Yo, so my first South Park fanfiction - I'm totally in the dark about how this is going to be recieved!

I must thank my awsome Beta MariePierre before I start.

Please enjoy!


He really needed to stop staring, biting his chapped lips the redheaded boy watched his dark haired classmate sitting in front of him. His hair was shining in the light, swept back into comfortable teen style. It was a natural dark raven colour, and it never seemed to get greasy, no matter how often he washed it. He grinned dreamily, stopping himself from letting out a very girly sigh. He hadn't been paying attention at all in his English Lit class. It was the only class that he was taking that wasn't AP; an issue that the smart Jew was getting increasingly frustrated about—how could he speak two EU languages effortlessly, but couldn't cope with his own?

Then something smacked him in the head; wincing, the red-head turned around and glowered at the innocent blond boy sitting behind him. His sky blue eyes flickered to his, before returning to the board and scribbling down the notes on the play that they were studying.Twelfth Night, how thrilling. The red-head scowled at the mocking pages, wondering why they couldn't have studied another play for their finals, not just the one that made a fool out of men - and women—alike, and (he felt) was one of the least entertaining pieces that the god of plays had ever written. His emerald green eyes wavered back to the pretty boy sitting next to him.

Leopold Stotch—or Butters—as his friends preferred to call him.

The platinum haired boy should have really been in the AP English class, along with this friend Red. Don't forget the drama and music classes, the voice in his head reminded. Unfortunately his brilliant parents wanted him to do science; which—bless him—Butters was absolutely crapat. He'd been taking AP drama and music alongside his other subjects, hoping that his parents would finally take a hint. The red haired boy sighed and rested his chin on his hand, glancing out of the window at the snow covered ground. It was now December, and his finalfinals were drawing near; now only six short months . Some students had already begun to study, reviewing desperately through the pages of work they'd collected throughout the past months.

He paused his rambling thoughts, desperately trying to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, but it failed, as his eyes once again strayed to his super best friends' strong shoulders and neck. He bit his lip again in thought.

Perhaps taking Music and Theatre, basket ball and any other extra curricula's he could get his hands on, was a bit of a bad idea. Stress was already building within the school, with the added looming prospect of finding and applying for colleges (in South Park High ranging from Harvard School of Law to Liberal Arts colleges such as William's college), something was going to snap.

Thank goodness that the Christmas holidays were coming up.

"What's the significance of the letter Olivia writes to Malvolio? Mr. Broflovski," but the red headed boy wasn't paying attention as he was staring at the perfect form that was the back of his super best friends, Stan Marsh's head. He didn't register her voice until Butters jabbed him in the ribs.

Yelping he snapped to attention, flipping desperately through the pages of Twelfth Night, before grinning at Butters in relief as the elder teen passed him his notes, discreetly as he could, under the dark eyes of their English teacher Mrs. Scouch. "Are you even paying attention? Mr. Stotch you do not need to pass your friend your notes, I presume that he's done his own?"

Biting his bottom lip Kyle ducked his head in shame, ignoring the sniggers of his old friend the fat boy. "Maybe it's cause he's been staring at the other fags' ass; and I don't mean Leopold,"

"Mr. Cartman that is enough," the teacher snapped as most of the class laughed at his comment. The only ones that stayed silent were Kyle, his super best friend, and Butters. The laughter stopped and all the class turned to look, and wondered what the punishment was going to be to one of the smartest boys in the whole school. "I want to see your notes," the teacher demanded, holding out her hand. Swallowing, the teen handed out his notes, only the title of the play scrawled out in his neat hand writing.

The room was silent, and Kyle swore that he saw his teachers' eye twitch. Mrs Scouch never shouted, ever; but she was the type of person who was the deadliest when she was quiet. "Kyle Broflovski I want you out of my class—right now," there were no gasps of surprise, instead, they all listened and watched with bated breath. "If I ever see you in this classroom again I will personally request your suspension from this school," she didn't even bother handing him back his notes (the majority of which he'd copied from Butters anyway). Getting his stuff into his bag as quickly as possible the teen took one look at his super best friend—his eyes wide and confused. Blue met green—just for a second, and something flashed between them. Snapping out of his trance the teen departed hurriedly, almost tripping over his feet in his haste.

"Well, well, well," a leering voice taunted. Kyle sat on the steps leading to South Park High, trying to will away the tears stinging his cheeks; his appearance was dishevelled, hair sticking up and face bright red. He tried to ignore the goth kid that was ridiculing him. "Not in class Jew kid?" Kyle disregarded him, and pressed his face deeper into his arms. "Jew, I was talking to you!" the goth snapped, jerking him up by his ginger locks and pulling the boy face to face. The tears that were from humiliation quickly turned to pain.

