I Despise You

An old lemon-y slash one-shot. Done with (Deviantart:) Urimic, (Tumblr:) ijustwanttoberemembered.

I do not own South Park.

Summary: Stan and Gregory are assigned a project together and their hatred for each other grows more intense and takes the next step.

Rated: M (For violence, sexual things.)

Pairing: Gregory/Stan

Why his teacher, Mr. Garrison, ever thought it a good idea to pair him up with Stanley was beyond him. Wasn't it obvious there was some obvious negative feelings on both of their behalves? Whatever the reason, Gregory was now headed towards the Marsh household begrudgingly and very irritated.

Stan grit his teeth and bared through the annoying presence of the other human. Unfortunately, he had no choice on whether he could be around Gregory or not and this was the 5th time they'd met. Every time, the tension grew between them and last time, a very heated argument sparked something between them. That sent them into a vicious frenzy of yelling for about five minutes before the two had ended up making out with Greg pinned between Stanley and the wall. Now, instead of just weird feeling anger, it was also really awkward and neither spoke the entire way.

As far as he was concerned, there last encounter had never happened. It was better to not remember such things, but even he could feel the tension in the air. Gregory knew that it had much to do with their last very...heated argument. Things had scaled out of his control far too quickly and the memory brought on very a very awkward air. They approached Stan's house and he waited for him to open the door. Better to keep talking to as minimum as possible.

The raven took out the key from his back pocket and shoved it in the lock, twisting it before yanking it out and opening the door to an empty home. He mumbled for Gregory to shut the door, obvious annoyance in his voice as he threw his backpack on his couch and sat beside it, saying nothing else to the other. His yes stayed on the book he slid from his bag, ignoring the nearby blonde and not even making close to eye contact. Stan opened it and only spoke when he was positive he would speak about their project, "Did you do that shit I asked you to do from yesterday?"

Almost subconsciously he closed the door a little harder than would be needed, taking the opposite end of the couch. He retrieved his own things from the bag, ignoring his surroundings and the even more annoying presence of one Stanley Marsh. Just being at his home made him even more frustrated. Keeping his eyes on his own work he replied, "Yes, I did, Stanley. Did you do your part?"

"Of course I did, Gregory." He mocked, shooting him a glare. "Let's just get this over with. I don't want to spend anymore time with you then I have to." He scribbled something down on the paper and nibbled at the side of the pencil softly, focusing his attention on thee page till the other would respond or say something else.

He looked up at him with an unamused expression and a frown. "No need to be rude, Stan." He emphasized his name when he spoke. "You act as if I'm any happier to be in your home for an extended period of time with you." Gregory looked back down at his notebook and scrawled something in quickly. So short a time and the sparks were already flying. That was just...wonderful...

"I'm not being rude," He scoffed, baring his teeth in a snarl. "You're the on who's being rude. Slamming my door and being a dick to me already. I'm don't give a shit about how you will feel here, man. So shut up. Your voice is grating." Stan rolled his eyes, feeling the air heating up and his voice raising as he spoke.

"If I am to recall correctly, it was you who mocked me first, Stanley. I'm only doing my part in repaying the favor." He smirked in response, putting down his things and leaning back, giving the other all his attention. "So I closed the door a little harder than normal. Things like accidents do happen, you know?"

"Not when the accidents belong to you. You are very polite and would never slam that door, but you did. Don't slam it, not return the favor of mocking to me, you dick." He set his own books down on the ground, laughing dryly and without humor. "Go off and fuck Christophe. Jesus. You're so stuck up and annoying. You need to get yourself laid before you die from being to prude and snooty and bitchy. You're almost as bad as Kyle when he's PMSing. Except you do all the time."

He snarled at the dark haired teen, growing angrier. "Don't bring him into this." He took a deep breath, composing himself. "I'm PMSing? Well, it very well beats having an alcoholism problem and hardly being able to keep a steady relationship between you and Wendy." He grinned at Stan.

