Stan was leaning against his desk the next morning, his arms crossed across his front, his chin tucked against his chest. He wasn't used to getting up so early, not anymore. Not since his dad had brought him the car. It was pretty obscene really, having to beat the sun out of bed, he wasn't quite sure how he'd managed it for so long. Still, he was beginning to understand why Kyle looked so damn cranky all the time. He was probably just tired. Exhausted even. It would also explain the perpetual sand-in-vagina demeanour, as well as the whole falling asleep in really peculiar places thing he had going on. Stan had only done this for one day, and he was already falling asleep on his feet. If he did it for a week, he'd probably start passing out during lunch period too. That'd irritate Wendy. But then, everything seemed to irritate Wendy, so Stan didn't really care.

At least if he was asleep, he'd be unconscious during her irritation.

Kyle threw open the door, storming into the homeroom in an angry flurry of clingy snowflakes and bad mood. Stan started, opening his eyes and blinking to himself. Kyle just frowned at him, brushing the few remaining snowflakes off his coat, purposely trying to spread as many as he could across Craig's desk. Simply for the sake of being awkward. If he was cold and damp, other people had to be cold and damp too.

"Fuck me Stan, you're here early."

Smiling, Stan continued blinking himself awake, tilting his head back and exposing his throat. "Well, so are you."

"Only because the bus gets here early. I'm not here early by choice."

"I could drive you, you know. It'd take no time at all to pick you up. You could have another half-hour in bed."

Kyle didn't look at him. He was too busy using his fingertips to melt the snowflakes on Craig's desk. "Kenny's already offered."

Stan swallowed. Sleep had made his mouth dry. It was pretty unpleasant really. "But you didn't accept."

"Of course not. I'd rather get here early then end up dead."

"Well, my car's heaters work-"

"Oh, big whoop Stanley. I think I might faint with excitement!"

"It also has functioning seat belts, airbags, and a passenger side door that actually opens. You don't have to mount me in order to get in or out." Stan smiled, spreading his arms, hands open, palms up, like some kind of vicar about to start a service. "Any mounting would be purely voluntary."

Kyle just rolled his eyes, dropping his bag on his desk, sitting down heavily in his chair. He wanted to snap out something sarcastic, bite out an insult, but he really couldn't think of anything. He wasn't awake yet. His brain was still dull and muffled with sleep. He needed five minutes to wake up. He always needed five more minutes to wake up. He hadn't expected anyone else to be here, not for a good while yet. Not even Butters came in this early, and Butters was a real weirdo. He had no idea what Stan was playing at. He had no idea what game this was.

Blinking, Kyle frowned, shutting his eyes against the sickly florescent lights, burying his face against his sleeve. "Don't you already drive in with Wendy anyway?"

Stan frowned, sitting down next to him. Shamelessly taking Kenny's chair. Kyle opened one eye to glare at him. He was sitting side saddle, his elbow resting precariously on the plastic chair back, one knee cocked over the other. It was such a posing, pussy way to sit, Kyle wanted to slap him. No self-respecting football player should ever sit like such a dandy. "No, she drives in with Bebe or Red or someone. I don't know."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Just oh Stan. Just oh."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Kyle crossed his arms on his desk, burying his face into the rough, felted sleeves of his duffle coat. They were damp, and cold, but he just didn't care. Maybe he could just ignore Stan and the stupid way he was sat. Maybe if he ignored him, Stan would shut up. Maybe he could just go to sleep anyway. Maybe maybe. "Oh."

"So, does 'oh' mean you want to drive in with me or not?"

Kyle exhaled slightly. He just wanted Stan to shut up. "Oh means maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe. I'll see."

"Alright, well just let me know."

"Will do."

"Good."

For a blissful minute, Stan was quiet. There was nothing to disturb Kyle but the random rustlings of the rest of the class arriving, their shrill, squawking greetings. The retarded, shrieking noises he'd spent a lifetime blocking out. It was just background music now. Irritating, irritating background music. Kyle smiled against his coat, enjoying the soft lull of exhaustion, the stuffy, pitch-black nest of arms and wool. The faint, far off promise of sleep.

Then Stan cleared his throat. "Do you want to work on the paper tonight? For real, I mean. We didn't get anything done yesterday."

Kyle bit his lip and sat back up, involuntarily squinting against the acrid light. Stan wasn't going to shut up. He wasn't going to let him nap. It wasn't going to happen. Kyle might as well just stop trying. "I don't know why you're so concerned about this paper. It's piss easy. It should only take a couple of hours."

"Well, let's just get it done then."

Kyle frowned. "You don't have to hang around if you don't want to Stan. You don't need to wait for me, or be with me, or attach yourself to me like some kind of enamoured stalker. I already told you, I can do it myself. You don't need to be there all the time. You don't need to be here at all."

"No, it's not that. I want to be here. It's just, if we get it done quickly, we can go get a coffee or something. We could go play Time Crisis."

"They still have Time Crisis?"

"Of course. Everyone loves Time Crisis. I'll even take the pink gun, if you want."

Kyle just stared at him, crossing his arms across his chest. Stan hated the pink gun. He'd always hated the pink gun. It'd always been pretty damn weird, the immense loathing he'd had for that stupid gun. "You really want to be friends again that badly, huh?"

Stan just blinked at him. He was still sitting side saddle. Still propping his elbow against the back of the chair. Still sitting in that stupid-ass way. "Yeah. Dude, what I said last night, I meant it. I… I miss you. I really do want-"

He never found out what Stan wanted, because Kenny chose that moment to beam Kyle on the back of the head with a half-empty water bottle. Kyle yelped and gripped the back of his head, Kenny just cleared his throat.

"Hey fluffy. Butters needs some of your old floppy disks. The broken ones. Hey Marsh, you're in my seat, fuck off."

"Ouch, you fucking dick! What the fuck did you do that for?!" Kyle was cradling his head, glaring up at a brazen Kenny. Stan was hovering half-way out of his seat, reaching towards Kyle in uncertain, awkward concern.

"I actually didn't mean to. I was aiming for Stan."

Stan frowned. "How the fuck did you miss? Your aim must be fucking awful, Kenny." Kyle bit his lip, wrinkling his nose. Stan cleared his throat. He'd decided to push through the awkwardness and stand up fully. Kyle felt him rest one hand on his shoulder, before pressing the other over the back of his own, over the bump, gingerly holding it there. Gingerly applying pressure. He was incredibly hot, incredibly clammy, which wasn't necessarily what Kyle wanted. He'd have preferred something colder. He'd have preferred some ice, or some snow. But at least Stan was trying. At least Stan was concerned.

"Well I'm sorry Stanley. Maybe the varsity quarterback will be willing to give me some pointers. You know, once he's finished fondling my best friend's hair and everything."

"Just fuck off Kenny."

Kenny didn't oblige. He didn't budge an inch. He remained rooted in place, watching Stan tend to Kyle with a quirked eyebrow, his arms crossed pointedly across his chest.

A/N - I think my postgrad course is trying to kill me, hurnggh.