Chapter Text
Stan has a habit of lying in bed, unmoving, even after his alarm goes off. Sometimes, he doesn’t even turn off the blaring noise, opting to numb it out instead. He likes to lie still and watch the outside through the window near his bed, breathing evenly and slowly. The past few weeks, he’d been happy to watch the snow fall in silence. It allowed his mind to actually empty for once. Today it happened to be clear out, so Stan settles for monitoring the frost on his windows as it melts away.
Irresponsibly lying down until he no longer could is especially appealing nowadays, considering the temperature outside of his cocoon of blankets. As good of a wake-up call twenty-one degrees (Fahrenheit) is, Stan already had his own wake up process: lie in bed listening to his phone scream at him. Something about it was sort of soothing rather than agitating, unlike how you’d expect it to be.
Suddenly, the ringing stopped and his phone began to buzz to the rhythm of a heartbeat and the chorus of “Do You Realize?” by The Flaming Lips broke into his silent mental recharge time. Stan grunts and rolls onto his stomach, grabbing for his phone on his nightstand. He already knows who it is.
“Hey Wends,” Stan mumbles into the phone. His voice was gravely from sleep. He frowns, clearing his throat and feeling insecure over it.
“Good morning, Stan!” Wendy chirps. He hears sounds of dishes clacking and water running in the background. “Sorry, did I wake you up? I know it’s kind of early.”
“No, you’re all good. You need a ride today?” Stan assumes that’s why she called. She never calls this early unless she needs one on short notice.
“Yeah, if that’s alright? Bebe spent the night last night because we needed to finish some stuff in preparation for the dance next week, so she’s here with me too.” He can hear Bebe in the background say, ‘Hi Stan!’.
“Hi Bebe,” he replies, and Wendy repeats his words to her friend. He could hear the smile in her words and smiled to himself at the mental image of his girlfriend. Stan finally sits up in bed, and a wave of cold air clung to his bare arms. He winces at the sensation. “Of course. I’ll head over there in twenty.”
“You’re the best.” Wendy tells him, “See you then!” Stan removes the phone from his ear and braces himself to stand when his phone starts shrieking again.
“Fuck!” He jumps in shock, dropping his phone in his lap. He’d totally forgotten about the alarm.
Stan gets up and stretches long, letting out a soft huff as he touched his ceiling fan with his fingertips. As he walks over to his closet, he peers over at his full-body mirror leaning against the wall to his right. Stan supposes he’s proud of his looks. He’s always been handsome, but that’s because he looks more like his mother: straight nose, gentle and expressive eyes, full lips. Stan is often called pretty but he doesn’t take this as a shot to his masculinity- not like he’s really ever been too attached to that anyway.
“Stanley! Your breakfast is ready!” His mom calls out from downstairs, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Hurry up and get down here!”
“Yeah, ‘m almost ready!” Stan replies, although he was still adorned in his sweats and a beloved XL vintage Terrance and Phillip graphic tee. Kyle had found it for him when they’d gone thrift shopping with Kenny a few months back. He’s obsessively worn it to sleep almost every night since. Stan opens his closet and hurriedly throws some new socks and underwear onto his bed. He blindly grabs some random overused jeans, a black long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a knitted 80’s navy-blue patterned sweatshirt that Wendy had picked out for him. He pulls his shirt off and grunts at the cold. Fucking South Park.
Scurrying down the stairs, Stan checks his phone and sees he only has about seven minutes left until he needs to be at Wendy’s- she’s super punctual- so he lets his mom know he needs to leave early. She raises her eyebrows at him. “Why are you in such a rush? School doesn’t start until another thirty minutes.” She gestures to the pan of eggs and bacon she had set out on the table, enough to feed the three of them. “You haven’t even had breakfast.”
“Parking.” Stan lies. He hurriedly grabs his backpack, lunch, and car keys. Stan turns from the counter and was greeted by his mother’s unimpressed expression. He smiles sheepishly and moves towards her. He kisses her on the cheek. “It’s limited. I want to park under the- uh-” He waves his hand about, “sun protector things- you know, the parking spots with the roof, so snow doesn’t get on my car.” He takes a slice of buttered toast off the table and sticks it into his mouth and offers an awkward smile around the bread to her, swiftly walking away. He hears her let out a little laugh as she chirps a sweet, “Drive safe!” to him.
“Byeee Stan, don’t get caught driving your little girlfriend to school~.” Randy whispers to his son as he scurries to the front door. Stan whips to his dad’s direction and shushes him, which Randy responds to with a chuckle. Stan technically isn’t allowed to drive others around yet. He’d just gotten his provisional license a month ago.
The snow on his driveway had already been shoveled, and his windshield was already cleared. He notes to himself to thank his mom later, because his dad definitely didn’t do that. He checks the time on his phone. Three minutes. Damn.
