AN: Woohoo! Next chap. Quick legal crap: I don't own SP, and I don't McGruff the anti-drug dog either. Nonlegal stuff: First of all, thank you all so much for reviewing and favoriting and everything else (esp reading!); you have no idea how much it makes my day to read your reviews and see that you like the story :) You are all soooooooo awesome!

This would've been out a few days earlier but Hurricane Irene stole my power for several days and I just got it back :-p. Onto the story!

"Oh are you nervous, like your freshman year
Still can't shake this nightmare
Get me out of your hair
The truth, I know ..."

-The Summer Set

"Are you serious dude?" Kyle caught the ball as it bounced off the waxed coating on the gym floor, the smooth skin of his fingertips gripping the rough rubber surface.

"No," The still sweat-slicked bangs flew from Bridon's forehead as he gave a casual shake of his head. "Guess it wasn't really big in my grade," he shrugged.

Kyle's elbows flared out as threw the ball back toward Bridon, short and hard, so that his teammate had to run up in order to keep the ball from getting away. "What were you guys watching then?"

The fatigued brunette paused for a minute, considering his throw as he spoke. "Well, a lot of us were really into Disney stuff for a while, High School Musical, that stuff." He launched the ball long and high over Kyle's head.

The redhead didn't speak; his eyes watched the ball pass overhead. Kyle's wiry frame moved with seemingly implausible energy and speed as he ran backwards to meet the ball, catching it as he made an impressive jump into the air.

He landed with the poise and confidence of a tomcat and then immediately proceeded to double over. If Bridon had been at all concerned over Kyle's sudden change in demeanor his fears were quickly allayed as the ginger's hysterical laughter echoed in the empty gym.

"Are you fucking serious dude?" The basketball was clutched tightly against Kyle's stomach as he chortled. After he had run out of breath the redhead stood and straightened, wiping a stray tear from his eye as he tried to subdue the remaining chuckles that left him. He looked over at the younger teen, whose face has turned a rather dark shade of pink, with a teasing smile. "Did you actually like that shit?"

Bridon's cheeks had settled into a rather flattering shade of dusty pink. "Hell, no," he shook his head in emphasis, "My dad did though." His cheeks darkened a little again as he mumbled it out.

Kyle kindly chose to ignore Bridon's last words; he could sympathize with having a freak for a dad…he could sympathize a lot. "What did you watch then?"

"Red Racer. What?"

At his new friend's confused question Kyle tried to unwrinkle his nose. "Nothing," he said, focusing again on Bridon and shaking his poofed-out ponytail of red curls. "Just someone I know."

Kyle's attention suddenly snapped back to the ball in his hand, itching to be used, but one look back at his teammate showed how unlikely that was. For the first time the skinny Jew realized the Bridon's pink face hadn't just been from embarrassment. The other kid was pink and covered in sweat, his breathing a little short and winded; he may have been the star of freshman basketball, but it was clear that varsity practices were still rather taxing for the underclassman. Had it been anyone else, Clyde for instance…especially Clyde for instance...Kyle would've shown no mercy, pushed the practice until he himself was ready to be done for the day, but he felt a rather touching sympathy for Bridon. There was something about the guy, a vibe, that just made him feel something...he needed to watch out for Bridon, to protect him in a way that was far less gay than it sounded, well, he thought it was far less gay than it sounded anyway.

The slightly older teen rolled the ball to hold it against his hip. He surveyed Bridon and pursed his lip thoughtfully for a second.

"Well, I guess we're done for today. You ready to go?" He posed the question casually, as though he hadn't noticed Bridon's worn out state.

The grateful look on the brunette's sweaty face said it all. "Yeah. Thanks." He jogged up to Kyle as the two headed toward the boys' locker room. "How do you keep your energy like that?" he asked the junior with barely concealed awe.

"Practice." Kyle, a little pink, shrugged off the compliment with a roll of his shoulders. "You'll build it up man; it's just endurance."

"Ya know Kyle, I can think of a better way to use that endurance."

