Misery Business

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

October 19

(Stan's POV)

It's my 18th birthday today. It doesn't seem as significant as it should... Maybe I will feel more like an adult as the day goes by. Though, on second thought, that seems dumb; you couldn't possibly feel like an adult while at high school.

My morning was only slightly different from my normal routine: get up, shower, get dressed, eat (special birthday pancakes today, courtesy of Mom), and leave for school. Who's 18th birthday is on a Thursday, anyway? No one wants to party on a Thursday. Even Friday would have been better.

I climb into the cab of my truck and get ready to start the engine when I get a text. I decide to open it, just to see who might be wishing me a happy birthday.

Kyle: Don't leave yet!

My eyebrow shoots up in curiosity. Did he need a ride? Usually he tells me the night before...

still here... whats up?

I receive my answer in the form of Kyle himself speeding around the corner and screeching to a halt in front of my house. Jesus Christ, why is he in such a hurry?

"Dude, what the hell!" I call to him as I get out of my truck. He doesn't get out, but he rolls down the passenger window to talk to me.

"Get in, I'm taking you today!"

I don't think twice about it, and I climb in.

"Happy birthday, by the way," he says after we've taken off. I smirk, knowing that the day has already picked up.

"Thanks. I don't feel any older, though. It kinda sucks."

"Did you get any presents yet?" I sigh at this, remembering my dull morning.

"No, not yet." I grin, and turn to him. "But you can give me yours!"

"Not yet," he laughs. "It's too good to give you right now."

"Aw, then when do I get it?" I whine, playing hurt. I'm really eager to know what it is now!

We drive a few minutes in silence before he decides to answer me. I can see the school approaching, but Kyle isn't slowing down to turn into the parking lot.

"Happy Birthday, Part 1," he says coyly as we drive right past the school. I begin to panic.

"Dude! We can't just skip school! I have a test today!"

"Relax, Stan. There's such a thing as make-up tests," he tells me, more calmly than I expect. This is Kyle, skipping school! Willingly! I never thought I would see the day. "Besides, there's better things for you do be doing on your 18th birthday than taking a test."

"What else do you have in mind...?" I ask him cautiously. His only answer is a grin.

After sitting in the car for 45 minutes and watching highway signs pass every once and a while, I'm able to conclude that Kyle is taking me to Denver.

"Why Denver?" I ask him. He's been quiet for a while, apart from singing along to the radio every other song.

"Because there's more to do in Denver for a day than in South Park," he tells me.

I catch a glimpse of his smiling face; he seems really excited. I suppose I can grow a pair and get over the whole idea of ditching-school-for-my-birthday and try to appreciate what my best friend is doing for me on my birthday.

"Well tell me what you're planning for us to do!" I ask excitedly. "I want to know what to look forward to!"

"We're almost there, just wait a few more minutes. Are you hungry?" I think about this for a brief second, and decide that birthday pancakes was enough for another few hours.

"Nah, I wanna get to the good stuff. We can eat later."

"Good, because our first stop is right here," he says, and we pull off the road and into a gas station. Kyle gets out, and motions for me to follow him into the Stop 'n' Shop.

The clerk behind the desk eyeballs us when we walk in, and we do the same to him; he's a large, truck-driver-esque looking guy, and he looks like he knows we shouldn't be in his store. But I continue to follow Kyle to the back of the store. He grabs two slushie cups and turns to me.

"First on our list: Birthday Slushies." He hands me the cup. "I'm paying for everything today, but there's a few things that... you'll have to purchase." I whip my head around to look at him, concerned.

"What the hell does that mean?" He rolls his eyes at me.

"That means I'm gonna give you a $10, and you're gonna buy a pack of cigarettes," he tells me matter-of-factly. "It's mandatory, because you can do it legally now."

"Okay, well stop whispering this to me like we're a couple of kids planning on how to buy alcohol," I say as I fill my cup with frothy goodness. I picked cherry flavor.

"Technically, I still am," he says, filling his cup with whatever flavor the blue slushie is. "And I don't want to get busted."

"What other sorts of things like this are on your list for today?" I ask him as we make our way to the cashier.

"Oh, you have to get a Lotto ticket while you're here, too. That's a no brainer."

The cashier is looking at us suspiciously when we reach his counter, and Kyle fishes his wallet out of his pants.

"I'm getting the two drinks," he tells the man, who wordlessly gives Kyle his $3.75 total from the register. Kyle pays him, and he turns to me when we're still standing at his counter. I sigh. Damnit, Kyle...

