Warning: The following chapter contains heavy offensive language, and may not be suitable for sensitive readers. If you're not used to the South Park humor and/or don't like it, then please don't read this fan fiction. If you are not a fan of Yaoi or this particular pairing, then please don't read this Fan Fiction. If you're a perfectionist who insists that the author must get absolutely everything right or it's the end of the world, then PLEASE don't read this fan fiction. XD
***I do not own any of the mentioned characters. All characters belong to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.***

Chapter Five

"It's fucking freezing, dude."

Kyle tiredly cracked one eye open as the familiar voice invaded the dark silence. The tone was muffled, and laced with exhaustion. Kyle understood why Stan sounded so tired. They had been trapped inside the bomb shelter for weeks, and... he honestly couldn't remember the last time he had slept. Between the anxious wait for Cartman's presence, and battling the cold that the Bomb Shelter offered all the time, it was hard to get any rest at all.

It had been so long since Cartman had trapped Kyle and Stan in the bomb shelter. So long, that Kyle was beginning to loose track of how many days it had been. Twenty-one days? Twenty-three? The numbers were just beginning to mix together and fog up in the redhead's mind. The lack of human contact and exercise was definitely having a negative effect on both of them. Kyle longed to be in his warm house again, sitting on his nice sofa and watching TV with his family, like he had done maybe about a month before. He missed the sun shining down on himself whenever he was outside. It had been so long since they had seen the sun. Their skin got paler and paler by each day, loosing more and more of their natural peach-like color.

The weeks were rolling, and the seasons were changing. November was quickly turning into December, and the winter in Colorado only got colder, and colder. With each passing day, the bomb shelter's freeze only got worse and worse. Kyle often found himself rubbing his arms and shivering, his teeth clattering together, and his toes curling closer to his feet. His body had been working extra hard to create warmth, and sometimes, it'd work too hard, and Kyle would ware himself out. It was difficult, living in a situation like this.

"I know." Kyle finally responded to Stan's complaint. His own voice was muffled, as he dug his face deeper into the thin blanket draped over his body. There were no sleeping bags in the bomb shelters. Kyle and Stan had gone through every box... including the ones on the high shelves (that they had found a way to reach, thank God). Going through the boxes wasn't a complete waste... though they only found the two thin blankets to provide warmth, they did find more food to keep them fed. They also found the basic lovable hygiene products, which Kyle was completely overjoyed to find when they did (this consisted of toothpaste, toothbrushes, a couple bars of soap, and THANK GOD, several shampoo and conditioner bottles. Kyle was thankful that Stan's Uncle Jimbo had at least installed a working sink in the bathroom).

Two thin blankets wasn't enough to keep them warm. Stan let Kyle take the thicker one, and even then, the blanket wasn't thick enough to keep him even slightly warm. Nights were the worst for Kyle. He shivered and shook and couldn't get a single ounce of sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He eventually rose at dawn, turned on the light, and continued on with living the boring lifestyle he had been living for weeks. And now... with the month venturing deeper into winter, the cold was beginning to be too much for his body to handle.

"Cartman's never coming back."

Kyle blinked at Stan's sudden remark. Slowly, the redhead turned onto his side, facing the raven-haired teenager. Stan was laying flat on his back, blanket up to his nose, eyes staring up at the darkened ceiling. Kyle could only barely see his friend's silhouette through the darkness.

"We don't know that, Stan..." He spoke softly, trying to reassure the older boy. "Cartman could come back..."

"Kyle, the only thing that kept me thinking that the fatass would come back, is that he may have had something huge planned for us. But it's been... how long has it been, Kyle?! It's been so long, that we've lost count of the days!" Kyle could just barely see Stan throw his arms up into the air. His whispering tone raised to a regular one, further invading the darkened silence that was interrupted minutes ago. Kyle didn't need the light to see Stan's face, to know that the boy was frowning. "Face it, Kyle, he's never coming back." He sighed. "We're stuck here. We're fucked."

"Don't say that, dude." Kyle spoke up, raising his voice into a normal tone, instead of a hushed whisper. "Cartman could just have something really, really big planned, that takes a lot of time..."