"You know what, shut the fuck up! You can't say anything, faggot! I'm not the one who started what happened yesterday. That was you! The rest doesn't even matter. I don't want a steady relationship with her, because I hardly want to date her anymore, Gregory. You don't know anything and I don't drink that much, you ass-wipe! So shove it up you ass and mind your own business." He was standing now, eyes narrowed in a fierce disposition as he watched the other, flaming.

"Me? I didn't start anything! You're the one who started and if you don't care about Wendy, why do you always get so angry when I hang out with her? Hmm, Stanley?" He met the others anger with his own, eyes glaring and mouth twisted into a grimace.

"I... I don't know! Shut up! You always start everything. You slammed my door! I could call the cops on you! That's a misuse of my property!" His hands curled up in fists, feeling like an idiot, but he didn't back off. Sure, he had passing grades, enough to play on the football team, but he, wasn't as smart as Gregory. Not even close. But... He was much stronger and could kick the dude's ass as if he were a pillow.

"Oh no what will I say? I'm so sorry officer, my hand just slipped and I managed to close the Marsh household's door with just a smidgen more of force than I meant to. Please arrest me." He mocked him, smirking up at Stan. "Honestly, how much more daft could you get, Stanley? You must not need very good grades to stay on the football team. Or is it that you get Kyle to do your work or go to him for help?" Gregory's eyes glanced at Stan's balled up fists. The football player could very easily beat the crap out of him, but no matter how often the thought popped into his head each time they fought, he would continue to egg on the dark haired teen.

Stan was pissed now, eyes narrowing even more and eyebrows furrowing immensely. "You dick. I would never take advantage of Kyle like that! He's my friend! I do my own work! I'm not STUPID!" The teen growled lowly, his hair falling slightly over his burning eyes as he spoke with a certain anger only Gregory would know. No one ever made him this made or gave him all these intense feelings. He could never fit into one emotion, but they always seemed to fall into hate or anger and that, he was fine with. Nothing could stop him when he got mad with Gregory, except, of course, the cause of it all himself. If h told him to stop yelling or hurting him, seriously, then he would. He never did though, even if it had only happened a few times. Maybe it was pride... or he just liked it. It didn't matter though. It seemed that Stan began to look forward to their time together over the months. It was sad really, but their hateful relationship was one of the ones he loved the most and would keep it this way for now.

"Could have easily fooled me." He met the furious gaze with a cheeky smile, making himself comfortable. His relationship with Stan was an interesting one. They both loathed each other, one pushing the other over the edge at all possible isolated encounters. They both always managed to end up furious with each other. More so with the longer the time they spent together was. The blonde no matter how annoyed to have to spend any time with Stan, somehow also looked forward to it. It was a great way to relieve himself of pent up stress and anger. The kind he could only take out on the raven haired teen and expect to receive in return.

His hands fisted into the blonde's orange shirt, yanking him up to his eye level and giving him an extremely serious expression. "I will beat the shit out of you, if you don't shut your face right fucking know, you stupid ass-fucking cunt. I will rip off your balls and shove them down your throat, you hear me? You know I can, Gregory. Stop fucking with me. Right now. I hate you. You hate me. Let's compromise and just stop now or we may both regret things." Stan gripped his shirt tighter, "I would regret killing you, I'm sure, because who else would I fuck up?"

He placed his hands on Stan's wrists, fingers winding tightly onto them and snarled. "Let me go, Stanley. As interesting as your offer sounds, I don't give a shit. I'd be amazed to actually see you grow a pair and go through with your word, but as we all know, you're just a fucking pussy." Gregory glared harshly into the teen's face, digging in his nails into Stan's arms. "I'd like to see the animal activist, former Goth kid, actually try and fucking do something. Entertain me, Stanley."

"Are you sure?" He grinned, almost manically, tightening his grip on the smaller wrists in his strong hands. The nails in his arm were hardly a pinch, but he registered it and liked it, trying to get the other to dig them deeper with an intimidating dare in his eyes. The teen gave him a chance to answer.

