Warnings: Drug use and language

This was originally written for a good friend of mine, Sakata Ri Houjun, for the South Park Valentine's Day exchange over on tumblr! Thanks to MargaretDelancy for being beta on this for me.

"We should totally, like. Go somewhere."

Red puts down the pipe and stares Stan down, snorting out a laugh before resting his head in Stan's lap. "You really wanna go somewhere when we're this high?"

Stan shrugs, and shrugs several more times, because his body feels tingly and he apparently likes to shrug. "I dunno."

"Okay..."

Stan goes cross-eyed and looks at the bangs hanging down in front of his eyes and blows up at them repeatedly, his heavily-gelled, thick, raven hair unmoving. "We should though. Seriously. 'm hungry. And I wanna go somewhere."

"You trust yourself this high?"

Stan laughs at that and they both share a silent sentiment that says 'maybe not' and then Red is getting up and leading Stan up and outside onto the roof. Red lives in the attic and there's a skylight in the room that leads outside. One of Red's favorite things to do is get very very high and lay outside on the roof, contemplating life and staring at the stars.

It's not nearly as dark as it usually is when they're out here, but it's dark enough that they can see the first stars of the night and Red curls in to Stan, letting his body go numb as the weed finally overtakes him. He starts to close his eyes, and he feels Stan take his hand. Red smiles softly at him, but doesn't say a word as his eyes finally slip closed.

"It's Valentine's Day," Stan says, a lot more perkily than Red likes. Red lets go of his hand and mutters, "No, it's February 14th."

Stan turns on his side and nods, eyes wide. "Yeah, it's Valentine's Day. We should do something!"

Red sighs and presses two fingers into his eyes before he gets them open. He doesn't have to see himself to know they're bloodshot. "And where exactly would we go, O Wise One? Yes, it's Valentine's Day. Which means every fucking conformist asshole is taking up every establishment ever celebrating their fucking greeting card holiday. Where would we go?"

Stan pushes out his lower lip. "I dunno. We could just, go and like... walk. I like to walk." He shrugs.

Red stares at Stan incredulously. "I am not high enough for this," he mumbles under his breath. "Okay. So you make this big deal about Valentine's Day – which you know I hate – and now you say you just want to walk?"

"I don't know!" Stan exclaims, sitting up and tossing his arms into the air. Stan startles Red and wraps his arms around his legs, bringing them up to his chest. Even holding himself like that, Stan still shrugs. He really likes to shrug. "Like, I'd like to take you out and shit, but you always seem so against it. I mean, we don't even have to go out as like... as like, boyfriends or whatever, but I just – want to spend time with you! I mean, we can go out as boyfriends if you want to – if you. If you, like. Want to be. Whatever." He rests his head against his arms and looks down at the shingles on the roof, not expecting an answer from Red.

Red's face is probably as red as his roots as that point, because Stan said the word 'boyfriend.' Yeah, he'd liked the idea of that word but he didn't know what they were. They hadn't even kissed! He'd had to deal with jerking off into socks just about every time Stan left his house and let that be enough. But he definitely wanted to kiss him. Oh fuck, did he want to. But he didn't know what the fuck they were.

Stan started hanging out with the goths again once he had another breakup and Red had given him a nice, stern talking-to, letting him know that the goths were people too, and they could be friends – actual friends – whether Stan dressed in black or not. They all liked Stan and always had, but Stan seemed to only seek them out when he was depressed.

After a while he'd only sought out Red. Just him. He'd gotten his phone number and would start coming over to Red's house and he'd tell Red about what was bothering him – his sexuality, his home life, whatever, and in turn Red had opened up to Stan and they found themselves at eachothers' houses, sharing their beds and their hearts. But never anything else.

Red feels his cheeks still burning and he lifts a hand to touch one of them, then nods. Knowing Stan can't hear him nod, he finally says, "Let's go to Taco Bell."

They walk to the Taco Bell near Red's house. Five Doritos Locos Tacos later (all for Stan), they're walking together with no real indication of where they're going. They're laughing about absolutely nothing and Red is trying not to gag at the atrocity that is a Doritos Locos Taco. "How can you fucking eat that thing?" Red asks while he takes a huge bite of his Crunchwrap Supreme, loaded with Fire sauce.

