Work Text:
Stan Marsh is not a globetrotter. In his fourteen years of life, he’s left South Park only a handful of times for field trips and vacations; detours that essentially never extended over a few days, and rarely ever expanded beyond the state of Colorado. Still, even with this complete lack of world knowledge, Stan is willing to bet there’s no better place in the world to be in during the third week of July than South Park.
To the untrained eye, the inexperienced visitor, the third week of July in South Park is simply that. But Stan knows better; thanks to Randy’s sporadic climate history rants, he knows the third week of July is when South Park reaches its peak hot weather. And because there’s no such thing as hot weather in South Park, what all of this really means is, it’s the week when the weather is, at least in Stan’s experience, the best in the world. By the third week of July, enough time has passed that whatever remnants of snow from early May have completely melted off, and the sun is strong enough to allow the trees and flowers to bloom, but soft enough that you can stay below it without getting hot. The pleasant wind gets rid of any possible humidity and for some magical reason, it’s the one week it has not rained for the past four years (seriously—Stan keeps track).
All in all, it’s pretty easy to understand why Stan is in a great mood when this time of the year rolls around: beautiful weather for any activity and no school to dictate his schedule? He’s especially chipper today, Wednesday of the third week of July as he walks over to his best friend’s house with an unrestricted pep in his step. Can you blame him? Even the birds are singing.
Stan’s brainstorming ideas on what they should do on this pleasant day as he knocks on Kyle’s door. He’s internally debating on which plan is better: eating shaved ice at Stark’s Pond or spitting at cars over the new pedestrian bridge, when the door opens and Stan’s mind goes completely blank when he sees Kyle.
“Hey,” Kyle says, smiling at Stan as if everything’s normal. As if he doesn’t have his big, old bulky ushanka on. The ushanka that he not only stopped wearing about four years ago, but would never think to wear in 67-degree weather.
“Uh, hey,” Stan replies wearily, still staring at the top of Kyle’s head. He quickly shifts his gaze back to Kyle, trying to ignore the hat. “So, what do you wanna do?”
“Oh, I was actually thinking we could stay here. I made popcorn and everything, so maybe we could stay inside and watch a movie?” Kyle offers, scratching the back of his head wearily..
Stan’s about to ask if he’s gone crazy. Why the hell would he rather stay indoors during one of the only days of the year when it’s actually enjoyable to be outside? And why the fuck does he have a winter hat on? Jesus, Stan really can’t stop staring at it.
He’s about to protest with all of this, even starts to open his mouth, but Kyle beats him to it. “I made caramel for you,” he says, a last ditch attempt to make Stan agree.
And when Stan meets Kyle’s eyes again and notices the way they’re beaming up at him, pleading without having to say a word, they shut him up immediately. He bites his lip. When did he become this compliant? “Okay, sounds good.”
They’re in the living room watching a Transformers movie. Well, Kyle is watching a Transformers movie. Stan’s trying to watch it too, but he can’t stop himself from glancing over at Kyle on the other end of the sofa every five minutes. Why on Earth is he still wearing that stupid hat? Sure, it’s a little cooler inside the house, but it’s nowhere near cold to warrant a winter hat, much less Kyle’s heavy-duty ushanka.
By the fifth time Stan turns to stare again, Kyle notices. Or maybe he’d noticed before and he’s finally fed up, because he picks up the remote to pause the movie with an annoyed grunt. “Okay, what’s up with you?” he asks, turning to look Stan’s way.
Stan’s eyes widen, and he shrugs as an attempt to feign innocence. “Nothing.”
Kyle crosses his arms. “Then why do you keep staring at me? Seriously, you’re acting super weird.”
A chuckle inevitably escapes Stan. “Dude, really? I’m the one acting weird?”
Kyle raises an eyebrow defiantly. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s because you’re wearing your ushanka in the middle of summer? So why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Kyle frowns. “I just felt like wearing it.”
Stan rolls his eyes. “That’s such bullshit. You never wear that hat anymore.”
“How do you know? Do you remember everything I wear all the time?” Kyle says sarcastically, brow furrowing further.
Kind of, Stan thinks earnestly. With a sigh, he says, “Dude, come on. We were supposed to go out and now you don’t want to leave the house.” He moves an inch closer to Kyle’s side on the couch. “And, yeah, it is a little distracting that you’re wearing a fur hat with cargo shorts,” he teases lightly, hoping it’ll ease Kyle’s mood.
Kyle’s face softens, but he looks away as he says, “Okay, but you can’t laugh.”
“I won’t,” Stan says, scooting closer towards Kyle again. He stands straighter; a way to let Kyle know he’s listening.
Kyle’s eyes flicker toward Stan before staring back ahead. With a sigh, he slowly lifts the hat off his head.
Stan watches, waits for a fraction of a second to see the rest of Kyle’s hair fall down near his face. But it doesn’t. Stan searches for Kyle’s curls, as if they’re going to sprout magically any second now, but they’re gone; all of them, replaced by very short, tiny hair that’s barely sticking out of his scalp. A buzz cut.
“Oh,” is all Stan manages to say.
Kyle groans. “Is it that bad?”
Stan shakes his head and moves even closer towards Kyle. “No, no! It’s not bad at all.”
