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Stan and Kyle were tented under the sheets of Stan’s bed; a flashlight with fading batteries lay in between them, lighting up the dim space. Initially, they had been telling scary stories sitting crossed-legged, hunched under the covers together, dark dramatic shadows falling over their faces as they traded tales. At this point, they’d run out of stories and moved onto another (far scarier) topic: kissing.
Stan was trying to describe what kissing was like to Kyle, who lacked experience, but his words were coming up short.
“It’s kind of like… your lips sandwich into each other, you know?” Stan tried to articulate, squishing his bottom lip between his middle and forefinger to demonstrate.
“Ew, stop doing that!” Kyle said with a laugh, swatting Stan’s arm and knocking his hand away from his mouth.
“Hey!” Stan protested, “I’m trying my best dude, I guess it’s just hard to describe.”
“Lip sandwich though, really?” Kyle teased, raising an eyebrow. Stan scoffed and stretched out one of his legs, kicking Kyle lightly in the shin.
“Don’t be an asshole, I’m being serious. I don’t know how else to describe it,” Stan admitted, and his eyes unfocused as he continued to try and find the right words. Kyle deflated a little and the sheets above him dipped lower, making the small space around them feel even smaller. He sighed, looking down at the mattress to hide his expression.
“I guess it’s just one of those things you have to actually do to understand,” he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but he sounded defeated. Basically everyone in their grade had had a real, proper, kiss kiss by now, and Kyle just wanted to at least kind of understand what his peers were talking about.
Stan sensed the hurt in his friend’s voice and immediately wanted to make him feel better. He leaned forward a bit and shifted his weight to his elbows, which were resting on his knees. The sheets above them rustled, changing the shadows, and the flashlight rolled into his leg.
“Dude, Kyle, don’t feel bad,” Stan pleaded. He had a sudden urge to reach for Kyle’s chin and tilt it up so he could see his face, but he shoved it down.
“It’s okay Stan, really,” Kyle replied unconvincingly, “let’s just drop it.”
“No, dude, cmon,” Stan hated seeing him like this– Kyle had always been a late bloomer, and he frequently felt left out around the other guys in their grade. “Look…” Stan said, getting an idea, “I’ll just show you, okay? I’ll kiss you, then you'll know what it feels like.”
Kyle’s head snapped up to look at Stan; his cheeks flushed red and his eyebrows furrowed. For a moment, Stan thought Kyle was going to yell at him for even suggesting it, but when Kyle spoke his eyebrows unfurrowed and his voice was soft.
“You would do that? Really?” he asked, saying it like he thought he was some kind of ugly monster. Kyle’s vulnerable tone caused a hairline fracture in Stan's heart, and it made him want to double down on his idea.
“Yeah of course, dude! Why the hell wouldn’t I?” Stan realized that had come out a little forceful so he added, “I mean, only if you want to. I promise it won’t be weird!” Kyle studied his face, trying to make sure he was being totally sincere.
“Okay,” he finally relented, “What the hell, I’ll do it.” He poked a finger into Stan’s chest, “But you better not make it weird!”
“You better not make it weird!” he joked, poking him back. There was a moment of silence as they awkwardly scooted closer together so their knees were touching. Kyle nudged Stan with his leg.
“Dude, you have to do it first, I don’t know how.”
“Oh! Right, sorry,” Stan startled. The covers around them had closed in and glowed yellow from the flashlight beam.
Stan was suddenly aware of how little air there was under here and just how hot it had gotten. Kyle's poofy orange hair was flattened under the sheets, and he could feel his toothpaste-clean breath puffing near his face. Kyle looked at him expectantly, but his confident facade was starting to slip away the longer Stan hesitated.
Stan cupped Kyle’s cheek in his left hand and glanced at his lips. “So I’m just gonna….” Stan shut his eyes, then leaned in and connected their lips, capturing Kyle’s bottom lip between his.
Kyle took a sharp breath in through his nose, but didn’t move away. He closed his eyes and waited for Stan’s next move. Very delicately, Stan opened his mouth again, but this time kissed around Kyle’s top lip. Kyle stayed put, his mouth moving slightly to reciprocate, so Stan tilted his own head and kissed him again, deeper. This time, Kyle kissed back for real and their mouths moved together with increasing urgency.
Stan licked along Kyle’s lips until they parted enough for their tongues to brush against each other. He was surprised by how addictingly good it felt, so he tilted his head the other way and kissed him from a new angle. When he and Wendy kissed, her tongue felt probing and spitty, and he usually found himself wondering how much longer it would last. With Kyle, the only thing he was thinking about was how good it felt, and how it was like they were having a full conversation with no words.
