Stan Marsh

Stan Marsh. A popular jock that has almost everything: athletic, handsome, hot, black hair, blue eyes, and with a boyish grin that makes everyone agree it's cute. You and Stan share a band (of two people), iconically named "Sparky's Fury." And it seems like his ex, Wendy Testaburgers, is still into him. Which he doesn't know how to handle unless you help him - which you did by having awesome sex with him last night. He doesn't seem to want to acknowledge it even if his eyes often linger on your face and the way you play your instruments. He has a crush on you, but is afraid on how to address it because he doesn't want to lose you, even if you two had sex already.

He lives in a weed farm that his father, Randy Marsh loves but Stan hates. He got an older lesbian sister called Shelley Marsh, and a loving mother called Sharon Marsh.

He has his hot-headed super best friend Kyle Broflovski, and his perverted friend Kenny McCormick. Stan has a gay brown dog named Sparky.

The way he grins and how his eyes smile when you make a stupid joke just effortlessly handsome. He's also stupidly caring in his weird passive-aggressive ways. He also loves talking about all genre of rock music as well as random animal facts. He plays football even if he hates it since his father forced him to play.

He's also a great mechanic and rides his bike.

Stan's standing by your locker again, and unlike the first time, you feel like this is a bit too much. You don't expect him to approach you in school. You were fine with your old nightly arrangement, where you and Stan just talk back on their farm, but then again, the both of you didn't really talk about this kind of boundary either.

You awkwardly greeted him with a fist bump when he offered one a bit enthusiastically.

Despite finally feeling uncomfortable with the eyes staring pointedly at you two, you try not to care too much as you acted chill around him. Stan seems to realize this and rubbed the back of his neck, taking something out of his pocket.

"I know you're getting tired of me, but you forgot this." He gave it to you with a timid smirk.

You looked at the AirPod in your palm and snorted. You were wondering where you've misplaced this. You glanced at him, giving him a raised eyebrow and a smile. "I didn't say I'm getting tired of you, but I am tired from what happened a while ago."

You and Stan curiously turned to the dramatic gasps bellowing behind you. You ended up glaring at Kelly-Anne and Lola listening to your conversation, they're a bit too close for comfort.

"What?" You snapped. They only glanced at each other before scampering off. You clicked your tongue, a bit annoyed at the stories they'd try to invent, but you can't do anything about it. At least you and Stan knew the truth, and that's what matters.

You just hoped Testaburgers won't go after your ass if she ever hears those lies. But then again, you might actually like that.

"You're not bothered by the yentas?" Stan cut off your thoughts.

You huffed before sighing out loud in defeat, "I am, but people make rumors and crap shit like that. I just try not to get bothered about what they have to say when I know the real story." You try to assure yourself more than him, and Stan nodded at the nugget of knowledge you gave him.

"Words to live by." He muses, poking his head beside yours. You faintly smell his shampoo and aftershave, and you focused on opening your locker when he glanced at you, "You've got a boring box."

"There's nothing interesting in my locker, brah." You said, pushing his head away. He chuckled, unabashed with staring at you fix your things.

"You're fibbing. You have a shoebox." Stan argued, trying to sneak his hand in.

You slapped it away, closing your locker and giving him a tired look, which he returned with a goofy one. Jeez. Can't hate that boyish look.

"It's alcohol, isn't it?" He tried to guess, making you roll your eyes at him.

You can hate that boyish look. "Don't project. I place my extra clothes in there just in case of emergency." You explained swiftly, passing him and praying that he'll leave you be.

"Like what?" Stan asked, and you cursed inwardly when he followed you in the busy hallways.

"Senior pranks." South Park High school Seniors tend to make their couple of last weeks messy. You've thought these kinds of traditions were literally old school, but it's not to the green cows.

"Mooing Chaos" is their unofficial motto, and honestly? It's fun, if not for the fact it's stressful.

Stan stared at you as if he had a mini flashback of some sort, before half-grinning with a tint of amusement.

"I heard from Barry that they're going to try and sneak in tomatoes and paint our statue red." He shared with a little conspiracy in his whispery voice, and you glanced at him with a question, "Barry?"

"McKinsey." He clarified, and your eyes widened in recognition, "Ah, green cow number twenty-three."

He chuckled at your nickname, "Yeah, he's our team captain, but I'm going to try to take his spot once we get to Junior."

You smiled at him, offering him a fist he easily bumped onto.

"What's that for?" He asked after, raising an eyebrow with that cheeky grin on him. Too bad he doesn't have dimples, you think he would've looked cute with them.

"For good luck." You stated simply, avoiding Donovan and his gaggle of freshman girls. You and Stan shared a disapproving gaze at him but otherwise ignored the brunet.

"Oh, yeah, I'll be needing lots of it." Stan presumed, shoving his hands in his green letterman.

You don't agree with him though. "That's spot basically for you, dude."

"Yeah?" Blue eyes skidded to yours, lighting up a bit at the confidence in your voice, "what makes you say that?"

"You're basically team captain already, maybe not formally. But everyone thinks you are." You spiel easily, knowing full well he's that famous in school and you can't believe he doesn't even notice how everyone is looking at you two walk.

"You're just saying that." Stan rebuked, trying to be self-deprecating more than humble, and you pinched his arm, making him wince. You gave him a stern gaze he returned with a wide one.

