Changing Plans

Stan was not a happy camper. At least, that was what Wendy had declared, and numerous times at that, which was starting to drive the poor boy somewhat crazy.

He loved the girl, really - though not in that way, not since elementary school - but he just didn't understand the way her brain worked sometimes. How was his sexual orientation supposed to magically transform him into some stylish shopping god? He was still Stan, dammit. He played football and video games, he didn't get manicures (the thought alone made him visibly cringe) and help girls go clothes shopping.

And yet, there he was in the mall... and no, he was not a happy camper.

"Aw, come on, Stan!"

"Wendy, no," he answered, trying not to give into his habit of pinching the bridge of his nose out of annoyance.

He'd been dragged around for the better part of the afternoon from store to store, pestered for his input on clothes and shoes and jewelry and God only knows what else because he certainly couldn't keep track of it all. All the response he could even manage to give was 'that's nice' or 'meh' anyway, so he couldn't see how he was supposed to be particularly useful. The only thing he could manage was to carry Wendy's purchases, and if it would have made her stop asking him questions that were practically Greek to him, he would have carried three times as much. But the one thing he would not have done was what she was asking of him now.

It was one thing to drag a man out shopping; it was a completely different ballpark to actually try to get him to try on clothes - and not just any clothes, but prissy clothes. Especially if that man was Stan Marsh, the guy who lived in jeans and t-shirts and sports jackets and was perfectly satisfied with his limited wardrobe, thank you very much.

Where was Kyle when he needed him? He wouldn't have been trying to get Stan into clothes he knew he didn't like. Kyle liked him just the way he was.

"We're not leaving until you at least try something on."

Something? Stan was all right with something, just as long as that something wasn't anything that even remotely reminded him of the embarrassment of that metro fad when they were kids. Kyle still made fun of him for that (and he had every right to), but was Stan going to willingly give him reinforcement for that? Oh hell no.

"Fine, Wendy, but then we're leaving, okay? The Broncos game starts in an hour, I don't wanna miss it."

Wendy smiled, so he took that for a yes - but instead of taking any of the clothes that she was holding out to him, he grabbed a nondescript t-shirt off of the returns rack and ran off into the fitting area. "Stan! Ugh..."

Snickering to himself for his quick thinking, Stan ducked into the closest changing stall without even thinking to check if anyone was in there first. An instant later, he wasn't sure if that was an amazingly good or horribly bad thing.

Well, at least that answered the question of where Kyle was.

"Stan, what the hell are you doing here?!" He looked absolutely panic-stricken, and Stan couldn't blame him. He was, after all, surrounded by the types of clothing he'd just managed to avoid trying on. What the fuck?

"I could ask you the same thing." Stan poked at one of the button-down shirts on the hook. He glanced at Kyle with an incredulous look, as if to ask Is this yours?, to which he only grimaced and nodded. "Dude, I thought you said you were spending the day with your mom?"

"I am," he groaned, shoving his face into one hand.

"...Oh. Shit, that sucks. What the hell is up with girls and prissy clothes?" Kyle gave him a weird look, so he explained simply, "Wendy's outside."

"Ah." Kyle plucked the t-shirt from Stan's hands and smirked. "Prissy, huh?"

"She tried, man! But I beat her at her own game. So after I try that on, I"m free!" Oh yeah, he really was just that awesome.

Kyle laughed and shook his head, probably not surprised. "Good for you. I'll be lucky if my mom lets me go before the mall closes."

"What? But... the game, dude! The game!" They always watched the Broncos games together. Always.

"You think she cares?"

That was a good point. This was Sheila Broflovski they were speaking of, and when that woman decided something, trying to deter her from her course that was like trying to change the weather; it simply wasn't done.

"Fucking hell..." Suddenly, getting out of there wasn't his top priority anymore. What the hell was the point when he wouldn't even be able to enjoy the game without Kyle there to cheer, jeer, and mock with?

He looked from the t-shirt still in Kyle's hands, to the stall door, to the dated security camera perched in a high corner; Kyle followed his gaze and smirked. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Oh yeah. Time for a change of plans.

Stan grabbed the shirt, tossed it over the camera, and locked the door behind him, before turning back to Kyle with a devious grin. "Well, if you're gonna be stuck here 'til closing anyway..."

Needless to say, they both missed the game entirely. But they didn't really mind.