After four of the longest class periods ever experienced in the history of the world, the bell finally rang for lunch, serving up equal helpings of pre-frozen enchiladas, peanut butter and jelly bean sandwitches and dissapointment. Kyle eagerly raced to the cafeteria, although he never ate there and brought his own lunch, so he usually didn't have to, hoping to intercept Stan as he was buying his lunch. If he could target him early then whatever obnoxious and terrible agent of fate had been keeping the two apart for the entire day thus far would be completely foiled, or so Kyle hoped. As it happened, Stan had decided to go off campus for lunch that day, which he literally never ever did due to the fact that his allowance ended up being instantly turned into video games, graphic novels or more music for his rapidly expanding collection the very moment his parents gave him the money.

Frustrated and a little out of breath, Kyle raced about the school's minute campus asking student after student if they knew where Stan was. Not surprisingly, no one did. About fifteen minutes into lunch, Wendy suggested that Kyle try calling Stan's cellphone. Brilliant, Kyle, Kyle thought to himself. I can't believe I didn't even think to call him. I guess I am kind of scatter-brained today.

Kyle took his phone out from his pocket, an embarrassingly old blue flip phone with a scuffed up screen and lots of graffiti from various friends scrawled in thin black Sharpie. "One New Text Messege," the phone cheerily informed him. Kyle frowned at the phone. Why hadn't it vibrated to let him know that he'd gotten a text? I really need a new phone, Kyle thought to himself.

The messege was from Stan. Kyle's heart skipped a beat. Shit, he thought. What if he was like, asking me to meet him, or something, and I totally blew it? Kyle threw the phone onto the sidewalk in frustration; it skidded across the concrete and bounced into a storm drain. Kyle winced as the battery cover popped off and the battery disappeared, the phone landing in a half-melted puddle of snow slush and sputtering lightly. Kyle walked over the snow where the phone had landed, knelt, and picked it up. Well, half of it anyway. He laughed bitterly.

"Well, on the bright side, mom will really have to get me a new phone now," Kyle grumbled, trying to cheer himself up fruitlessly. He looked up, realizing that he'd wandered off of the school part of the tiny school campus and into one of South Park's three primarily retail streets, which were really all pretty much the same street all split up and given different street signs.

Just then, a shop doorbell tinkled, announcing that the shop that Kyle was closest to, a ladies clothing boutique, had just finished serving another customer. Two figures emerged from the doorway, one grinning almost sadistically beneath the fur lined hood of an orange pimp coat, the other blushing deeply and clutching desperately at the hem of her pale blue sweater dress. Kyle bit back a laugh as Kenny and the girl turned to face him. Even with the cascading curls of a shimmering new blond wig hiding most of his blushing face, Kyle would recognize Butters Stotch anywhere. Kyle, who was mostly conceiled by the boutique's sandwitch board sign, watched the couple's antics with a wide grin, the fruitless search for a particular dark haired boy for the moment forgotten. And then, Butters saw him.

Freezing dead in his tracks, Kenny's face close to his, Butters turned the deepest shade of red that Kyle had ever seen, even when he looked in the mirror.

"Oh, uh," Butters stuttered, straining in vain to escape Kenny's tight hold on his slender hips. He wriggled shyly in the taller boy's grasp for a few moments, and then, as it became obvious that escape from the complete and utter mortification of his situation was impossible, gave up, hiding his blushing face behind the satiny curls of his wig.

Kenny grinned conspiratorily and kissed Butters right on the lips, flashing a quick 'told you so' look at his red-haired friend who stood watching, slightly envious. Butters looked frantic for a moment, then, defeated, let Kenny kiss him. Kyle bit back another laugh as Butters jumped, startled, seeming to have suddenly remembered that Kyle was watching them.

Butters hid half in Kenny's arms and half behind the orange coated blond's back. "K-kenny, uh, c-c-can we go now?" he stuttered, curls tumbling haphazardly in his flushed face, one hand clutching nervously at his dress hem. "And, uh," he lowered his voice to an almost inaudible whisper, "c-can I have my pants back yet? I feel all exposed in this little dress here."