The two teens wrapped up in conversation hadn't even noticed the figure to their left. An annoyed look flashed on Kyle's previously calm features…he didn't have to turn around to know who exactly had spoken those subtly explicit words. There was a confused look on Bridon's face who had a clear view of the stealthy blonde; but still, he was sure Bridon knew who Kenny was, even if he didn't know why he was there. Everyone knew Kenny for some reason or another, famous or infamous…he was sure to be a legend among underclassman by now.

Kyle turned to face his shifty blue-eyed friend tersely, his body language tense with his irritation at Kenny's intrusion. Only a short tuft of shaggy blonde hair was visibly jutting from the raised orange hood of Kenny's parka; he was leaning against a row of lockers, slightly hunched over and arms crossed with one leg straight and the other bent at the knee so that his foot rested against the wall of lockers. Somehow, despite wearing bright orange against the gunmetal grey lockers Kenny managed with blend in easily, though Kyle shouldn't have been surprised…it was a talent Kenny had always seemed to possess and had mastered to a perfected skill. It was a skill that was often put into practice...especially as of late it seemed.

Kenny pushed off the wall with his one foot, strolling toward the two with a tenseness all his own. When he reached the duo he pulled down his hood and crossed his arms again, stance wide and shoulders pulled back; his eyes were slightly narrowed when he looked at Kyle, his expression sour. When his eyes reached the brunette in Kyle's shadow his eyes narrowed further, his expression darkened enough to make the underclassman worried.

"What's up Kenny?" Kyle's greeting was anything but friendly; his words were gritted out through clenched teeth, as though his rude tone was the most polite he was capable of.

"Nothing Kyle, just hanging around," Kenny's words would've been nonchalant had it not been for the etched scowl on his face and the way his arms were crossed against his chest.

An angry retort was forming in Kyle's brain, but he found himself distracted by the noise of a shifting body. A quick glance to the side reminded him of Bridon's presence. The other boy was standing behind Kyle awkwardly, obviously aware and uncomfortable over the tension and intimacy that hung over his and Kenny's heads; he felt his expression soften minutely. For Bridon's sake and his sake only Kyle bit the inside of his cheek and tried to quell the agitated energy that Kenny was bringing to the surface. He turned back to the brunette and spoke as calmly as he could manage.

"Go ahead and hit the lockers dude, I'll wait here," he gave a head jerk in the direction of the locker room.

Bridon looked a little relieved; he quickly nodded and made his exit. Kyle watched as he made his way to the locker room more quickly than he had been on the court. As soon as he was out of sight what little tension had been broken more than doubled.

Kyle waited, muscles still tight and the sports-prompted adrenaline still pumping through him, like an animal debating between fight and flight. Even though he refused to look at Kenny directly he could feel the weight of those blue eyes as they bore holes into his entire frame.

Last night he had been the one ready to kill his friend with the exact same death-laser stare, but once again the tables had turned. The only difference now was that Kyle didn't know why he was receiving any hostility and he was still pissed off with this orange-parka-ed boy. For a moment there was a terse silence and the tension hung so thickly it made the air nearly toxic. Kyle began to wonder who would speak first, but his little ginger head need not have worried; it was, of course, Kenny's unabashed mouth that uttered words first.

"I bet you could use a shower too Kyle," there was a sharp edge to Kenny's voice, "maybe Bridon'll even drop the soap for you."

Kyle's head snapped back to meet Kenny's; if he had been someone else, the ever calculating Cartman maybe or clever Wendy, he might've been aware of the hurt and disappointment that lay hidden under the angry jealousy of Kenny's words, the wounds both of them seemed oblivious to. But he wasn't and he didn't. He might've been, as Kenny had said years ago, "the smartest kid in class" but it was no secret that he was also one of the most volatile. He was far wrapped in the onset of anger-turned-rage to notice such trivial things as other people's feelings or motivations.

"What did you say asshole?" He advanced toward Kenny with one step, one fist clenched by his side while the other tightened helplessly around the basketball pushing into his stomach.

"He is your faggy little boyfriend, isn't he? I gotta hand it to ya Kyle, he's a good catch I guess, kinda girly if you ask me. Didn't think you'd hit 'em young Kyle; what, are they easier to get that way?" The words came out accusingly instead of, what should have been, playful harassment. Kenny's words would have been true to his teasing nature, save for his acidic tone.