"Hey Cutters!" a voice bellowed from the below them, the goth looked down and snarled.

"I was doing this fag a favour,"

"I thought you were pro fags," Kyle recognized his other best friend; Kenny McCormick.

"Listen you Justin-wannabe, I'm pro-death, and these assholes should burn in hell," Kyle cringed, that comment hurt him than he wanted to admit.

"Let my best friend go,"

"Aww, mad that your little boyfriend is hurt?"

"Dude, he's my best friend, not my boyfriend,"

"What you're upset cause you didn't get to fuck that little blond boy up against—" Kyle had enough he kicked the goth hard; who let him go gasping. With one look at the boy in the hoodie the ginger took off, running as fast as he could.

"Guys have you seen Kyle?" the dark haired boy asked, his bright blue eyes shining with worry. There were four of them seated around the table; Stan glanced questionably at his friends. Butters was fiddling with his food, pushing it around his plate. The second blond boy on the table was Tweek Tweak; he was clutching an empty cup of coffee and grinned in relief as his best friend Craig Tucker brought over a new cup, placing it into his awaiting hands.

"N-n-nope," Butters replied quietly, pushing his tray away from him. He folded his arms and rested his head on them. "Not s-s-since English,"

"I heard something happened, do you know?" Clyde asked in interest, biting into his sandwich.

"I don't really want to tell you," Butters replied, "It's for Kyle to tell," he pressed his face into his arms.

"That damn son of a bitch!" a boy wearing an orange hoodie stormed up to their table, dragging up a chair and slamming his back onto the floor, before bringing up his smashed lunch. Butters looked over at Kenny a bit surprised, but he smiled trying to lift his angered boyfriends' spirits.

"Kenny where's Kyle?" Stan asked determinedly. He was worried about Kyle after what had happened in English.

"I don't know," the boy snapped, as he pulled out his lunch. He relaxed slightly as Butters hand crept down to his thigh and started to rub relaxing slow circles to try and calm him. "I was talking to him before his AP French, but when the bell went left quickly. He was murmuring something about not getting his finals completed cause of English,"

Stan sighed; he was a bit miffed with his friend getting into trouble in a class that he should have been acing, what was wrong with him lately? He adored his best friend, but he was starting to get annoyed and concerned.

"He got kicked out of English and threatened with suspension," Butters blurted out. Craig raised an eyebrow, Tweek actually stopped twitching in surprise, and Stan glowered at this.

He wasn't surprised to see four sets of jaws drop around him, and Butters sank further into his seat, guilt surpassing his features. "Maybe I c-c-c-could have done s-somethin'," Kenny put a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Why, dude?" Clyde looked at him, his face taught with confusion as he glanced at the quivering blond.

"He was completely spaced out in English, he hadn't been writing any notes, and then," he swallowed and sucked in a breath, before bashing his knuckles together, his tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. "Oh Hamburgers. Ken, I could have stopped him from getting in trouble, I should have…" he trailed off, his head falling once again onto his now folded arms, silent sobs rocking his body. The other boys looked at each other in surprise. Without even thinking Kenny's arms slipped around his shoulders and rubbed his arm gently, pressing his face into his soft blond locks, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head, weaving his hands through his soft blond locks.

"I'm gonna get so grounded tonight," there was a little shiver, and Kenny's slipped his arms around his boyfriends waist and pulled him half onto his lap and let his head rest on his chest. Butters miniature breakdowns where happening more and more frequently, with the violence at home getting worse and the increasing workload, people didn't realize how bad the boy had it, but still didn't care about the blond boy.

"So how's the fag, the poor person and the spaz?" a deep voice boomed. It was their old friend turned jock, followed by his jock buddies. He loved having the stability of such a strong group.

"Fuck off Cartman," Stan sighed, now wasn't the time.

"Crying over your super best boyfriend, hippie. Or are you just realizing how lame your 'friends' are?" He made a face, as if he was sucking a invisible cock, and the boys standing around him. Stan ignored him, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the table.

There was a roar of laughter, and Cartman continued, "Have nothing to say hippie faggot? Too busy daydreaming about circle jerking with your fucking freaks for friends?" Stan tried to not fuel Cartman's jeering and remained silent. "No, I bet your just dying to fuck one of them, so who is it? The faggot kike? The Tweeker? The girly fag? The—"

Stan lost his cool and abruptly stood up slamming his hands on the table top.