Kenny laughed roguishly. "No way, Buttery. Your legs are way too cute to cover back up so soon." Butters sighed, embarrassed and defeated, and glanced pleadingly at Kyle.

The red-head grinned, ignoring him. He wouldn't spoil Kenny's fun. Besides, it looked like Butters was actually enjoying himself too, if Kyle was any judge. "Well, I guess I did say I'd need to see it to believe it, Kenny." With a sudden impact like a ton of bricks, Kyle remembered that he had been looking for something- someone. "Oy," he said, his forehead colliding with his palm. He looked plaintively at the blond pair. "Have you guys seen Stan yet today?"

Kenny winked mischievously at him. "Oh. Yeah, we ran into him."

"Really?" Kyle asked, a little too ear gently, flushing pink at the suggestive expression Kenny was wearing. "Er… where? I have to, um, well, he, he left something at my house."

"Like his pants?" Kenny teased, his eyes dancing above an impish mouth. Kyle glared angrily at his accident-prone friend with a hostility that suggested that he wanted to add to the ever-expanding list of 'Ways Kenny McKormick Has Met His Untimely Almost-End'. "Oh, come on, Kylie," he said, rolling his eyes. Girls name number two, Kyle noted, frowning. "Everyone knows that you're totally hot for Stan." NOT how I would have put it, Kyle thought, blushing, which caused Butters to laugh nervously and say, "Oh goody. I'm not the only one embarrassed now." Kyle's dangerous hazel eyes flashed towards their greener side as he glared at Butters, who was giggling into Kenny's chest.

"Well you are," Kenny said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Anyway, he's probably still in there," he said, gesturing towards a dress shop just across the street.

Kyle looked at him skeptically. "Ha ha." "No, seriously," Kenny said, "we went in there first. Right Buttery?" Butters nodded. "Dude, I was just as surprised as you to see Stan in there window shopping for a prom dress, but whatever. I always knew you guys were fags."

Butters frowned up at the taller blond. "You know I don't like when you say that, Kenny."

"Oh yeah," Kenny kissed Butters gently and apologetically. "I forgot that bothers you."

Kyle frowned in direction of the dress shop, desperate to look away from the soft understanding that Kenny and Butters had. It bothered him to be around couples for too long. "Uh, hey, Butters?" he asked. "Was Stan really in the dress shop? Butters turned and nodded once. "Okay, thanks," Kyle said, adjusting the olive drap strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. "Well, see you guys later. Have fun."

Kenny grinned at Kyle and turned back to Butters, focusing his gaze on his striking blue eyes. "We will," he said, blowing gently on Butters neck, causing him to jump, startled. Poor Butters, Kyle thought, glancing back at the blond couple as he crossed the street. Still… Butters was enjoying himself, if Kyle was any judge. He sighed. Well, no way to get what you want without asking, he thought, and, taking a deep breath, he walked into the shop, a little bell tinkling to alert the manager of a new customer. They didn't seem to really care though, as no one greeted him.

Kyle looked around, finding himself completely surrounded by frills and folds, satin and silk. Flowing skirts and skirts so short that it was criminal in most countries. Kyle drew a quick breath. A farmilliar red pom-pom and black haired head appeared between a red mini skirted strapless and a sparkling, pale cerulian ball gown. Stan jumped, startled.

"Um, hey Stan."

The pair shifted uncomfortably on their feet. "Fancy seeing you here," Stan said nervously, "in a dress shop."

"Uh, yeah." Kyle's feet had never been so interesting, as had floor tiles.

"You didn't get my text, did you?"

Kyle bit his lip. "My phone had an accident right before I could," he admitted, showing the two shattered halves of the old flip phone to his friend. Stan winced, but Kyle could tell he was amused. They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and then Stan's phone rang.

Stan recoiled. "It's Wendy," he mouthed. "She's been calling me all day practically nonstop." Kyle grinned. That could be a very good sign, if her phone calls to Stan were anything like her's with Kyle. She wasn't always particularly subtle or nice about her matchmaking, but she was definitely successful. He couldn't help but feel encouraged.