He too took a step forward. Always prepared for a knock-down, drag-out fight Kenny's hands fell to his sides and formed into fists.

For once Kyle ended up being the one to initiate close contact; he closed the small space between himself and Kenny, so close that their faces were mere inches from one another and both could feel the hot air of each others' angry breaths.

"What…did…you…say." Kyle's voice came out tight and quiet, as if the fury that was shaking his body had also constricted his vocal chords.

"You didn't tell me."

Whatever Kyle had been expecting Kenny to say, that certainly wasn't it. He pulled his focus back, looking past the red haze of rage to zoom in on Kenny's visage, Kenny's eyes.

It was only a split-second, but he could swear that he saw something there under the anger…no, not anger, hurt. Kenny's expression was contorted enough to look like rage, but swirled within it was the evidence of betrayal and injury, and it was more telling and confusing than anything Kyle could have imagined. He didn't know what to say, his fury now stained with bewilderment.

Kenny was hurt? Kenny was actually hurt by him? Kenny was hurt because he hadn't told him he'd rather fuck Brad Pitt than Angelina Jolie? That's what Kenny was pissed about?

Kenny's words, Kenny's intonations, left no doubt in Kyle's mind to what he was referring to, but that Kenny would be so pissed and hurt because he hadn't come out to his friend made him want to wonder. In the war between confusion and anger, however, anger was easily winning in Kyle's brain. Oh yeah, he had questions all right, but first things first: punch now, ask questions later.

"Um…"

It might have sounded fairly retarded, but it was the only thing Bridon could think of to say in the current situation. He knew Kyle Broflovski was a hothead, he had heard plenty of stories; but he had not, however, expected to leave the locker room only to be greeted by a scene that would swiftly be concluded by either an intense makeout session or a rather brutal brawl.

The upperclassmen that he had left only a few moments ago were very, very…very, close to one another. Kyle had one fist drawn back, ready to land a blow, but his sandy-haired companion also looked ready for attack, head pulled back and teeth bared.

There was something weird about the scene though. Bridon wondered if Kyle was even aware of how his grip on his 'friend's' sweat-shirted chest only served to pull closer…and in a way that did not look aggressive…well…not an angry kind of aggressive anyway.

His little noise of uncertainty may have sounded rather pathetic and stupid when it left his mouth, but it did serve its purpose. Both teenagers stopped scowling at each other and, albeit reluctantly, looked to him instead.

And then came a very uncomfortable moment.

It seemed none of them knew what to do next. Kyle still stood frozen in mid-punch, only with his head now turned; Kenny stood similarly, but now his glare was more intense and directed at him, and here he stood with water dripping from his chicly disheveled hair onto his clean t-shirt, blushing slightly and looking abashedly away from the scene.

Luckily, for him anyway, Kyle soon shook from his stupor and his grip on Kenny; his hand released Kenny's hoodie, leaving a space of crumpled looking fabric in its wake.

Kyle took a step back. He turned again to scowl at Kenny and said, pointedly, "Come on Bridon."

Bridon had to push himself to a near jog to keep up; despite Kyle's shorter legs he was easily outstripping Bridon with his fast stride. A quick glance to the side showed him green eyes narrowed into slits as Kyle glared into the distance and muttered things about "fucking blondes", "fucking bastards", and "hormonal assholes" under his breath. He stayed quiet. It seemed safer that way.

Still, though, Bridon was curious. Then Bridon made the terrible mistake of looking back.

He was concerned about the junior that they had just left, about what his reaction would be. He had turned his head and glanced over his shoulder, eyes sparkling and hair flipping fetchingly, and was graced by an unexpected sight. An unpleasant sight. A downright horrifying sight.

Bridon had expected Kenny to look sad maybe or maybe even to be glaring at Kyle's back the way his redhead friend was glaring into space. Hell, he might have expected Kenny to be pouting provocatively and petulantly. What he did not expect, however, was to be greeted by blue, blue eyes. Staring right back at him. Glaring at him. No, really, really, glaring at him; the kind of shameless glare that said in no uncertain or subtle terms "die, die, die, die you bastard". Kenny himself looked as though he was quite ready, and willing, to murder Bridon with his bare hands.

