As far back as Stan and Kyle could remember, they had always been best friends. Closer than any real blood brothers, they were an inseparable pair; South Park's own version of the dynamic duo. Wherever one went, the other would not be far behind. Even their parents joked that the two of them must be Siamese twins, attached to each other by the hips.

Still, despite the depth of their friendship, they had their own ups and down that tested it. Icemen, Guitar Hero, Asperser to name a few- every hazardous adventure, every shitty situation that stretched their tie to the very brink, only served in the end to strengthened their already strong bond. There was no doubt in Stan or Kyle's mind that the world may burn and go to hell, but they would always remain super best friends.

And perhaps it's because of that very strong conviction they had, their friendship was often called into question. They were too close. It wasn't normal for boys to hug or do sleepovers so often. There must be something more going on between them. The boys just rolled their eyes, completely used to the stupid accusations thrown their way by the idiots of the town. Cartman called them fags and butt buddies enough times that even Kyle didn't get riled up by the insults anymore. If people wanted to misinterpret and read deeper into their friendship, whatever. That was their problem. As for Stan and Kyle, they knew they weren't "gay for each other", so they didn't care what people said about them hanging out.

At least that's what they thought.

The first time they realized the rumor wasn't so harmless was about a month after they entered high school. For his birthday, Stan's parents bought him the newest PlayStation console as a present. Despite knowing Kyle was a big Xbox fan, it didn't stop him from inviting his best bud over to play with him when he turned it on for the first time. Later, he'd invite Kenny and Cartman over too, but for now, he preferred it if it was just the two of them playing with his new baby alone.

Things started off great. Both of them admired the graphics and the PVP aspect of the game. They joked, tossing halfhearted insults at each other when both of them died pitifully at the hands of a more experience player. As they do in real life, their characters stuck to each other like glue. There was safety in numbers, but also because if the other couldn't be saved, they both could die together. There was a morbid sense of security in that if Stan couldn't save Kyle's character, he'd off his character with no hesitation just so they could respawn in the same place. In turn, Kyle did the same. It set them back a few good hours, but neither wanted to level up and leave the other behind. However, like most games went, as they became more proficient at it, they got more ruthless.

And that rule quickly flew out the window.

Stan let out a guttural roar and threw his control down to the floor with frustration when he died for the fifth time in the last hour. "Will you stop fucking killing me? I actually want to get to the next city." Stan glared at his friend beside him.

Kyle just shrugged, a suspicious smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe if you stopped playing PlayStation games, you'd actually be good with PVP."

"Okay that's it, I'm tired of your shit. I'm taking your Xbox ass out, you asshole! Once and for all." Stan lunged at the redhead from across the couch and tackled him to the floor. They rolled around, their hats lost quickly lost in the scuffle. They pulled and tugged the collar of their shirts, trying to get a good grip to pin the other boy to the ground, but all they really accomplished was tear and dishevel their clothes.

Grunting, panting, the impromptu wrestling match went on for a few minutes when Sharon passed by with a basket full of laundry. With nary a glance their way, she commented offhandedly as she walked up the stairs, "No sex where the family can see you until you're at least 18, Stan."

The boys looked up confused; Stan's hand paused mid-shove to get Kyle to eat carpet.

"Wha dij ou mom zay?" Kyle tried to talk around the hand pushing his face against the floor.

Stan shook his head. " I have no clue, dude."

They brushed it off and continued to pummel each other like nothing happened.

Two weeks later after the first incident, the boys noticed for the second time something was not right. Somewhere between 7th and 8th grade when they actually had competent teachers, their homework started to count for something. Since then, it became a ritual for Stan to follow Kyle home after school and finish his assignments there. It wasn't because he was stupid or because he had difficulty with his homework. In fact, he was one of the more intelligent boys, but studying with Kyle just made him more motivated. In the comfortable silence of his friend's room, what would usually take him 3 hours to finish, took him only half that time.