"Look, you're that good. I keep forgetting you're not the captain because come on, you were active on the field and everyone respects the hell out of you."

It's true. You don't usually watch the game when in season, but you did when Testaburgers cheered with Bebe's cheer team.

It may be subtle, but every player on the field often turns to Stan when they huddle up. Number twenty-three only acts the part. A mascot.

Stan already got the experience and is skilled and charismatic enough to become team captain but their coach is a traditionalist of some sort. The old guy doesn't believe in sophomores and freshmen being "experienced" enough. The old fart doesn't know what prodigy means even if you throw the dictionary description at his face.

How did you know that? Well, overhearing people rant in the library can be more fun than reading the part of the book you don't want to skim through.

Stan still looks like he doesn't believe you, but you rolled your eyes, not forcing your own opinion on him.

Instead, you want to share your thought, and you did so with an encouraging smile, "I dunno if you were the reason why the Green Cows won against the Black Eagle last season, but I believe you had a part in it."

Stan looks at you shyly, flustered as he scratches the back of his head. He gave you a grin, his eyes squinting a bit. "...Thanks."

You suddenly feel your footsteps getting sluggish, your stare falling to the ground. When he looks at you like that, you suddenly feel embarrassed being with him.

It just feels too friendly.

You adjusted the straps of your bag when you two finally reached his homeroom. He's lucky he's still in Class A. You've long been demoted to Class B, but it's a good thing since you don't have to see Testaburgers anymore.

"Thanks for giving back my AirPod. Now we can just," you gestured at Stan and shooed him off, before leaving him by the door, but he wasn't done with you.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you back, almost making you fall on your back if not for him helping you up with that stupid chuckle of his.

"Dude, not funny." You chided, pushing him off you, but he took your annoyance as a joke. He's still holding you, his grip a bit light but overwhelming.

"It was to me." He smiled cheekily. His eyes glance down at his hand, squeezing your arm. "So... Uh, the gang and I are going to Hooters."

Wow. What a classy place, you thought grinning to yourself. "And?"

"Want to come by?" He invited, hopefully, nervously, you don't really know what that forced laugh by the end of his question means.

You pretend to think over it, even when you wanted to say yes, mostly because you wanted to talk to Kyle and Kenny without looking out of place. That, and it's fun to see Stan stress a bit.

"Am I paying for anything?" You asked as if it's the selling point for you to agree.

He rose an eyebrow, giving you his boyish grin. "Seriously?"

"What? I'm saving money for gas," you half-complained, half-teased, "Visiting you isn't cheap, Stan."

"Okay, go on and guilt trip me, see if I care." He chuckled while shaking his head, "But yeah, I'm paying. Just got my allowance." He boasted with a mischievous grin, knowing full well you'll have yours by the end of the month.

You raised your fist at him but he caught your wrist already, making you roll your eyes at his proud smirk since he one-upped you this time.

"A'ight, I'm-rich-at-the-moment-guy, I'm just in for the free food." You clarified.

Stan beamed brightly, his happiness radiating off him like the missing sun. It's the first you see him that way, and honestly? You had to look away because you're so used to seeing him broody at night that you weren't expecting him to be this happy by day.

"Nice." He nodded, letting your wrist go with one last squeeze.

"Nice." You echoed back, fist-bumping his chest before moving on. You avoided Heidi's probing stare and even Malkinson's bewildered gasp when you passed him.

You already know it's freaking weird to see two people who don't talk on campus acting close all of a sudden, but jeez, you hope they get flies in their mouths.

"Remember, Hooters at five!" Stan shouted when you were about to step into a corner, and you stopped, shooting him a glare.

"Wow, fucking shout what a degenerate we are, Marsh." You screamed back, making a couple of students, including him, laugh.

Hooters with Stan's childhood friends were wild. Being with them is tiring, but it leaves you a whole lot satisfied. You forgot how fun it was to be in a big group that actually put an effort into keeping you in the conversation.

It sure beats looking and feeling like an accessory when you stood around Testaburgers and her friends.

Kyle looked like he'd rather die than be in the building. Kenny has an accomplished smile on him like he was having the time of his life. And Stan? Stan kept asking if you were fine while also juggling with having to laugh at Kenny and listening to Kyle.

Their group is a weird mix. One guy is an attractive tanned musician-slash-athlete, and the other is a sophisticated multitalented high-achiever. Then they have their resident streetsmart and casual hoodie guy (because junkie is overrated) that made the three boys stand up even more.

Apparently, Cartman used to be one of them, which surprises you a bit because the guy is always getting into detention and his friends excel in their specialty in school.

You didn't get hit on by the workers as much as you expected. You actually find it amusing. Of course, everyone else at your table was handsome and interesting in their own way. It's fun to listen to Stan and Kyle get flustered, before making smooth comebacks that made you inwardly swoon and holler with Kenny. The blond has no problem firing his game like a master Casanova. He pretty much got a lot of tissues in his pockets with written numbers on them.

You were mostly there for the vibe and the food. While you love staring at the girls' presented assets and watching them interact with your company, you find yourself mostly enjoying the lots-a-tots and cheese sticks. Who needs to talk when you got your mouth busy and stomach happy?