"Fuck off Fat BOY!" he roared. "I don't give a flying fuck about you or your stupid bigoted attitude!" he was breathing hard, hands balled into fists at his side. The anger he had kept bottled up over Cartman finally seeping out. "So what if Butter's is gay, so what if Kenny's an attention whore? So what if Tweek needs several cups of coffee to keep himself sane over the day," he breathed deeply. "They're my friends, and Kyle is my super best friend, I don't care if it's gay, or faggoty, but it's fat fucks like yourself with the intolerance of a horny bull in a fucking china shop, that really piss me off." the teen looked at his old friend surprised. Stan's voice suddenly dropped to a dangerous whisper. "And if you ever make my super best friend lose his faith in anything, I will personally make your miserable excuse for life a living hell,"

Kyle took a bite of chicken, trying to fight the feeling of indifference to hunger, it didn't work. He still had a slight headache and his eyes were sore from the crying he'd done in the near abandoned third floor girls bathroom.

"Kyle honey," Shelia's voice was gentle, sensing something wasn't right with her son.

"Sorry mom, I didn't have a great day at school" he pushed the chair back. "I don't have an appetite,"

"It's alright honey," she said softly. Ike sent him a weird look, wondering what eating Kyle.

"Can I go out for a walk? I need to clear my head." Glancing up at the clock his mother checked the time.

"As long as you wear a warm coat and take your phone," she reminded gently. He smiled at her weakly while nodding. As he left the table, the teen took his old parka and threw on his hat. Grabbing his phone and stuffing it into his pocket, he opened the door and stepped out into the snow.

It was cold; he shoved his hands into his deep pockets the red-head scuffed the half melted snow across the pavement. His feet took him through his normal route past the numerous shops and out across to the old pond where they used to hang out. A smile passed his lips as he sat down on his favourite old rock, not really caring that the hard granite was starting to freeze his backside. Taking a rock he tossed it up and down in his hand before tossing it to the other. The cold bit at his exposed skin, and he shivered slightly. Anger boiled up again in his chest, the shame amplified everything, and he felt as though it would all boil over. He sighed, and clutched the small grey stone in his palm.

He felt a buzzing in his pocket; taking out the phone he saw it was text, he felt himself smile as he saw it was from Stan.

Hey bro, cn i cme over?

Rolling his eyes at the lack of grammar his friends' texts he replied. Hey man, at Starks Pond fuckin' freezin'.

It was a couple of minutes before the next text was received.

K, want me 2 brng a couple of shitty bags of fd and a sleepin bag?

He grinned in reply. Sounds awesome, up at the old tree house where we hung out?

The text was almost immediate. Totally.

It was about fifteen minutes before he heard footsteps crushing the snowflakes underneath a certain pair of feet. Stan really wasn't a subtle guy, and he managed to make his presence known to all who were out there.

"Dude it's so fucking cold out here!" Kyle smiled as he heard his super best friends' voice, he felt a warm blanket being draped around him and a particularly warm body pressed up against his. Sighing gently he leaned back into the warmth.

He was sure he felt a pair of lips brush against his forehead.

There was a rush of cold air as the dark haired teen moved over to the couple of bags he was carrying. He swiftly pulled out three flasks. Raising an eyebrow Kyle gave Stan a sideways look. Stan rolled his eyes, before pouring a cup of something warm and steamy out of one of the flasks. "Mom knew I was goin' out to Starks Pond, and before I could refuse she defrosted this out the freezer. It's some of her stew; beef's cool with you isn't it?"

Smiling slightly Kyle sipped at the warm beverage, humming in contentment as the warm soup filled his belly. The two were huddled together, watching as the minute snow crystals danced over Starks Pond. They were feeling comfortably warm even though they were in below freezing temperatures.

"Can I have some more Sir?" Kyle tilted his head and fluttered his eyelashes, holding his cup up towards his friend with a typical Oliver Twist look.

"No," Stan replied, although there was a grin forming across his features.

"STAN!" he reached over and tried to grab the soup from his laughing friend, a tussle started in which Kyle ended up sprawled over his best friend. Swallowing he looked down at the raven haired boy and licked his lips.

"What you're gonna attack me in the park now?" he grinned, loosening the tension with a quirked eyebrow. Kyle's smile matched his and his hands crept down to his ribs, loving the way that his best friends' eyes widened comically as he shied away from the onslaught of the hands. "No Kyle!" he gasped, as the warm blanket covering them came off and they tussled in the snow, Kyle's hands skittered over his super best friends' ribcage and couldn't help but laugh at Stan's desperate attempts to thwart his assault, but laughing so hard in the process that the counter attack was useless. "Kyle!" the last bit came out as a shout, but it was a playful begging voice that was desperate for him to stop. Finally Stan's lukewarm hands caught his wrists and held them in the strong grip that he'd developed from being a football fanatic all these years. "If you get off I'll give you some more of my moms' stew?"


Stan grinned, and looked up at him with the most adorable pout that he could muster. "Yes sir,"

"Alright," wiggling Kyle slipped off him, and reached out for the container, but not before Stan grabbed it and shot off up the snowy mountainside, cackling all the way.