So the infamous Kenny McCormick of odd information and ill-repute hated him.

Fuuuuuck.

Bridon whipped his head back around. He sighed. This was getting ridiculously over-complicated. He felt bad too. He had met Kyle's closest friends and classmates; Stan, the obvious best friend, usually stopped by practice if football got out early, Cartman, the friend-slash-rival, would come along with Stan, and some oddly sweet kid named Butters somehow ended up at their practices rather often, and he knew Clyde himself from the team. All of them seemed like nice guys, well, except Cartman, but he'd been told early on to just ignore him, to the protest of "Ay! Shuddup Jew-fag!"

Kenny though, Kenny was the mystery.

Kenny was the one who was always there, but Bridon had had yet to meet. He always managed to see blonde hair or folds of the ever-present orange parka out of the corner of his eye. Kenny never bothered them, never came up to introduce himself or announce his presence to Kyle, but he was there at every practice, watching from outside the gym or off in a secluded corner. And then, just like that, he'd disappear. He'd be in the corner of Bridon's eye one moment and out of it the next. He was never there at the end of practice.

The cold, crisp fall air hit his face as they exited the building with a loud thwack against the front doors. He'd always thought Kenny had been rather endearing in his subtleties and silent support, but now...Shit.

Shit. I've really gotta fix this before it gets worse between them.

"Uh, hey, Kyle?" The redhead seemed completely unaware, and kept striding along. He reached out a hand to grab the shorter one's shoulder. "Kyle!"

Finally Kyle slowed and stopped; he turned and looked at Bridon as if he were shocked to find he was not alone, green eyes wide and shaken out of deep thought. Bridon looked down at his shoes. He shifted awkwardly for a second before finding his voice.

"I'm sorry...about Kenny back there. Look, I really like being friends with you and all...but I really don't wanna cause problems between you and your boyfriend."

Once again Bridon got a response that had most certainly not been expecting. He almost went to cover his face in self-defense before he realized that Kyle's fury-fueled look was not directed at him.

"What? He is not my boyfriend! Kenny Mc-fucking-Cormick is. Not. My. Fucking. Boyfriend! Jesus, why the fuck would you say that?"

"Oh! Uh, sorry. I just thought-it's just the way he's always around and, uh, the way you guys act around...each other...and stuff..." Bridon faltered under Kyle's slightly murderous gaze.

"What do you mean 'the way we act around each other'? Bridon, what do you mean?"

Kyle's interrogative tone, and the way his intense gaze was rather close to his face, gave Bridon no way out. There was absolutely no way, no freaking way, Kyle Broflovski of South Park, Colorado, was going to let him leave without a full, and awkward, explanation.

"Well, you know, you guys just...I don't know; you guys just, uh, like click or something. It's just the way you guys interact and are close all the time. I mean, it's just...Kenny...you don't act the same with Kenny, like you do with Cartman...even when you're pissed off."

Bridon looked away from Kyle's eyes; they were stormy and conflicted...they were full of something all consuming, something that he neither could or should have seen. Those eyes were for Kenny McCormick even if Kyle protested otherwise.

Despite the obvious and contradictory evidence literally staring him in the face Kyle wasn't done trying to convince Bridon, and himself, of his aversion to his grade's token trailer trash.

"Listen to me Bridon. Kenny McCormick and I are not involved. Kenny McCormick and I will never, ever, ever, ever, be involved. Never. I would rather fuck Clyde than be involved in any way, shape, or form with Kenny." Kyle's hold on his biceps was turning into a bruising force, he could tell that each of Kyle's slender fingers would be leaving a not-so-elegant impression on his skin by the end of this. And, frankly, it was enough to persuade him to drop the matter rather than confront Kyle on his apparent attraction to his friend.

"Okay Kyle I believe you," he held his hands up high as he was currently allowed, trying to convey his being a non-threat, "Uh, could you let go of me now?"

