Stan didn't really care about what was in the newspaper. His dad kept asking about sports scores, Stan supposed in an attempt to coax him back into the world of football and cheerleaders, but he had renounced that years ago. He scanned the front page for the basics but the sound of a door unlocking interrupted him in the middle of reading about how one of the men fractured his arm after being tackled by the opposing team.

"Hey." Kyle called into the house, home with groceries he'd set out for about an hour ago.

"Hey." Stan returned, staring at the paper without seeing the words, waiting for Kyle to come to him. There was the sound of crinkling bags on the counter and Kyle unzipping his boots before quiet footsteps made their way over to the couch and Stan's favorite red head boyfriend crawled up onto the sofa with him and wedged himself under Stan's left arm.

Kyle nestled himself comfortably against Stan's chest and sighed contentedly, glancing at the paper to see what Stan had been up to.

"Sports again?" Kyle asked, knowing just as much about Randy's attempts as Stan did.

"Yeah. Dad's due to call in the next couple of days so I'm making sure he has nothing to bitch about." Stan mumbled, awkwardly propping the paper up against his leg so he could move one hand to smooth down Kyle's hair.

"He'll bitch regardless." Kyle said quietly, closing his eyes and letting Stan's fingers work in his hair.

"Well…yeah. But at least he'll bitch about why I don't play football anymore instead of how much time I'm obviously spending in bed with you if I can't even glance at a newspaper for the headlines." Stan rolled his eyes. Randy had actually said that once, rudely asking if Kyle had fucked the jock right out of him when he'd unwisely said he didn't give a shit about the Broncos progress in their last couple of games.

"I suppose."

Stan looked down at Kyle fondly, loving how he could feel little nearly inaudible hums of contentment coming from the boy as he relaxed to Stan's fingers. Slight vibrations passed through Stan's chest and he smiled.

"Hey. Speaking of being in bed with you…" Stan drawled slowly, smile obvious on his lips.

Kyle tried and failed to hide a small smirk, but blatantly ignored Stan and pretended to still be resting his eyes.

"I could think of so many ways I'd rather be scoring than on a field with a football." Stan continued, pressing a kiss to the top of Kyle's head.

Kyle chuckled quietly and tucked himself closer to Stan's body.

"I'm sure you're very imaginative, but I still have groceries to put away." Kyle said.

"Anything that'll melt or thaw out to inedible measures?" Stan inquired, folding the paper up and tossing it to the table beside the couch.

"I don't think so, no." Kyle frowned, trying to think, but before he could come to a definite conclusion Stan was shifting and awkwardly scooped Kyle up bridal style. Stan felt a twinge in his back, but nothing too painful so he ignored it…and Kyle's groans of both protest and amusement…and carried his red head into the bedroom they shared to show Kyle just how imaginative he could be.