A Note From Ben: Okay, here's the story with this one. I've had a bit of a falling out with my good friend and partner in insanity, Flabz. That has delayed this story a bit, since I really didn't want to write without her. Since said incident, she's been busy doing her thing and I've been busy doing mine. On top of that, most of the chat logs that had dialogue, discussions, and such have been lost, so it fell upon me to make a decision. Do I continue this story and just make a bunch of stuff up or do I write everyone an apology and delete it?

Well, you might be glad to know there will be no deletions. I've come to the conclusion that the best thing to do is push forward. After spending so much time with Flabz, I've got a pretty good idea of how she likes things done, and whenever I'm in doubt, I can look at the original story and make a decision based on what I see there. If there is anything in this story that does not meet your expectations, please accept my apologies. This time, I'm flying solo.

Chapter One - Morning Delight

Stan Marsh was immediately aware of three things upon waking. First, his alarm clock had somehow become unplugged in the night, and the midnight hour was blinking steadily. That meant that he had probably slept in, which in turn meant his parents were going to be pissed at him. One of the terms they had given him for continuing to live in the house after high school was to be up no later than 8:00 every morning to go look for a job. He didn't think they'd throw him out onto the sidewalk for an incident like this, but he'd still get a good ass-chewing, and that was not something he was looking forward to.

Second, there was someone snuggled up against him, and there was an arm around him. As wonderful as it felt to have Kyle holding him like that, one of the conditions he'd been given for KYLE staying in the house was that he must stay in his own room. His parents had been more than happy to take the guy in and help him get away from his abusive parents and his bed of greasy rags in the garage, but they made it quite clear that they were NOT to share a bed at ANY time. Stan's parents were, after all, Roman Catholic and rather conservative in their views. They didn't mind their son being gay, and they loved Kyle to death, but there were certain things they just didn't want done in the house.

Stan looked down at him with an affectionate grin. Kyle could be cute without even trying. Like right now for instance, snuggled up against him, his mouth partially opened and his nose twitching. There was something about it that just made Stan melt inside.

"Every time I look at you," he whispered, "I fall in love all over again.'

He knew he should wake Kyle up and get him back to his own room before his parents caught them, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The moment was so precious he felt it would be almost sinful to intentionally bring it to an end. Besides, it was probably so late that his parents were already at work, and if that was the case they had already stopped to check in on him before leaving, and thus they'd already been caught. Therefore, in his mind, it was best to just to lay here and enjoy the beauty of it while it lasted.

He thought back briefly on the night before and all that had transpired. He had proposed to Kyle and they had made sweet love there in the grass. It had been his first time with anyone, and it had been absolutely incredible. In all the times he'd wondered over the course of his adolesence about what it would be like when he finally lost his virginity, he'd never imagined it would be like that. It was actually indescribable. He had felt like some sort of man-god, thrusting into Kyle over and over again, causing his love to moan and cry his name repeatedly.

"God, Stan! Yes!"

He felt a stirring in his groin and had to banish the memory. Oh, Lord, what if Kyle woke up and caught him laying there with a hard on? Stan didn't think he'd freak out or anything, but he knew that Kyle was still pretty delicate. He'd been through what could only be described as a living hell. All the years of beatings by his parents, followed by mockery by his brother, followed by forced sex by someone he'd once considered to be a good friend. Put that song on repeat for the better part of a decade and see how reserved you are at the end of it.

I just don't want to do anything to make him uncomfortable.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to think of everything unsexy that he possibly could. The time when he was ten that he accidentally saw Shelley's vagina. Hernia checks. Wendy giggling as Token made his pecks dance. Cartman naked. Cartman naked. Cartman naked.

"Cartman naked?" he heard Kyle repeat. "Oh, come on. There's unsexy and then there's just downright nasty."

Stan's eyes shot open. Had he been thinking out loud? Christ, he had, hadn't he? That meant that Kyle had probably heard everything, even about seeing Shelley's vagina. A quick look at the amusement in Kyle's eyes told him that this was so, and he felt his face redden.

"Aww," Kyle cooed, rolling over on top of him and looking down at him. "Is my Stanny having a bad day already?"

"Not having a bad day," Stan mumbled, turning his head away.

