I really should apologize for the lack of updates on my current stories. But, I have a super busy life and I just don't have much free time. This summer I might be able to do some more writing though. :)

Just got this idea, wanted to jot it down before I forgot, so here it is. I'll keep this short and sinful.

STAN/KYLE SLASH (Kinda mild, but still sexy)

Please review!

Kyle's eye color and tattoos are © me (sweetfur). :P Haha... I'm totally basing him off of someone. Feel free to guess. It's pretty obvious.

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"Bombardment, barrage, curtain-fire, mines, gas, tanks, machine-guns, hand-grenades- words, words, but they hold the horror of the world."

-Erich Maria Remaque

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The thick mud pulls at me from the bottom of the trench. My black hair is encrusted with it, uniform drenched with sweat. The rumble of a tank encroaches on me, roaring over the consistent rattling of machine-guns. My heart pounds and I throw myself to the bottom of the trench, sinking into the mud, gripping the dirty earth with my bare hands. It is almost comforting. A shell lands somewhere near me and the entire front convulses with it's explosion. My face is pressed into the ground, eyes squeezed closed. In the confusion, I try to block out the world, clutch my rifle to my chest.

There is a sudden heavy weight on me. Another man has fallen into my trench. Before I can even wipe the mud from my eyes I have the barrel of my gun pressed to his chest. There is a roar above me as a fighter plane swoops down, blinded by enemy fire. I smear the mud from my eyes. The man in front of me is calm. He shows no sign of madness or aggression, yet his eyes peel my skin. One is a deep green, the other, a bright, sickly, wretched yellow. His eyes narrow, locking with mine. One of the sleeves of his uniform is ripped off, exposing a tan, muscular arm. A gash runs up the flesh, leaking blood. His hair is messy, going in all directions, brown with almost a gleam of red. His face is dirty and hard, unforgiving. A revolver is thrust into my forehead. He is the enemy, I should kill, kill him like I did all those other devils. But I don't. I can only hold his gaze, finger the trigger of my rifle. He is too stunning to destroy.

He doesn't blink, just watches me with rapt indifference. I can feel a terror, a terrible excitement rushing through my veins. I can feel my heart leaking for this man, I can not catch my breath. Slowly, I lower my rifle, my heavy boots sinking into the mud. The front seems to pause. In this silence I hear a low droning, a hum from a monster insect.I hit the ground hard as the bomb heaves the land into a roar, shaking it for everything it's worth. I can hear an agonizing scream, someone has probably been gouged by a flying splinter. The other man is down next to me, our faces shoved into the mud, unable to breath clean air. A second explosion rocks us, I can feel the stranger's arm around my shoulders. We curl up together, shutting out the world, firearms forgotten. What men we have become! We are broken and bruised animals, killing machines in a world of glory. I can feel my muscles flex as he caresses me, I do not understand his touch. It is too foreign and forgotten to me. I lie with the enemy in the midst of warfare, my arms around him, face in his neck, coating it with vile tears of hatred. The devil himself.

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My arms are around Kyle, my face in his neck. I don't cry, but smile. He traces my strong abs with a finger, the sheets wrapped around our bruised, broken, and sweating bodies. He still wears his football uniform, emblazed with the colors of the Park High Bulls. Another victory has been won, our cell phones tossed aside, voice mail receiving all of our congratulatory calls. My icy eyes are closed in simple pleasure, enjoying Kyle. Kyle with his mismatched eyes, sculpted body, tattoos that run up each side of his torso. The pattern of a skateboard deck. I kiss his cheek.

Our victory is every bit as sweet as our game.

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Wow. How random.

Please review...! I know, that was super short. Just something to post before I release the next chapter of MB.