Kyle looked shaken. "Huh? Oh, sure...sorry." His gaze had turned unfocused, lost in thought. Actually, more than that even, he looked like an odd combination of terrified and slightly aroused. Was there even a word for that? If there was, the conflicted young man in front of him was the prime example of it for sure.

The sound of rubber over pavement rolling to a stop broke the intensity of the situation. At that moment Bridon couldn't have loved Kyle's mom more. He turned and saw her smiling kindly at them from the warmth of the car; she gave a quick double-honk of the horn and motioned them over. Relief washed over Bridon like a tidal wave, thank-fucking-God that this nightmarish, painfully, awkward day was coming to an end.

The next time he got invited to join something that involved upperclassmen he was going to make like McGruff and "just say no".

While the spell of the moment had been ripped to reality with Mrs. Broflovski's appearance, Kyle was still deep in trance. As Bridon adjusted his backpack and made his way to the sliding door of the minivan Kyle stood rooted in place, staring at the ground helplessly.

"Uh, Kyle...? Your mom's here." The upperclassman did finally look up, shaking his head and gracing Bridon with a falsely carefree smile. The redhead walked past Bridon and ruffled the brunette's drying hair in a halfhearted semi-headlock as he made his way to the car, pulling open the door with some force as he hopped in.

"Kyle, don't open the door like that! Hello Bridon, how was your day?" Mrs. Broflovski's eyes, just as intent as her son's, were staring at Bridon as the slight teen climbed into the car. Bridon looked to his friend for help, but the other had already surreptitiously slipped on a pair of earbuds and was playing a pocket-concealed mp3player. At what he knew was the desperate look in his own eyes Kyle smirked rather knowingly. He was leaving Bridon to the mercy of his mom's interrogation, or what she considered "polite conversation", taking the opportunity of his presence there to escape it himself. Son of a bitch. Would this day ever end?

Sheila Broflovski was looking at him, still waiting for a response. Her laser vision seemed to be stuck on 'stun', 'all the better to grill you with, my dear,'; and she apparently wasn't going to start driving until he at least started to answer her.

"Oh, it was okay, I guess." He said as the car began to pull away from the curb.

"Oh that's no answer Bridon; now, tell me all about it."

He mentally sighed. This was going to be a long car trip. He took a look to his left; Kyle's eyes were closed as he nodded his head to the beat of some song. Friend or not, next time he saw Kenny McCormick he was going to leave Kyle to him on a freaking silver platter.

Kenny stopped when he heard Kyle's voice ringing out, carried to his ears by the cold mountain air. He frowned; he had hoped to catch Kyle alone and unawares outside of the school, but it seemed that that little fucktard Bridon was still with him.

Though at the moment that might've been for the best...He wasn't sure at the moment if he wanted to punch Kyle in the face or push him against a wall and have his way with him. Both were extremely tempting in their own right.

"...will never, ever, ever, ever, be involved. Never. I would rather fuck Clyde than be involved in any way, shape, or form with Kenny."

Kyle would rather fuck Clyde than him? Now Kyle was going beyond mean, now he was just being an asshole.

More words wrapped around the brick corner to meet his ears. "Okay Kyle I believe you. Uh, could you let go of me now?"

Fucking little asshole was touching his Kyle. His Kyle. Feral little growls were forming in the back of his throat as jealousy caught his stomach in a strangle-hold. He wanted to punch something...and someone...very badly right now.

He kept his fists clenched as he listened to the last wafts of the conversation, Mrs. Broflovski's voice finally joined the choir before they were all drowned out and carried away by the sound of a running car. He was glad they were finally gone. He had come close to running out and carrying Kyle off himself, carrying him away from what he was sure was the evil influence of Bridon Gueermo. Close to carrying off what was rightfully his goddammit...if only Kyle would goddamn listen to him!

He kicked the red wall as hard as he could. His toes would be killing him later, but it was worth it...until he heard the sound of someone scoffing behind him.

"God Kenny, you're never going to get him to like you like that!"

Kenny whipped around to see Wendy Testaburger watching him with a frown a few feet away, hand on hips. It would figure that, even in the secluded side of the school where smokers went to hide, of all days and moments she would come to this hidden spot by the side exit door. When the fuck had she gotten there anyway?