"I'll have a pack of Camel's, and... whatever scratcher you think is luckiest." The man continues to stare at me.

"I need to see your ID, son," he growls. He sounds like he's been smoking his entire life. I roll my eyes and pull it out of my wallet.

Without another word, he turns to retrieve the cigarette carton from a locked case, and pulls a scratch-off Lotto ticket from the drawer and places them in front of me. The ticket has little cartoon rabbits and flowers on it; probably the girliest one he could have picked.

"That'll be $15.98," he grumbles, and I hand him the cash that Kyle had given me. He hands me the receipt, and we walk quickly out the door.

"Dude, holy shit. That guy was nuts!" I exclaim, chewing on my slushie straw as we climb in the car.

"I swear I thought he was going to hold us hostage or something," Kyle laughs. He quickly snatches the Lotto ticket and cigarettes from my hand before I can even think about putting them away.

"Dude!"

"Not yet, Stan! We have to get everything together first," he explains, and I sigh. I know there's more planned now.

"What's next, then?" I dare ask. I'm trying my hardest to think of everything one can do once they're 18, because that's clearly the theme here.

"Porn."

"But I have plenty of porn," I remind him, but he shrugs.

"Doesn't matter. Now you can legally buy it, instead of relying on Kenny to give you hand-me-downs."

"That was one instance!"

We must be in a bad part of Denver, because it's a pretty short drive from the gas station to the adult shop. I can't keep the blush from creeping onto my face... This can either go smoothly, or really awkwardly...

I hop out of the car once we park, and quickly turn around when I realize I'm alone.

"Kyle, come on!" I yell. He's still sitting in the car.

"I can't go in!" he mouths through the windshield. He doesn't look like this is bothering him. I grumble, and walk up to the driver's side.

"Then how am I supposed to know what to get?" I ask, watching his face light up in a grin.

"Doesn't matter, get whatever you want. Just make sure to get a magazine too, so we can both look at it."

I glare at him, blush clearly present on my cheeks, and turn to go into the shop. I only have my slushie for company, now.

Entering the adult shop is reminiscent of walking into the Shop 'n' Stop; the guy behind the counter eyeballs me from the moment I walk through the door. If that's not the creepiest thing someone could do in a place like this, I don't know what is.

I try to hide from his judgmental gaze by ducking into an aisle of magazines. I had no idea there was so much to choose from! Playboy certainly isn't the only thing out there, I now know, and by far the cleanest. I learn this after flipping through an opened, non-Playboy magazine.

I'm getting antsy... Kyle must know how incredibly awkward it is to pick this stuff out by yourself, I doubt they would have carded him just for walking in. And it's not like I can make a wise decision on what I want, because they all have plastic wrap. Probably to keep perverts from jerking off to them in the store.

...Suddenly, the urge to leave is very strong.

After standing around like a dumbass for a few minutes, staring mindlessly at the massive selection of magazines, I pick one at random and head for the counter. I toss it onto the counter and slurp my slushie obnoxiously as I fish for my wallet.

"You picked a good one," the cashier informs me. I try my hardest not to grimace at the fact that a complete stranger is approving my choice in porn.

"Um... That's nice to know," I say awkwardly, and hand him my driver's license. He quickly glances at it and slides it across the counter.

"I would have believed you were 18," he says, grinning. This time, I grimace. He thanks me for my service as I turn to leave.

I could not walk out that door quick enough.

"What's up with you?" Kyle asks as I get in the car and slam the door. I must still have a horrified look on my face.

"This must be the day of the Creepiest Cashiers, because that guy in there was worse than the first," I tell him as he pulls out of the shopping center. He laughs.

"Dude, they must know it's your birthday or something," he kids. I can only mindlessly chew on my straw and stare straight ahead.

"Of course they do, I've had to show them all my ID."

Much like the first two stops, it's not long before we are at our next destination. My heart sinks a little when I catch the sign above the building.

'Jay's Ink'.

"Kyle!" I screech, choking on the saliva in my mouth. He looks over at me worriedly, and I pound my chest a little until I stop coughing. "You're making me get a tattoo?"

"We've been planning this for years!" he explains, but that doesn't calm my panic.

"But I-I'm not ready!"

"Don't be a pussy, Stan! This should have been the one thing you expected me to make you do today!"

My heart is beating so fast in my chest, I begin to hyperventilate. Kyle notices this, and slaps me upside the head. I freeze and slowly turn to him, a look of confusion and fear on my face.