"Yeah," Stan said meekly. "Yeah, hi Wendy. Yeah, I'm actually talking with him right now." He paused, blushing. Stan's free hand was unraveling the sleeve of his worn grey hoodie nervously. "Yeah, I ran into him at the dress store by the school." A look of complete terror fell onto his face and he half shouted into the phone, "No. No! No way! Stay where you are or, uh, I'll hire trained killers! Wendy Ophelia Testaburger, if you dare-" he stopped, looking crestfallen and completely terrified. Stan looked at Kyle and squeaked out the words, "She's. Coming. Here. Right. Now."

Kyle burst out laughing, collapsing on the tile floor beneath the chemise of a lemon chiffon evening gown, howling in complete hysterics. A few of the employees looked over, concerned and slightly annoyed. A scowling Stan assured them that his friend was fine, just completely crazy and really mean. He stalked around the display and jerked Kyle off the floor, hissing into his ear, "This isn't really that funny."

Kyle restrained further laughter and pursed his lips, trying not to smile at the expression on Stan's frowning face. Stan could be so absurdly serious sometimes. "Yeah, I know," he said, biting his lip to hold back another burst of laughter as Stan folded his arms across his chest like an angry seven year old girl. "Just…" he trailed off. "Okay, actually, Stan, it is that funny. You should have seen your face!"

Stan glared at his laughing red-headed best friend. This was so… not good. I mean, what was Wendy thinking? We could have dealt it out on our own. I mean, she seemed pretty sure he was into me too, but… seriously. I can ask him myself! "What?" he asked, pouting like a little kid.

Kyle laughed. "It was just so adorable!" His face fell, freezing in a state of slight horror. Oh shit. Did I really say that? Fuck. Kyle shut his eyes tightly, grimacing. Things like this tended to slip out, but… bad timing. Really.

Just then, the bell on the door tinkled, and the thin, self-assured and thoroughly stubborn Wendy Testaburger, head of South Park High's debate team and self-declared activist and crusader for the wellbeing of the poor, the environment, civil rights, healthcare, third world countries and her classmates' and friends' love lives, strode into the dress shop, her long black hair swishing majestically over her slender shoulders in the small but fashionable wind the girl seemed to carry with her wherever she went. She glanced at the two slightly paniced looking friends, examining their faces carefully and assessing the situation deliberately. She smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. If you asked, she say that debate was her passion, but what Wendy really loved the most was setting up her friends. And truthfully, nobody minded, because they generally benefited from Wendy's actions. Wendy nibbled on the tip of a pen she always kept with her and glanced at the two boys, first Stan, the Kyle. "Lover's quarrel?" she asked finally, grinning roguishly.

Both Kyle and Stan turned brilliant red, but said nothing, although Kyle grumbled something about getting to it. Whatever itwas. "Well," Wendy continued, walking a little closer, still chewing absently on the tip of her pencap. "I won't intterupt. Continue. If indeed, you were 'just getting to it', Kylena." Kyle looked like he was trying to drill a hole through the floor tiles with his eyes. "Go on. Just pretend I'm not here." she winked at Stan, who flinched. "Or… I'll do it for you."

Kyle looked paniced. He didn't doubt that she would. But still… the words just wouldn't come. 'I like you a lot, I think you know that, in fact, Wendy probably already told you, I'm pretty sure you like me too, will you go to the Sadie Hawkin's dance with me on Friday and then date me and all that good stuff please?' I mean honesty, Kyle thought, exasperated. It's not THAT hard. I mean, it shouldn't be. And yet… it was.

Wendy mock-pouted. "I'm disappointed in you boys," she said, taking the pen out of her mouth and tapping it against a dress hanger. She turned on her heels, spinning around to face Kyle directly, black hair swooping around her shoulders and settling gently. "Okay," she said, placing a thin-fingered hand on each of Kyle's shoulders and crouching slightly, leaning over the blushing red-head's shoulder and speaking directly into Kyle's ear, "repeat after me," she said, "'Stan, you're my best friend in the whole world."

Kyle's shoulders slumped. "Stan, you're my best friend in the whole world," he repeated. Wendy smiled.

"Good," she said, beaming. "Now, say this: 'and whatever happens between us, nothing can change that.'"

"And whatever- no way, dude, that's so sappy!"

