Kiss Cam

Spontaneous was...a fairly good word to describe Randall Marsh. Not that 'spontaneous' was particularly prevalent in the currently growing list of adjectives Stan was thinking up to describe his father, he thought glumly, sitting with his head resting in his hands at a basketball game in Colorado. He mentally cursed his sister for being so quick with her loud (but neat) sidestepping of Randy's harebrained, mid-life crisis fueled desperation for father-child bonding.
This left Stan of course, as the youngest and only other one of Randy's offspring, the inescapable chore of accompanying his father to a game of a sport he was in no way interested in. With his father yelling obscenities at the court below them on his right, and on his left a boy he'd managed to walk rather painfully right into on his way in, Stan wasn't exactly having the time of his life.
The boy was taller than Stan, pudgy (endearingly so) and had ridiculously curly red hair that looked like it had taken a good long while to stuff underneath his hat. He was being trailed by a small boy of about 11, who looked about as eager to be here as Stan did. Oh yeah; and he was quite possibly the hottest piece of ass Stanley Marsh had ever laid his eyes upon.

And Stan had walked right into him. He'd apologized profusely before rushing to a seat, blushing like an idiot and swallowing down a mouthful of vomit. Great. He'd made a shitty first impression and now he smelled like throw-up. He would have kicked himself had pure sod's lawnot activated and had the cute redhead and his brother plop right into the seat next to him.
His heart gave a squeeze and his stomach dropped. The boy had turned, smiled sheepishly and was that a hint of red in his cheeks?? Stan had smiled weakly back and pretended to keep his eyes fixed on the game.

He was brought back to the realm of the conscious by a loud hoot from his father and a sharp elbow being brought into his side.

Stan dragged his gaze up from his trainers to the monitors suspended from the ceil- holy fucking hell.

He'd heard of kiss-cam. He knew what it entailed. And right now, on that goddamn monitor, was live footage of him and the boy sitting next to him. Stan slowly turned around. The boy was looking at him, cheeks flushed a dark pink.

"Hey dude," he mumbled. "Do they want us to...kiss?"

"I think so." Stan gasped out. "Sh-should we?!!"

The small boy sitting behind the redhead leaned over and grinned. "Yes you should, Kyle's been eyefucking you ever since we walked in."

"Dude!" The redhead, no- Kyle swatted at his brother, blushing an even darker shade of red.

He..he had?? Stan had been concentrating so hard on keeping his eyes away from Kyle that he hadn't noticed. So did that me-

All thoughts left his mind as he felt lips smash against his own. The crowd whistled and screamed and clapped and Stan could've sworn he heard Randy half shriek, half laugh behind him ("HELL YES SON I WON THE BET!"). Stan's heart hammered wildly in his chest as Kyle gingerly placed a hand on his back. They pulled away, panting and grinning, as the kiss-cam moved away from them.

Stan gulped, euphoric.

"Hey uh...Kyle?"

The redhead blinked, grin fading a little. "...Y-yeah?"

"The name's....my name's Stan."