Stan chuckled sarcastically. "Right." He mumbled. "I know Cartman likes to impress people, but seriously, he's never taken more than a month to do anything that's important."

Kyle thought for a moment, searching his mind for a response. Something that could reassure Stan. Something that made sense. But nothing came to mind. His friend was right. Cartman was taking too long to come get them again. His true intentions could have possibly been to just leave them there, and... go insane. If that was that sick bastard's plan, then it was working. It was a bit out of character for Cartman... and the plan was a bit strange and childish, but it was working, anyway.

"So let's find a way out of here, Stan..." Kyle's voice returned to the hushed whisper that people normally did when it was night. He pictured Stan raising an eyebrow toward Kyle's response.

"What do you mean?" Stan asked. The sound of blankets shuffling followed after his question as the teen turned onto his side. He sent Kyle a questioning blue-eyed gaze as he waited for a response.

Kyle tried to find Stan's eyes, but it was too dark to see. Instead, he just picked a spot on the shadow of Stan's face, and stuck to looking at that, just picturing he was looking his friend in the eye. "There has got to be a way out of here." He spoke slowly. "Your Uncle Jimbo wouldn't just trap himself in a bomb shelter. He's not that stupid-"

"Don't be so sure, dude." Stan interrupted. "He may not be as stupid as our parents, but he's pretty dumb."

"...Anyway. I'm sure he made a way to get out of this fucking thing. The entrance doesn't have a handle for us to use to open the shelter. It's clear that it was only meant to be opened from the outside." Kyle raised one hand into the cold as he gestured with his hand, even though Stan probably couldn't see. "So if that's the case, then there must be a way out somewhere else in this bomb shelter, that would lead us to freedom. There's gotta be a way, Stan."

Stan took a couple silent moments to think about Kyle's theory before speaking. "That may be true," Stan said. "There should be another way out of here. Maybe one of the walls can push in or something... like the movies, you know? Or maybe there's a trap door somewhere."

"Exactly!" Kyle agreed. A small, excited smile was beginning to tug at his lips. "Okay, so let's try to sleep tonight. And then tomorrow, we'll search around for a way out of the bomb shelter. If we look hard enough, we'll find it."

"Sure!" Stan decided. There was a pause. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to sleep tonight, though... it's really fucking cold."

Kyle slowly nodded, and shifted again, so he was laying on his back. "I know... it's freezing." He sighed. "Too bad your Uncle didn't pack any sleeping-bags or more blankets or something..."

"I wish he had." Stan's voice lowered into a whisper again. The exhaustion in his tone was beginning to creep back. "I'm going to call my Uncle if... after we get out of here. He needs to know that this sort of thing isn't going to work, if he ever needed to actually use a bomb shelter."

"Do you think he found a house with a bomb shelter in Denver?" Kyle asked suddenly, letting his curiosity get the best of him. There was a hum from Stan's direction.

"Maybe. It's obvious he found a place up there, since he hasn't rescued us." There was another pause. "I wonder what our parents think we're doing..."

Kyle stared toward the direction of the ceiling, but all that greeted his eyes was the quiet, unforgiving darkness that loomed over him during the nights. Kyle was constantly thinking about his friends and family. He'd gone over the options they could have assumed for him. Perhaps they thought he ran away... or perhaps they thought he was dead. Or maybe they knew exactly where Kyle was, and for some reason, they were just fine with letting their oldest son sit there.

...Now that was a scary thought.

...But of 'course it couldn't be true. His parents would never do something as cruel as locking their son up in a bomb shelter, and then leaving him there to rot. His parents cared about him. They didn't think like Eric Cartman did. But why did Cartman decide to throw Kyle into the bomb shelter? Sure, he could expect Cartman trying to do that sort of thing to get rid of him, yes... but there had to be some other reason behind it. Kyle must have done something to piss off the plump brunette. But it'd been a while since Cartman had stuck them in the shelter in the first place... Kyle couldn't quite remember any recent pranks or aggressive acts he'd pulled on his enemy.