The blonde pulled down his hood and glared at her through his shaggy hair; it was a glare that would put fear into the heart of any woman, man, child, anyone in the world...

…anyone in the world other than Wendy Tesaburger at least.

Brown eyes went from frowning to glaring right back at him and for a split-second, though Stan is still a pussy-whipped bitch, he could understand why his tall, football-playing friend would be scared of this short, slight, raven-haired fireball.

Intimidation having failed, it looked like Kenny was going to have to talk to Wendy in order to make her go away. "Whadda you want Wendy?"

Wendy rolled her eyes at his ill-mannered words. Instead of responding she walked up to him and started poking Kenny in the chest rather hard and pointedly and then spoke.

"Kyle's never going to like you if you act like that Kenny. You need to just talk to him. If you keep fighting with him and groping him you're never going to get anywhere! God, why are boys so stupid about these things?"

Kenny glared hard. Had it been Kyle or Stan in this situation they might have felt embarrassed by Wendy's powers of keen observation, but, luckily for Kenny, he was not either one of them and embarrassing Kenny McCormick could not be done. At least not by astute observations into his feelings and motivations. Fuck no, he wouldn't be embarrassed or cowed by Wendy Testaburger.

Kenny batted her finger away. He crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes back at her, feigning nonchalance and inner calm like a pro. "The fuck are you talking about? Certain time of the month Wends?"

Few dared speak to Wendy like Kenny did. Usually he wasn't this bad, but he knew pissing her off was probably the quickest route to her disappearance, and he would take that opportunity gladly. Besides that, her mannerisms were reminding him of someone he didn't want to think about right now; every time she talked her face was becoming superimposed with fiery green eyes and tight red curls and it pissed him off even more that she was here and not him.

Wendy's face was contorted, like a bull who had just seen a bright red flag. She seemed to be biting her tongue though; apparently she had already guess Kenny's ruse and was refusing to give in to such tactics.

Damn, I underestimated this bitch. Jesus, no fucking wonder Stan never wins an argument.

"...seven, eight, nine, ten." Wendy whispered it so quietly to herself that Kenny almost didn't hear her; he smirked to himself, at least he was getting under her skin anyway.

Wendy's chest swelled out as she heaved a deep breath. Having retracted her claws and quelled her violent urges she looked up at Kenny rather solemnly and pointed up at his face as she spoke.

"Look Kenny, you want Kyle and I think Kyle wants you too. You can be a real dick Kenny, but I also know you're a nice guy, somewhere deep down there. But if you keep acting like this, Kyle's never going to want to be with you, ever. You're both being complete jackasses about this whole thing, but I like Kyle and I like you and you've both spent the last few months making each other completely miserable! Kyle is not going to respond to being sexually harassed and you know it. Suck it up and tell him how much you like him before you drive him away forever Kenny. You'll regret it if you don't."

"Wow Wendy, you know what?" Kenny's voice was soft and high with shock, "That might be the most fucking fag-tastic thing I have ever heard anyone ever say. Ever. Alright, so maybe I wanna fuck Kyle. That's it Wendy, don't get your faggy little girl feelings mixed up with that," the haughty blonde jeered.

Scarlet once again colored Wendy's complexion. Her fists were clenched at her sides. "Dammit Kenny! Stop being such an idiot! You can deny it all you want, but that won't make it go away. And if you don't do something soon you're gonna lose him to someone else!"

Kenny snorted. Tired and irritated with Wendy and the conversation he pulled his hood back up and drew it tightly together. With his hands in his pockets he turned to leave, looking back as he did so to casually call out, "Wends, I don't give a shit about that feelings bullcrap. Kyle can date whoever the fuck he wants to," he ignored the coiling in his gut, "I want one thing and one thing only," knowing that she could hear every word despite the muffling effect of his hood.

As Kenny walked away he felt superior; he had shut her up and thank fucking God. If I had to hear her whine for one more fucking second...and then Kenny's thoughts were interrupted.

Interrupted by a shrill, feminine, familiar voice calling to him from some distance.