“You’re late,” Wendy teases, but he knows she isn’t really teasing. She hops into the car and kisses Stan’s jaw, hugging him tight. He squeezes her back, noting she smells like vanilla. “Ah, it’s so warm in here.”
“Seriously,” Bebe sighs in contentment, clicking her seatbelt into its buckle. He looks over to her as he and Wendy part. The blonde smiles at him. “You’re a life-saver, Stan.”
“No worries.” Stan tells her, but he sort of doesn’t mean that, because there were worries.
“You smell like toast.” Wendy observes, moving to put her seatbelt on as he backed out of her driveway and turned back to the way he’d came from. “Did you have enough time to eat breakfast?”
“Uh, yeah.” Stan did not eat breakfast. “’s why I smell like toast.” Wendy only nods in response, likely unconvinced.
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Bebe says, “That was actually my day at a glance notification this morning!” Stan sees her beaming from the rear-view mirror, but nervously he looks back onto the road. He is a little paranoid about being caught- not that anyone in this small mountain town cares anyway.
Wendy turns around in her seat to look at Bebe. “Really? That’s cute. Mine was so dark.”
“Lemme see.” Bebe grabs for Wendy’s phone, and she lets her take it. Stan wonders why he isn’t allowed to touch Wendy’s phone like Bebe is, but he supposes it’s a girl thing. “Oooh, ouch.”
“I know! Costar didn’t have to call me out like that.” Wendy takes the phone and huffs, turning back around to pout. There was a short silence, and Stan takes this as it’s his turn to speak.
“What are you guys talking about?” Stan has a feeling he’s going to regret this.
“You don’t know what Costar is?” Bebe asks him, seeming shocked. “Wendy! You guys haven’t compared charts yet?”
“I’ve been too busy to ask him!” Wendy explains, and she turns to Stan, setting a hand on his arm. “Sorry, baby.”
“What’s Costar? What charts?” Stan furrows his brow, and peers over at his girlfriend when he reaches a stop sign. Wendy sighs and smiles at him. “Eyes on the road.” She comments.
Stan turns back to face the street just as Bebe continues. “Costar is an app that shows you your full horoscope chart and lets you compare it with others. I didn’t even know my zodiac sign until I downloaded it!”
“Zodiac sign?” Stan found himself just getting more confused. “Isn’t that like, animals? Chinese animals? I’m pretty sure I’m a dragon.”
“No, no, Stan.” Wendy looks over at Bebe and they giggle. Stan guesses it’s because they think he’s stupid. “Zodiac signs are different. They’re sections of the sky. The positioning of the Earth during the time and place you were born dictates your personality traits.” Stan maintains his frown, deeper in thought.
“Wait, what? Doesn’t like, life shape who you are?”
“Well, that’s the debate of nature versus nurture. I like to think the answer is both. This is nature.” Wendy replies, as if any of that meant anything to Stan. He still doesn’t see how a bunch of stars and planets made him the man he is.
“I’m not following.” Stan states. Wendy glances over her shoulder to Bebe, and Bebe leans forward, her head nestling close in between Stan and Wendy.
“Your chart can show you what traits and habits you were born with, what you will struggle with the most, what you will be good at.” Bebe explains, “For example, I’m an Aries, but obviously not all Aries are the same. I wouldn’t be the same person as a male Aries, for example, or the same Aries as someone who was born super rich. However, we’d all be likely to appreciate spontaneity, and all have a natural ambition. Life obviously does affect an individual’s development, but your zodiac chart tells you what tools you were given by the force of nature at birth, y’know?” Wendy points at her best friend and nods in agreement.
“Exactly!” Wendy beams at her.
“The… what…” Stan purses his lips. He doesn’t have the brain power for this. He’d honestly sort of tapped out halfway through her explanation, opting to think about the bacon at home he wished he could’ve eaten. He pulls into the school parking lot and sees that all of the sunroof parking spots are taken. Damn. Depending on his luck, he might have to wipe snow off his windshield after school. He pulls into a spot and peers over at Wendy, only to see her tapping on his phone. “Uh, hey, whatcha doing?”
“Making you a costar. What time and where were you born?”
“Uhm,” Stan paused, “Eight fifteen PM here in South Park.” Wendy clicks a bit on his phone. Stan checks the time and sees they have about fifteen minutes until first period, so he doesn’t bother to turn off his car, wanting to enjoy the heat a little while longer.
“Aha!” Wendy grins, “Aw, yes, I forgot you’re a libra.”
“Aw, that makes so much sense.” Bebe leans over Wendy’s shoulder to look down at Stan’s phone. “He’s a cancer moon… also makes sense.”
“Wow, this explains so much.” Wendy mumbles. Stan blankly stares at them as they inspect whatever is on his phone, occasionally exclaiming in different ways how unsurprising his results are.
