Mana here. I bring to you a second installment. It's 11:42pm and I have school tomorrow AND I'm extremely tired. By the way, these drabblets don't really follow any sort of pattern or theme. They just come in the order that I think of.
I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but:
DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park.
Ok, here's Hands. Hope you enjoy.
Hands
Kyle Broflovski's hands were the most beautiful thing to Stan.
They were pale, smooth-looking, flawless, and probably cold.
Stan watched as his best friend's hand flew about his assignment sheet, guiding his pencil in writing the answers.
He looked at his own hands and grimaced at them.
They had marker stains all over from art class in the morning and dirt from recess piled underneath his chewed up fingernails.
He looked over at Kyle's nails; perfect, as expected.
Being the rich, Jewish kid he is Kyle probably gets them manicured every week.
That's a stupidly hilarious thought; they're only 8 after all.
Stan sighed, knowing he could never be of worth to his best friend.
"Stan!" Mrs. Garrison's voice woke him from his daydream, "did you not hear a word I said?"
"Uh…"
Mrs. Garrison sighed. "Pick a partner and go research the Berlin Wall."
That sounded relatively easy.
Naturally, Stan picked Kyle and selected a part of the classroom library farther from the rest of the class.
Stan hid his hands in the sleeves of his jacket, self-conscious about the messiness of them.
Especially in front of Kyle.
"Are you cold?" Kyle asks him, noticing his act.
"Yeah," Stan lied.
But it was Colorado, and it was snowing outside. Most likely one would think he was cold.
Stan continued reading the topic silently and tried to write down information in his notebook.
Tried being the key word, seeing as that he could barely write with his hand in his sleeve.
"Are you seriously that cold, dude?" Kyle asked him. "Because I could write it down if you read it to me."
Kyle took Stan's notebook, while Stan took a glimpse of Kyle's perfect hand.
Right there, in front of him. So perfect, so smooth.
"Ok, ready?"
Stan broke from his stupor and began to read.
"After World War II, Nazi Germany was divided into four regions in ordinance with the Potsdam Conference…"
They continued this for ten minutes until Stan had to turn the page.
He found this to be very difficult, due to the fact his fingers were away from convenient use.
In the end, Kyle licked his own fingers and turned the page for him.
Stan blushed but he tried to hide it.
"Are you ok?" Kyle asked.
"I'm fine," Stan said quietly.
"Ok, you know what—"
Kyle took Stan's hands and pulled his sleeves up, just to see how cold they really were.
Stan gasped.
Kyle's ice cold skin met with his warmth. His hands were soft and smooth, as he had predicted.
Their hands fit perfectly. It was as if they were made for each other.
Seconds passed.
Kyle gasped now.
"Liar, your hands aren't even cold!"
"I'm sorry! Look, I—"
Stan blushed harder. Shit. He was caught.
He pulled his hands away but Kyle grabbed them back.
"I didn't say let go."
"What?"
"My hands are cold. Could you warm them for me?"
Stan smiled; relief. His best friend wasn't mad at him.
"Sure thing."
XX
Nice…I think. Probably my last one for tonight.