"Damn you STAN!" Kyle roared, a smile still plastered on his face.

"Christ you look like shit," Kenny, ever polite Kenny, commented as his good friend Kyle stumbled into the classroom the next morning. There were light bags underneath his eyes, but a worn smile on his face none the less.

"Stan decided to run up the fucking mountain last night, I then forgot to do the Chem AP paper that I had left to last night, I didn't get to bed till gone six," he stifled a yawn and sat as his desk.

His orange clad friend raised an eyebrow, wondering what Stan and Kyle were doing up the mountain side in the early hours of the morning. If they had finally shagged, Craig owed him a twenty; as did most of the other lads in their friend circle. Kyle was usually a morning person, and didn't really swear if it about his super best friend.

Well unless fat boy was involved. Then he'd use words that would cause a Nun to commit suicide.

"Well hello my sunshine!" it was Stan Marsh, and he threw a playful arm across Kyle's shoulders. The red-head in question glowered at his super best friend. Stan raised his dark eyebrows. "What's with you?"

"You know how we didn't get back 'til two last night?"


"Well I forgot I'd left an AP Chem paper and I didn't get to bed 'til gone six,"

Stan's face fell. "Aww dude I'm sorry," by his tone Kyle could tell he was sincere.

Kyle gave him a small smile; showing everything was forgiven. The moment was broken by Kenny who laughed, and shook his head. "Christ it's like being in a Brokeback Mountain remake,"

Stan leaned over and smacked him on the upside of the head, but (Kenny noticed) pulled Kyle a little tighter towards him. The blond boy didn't know if he was making a point, or was doing it automatically. The door suddenly opened and there were two girly voices. At that moment Stan pointedly let go of Kyle (to which Kyle looked rather down hearted) and turned to his girlfriend.

Yes Stan Marsh the quarterback managed to bag himself one of the hottest girls in school (unless it was Butters wearing a dress; but who was Kenny to judge?). Today her long black hair fell down her shoulders, bringing out her dove grey eyes, and flawless skin. The pink jumper she was wearing flattered her curves and tucked her in at all the right places, and the short skirt showed off more leg than was probably legal.

"Hey babe," Stan gave her a disarming grin, and shot a smile over at her blond best friend Bebe.

"Hey Stan," she leaned up and pressed a kiss on his lips; Kenny childishly stuck out his tongue and pulled a rude hand jester, bringing a smile to Kyle's face. Kyle always wished that he never felt slightly sick at the showers of affection the pair gave each other.

"Dude I'm trying to keep down the little breakfast I had today," came Kenny's complaining voice, but it had a light playful tone to it. The couple broke away, and Wendy smiled apologetically towards Kenny, who rolled his eyes and flipped her off.

"Y'know, you might want to take a leaf out of Craig's book and learn to get the timings right," she shot back, Kyle saw Kenny smirk underneath his hood, and in one fluid motion he leaned over and slapped her ass.

She shrieked in surprise, her face bursting into colour before snarling at Kenny and stomping to her seat in the homeroom. Kenny couldn't help but snigger with laughter, and before long had Craig and Token sniggering along as well. Stan raised his eyebrows, not saying anything, knowing that Kenny was just being Kenny and there was nothing that he could do to stop it. Wendy shot him a why-didn't-you-stop-it glare, and he shrugged helplessly back.

"Alright class, settle down," the sound of their teachers grating voice silenced the students and they settled down into their separate desks. Kyle glanced around, for the first time realizing that Butters wasn't present, discreetly as he could he leaned over to Kenny.

"Ken, Butters isn't here,"

His friends' eyes widened, and he swore under his breath. "Oh, fuck," he glanced over to Kyle, fear written on his face. "You don't think his dad's locked him in the store cupboard again?"

"I don't know," Kyle bit his lip in worry, "If he doesn't come in after break we're going and getting him, even if all hell breaks loose."

Kenny nodded, about to reply, when their homeroom teacher cut across them. "Would you like to share what you want to say with the class?" her slightly annoyed voice asked. Miss Kicks was all right, probably one of the best teachers they'd had the pleasure of teaching them; she was the perfect homeroom teacher.

"No miss," her eyebrow rose in question, but didn't say anything, and started to take the register, still shooting each other worried glances, wondering where the hell was Butters?

Authors note:

Hey I'm just branching off the normal path, although I'm not new to writing Slash, I'm completely new to writing Style and Bunny. This is my first South Park fanfiction, so please be nice!

I would also like to say again, thank's to the awsomeness of MariePierre, who helped beta this and get it up and running! Go check out her Style fanifics, cause they totally inspired this!

Hope you enjoyed, and as always, reviews and critique are loved by all (but especially me!).