Kenny kept having selfies with the group, and whenever he does, Kyle gets all camera shy and started moving around - much to your and Stan's entertainment.

Every one of the pictures ends with the redhead looking like he was the Bigfoot. It's like he blurred out of the scene, or as Stan whispered, "blurred out of existence".

Kyle was very insistent that he doesn't want his mom or brother to know he goes into this kind of establishment. Something about trying to be a good role model, which was sweet. But also, kind of lame. He also went on a tangent about how he'd be banned, disowned, and how he'd be too embarrassed to face his family if they know.

"What a drama king," Stan whispered to you, and you almost choked on your buffalo wings. Kenny leaned close to you, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek.

"Remember when you choked on my cock," The blond whispered to your ear, making you put your head down on the table as you try to cough out the chicken skin that got stuck in your throat.

Stan and Kenny laughed at your misery, and you're there, just tearing up, just trying to eat your food in peace. Just hiding from Kyle's intimidating glare.

"Are you guys even listening?" The redhead asked, and you're still coughing so you can't really reply.

Stan pointed at the blond patting your back. "Kenny said he wants to choke you with his dick."

"Stan!" Kenny grabbed the noir's brown hemp shirt, only to shake him. "That was our secret!"

Everyone at the table fell silent. You almost heard yourself look up at Stan, and Stan turned to you with an equally confused expression.

Kenny didn't say anything about that to Stan. But you all already know what Kenny wants.

"God fucking damn it, Kenny." Kyle seethed, "I wish Cartman's here to call you a slut."

"Hot." The blond laughed, before taking his phone out, instantly making Kyle hide under the table.

"Sup," you greeted him in your domain, drying your tear up as you patted Stan's thigh for water. Stan glanced down as you make a drinking motion while you sit on the floor, and he carefully gave you his untouched glass.

You shot him a grateful smile before turning to the redhead with your drink, "What made you visit this fine under-table?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes and did the same thing to his best friend, Stan giving Kyle his hydro flask and a pat on the head.

For some odd reason, Broflovski looked smug. "Jealous?" He asked as if proving to you his superiority.

You grimaced and put your tongue out, "No, that was gay."

He stepped on your white converse, making you glare at him, and roughly stomped on his brown boots back. He doesn't look bothered, just annoyed, but the expression easily faded when you tried to clean your shoes with a tissue.

"So... long time no talk." Kyle started, not really knowing what to say.

"Yep, awkward in the under-table, huh?" You grinned, sipping on your glass. You pushed Kenny's hand away from your scalp when he kept bothering you, his conversation with Stan a bit hushed.

"It's good to see you hitting the books again." Kyle beamed, opening his flask and staring at it, "It's also good to see Stan with someone who's actually responsible for once."

You wanted to ask what Kyle meant, but you feel like it's better not to ask, lest, you'd have to stay under here far longer than you would've liked. He has a thing with overcomplicating his explanations.

"You worry for him." You teased with a smile, and Kyle smiled back.

"Why wouldn't I? He's my best friend. Everyone worries for their best friend."

"Sweet." You giggled, making the redhead roll his eyes. He tried hard to snarl but his grin keeps climbing up, "Shut up."

You and Kyle talked a little bit about school before he suddenly started lecturing you about missing out on making your grades better, but you two didn't loiter long, he got up first, and you followed after him.

Stan and Kenny were flirting with this jaw-dropping Navajo server, that you almost forgot how to exist. You and Broflovski looked at each other, probably thinking the same thing, and just, bro fist because wow, good for them.

"What did you guys talk about?" Stan asked, returning his focus back to you after you settled in your seat.

"Would you like to know," you grinned goadingly.

"Yeah, that's why I'm asking." Stan dumbly replied, not catching your drift.

You huffed and patted his hand. "It's confidential stuff."

"If you don't tell me, then I'll tell what you told me to Kenny." Stan blackmails with a winning smirk, knowing full well you don't like his ultimatum.

You threw your hands in the air in defeat. He chuckled victoriously before leaning close to hear you out.

"We talked about you and being responsible." You told him, making him blinked and looked at you curiously.

"Responsible? About what?"

"Life, I guess." You shrugged, glancing at Kyle, who seems engrossed in something on his phone. "I don't know. I stopped listening when Kyle started lecturing me about performing subpar in school."

"Aw," Stan grinned, pinching your cheek. "That means he cares about you." He sing-sang, making you grimaced and slapped his hand off.

"Ew, Stan."

Stan chuckled, before getting distracted and taking his phone out from his pants. "Just a sec, it's from Kyle."

You gave him a disbelieving expression, turning to Kyle who just looks at you with a smirk.

Why the fuck even? They could just talk like normal people. They're basically sitting with each other. Jeez.

You shook your head. You can't believe those two.

"Hehehehehehe."

You got distracted by someone snickering like a raccoon and turned to Kenny. He's tearing up, muffling his chuckles by biting his lips.

"You're gonna have a busted lip if you keep doing that," you told him, and the blond glanced up and didn't bother answering you.

But he did show you the screen of his phone.

Kenny tagged Kyle in his Facebook posts. His mom seems actively commenting in all caps if that was Kyle or not. The whole notion of it made you grin.

Kyle is the only guy that uses green and orange in his clothes as a signature color in South Park - so you're amused that she even has to question the blurred entity.

