Benchball

A few weeks later the class had moved hurriedly onto benchball, after an unfortunate accident that left Kenny dead for a week and Tweek freaking out, pointing out that he knew this would happen.

Stan looked around at his team. They had actually got a good team: Clyde and Token, both sporty like himself, Craig who, though he was not quite as sporty as his friends, was quite fast and tall. Kenny was a fierce player, lightning fast and extremely good at throwing the ball for scores. Tweek was extremely paranoid, as always, but good at catching – it seemed that his constant fear of the ball hitting him in the face, plus the caffeine in his system, made his reflexes quick enough to catch the ball at any speed, and he always clamped the ball to his chest to stop anyone from using it against him again. Add to that the fact that no-one would touch him, for fear of Craig's wrath, and Tweek was brilliant. Kyle was more tactics than much else; if he yelled advice everyone would listen to him. Really, in Stan's mind, they had the best team they could.

As soon as the whistle was blown, the team shot into action. Stan leapt and gained possession of the ball – pass to Token, over to Clyde, to Craig, then intercepted by Wendy as it was thrown to Tweek. For a moment the teams switched possession – everyone fumbling and crowded, some players using shoves and hits to gain the ball.

"Spread out! Stop clumping up!" Kyle called, and almost instantly Stan and his team retreated, before intercepting the ball and scoring. Clyde and Token high-fived, and the game continued.

It was a heated game; both teams were skilled and determined to win. Stan was enjoying the game – because he did sports regularly his chest had become stronger, and his asthma had gotten better. He was doing what he loved, playing sports with a great team of friends, having fun and just to make it better, they were winning by three points. There was the roar of over 30 people all shouting at once, plus the squeak of trainers and benches, and bouncing balls – it was chaos. Tweek was still afraid someone was going to attack him, though Craig hovered behind him most of the time, and he yelled out if someone came even near to knocking him over. Though Stan ignored these cries, when he heard a totally different one his attention was instantly gained.

Cartman and Kyle had both leapt for the ball, and Cartman had kicked out at the red-head. Kyle fell over, and was closely followed by Cartman, who landed almost completely on top of him. Everyone stopped play and crowded around as Cartman picked himself off of Kyle, who was now curled in a ball, his face scrunched up in pain.

"Ah you fucking fatass. You crushed my fucking ribs!" he gasped.

"Shut up Jew. Stop being a pussy." Cartman grumbled.

Stan crouched down beside his best friend, and gently touched his ribs to try and determine what damage had been done. He snatched his hands away when Kyle tried to muffle a whimper of pain.

"Ha, fag, touching up your best friend." Cartman sneered, but he was silenced when Stan punched him in the stomach, heaving Kyle to his feet.

"He needs to go to the nurses office. He's seriously bruised, if he hasn't broken any ribs." Stan said to the teacher, and walked away, supporting his red-headed friend, who was still clutching his sides in pain.

"Kyle's lucky – if it'd been me I'd have been instantly crushed, knowing my luck." Kenny laughed.

The last thing the pair heard was a loud shriek from Tweek, and Craig scolding the unfortunate blonde (whose statement was probably true).

When Kyle and Stan arrived at the nurse's Kyle was gasping and out of breath, because it obviously hurt his to breath.

"Oh dear! Kyle, dear, you look in pain." The nurse stated, and when she turned her back Stan gave her a 'no shit Sherlock' look.

"Cartman fell on top of him. I think he's bruised his ribs, badly." Stan told her, easing Kyle onto a chair.

"He crushed me! Never mind bruises, I think I've cracked a few of them!" Kyle groaned. The nurse bustled over.

"You're gonna have to raise your arms darling. I need to get your top off to see your chest." She said gently. Kyle slowly raised his arms, wincing in pain. Stan went slightly pink, and turned away slightly. But from the corner of his eye he could see Kyle's top being prised from his thin frame. With his arms up, Stan could just see his ribs. He turned around, shocked, when he saw Kyle's ribcage already going a purplish red colour.

"Jesus Kyle..." he whispered. The red-haired Jew took one look at his chest and turned away, slightly green.

The nurse muttered something and said she'd have to bandage his ribcage. They didn't catch why; they were too busy staring at each other. Kyle's wide green eyes were filled with pain, Stan's blue ones shocked. Stan had unconsciously stepped closer and was now brushing painful tears off Kyle's face. His eyes found Kyle's lips – slightly parted in a pitiful expression, and he stared.

He was fighting with whatever was stirring in his chest. He had been harbouring a secret crush on his best friend for well over a year. Seeing him in this pain all he wanted to do was comfort him by holding him close. Unbeknown to Stan, Kyle felt the same way; he just wanted to be held when sad.

Both of them had drifted closer, their faces suddenly closer than before. They looked knowingly into each other's eyes and both of them – leaf green and sky blue – showed the need they had for each other. They both leaned forward, finally closing the gap between their lips and pressing together needily. Stan's hand threaded into Kyle's curly red hair, Kyle raising a hand to grip Stan's shoulder.

They broke apart bashfully when they heard the nurse approaching with her bandages. They smiled at each other over her shoulder, silently showing the ecstatic happiness now running through them both now they knew the love they felt was mutual.

A/N: Words: 1,048

Well... umm... yeah, I was playing benchball and my best friend got sat on (please note these events did NOT play out in real life, and she wasn't severely injured :P Continuing...) and I suddenly thought up this scenario. With added fluff.

I intend to have them finish each type of sport with a Kenny death – just imagine all the ways Kenny could die while playing sports. Ah the possibilities *evil grin*

Kenny: Why does EVERYONE have an obsession with killing me?

You're immortal Kenny. It makes you all the more angst-y, but also more determined to show a strong front and smile. It gives you depth.

Kenny: ... huh?

It's a tradition! You. Must. Die. Okay? Good.

If anyone reviews I would be so happy. Thanks to d r a m a t i s . e c h o for reviewing the last chapter, I'm a big fan of your stories!