After they finished their homework for the day, they randomly chose a movie to watch as they waited for dinner. When Kyle's mother finally shouted for them around 6PM, they scrambled downstairs in haste. They raced, shoving each others' shoulders playfully even when they sat down on the dining table. Stan was over so often, the Broflovskis no longer asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner anymore. If it was a weeknight, it was automatically assumed he'd eat with them. It's gotten to the point that Kyle's parents would ask where was Stan if he didn't stay for dinner.

It was like any other night at the Broflovski's house, except Sheila was more subdued and quiet than normal. Throughout the entire meal, she hardly said two words as she watched her son and his best friend complain about school and practice. When she could no longer hold her tongue, she coughed as discreetly as she could into her hand.

"Stanley, dear, are you busy tomorrow?" She said, interrupting Kyle in the middle of his spiel about Cartman's latest scheme to sabotage him.

It did not escape Sheila's notice when Stan immediately looked over to son for an explanation to her sudden question. A silent conversation flew between the two, not unlike when she and her husband spoke with only their eyes. When Kyle shrugged, Stan furrowed his brows from uncertainty.

"Uh, I don't think I'm doing anything tomorrow, Mrs. Broflovski..?"

"Oh good." Sheila dabbed at her lips with a napkin and smiled warmly at the boy. "As I'm sure you know, once a month we go to the synagogue to pray and to mingle with family and friends. Why don't you come with us? I'm sure Kyle will be happy to have his...," she paused, her gaze flickering from Kyle to Stan, "...friend to go with him. What do you say, Stanley?"

"What?" Stan jerked back like she had asked him if he was pregnant. "Uh..." Flustered and obviously uncomfortable, he tried to politely decline such an unusual request. "I'm not sure if you knew...but I'm kind of a Catholic, Mrs. Broflovski, so I'm not sure if your church will let me-"

"Synagogue. Not a church," she casually corrected him. She waved off his concern. "Don't worry about not being Jewish. We love it when someone outside the faith shows interest and come. As long as you behave politely and do what Kyle does, you'll be fine. Be ready around 7:30AM tomorrow and we'll pick you up. Oh, be sure to wear a nice outfit."

"Um..." Stan glanced over to his friend for help. It sounded like Sheila made up her mind that he was going whether he wanted to or not.

Rolling his eyes, Kyle sighed. "Ma, Stan already told you. His family is Catholic. Why would he want to go? He won't understand what's going on and it'll just bore him."

"Yeah." Stan eagerly jumped in, thankful for the back-up. "I'm not sure if my mom would be okay with that. I'd have to ask her first."

"Already done," Sheila said. "She's okay with you coming with us to the synagogue tomorrow as long as Kyle goes with your family to church on Sunday."

Now it was Kyle's turn to be shocked. "WHAT? I'm going to church?! What the hell, Ma?!"

"Language, Kyle!" She glared at her son, but it lasted for only a second. Her expression softening, she gently grasped his hand with her own. "Booby, your father and I, along with Stanley's parents, just think it's a good opportunity for you two to learn about each others' religion considering your relationship."

"My relationship with Stan?" Kyle's horror filled eyes shifted from his mom to his dad, who was wisely staying out of this. Ike shoulders shook with silent laughter as he recorded this entire conversation with his phone. "We're friends. Best friends. What does being best friends have to do with religion?!"

"Oh, booby." There was a hitch in his mom's voice. She released the hand she held and softly patted his cheek. "It breaks my heart to know you don't trust us enough to tell us the truth. But that's alright, baby. You can continue to be 'friends' with Stan, we don't care. We'll always love you. And Stan." She turned towards the other bewildered boy and gave his shoulder a consoling squeeze."We're happy to have you join our little family. If you like, you can call me mother, okay sweetie?"

Stan and Kyle's mouth moved, but as try as they might, no words came. Only noises that sounded like they were dying.

The third time was when they knew it was more serious than they thought. It wasn't just their parents being delusional like usual.

