On an unusually and particularly hot summer afternoon, in South Park, Colorado, sat two 16 year old boys in the bedroom of an ordinary suburban house. Kyle Broflovski's room and house, in fact.

The short and skinny Jew, aforementioned owner of the room, was lying on the floor, in front of his T.V. Fiery curls fell into his eyes, and in his hands was a videogame controller, which he was using to destroy the flesh-consuming zombies in a newly-bought videogame.

"This Left For Dead game kicks ass, huh?" the teen enthused.

"Mmmm."

Kyle glanced up at his super best friend from the floor, who at that particular moment in time was flipping through an old magazine, sprawled across the bed. His tongue stuck out a bit, only adding to the cuteness of the situation.

"And I guess you don't actually give a shit about what I'm saying, do you, Stan?"

"Mmmm."

Stanley Marsh; tall, good-looking, most sought-after guy in South Park Highschool and everything else Kyle was not. It would have made Kyle sick to his stomach had Stan not been his best friend-his SUPER best friend, the best he'd ever had and will have. Fact.

He sighed and tried again. "How 'bout I invite Kenny over? I'm sure killing zombies is much more fun than being killed yourself, and coming BACK as a zombie."

"Mmmm." Still no real reaction.

Kyle crawled over to his bed and peered at the magazine. Sports crap or something...how typically Stan. "Hey Stan? I'm gonna go ask Shelley out, that okay?" Kyle renewed his efforts to get his dark haired friend to talk to him properly. Alas, Stan obviously couldn't care less.

"Mmmm."

Goddammit...

"I'm gonna tell your mom she's a bigger whore than Mrs. Cartman."

"Mmmm."

"I'm gonna go get your dad's gun and kill some dolphins."

"Sure."

"Check my new tattoo, it says 'Stan's Gay for Craig.'"

"Okay."

"I'll tell Wendy you beat off to porn 'cause she's not giving you any."

"You do that."

Kyle slumped in defeat. Stan was just not budging at all.

He is honestly impossible. 'Boring afternoon ahead, with a 30 percent chance of suicidal intentions.' Reluctantly, he returned to his videogame.

A couple of minutes passed, without a word being said. The star quarterback flipped through his magazine while the A-student ginger pulverized zombies left, right and centre. Said ginger then hit the pause button on his controller, a second after beheading an ugly-as-sin member of the undead. Kyle wiped his sweaty forehead. Jesus, it's heating up. Even with that shitty, barely-moving fan on the highest it can go.

"Hey Stan, if you don't mind, I think I'll ditch my top. It's getting warm in here."

Kyle shifted into a kneeling position and squirmed his way out of his worn 'MC Dreidel' t-shirt. Free from its confinement, he tossed the piece of clothing at Stan and lay down again, not looking for a reaction but waiting to hear one...

...

...nothing.

Not a complaint. Nada. Huh...not even a 'Mmmm.'

Kyle sat up and turned to look at Stan once more. To his surprise, the blue-eyed teen was staring hard at the page in front of him, a very prominent blush spreading to his cheeks. He seemed to be holding his breath, and where there was once a relaxed, almost arrogant teenager, there was now a tense, red-faced boy. He was flustered because of a shirtless Kyle?

Kyle's surprise slowly turned to understanding, then flattery, then smug amusement. SO...Stanny-wanny's following the Way of the Gay, now, is he?

Kyle cleared his throat. "Stan?"

"Um, yeah?"

Kyle smirked and went on. "You've been staring at the same spot for over a minute."

Stan blushed a deeper shade of red and quickly turned the page. Even from his seat on the floor, Kyle could see his shaking hand-was this really how badly he affected him?

Kyle clambered onto the bed and rolled until he was lying next to his best friend, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. Stan immediately froze, and Kyle couldn't help but chuckle.

"You okay, Stan? What's wrong?"

Stan's eyes remained focused on the glossy pages before him as he murmured something unintelligible. Kyle sighed exasperatedly and yanked the magazine out of the jock's hands and tossed it onto the floor.

"Is it 'cos I took off my shirt? Why would that make you uncomfortable?"

Stan turned to stare at Kyle with wide eyes. He said nothing, just swallowed awkwardly.

Maybe I've gone far enough, I didn't want to terrify him, just make him admit that he's completely gay-for me.

"Fine, I'll put my shirt back on, if it'll make you happ-"

"You know what, you're right-it IS really hot in here," Stan interrupted unexpectedly. To Kyle's shock, he removed his shirt.

Stan resumed his position next to Kyle and continued reading, but not before he threw a glance at the red-head and gave what Kyle swore was a tiny smirk-almost daring him to take the next step and carry on with their little "game."

Kyle grinned; perhaps unbeknown to Stan, this game was about to get a lot more interesting.

He looked at his dark-haired and well-built opponent, who's own blue eyes stared back into his green ones. Only one thought ran through his mind.

Mmmm.