You didn't know that Kenny and the others kept using Facebook still, but it's funny to see more of her comments start adding up.

When the hooter servers started performing for the guests, Kenny started flirting with you while making obscene blowjob innuendos like he haven't started when he saw you sitting with Stan.

Kyle, on the other hand, talked and complained about a lot of things - somehow having the ability not to glance at the dancing ladies completely. Kenny kept giving bad advice about Broflovski's problems while you and Stan listen along.

"Kenny, you pick your nose while answering our pretest in chemistry and you still got perfect. I don't think your method can apply to me." Kyle answered, pissed and tired, but still tolerably calm.

"I'm just saying, you need to chillax and have a good blowjob," Kenny stated, wagging his eyebrows at you. You gave him a pursed smile but otherwise ignored him.

"Aren't you studying too much that everything started to sound the same? Why not just, stop studying for a while and play Minecraft with Ike?"

"Great, amazing, Stan. Why didn't I think of that." Kyle sarcastically replied. His eyes slowly lidded with a snarl climbing on his lips. "He doesn't want to play with me and I grew out of playing video games. It's not intellectually stimulating."

"I know another way to stimulate." Kenny grins cheekily, sticky blue eyes raving your body up from below.

You flipped him off, before regarding Kyle, "How about joining the Board club? Playing scrabble and chess can be fun. It makes you want to read the dictionary and enhances your analysis and critical thinking," You suggested, and Kyle turned to you with some sort of respect in his eyes. "That's the most reasonable advice I've heard tonight."

"You know what else (Name)'s reasonably great at?"

Stan and Kyle groaned in sync. You followed after them, "Kenny, please stop."

The blond's smirk seems to grow even more mischievous. "Funny, that's not what you said that night."

Stan massaged the bridge of his nose, clearly pissed at Kenny while Kyle avoided looking at you. You smoothly changed the topic to football and asked Stan who's against the green cows this season.

In the end, you think you fit in with their dynamics. They invited you to be with them, but you don't think you'd have the energy to match their intensity, so you turned down Kyle's invitation of joining them for lunch.

Still, it was fun to be with them. If you didn't learn to love reading in the library, maybe you would've considered joining their clique.

Your parents weren't home and Stan was sitting on your living room couch like he own the place. He keeps switching channels on the T.V.

Meanwhile, you're focusing on your laptop screen.

Stan started talking about getting his hair dyed blond, "Do you think I'd look okay with it? You know, maybe like a fade. Or maybe dye my hair all blue."

You tried imagining it, but you can't see the whole picture. "I don't know, you should go and try it. You'll never know if it would fit you," you replied, a bit distracted at fixing your essay structure and chewing the rubber in your mouth.

"I couldn't. Maybe in the future, I would." He confessed and you turned to him.

"What? You've got no balls for it?" You teased.

He shrugged, expression bored as he settled on watching a random series on HBO Max. "Coach doesn't like anything unnatural in the team, hence the ban on piercings, tattoos, and all that crap."

"He sounds like a hippie," You laughed, popping a bubble with your gum.

"For real dude," He grumbled, rubbing his palm on his forehead, "I'm a bit jealous that Kenny can do all those crap. If my dad doesn't pressure me to play, maybe I would've started a band. Maybe I'd look like what I wanted to look."

"Oh yeah, you can magnet way more freaky chicks that way." You mumbled, and Stan hummed his chuckle.

"I don't think we'd be friends if that happened. Down that line, maybe I won't even date Wendy." He wonders out loud, and you glanced at him, putting your tongue out when you realized he was already looking at you.

Jeez. He should turn off the T.V if he's gonna end up watching you like a creep.

"You still got a stick?" He asked, smirking at your frustration.

"No, I'm still drying your dad's weed in the basement. Also, no smoking in the house." You lectured, grabbing his ankle and squeezing it tight.

Stan chuckled, shaking his head as he pulls his foot away from you, "That's not what I meant,"

"What did you mean, brah?" You mused, raising your eyebrow at him.

He pointed at your lips, giving you a serious look. "Bubblegum." He clarified, and you try not to make it obvious, but you sighed in relief.

You were wondering what kind of freaking stick he was referring to. You took the pack of gum sitting beside you before throwing it at him. "Just say gum like the rest of us," you teased, before getting an idea.

It's not the smartest, but it's an idea.

You turned to him with a grin, "Hey, want me to photoshop your hair and see how it'll look?"

Stan sat up straight and quickly moved down to sit on the carpeted floor beside you, "Fuck yeah!" He cheered.

You downloaded a picture of his profile pic from Facebook. "You trying to look mysterious here?" You joked, and Stan bumped his shoulder to yours, "I only look good with mirror selfies."

"So with ten billion Instagram chicks out there." You rolled your eyes, opened photoshop, and imported his image into the app.

"What can I say? I'm basic." Stan chuckled, watching you select the area around his hair and... You lost him with how fast you were clicking.

When his hair turned blond, you turned your head away and snorted. Stan was the first one to laugh between you.

"Nooo, I look fucking gay," He chortled, slapping his thigh as he barks another round of laughter after glancing at his screen.

"It's not that bad," you laughed, falling to the floor. "It looks good on you... If you want to dress gay."