A full month passed since the whole synagogue thing with Kyle's mom. According to Sheila, since the two of them were still in denial, and thus not in as a committed relationship as she thought, she let the matter of Stan coming with them to prayer drop. However, if either of them started thinking about getting serious, she insisted Stan learn more about an important part of Kyle's life- especially if he wanted to treat her booby right. For a while, Stan was embarrassed to show his face in the Broflovski household. So they went to Stan's place after school instead, where the situation wasn't much better. Stan's own mother winked at the pair whenever they walked upstairs to his room; like she was on to them, but played along when they said they were going to do their homework, not some other more rigorous activity.

Luckily for Stan, with football season over, a chunk of his time freed up. He finished his algebra, English reading and started on his World History when Kyle walked up and lightly kicked him on the knee. "Dude, you ready?"

Stan slammed his textbook closed. He stretched both his arms above his head and gave out a big yawn. "Finally," he said with exasperation. "Damn, your tryout takes forever, Kyle. I'm bored as fuck."

The redhead rolled his eyes. This time when he kicked, it was a bit harder. "If your ass tried out for basketball like I told you to, you wouldn't be bored! My coach asked for you again. He thinks you'll be great. I bet if you tried out, you'd be in the starting team in no time. C'mon, man. It'll be fun."

Stan slung his backpack over one shoulder and shrugged. "Sorry, dude. I already told you, basketball is just not my thing."

The other basketball hopefuls walked past, clapping Kyle on the shoulders or slapping his ass as they said their goodbyes. Kyle scowled and flipped them off. "Yeah, see you tomorrow too, you fuckwads. Try not to choke on your own dicks."

"How about you don't choke on Marsh's," one teammate joked back.

"Fuck you!" Kyle yelled, giving them two middle fingers.

Feigning offense, Joe placed a hand to his heart. "I know I'm one fine piece of meat, but cheating is bad, Kyle. Try to restrain yourself, especially when your wife is standing right there."

Kyle sighed and gave a, "Really? We're doing this gay joke again?" kind of look. He shook his head in resignation. "Yeah, yeah. Do something about your halitosis and maybe I'll let you suck my balls too."

"Ooooh~ Watch out, Stan, I might try and steal your man!" Joe said with a grin. "He has such a way with words! Such wit, such prose! I'm surprised he's still a virgin."

Stan raised an eyebrow. "Who says he's a virgin?" He placed an arm around Kyle's waist and pulled him over until they were standing hip-to-hip. "And I'm the husband for your information."

Joe threw his head back and laughed. He gave the pair of them a salute before jogging off to catch up with the rest of his crew.

Hand still wrapped loosely around Kyle's waist, Stan scoffed through his nose. When football season was still on, he and Kyle got a lot cracks from his teammates about their "gay little friendship" that the two of them got really good at deflecting those types of jokes. Used to it, they took it all in stride and even hammed it up on occasion, just to spite people (mostly Cartman). The stuff coming out of Joe and the rest of the basketball team was nothing they haven't heard before by other people. So what if they waited for each other during practice and cheered on during home games? It's not that big of deal. Friends do that all the time. Everyone was just jealous they didn't have their own super best friend. If he and Kyle weren't secure in their masculinity and in their friendship in the first place, it'd be pretty hard for them to pull off all these gay jokes like it was nothing.

Stan grunted when he felt a jab in the rib by Kyle's bony elbow. He instantly dropped his hand from the redhead's waist. "Shit, what was that for?"

"Seriously? Are you for real?" Kyle said. They walked out of the gymnasium, walking side-by-side in a slow trek home.

Rubbing the sore spot on his side, the other boy shrugged his shoulders. "What? I was joking about ramming your ass obviously. You remember what that is right? The thing that you're not supposed to take seriously and you laugh at? Ha ha?"

"Duh!" Kyle said, his voice dripping with derision. "I'm not talking about the husband-wife crap. I don't care about that. I'm talking about basketball not being your thing. Are you for real?"

"Dude, get off my back about it." Stan scowled. He was starting to get annoyed with the topic. "I'm not playing basketball."