"If you only want Kyle for sex Kenny, then how come, for the first time since I got them, you didn't stare at my breasts once the entire time we were talking?"

Kenny paused for the briefest of seconds before continuing on, now even more eager to put distance between himself and Wendy.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She was right. The goddamn, pushy, know-it-all, pain in the ass was right. He hadn't stared at her tits the entire time they were talking. He could tell himself it was because it was Stan's girlfriend, or because she was being fucking annoying-as-shit, or because he was still pissed off at Kyle...but he knew, as well as she did, that none of those things had ever stopped him before.

The shitty truth of the matter was that Wendy had hit the nail on the head, or the head he wanted to nail...or something. He didn't want Kyle to date anyone else. He didn't want Kyle just for sex and his the pain in his gut wasn't just because of sexual frustration. He wanted his friend in a more needy way than sexual release and a one-night stand. He wanted his friend, wanted to devour and consume him in his entirety. And that was a very new feeling to him. And a not all together non-terrifying one.

He wanted to get home...and quick. There was a cold shower and a handful of cigarettes and his mom's vodka with his name on it.

In spite of her mass irritation at the retreating orange-clad figure in front of her Wendy's eyes were soft with disquieted concern. She could only hope that one of them would wise up before they grew to hate each other. God, boys were such idiots.

"Wendy! Where were you? I went to catch you, but Butters said you'd already left. Why're you out here? Wendy...are you okay?"

Wendy turned and met Stan's chocolate brown eyes, filled with concern of their own, concern over her. She smiled sincerely at him, "Yeah, I'm fine. The student council got out a little early, so I thought I'd meet you at your practice. I thought I saw Bebe go out the side door, but I guess I was wrong." She brushed off his worries with a shrug; if Kenny wanted to talk to Stan then he'd do it himself...it'd serve the stubborn jackass right to suffer a little longer.

Stan turned in the direction Kenny had left and seemed to catch the last glimpse of bright orange against the greenery and dimming sky of a Colorado fall.

"Uh-huh," he raised an eyebrow and shook his head, "Sure you weren't getting involved? You, know, like you said you wouldn't? Like you refused to do?"

Wendy blushed and crossed her arms, raising her head indignantly in vain at having been caught. Stan just chuckled slightly and softly at his girlfriend's embarrassment, years of friendship with both Kyle and Wendy had taught him to enjoy the rare moment in which either's sense of righteousness could be called into question. He was merciful though, at least with Wendy, and let it go at that.

"You must be cold," he gestured to her thin sweater, "here, take my jacket."

Stan slipped his heavy varsity football coat off his shoulders and wrapped it around his girlfriend, her petite body swallowed up by the excess material, exposing himself to the cold in his t-shirt. Wendy felt warm, and not just from the body heat provided by Stan's jacket; she was lucky and she knew it.

"Come on, I'll walk you home." Stan pulled her to his side and they started to walk, away from the school and into their own little happy world.

Wendy was damn lucky. Her boyfriend was sweet and wonderful and not an idiot, okay, well sometimes he was an idiot, but not usually. She stopped him and gave him a quick kiss on her tip-toes. "I love you Stan."

"I love you too Wendy," Stan said, slightly taken aback by the uncharacteristic public display of affection.

Wendy smiled and placed her feet fully on the ground, now pulling him along behind her. "I love you Stan, but your friends are idiots...and I'm going to make sure they get together even if I have to make them myself." She muttered it under her breath as her boyfriend trotted behind her, his wrist now in her not-so-sweet iron grip.

"What'd you say Wendy?" Stan questioned curiously.

"Nothing," Wendy replied with innocent sweetness before muttering, "...at least nothing yet."

"What?"

"Nothing, Stan, nothing...boys."

AN: Oh shame on you boys...just admit your feelings already and fuck like everyone wants you to! Sorry, more action coming soon...super sudden changes in movies, stories, etc., are just a big ole pet peeve of mine so I'm trying to make it kinda more realistic anyway (as realistic as this story will get anyway). But soon! Soon more will happen, like the stuff I know you're waiting for ;) See ya soon! Please review!