He winced, darting his eyes to his confined wrists and back to the others face, narrowing with furious intent. "Absolutely." To make his point clearer he dug in his nails harder, meeting Stan's grinning face with an enraged scowl.

A soft grunt left his lips, "Wonderful," At that word, he let go and jammed his knee into the smaller one's, fist connecting with his jaw. Stan cracked his knuckles as he knocked the other back onto the couch. "You may be agile, but you won't be able to get out of this one, Gregory." He yanked him back up to his feet, watching his expression. Something told him to to damage that pretty face anymore, so he didn't and wouldn't.

He grunted in pain, shutting his eyes for a moment and covering the soon to be bruise with his hand. When the blonde was pulled back up his eyes snapped open, glaring and flinching back when he moved his jaw in a way that hurt. "Congrats, you're...not a little bitch." Gregory breathed hard as adrenaline rushed into his bloodstream. He was fucking furious.

"You thought I was a little bitch, Gregory? Well, do I need to prove it anymore?" He gripped him by the throat, squeezing tightly and digging his fingers into the soft flesh. Stan leaned in close, lips besides the teen's ear, "Or do you still not believe me and I will have to show you how much greater I am then you..?" He could feel his hair on end, body on fire, blood pumping, and body begging to slam it's fist right into his stomach, to hurt him more.

He choked on his breath, hands finding their way immediately to Stan's hand, fingers clawing desperately to remove it. His eyes burned with unconstrained anger at the raven haired teen. Stupid fucking football players, trained to be mindless muscle monkeys. Gregory kicked at the others shins, desperation kicking into his need for air.

"Aww, how cute," He watched him struggle for a bit before dropping him onto the couch with huff of air and a slight satisfied grin. "You know Gregory, i know you probably get off on all of this, but I am happy to do it for you. It's hilarious watching the person I hate so immensely to struggle and freak out like this. I always grow fond of the way you fight back and act like a fucking pussy. I man, you are the biggest pussy I have ever met. I've never met anyone more pathetic then you, besides Butters. And he's gay. Do you know what that says about you, Mr. Attitude? Nothing good." Stan leaned down to his eye level, "And I don't think it gives me that good of a look when I have been working with you for the past 2 weeks. Do you know what people must think of me? They must think me as low as you! Ha."

He went into a fit of coughing, rubbing at his throat. "F-fuck you, Stanley." He coughed some more, grimacing and staring right into Stan's face. "Don't fucking compare me to Butters. Last I checked the o-only reason people pay attention to you is because you joined in a sport built for bumbling idiots like you." He growled out the words, making the blonde cough a few more times. "If anything, Mr. Garrison pairs us off together to make you look at the very least like someone who is capable of thought and has some mental capacity."

"He does not. I was popular even before football. You showed up pretty late, asshole, so shut the fuck up!" Stan grabbed him again, yanking him violently up and smirking as he dislocated the others shoulder, before popping it back in for him. Listening to his pained cry. "Yeah, sorry I did that. I'm so clumsy. After all, this bumbling idiot doesn't know shit." He slammed him up against the wall, gritting his teeth, yesterday's memory far gone from his mind as he walked to the kitchen. He grabbed a cup and got water for himself, not bothering to listening to the others coughing.

His teeth clenched, eyes shutting tight as he sat slumped against the wall holding his shoulder. Holy fuck, that hurt. He was trembling, god dammit! The temptation to just leave, was high, but the blonde knew that that was like giving in and letting Stan win and there was just no way in hell he would do that. Gregory stood up, feeling the bruise on his knee from before and went back to sitting on the couch. Eyes still closed and his breathing sounded raspy. Why'd the asshole have to get so strong? His head fell back on the couch as he thought.