"Jesus Christ, Stan. Just because you're not the best at basketball, suddenly it's not your thing?" A pair of viridian eyes stared at him sardonically. "If you're not the star player, you won't play, even if we're on the same team? When did you become such an attention whore? Do you have a stage name for when you work in the street corner or something?"

"Man, fuck you." Stan punched his friend in the arm, and not that lightly either. "I don't see you joining the football team when I asked you to. So you got zero say about me not wanting to join basketball."

Kyle threw his hands up in frustrated surrender. "Dude! I told you! I asked my mom if I could try out for football and you know what she said." Scrunching his face, he mimicked his mother in a high-pitched voice, "Kyle, football is too barbaric a sport for my little boobely. What if you hurt yourself? Break a bone? Worse, what if your grades drop!? It'll be the end of the world as we know it!"

Stan laughed because that's exactly what Kyle's mother would say. He ruffled the ushanka adorning his friend's head before he stopped to drop his arm casually around Kyle's shoulders. "What? Is your mom afraid you'd break a nail? How'd you convince her to let you play basketball then?"

"God." The one word was filled with so much pain and suffering, Stan winced from sympathy. "She knows how much I love basketball and I practically had to get on my hands and knees before even listened to me."

"So what did you do?" Stan asked. "Finally let Cartman incarcerate her?"

"Dude! That's my mom!" When all Kyle received was a knowing look, he looked skyward and groaned. "Alright, I admit. I know she can be overbearing, but I still love her okay? You just gotta know how to handle her. I told her colleges nowadays look for more than GPA and test scores when they look at potential students. Extracurricular activities, especially sports, are important too. It'll look good on my applications. When I said all that, she said I could play as long as I can maintain a 4.0."

"Holy shit. Straight A's all four years?" Stan exclaimed, his eyes huge. "That's fucking insane."

"What can I say? My mom's crazy." A little dejected, Kyle sighed. "I'm hoping if I take some AP classes, I can get away with some B's here and there."

"Hey, don't worry about it. You're the smartest kid I know. If anybody got this, it's you." Wrapping his arm around the other boy's neck, Stan gave him an encouraging squeeze. "That means you'll try out for baseball right? Not going to wimp out on me?"

"I already told you, I can only play sports if I maintain a 4.0 GPA," Kyle said with disbelief, "and you want me to play baseball with you too? When did I agree to this?"

"Didn't you? Best friend, ol' buddy, ol' pal?" Stan cocked an eyebrow, reminding Kyle a little bit of Randy when he has that crazed determined look in his eyes.

A few minutes ticked by and Kyle started to sweat. Finally, he said grudgingly, "...I guess I'll try..."

Oblivious to the reluctant tone- Kyle swears Stan sometimes is the younger version of his dad- the blue-eyed devil grinned back at him. "That's all I ask, dude. That's all I ask."

The pair of them continued to walk down the street towards home. Sometimes they said nothing, able to find comfort in the silence, but often times they rattled off on random topics in a nonstop chatter. It was like they could never run out of things to say when they were together, even though they practically spent all their waking hours in each others' company.

They were talking about perhaps visiting Kenny, Stan's arm still carelessly thrown over Kyle's, when a woman stumbled and fell in front of them. The woman made no effort to right herself, but instead crumpled inward, letting out the most wretched wail either boys ever heard.

Feeling a tug on his shirt, Stan looked over. Kyle jerked his head to the right, indicating they should leave. Now. Stan nodded and they inched their way towards the other side of the street, well away from the sobbing woman in front of them. It wasn't that they weren't sympathetic to a crying woman, but this was South Park. For all they know, she could be a crazed serial killer. Anything was possible in their little mountain town. Anything.

They took no more than two steps, when the woman looked up and saw them through her tears. There was a moment of hesitation as the boys wondered if they should run for it or not, when- too late- the woman pointed at them and made a gurgling sound at the back of her throat. Before Stan or Kyle could react, she lunged at them. She grabbed both their hands, tugging them towards her until they could smell the stale stench of alcohol on her breath.

"I'm going to get rabies, I'm going to get rabies" and "Please don't have HIV, please don't have HIV" raced through the duos minds as she brought her face closer to them.