"Dudeshutup," Stan says, his words slurred as he speaks with his mouth full. He swallows and wipes his face with the back of his hand and steals the Dr. Pepper out of Red's hand to wash it down. "Like, these are fucking delicious. Foodgasm-worthy."

"Well, you did get 5 of them..."

"I had the munchies, don't judge me!"

Red laughs and scarfs down the rest of his Crunchwrap, not bothering to cover up the loud belch that escapes him afterward. Stan shrugs and holds up a few fingers, showing his disapproval and Red scoffs, shoving him against a pole. They continue their little push-and-shove flirting game and then Stan points ahead of them. "Dude. Let's go there. Oh, fuck. There's a cemetery too! Come on, dude!" He grabs Red's wrist and then his fingers slide down to grip his hand, and he laces their fingers together. Red looks down and raises his eyebrows at what's going on but he smiles as his lips wrap around the straw of his drink and they take off into a run.

"Duuuuude," Stan draws out as they look up at the building in front of them. "How have we never seen this before?"

"We?" Red looks over at Stan and laughs, chewing on his straw. "You haven't because you live on the other side of town. It's been there for, like, ever. There's no telling what it is, though. Looks like it could be like a fucking drug lord's house or something."

Stan's face breaks out into a grin and he picks up a rock, chucking it at a window. The building looks run-down and like it hasn't been lived in for at least thirty years. Or maybe like someone started building on it and never finished. It's a small, one-and-a-half story wood paneled house, painted white with several windows. It looks like something out of a horror movie, the groundkeeper's house in the middle of the cemetery or something. The chimney's missing bricks on the outside, and the door is cracking and half-open because it doesn't sit right on the frame. "Should we—"

"Fuck yeah." Stan finishes Red's sentence before he has a chance to get the rest of his thought out and he grabs his hand again. Red is led into the house by Stan and he stays close behind him, his eyes taking a bit to focus not only due to the darkness but because he's high as fuck and everything is still blurry.

Stan's running up the stairs before Red has a chance to think, and his fingers tighten in Stan's grip. He suddenly doesn't want to let go. The place feels musty and forgotten, but at the same time gives him a serenity that he hasn't felt in a long while. "This place is so fucking pretty. I'd love to live here..." Red outstretches his free hand and tilts his head while he runs his fingers along the dusty wall, turning up cobwebs.

"You could paint it black," Stan says, turning around when he gets to the top of the staircase. There really isn't much to the house; it was probably a guest house or a converted storage unit for someone. He motions for Red to stand next to him while opens up the window and leans out, coughing as dust flies through the air. "See, perfect for you. Look at that view of the cemetery. I wonder if it's like, legal to live in a cemetery."

"People would be scared of me. I'd be like a legend."

"Aren't you already?"

Red tosses his hair and laughs, sighing happily as he stares out the window. The weather is perfect for a night in February: there's not a drop of precipitation on the ground, they don't need coats, and the sky is so clear you could see from here to Timbuktu. "Have you ever wondered like how we all fit into the universe? Like how each of our lives are meant to intertwine with everyone else's?" Red just stares at Stan, so he goes on. "It's like the stars, man. They all look the same to us but every single one of them is so different and they're all up there for a reason. Like certain stars are always in the same place at the same time and make the same constellation, but we'd never know because they all look the same to us."

Red chuckles and plucks the pipe from his pocket, which gets a shocked – albeit pleased – look from Stan as he lights up.

"Like, I think people are meant to find eachother, one way or another, just like the stars."

"You are strangely energetic and philosophic when you're high. I'm, like, lazy and just want to sleep and jerk off," Red says from around the pipe while he lights up again. He sucks in the smoke audibly and hands it off to Stan, holding it in until his lungs burn. The house smells strongly of his weed now and he smiles; he's left his mark. "Come on," he says, flipping his hair in the direction of the cemetery.