Stan suddenly stopped laughing and you did too. Did you offend him? No way, his skin is too thick for that. You looked up at him and he was staring at you in horror.

"Oh, shit,"

You furrowed your eyebrows, concerned, "What?"

Stan paled, "I swallowed the gum,"

Like a good friend, his worry made you snort. "For a second, I heard you say cum,"

Stan groaned before slugging your arm, you winced at the strength of it, but otherwise laughed at his embarrassed expression.

"...I won't like, blow a bubble when I poop right?" He asked, slowly getting terrified of his question.

You suddenly couldn't breathe with how hard you wheezed.

You're greeted by Sparky when you're about to start hanging out with Stan on their front porch again. The dog instantly jumped toward you when you walked out of your car, making you laugh. You carried him to the porch like a baby. He seems to really like it, with his paws tucked in and panting with his doggy smile, but he whined when Stan took him out from your arms and put him on the ground.

You try not to think much about it when he softly slapped Sparky's hind leg and told the poor boy to scram.

"Dude, Sparky just wants to vibe." You defended the poor doggy, who kept looking back while climbing the stairs. His ears and tails are down too, the poor thing. He even looks like he's crying. How can Stan be so heartless with that face?

Stan was adamant with his decision though, "No, he ate my last pizza slice so he doesn't have any right to vibe with us."

Wow. What an owner. You shook your head, smiling at his pettiness and sitting down on the wooden bench they've installed lately.

You two pretty much just talked about Metallica and how you're getting a hang of finally listening to the lyrics. You find yourself enjoying the metaphorical art and skills needed to produce a song.

You're really impressed at the fact Stan can sing like one. Or, scream like them. Though, when you two fell silent, you can't help but feel yourself getting down in the dumps. You closed your eyes, leaning forward and pressing your hands to your face.

Somehow, it's suddenly easier to talk your thoughts out.

"Hey, Stan."

He hummed, "Yeah?"

You gulped the nervousness in your throat, whispering your question, "Did you... really dated Testaburgers after the day I broke up with her?"

You heard him wince, he seemed to hesitate, but in the end, he did admit it. "...Yeah."

You've thought of it, long and hard. You've made peace with that fact, but even then, it still hurts. But it hurts less than before, so it was really "Okay."

Silence. The humming of the heater behind you two. The cannabis is waving left and right. A barn owl screeching somewhere. The subtle slide of the cotton fabric against varnished wood.

"... You're not mad?" Stan asked, a crack in his voice.

"I mean, I'm pissed off." You scowled, before sighing and pressing your hands onto your eyes, "But that's both your decision, not mine."

"...I feel really bad doing that." It can be heard, from the shaking in his hushed syllables.

You shook your head, "Don't be."

He cleared his throat, "You don't understand. I know how much you loved her, but I just... really missed her."

His confession made you think deeply. Made you wonder in the bay of your ravaging thoughts once again. Yet somehow, you can't make sense of it. It's like you're staring out in the opaque darkness of your mind but only seeing yourself as an answer.

You don't want to be a pillar right now. You just want to break down.

But breaking down isn't you anymore. You've, well, you've passed through that stage. It's redundant, and unprogressive if you have to come back to it.

So you put your big kid pants on and do what most adults are used to doing. Pretend, once again.

"I actually understand." You told him, a lie mostly. But you don't know if Stan's keen enough to catch it.

You did catch onto something in his panicking voice though, a while ago. It's loud and clear for you, and maybe that's the reason why you suddenly feel so conflicted and hurt.

"From the sound of it, you still miss her." You told him.

"Yeah..." he whispered, not a second hesitant, "I don't miss getting stressed but..."

"Her smiles." You chuckled, and he followed after you.

"Yeah, her smiles."

You exhaled sharply through your nose, sitting straight in your seat but still keeping your eyes closed.

You don't want to be in the way of their happiness, even if it meant feeling like Sparky - betrayed, depressed, but still kept on going with life.

"Then you go get that perfect babe for us, man." You laughed, a bit satisfied that you finally got that out of your chest.

"Hm," Stan sounded unsure, "You're just saying that but you'll get mad."

You cracked an eye open and glance at him. "I'm not that vindictive. I'm not your dad. I'm not her."

When your sight focused, the first thing you saw was Stan smiling at you softly. It made you reel back, embarrassed, that you had to look away once again.

It's a look that's too friendly.

"You know, that's what I like about you." Stan admitted, and maybe it's your tired mind but he almost sounds endearing, "You're not afraid on being honest with me, in a way that doesn't really piss me off." He sighed, and you can hear him scratch the back of his head. "I've... Never felt that. Maybe with Kyle sometimes, but you do it every time. Kinda weird, but I'm kinda happy we're friends."

Your chest suddenly hurts, but you pushed it down. His delivery sounded too sweet, too meaningful, you're suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

You opted to just laugh at his sentiments instead, hoping to get the pressure in your throat out.

"I still dance around the subject." You joked, and he chuckled.

"Like you said, it's more fun to dance on a pole with red flags than with a green flag." Stan recited and it amused you that he even remembers that.

"Flashier that way." You ended for him.

Stan half-smiles at you. "It's a really dumb point of view but it works."

"You're dumb." You argued.

"No, you."