"You two bastards!" The boys visibly jumped at the raspy voice. "True love doesn't exist! It's all a fucking lie! That lying son of a bitch, I gave him my life and he left me for that whore!" She spat her words at them, her knuckle turned white as her grip tightened on their wrist. Her eyes, bright with tears and borderline insanity, bore into theirs when another sob tore at her throat. "...T-thank you. Thank you so much." Gratitude suddenly replacing the venom in her voice, the woman rested her forehead against Stan and Kyle's joined hands like it was a sacred thing. "I'm so h-happy I ran into you two. I thought my life was over b-because you know, the love of my life jilted me f-for someone younger. I thought love was a total lie, but then, when I look at you guys, I know that's not true. True love, soul mates, it does exist."

The woman let go their hands and wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. She smiled. "I just have to find the right person to share my life with like you two did. Thank you! I hope I'll be just as lucky!"

Stan and Kyle stood dumbfounded by what the woman said, what she implied. They stood in silence even when the woman bounded away from sight, leaving behind her chaos and turmoil. It was Stan who finally found his voice. "Did...did she think we were-"

"Don't say it." Kyle squeezed his eyes shut as if that was enough to block out the image.

Stan bit his lip. It was one thing when family and friends joked they were gay, but it was a whole another ball park when strangers started to do it. Suddenly, the joke wasn't so funny anymore. "You think the entire town thinks we're-"

"No."

"But Kyle, what if-"

"Shut up," The redhead snapped. Stan's limp arm fell away from Kyle's when he reached up to readjust his hat. "It's cold and we still got damn homework to finish. So move it or lose it, Stan."

Both boys agreed to never mention this again. This never happened.

The last and final straw that broke the camel's back came courtesy of Stan's dad.

The weekend school started again after Christmas break ended, Kyle spent the night at Stan's, something they did every Friday since they were 5.

Although it was only a matter of time before they overtook their parents in terms of height, at heart they'd always be little boys. Freshmen in high school and nevertheless, they giggled like toddlers as they made an indoor tent out of blankets and sheets; buzzed with excitement on the idea of staying up all night to play games and watch movies. A tad childish perhaps, but they were at the age where they still could get away with it.

Shoulder to shoulder in their sleeping bags , Stan and Kyle huddled together in their makeshift tent. A bowl of popcorn laid between them, but the junk food long sat there forgotten. 20 minutes into the movie, their greasy, buttered hands clutched their pillows to their chests and since then, refused to let go.

Horror movies nowadays were a complete joke, full of cheap scares and torture porn. However, the one Token recommended to them turned out to be pretty good. More suspenseful and intense than either boys bargained for. They weren't wimps, but fuck, who wouldn't get chills when the clock chimed 3AM and the creepy ass doll started to crawl its way towards the bed? Or the scene where the kids were stuck at a dead end, and every time the light flickered, the figure at the end of the hallway got closer and closer?

Heart racing, eyes glued to the laptop, the boys never heard the creak of Stan's door open. A shadow loomed over them, but the boys never saw. On screen, the mother reached forward with trembling hands towards her son and daughter. Her children had gone missing a week before. The police told her the chances of finding them alive were slim, but look! She found them! They were in front of her, she could see them in the mirror! They were standing behind her reflection, smiling. Her hands inched forward, almost touching the mirror's surface.

"Don't do it, you dumb blonde!" Stan muttered under his breath. "They're dead! They're going to kill you!"

Kyle clutched the pillow tighter, half-covering his face. "How stupid can you be? If she touches that mirror, she deserves to die, damn it!"

Her nails grazed the cool glass and hands the color of murky water slid against her palm. They wrapped around her wrist, pulling, urging her forward when-

"STAN!"

Ear splitting screams pierced the room when the boys finally noticed someone grab the side of their tent. Feet tangled, arms flailed as they tried to free themselves from the confines of their sleeping bags. The chairs supporting their structure fell and the tent collapsed on top of them. They struggled to find an exit when Stan heard his dad's voice. "God damn it, Stanley, what are you doing?"

