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STAN MUH - 9:40 AM
Hey. Meet me in the bathrooms by the quad. I need to talk with someone.
Stan Marsh leaned his head against the wall of the largest stall in the men's bathroom, watching his phone screen glow faintly in his face. Now all he had to do was wait.
God, he was so mad right now. Was mad the right word? He couldn't think of a better one, and din't feel like thinking too hard right now. He took out some rolling paper from his backpack, then decided he'd wait for his guest to appear. In the meantime, the noirette went back to leaning his head against the wall, letting himself be lost in his thoughts.
It wasn't long until he heard a door open and shut again, and a knock on one of the stall doors. Looking under the door briefly, he saw a pair of Doc Martens he knew well, swinging open the stall door with a flourish, paired with a bitter fake-smirk as he slammed the door shut behind him and turned to face Gregory.
Honestly, two years ago he would not have believed he could ever be friends with Gregory, but it was amazing what one highschool theater class could do. They'd managed to relate to eachother a lot, and Stan tended to look to Gregory for help a lot, especially as they became closer friends. Gregory was very helpful for when Stan did things such as this- hiding out in a bathroom stall and brooding because his girlfriend dumped him over stupid shit and Kyle would rather die than skip class. Of course, Stan helped Gregory out too with his problems, but the other boy was far more mentally stable than Stan usually was.
Now, the taller boy stood in front of him, one eyebrow quirked up, the beginnings of a blonde ponytail draped over one shoulder.
"So, what is it this time, Stanley?" He asked, leaning against one side of the wall with a slightly amused grin on his face. The noirette sighed.
"Wendy broke up with me."
"Again?"
"Yeah! For the stupidest shit this time, too!"
"Like...?" The blonde tilted his head, gold eyes focused on Stan. The shorter boy hesitated, momentarily caught on how piercing that gaze was, and then shook himself free and continued with a deep breath.
"She said she wouldn't get back together with me until I learned how to kiss better."
Gregory stifled a chuckle, but a moment too late, and Stan narrowed his eyes at the amused-looking blonde. "It's not funny! Who the fuck says that as their reason for wanting to break up with someone?"
"No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But, you have to admit, your girlfriend dumping you because she had enough of your awful kissing? That is quite a bit amusing."
Stan stuck his tongue out at Gregory, his face a light scowl. "Fuck you, man. It's not amusing."
"Alright. Calm down, you know I'm not teasing you out of malice." He sat down against the wall opposite Stan, his long legs occupying more of the space so the stall suddenly seemed a bit more crowded just because of them. "Did you bring any weed? Today's been rather stressful for me too, though your story seems much more upsetting than mine."
Stan chuckled. "Wow, just using me to get some free pot? Shame on you, Gregory Belrose." He rifled around in his bag for the rolling paper and weed he'd snuck from his dad's farm yet again, producing it in his hands a moment later. As he began rolling a blunt on the flat part of his backpack, he idly spoke, "So, you wanna talk about the bullshit in your day?"
Gregory seemed to shift a little, as though he hadn't been expecting to actually be asked about his own troubles, even though he'd been the one to talk about them in the first place. He looked at some random point in the wall, then looked down at the blunt-in-progress that Stan was still working on. "Oh, nothing, really. Theater production hasn't been going well."
Stan made a triumphant noise as he finally finished rolling the blunt, quickly holding his hand out for Gregory's lighter. The blonde handed it over without even thinking. "You seem less disturbed about this breakup with Wendy than I thought you'd be. You did drag me all the way out of class."
Stan laughed, taking a long hit from the blunt. "Ah, don't give me that shit, dude. I know you're always skipping Math anyways, I just made you migrate from Bathroom A to Bathroom B." His smile dropped as he passed the blunt to Gregory, who began puffing out smaller puffs of cloud, clearly more aware that someone might smell it outside the bathrooms. Stan shifted, eyes dulling a little. "I just had something to take my mind off it for a moment. It's still bullshit."
"Well, didn't you tell her that?"
"Yeah, kinda. I told her that was a stupid thing to dump me over, and she got all pissy. Like I was the one telling her to fuck off because she can't kiss good. What the fuck." He stuck out his hand, and Gregory was quick to pass the weed back over to Stan, who took another long hit. When he next spoke, thick clouds smelling densely of marijuana left his mouth as well. "Anyways, obviously I wasn't feeling like going to class and being buddy-buddy with her friends after seeing her act like that."
"Why do you come back to her?"
"Because I keep thinking she'll, like, change or something! Plus she's still really hot and stuff."
"Hm. That's your preference, I suppose."
"What are you, fucking gay?" Stan cracked a grin at Gregory, and the blonde smirked back before holding out his hand, and again the joint passed between the two. Gregory's golden eyes focused on something distant, and for a while they quietly sat there.
After a few minutes, Gregory glanced over at Stan to see if the noirette was doing better, only to find a dark scowl on his face, sapphire-blue eyes trained on something nonexistent in the shadows. Sometimes, he forgot how strangely... pretty Stan seemed to look, even when he was mad. Gregory didn't realize he'd even been staring until the darker-haired boy met his gaze suddenly, eyes questioning. Holy shit, were his eyes usually this pretty?
God, the weed was getting to him. Oh wait- Stan was still staring at him.
