Sorry for the delay! I've been glomped by work, reports and illness. D:

Anyway, I'll update much quicker, I promise! Hope you like the new chapter!

Thank you to all reviews, PMs, adds and fanart!!!

Stan was staring at the redhead as he jotted notes, so woebegone. The poor boy, he hated when Mrs. Barnes sent for a substitute. His heart bumped up against his chest as he remembered what he had thought of two days prior; being so close to Kyle, doing something so close with Kyle…he couldn't stop thinking about it. Stan glanced behind him and two seats away was Kenny, passing two notes to two different girls; considering the expressions on the girls, the folded little papers concealed some flirtatious and appealing offer. They both started giggling and Stan just shook his head and looked back to his Super Best Friend. His eyes settled on the boy's gentle hands, positioned in his binder to simply slip the middle rings through loose-leaf. His eyes lowered and fogged with an image melting back into his vision, as Kyle shut the rings and patiently pressed his digits down the margin to flatten it in fashion with the other ironed papers, Stan replaced the paper with himself. Kyle's slender fingers slid down his chest, fanning out above his abdomen to admire the hardened and sports-carved appearance as Stan's more masculine hands took hold of Kyle's jaw, leaning down and kissing his neck. Kyle's head slowly leaned back, giving his best friend more opening in the crook of his neck before he murmured,

"Stan…"

Stan pulled back to look the redhead in the eyes, his gorgeous, ivy eyes; Kyle's bedroom eyes tantalized, wooed the daydream Stan as he whimpered again,

"Stan…" His hands curled around Stan's sides as he shifted onto his toes a little, bringing his face closer, "…kiss me…"

Just as the daydream was taking a steamed turn something shocked Stan in his pants. Unfortunately, it was not something that was about to calm his current tension. He reached in his pocket, pulling out his cell phone that still vibrated.

Text Received at: 12:56 P.M.

From: Pimp Daddy K. Shmoove

I fricking hate substitutes. W T F is Mrs. Barnes?

Stan snorted in a laugh to himself; he truly knew Kyle too well. He smiled replying,

Text Received at: 12:57 P.M.

From: Dr. S. T. Slim

I know dude but didn't u say shes getting a divorce? Maybe she had papers or something to do today

He watched the boy pout childishly,

Text Received at: 12:58 P.M.

From: Pimp Daddy K. Shmoove

That's retarded. She should be here, grading my syntax paper.

As Stan was in the middle of typing back the bell rang and he shut his phone, cancelling the message and walked over to his friend. Kyle still seemed in a pouty mood, so Stan reminded,

"Well, you know, dude, at least it's ninth period now and then we can go home soon."

Kyle sighed, "Yeah, I know, I've just been really depressed lately."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sorry if I'm a total buzz-kill."

Stan grinned, pushing Kyle's shoulder, "Don't be retarded, you are my buzz."

They stared at each other a long while, Stan allowing his words to actually sink in as it seemed Kyle thought on them. Stan felt a nervous, hot lump growing in his throat, so he swallowed anxiously and looked away, rubbing the back of his head as he commented,

"Well, uh, you wanna go, like, take out a movie or something tonight? We could crash at my house; Shelly's staying on campus in her suite for the weekend and my parents are visiting my aunt and uncle in California. They'll be gone for like two weeks, so you and me could totally cut some school together and chill."

He felt a tickling warmth in his stomach, a good one, that actually tickled enough that he was beaming stupidly as Kyle's lips slowly curved into his perfect smile. His abnormally straight, white teeth almost dulling the vibrant tangerine of his curls as he replied,

"Yeah. That sounds cool. You know what's cool about having you as a friend?"

Stan flustered a little, "What?"

Kyle and him were walking towards the doorway and into the flooded hallway as he finished,

"I can totally monopolize you without you thinking I'm clingy."

Stan's smile grew; what ecstasy his simple, friendly, quiet life was. He had the most incredible best friend the world had to offer, liberal parents, he was quarterback of the best school football team in Colorado and he could hardly ignore himself when he passed a mirror. Finally, South Park wasn't a complete nightmare. He ruffled the boy's satin hair, telling him,

"You're not clingy, dude. You're…you're like…"

They made it to Kyle's classroom and the boy was staring at Stan expectantly as he searched for the right word. Of course, though, it was girly. Kyle was girly.

"You're just cute."

The bell rang, interrupting anything either boy would have said in response to the comment; Stan turned around, red creeping onto his handsome countenance. He flicked his bang from his face, but it fell back into place as he waved to Kyle and announced, "I'll meet you out by the field later."

"K-kay…" Kyle muttered to himself as Stan ran off to his classroom.