Kyle runs a hand through what’s left of his hair. “You’re not just saying that, right? My head doesn’t look weird?”
“No, I’m serious! You look good!” It’s not a lie, really. Stan thinks Kyle always looks good, even though he’s already missing his curls. But he knows now’s not the time to bring that up. “It’s more, uh, rugged. It’s cool."
Kyle lets out a sigh and finally turns to look at him. “Okay, you kinda scared me when you got all quiet. You looked like you were gonna pass out.”
Stan clears his throat, scoots over to Kyle’s side even further. “You just… surprised me, that’s all.” Their knees are touching now. “Is that what the ushanka was for, to hide it?”
Kyle nods. “I didn’t think you’d question it so much.”
“Dude, how could I not? It’s not even a little cold. You couldn’t have gone with a more subtle accessory?”
Kyle holds out the hat in his hands, examining his choice. “This one hides my sides.”
Stan bites his lip to stop a smile.
Kyle notices. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”
“I’m not laughing!” Stan says, though it comes out with what sounds like a snicker at the end.
Kyle narrows his eyes, a smile slowly forming. “You are laughing.” He throws the ushanka to Stan, who narrowly dodges it with another snicker.
“I’m laughing because you’re laughing.” Stan manages to say between chuckles.
“I’m not laughing because this isn’t a laughing matter,” Kyle says before laughing along with Stan.
“Why’d you want to cut off all your hair anyway?” Stan asks when they’ve stopped laughing.
Kyle shrugs. “I don’t know, it was kind of a spur-of-the moment decision. I’ve always had it long and… I thought, now that we’re going to high school, I should try something different. I thought I’d look cool.”
“You do look cool. You always look cool,” Stan says, voice trailing off.
Kyle rolls his eyes and touches his hair again. “I don’t know, I still think my head looks weird.”
“It really doesn’t.”
“Well, maybe it’ll grow back before September,” Kyle says with a shrug.
“I can cut my hair off too,” Stan says, “then we’ll match.” He takes off the Broncos baseball cap he’s got on to comb through his hair, as if pondering on the idea.
“What? No!” Kyle flings his hands forward, tangling his own hands into Stan’s hair. He grips the hand Stan has in his hair with his own. “Don’t you dare.”
And wow, Kyle is really, really close now. Their legs are basically squeezed together, and Stan can smell Kyle’s spearmint toothpaste from here. “Why not?” Stan manages to say, begging his brain to keep his eyes strictly focused on Kyle’s eyes and not his lips.
“Because I like your hair,” Kyle says coolly, before he starts to run one of his hands down Stan’s face.
“Really?” Stan asks, feeling breathless at the way Kyle’s hand is now resting on his neck, the other one still tangled in his hair on top of Stan’s.
“Yeah, really,” Kyle replies, his voice small all of a sudden.
“What else do you like about me?” Stan asks with an exaggerated, playful tone—because he’s certain they’re having a moment (the moment), but he needs an exit strategy in case he’s completely misreading everything: their proximity, their hand touching, Kyle’s sudden compliment.
“Everything,” Kyle blurts.
Stan huffs a laugh. “Shut up.”
But Kyle’s face sobers. “I mean it. I like your jokes and your songs and the fact that you refuse to eat animals. I like those doodles you make in the notes we pass and how you always remember to get me strawberry-flavored things. I like spending every summer vacation with you and I like…” Kyle takes a breath, and Stan can feel his grip getting tighter, his eyes brimming with emotion when they catch the light, as he says with a subdued voice, “I like you.”
Stan has to take a moment, needs to make sure he heard the words correctly. I like you. It’s something Stan already knows: of course Kyle likes him, they’re best friends. But hearing it said out loud for the first time like this, it’s different: quiet and careful, a statement that needed its own space. Stan knows this isn't an I like you rooted in reassuring their friendship. It’s a confession.
Stan can feel the way his heart swells as he remembers to take a breath. He’s grinning from ear to ear, finding it impossible not to. “Cool.”
Kyle scoffs. “Cool? I just told you I like you and all you have to say is ‘cool’? Are you psych—”
Whatever Kyle’s about to say is interrupted by Stan leaning forward and kissing him. Stan can feel Kyle lets out a short gasp into his mouth before kissing back, spearmint and a blazing heat overwhelming Stan. “Do you like that too?” he asks when they pull away.
“Yes,” Kyle answers with a tone that’s trying to come across as irritated, but his smile and flush cheeks give him away.
“Cool.”
Kyle snickers. “Is that your answer to everything now?”
“Maybe. Are you keeping track of everything I say?” Stan teases.
“Maybe,” Kyle says with a lopsided smile.
Stan grins again and plants a quick kiss on Kyle’s lips. “Let’s go out. I wanna do something with you, outside.”
Kyle’s mouth twists. “I don’t want people to see my hair.”
“Here,” Stan says, grabbing his Broncos cap and putting it on him. “No one will suspect a thing and you won’t sweat your head off.” He stands up and turns to Kyle. “Now come on, I’m in the mood for a sundae.”
Kyle lets out an annoyed sigh, but he’s smiling as he adjusts the cap. “Fine, but you’re paying.”
Stan grins and takes Kyle’s hand when he stands up. “It’s a date then.”