A/N: Woo, last chapter for this fic! But...not really, cause I actually thought of basically the whole seducing Kyle thing and got ideas, so there will be a, much longer, sequel to this story. I just kinda wanted to end this story here in part cause it tends to follow the fathers more and the sequel will focus much more on K2 stuff, but will hopefully still be funny. And yeah, I was planning on getting this out sooner, but you know, usual reasons: school, work, life...especially end of year school crap...got in the way. So I finished writing my last essay and then wrote this, instead of studying for my final :-p This was more fun.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy, I hope you review, I hope you read the sequel (chap 1 should be up definetely by the end of the week), and I hope this doesn't suck cause I'm writing it on 2.5hrs of sleep and it's the end of the day for me.

I don't own these characters, or South Park, or anything.

EDIT: Ack! Sorry, I just realized that in my half-awake state while posting this before I forgot to thank everyone for the reviews they gave me! They're seriously appreciated and I 3 all you guys who read my story and sent them my way. You guys are extremely awesome for reviewing as it helps me out and lets me know how good/bad I'm doing :) Thanks again!


It had been two weeks. Two weeks of a blushing Kyle, a blanching Kyle, a muttering Kyle, a pissed off Kyle, and now an avoiding Kyle and Stan still had no idea what the hell was going on.

Oh sure, he had seen something suspicious going on. It was definitely something between Kyle and Kenny, even the perpetually oblivious Stan could tell that something was amiss between his two best friends, but he just couldn't put his finger on what it was. Of course, had it been any other person they probably would have noticed the rampant sexual advances that Kenny was throwing the way of his redheaded friend, but this was Stan and, much to the chagrin of his friends and girlfriend, Stan did not notice such things.

Then again Kenny McCormick was also known for throwing sexual advances at a lot of people. Those people just tended to also have boobs.

But Stan, remaining blissfully in the dark about Kenny's intentions, had gone from being concerned about his super best friend's odd behavior, to rolling his eyes, and now to bitching and whining until he finally got Kyle to hang out with them again. It had taken almost a week, but Stan had finally convinced his friend to leave the apparent safety of his own room and venture over to Stan's house. Even though this feat had only been accomplished after Stan had sworn on "his life, Jesus, Moses, and the sanctity of their friendship" that it would be just him and Stan hanging out that particular day Stan still felt pretty damn pumped at the apparent victory.

Although when Kyle actually reached his house twenty minutes later he was beginning to regret indulging his best friend's sudden social awkwardness.

When Stan opened the door Kyle looked past Stan's smile and glanced around what he could see of the house from his position outside, eyes wide and a little suspicious. A smile turned into a frown when Stan realized he was being completely ignored by his guest.

"Jesus dude, I'm not fucking Cartman. I didn't lay out booby traps or something," he said with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

That got Kyle's attention. His eyes were now focused on Stan, frowning right back at him.

"Shut up, asshole," was all that he muttered as he stepped gingerly over the threshold of Stan's doorway and tried to act calm.

There was a few moments of silence between the two as they climbed the stairs to Stan's room, falling into the comfortable routine of trying to destroy one another in completely gory and utterly competitive video games. Just when their previous irritation had been forgotten, however, Stan decided it was time to revisit the unspoken subject and he did with all of the tact and poise that he usually possessed.

"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you lately?"

Kyle scowled at the screen of the paused game, looking at the frozen zombie on the screen like it was a proxy of his questioning and irritating friend. Kyle had realized long ago that the only downside to having a friend who knew you so well was that you had a friend who knew you so well. There was no white lie that could be told, no respect for personal boundaries physical or otherwise, no unearned apologies, and none of the social niceties that would have called for Stan to leave that arena of discussion alone. But, since Stan was being a dick, it meant he could be a dick right back.

"Nothing, Jesus," Kyle said with a roll of his eyes, "I'm not Wendy, Stan. I don't wanna talk about 'my feelings' with you."

"You could've fooled me, you've been acting enough like a fucking pussy lately," came the combative reply.

Stan watched as the red began to creep up in Kyle's neck and face, the physical effects of his hair-trigger temper showing clear as day.

