Authors Note: WOAH DUDE I GOT REVIEWS! HOLY COW PIES! -calms down-

Special thanks to: Sparkus, Crow T R0bot, Call Me Blue Streak,Amelia, Total Misanthrope, and Lilchicky004.Your reviews made me feel all warm and fuzzy. I know this story will be filled with some cheezy shiznit...but I like cheese. And fluff. Fluffy cheese. O.O Aaaanywho...onto the chapitre! -goes French on all y'alls asses-

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own anything...the characters are creations of the amazing Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

When the bell rang it felt as though he had been released from prison, and in a sense that's exactly what it was. Algebra was a prison that confined you with numbers and formulas and equations instead of metal bars and guards with nightsticks. At least Algebra didn't force you to marry another big, hairy man. When the bell rang, Stan gathered his books and bolted out of the door; never to return. Well, not until Monday, anyways.

He had let his mind wander again, and instead of thinking about graphing linear equations, he focused on Wendy; on her smile, her eyes, her everything. Stan knew he wasn't in the best position to think about girls during class; his steadily falling grades would remind him of that, and then would remind his father, who, in turn, would remind Stan again. He didn't know what was wrong; it had been years since he and Wendy had been together, and even then it was just a cute childhood crush. Since then he and Wendy had dated others (Wendy a noticeably lot more) but they all ended in the same way...someone cried. Often times it was Stan, and it would be Wendy's ex-beau shedding the tears for the long-lost relationship.

With all this aside, the last couple of weeks (or had it been months?) had sent poor Stan on a trip of confusion and heartache. He had wondered if Wendy ever thought about him, but he would soon decide that she'd probably forgotten all about him. Perhaps it was for the best if she had; maybe she'd forget his little vomiting issue when he was younger. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was completely over that. Stan shook his head quickly, as if shaking his thoughts from his head.

He went to his locker to retrieve books he would need for after lunch, then made his way up to the cafeteria. He took a seat beside Kyle, glancing around nervously. "Dude, Stan, are you okay?" Kyle inquired, a look of genuine concern on his face.

"No, Kyle, he's not okay. He needs you to kiss his peepee to make him feel all better."

"God Cartman, I honestly worry about what goes on in that fat head of yours," Stan sighed.

"Oh dude," Kenny remarked, appearing at Cartman's side, his lunch a heck of a lot smaller than his, "I'd pay to see that."

"Well, Kenny, go to their house at night and you won't even have to pay. Who knows, slut-boy, maybe you can get in on that peepee-kissin' action."

"Aw Cartman, gross!" Kyle shrieked. Kenny let out a giggle of pure entertainment. He took a bite of his sad excuse for a sandwich and glanced over at Stan, who's attention was focused intently on something more interesting than the crap with Cartman and Kyle. Kenny followed his gaze and his eyes landed on Wendy, sitting with Bebe and the other girls, talking about something...probably boys or when they're going to paint each other's nails, or whatever worthless crap girls never shut up about. Kenny glanced at Stan once more, who's gaze had slowly started to drop to the table. He almost seemed ashamed or nervous. Kenny shook his head and returned to his sandwich and the playful banter between Cartman and Kyle.

Just one more class and he was home-free for the weekend. He was going to meet up with Kyle at his locker after this, and they were going to hang out in Stan's basement until Kenny and Cartman would show up. Then the rest of the night was unscheduled and they'd do whatever their teenage fancies desired. But Stan didn't want to rush through this particular class. No, not while he got to look at her.

Stan was in English, his favorite class. This wasn't neccesarily because of the subject itself, but because of who was in his class and the teacher. Mr. Decker was the kind of teacher who would let you get away with anything. You could swear all you wanted to around him, or even at him, because he'd certainly swear in front of you. Oh well, even in this class, Stan's grades had started to stumble. But that was almost to be expected, when little Miss Wendy sat almost in front of him. Actually, she sat in front of Kyle, who was indeed directly to Stan's right. Stan had his left cheek propped up in his hand, a bored expression masking the fact that he was enjoying watching Wendy. She was so cute when her nose crinkled in concentration like that.