Stan looked confused and slightly impatient. Wendy shrugged, leaning back. "Okay then, Kylena, you figure out how to say it without it sounding sappy. Although honestly, a little bit of that adorable blush of your's could do wonders," her eyes sparkled mischievously, adding softly, "Stan thinks it's really cute when you blush."

As anyone could have predicted, blush is exactaley what Kyle did. Why did anyone tell Wendy anything? She remembered it all. And used it. Sure, it might help eventually… but still… Kyle frowned, struggling to return his skin colour to a more normal shade. At this point though, it seemed like bright red was his natural skin colour. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right uncomfortably, tucked a stray curl behind his ear and bit his lip. "Uh, Stan?" he said, finally, blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I can't seem to articulate what I want to eloquently enough, so in the most unpretentious way possible, I would like to catechize you thusly: would you like to, er, go to the Sadie Hawkin's dance with me on Friday?" Kyle's hair had, at this point, been paled by comparison to the colour of his face. I want to die. I want to crawl into a hole and die.

Stan smiled. Even if it did mean that he didn't understand half of what he was saying, he'd always thought Kyle's habit of using ridiculously large words when he was angry or embarrassed was adorable. He blushed. "Assuming you just asked me to the dance," Kyle nodded, crimson, "then yes."

Kyle's heart soared. Wendy beamed. "See," she said, readjusting the beret she was wearing- she'd switched from the lilac one she'd worn in elementary school to a black one she'd gotten from Christophe at some point back in seventh grade when she'd learned that it was more of a rebel thing to wear a black beret, "that wasn't too hard, was it?"

Kyle grinned. "Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, hey, hey, wait," Stan said, a slightly Wendy-like twinkle in his eyes, "I haven't stated my, uh, requirements, yet." Both Kyle and Wendy looked confused, although Wendy seemed excited for some reason. "I'm not stupid, Kyle," Stan continued, "I know what a Sadie Hawkins' dance is. It's where the girl asks the guy, right?"

Kyle nodded, completely and utterly perplexed. Wendy giggled happily and whispered something to herself that sounded suspiciously like 'he totally took the idea, oh this is so great!', which scared Kyle more than Stan's weird behavior, asking out his best friend in a dress shop or missing the beginning of Madame St. Clair's class, which he was dangerously close to doing, ever could.

"Well," Stan said, glancing at Wendy and smiling sheepishly, "I talked it over with Wendy, and we decided that, logically, the guy who asked in this kind of situation would have to play the girl's part. Because, you know, he asked."

Kyle folded his arms over his chest, considering the situation. And then, it hit him. Wendy's devilish grin, Wendy's idea, Sadie Hawkins, Stan's requirements… "Oh no, no, Stan, no way," he said, laughing nervously, "no way in hell." Wendy looked seriously close to losing it completely.

"What?" Stan asked innocently. "I think you'd look cute in a dress."

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Author's Drabble:

Hey guys! Whew. Finally finished this goddamn thing. And only like… a month late for Valentine's day. Oh well. Such is life. All I have to say is this: THANK GOD FOR FREAKING WENDY. She's my hero. Seriously. I could never have done this without Wendy. It would have just failed. Because well, Stan and Kyle are too stupid and sane and modest to actually accomplish anything without crazy Wendy's help. It would have taken them waaaaaaay too long without her. Seriously. I appreciate Wendy so much.

On another note, I watched the episdoe Breast Cancer Show Ever in the middle of writing this. I think that's now one of my new favorite episodes. Wendy. Is. Such. A. Badass.

Uh… Oh yeah. The gratuitous amounts of Bunny are all for Marly, hope you liked them. I mean, if you like Bunny, then you got something from that too. But I mostly put in it for Marly. Because she's been bugging me to write some Bunny for like, ever. And. I did.

Anyway, this chapter went to like, ten pages. All by itself. I haven't combined the story's chapters yet, but it's gonna be fun to find out how many pages it covers. :D

Uh… yeah. That's about it. I wrote a bunch of this in Science class. And Japanese class. Yay me.

Signing out and finally being done with this story (yay!),

Your friend RadianceRose (aka ainekatt).

(wow, that was so official.)