Depths of Gloom (Stan x Kenny)

7

Kenny McCormick, you have to look away, dude. You have to look away right now, or you're gonna bust a nut.

Damn gym class. Stan was wearing basketball shorts, and a tight fitted shirt, as he ran around the field with a football tucked under tan skin. He dodged Craig when he dove to tackle him, spinning to miss the hand grabbing for his shirt. He got to the touchdown line, slamming the football on the ground while he laughed at Craig's irritation.

Their rivalry still held strong, it seemed.

But, Kenny was entirely too distracted by Stan, and his effortless attractiveness. Eyes wandering uncontrollably, he couldn't stop staring at those athletic, firm legs; it didn't hurt that his shorts were very well formed to other things. Actually, it did hurt, he was just trying to ignore it.

On the bleachers, about thirty feet from the actual field, the blonde leaned on his knees, quelling the unwarranted craving. At least he was alone, that was one thing to be glad for. If any of the guys were around, he surely would've been caught.

The teacher scrolled aimlessly on his phone at the bottom of the bleachers, failing to look up even once to check on the students. Perfect. Kenny grinned - he could do whatever he wanted.

Jumping down from his seat with ease, he slipped under the benches just the same as he did during football season. If he was taller like Tolkien, or Clyde, Kenny swore he never would've been able to hide down there, the gaps of the benchers were an unnecessary hike.

With a joint in his right hand, Kenny flicked on a lighter, the smoke filling his lungs with a deep, comforting inhale.

He could still see the field from there, luckily; Stan was bent over then, attempting to catch his breath in the blistering sun while beads of sweat trickled down his hairline. Although he enjoyed sports - unlike his smoking best friend - Stan was obviously getting tired of Craig's overly-aggressive shit. They could compete for a while, but it always eventually devolved into something serious.

He's so hot.. Kenny dragged out an exhale, his mouth hung open slightly as Stan pushed damp hair back from his forehead. It accentuated the remarkable blue eyes even from there. Engulfed in hormonal flames, he had to wrap an arm tightly around his stomach to calm down. It was impossible for him to not think about how much more sweaty he could make his best friend.

People could feel stares more than they let on, Kenny decided, as Stan suddenly turned to him, eyes not hesitating for a moment to expose his true position. He froze, the joint still hanging from the corner of his mouth as the waves of embarrassment crashed down on him.

Except, Kenny didn't want to be embarrassed - he was fucking tired of feeling something he didn't need to. Instead of acting like he wasn't staring, he tried something new, and gave into the impulsive thoughts with a devious smirk. Immortality may have put a damper on normal, sane thoughts, but his desires were never quite eliminated.

Seemingly a bit stunned by the behavior, Stan didn't have time to spot the ball flying directly at his face, and it connected with a harsh smack, knocking him back onto his ass. Kenny covered his mouth, keeping the explosive laughter from traveling to the field. It was enough for the teacher to actually look up, and yell orders at everyone. But, still under the bleachers, safely hidden from view behind a metal post, Kenny continued hitting the joint, enthralled by the fact that now Stan couldn't stop staring at him.

After another minute of lecturing from the laziest person on the field, Stan beelined for him. The other kids weren't oblivious to what Kenny was doing, they just didn't care. It was typical McCormick shit, everyone knew that.