They were reading The Odyssey, something the students probably weren't very indulged in. Wendy, however, was, which worked to Stan's advantage because she wouldn't notice his eyes bearing into her. He couldn't help but wonder who she was with these days. He did see her with Craig a lot. Stan snorted. That buttpipe couldn't possibly care about her. Then again, maybe she wasn't concerned about being cared for? She had earned herself a reputation of being slightly promiscuous, but what teenager wasn't these days? Kenny was a perfect example of it taken to a high level, and Stan wasn't so innocent himself. If he could just show her how he felt, how she melted his heart, then maybe she'd consider a meaningful relationship.

"Stan?"

The familiar voice broke him from his fantasies and longings, leaving his head cloudy and murky. He looked up to meet Kyle's eyes. "Yeah?" he whispered. Mr. Decker threw him a glance as he continued to read from the book. As easy a teacher as he was, he hated to have his oh-so-wonderful story time interrupted. No one cared, and would often hold their own discussions anyway.

The corner's of Kyle's mouth twitched into a proud smile. He had finally managed to stir Stan from his daydreaming. "You're coming to my locker after yours, right?"

"Uh...yeah," Stan said with a 'duh' tone of voice. They had gone over this already, and the Broflovski lad usually had a keen memory. "Then we're going to my house until the fatass and manwhore can get there."

"Alright," Kyle sighed, nodding slowly. "But are you sure you wanna do this tonight? You seem really out of it, dude."

Stan's blue eyes flickered over Wendy's figure for a brief second before returning to Kyle. "I'm fine, dude. Just tired. I'm okay." It was the age-old, cliche response used to divert the attention from the fact you weren't feeling your one hundred per cent. Stan was, however, dead tired, but that wasn't what was causing him to be uneasy; it was the fallen angel in front of his friend. "Don't worry, I'll be better once we get the hell out of here."

"Guys," Mr. Decker spoke sternly, "Save the bedroom chat for later and can it."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Pecker," Stan challenged with a grin. Snickers arose from the class as Mr. Decker tried to quiet them. Much to Stan's pleasure, Wendy was giggling.

"Nice one, Stan," she praised, looking over her shoulder at him.

All his poor vocal chords could muster was a feeble thank you. His stomach churned and moaned silently, perhaps he wasn't quite over his "upset-stomach issue." Sheets of crimson made homage on his cheeks the second she returned her attention on her literature book. Smooth, Marsh, he cursed silently.

Finally the bell rang. "Until Monday," Decker called out over the sound of the students clamboring to their feet, closing his book with a dramatic slam. "See ya in a few," Kyle said as he hurried out the door.

"Bye, Stan!" Wendy said happily. Stan offered her a smile and a wave, but it slowly vanished as he watched her rush towards Craig, throwing her arms around his neck in an embrace. Stan's sturdy shoulders rose and fell witha heavy sigh as he ambled over to his locker.

"That Wendy Testaburger sure is a fine piece of ass."

Stan jumped, the top of his head crashing into the top of his locker. He had been searching for a particular folder in the trash shoved into the bottom of his locker. He became aware of the familiar chuckle coing from the intruder as he stood to his full height, rubbing his battered head.

"Fuck off, Kenny."

Kenny smirked. "I saw you checkin' her out at lunch today, dude. She's pretty damn hot."

Oh great, Stan thought, that familiar pit growing in his stomach, Kenny knows. This'll end well. "I wasn't checking her out. I was spacing out and happened to be staring in her direction."

"Naw man, you were checking her out. There's no shame in admitting it. You wanna do her."

"No, Kenny, I don't. Now just shut up."

"You wanna do her all night long."

"Shut up."

