hip and thigh, shoving him over slightly. When Stan touched him, Kyle couldn't help but jump in surprise, feeling his chest tighten once again, finding it difficult to catch his breath. "Jeez, why are you so jumpy, dude? Just move over. You're not hogging the bed."

Laughing nervously, Kyle scooted over. "You're the one who hogs all the covers, asshole."

Grinning at Kyle, Stan nudged him with his shoulder. "Well if you let me spoon you we wouldn't have that problem."

"Fine. If it means I don't have to suffer from hypothermia." Kyle replied without thinking.

The grin immediately left Stan's face until a look of surprise rushed over his frantic eyes. He seemed somewhat startled, and Kyle swore the faintest of blushes rose to Stan's face – or perhaps it could still be from when Stan came in not too long ago, red face and covered in snow. That seemed more likely.

"Really?" Stan asked a little too eagerly, then cleared his throat. "I mean, y'know. You have a single bed. It makes sense, yeah?"

"Yeah." Kyle agreed. He reached over Stan to hit his lamp light, and felt Stan shudder when his arm came into contact with bare chest. Was Kyle's arm really that cold? He hadn't realized. Stan, however, was a human radiator, so Kyle was thankful, in a weird way, he had Stan there to keep him warm.

With the lights turned off, Kyle rolled onto his side and waited in anticipation for Stan's arms to wrap themselves around his waist. It happened slowly, as though it wasn't actually happening but both boy's were imagining it was. First, Stan's fingers crawling across the crook of Kyle's waist before letting his hand, then his arm slide down to rest against Kyle's stomach. Then Stan's other arm, instead of wrapping itself around Kyle, it moved its hand to gently caress and play with the tufts of loose curls on Kyle's head.

Kyle promptly, and quickly, drifted to sleep.

There's no excuse for a year long hiatus but I will be updating more frequently now! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.