"Dude, buck up. It can't be that bad. And I'm going to get one on my birthday, too. So you won't be alone."

I sigh heavily. We did discuss this years ago... But I had forgotten. I've always wanted one, but I guess it's just a little overwhelming knowing that I'm not leaving here today without a tattoo. I haven't had time to mentally prepare myself!

"...Alright, I'll do it. Under one condition!" I add quickly, watching his face light up.

"Anything!"

"On your birthday, we're coming to this exact place, and you have to get the exact same tattoo in the exact same place I do, so you know what pain I went through," I demand, and he grins widely and throws his fist in my direction.

"Deal." We bump fists to seal it.

"Well then, I guess... it's tattoo time," I say slowly as we climb out of the car. I can feel my heart thumping in my ears. I notice that I can see my breath as we approach the parlor.

Finally, we are able to walk into a shop and not be greeted by some weirdo. The woman standing behind the counter, albeit covered in tats, is really hot. She smiles widely when we walk in.

"Hey boys, what can I do for you today?"

"It's my friend's birthday, and I'm making him get a tattoo," Kyle tells her before I can even open my mouth. I elbow him for his retardedness. She laughs.

"Well happy birthday, kid. But I'm gonna need some proof."

The simple act of pulling out my wallet today has become so routine, I do it without another thought. I slide my ID across the counter and she picks it up to read carefully.

"Stan, I'm gonna need you to fill out some paperwork before we get started," she says as she hands me my ID, and then hands me a paper on a clipboard. "Just a release form you need to sign, and some contact information in case we need to get ahold of you for any reason."

Kyle follows me to the bench near the door, and we sit down and read the paper. I'm so nervous, I mostly scan through the legal stuff, and quickly scribble my address, phone number and sign the bottom. Kyle pats me on the shoulder and I nearly jump at the touch.

"Congrats, you're one step closer," he teases, and I get up to hand her the clipboard.

"Thanks, hon. Do you know what sort of design you want?" she asks, and I realize I have no idea. Maybe there's a way out of this after all!

"Um, not yet..." I mutter, when Kyle sneaks up behind me.

"Do you have a book of designs?" he asks, and I resist the urge to elbow him again.

"Sure thing," she says, pulling a large binder out from under the counter and handing it to us. "These are mine exclusively, so whatever you pick I can guarantee it will look awesome. I'm Joan, by the way. Just let me know when you're ready."

We find our way back to the bench, and Kyle has already started flipping through the pages.

"I want something small, simple and manly," I tell him as he flips through a series of flowers and birds. He takes note of this by searching the small tabs in the pages to find a section labeled "tribal".

"Manly enough for you?" he teases when he reveals the first designs. Wow, these are actually really cool. I snatch the binder from him to look at them more closely.

"Definitely getting one of these."

He is hovering over my shoulder as I flip each page, annoyingly saying "get that one" to each design.

"Dude, this is a life-changing decision. I'm not going to make my choice haphazardly," I tell him matter-of-factly. He sighs and slumps over in the bench.

"Well hurry up and pick one, because I don't know how long this is going to take and I'm getting hungry," he says.

"You're the one who insisted I get a tat," I remind him, continuing to flip through the pages.

And then, I see it.

"Dude. Kyle. This one is it. I have to get this one!" I exclaim, pointing repeatedly at the design on the page.

"No fucking way, Stan. I'm not going to have a giant-ass dragon face on my body."

"It doesn't have to be big!" I plea, and he rolls his eyes.

"Yes it does! That would look stupid if it was small." He takes the binder from me and flips through more pages. "How about this one?" he points.

The design is obviously meant to be centered somewhere horizontally, because it's presented almost like wings. It's a simple tribal design with no particular image being depicted, but it's what I talked about getting.

"But where would I put it? It looks like it's meant to be a tramp-stamp," I point out, and he looks like he's thinking.

"Shoulder?" he offers, and I shake my head.

"No, it needs to go somewhere else, that doesn't make sense."

"You could do the opposite of a tramp-stamp, and put it above your dick," he laughs, and I shove him playfully.

"Fuck no! That's retarded. And I don't really want that hot chick poking around my junk with a needle," I add.

"What about between your shoulder blades? Like at the base of your neck?" he offers, and shows me physically by poking the spot on my back.

"Hm, I actually like that!" I admit. And before I can say anything else, Kyle stands up and walks quickly to the counter.

