A/N: This is a Stan/Kyle one-shot that, I'll admit, I'm not too proud off. They don't seem very in character (IC) to me (Kyle particularly), but that might be because I tried to write this without too much dialog, even though dialog is usually the best method to use when writing for South Park.
Why did I try to write without dialog? Because usually, when I write, I tend to use so much dialog and conversation that I forget how to carry on the story. I was just experimenting in this, and I hate to say I'm not pleased with the results. Oh well, I thought someone might enjoy reading it, so I posted it. I would really appreciate feedback, so please consider leaving a review. It'd make my day!
Stan wasn't queer, and neither was Kyle, so he wasn't sure why he did what he did.
He had never held any attraction for the hard angles and strait lines of male anatomy – rather, he was like most other boys his age, and lusted after the smooth curves and long, scented hair of a female. He liked how girls looked, and the way they interacted with each other, and even their silly politics were endearing. He got on well with them, and liked it when he and Wendy went on the occasional date to the movie theatre or Stark's pond.
He definitely liked when Wendy kissed him with her lip gloss-coated lips and tangled her slender fingers in his hair, angling her head so they could stroke their tongues together all the better. He did like that.
So when one day while he and Kyle were playing Gamesphere on the Broflovski's couch, Stan leaned over and pressed his mouth to his best friend's without an ounce of forethought or hesitation, it was a complete surprise to both of them.
Kyle seemed startled, but not averse. He didn't move, he didn't close his eyes, he just waited for Stan to finish up. Maybe he was too shocked to move. It was a simple kiss, no tongues or anything, and it felt strange and unfamiliar, and Stan felt the inexplicable need for more.
When Stan finally regained control of himself and disconnected his lips from Kyle's, the two boys sat silently and gazed at each other, Gamesphere controllers forgotten in their limp hands. Stan was vaguely aware that panic should have seeped into his thoughts by now – dude, he'd just kissed his best friend, who was a guy – but rather he felt eerily calm and expectant. Maybe he was waiting for Kyle to explode, or run from the room, or react in some way.
Kyle just looked blank. His trademark ushanka had tipped slightly to the side from Stan's unexpected attack, and that coupled with his impossibly wide green eyes gave Stan the impression of a ruffled kitten. Somehow. His pink tongue darted out to moisten his parted lips, and Stan felt his gaze following it hungrily. It was weird.
Weird, because he wasn't queer or anything, and he certainly didn't like his best friend like that.
Maybe the first instance could be written away as a brief bout of insanity or curiosity, but if that was true, than what he did next was nothing short of complete and utter madness. And that's what it felt like to Stan – madness. He really didn't have any explanation as to why he suddenly found himself wondering what Kyle's mouth tasted like. Especially when he wasn't queer in any shape or form.
And he especially didn't have any reason for sneaking into Kyle's room that night and doing what he did.
Stan wondered idly if he had gone completely off his rockers, or if Cartman had slipped something into his drink in retaliation for stopping his plans to overtake Mexico using biological warfare. Cartman was fond of enacting revenge, after all.
Kyle hadn't said anything about the kiss during the remainder of the time they hung out.
He had definitely looked like he wanted to say something, and nearly blurted something out several times, but he must have held himself back when Stan resumed playing the Gamesphere as if nothing had happened. When Stan had left his house, Kyle was biting his lip and his eyes were confused and bothered. Stan didn't address it, and left.
That night, while he was twisting and turning in his bed, he couldn't help but think about how it felt to kiss his best friend. He wondered if Kyle could kiss – really kiss, with tongues and teeth and all – as well as Wendy, what his mouth would taste like and what texture it would be. What his skin would taste like, on his jaw line and under his ears and on his neck.
Maybe it was those thoughts that drove Stan to sneak into Kyle's bedroom that night, up a tree and through the window, or maybe it was the unrequited sense of longing that had sprung up ever since he laid his lips against the other boy's.
Maybe it was the feeling that told him it could've been amazing if it had gone on farther than it did, completely amazing and mind-blowing.
Whatever it was, it eventually landed Stan in his best friends room in the middle of the night, watching Kyle as he slept and feeling uneasily like a stalker. Something else he definitely wasn't. Besides, it wasn't the first time he had been in Kyle's room at night – but Kyle was usually awake and aware of his presence.