Kyle softly exhaled through his nose, and tucked his bare face under his blanket. The cold from the room continued to nip and bite at his cold skin, causing him to shake and shiver more than usual (much like his friend Tweek, who never seemed to stop shaking and shivering). It was too cold, and it was more than obvious that the thin blanket wrapped tightly around him wasn't going to make him warm. Even through the tight pants and jacket he wore (still with the pajama top, unfortunately), the cold easily made it's way through the seams and attacked his skin. He was sure his skin was beginning to turn blue, by this point. He longed to have a second blanket to help make himself warmer, but that would require stealing Stan's blanket, and he wasn't about to let his best friend freeze more than he already was.

...However... sharing was always an option...

Kyle blinked a couple times, as he let the idea roll through his head. He pictured himself and Stan, sharing the two blankets they had for warmth. With their bodies just a little too close together, shirts and skin rubbing against each other as they tried to get warm. The heat would rise in both of them, and if they were close together, their body heat would just grow bigger and keep them both warm. While the idea seemed like it would be effective and perhaps keep out a little bit of the cold, it was also...

Incredibly gay.

...But technically, it wouldn't be gay, right? Last time Kyle checked, he was pretty sure he was straight, and Stan was his best friend. All they would be doing is sharing each other's blankets and body heat for warmth. And then, in the morning, they could separate and be fine again. Totally not gay.

...Right?

Kyle let his eyes slide to the left, head tilting slightly as he tried to steal a glance at Stan. The raven-haired teen was still on his back, the bottom half of his face covered by the blanket, while his eyes (Kyle could only guess, since he couldn't really see Stan's face) were looking toward the ceiling. It shouldn't have been awkward for Kyle to ask Stan what he thought about the idea, but... he found himself going speechless every time he tried to open his mouth to even form words.

I shouldn't ask. Kyle interrupted the silent debate going on in his mind, as he let himself look toward the currently invisible ceiling again. Stan would think I was gay if I told him my idea. That's stupid. This is stupid. Fuck the cold... Kyle softly grumbled at himself, holding his arms tighter together as he tried to warm his body again. All his fingers met was the freezing sleeves of his leather jacket. He gave a light shudder. This wasn't going to work out.

"Hey... Kyle?"

Stan's voice suddenly invaded the cold silence again. His tone was a bit muffled, from the blanket that hung over his mouth. Kyle turned his head again and looked to Stan once more. This time, he actually managed to find the teen's blue eyes, which were staring right back at him.

"What's up, Stan?" Kyle asked, keeping his own tone soft. Stan was probably going to ask another ridiculous question about Cartman or something. With all the talking going between them, Kyle was sure he wouldn't get any sleep tonight. ...Not like he ever got any sleep anymore anyway...

"I... was thinking..." There was a pause from Stan (again...). His voice had lightly wavered, as if he was trying to decide whether whispering or talking was better for himself. Finally, he stuck to whispering, and continued. "Uh... you know, it's really cold..." Another pause. "We only have two blankets..." Pause. "I was thinking... erm... wondering if maybe..." Pause. "We could... uh..."

"Share?" Kyle finished for his friend, eyes a little wider than they were before. Well. This was unexpected.

There was a stumble in Stan's words for a moment as he tried to speak, but eventually, he got his sentences straight. "Yeah... how'd you know I was gonna say that?"

"Um..." Kyle looked back toward the ceiling again, raising one of his hands into the cold before letting it slide to his neck, scratching it nervously. "Besides from you being totally obvious, dude... I kind of had the same idea... it's really fucking cold..."

"Oh..." There was, for the millionth time, another pause from Stan. The room was met by silence once again, as Kyle shifted nervously where he lay. He wasn't sure what to say next... or how long it would have been before Stan was going to speak. It seemed to be forever, before his friend's voice finally spoke up again.