"Me! You're the one who's been bitching and moaning for me to hang out all week," Kyle's reply came out just under yelling level, but riling Kyle to this level wasn't too hard so Stan wasn't overly concerned about his friend's actual anger.

"Fine, whatever. Look, just stop being such a weirdo and hang out with us again."

Kyle seemed to deflate a little at the sincerity in Stan's voice. He could hear the words hidden in Stan's sentence, the ones that remained unsaid about how much Stan had missed his super best friend; it was one of the benefits the reminded him why they were so close. He looked at Stan with calmer eyes and gave him a smile that bordered on a smirk.

"Fine," he paused, "Asshole," his own subliminal apology and pardoning of Stan.

They just smiled their little super best friends' smile at one another, any argument forgiven and forgotten. And with that they moved onto more important matters, like the strange noise that was emanating from Stan's bottomless pit of a stomach.

"Urg, need food," Stan griped as he held his hands over his gut, "coming with?"

Kyle was shaking his head as he followed Stan out of his room.

"Dude, weren't you eating when you called me?"

"Yeah, but that was so long ago," Stan said with a whine.

"It was less than two hours ago," was Kyle's playfully sardonic reply. "Seriously dude, how can you eat so fucking much? You're gonna end up being like the fatass."

"Aye! Don't call me fat," Stan said in his best 'Cartman' voice. "Besides, it's not my fault I'm not a freaking anorexic twig like you. I have actual muscles to feed."

"Fuck you," Kyle said as he gave Stan a little shove.

Both young men had dissolved into laughter and light roughhousing in the short time they made it down the stairs. By the time they had reached the kitchen they were shoving each other out of the way as both tried to get through the doorway first. They fell into a relaxed silence as they raided the Marsh's cabinets and fridge in search of foodstuffs, everything normal and comfortable for the first time in a few weeks. It was in this state that Randy Marsh found them as he wandered in the kitchen, holding a coffee mug out in front of him and looking rather focused.

"Oh Stan, there you are," Randy stated as his eyes alighted on the body partially hidden by an open cabinet door. "Oh, hello Kyle," Randy greeted upon noticing the lanky teen scouring his fridge.

"Hi Mr. Marsh," was Kyle's polite chirp of a reply as he extracted himself from the bowels of the Marsh's fridge and stood upright.

"Hey Dad," Stan drawled lazily as he poked his head out from behind the cabinet door. "You need something?"

Randy suddenly seemed a little less comfortable in the kitchen and he shifted his weight a little, both boys looked between each other, a little more alert as Stan closed the cabinet in order to properly look at his father.

And then Randy gave a furtive little sideways glance at the redheaded bemused teen in his kitchen before answering his son.

And Kyle suddenly felt a familiar feeling of terror as the bottom of his stomach seemed to give way.

Then Randy strode closed some of the distance between him and his son and let his free hand rest heavily on Stan's shoulder.

"Son, I need to talk to you about something."

And then Kyle felt all the blood drain from his face.

And then Kyle let out a noise between a scream and a yelp.

And then Kyle made a beeline for Stan's front door, practically running out the door into the crisp evening air.

Which left two very confused Marshs standing in the kitchen, both looking in the direction that the panic-stricken Jew had taken off in.

"O…kay," was all that Randy said before he turned back to his son.

Stan's attention snapped away from the spot Kyle had last been and let the brows furrowed in epic confusion to relax. He was going to have to go over that whole "What the fuck is wrong with you?" thing with Kyle again. He was pretty sure he had heard something along the lines of "No, not again!" as his best friend practically flew out the door.

"Stan," and Stan looked back at his father.

"Yeah Dad?"

"Now Stan, this is very serious." Randy looked into his son's eyes to convey the importance of the conversation and gripped Stan's shoulder a little. "Have you seen my car keys? Your mother hid them from me after I had a little to drink last night and lost my pants." He rolled his eyes to emphasize how much he thought his wife was blowing this out of proportion.

Stan just pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Goddammit Dad."


Sweet, now onto the seqeul with much more attempted Kyle molesting...much, much more. Sorry, lack of sleep makes me lame. Hope you review, hope you enjoyed!