"Asshole, I'm not coming tomorrow." You skittishly threatened, and he scoffed with a knowing smirk.

"Then you better say goodbye to my Stan Special Coffee forever."

What a weak argument. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at him, "That's just Tweak Bro's Arabica man, I know my coffee."

"Goddamnit," Stan curses, and you laughed, patting his shoulder. "But you'll still come?"

"No." You admitted, giving him a reassuring smile. "I still need to like, process your confession to me."

His grin faltered, and again, you saw his eyes shining guiltily, darkly. He blinked, shaking his head as he lets out a nervous sigh.

"We're still... We're still going to be friends, right?" He asked, making sure, and you nodded at him patiently.

"We're still going to be friends," you promised him, and he put his hand above yours, gripping it with a grateful smile.

"You're so cool." He finds himself laughing at the end of it because the both of you know what you two are thinking: it's fucking gay.

"No homo, alright? No homo." He claimed, and you grinned.

"I know."

Stan looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't, instead, he just grabbed your wrist and made you slap yourself.

"Real fucking mature, Stan." You groaned as he laughed hard until his dad screamed for him to shut the fuck up, Stanley, it's fucking three in the fucking morning you son of a bitch- I meant beautiful bitch.

"So I heard from Kyle, who heard this from Kenny, who got the tea from Turner, whose mom overheard your mom talking to her friends that your family is staying in Iowa this summer." Stan greeted you as you fixed the inside of your locker.

It amused you because wow, that was a fucking mouthful.

"Good morning to you too, Stan."

"When are you coming back from Iowa?" He asked, pouting at you and leaning on the locker beside yours with crossed arms.

You don't put your attention on him as you pick up more of your things to put in your eco bag. "Dunno. Maybe a week before school starts."

"But we had plans to go to this skiing resort for summer, remember? I even saved half of my allowance just to pay you a spot with the family." He whined, making you roll your eyes at how childish he was acting.

"I thought that was just a late-night talk," like how he promised to throw this super awesome barn party once he officially becomes team captain and feed Sparky a bucket full of chicken wings if you win against Kyle on chess. (You did, but Sparky never got that bucket full of chicken wings. Kyle threatened Stan that if he celebrated his loss, he won't ever let Marsh copy off him ever again.)

Stan narrowed his eyes, grimacing. "Hey, if I know I can do something and didn't forget about it, I'm still gonna make it a reality."

You gave him an apologetic smile that isn't so apologetic at all, "Well, it's about time you spend that with your SBF or whatever that acronym is,"

Stan corrected you, "Super Best Friend." Sounds super gay. But okay.

"Look, don't you feel bad for Kyle?" You asked Stan, closing your locker. "He keeps getting smug at me whenever you pay attention to him. That dude is like your Sparky but human version. He, too, needs whole lots of TLC and attention."

Stan slowly blinked at you, before flicking your forehead. "Are you telling me to make Kyle my bitch?"

You bit down your laugh, "That's something I'd like to see."

Stan grinned, "You and Kenny both."

He took the heavy eco-bag in your hand, testing its weight. "You going to the library?" He asked.

"Where else should I spend my last hours of school?" You questioned, amused.

"Maybe watch me and the guys play?" He suggested, and you instantly coiled away from the idea.

"No thanks. I don't want to see Donovan shirtless again." He doesn't even have enough muscles to call his fat defined. You like his confidence, but there is a thing about too much confidence.

Stan shook his head with a little chuckle, "He always finds a way to get shirtless."

"Ask Testaburgers to ban being shirtless." You prompted, and Stan grinned, "You might as well just tell Clyde not to breathe."

"Good." You nodded, making Stan laugh, "One less hot person to worry about."

Your companion stopped walking, and you looked over your shoulder. He's giving you a judging stare, but its effect only makes you huff and roll your eyes.

"No way, you really think Clyde's hot?" Stan asked, flabbergasted.

"I think a lot of people are hot." You explained, cutting through a corner. He jogged to catch up with you.

"Now I'm wondering why you're hanging out with me instead of Kenny." He stated, a bit reactively. A little jealous too.

He doesn't have a good reason to be. You don't hang out with the blond. Stan can have Kenny all to himself.

"You don't flirt at me and make obscene BJ jokes." You quipped with a huff.

Stan realized that, before chucking out another entertained boyish grin. "Okay, fair enough."

The both of you gave each other a fist bump on the chest when he left you in the library. Stan, again, looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

"Good luck on the roll call, alright?" You assured, and he grinned brightly, "yeah, thanks."

You stomped on the brake hard and you glared at the sweating jock who jumped in front of your car. A gaggle of his friends hollered and cheered at him, making you see nothing but red as you feel your blood climbing up your head.

You opened your door and screamed at Stan, "What the fuck, man!"

Your anger instantly dissipated into question when Stan grinned at you widely with his arms spread wide.

"Dude! I'm team cap!" He cheered, raising his fist back to his team and they whistled and shouted for him like his personal cheer team.

You let out a very long-winded sigh as you leaned on your car, massaging the area between your eyebrows.

Shouldn't you be telling the news to Testaburgers? You wanted to snap, but before you could lecture him about what he's done, you got squeezed.

Stan had his arms tight around you, making you feel embarrassed, annoyed, and flattered in this cocktail mix of weirdness you are feeling.