Stan takes a hit or two before they exit the building and he follows Red. They walk slowly around the cemetery, mulling around the different gravemarkers, sometimes stopping to admire how young people were when they left this earth. As easily as it had before, Stan's hand finds Red's again, and he rubs his thumb slowly along Red's. Red lets out a shaky breath and looks away from their hands, trying to focus on breathing steadily and not the fact that his heart started beating fast, his mouth was suddenly dry and wet at the same time and his cock was starting to twitch in his pants. If he gets a boner out here in the graveyard where he can't do anything about it, oh he's going to be so fucking pissed.

Stan hasn't stopped waxing poetic since they started walking, and Red can't help but laugh. "Stan, dude. I know you think you're philosophic, but dude? You're not making sense. And that's coming from someone who's baked as fuck! You're so high, dude!" Red collapses onto the ground and holds his stomach while he laughs, and Stan pouts from above him, clearly offended. Stan is so very poetic! He is the voice of their generation! Red starts snorting and tears leak out of his eyes, causing eyeliner to streak down his cheeks. "Oh, fuck," he mutters as he looks up and wipes his face. "I'm... shit, dude, I–"

Red doesn't get much more out of his mouth before Stan is down at his level and is straddling him, catching Red's gaze. Red's eyes are wide and he's trying hard to focus, but he can't. And then before Red can speak again or push Stan off, Stan is kissing him, just a brushing of his lips against Red's and Red swears there is fucking fireworks behind his eyelids. Even so, he's really too shocked to do more than just be and he's frozen.

Stan pulls back as quickly as he starts. "Sorry, I–" Just as he's about to pull himself off, Red grabs Stan by the collar of his shirt and pulls him back down, moaning softly while he kisses him. Stan kisses back as soon as their lips meet and he cranes his head so they fit perfectly. Red's not kissed many boys before – and he's sure Stan hasn't either – but it's still so fucking perfect, because it's not perfect. There's too much saliva and they both taste too much like Dr. Pepper and Taco Bell and marijuana, but neither one of them makes any effort to pull away.

Red's hands move up from Stan's shirt to his hair and they kiss a little longer, getting a little more daring before they lose momentum and have to breathe. Stan rests his forehead against Red's and he smiles, breathing out "Fuck..."

"You're... a fucking... asshole," Red responds, socking Stan on the forearm. "I've wanted to kiss you for so fucking long. Why the. Why the fuck did it take you so long?"

Stan sits up, his cheeks flushed. "I didn't know when I could do it."

Red rolls his eyes. "Hm, I dunno. Maybe the moment I said 'I'm gay'?"

"Well just because you're gay doesn't mean you'd want to kiss me!"

"Ugh, don't tell me you really are a stupid fucking meathead," Red says, turning away, his own face getting red. He'd basically hinted to Stan every time they were alone since they were twelve that he had a crush on him. How dense could one guy be?

Stan smacks him in the chest. "I resent that." He crosses his arms and pouts like a petulant child. "I may still play football and shit, but I'm not stupid! I'm not... just gonna, like, make a move on someone just because we both happen to like the same sex. That's like, against how my mom raised me." Stan climbs off Red and lays down next to him, looking up at the stars.

Red looks over at him and laughs so quietly that Stan barely hears. "Mama's boy."

"Okay, but like... once you meet my mom, you'll see why," he grins, and he curls into Red, like they always end up doing after one of their many chats together. Red seems to be taken aback this time, but he settles against Stan and lets Stan play with his hair. "But seriously. I like. I've wanted to kiss you for a long time too. And I know you hate Valentine's Day, but I wanted to like, do something that you wouldn't find stupid or 'conformist' and shit."

"Please, go on." Red wraps his arms around Stan and Stan responds by rolling his eyes and sitting up so he can look down at Red and not have to crane his neck.

"So maybe I waited because I wanted to give you a reason not to hate Valentine's Day."

Red snarls and scrunches up his nose. "And what if I still hate it?" Stan grins and leans down to kiss Red again, effectively turning him into a pile of goo and melting away his hard center.

"I don't think you can."

"And why is that?"

"Because Valentine's Day is the day when Stan Marsh finally kissed you."

Red pulls Stan down and curls into him, kissing his shoulder. "I still fucking hate Valentine's Day." He scoots up on the ground and moves so that he's close to Stan's ear and whispers, "But maybe, just maybe.. I might hate it a little less now."