The blonde opened his mouth to ask if the shorter boy was doing alright, when suddenly Stan let out an angry sigh, grabbing the blunt out of Gregory's hands with an irritable glower on his face.
"I wish you could just... have someone! To practice kissing on! I'll never get Wendy to date me again at this rate." Stan grumbled, blue eyes narrowed at the ground as he took another hit of weed, no longer caring if he stunk up the highschool bathroom. Between his anger and the high he was quickly working up, he could hardly care for anything other than sitting in this bathroom and griping about his problems.
Gregory raised his eyebrows as he took the blunt back from Stan. Then, after a long hit that turned the end's glow bright and blazing, Gregory turned back to Stan.
"You could practice on me."
His face turned hot once he realized he said it, though the edge of his embarrassment was taken off by the weed, and there was more room to talk about this sort of stuff suddenly. Stan looked equally surprised and flustered across the stall, a red blush tinging his cheeks as well.
"What? Like, actually?"
Gregory shifted around nervously, not sure what to say. He wasn't sure whether to take his words back, and there was a sudden tension in the air, though... not necessarily a negative or angry one. Just the tension of what would happen next.
Finally, he found words, somewhere in his mind. "If you want to. It's not like we have schoolyard crushes on eachother, Stan. It's just... friends helping friends."
"Friends helping friends." Stan repeated thoughtfully, and Gregory realized suddenly that their eyes were locked, and as hard as he tried he could not move his eyes away.
"Yeah."
Stan shuffled nearer, and Gregory felt his heart leap in his chest. What? No, he was completely straight. He was helping his friend. That was what was happening. Stan reached out to put a hand on Gregory's shoulder, and suddenly they were very close, and Gregory still could not break their gaze. Stan's eyes were like glittering sapphires. Anticipation fluttered in his chest. Holy shit, holy shit.
"Are you... are you sure? That you're okay with this?"
"Yeah. This is..." He swallowed nervously. Every part of his brain was screaming that he was more than okay with this, and it was so hard to think through it all, to sort out his emotions as they swam through his head. "This is okay."
Stan cupped Gregory's face, looking nervous, cheeks redder than before.
Pot smoke filled the room, the blunt long forgotten on the tile floors.
Gregory's breath hitched in his chest.
And then there was connection, suddenly.
At first, the kiss was gentle, nervous, awkward. Neither of them were sure where to take this, how to take this, but oh my god, it suddenly felt really good for it to be happening to Gregory. He took in a breath, heart doing somersaults in his chest, and then carefully, so fucking carefully, he put a hand on the back of Stan's head, and pressed him closer.
Stan seemed to get the idea, and they were so close Gregory could tell Stan's breathing was as hitched and nervous as Gregory's was, as the noirette moved his arms to have better access to Gregory, almost holding him against the wall as he moved deeper into he kiss.
Gregory moved away for a moment to suck in a breath, and in that moment he met Stan's eyes again. Neither of them could speak, but Stan knew what Gregory was asking him, and he nodded. Gregory continued on, mashing their lips together again, and this time Stan was able to take control a bit more easily, moving closer to Gregory and cupping his face in his hands. Gregory allowed him to move more into his mouth, and then holy shit, they were actually making out on the floor of the bathroom.
They were both shaking as they continued, and then they broke away again to breathe.
"I can't- I can't get at you right-" Stan mumbled, eyes wide and fiery.
Gregory grabbed Stan by his back, repositioning him so he was basically sitting on his lap, and then they tried again, before they'd even really caught their breath. The blonde threw his arms around Stan and ran his fingers through the other boy's pitch dark hair as they yet again kissed eachother violently, like it was a new kind of oxygen they didnt realize they'd needed all their lives. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was not supposed to be this good, this was not supposed to fit together so perfectly and answer so many questions and...
Who gave a fuck. Who actually gave a fuck right now? Gregory moved to help Stan, and together they managed to actually full-blown start making out. Gregory moved to kiss on the edge of Stan's mouth and down his neck, and Stan planted kisses on Gregory's nose and forehead and wherever he could get at, and then they locked eyes again.
Sapphire and gold clashed together with an intensity like fire. The room seemed to be shimmering with colors, oddly vibrant, light dancing around Stan as he stared into Gregory's eyes. "This is... really good." The noirette breathed.
"... Yeah.." Gregory replied, too amazed with the sudden beauty of everything around them, too struck by how beautiful the boy in his lap was, to give any further answer. It was like the world had been made for this moment, and now that it had happened, every color, every beam of light, was celebrating.
"Can we keep going?" Stan nervously asked, his eyes wary, as though somehow Gregory was insane enough to say no.
"... Please." Gregory managed, watching the shorter boy practically glow. A smile crossed his face, and he collapsed against Gregory's chest, still smiling when he looked up again.
"So is this like... a thing now? Can we make it a thing?"
"Only if you keep going right now." Gregory blurted, and Stan chuckled.
"Holy fuck, we're so high, man." He laughed, pressing his lips back against Gregory's. The blonde leaned back, pressing against Stan's lips with a smile, still amazed at how perfect everything seemed to be whenever they kissed, like they had literally been made to fit together like this. It was so amazing, so beautiful.
Gregory broke away only for a moment, and in that moment, Stan smiled back at him, and then he began laughing. It was the most amazing sound in the world, and Gregory wanted to listen to it forever.
Yeah. This was definitely gonna be a thing. A really, really good thing.