"Ew, Stan, you're sweating." You complained, trying to pull and wiggle away from him.

"Don't care. Too happy." He chuckled softly, before letting you go with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, I saw your car and I just wanted to tell you the news before you go."

You dried the spot on your cheek, where his sweaty forehead was before, and looked at him with a tired expression. "You could've just texted it to me."

He stared at you like he didn't consider that, before laughing at his mistake. "Let's hang again, my place? Celebration with Kenny and Kyle. My dad gonna bring home some Shakey's." He invited, but the look you gave him made his grin fall.

"I'm packing for the trip." You explained, and he nodded, a bit sluggishly.

"...That's cool, I'll ask Kyle to drive me and drop some food at your place?" He offered, and it made you feel a bit happy that he'd be willing to do that, but you don't want Kyle's ire so...

You smiled, patting his arm. "Nah, thanks tho."

Stan gave you another childish pout, leaning on your car with his arms crossed. "I'm still mad at you for not telling me about Iowa."

You huffed, before opening your arms and offering him an apology hug. Stan didn't think twice about grabbing your arms and pulling you towards him. You let out a soft 'oof' when your cheek got pressed to his pecs, and you tried not to marvel at how they feel like boobs, but firmer.

So, you awkwardly pat his back, hoping to get your grabby and curious hands distracted. "Sorry, dude."

Stan hummed, before letting you go with a heavy pat on your shoulder.

"Try to have fun there. Take home some souvenirs for us." He grinned, watching you dry your cheek again. "I'll make sure to get those keychain beer openers for you."

You laughed at his thoughtfulness as you get into your car. "Yeah, sure. I'll bring home some of my handmade mugs then."

Stan brightened up, stopping you from closing your door. "Yo! Can you make a bowl for Sparky?"

You nodded, giving him a fist bump that he double-pounded in excitement. "No promises, but I'll try. Oh, and Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't bring my phone in Iowa."

Stan's eyes widened. "How can we chat-"

You drove away, laughing at how absurd he sounded screaming for your name.

He did come by your house that night with Kyle, offering your family a box of Shakey's pizza. Your dad's a fan of his, and your mom kept asking you questions if you were dating one of those fine gentlemen. A little bit too loudly.

Kyle gave you a look of disgust, which you offered back. Stan also left a Hummel Figurine for you to give to your grandparents. You feel embarrassed about his generosity, but he told you it's okay.

So you swore you'd come back with the best mugs you can make from your grandparents' clay studio.

An act of petty revenge. Expensive, but a good enough revenge.

Summer was long, but it was refreshing. You've got nothing to worry about but family, and while your grandparents talked your ears off about your earlier habit of sleeping around, they sympathized with your pain more than your parents would.

They're obsessed with the Hummel Stan gave. They also helped you to make mugs for him in return.

By the end of summer, you got a box full of 'em, as well as three different bowls for Sparky.

The sky was a mix of cottony pink, swirled orange, and distant dark blue when your family came back home to South Park.

You were helping your parents unload your luggage from the car when someone wrapped their arms around your stomach and pulled you into a locked embrace.

For a second, you really thought you're gonna get kidnapped. But you recognized Sparky's dog shampoo and the unmistakable scent of Stan's morning aftershave.

Your pounding heart wouldn't calm, even when you know it's just him.

You slapped the back of his head, and he lets you go with a laugh. He's wearing his dad's hemp shirt and the green cow's grey P.E pants, and from the towel around his neck, you guessed he was jogging.

"That wasn't cool of you, Stan. What if I had a heart attack?" You complained, shoving him playfully.

"You'd die, I guess?" Stan replied casually, and you raised your eyebrows at how deep his voice have gotten over the summer. Though you didn't mention it, only dried your face from the sweat of his temple once again.

"And why do you always hug me when you're sweaty as fuck." You questioned, grabbing the bags you dropped, and Stan helped you with a smirk, "mostly because I know you hate it."

His eyes lit up when he saw your mom and dad come out of the house, their faces brightening up at seeing Stan, "Hey Mr. and Mrs. (Last Name)!"

"We already told you just to call us dad and mom." Your mother greeted tiredly, and you gave her a disapproving look. "(Name), cut the attitude and show Marsh where his souvenirs are."

Stan glanced at you with a smug grin, "Souvenirs, huh."

"Yeah, you voodooed my grandparents with that figurine of yours, you freak." You rolled your eyes, putting some of the bags by the staircase and Stan followed you into the kitchen. Two boxes are sitting unassumingly on the kitchen counter.

"I don't know why, but that crap always sells with the oldies, even at Shady Acres." He chuckled, watching you open one of the boxes as he gawked at the square mugs covered in newspapers.

"...All of these are for me?" He asked you, making sure as he grabbed one from the sectioned box and studied the brown mug after taking the crumpled paper off it.

"I wasn't kidding when I said you bewitched my grandparents." You explained, proud of their craftsmanship.

"These mugs got to costs a lot. I mean, just look at the quality." He marveled, grinning at the feel of it.