After a moment, he walked back into the room, watching him from the door. "I took your breath away, didn't I? I'm just that amazing. It's hard sometimes to handle it all. I'm surprised you aren't more fucked up then this. Most off the girls would be swooning if I pushed them up against the wall, but honestly, the chicks in our school aren't all to great. I mean, there's Bebe, but her tits are really only the good thing about her. I mean, have you seen those things? They are impressive!" Stan chuckled at his own conversation, before sitting down on the couch again. He'd left his cup in the kitchen, not wanting to bring glass into this situation or worse might happen.

"Shut the...fuck up, Stanley... You insufferable sack of shit." He tilted his head in the direction of the dark haired teen, glaring weakly. "You're just like everyone else at that fucking school of yours. Followers and mindless. You were worth more of my respect in the fourth grade. Then, at least, you were you're own person. Now you're just a clone. The goth kids won't even talk to you anymore." He laughed dryly at the others expense.

Stan gave him a narrowed glare back, "What do you even know about me? I haven't talked to you since fourth grade before this project. You're probably just jealous of me, because Wendy cared, and still cares, more about me. I am my own person. I am more of my own person then you will ever know." He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the other, sighing to remain as calm as he could right now. If thee other pissed him off again, honestly, he wasn't sure what he would do.

"Oh, am I so jealous of you, Stanley Marsh. From what I've seen since I've come back, you and Wendy hardly give a rat's ass about each other. She's been around me more than you. Again. She still care more about you? Tell me than Stanley, what makes you your own person? What makes you "you're own person." I may have been around for some time, but compared to fourth grade, you're life is so depressingly boring. Admit it, I'm the first sign of any entertainment you've seen in some time." He smiled smugly at Stan.

"No, actually, you're right. My life has been total shit. My parents hate each other, my sister is gone and I'm depressed and the world sucks. Are you fucking happy now? Maybe the reason why I have no entertainment in my life, is because I don't want it, hmm? There's nothing that isn't shit to me. Nothing. Got that? And you don't change anything! You just make me hate the world more for being so god damned confusing and awful. And you have no clue how much I hate you for it. I disliked you before, but your shit here has made me despise you. And, you don't deserve to know what makes me my own person. If you had actually cared, you would have been my friend, like Kyle or Kenny. They are the only ones who know anything about me, you fucking asshole!"

The blonde looked away and rolled his eyes. "Stop being so melodramatic, Stanley. It's unbecoming of you. The world is shit and you learn to cope and if it makes you feel any better, I absolutely fucking loathe you're existence. You're right though, I don't care and I'm not here to care. I wouldn't waste my time caring on a pathetic piece of shit for a human like you."

With that, he'd had enough. Stan stood up, grabbed him by the hair and slammed down the blonde onto the floor. He pinned him down harshly by straddling his chest and holding down his shoulders with his knees. The larger one sent him down an evil look, spitting on his face and snarling. "Who're you calling a piece of shit, you pathetic loser? I doubt anyone even enjoys your presence, either. Wendy hangs out with you out of pity. The whole school thinks you're a fag, and I'll tell them anything they want to hear. They all listen to my every word. They bow at my feet." He emphasized that with a strong punch to his face, not caring any more. "No one bows at your feet do they? People bow at the president's feet. At a dictator's feet. At the feet of someone who matters a whole fucking lot, they don't have to be liked. Oh, and guess who matters a whole fucking lot? ME. Not you." Another punch to the gut this time, "You will never matter." Stan moved off of his shoulders, hand gripping those soft blonde locks again and yanking roughly. He started viciously beating him, too angry to stop, but being sure to avoid his face the best he could now.

He cried out in pain with the weight of Stan on his shoulder. When the first punch landed he yelled out, trying to free his uninjured arm to cover himself against the onslaught of punches. only to be pulled on painfully by the hair and have himself introduced to Stan's fist over and over again. Gregory felt like he was going to pass out. Shit he was fairly positive. "Th-then...ngh! K...Kill me, Stan!" He said he'd do it and...He was right in some sense. He didn't matter. Not to the people here. Fuck! No, fuck that, he wasn't going to be god damn maudlin because of something that this asshole said! That was bullshit! He balled his hand into a fist, swinging wildly and connecting with some part of the better built teen.

