1"Dude, just gimme fifty cents. Please?"

"No, Kyle!"

Stan had been going back and forth on this matter with Kyle for what seemed like hours. For Stan, the line they were standing in just couldn't move fast enough.

"Why the hell not?!" Kyle demanded to know.

"Gee, maybe because I don't want you going into a diabetic coma?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Come on Stan. One little ice cream cone's not gonna kill me."

"Kyle, it's not my fault you don't have enough money, and it's not my fault you're diabetic. I'm getting an ice cream for myself, and then we're going home. End of story dude."

"Fine, be a dick!" Kyle snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest to physically display his unhappiness with the situation.

Stan got himself a plain vanilla ice cream cone. As they walked home together, Kyle continued to fume silently. He watched in anger as Stan's tongue swirled around the cone, getting cool melted vanilla in and around his mouth. He had some nerve eating ice cream right in front of a diabetic sugar-lover like that. Still, Kyle had to admit, Stan looked rather cute with vanilla covering his face like that. It was just like when they were kids. Only now, Kyle could appreciate Stan's cuteness on an entirely new level. His angry face slowly melted into a smile faster than the sun was melting that vanilla, much to his own chagrin. He'd only admit it to himself, but Stan was right. It wasn't Stan's fault he cared too much about Kyle to help him attempt something that might be potentially dangerous. The fact that he cared so much at all touched Kyle inside. It warmed his heart and provided him with a much better feeling than any stupid ice cream cone ever would.

But he still really wanted some fucking ice cream.

They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the appropriate time to start moving again. Kyle grinned devilishly and moved up next to Stan, drawing his attention. Before the black-haired boy could say anything, Kyle leaned in and took a quick swipe at the remaining vanilla with his own tongue.

"Dude!" Stan exclaimed in protest. "Don't get your germs on that! That's MY ice cream!"

"Oh grow up. You could have bought me my own," he reminded him.

"And I would have if it wasn't dangerous!"

"I want ice cream!" Kyle demanded. He shoved his tongue inside Stan's cone, licking away quickly before Stan pulled the tasty treat away.

"Well you can't have any!" Stan insisted. "Stop it Kyle! Jesus!"

"You can't stop me Stan!"

"I can if there's no ice cream left, asshole!"

Stan's tongue started to frantically lap up what was left of the cone. Kyle did the same. Each boy furiously attacked the cone together, both their faces becoming coated in vanilla. They tried to nibble and lick at different sides of the cone, but eventually the inevitable occurred.

Their tongues touched.

It was accidental. At least the first time was. The second time, Kyle's mouth headed straight for the same last bit of vanilla that Stan's mouth was aiming for. Both believed the other was trying to psyche him out. Neither one cared that their lips might potentially touch. It was worth it to get that ice cream, and the other would surely back out anyway.

Neither one backed down. Their mouths touched, and it felt good. Better than ice cream. Their eyes opened in surprise, and they paused for a moment. Then, they remembered that there was a race to be won. The ice cream totally melted, they began to bite at the cone. As it got smaller, their lips got closer. Their mouths pressed together again and again with neither boy giving an inch or minding for a second.

Once the ice cream cone was completely gone, the boys laughed. Their shirts and faces were totally covered in sticky vanilla, and they were both greatly amused. The fact that they had put on this very gay, very insane display in front of many passing cars made it all the funnier.

Then the laughter stopped. They stared at each other. To this day, they don't know for sure if Stan or Kyle moved in first for the non-competitive kiss, but it didn't matter. The point is the other boy returned it. Passionately and eagerly. Their tongues wrestled briefly, cleansing each other's faces of the ice cream before the crosswalk finally gave them permission to move. Panting, they pulled away from one another.

"Come on!" Stan commanded once his tongue had returned back inside of his own mouth. He certainly didn't have to tell Kyle twice.

They raced for the Marsh house, practically tearing their shirts off once they were safely indoors. To throw them in the wash and get out the vanilla stains, of course.

By the time the night was over, Kyle and Stan had no doubt successfully burned off the calories the ice cream had packed onto their bodies.