“Yeah, I still don’t get it.” Stan confesses, “Sorry.” Wendy looks up and smiles at him before moving to kiss him on the nose. Stan feels himself blush.
“It’s just confirming to us how wonderful you are, Stan.” She pats his cheek. She peers at the time. “Oh, we’ve gotta go!” She hands Stan his phone. “C’mon,” She slides out of Stan’s truck after quickly unbuckling herself. Bebe swiftly follows suit, and the two girls hurry over to the building where a big swarm of kids are entering the building in a rush for warmth.
Stan stares down at his phone, which is still open to the chart. His stomach growls. “Whatever, dude.” He sighs through his words and promptly turns his car off.
-
Stan’s phone buzzes quietly in his pocket during second period United States history class and he already knows who it is. He smiles, sliding his laggy iPhone five out of his pocket, and thanks Jesus silently for putting him in the back row of the class. He opens his Discord app.
human kite
Wtf is this lecture
Stan looks over to Kyle, who is sat across the room in the middle near the windows. His hand held his cheek as he stared with disinterest at the whiteboard in front of him. He has his notebook out and open on the desk, but nothing is on it- Kyle rarely ever takes notes, anyway. It’s just for show.
stanmarsh7
idk i haven’t been listening lol
He sneaks a look over to his best friend once he hits send, and watches as Kyle stares down at his phone under the desk. Kyle looks back to shoot a smirk over at Stan, and Stan’s chest warms at the sight. It’s probably because he wants to laugh but can’t.
human kite
I’m already over today. It’s too fucking cold
stanmarsh7
tell mr ab it
i had to go get wendt and brbr so i got shit psrkinh
human kite
Stop texting without looking. You’re killing my brain cells. The teacher doesn’t give a shit.
She can’t even see you anyway stupid
stanmarsh7
youch
i got shit parking
human kite
Yeah, I managed to decipher the bs you sent me
Do you think you can give me a ride home today?
stanmarsh7
ofc dude
ill ask wends if she needs a ride 2 cus idk
human kite
She’s staying back today to help the dance decoration crew with supplies. She wanted me to help but I said hell no
stanmarsh7
boooo ur a bad vp
human kite
Fuck you
Stan looks over to Kyle who has kept a straight face; however, he’s flipping Stan off under his desk. Stan poorly stifles a laugh.
“Mr. Marsh,” the teacher calls on him, and Stan jumps a bit in his seat. He nods at the teacher, feeling weary. She’s a weird middle-aged woman Stan can never seem to remember the name of. He swears her name changes every day. “You’re a sensible young man. What do you think of the dirty commies?”
“Well- wait, what?” Stan frowns. The whole class has turned to stare at him. He meets Kyle’s gaze and the red head raises his eyebrows, looking amused. “Uhhhh. I plead the fifth.” Kyle snorts from his desk, and so do a few other kids, but Stan is only glad to have made Kyle laugh.
“Are you a fan of the Soviet Union, Mr. Marsh?”
“Well, no, but-” Stan pauses, scrambling for a way to get out of this.
“Fuck Reds.” Some guy in a MAGA hat comments from the front row, staring directly at Stan with a sneer, and the teacher’s attention turns to him with a smile. Stan stares at the kid, deciding on whether he should be grateful or not. That kid is kind of gross. He’s seen him pick his nose and wipe it under his desk like three times.
human kite
Ok that was fucking funny
stanmarsh7
ya wtvr i hate that guy
human kite
Who? Fregley?
stanmarsh7
his name is not fucking fregley shut the fuck up
human kite
It so is.
The bell rang, stopping Stan mid-text, and he shot up quickly. God, Stan hates this class. He swings his battered JanSport bag over his shoulder and rushes to the door. Stan had no interest in letting the teacher catch him to talk to him about her radical conservative views. He knew that she knew he was a Socialist, it was evident in his papers (which she graded with a bias, he only ever got C’s). It’s why she targeted him so often.
He pauses at the lockers in front of the door and waits patiently for Kyle, bouncing on his heels. Kyle strides out leisurely with a smirk and straight over to Stan. “You fucking pussy, you bolted out of there so fast.”
“Yeah, so?” Stan huffs, crossing his arms. “She’s scary, dude. Her breath stinks. Give me a break.” Kyle rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone from his pocket. Kyle’s gotten taller, Stan observes. Kyle’s a bit taller than him, standing at a height of five-eleven, while Stan was still five-ten. Stan knew he wasn’t done growing and had a good feeling he’d surpass Kyle soon, although Kyle swears he won’t. It’s just denial. He knows Kyle knows it is totally happening. Stan watches as Kyle’s nose crinkles at his screen and he runs a hand through his bangs. His curls had loosened their tight form years ago, allowing them to leave his fingers to fall softly on his head.