"Joan, I think we're ready," he tells her, and my heart starts beating fast again. Fuck, now this is actually happening!

"Alright, cool. Come on over to the chair, and we'll get you set," she says, eyes in my direction. I must be frozen in shock, because Kyle has to come walk me over to the chair.

"We might need a private room. This one tends to have a weak stomach," Kyle warns Joan, and she moves her supplies from the public chair she had been setting up at and leads us to a door.

Kyle leads me around the chair and makes me sit, and I numbly watch Joan set up her equipment around the room. Kyle takes a seat in another chair (one that's obviously less intimidating than the one I'm in), and stares at me with a knowing grin on his face.

"So what did you pick?" Joan asks, suddenly at my side. I turn slightly towards her, but Kyle chimes in.

"He wants this one, right between the tops of his shoulder blades," he tells her, and she looks back at me and then to Kyle.

"He's not the talkative type, is he?"

"He's just really nervous."

"Well kid, if you want it on your back, then you'll need to get up and sit the other way in the chair," she tells me, and I make it a point to stand up without the help of Kyle again.

It seems pretty self-explanatory how to sit in this chair backwards, since there seems to be a special place for every body part to fit. And once I'm sitting, she readjusts the head rest so it becomes a face rest. I use it to face-desk, and hug around the back of the chair. Kyle is motioning for me to do breathing exercises when I peek up at him, and I glare and bury my face again.

"Don't get too comfy, Stan, you still have to take your shirt off," Kyle says triumphantly, giving me a sly grin. I sigh, and sit back enough to peel my jacket off and pull my shirt over my head. I blush at my now half-nakedness, and throw my shirt onto Kyle's giggling face.

At least I'm toned, or this would be even worse.

When I sit back down, I feel Joan rub the top of my back with something cold and wet, and quickly learn from the smell that it's alcohol. Then she measures out the area with her fingers.

"About like that?" she asks me, her fingers resting on the top of either shoulder blade.

"Yeah, that's fine," I mumble into the face rest.

"I'm going to shave the area, head's up. Any amount of hair gets in the way," she informs me, and I mumble my response again into the face rest.

I try to ignore everything that I feel, trying to numb my senses for when it's needle time. I glance up at Kyle, who is watching intently. I bet he won't seem so interested when he's sitting in this chair.

When I feel Joan place something papery on my back, I jump a little. Oh god, it must be needle time...

"What's that for?" Kyle asks.

"This is the stencil. All I have to do is press this onto his skin and it transfers the outline. Saves a lot of time and pain, on his part." I spin around a bit in excitement.

"Really, no needles?" I ask quickly. Joan laughs at me.

"This is only the outline. There's still needles," she says, and my excitement fades. I return to my face rest and mope.

She presses firmly on my back, transferring the outline between my shoulder blades. When she removes the paper, she rubs more stuff on my back, and then I hear her rummage around with something metallic, and my heart rate skyrockets. Oh god, oh god, oh god...

"Okay kid, time for the moment of truth," she says, and she clicks on the tattoo gun.

I give Kyle a desperate look, and throw my hand out in his direction. He gets the hint, and scoots his chair closer and holds my hand. I don't care how gay it is, because I know I'm going to need something to squeeze. And it may as well be the one who put me up to this bullshit.

"Eep!" I squeak when the needle touches my back. 'Eep'? Really? But I have no time to reflect on my girlish squeals of pain, because ow ow ow ow!

"Jesus, Stan! Ow!" Kyle cries as I grip his hand harder and harder, and I glare at him with tears stinging my eyes.

"Don't fucking cry, you don't know pain!" I tell him, and I hear Joan snicker behind me.

"You're both babies, if you ask me."

An hour and a half later, I have a tattoo.

My eyes didn't stop watering the entire time, and I can finally wipe them away once and for all when I hear the gun click off. Joan rubs ointment over it, saying something about it preventing infection, and hands me a mirror. When I look into it, I see her holding a mirror behind me to bend the reflection of my back from hers into mine.

"Whaddya think?" she asks, and I'm a little in shock. I didn't expect it to look so badass.

"It's so cool," I say, staring at it. It's a bit red and swollen, but still. It's going to look totally awesome.

"Dude!" Kyle says from behind me, seeing it for the first time. "That looks amazing!"

"Leave this bandage on for no less than three hours," Joan tells me as she puts a patch over the area. "If it gets infected, that's not my problem. Let me give you some info for aftercare..."

