Kyle was high.

Kyle knew that most people who smoked pot were douchebags, and he still believed that, even when he found himself smoking it nearly every day. He didn't get goofy when he was high, he didn't laugh at stupid stuff, and he always rolled his eyes at people who acted like complete retards after a toke.

But when he smoked pot, he felt warm, relaxed and like his limbs weighed a hundred pounds each, in a pleasant sort of way. It was just … nice.

"Ahhhhh …" he sighed, blowing the smoke out the car window.

"Yeah, don't get that stuff over here, man," Stan said. "You know how I get."

Stan really was a wonderful friend. He hated smoke, was borderline asthmatic, but he always let Kyle smoke in his car, let Kyle keep his fucking stash in his goddamn car, all because he was amazing.

"I love you so fucking much, Stan," Kyle said.

Stan chuckled. "Dude, you're so fucking queer when you're high."

"Yeah, a little," Kyle admitted. "Thanks for everything, though, really."

"Dude, it's cool. I know how your mom is."

"Yeah, but still, dude. You don't have to be so, so cool, all the fucking time. You're like fucking Superman."

"Superman, huh?" Stan grinned. "That's pretty cool. But I think Batman's more badass."

"You're not angsty enough to be Batman, dude."

"Not queer enough, either. I don't want a Robin." Stan gave him that look again, that look that Kyle recognized even when he was high. Like Stan wanted to talk to him. Like he was going to ask him something. But he never would. Too much of a pussy.

"You're too much of a pussy, man." Kyle found himself swaying to the song on the radio.

"What do you mean?" Stan asked, but Kyle cut him off.

"Dude, you're supposed to turn here."

"Fuck! Well I can't get over. Do you think I can circle around?"

"I don't know, man. Maybe if you weren't too much of a pussy to do a U-Turn."

"They're fucking dangerous, dude. And my car's too big."

"Is that a euphemism?"

"Seriously, dude. Ridiculously queer when you're high." Stan looked at him again.

Maybe Kyle was imagining it. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe Stan didn't think anything of it at all. Stan didn't think about that sort of stuff, or at least, it didn't seem so to Kyle. Stan was always kind of simple, in a totally cool, non-shallow way. He loved his family, and he loved his friends, and he enjoyed school sports but found studies to be the bane of his existence. He dated a lot of people, but aside from Bebe had never dated anyone seriously.

Kyle had to be imagining it. It wasn't that Stan wasn't astute enough to draw conclusions about someone's personal life; it was that he wasn't so presumptuous.

Kyle was trying to think of something to say, but he couldn't form the words. He decided to play with the glove box in front of him. He very slowly opened it, and very slowly closed it.

"Okay, dude," Stan went on, "I think I can pull into their driveway and pull out. Should turn off my lights, don't wanna blind them through the fucking windows."

Kyle could only presume that Stan did turn around because the car was going a different way, but he couldn't take his eyes off of his hands. Opening. Closing.

"Okay, sweet, dude, Burger Shack awaits us! Double cheeseburger with bacon and goat cheese. Fuck yeah!"

"Cool," Kyle said.

"Don't you get hungry when you're high? Munchies or some shit like that?" Stan asked.

"Dude, don't be so cliché."

"I guess you're right. I mean, you're the one who would know about that life." Stan put a really weird emphasis on the 'you're.'

Kyle wondered what on earth Stan could possibly mean by that, wondered if Stan meant at all what he thought he meant. Could he be reading into things? He was high, after all, and he was feeling a little bit guilty.

The thought of Kenny knowing something that Stan didn't really bothered Kyle. But Kenny doesn't know anything, Kyle assured himself. There's nothing to know. There's nothing to it. I'm just a kinky bastard; I'm not a fucking homo. Jesus, Kyle, get a hold of yourself.

"Jesus, Kyle, get a hold of yourself," he said aloud.

"That sounds like the end to a semi-interesting internal monologue," Stan said. Kyle turned to him. Stan had parked the car, and he was turning off the ignition.

"Dude," Kyle said, feeling oddly floaty, "we're here?"

"Yeah, man. We're here." Stan gave him a pitiful look and shook his head. "You're fucking baked."

"So?"

Stan gave an odd half-smile. "Let's go get burgers, okay?"