"It'd be my pleasure to kill you, but honestly, I'd rather watch you suffer," He panted out, enjoying the sight below him, but grunting as something his him and he realized it was a fist. Oh no. He couldn't have that. Stan stopped and pinned down the others wrists, panting lightly above him as he stared down angrily at Gregory. Stan glared at him, blinking a few times as he tried to calm down, but it didn't work and his adrenaline kept flowing.

He stared back up at him, chest rising and falling with every deep breath he took. "Fucking...let me go...Stanley!" The smaller one, squirmed and bucked, biting down on his lip when pain shot through him.

"No." His answer was simple as he caught his eyes with the blonde's and practically stared into his soul. Stan felt his heart pretty much lurch from his chest, causing him to grip those thin wrists tighter and grit his teeth harder. Something wasn't right. This had happened yesterday too. This weird feeling he couldn't find a name for.

His fingers twitched with the added pressure on his wrists. He stared up into Stan's eyes, defiant, pausing for a moment and then trying fruitlessly to buck him off until he was too tired to try anymore. "Let...go." This was reaching yesterday's territory uncomfortably fast. Gregory could feel the same build up that had led to the previous day's make out.

He shook his head slightly and a small, hardly noticeable smirk crept onto his lips. "Payback." Stan held both of the blonde's wrists in one head and tangled the other hand in his enemies hair before kissing him harshly and clacking their teeth together. His force made part of Gregory's lips break open and the blood dripped from it, but Stan's tongue darted out to lick it away and bite him harshly.

He recoiled from the kissing, hating the feeling of his teeth smacking into Stan's, but he was distracted from it for a moment when he felt his lip split. The tongue that darted to clean it up and the teeth that followed were what caused him to lose focus. The blonde, pushed his lips into a bruising kiss against the raven haired teen's own.

He groaned softly, tongue massaging at his lips and pushing to demand entrance. Stan pressed his tongue in farther past his lips, trying to taste all of him. "Mmh..." His hand slid down his neck, holding him tightly, but not getting too violent. Surprisingly, he had no reason to be to rough at first, but it slowly grew as his need for the other did. The raven let go of his wrists and rested his palms on the thin hips below him.

One hand quickly found its way to Stan's shoulder, but he had no urge to push him off. He just kept it there, holding on. His injured one, resting on the ground beside him. The blonde pressed his tongue to meet the others, tasting the blood from his lip when he did and moaned softly.

His hand ran along his thigh and slid along the front of his pants, groping him harshly and taking it farther then yesterday. He slid a finger down the buttons on his shirt, wanting to get them undone, but struggling slightly. The heat built up in his body and coiled inside him slowly. Stan loved the feel of Gregory's skin under his hands and his made him shudder in delight. His tongue roamed deep in his mouth, running along the others before he pulled away and bit along his neck harshly, leaving a bruise every time.

His tongue ran along his neck, ravaging his skin greedily. Stan fingered the zipper of the others pants, finally getting the zipper down and the button undone, looking down to only then notice how hard both of them were already. "Mmmh, god damn, Greg, you're really sexy..." Stan's eyes ran along his body, bottom to top.

He whimpered, looking up at him when he spoke. "Even all bruised up?" He chuckled humorlessly. "That shit really hurt, Stanley." Gregory's hand reached up, tangling into the black hair and pulling the owner down by it to crash his lips roughly on Stan's. When he pulled back he smirked. "Can't say I'm disappointed with your looks, either, though..." The blonde's own eyes ran hungrily along the others form. "Even with the bruises. You deserved some of them, though. Well, most of them."

Wow, so I fixed this up the best I could without changing much.

Anyway, please review.