The blanket suffocating them was suddenly yanked off, and Stan found himself staring up at the older Marsh. "Dad?" He blinked rapidly to clear his vision "What are you doing?"

"Me, Stanley? You're asking me what I'm doing? I should be asking you that!" Randy Marsh said, punctuating his every word with wild gestures.

Stan slapped a hand to his face. He wasn't in the mood to deal with one of his dad's episodes. "I don't know, Dad, what am I doing? I thought I was just watching a horror movie with Kyle, but apparently that's not it."

Randy stomped his foot, not appreciating the disinterested tone of his son. "Damn it, Stanley! I thought you played football! What, you weight 30-40 pounds more than Kyle's scrawny ass?"

"Hey!" Kyle got up from where he laid to glare, but Stan quickly shushed him. His dad had something on his mind and Stan didn't want Kyle to rile him up more than necessary. Already he had a bad feeling about where this conversation was headed. Hesitantly, as if to test the water, Stan cautiously replied, "Yes...I play football...So..?"

The older Marsh groaned in disgust. He pointed at the compromising position the two of them were in. In the middle of scuffle, Kyle ended up lying on top of Stan. And if that was not incriminating enough, Stan had his hands wrapped loosely around the redhead's neck and shoulders. To Randy's eyes, it looked like he interrupted an intimate moment between the two.

"If you weigh more than him, what the hell are you letting him pin you down?" Randy scowled down at his son. "Instead of taking it up the ass, you should be pounding that ass!"

Stan sucked in a horrified breath. "DAD!" He yelled. What new crap was coming out of his idiot of a father's mouth this time?! "Jesus fucking Christ, Dad! What the fuck?! Are you drunk again?! Kyle and I aren't-"

His dad wasn't listening anymore. He never did. He just threw his hands up in disgust and lamented about his own misfortune. "I knew football was gay when I heard players had to take ballet. I knew it!"

"But Dad-"

"No, Stanley! No!" Pausing dramatically at the threshold between the hallway and Stan's room, the boys could only see the back of his head as he sighed. "I understand if this is your lifestyle now. I guess...it's manly too. When I heard you were gay, I watched a lot of gay porno, Stanley, just for you. So I know...There's a lot of pain involved. It hurts taking it up the ass, it really fucking hurts." From where Stan laid, he couldn't tell, but when his dad's voice began to tremble, he was sure his dad was crying. Stan shared a look with Kyle and they both rolled their eyes.

"I guess only a true man can endure the pain...of taking a man's dick up their asshole. You're still my son, Stanley. My manly son." Randy sniffed as he finished his little speech.

When the doors closed, the boys sighed with relief as the hurricane that was Stan's dad left, but they spoke too soon. The door popped back open and Randy stuck his head back in sheepishly. "Oh, I almost forgot why I came in here." He threw a small black box that bounced off Stan's head. "Don't forget to use condoms, boys. Remember, safe sex is great sex! See you two at breakfast!"

This time when the doors closed, it stayed closed.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. He could feel a raging headache coming on. "I think my dad went from stupid to full on retarded.

Kyle didn't answer. Instead, he finally rolled off of his friend and flopped his head down onto his pillow. "I swear I hate this fucking town," he said, though his words were obscured by the downy feathers.

That night, they decided something had to done about that stupid rumor. It had gone far enough. They weren't fucking gay and especially not for each other. They weren't.

When school started back up on Monday, everyone will finally see just how straight they really were. Once. And. For. All.

A/n:

Holy moly this was a long prologue. Despite the length, this entire chapter was just to establish why Kyle felt he had to resort to "the plan" and a glimpse of the boys' friendship. Really, just setting up for the main meat of the story.

This story will hit tons of overused Style cliches, though I hope my take on some of them will still be interesting to some. I'll state now that I quite despise melodrama for the sake of causing drama, so don't expect too much angst or lamenting in this fic. Most of this is written with tongue in cheek as I'm sure you can tell by the tone I set already lol...