Kenny started to laugh that high-pitched giggle of his. "I don't blame you, what with those tits of her's and all. Arroooo!" He howled, adding a few pelvic thrusts and twists for effect. Hisblue eyes sparkled with delight as he laughed, almost as if he was crazy. He was just bathing in Stan's torture. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, his eyes clamping shut.

"Please, Kenny," he begged quietly. "Stop it. I don't wanna 'do' her, and I was not checking her out. I have to go meet Kyle at his locker. What time do you plan on coming over?"

Kenny shrugged simply. He had dropped the subject, for now at least. "Around five thirty or so. I've, uh, got some business to attend to." His trademark smirk played across his features as he mentally planned what was about to unfold before him. "I'll catch ya later, Marsh." And with a wave of his hand, Kenny sauntered off, humming a song to himself. Stan closed his locker and threw his bookbag over his shoulder. It hit his back like a dead weight. He had a general idea what Kenny's 'business' was. Some girl. He pitied whatever tramp had fallen into the clutches of the Horny Kenny. Oh well, it was partly her fault for being so sleazy in the first place.

Stan found Kyle leaning with his back against his locker, head down as if he was deep in thought. By the time he had reached him, the halls had emptied out almost completely. "Hey Kyle," he greeted with a cheery smile.

"Where have you been?" Kyle demanded with a playful tone. He tried to hide his smile but couldn't keep his face straight.

"Oh you know," Stan responded, "Doing drugs, getting laid. I'm a busy man." They shared laughter for a few moments before Kyle suggested that they 'better get their asses moving.' So they did, amblimg peacefully on down the sidewalk in the direction of Stan's house. They talked the whole way, either complaining about what tests they had that day or laughing over some crazy antic someone pulled off. At some point in the conversation they broke into a snowball fight, packing the melting crystals together and throwing them as hard as they could at each other. Their laughs echoed off the sides of the buildings, making it sound even louder than it really was. Finally they reached the Marsh residence, shaking the flakes of snow from their coats. They continued to laugh as they made their way down to the basement, throwing their coats and bookbags on the floor without a second thought.

Stan's basement had been turned into a sort of hang out when he turned thirteen; A raggedy, green couch propped itself against a wall, two bean bag chairs resided on either side of it, and a coffee table stood in front of them. On the other side of the table was a tv equipped witha video game system. The basement wasn't much, but it was just enough for the small group of boys to be able to entertain themselves. Kyle plopped down on the couch, which eeringly accented the green of his eyes. Stan turned on the tv and the game system, grabbed two controllers, and sat next to Kyle.

After an hour or so of fruity music and flashy images on the screen, Cartman's unmistakable stomp reverburated against the walls and off the bottom of the basement steps. "Alright assholes, what are we doing? We better be doing something fun."

"We don't know yet Cartman," responded Stan, "We're waiting for Kenny to get here too so we can all figure something out."

"Well I wanna go to a movie," Cartman chirped annoyingly. He didn't care what the others wanted to do. He never has, so why start now?

"That's probably what we'll end up doing," Stan sighed. It's all they ever ended up doing. When they had started to 'grow up,' the magic of imaginitive games seemed to wear off, and they hadn't gotten into almost any wacky adventures.

"Just don't eat all the candy and popcorn, fat boy," Kyle said slyly.

"Ay!"

Five-thirty came and went, and Kenny still hadn't graced the boys with his presence. They began to grow irritated; if he didn't show up soon either they couldn't do anything, or he'd miss out, and they wanted it to be a group gathering. Well, Cartman would rather be spending the night alone in his room than with these hippies, but he wasn't going to complain. Much.

When it came to be 6:15, they decided to throw on their coats and shoes and go look for Kenny. Besides, maybe they'll figure out something to do while they were outside, instead of cooping themselves inside. Stan opened the door, only to have a very bruised and bloodied Kenny stumble and fall into his grasp.

Author's Note: So here it is..Chapter One. I had no idea where I was going with this until an idea popped into my head. Dun dun duuun...