“Fucking- ugh,” Kyle groans, “I need to pick up Ike from school. Do you think you could-?”
“Yeah, dude.” Stan answers, cutting him off. He nudges him gently. “No worries.” There really were no worries. Stan loves Ike, and that means more time with Kyle. Kyle smiles loosely at him and slips his phone away into his coat.
“Thanks, dude.” Kyle says, “I would’ve killed everyone around me and then myself if I had to walk to South Park elementary from here in fucking negative six weather.”
“You mean twenty-one-degree weather.” Stan corrects him, amused. He follows Kyle as he moved over into the direction of Kenny’s locker, where they usually met up with him to walk to study hall together.
“Celsius is superior you asshat.” Kyle replies stiffly. “One day you’ll catch on.”
“Yes, sure, dude.” Stan rolled his eyes. He looks away from Kyle to see Kenny leaning against his locker, chatting animatedly with Butters, who was nodding and smiling at him. The two turned as Kyle and Stan reached them, pausing their conversation.
“Good morning fe- uh- guys!” Butters stuttered, scrunching his face up in thought. Kyle huffed out a laugh.
“What the hell was that?” Kyle asks, and Butters blushes, looking off to the side. Kenny sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Cartman ragged on him yesterday after school for still saying fellas. Said it makes him sound gay.” Kenny explains, gesturing lazily to Butters who was still looking a little flustered. “So, Butters is trying to prove him wrong and cut it out of his vocab.”
“Aren’t you actually gay though?” Stan queries, but he goes ignored. Butters huffs, removes his hands from his blue hoodie’s middle pocket, and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Eric can be such a bully sometimes. I can’t help it, it’s just how I’ve always talked, y’know?”
“I think it’s fine, dude. No one really cares. Just keep saying it.” Kenny taps Butters’ ankle with his foot and Butters’ face and posture relaxes a bit. “Besides, Cartman’s a dick.”
“Man.” Kyle pinches his face, looking bothered. “I don’t wanna think about Cartman right now. It’s too early for him to exist.”
“Where is he, anyway?” Stan asks Butters, because he’s the most likely to know; he has Cartman for second period English. Wendy’s in that class, too. It’s one of the two AP English class periods, the other being fifth period, which is the one Kyle has with Tolkien, Craig, and Jimmy, who is unsurprisingly an amazing writer. Cartman usually meets up with them here after second period. His locker is next to Kenny’s.
“He went to the student council room to go over somethin’ with Wendy. I dunno what it was, but he looked pretty bothered, ‘n so did Wendy. Although, she’s always bothered when she’s talkin’ to him.” Butters shrugs, and Stan hums in thought but finds himself feeling actually pretty uninterested in whatever Cartman and Wendy are arguing over.
“I still can’t believe that fatass actually got secretary position.” Kyle hissed. “Fucking rigged. He just kissed ass for a month up till the elections.”
Stan remembered the elections. Kyle had run for president against Wendy and Cartman, his second choice being secretary, just like the other two’s. “The vice president doesn’t do shit.” Kyle had explained to Stan when Stan had asked why, “You just stand around waiting for the president to get sick or to get hit by a bus or something. You’re not really vital, you’re more like an understudy.”
“Well, I think you make a great vice president, Kyle.” Butters, their student council’s treasurer, offers his support. “Eric would be a terrible VP. He’d prolly make Wendy go missin’ or somethin’ to get the president position, knowin’ him.”
“A valid point has been made.” Kenny gestures to Butters, assisting in the support of Kyle. Stan is aware that this is an effort meant to avoid another long rant about Cartman and how he fucked with the votes, which he definitely did do, but Stan can agree that he couldn’t stand to listen about it much longer. Cartman was always going to be Cartman. “We trust the power in your hands, and your hands only.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Kyle dismisses them. Stan finds himself tuning out, staring too hard at Kenny’s worn and thin burgundy long sleeve. There was a hole in it near the end, and his jeans were ripped too, exposing his left knee. Kenny never gets too cold. He could be in a thin shirt in this weather and barely shiver, but Stan supposes that’s because he had to adapt to survive these sorts of conditions with little to nothing. Stan and Kyle had given him a sherpa denim Levi’s jacket for his birthday two years ago, one size too big so he could use it for a while, and now he’s almost fully grown into it properly. The jacket was so worn that the denim had gone soft, so it tied loosely around his waist. He remembers the time Kyle had tried it on. He’d looked good. How come he doesn’t have a denim jacket?
“Stan?” Kyle poked him in his side and Stan blinked in surprise. “C’mon dude, we gotta head to class.”
“Right. Sorry.” Stan nodded, waving goodbye to Butters and following Kyle and Kenny who spoke in front of him. They squeezed through the crowd, and Stan found himself holding onto Kyle’s Herschel Supply backpack to stay near them.