Title: Anthropology 101
Author: RurouniKon
Pairing: STyle (Stan/Kyle) & Dip (Damien/Pip)
Rating: NC17 – Language, sexual content (later chapters)
Summary: Boys are put into groups for an Anthropology assignment. Stuff ensues. I suck at summaries. ):
Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, or any of its characters. If I did, it would be much more 'Slashy'. No, it belongs to my personal heroes, Trey Parker and Matt Stone.
A/N: The boys are about 18 here. Don't like Slash, BL, Shonen-ai, Yaoi, Homosexual relations? Don't read. It's Simple.
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Anthropology 101: Chapter one
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Anthropology has to be one of the hardest classes offered at South Park High. Most of the other electives were simple, easy credits. Professor Leakey, however, seemed to insist on making the student's live just that much harder. Her lecture style teaching and annoying metaphorical examples bored a lot of the students to the point where they were willing to stab the eraser end of the pencil into their left cornea just so they could have an excuse to leave the room.
Not only did this make her one of the highest ranked on the 'South Park High's most hated teachers' list, but it was her ability to hone in on close knit groups of friends and rip them apart by seating them on opposing sides of classrooms. An excellent example is what she made of Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman's group. Her seating arrangement for the boys was Stan being seated at the front of the class, with three rows of seats separating him from Kyle. Cartman being placed four seats across from Stan, and Kenny (had he bothered to show up) would have been seated in the empty desk, three seats from Kyle. She would tell the class at the beginning of every semester that she "split them up to help their concentration," and "in the long run, they'll thank her for it." Crap like that, which no student would ever take at face value.
So now entering the third week of their first semester, the senior kids who were unfortunate enough to receive Mrs. Leakey as their Anthropology professor, were suffering through another painstakingly, excessively, boring lecture on the medicinal methods of ancient cultures. The only student who was graced by the hand of some higher power was Kenny, who has neglected to be present. The other students wished death upon him. He was most likely dead anyway. And that thought brought them comfort. No one should be free from dealing with Mrs. Leakey's lectures.
"So, does anyone know what the term is we use for this process?" Mrs. Leakey's monotone voice drowned through the room, hanging lazily as it was lost in silence, "No one knows the answer? We have been going over this for the last three classes," She growls looking around the classroom of uninterested students, all doing something to preoccupy their boredom. "I know at least some of you must have done the reading." She barks, trying desperately to get the classes attention back. Unsuccessfully she begins scanning the room for a student to call on, "Phillip." She speaks pipes up. Damien raises his head out of the palm he had been resting it on, to watch the professor waddle her way to stand in front of Pip, his Pip. He had decided not long ago that he would claim Pip, and that no one else was allowed to touch him. He just had to work out a means of marking the small blonde, so that others would keep a distance.
"Yes Ma'am?" Pip replied, politely.
"What is the term we use for this process?" She repeats, slamming her hand down hard on the text book Pip had placed out on his desk, "Without checking the text book." Pip pauses and squirms slightly in his seat, choking on the overwhelming amount of perfume drifting into his nostrils from the teacher's clothing.
"Well," Pip begins, now growing more uncomfortable due to the closeness of the professor to himself, "The term most historians would use is trepanation." He replies, trying to inconspicuously pull back as far as he can to try and suck in clean gasps of air. She pauses and raises a brow, surprised that she didn't catch him off guard.
"Very good," She replies, "Can you explain to the class what this process is done for?"
"It's a ritualistic removal of a fragment of the skull, creating a hole. It was used for both medicinal and spiritual purposes, being that many ancient cultures of whom practiced this surgery believed it was going to help the patient be relieved of any pain they were experiencing." Pip answered. Damien smirked; he sure was a smart kid. The professor groaned, mumbling something under her breath as she waddled back to the front of the class and continued the lecture.
The rest of the class continued the same, as it discussed the vaguest topics one could imagine. They may have only been into this class for a couple weeks but you would have thought in that time they would have already completed the introduction into the four fields of Anthropology. "Alright then class," The professor spoke up, glancing down at her watch, "Class is concluded for the day, and please do your readings on the four fields so your groups can select one of them for their assignment." The class froze and stared at the teacher like a deer caught in the headlights of a SUV. Damien watched as a subtle smirk twitched at the corner of her lips. "So you are paying attention," She cooed, watching as the students frantically shoot worried looks amongst themselves. "Yes," She grins, crossing her arms over her chest, "You have group assignments; they're due in two weeks." At the words 'group assignments' the class let out a sigh of relief and proceeded to scan the room for eligible partners. Group assignments meant less work and a better chance at a higher grade. Well, for some of the students at least.
"Sweet," Cartman chirped from the back of the room as he turned his head and called over to Butters, "Ay! Faggot, you're on my team." Butters simply slammed his knuckles together, grinding them in embarrassment.
"W-Well, gosh Eric… I'll be on your team." He replied timidly.
"Hold it one second Mr. Cartman, you cannot just tell Mr. Stotch that he is your teammate." The professor growled, pushing her tiny eye glasses up her nose.
"Why the fuck not?" Cartman snapped, never outgrowing his disrespect for authoritative figures.
"Because," She started, forcing down the anger towards the fat teen for cursing in her class room, "I'll be selecting the four person teams." In one swift groan the entire classroom whined at the news. "I have the list here." She explained, waving a small piece of lined paper in the hand. Clearing her throat she proceeded to ramble off the names. "Team one, Eric, Token, Clyde and Wendy."
"Why do I have to work with that bitch!?" Cartman snapped, slamming his hands against the desk.
"Screw you Cartman!" Wendy growled three rows behind Cartman.
"I wasn't talking about you, ho!" Cartman barked, "I meant that asshole Token. He's a bitch, Clyde's a dick and you're a ho!"
"Enough!" The professor snapped from the front of the room, messaging her temples. "You will deal with your team and that's final!" There was a short staring contest between Cartman and the professor, but the teen soon gave up and sufficed with irritating Wendy. "Team two is Craig, Kenneth, Tweek and Jimmy." There were no complaints, just a quiet 'Gahh' from the back of the room. "Team three is Rebecca, Bebe, Kevin and Leopold." No complaints from that group either. "Finally, team four is Stanley, Damien, Kyle and Philip."
"Yes!" Stan punched the air over dramatically and then paused, scanned the room and slumped down in his seat. Kyle giggled, covering the blush creeping across his cheeks.
"Each group will pick one of the four fields of Anthropology we've discussed over the last few classes," She explained, "You have tonight to read over the four fields and tomorrow you come in and select, first come, first served. So I suggest you read up on all four." This gained another groan from the class. The professor sighed, "There are four of you in each group, just have one of each of you read up on the individual fields." She suggested as the bell chimed and everyone scrambled out of the room like their asses were on fire.
Damien's POV
I walk to my locker, tossing my heavy Anthropology text book onto the top shelf, and slamming the door immediately following. My ears pick up on the sound of foot steps behind me, "So," I turn and see Pip standing there, avoiding eye contact, "We need to work with Stanley and Kyle on this assignment."
"Lucky us," I scoff, closing the lock on my locker.
"Kyle said we could meet in the library to get some extra information before we start our assignment." He explained, still keeping his eyes locked on the tile floor under his feet. I groan, turning completely, grabbing his chin with my hand, and tilting his head up forcing him to look me in the eyes.
"You can look at me Pip," I say as softly as I can muster, "I'm not going to kill you for it." He squeaks and steps back.
"I kn-know that…" He mumbled, turning on his heal and heading toward the library. "Are you coming, Damien?" He calls to me, not looking back.
"Yeah." I reply as I follow him.
