Bullshit

There was that distinguished smell that Stan had. He smelled like shampoo and sweat and homemade waffles. It was an odd and boyish smell, but I still love it nonetheless. It tended to lean towards the intoxicating side and fuck; it smelt better than any other drug I could think of. And I'd be damned if I didn't get a giddy ass trip off of smelling him. It was unbearable, and anyone who knows me, knows that I have little if no self-control.

But, I took every ounce of willpower to bite my tongue and not attempt to fuck him into a wall. Especially considering my sex addiction.

Mind you, fucking difficult. But that wasn't even the worse part. It definitely wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't have that look going for him. The, I don't know, that distinctive Stan look. I mean you could go blind by looking at his ocean blue eyes for too long, and his hair looked. So. Damn. Silky. I mean, I guess you really couldn't call him anything more than averagely handsome. He looked normal, well-built from sports and all that shit but like one of those people you'd see in the background of a movie walking down the street of something like that, you know? I mean that he wasn't movie star material. (Me on the other hand... well I'll just wiggle my eyebrows and let you decide.)

But fuck, to me, the bastard was stunning. Like for example, how he'd pinch the bridge of his nose when he's embarrassed or frustrated? Adorable. Or when his eyebrows would quirk so slightly, contorting his plain expression into one of disbelief or give you that, 'you're bullshitting; expression? Amazing. Priceless. Fucking sexy.

I guess, I don't know, it got to me. Like, really, really, got to me.

He was so average and plain appearance-wise that it made it a distinguishing feature. Like you could spot him in a crowd for looking too normal.

Not that I couldn't recognize him immediately for his voice. I mean it's probable I guess because I grew up hearing it every day, but I swear I could recognize it immediately anywhere, no matter the situation. I'd know it was him. His voice was sweet and skeptical and optimistic and deep and husky(and that's when I know I'm gay or bi at least, when I think what's sexy about his voice is how deep and husky it is.). It one of those voices that can convince a person of shit, like it hypnotizes you. He'd probably make a great speaker or some shit with his ability to make people agree with him, his ability to clearly express his opinion(or maybe that's just my awed and jealous opinion, I've never been one for speaking in general). It's straight-forward, it's direct; it makes me knees kinda weak.

Speaking of how he makes my knees weak, whenever we end up touching for some reason or another I feel like those appendages were amputated again(yes, they've been amputated more than once) and either I'm floating on air or I'm coming crashing down to the cold floor. When he touches me I feel like I might explode or something. It's amazing and painful and wow.

This all wouldn't be so hard to bear if he wasn't one of my best friends. It wouldn't be so bad if we didn't always end up being ditched together as our two other best friends went on some epic battle to the death or something. For being our respective 'super best friends' they spent more time together being their own 'super best enemies'. Which I admit, when they fight, it's hilarious. And plus when they start yelling Stan does that super awesome adorable nose-pinch and my stomach gets all pleasant and knotty.

But you see, that's the problem: my stomach gets all pleasant and knotty and I really feel like scooping him up(even though he's bigger than me), and running off so we can have some awesome alone time.

And frankly, Stan's not one to take crap for too long. Like yeah, he'll try something out if it piques his interest, but he'll see that something is complete tripe and he'll do his best to back the fuck off from all that crap. And if he can't he'll send it tumbling to a halt. 'Cause he's just cool like that.

And I don't wanna Stan to not take my bullshit(even if it's so painful and real and is anything but bullshit) and to not wanna hang out with me anymore and ignore me.

Rejection stings like an open wound. I don't want the only people who've just accepted me for me to reject me.

Even though I'm not being me so they can still accept me for me.

Stan would probably be disappointed in me for my sheer hypocrisy. But what can I do?

Kyle and Eric are fighting and I'm trying to stifle a laugh. It's really amusing to see those two get their panties in a bunch about everything. They both care way too much. I glance secretly('cause my hoodie's super awesome and gives me that super power) at Stan and I can already tell that he's not amused.

We've seen the same scenes over and over and I guess it can be pretty easy to get tired of it. Me? I'm easy to amuse. Stan. He gets tired of BS with lightening speed.

'Cept, I'm not so sure that that's what he's fed up over. Maybe it was how his eyes kind of glassed over with some sort of emotion and his lips twitched into a frown. It's like he's holding back from doing something drastic. A part of me is curious, another is worried. I know what it's like to fight an inner struggle(fighting one right now): it sucks balls.

All of a sudden I realize how detached we are from the other two at the moment. They're in their own little world that we can look at from outside. For a second I see the red on Kyle's cheeks and don't take it as unadulterated anger.

Stan's gritting his teeth with his whole 'this is complete bullshit expression'.

"You know what?" He starts, startling all three of us out of our reveres. We look at our raven with expectant eyes, "You two should really get a room."

One comment caused everything to crash down. Panic and angry and fright circled the atmosphere. Kyle looked like he might murder Stan. Cartman looked panicked and flustered and frightful(which was hilariously out of character). I felt like a dumb ass for never noticing it earlier. Hysteria would be a nice term to describe the situation. I was lost and confused and freaked out, so I snapped my head towards Stan when he made a heavy sigh, all of us did in fact, he was the trouble-maker after all.

Except that was probably me falling straight into his plan of some such, because that's when he grabbed my hood and smashed our faces together.

Ow.

Well, I didn't see that one coming at all. First I was concerned over my other two best friends semi-disturbing(and hilarious) love life and then suddenly everything's crashing down on mine and hot damn his lips are touching mine.

Really, he hit me so hard that I couldn't even feel it till just now. I jump out of my skin as I let out some sort of squeak of surprise. My heart is attacking my ribcage, fervently trying to escape up my throat, and his lips are soft and kinda taste like chapstick and holy shit and whoa. I let out a gasp and then he slides his tongue in and fuck I'm no kissing virgin, but damn Stan is an amazing kisser. Why did Wendy ever dump him all those years ago?

He breaks away with an awesome smacking noise that makes the event just so much more real-er and glances back at the most likely stunned and gaping other two. I don't know I'm too busy looking at the awesomeness of Stan right now, dazed and very happy. I mean fuck that was the best kiss I've ever had, how good is he in bed?

"So, excuse me while I go get my own." He says with a smirk and then he drags me off, leaving the other two in the dust.

Oh please god(I know you hate me with how much you randomly smite me but) please, please, please, please let the whole getting a room promise be true, 'cause Stan tastes fucking addictive.

((Ending Notes: had no intention of putting Kyman in there but it was too tempting C whoot! Random Stenny lurv! This is hardly even edited and it was kinda written on a spur of the moment inspiration so if there's any mistakes I apologize x3;

-a busy Burbs!))