Kyle hands me my shirt and jacket as Joan rummages around in a drawer for my information, and I take the opportunity to make myself fully dressed again. A minute later, she shoves a paper at me.

"After you remove the bandage, wash the area with warm water and soap, preferably an off-brand. They sting less. If it's slimy, that's just plasma, so make sure you clean it all off. Don't use anything but your hand to clean it, because it will get irritated. You can shower with it, but don't get in any hot tubs or salt water for a few weeks.

"If it starts to scab, don't pick at it. You can put lotion on it to keep it from peeling, or any ointment on it if it starts to bleed or anything. Don't use Neosporin, because that's not going to do any good. Keep it out of the sun for a while, and always use sunscreen or else it will fade really fast.

And of course, all of that is on the paper," Joan tells me, and I try to follow along. I'm glad to see there's more on here than what came out of her mouth. I look up at her, and she smiles and leads us out of the room.

"You're still paying for this, right?" I ask Kyle, and he nods.

"That'll be $45," Joan says, and Kyle sighs and rolls his eyes at me.

"You better be happy with it," he says, and I scoff.

"You better be happy with it, you're the one who made me get it!" He hands his bank card to Joan, who swipes it and hands it back.

"Thanks boys, it's been a pleasure," she says as we turn to leave.

"Expect us back on May 26th, he has to go through the same thing!" I call over my shoulder, and Kyle pushes me the rest of the way out the door. He swings his arm around my shoulder once we're outside, and I wince loudly.

"So do you really like it? You don't hate me for making you go through all this?" he asks, noticeably removing weight from his arm around my shoulder so he doesn't hurt me.

"Honestly, I love it. I'm glad you made me do it," I admit. "So, what's next?"

"Next," he starts as we get in the car, "we pick up lunch and head back to town."

Wendy's was for lunch, which was my request, and Kyle seemed to be irritated by this. We ate that on the ride home, and now we're sitting on the hood of Kyle's car at Stark's Pond, the rest of my birthday treats in my lap.

"Okay, first thing's first," I say as I hand Kyle the open pack of cigarettes, my own dangling from my lips. He takes one out as I search my pockets for my lighter. Once successful, I light his and then mine. I inhale deeply, but my exhale of smoke is accompanied by a coughing fit. "Fuck, I hate these things."

"Me too," Kyle agrees, also coughing a little. Nonetheless, we take another drag. "Hurry up and scratch that Lotto ticket."

I make the naughty magazine into a makeshift desk on my lap, and situate the Lotto ticket so I can scratch everything off as quickly as possible. After frenzied scratching, I hold it up to check for any winnings.

"Dude... I won!" I exclaim. Kyle leans over my shoulder to investigate for himself.

"Holy shit, dude! $1000! Oh my god!" He takes the ticket from me to stare at it.

"Oh my god, Kyle, what are we gonna do with it?" I ask, still in shock.

"You have to save it! Because for my 18th, we have to go gambling and all the other stuff we couldn't do together today!"

"Yes! Damnit, why does your birthday have to be so far away?" I whine, snatching my ticket back. Holy shit, I can't believe everything that's happened today.

"Blame my parents for not having sex at the same time yours did," he kids. "And you better not spend that, seriously. That's 18th birthday money, dude!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know," I reassure him as I slip it into my back pocket. I take another drag of my cigarette and tear off the plastic of the magazine. "Now let's crack this baby open."

It's a good thing Kyle and I have been looking at naughty magazines together for years, or this would be incredibly awkward. And I'm certainly glad for the psychological effect of someone else being around to prevent either of us from getting a boner. At least nothing has changed...

"Real or fake?" I ask him, pointing to a blonde sprawled across the page. I personally think they're fake.

"Fake, totally. They're too big to be that perky."

I'm prevented from any further analysis, though, because my phone is going off in my pocket. I pull it out, to see that I'm being called by Wendy.

"Hey babe," I answer. I hand the magazine to Kyle, knowing this will be a little bit.

"Stan Marsh! How dare you not show up to school today!" she yells into the phone, and I can't tell if she's being serious or not.

"Sorry, that wasn't really my fault. Kyle kidnapped me away to Denver for the day," I explain.

"Well did you forget your phone? I've been texting you all day!" Hm, I actually had forgotten about it all day...

"Uh, no, but I just didn't check it all day... Am I in trouble?" It's almost a trap question, because having to bring it up almost always means yes.

"Yes! I didn't get to see you today, for one, and I didn't get to give you your birthday present!" Jesus Christ, both of those aren't even a big deal. I turn to Kyle, who motions for me to hang up.