The gray-silver shadows and the gleaming moonlight streaming in from the now-open window played across Kyle's cheekbones, adding to an almost ethereal quality in his face that wasn't present in the daylight. Something occurred to Stan. He had never before found any particular beauty in the male form, not in the way that would make him queer – which he definitely wasn't – but there was definitely something in his best friend's face that called to him. Could he possibly be attracted to Kyle? Bebe and several other girls seemed to go crazy over his looks, so it was possible he was just curious about the male form.
Or maybe it was much simpler than that – maybe it was just Kyle. Kyle, who had been his best friend since pre-k and practically attached to his hip ever since. Kyle, who knew him well enough to read his thoughts and understand what he was feeling without hardly a word. Kyle, who stuck by his side in a number of impossible situations and yet still knew the appropriate time to call him on his bullshit. Kyle, the boy who was enough of an elitist to rival Cartman at times, arrogant to a fault and rather preachy as well, yet still managing to hold a sort of humble respect for authority and impassioned moral compass. Kyle.
Maybe that could explain all this madness. And even if it couldn't, it still didn't stop Stan from striding confidently yet quietly over to Kyle before throwing the bedspread back and snuggling in beside him.
Kyle woke almost immediately, eyes groggily opening to stare at his best friend. "Stan?" he mumbled drowsily, rubbing his eye with his knuckles. "What are you doing here, dude?" He was still half-asleep, and therefore not alarmed to find his best friend unexpectedly lying in bed beside him. Then again, Stan rarely alarmed Kyle, even that one time when Stan had pointed a loaded gun at his head.
In his drowsy state, he didn't seem to remember what had happened earlier that evening, but it probably returned to him pretty quickly when Stan leaned over to press their lips together once again. He kept his eyes open, watching Kyle's green ones spark in alarm. However, he inexplicably didn't pull away, which might have made Stan seriously question his best friend's sexuality if it wasn't for the fact that he himself was practically molesting another guy's mouth. If he could do that and not be queer – because he wasn't – then Kyle could certainly not be queer as well.
This wasn't like the first awkward kiss – this one, Stan introduced his tongue by lightly running it on Kyle's upper lip, gently prodding to enter his mouth. There was a second's pause, then Kyle had parted his mouth slightly, granting access to Stan's tongue. Stan languidly explored his best friend's mouth, wrapping his tongue with Kyle's, stroking it, producing pleasant electrical tingles in his nerve endings with the intimacy and pleasure. It was complete madness, especially since Kyle didn't seem to be responding.
He might have been worried about how Kyle seemed to be doing a rag doll impersonation, going completely limp and letting Stan turn his head this way and that so as to get better access to his mouth, but he was too caught up in reveling in Kyle's unique taste.
It occurred to Stan that maybe he should stop, for he was obviously making Kyle uncomfortable, but the truth was that he couldn't. A part of him he hadn't known existed was being sated, but it wasn't done yet, and he needed more from the boy who was his best friend.
If Kyle had stopped him, said no, pushed him away, resisted at all, Stan would've instantly backed off. He might not look his friend in the eyes ever again, but he would've put an end to his temporary insanity as easily as it had started. He needed this, but not at the expense of Kyle.
However, Kyle didn't say anything, for although he didn't seem altogether willing, he also didn't seem unwilling, and was tentatively starting to respond to the kiss in ways that made Stan's head spin.
Many things happened that night – Kyle wasn't complacent to Stan, taking as much as was offered, starting to dominate in ways that Stan shouldn't have been surprised at – and Stan couldn't help but take advantage of his best friend if he was letting him. He went pretty far with Kyle, farther than was probably appropriate, but Kyle never once complained, nor spoke out, nor told him to stop. Maybe Kyle had seen the slight madness that had taken over his brain, temporary though it might be, and he gave to his best friend what he needed.
The next day, words were exchanged, explanations demanded, and a deeper connection wrought between the two boys. Of course Stan couldn't have expected to just walk away from this, and Kyle certainly wouldn't have gone on forever holding his silence and questions – the fiery haired boy needed to understand what had driven Stan to practically molest his best friend so unexpectedly. Stan had very little to tell him, so instead, when it didn't seem that Kyle's motor mouth was going to cease, he pressed a simple kiss to his lips.
That shut Kyle up, in a very comfortable and pleasant way for both of them.
Maybe he wasn't queer, and maybe Kyle wasn't queer either. Hell, neither of them were, but that didn't stop the fact that they had a connection that ran much deeper than most friendships could claim. They didn't become boyfriends, or anything queer like that, but that didn't stop the occasional stolen kiss when the mood was right.
Because that was just the kind of friends they were. Queer or not.