Kyle breathed out slowly, his heart thumping as his eyes glistened with a romantic daze. His blood tingled like poprocks going off in his veins, making his toes curl in his shoes as he turned back into the room and took his seat. The whole while he stared at the chalkboard and took notes, but he didn't pay any attention and didn't even hear the teacher talking. He was in a flighty mood; he had started the morning off so gloomy, but seeing Stan and getting Stan to squeeze out those few and precious compliments made his mind cloud with rainbows and butterflies. Maybe not those things specifically, but he got the same warm and fuzzy feeling from it all. Whenever Stan complimented him, his whole body would react in a way, it would reply to all that Stan was and said and thought; it was kind of the feeling he got when he watched the Grinch's heart begin to grow. Soon enough the period was closing in on its end when over the loudspeaker the principle's voice rang,

"Is Kyle Broflovski in class?"

The balding man turned towards the box above the doorway, answering,

"Yes, he's here."

"Please send him to room one-hundred."

Some of the more immature classmates made ominous sounds to make him nervous, but Kyle was a straight-A student with astonishing extracurricular activities and a strong sense of responsibility; there was no way he was being sent to the Dean's office for anything bad. There was just no way, he was too good of a kid. He was walking down the halls, his mind beginning to bubble with possible scenarios in which the Dean's punishment sentence would be death for an offense he couldn't have been involved with. He finally made it to the notorious door of room one-hundred; the numbers might as well have been written in blood. He turned the knob and entered to see the Dean and three other supervisors. A woman in a purple suit turned to him; she was heavy, had fur around her collar and big curled hair. She smiled pleasantly,

"Mr. Broflovski, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are."

She chuckled, "That's fine, I work for the state. My name is Carol Lucarelli and I've come to meet with you."

Kyle's brow cocked, "Me? Why's that? I've never committed a felony, nothing on my record, I swear!"

She laughed again, "Oh, dear lord, no! You see a teacher of yours requested an outside relationship."

"Sorry?" Kyle ventured.

She took on a bit of a more serious tone, her countenance still cheery, though.

"Your teacher, Bernadette Barnes, acknowledged that a personal relationship with you would be out of bounds and she would be fired if authorities were notified. She sent some letters and reports and I have supervised her every action since I first heard from her. She is convinced that you are a prodigy and she wants to be working alongside you in the future. For that, though, she needs a closer relationship. We came to make sure that it was okay with you."

Kyle looked to all of the suited higher-ups, settled on the woman, Carol Lucarelli and nodded,

"Yes, yes, of course. I'm fine with that."

One of the men stepped forward, he was in a beige suit with a light blue tie and he was very young with a full head of thick, slicked back, blonde hair. He set out his hand and shook Kyle's, announcing,

"Wonderful, Mr. Broflovski. We'll be speaking with your parents about it and we'd like to see what progress is made. If you really turn out to be the prodigy Bernadette has been raving about, you will have quite a life ahead of you, Mr. Broflovski."

Kyle blushed, a grin spreading across his gorgeous face, "W-wow, really? She's really been calling me a prodigy?"

"She's ecstatic about you. She's got some papers for you and your parents or guardian to sign and make sure you're okay with. I'll give you her phone number so you can give her a visit and work out some things. She knows what she's doing, Mr. Broflovski. She's got doctors, neurologists and the works dying to test you and poke around all that intellect. We're really looking forward to working with you."

Kyle nodded again, he imagined he must have looked like a pre-pubescent fangirl being greeted by the Jonas Brothers.

"A-and you too! The same to you, to all of you, thank you so much!"

They all smiled, shook his hand slowly departed from the room. Kyle was escorted back to class by the Dean and soon after the bell rang. Kyle was, needless to say, thrilled with his encounter. As the freckled teen walked out of the classroom, he sighed and thought to himself, what a wonderful little life he had in South Park. Everything used to be so crazy, and occasionally it was. But he was intelligent, he had the best Super Best Friend anyone in the world could ask for, he was eligible for the life style of Thomas Edison 2.0 and couldn't wipe the stupid grin from his face. He was oozing with inspiration, adoration and motivation and his heart swelled with contentment; what was funny, though, was that although he looked forward to seeing Bernadette in a new light, although he looked forward to all the interesting things he would learn about the world and himself in the near future and although he was overwhelmed by pride and recognition he really couldn't help but know deep down that nothing made him happier than the thought of walking the mile to Stan's house, collapsing on his bed and simply being in his presence.

Kyle reached into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone and biting his bottom lip.

Stan was at his locker, watching Wendy and her entourage walk by when he felt the tremor in his pocket and reached in to retrieve the message.

Text Received At: 2:17 P.M.

From: Pimp Daddy K. Shmoove

You won't believe what just fucking happened to me.