"Well... uh... h-here..." There was a faint rustle from Stan's direction. Kyle raised his head and glanced toward the older boy, only just barely seeing Stan's arm raise, along with his blanket, giving access for the redhead. Kyle wanted to stop and think about the idea again first, but he didn't allow himself a chance to have second thoughts. Quickly, he pulled his blanket off of himself and scoot closer to Stan. Stan dropped the opened part of the blanket over Kyle's body while Kyle reached forward and grabbed his own blanket, draping it over the two of them. For several moments, they lay like that, sides rubbing together while both of them awkwardly stared at the ceiling.

"Kyle..."

Stan's voice sounded softly from Kyle's side. Kyle didn't look at Stan, but gave a short "hmm" to let Stan know that he was listening.

"Uh... Nevermind..."

Kyle kept in a sigh and slowly let his eyes slip shut, hoping that maybe now, he'd be able to get some sleep.

The office was at it's usual sound rate... a little quiet, but still chatty, and a little fun. From where he sat, the Chief of Police watched his co-workers walk this way and that as they went about their business. Most everyone wore a blue suit with a gold badge pinned to their chests. Of 'course, most of the cops were men, but even a few women walked by, each stride they took showing purpose as they made their way to wherever they were going. Down upon his desk, the Chief of Police had several different papers scattered all over the surface, each requiring his immediate attention. However, the middle-aged man had been doing paperwork all night, and he knew he needed to give his mind a break. In his right hand, he held a white mug full of hot coffee, which he continued to sip from as he watched the office go about their business. Yep, it was a normal day at the Police Station, like always.

"Sir..."

Except for the fucking kid with his underwear around his pants startling the hell out of him each time he showed up.

Now covered in scalding hot coffee, the police-man loudly yelped, and reached for the white cloth at his feet. He hurriedly patted the cloth against his white (well, brown now...) shirt and spun around, eyes locking on the kid that was perched in his opened window.

"God damn it, Mysterion! Every fucking time!" The man snarled as he tried to rid himself of the hot coffee that was burning his chest. "I swear, you fucking wait until I'm drinking hot coffee to scare the shit out of me."

Mysterion's eyebrows were narrowed in his usual glare as he watched the man try to soak out the hot coffee. While watching the man flip out was absolutely hilarious, now wasn't the time for jokes. Mysterion continued to crouch on the window's edge, and when he was sure the man was listening, stated his apology.

"Forgive me, sir." Mysterion grumbled softly. "But this visit is extremely important."

"Well, what the fuck do you want?" The man snapped, obviously grumpy now.

Mysterion reached into his pocket and pulled out two folded photographs, which he handed to the man when he was ready to receive them. The man slowly opened the photographs and let himself look at them, before glancing back to Mysterion.

"Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why'd you bring me pictures of circus-runnaway faggots?"

Mysterion kept himself from wincing at that term, though he didn't stop himself from letting his expression turn slightly annoyed. The man's irritation slightly faltered, and he mumbled a soft apology.

Mysterion sighed and pointed to the pictures. "Sir, I happen to be very close with the boys in those pictures. Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh had absolutely no intention of joining the circus. They don't find it interesting, and they never have..." (If you don't count the one time they hung out with the quintuplets for a little while...) "If they were to go join the circus, they would have told Eric Cartman and Kenny McCormick, sir. The notes they left for their parents... that wasn't their handwriting. Their disappearance in November wasn't their own choice. I've been waiting for a while, but I've finally come to a conclusion."

The man folded the pictures again, and instead of giving them back to Mysterion, slipped them in his pocket. He looked up to the hooded Avenger again.

"What are you saying, Kid?"

Mysterion frowned. "Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski didn't run away, sir." He said softly. "They were kidnapped."

Hey guys! I am SO sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I got super busy, and didn't really have a lot of time this past week and a half. But I'm back to my regular schedule, and ready to write some more :3. This chapter was really short, I know, but we're finally making progress in the story with the romance and such, so at least there's that! :D I wanted to thank you all SO MUCH for the story follows and the reviews! The reviews and feedback is what keeps me going with these stories. It really means a lot to me, guys, so thank you! I'll try to get the next chapter out soon, please forgive me if it takes another little while (it shouldn't, though). You guys are the best when it comes to patience. :3