When they finally pulled apart to catch their breath, Stan was sure he looked as wrecked as Kyle did, even though he was supposed to be the experienced one. They breathed the same air for a moment. Stan hadn’t noticed before, but Kyle’s hand was on his shoulder, grasping at his t-shirt. Finally Kyle broke the silence, his fist loosening and dropping into his lap.
“I get what you were saying now, about the lip sandwich.” Stan let his hand slide from Kyle’s cheek and back into his own lap as well.
“Yeah….” Stan trailed off. He didn’t know what else to say. He hadn't thought that it would be… like that. It was different than any other kiss he’d ever had . Kyle scratched at the back of his head, he seemed to know something was off as well.
“Is it…..is it always like that?” he asked quietly, “It was like we were….”
“Talking,” they said at the same time, meeting each other’s eyes.
“No.” Stan answered simply, still kind of in shock. Kyle took it in stride, like he had suspected as much. They eyed each other, not sure what to do next. Again, it was Kyle who broke the tension. His voice going back to normal as he started to beat the covers off of their heads.
“Dude, it’s fucking hot in here, I can’t breathe,” He yanked the covers off and they were hit with the cool fresh air of Stan’s room, and it felt like they were coming up from underwater.
“Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how hot it was under there, Jesus,” Stan commented, flopping back into his pillows. Whatever spell they had been under beneath the sheets was broken, and with the change in atmosphere came the return of their usual dynamic.
“I know dude, holy fuck,” Kyle agreed, flopping down next to him. Stan glanced at the clock on his nightstand, it was past 1am.
“Shit dude, we should go to bed, it’s pretty late.”
“Then let’s go to bed,” Kyle replied, already yawning and digging out the flashlight from the sheets to switch it off. He placed it on the floor, then lay back down and rolled on his side so he was facing the middle of the bed. Stan settled in too, laying on his side as well so they were face to face, their noses almost touching. It was too dark to really see Kyle’s face, but he could feel the warmth radiating off of him and smell his distinct comforting scent.
“Stan,” Kyle started, quiet again, “can we sleep…. like this?”
“Yeah,” Stan exhaled, the minute space between them buzzing, “Yeah, let's sleep like this.”
So they did. They both fell asleep staring at the other’s silhouette in the dark, their faces close enough to touch, listening to the sound of the other breathing.
~~~
When they woke up the next morning, it was almost like the game had reset, but they’d leveled up. They were still the same guys with the same dynamic, but there was something new added to their relationship. They didn’t have to talk about it, they both innately knew that this was something they would keep doing together, privately.
When they chatted about their weekend plans at school around their other friends, they mentioned having sleepovers totally casually, like the word sleepover wasn’t suddenly the most loaded and enticing word they’d ever heard.
“Sleepover at mine tonight, Stan?” Kyle would ask with an armful of books, his tone light and easygoing. He was better at acting than Stan was, because Kyle gave nothing away. He was totally guarded and effortlessly so. When Stan would ask, there was always a flicker in his gaze that gave him away, just for a moment.
He’d say something like, “Hey dude, sleepover at my place tonight?” with his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to meet Kyle’s eyes like a normal friend would. Nobody noticed aside from Cartman, who did briefly notice at first, but he chalked it up to Stan just being a pussy in general. There wasn’t enough incriminating evidence against them, not yet at least.
When they kissed during their sleepovers, it was always under the covers like they had been the first time– and that became their little ritual. The dim light and stuffy air of the tented sheets was their private place. There, they could have wordless conversations with their lips and touch each other in tender delicate ways that they would never want their other friends to see. Stan loved running his fingers through Kyle’s curls and stroking the freckles (Kyle swore he didn’t have) on his cheeks with his thumbs. Kyle loved running his hands along Stan’s broader shoulders, and stroking the barely-there stubble on his chin.
For a few weeks, everything was good. They went on like this, acting like they always had out in public, and even when they were alone– up until the point they both got into bed and ducked under the covers. They’d been friends for so long that their parents didn’t even give a passing thought about them still sharing a bed during sleepovers, despite them being in high school. Besides, they didn’t do anything but make out and cuddle a little.
Soon though, their private sleepovers became more frequent, to the point where Kenny and Cartman were complaining about feeling left out. So then they had to start inviting their other friends along some of the time, and that threw a wrench in their routine. Even though they still had their own private sleepovers, they were almost conditioned to make out every time they were in their pajamas by now.
At this point, any sleepover– private or not –was just too tempting. By then, it was only a matter of time before something had to give at a less-than-private sleepover…. And it did.