"Don't be like that," Kyle purred, leaning down and kissing him gently on the cheek. When this only brought a slight smile to Stan's face, he reached down and gently turned his face back in the proper direction, then planted a kiss on him that took Stan's breath away. Stan immediately reached up and wrapped his arms around Kyle's neck, drawing him in and deepening the kiss. "Mmm," Kyle moaned. "That's better."

"I thought you were supposed to sleep in your own room?" Stan teased, running his fingers through the curls on the back of Kyle's head.

"There was a monster in my closet?" Kyle suggested with a grin.

Stan laughed and swatted at him with a pillow. Kyle squealed in surprise and snatched up the matching pillow in defense. Within seconds, they were behaving like a couple of preteens at a slumber party, bashing each other with the bedding and calling each other out

(is that all you got)

in voices that were far too loud. Sparky, alarmed by this commotion, got up from his spot at the foot of the bed and sauntered indignantly from the room. He stopped only to give them a scolding look-- "Grow up", it said-- and a harumph of disgust. One thing Sparky had never been was playful. He was okay with the occasional tummy rub, and he had enjoyed playing "Red Rocket" when Stan was a kid (though Stan hadn't understood at the time he was stimulating his four-legged friend), but that was the extent of his playfulness. Pillow fights and roughhousing were not his cup of chowder.

Stan let his gaze upon the dog linger for a second too long, and he paid the price for it when he felt the pillow Kyle was holding bash him in the side of the head.

"GAH!" he cried in surprise. "Kyle, what the fuck?"

"You never called time-outsies," Kyle replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that Stan had never seen before. This made Stan laugh again, this time until his eyes watered.

"All right," he said, "I'm calling time-outsies now. How about breakfast?"

"I..."

Kyle was cut off by a tone from Stan's computer. Stan knew immediately that it was his email alert and he had a sinking feeling it was his mother, sending him a message from her desk at Tom's Rhinoplasty telling him to get his ass up and look for a damn job. He turned on the power to his monitor with a ball of lead in his gut and was relieved to see it was not from his mother at all.

TO: STANTHEMAN
FROM: GHARRISONJR
SUBJ: RE: ZERO

Stan:
It was good to hear from you. I'm glad to know that everything worked out for
you and Kyle. I'll definitely check into that thing you asked me to research, but
I think I'd be a pretty poor friend if I didn't at least try to talk you out of this.
Sometimes it's better to let sleeping dogs lie, ya know? I mean, the two of you
have a golden opportunity here. You could have died in that loft, but you lived
through it. You've got friends in Cosmic places, Stan, and they granted you a
genuine miracle by letting you live to experience your happily ever after. Is it
really worth throwing that away for some answers you don't really need?

In any case, I'll do some searching. Every criminal leaves a paper trail some-
where. It might not be a paper trail that leads you to the person you're looking
for, but it might be enough to get you on the right track.

I'll get back to you when I find something.

Take care of yourselves.

-Gary Harrison

Kyle looked at the email in shock. He didn't even need to ask what Stan had been doing. It was clear enough from the response he got. He'd been fucking snooping around, trying to get some idea of who Zero was.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Kyle asked incredulously.

"Not crazy," Stan replied. "Just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," Kyle barked back, "and in our case, I don't think I have to tell you I don't mean that figuratively!"

"I think you're overreacting," Stan said, clicking the email off and pulling up Google. He intended to do a few checks of his own while Gary was off playing bloodhound.

"No, I'm NOT fucking overreacting!"

This caused Stan to stop and swivel around in his chair, eyes wide. He hadn't heard Kyle scream at him like that in a long time, and it was quite sobering to hear. He had frightened Kyle, frightened him to death.

"Kyle...."

"You think this is a fucking game, Stan?" Kyle demanded. "You think this is some fucking machine you pump quarters into at the arcade? Oops, sorry, game over. Insert another quarter to keep playing. Fuck that shit! We almost got killed! My brother did get killed! There's no way in hell I'm going to put in my pocket change to play through that nightmare again!"

With that, Kyle stomped out of the room, pissed as hell at Stan. More pissed, in fact, than he'd ever been at him.

"What could asking a few questions hurt?" Stan called down the hallway.

The only response he got was Kyle's bedroom door slamming.