Disclaimer: All places and characters referenced to the television show South Park are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

A/N: Special thanks to Heidi28 for this story idea.

"That was awesome, dude!" Stan sat his controller down.

"Yeah!" Kyle replied excitedly, "We just owned that dragon!"

"I know! That boss is actually kinda hard on single player but we totally just destroyed him!"

"I'm hungry," Stan stood up, "I think my mom said she ordered pizza, do you want a piece or three?" He laughed.

"Pepperoni?" Kyle asked as he sat his controller down next to Stan's.

"Of course, dude. My mom knows what we like!"

"Sure, I'll take a slice."

Stan left the room and returned shortly with two paper plates.

"Geez, Stan," Kyle commented, observing a plate stacked high with three slices of pizza and a pool of Ranch dressing.

"What?" He smirked as he handed Kyle his plate with a single slice on it, "I'm hungry!"

Kyle smiled as he shook his head.

In the time it took Kyle to eat his single slice, Stan had devoured all three of his.

"You ready to get back into the game?" Stan wiped his greasy hands on his pant legs before picking up his controller, "I bet we can beat level 15 tonight, that's the hardest level in the game!"

"Hold up! I need to take my blood sugar before we play some more," Kyle stopped Stan just before he unpaused the game.

"Oh… Right," Stan put his controller back down and intently watched Kyle as he pulled a small black case out of his overnight bag.

He unzipped the case and pulled out a small glucose meter as well as a thin, white strip and something that looked sort of like a pen.

He loaded the strip into the machine and placed the pen-like tool on his finger before pressing a button.

The snapping noise made Stan flinch.

Stan looked away as Kyle pushed on his finger, beading a small drop of blood and then placing it on the strip.

He looked back at Kyle when he heard the machine beep.

"Why do you have to do that again?" Stan questioned.

"Because I have diabetes, remember?"

"I know that!" Kyle's patronizing tone somewhat offended Stan, "I mean why do you have to check it all the time?"

"I have to check it so I know how much insulin I need."

"In-slen?" Stan had heard of it before, of course; but he was never really quite sure what it was.

"It's something that the pan-cree-is produces. It makes it so our bodies can use sugar. Our bodies can't use sugar right without insulin. Since I'm diabetic my pancreas doesn't make enough for me so I have to give it to myself like medicine when my blood sugar is high," Kyle responded pulling up his shirt slightly to reveal another small machine clipped to his waist, it had a tube running from it to under his shirt.

"And what's that thing again?" Stan pointed at the peculiar machine.

"This is my insulin pump," Kyle pushed a few buttons before raising his shirt past his stomach, exposing the entire apparatus of the tube going from the machine to what appeared to be a small, circular bandage on the side of his stomach.

"There's insulin in this thing," he pointed to the tube-shaped portion of the device, "And all I have to do is put how much I need based on whatever that other machine tells me here," he pointed to the digital interface, "And it goes right through this tube into here," he pointed to circular bandage where the tube inserted into his stomach.

"Does it hurt?" Stan was a little squeamish looking at the setup.

"Well… It does go in with kind of a thicker needle and even though that needle comes out, there's a little plastic tip or something on the end of the tube that keeps it in there which can be a little uncomfortable sometimes… I guess the worst part is I have to move it around every few days for some reason," he pointed out various red needle marks on both sides of his stomach.

"Why would you do that to yourself?" Stan asked, cringing at the thought of having a needle or, at least, something like a needle stuck in his side almost all of the time.

"Well it's either between this or giving myself like three shots a day or something… I had to do that for a long time, remember? This may not be great but it's a whole lot better than that. That sucked."

"I guess…," Stan conceded, figuring he would most likely choose the same option.

"How about the other thing, does that hurt?"

"The finger prick?" Kyle clarified.

"Yeah."

"It just feels like a little pin prick."

"But does it hurt?" Stan reiterated.

"Not really. Paper cuts hurt like 100 times worse."

He could see the skeptical look on Stan's face.

"You don't believe me?" He paused, "I'll show you."

Stan looked up at his super best friend, "How…?"

"I'll take your blood sugar!" Kyle smiled as he loaded a fresh needle into the pen.

Stan felt his heart instantly start beating faster. He hated needles, he hated blood...

"I don't know, Kyle…"

"Come on, dude! I'm telling you it doesn't hurt and you obviously don't believe me. The only way you'll ever know is if I show you."

Stan fidgeted nervously.

"You trust me, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Then come over here," he patted the floor beside him, "I promise you'll be okay."

Reluctantly, Stan nodded and scooted across the floor right in front of Kyle.

"Okay, so give me your hand," Kyle extended his.

Stan held out his right hand, palm up. It was shaking.

"If you're that upset I don't have to do it," Kyle steadied his hand, "It's okay. I just thought that this would be the best way since it's kinda hard to explain."

"No," Stan said as he took a deep breath, "It's alright…"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Kyle ripped open a clean alcohol swab and rubbed it over Stan's index finger for a few seconds.

The cold swab sent a shiver up his spine.

"You ready?" Kyle asked after inserting a fresh strip into the machine and picking up the pen.

"I guess…"

"Okay. I'll count to three before I do it."

Stan closed his eyes tight.

"One… Two… Three," the snapping noise made Stan jump again.

He could feel Kyle gently putting pressure on his finger before touching the strip to it.

"See? That didn't hurt right?"

Stan opened his eyes. They were teary, more from angst than anything else.

"It didn't hurt," he wiped his eyes with his left hand.

"I told you!"

He looked down at his right hand, another fresh bead of blood was forming on his index finger.

The sight of blood made him woozy.

Kyle wiped it with the alcohol swab a few more times before placing a small bandaid over it.

"Your blood pressure must be high or something," Kyle laughed, "It's generally hard to even get one drop out of that poke, let alone two or more."

Stan tried to laugh.

Kyle picked up the meter and read Stan's result.

"147 milligrams per deciliter."

"What does that mean?"

"That mean's your blood sugar is a little high but it's okay considering all the stuff you just ate."

After a few minutes of silence Stan had another question.

"So… How does a person get diabetes?"

"Well…," Kyle began, "There are two types; type one and type two. Type one is what I have, I was just born with it. Type two is something people get from dipping three slices of pizza in Ranch dressing every time we have a sleepover."

"Fine! I'll only have two slices next time!" Stan chuckled.

"I guess that's a start," Kyle acknowledged.