"Wendy, I said I'm sorry. But you don't have to yell at me, it's my birthday. Do you want me to come over later?" I ask, and Kyle face-palms in defeat.

"Yeah, okay. I guess that's better than nothing," she decides.

"Okay cool. Well I'm hanging out with Kyle still, so I'll text you when I'm coming over."

"Fine. Love you."

"Love you too, babe. Bye," and I hang up. Kyle is glaring at me when I turn around.

"One: ew. Two: really? You're gonna ditch me?" he whines, and I take the last drag of my cigarette and flick it into the pond.

"Well, I figured it would be okay since I got to spend all day with you..." I reason, but he still looks disappointed. "Look, we'll have another cig and finish looking at the magazine, and then I'll go. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine." I sigh; he still looks sad, and I know it's more than because I'm leaving him. "But you have to admit that I gave you the best birthday."

"I don't think there's anything Wendy could give me as a birthday gift that would top all of yours," I tell him, in full honesty. He grins, and grabs another cigarette from the pack.

Right before I light him, I notice a tiny white fleck flitter down from the sky and land on his nose, and we both stare at it in wonder.

"It's fucking snowing!" I yell, noticing many more snowflakes falling around us."Best birthday ever!"

"Damnit, perfect timing, too!" Kyle grumbles, though his face still looks excited by the tiny white flakes. I scoot closer to him and hand him the lighter.

"Okay, two more cigarettes. I will compromise my own health to buy more time with you," I tell him, and he flashes me a smile that makes my heart skip.

"I'm gonna take my sweet time, then," he says, lighting up.

"Me, too."

"Where the hell have you been?" is my greeting from Wendy when she opens her door. "I thought you were gonna be here an hour ago."

"Sorry, I was with Kyle." She scoffs, and then pauses to sniff me.

"Have you been smoking?" Oh lord, I don't know if it's better to lie about this one or not.

"No, we were at a casino. Everyone else was smoking." Now she's glaring at me.

"Kyle's not old enough to gamble, Stan."

"Okay, yes, Mother, I had a couple cigarettes. I am old enough to buy them now," I tell her, and roll my eyes.

"Christ, that doesn't mean you should smoke them! You're going to get lung cancer!" And now I'm glaring at her.

"You haven't wished me 'happy birthday' yet." Suddenly, her expression changes as a sly grin creeps across her face.

"That's because I have a special way of saying it this year..." she purrs. I can't help it, I'm a sucker for her when she's sexy. All my irritatedness has melted away, and she grabs my hand and leads me upstairs to her room.

"Are your parents home?"

"Thankfully, no. They won't be home until eight..."

Once we're in the security of her room, she closes the door and we practically jump each other. It's so frantic and heated, it's driving me crazy. She takes of my jacket and I lead us to her bed, tumbling onto the mattress in a heap. After situating myself, I'm leaning over her as we make out. Her tongue is amazing...

She wraps her legs around my waist and uses her feet to press against my lower back. I take her hint, and start grinding against her; something we've been doing recently. It's not skin-on-skin, but it still feels amazing...

"I got a tattoo..." I whisper between kisses as I pull her into a sitting position. She straddles me and gives me a shocked look.

"What? Where?" I realize I can take the bandage off now, actually.

"On my back. Look," I tell her, and I pull my shirt over my head. I spin around just enough for her to see where the bandage is. "You can take it off, but put it back on. I'm not ready to go clean it yet..."

She carefully peels the bandage back to reveal the swollen area, and her eyes light up. She puts it back in place a bit less carefully than she removed it, and grabs my face to continue kissing me.

"Oh my god, that's so hot..." She takes the opportunity to push me back onto the bed, and she is still straddling me. "Are you ready for your present...?"

I can only nod.

In the same manner I had done, she lifts her shirt over her head, revealing a sexy black bra. Okay, seeing her in a bra isn't anything new... But my eyes are glued to her hands, moving up behind her back, then to her shoulders, and...

...Then the bra is laying across my stomach.

Sorry, Kyle, but this comes pretty damn close to yours as being the best birthday present yet.

A/N: Happy birthday Stan~ Though this is very early. XD Sorry it's so long, but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter! Stan's a naughty boy~

I REALLY need suggestions for scenes to draw! I'm considering drawing four for this chapter instead of the usual three, because there's so much going on... So please tell me what you'd like to see!

Thanks for reading!