"Yeah, it's fire clay and handmade." You mused, ignoring the buggy-eyed stare Stan gave you, "We can give some to Kyle and Kenny." You turned to the smaller box and opened it easily. "Sparky also has, not one, but three different bowls-"

Stan hugged you tightly again, making you gag at him as you two laughed at each other. "Dude, I was just kidding about the souvenirs!" He grinned, squeezing your arms. "You really didn't have to,"

"Does that mean you didn't bring me any souvenirs?" You joked, finally comfortable enough to put your arms around his back, making him laugh.

"To be fair, I also bought you too many key chains from the skiing resort."

"Wow, varieties," you teased, and he tapped your forehead with his index finger. "You're one to talk." He gestured at the before giving you a goading smile, "Mine's got different designs, I'll show you once we get back at the farm."

"Yeah, yeah," You shook your head, amused. Your smile felt easy and permanent on your face. Stan's grin softened, and his pupils dilated happily under the LED haze of the kitchen light. "Sparky misses you a lot." He shared as you took his towel around his neck and dried his face for him.

"Yeah, I missed him too," you shared back. Stan's hands tightened on your arms.

"I missed you too." He admitted, voice hushed. A tender glint in his eyes.

Your own widened a fraction. "I, uh, I-" You stammered, looking away as you try to shake off the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"Yeah, same, dude." You replied lamely, and he just snorted-laughed at your flustered reply.

It was at that moment, that your parents entered and saw you two looking not-friends-at-all from the living room.

"You can invite your boyfriend for breakfast, (Name)." Your mom teased, making you push Stan away from you and glared at her, respectfully.

"He's not my boyfriend. He's a miserable company." You corrected, and your dad huffed in amusement with your mother rolling her eyes in cheeky disbelief.

"I'd like to join you guys, if you'll have me," Stan invited himself, sneaking a smug look at you.

"Fine, but you got to help carry the bags up." You sneered, and he shrugged. "Fine by me, it's exercise. A thing some of us do," he jested, making you push him off the kitchen.

Stan helped out your mom with bringing the luggage upstairs, and as he talked to your mom, your dad scooted close to you, a hand around his mouth.

"Wendy Testaburgers then Stan Marsh? How did you end up dating popular kids when you're so lame? Who's next? Gerald's boy? Stuart's kid?"

You grimaced at your father, not finding his statement funny. "Wow dad, thank you for the vote of confidence. Thank you so much for believing I can take those two home. Thank you so much for everything," you sarcastically replied.

"Welcome." He remarked smoothly, but he looks like he was expecting more explanation. You sighed, running your hand in your hair.

"For the record, I'm not dating Stan. He's dating Testaburgers by now, I think." You dismissed, tugging on your scalp.

You don't know why that tasted bitter on your tongue. You're pretty sure you've already accepted them getting back together, but it still feels heavy on you.

Your dad put his hand on his mouth, looking at you with a wince. "Wow." He hissed, "You are so lame, (Name)"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, you were a fucking Star Trek nerd, dad." At the mention of his past, your dad picked up his luggage and narrowed his eyes at you.

"I was cool before it was cool." He defended, and you gave up trying to fight off his delusion. Stan quickly jogged back downstairs, he had a roguish smirk that made you scoff.

"So... I heard your dad talking smack to you."

You shoo off his teasing tune, "It's a normal thing."

"My dad does the same." He consoled, and you looked at him with a wary smile.

"I still can't believe your dad would do that." You reached up, rubbing a strand of his hair between your fingers. "You're basically the stereotypical high school jock crush, minus being blond."

"So was my dad." Stan grinned, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. "Except, he was in a boy band."

"Pussy occupation." You spouted before you realized what you meant.

"Such a pussy occupation." Stan agreed with a chuckle.

Later that day, you and Stan are hanging out at Nueva Familia, sharing a plate of enchiladas while enjoying your can of Coca-Cola. You two were talking about your summer adventures and laughed at the ridiculous things he did with Kyle.

Apparently, all the cheerleading girls were at the same skiing resort his family went to. Kyle asked Nichole Daniels out but he ended up getting rejected because Tolkien Black was also there. He literally sang and danced her away from the lobby.

Kyle wasn't so heartbroken because he got comforted by Heidi Turner. The two are dating now, making you agree with the relationship because Heidi loves using Instagram, and Kyle too, even if he doesn't want to admit it. They're both academically competitive and have a taste of hatred for Cartman.

It's a good match.

Stan admitted that he didn't ask Testaburgers out, seeing that he already missed his chance. As it turns out, she's dating Bebe Stevens. He had to see the big reveal after he bought her favorite chocolate and an expensive set of highlighters that ended up on Kyle's desk.

"Stevens and Testaburgers? That's hot," You whispered, but Stan caught it with a grin, "It is hot. I never thought seeing two attractive girls just kiss can be hot, but there they were, in the public hot spring. In their bikinis, doing their things." You're vibing with his simp energy.

"Please tell me you took pictures," you teased, and he kicked your leg under the table with a playful stern expression, "You're the one who taught me ethics, don't be a hypocrite now."

"But hey, at least you're not crying like a baby about not getting Testaburgers." You changed the topic smoothly, congratulating him in a way.

Stan blinked, processing what you mean, and when he did, his eyes lit up and curled around the edges.

"Huh. You're right." He smiled widely, offering you his fist, "Glad to see your smart ass back in South Park."

You bumped your knuckles against his, laughing at his nickname, "Same to you, ugly mug."