A/N: So I found literally only one single Cartman x Bebe story on this entire website, and it's not even 350 words long... so I just had to go ahead and write one, thus doubling the amount of... uh... Cartbe, I guess?
Cartara? Bebman? Beberic?
Barbaric?

Whatever.
I apologize for any potential mistakes, I've been writing for a few years but English isn't my native language, and there's probably a bit of OOCness as well.

"Son of a bitch," Cartman growled as he trotted down the stairs with a baseball bat. Just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean some stupid asshole had the right to knock on his door at this hour!
The young boy opened the door, his expression rapidly changing from anger to surprise, then quickly back to anger.

"Bebe?"

"Fatass," the blonde girl acknowledged him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he growled, his grip tightening on the bat.

"Well," she looked around nervously, her eyes stopping on the weapon. "I, um-"

She was cut off as Cartman grabbed her arm, pulling her comparatively small body inside before slamming the door closed.

"It's freezing balls out there," he said, walking towards the couch and plopping himself down on it. "Anyway, what the hell are you doing here?"

The young girl took a seat next to a frowning Cartman, running a hand through her long curly bangs. "Kyle and I had a fight and-"

"Okay, can we skip to the point where I'm supposed to give a shit?" he interrupted, his tone not quite as harsh as he had intended.

"I'm getting there, fatass!" Bebe snarled.

"Well, get there faster, you skinny ho!"

"L-look, we had a bit to drink and we had a fight, that's really all there is to it."

Cartman stared her down for a few seconds before speaking. "Alright, Bebe. That's nice and everything, but I still don't see how the hell that has anything to do with me."

Before she could reply, he got up and grabbed her forearm, getting her up as well.
He pointed at her with a hand. "So screw you hippie," he then pointed at the door, "you're going home."

"I can't go home, Eric! That's why I'm here, I need a place to sleep."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because all the other girls are having a sleepover at Wendy's house, and I told my parents that I was going too, so that I could..."

"So you could go get yourself some Kosher meat?"

"ERIC!" she shouted in indignation. "Kyle and I never... wait, why are we even talk-"

"Hey, it's fine if you're a frigid bitch," he interrupted again, "but I don't care, so why don't you go and bother someone else?"

"Because as I said, all the other girls are at Wendy's, and... you're the only boy who wouldn't take Kyle's side."

"I wouldn't take yours either," he snorted.

"Why do you hate everyone, Eric?" her voice softened as she sat back down, letting out a sigh.

"I don't hate you, Bebe," he replied flatly.

"You don't?" she raised a confused eyebrow.

"No. I just really, really don't care."

She frowned.

"Why can't you go back home anyway?" he inquired. "Just tell your parents that Wendy is PMSing all over the place, it's not like that would be an exaggeration."

"Cartman, please! I've had a bit to drink, and I just... please! Please, let me spend the night here!"

"Okay, fine," he spat out, too tired and uninterested to keep arguing. It also felt sort of good to have a girl begging him for something. "Just crash on the couch or whatever, I don't care."

He strolled upstairs, muttering something about communism. Entering his room, he sat down on the bed before slipping under the covers, sighing in comfort.

Cartman awoke to some shuffling next to him, followed by the warmth of the covers being drawn away from him.

"AY," he shouted, "what the fuck are you doing?"

"It's too cold downstairs," Bebe simply said as she snuggled below the blankets.

"I said you could crash here but not in my bed, you dirty hippie!"

"Why not?" she asked calmly.

"I... because that's gay!" he blurted out, thrown off by her casual attitude.

"I'm a girl, dumbass."

"...whatever," he looked away. "You better not hog the covers. And keep your ho hands to yourself."

"Pfft," Bebe snorted, "as if I'd want to touch you!"

"Stupid skank," he muttered under his breath.

"Eric?"

...

"Eric?" Barbara asked a little louder.

"Goddammit, bitch! What do you want?"

"I'm cold."

"Well, I'm not."

"Because you're fat."

"Bebe. I'm seriously, if you- AY, WHAT THE HELL?"

The young girl had wrapped an arm around him, pulling herself closer to the large boy. Cartman or not, his body heat was unbelievable and she was not going to freeze to death.
Especially not in that asshole's bed.

"Barbara, I swear to God-"

"Will you just shut up?"

"I..." Cartman was at a loss for words. That skank had invited herself in his home, in his room, in his bed... and she was now ordering him around. And the worst part?
He couldn't bring himself to be truly pissed off.

"You're warm," she sighed into his side. Who knew Cartman was so snuggly?

"Dude... this is not kewl."

"I find it pretty kewl," she replied. "God, you're so huggable."

"AY!"

"That's a compliment, you asshole!"

"Whatever, dumb bitch."

She ignored him, hugging him tighter.

A few minutes had passed and Barbara's soft and steady breathing wasn't doing much to lull Cartman to sleep, nor to ease his discomfort. Since she'd first wrapped an arm around him, he had been feeling a very unfamiliar - but far from unpleasant - warmth in his chest. As good as the chubby teen felt, it was still too foreign of a feeling to be comfortable.

"Bebe?" he asked in an uncharacteristically shy tone.

"Hm, you're so warm~" she muttered happily, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

"Bebe, why am I feeling... good? Dammit, are you using some sort of freaky skank magic on me?"

"Shut up, tubby. I feel good too."

"You feel good... with me... you're in my bed, hugging me and feeling good about it."

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea what I could do with that information?"

"Yes," she cooed, her hot breath caressing his neck. "And you know what would be the best part if you tried anything?"

"No?" he admitted.

"Nobody would believe you~" she whipsered closer to his ear, making him shudder.

She had a point... besides, she was Kyle's girlfriend. He had every reason under the Sun (and then some) to try and make shit up about her.
...'Kyle's girlfriend', Cartman's mind replayed his thoughts for him. His archenemy's significant other was in his bed, hugging him.

"Holy shit, dude," he muttered to himself in realization before turning to face her, wrapping a larger arm around her petite frame.

"What are you doing, fatass?" she asked. She didn't think Cartman would try to hug her back, but she made no attempt to push him away. She felt far too warm nestled against him.

"Getting some of my body heat back, you Jew bitch."

"I'm not Jewish," she replied flatly.

"You're dating a Jew, that makes you, like, half-Jew."

She didn't reply. There was nothing to reply to that, anyway.

"Bebe, are you really drunk?"

"No... but I was tipsy enough for my parents to notice if I had tried to go home. Why are you asking?"

"No reason."

"Don't worry, I'll remember this tomorrow morning... whether I'll be happy about it or not is a different matter."

"Whatever, hippie... let's get some sleep," he yawned as he grabbed her hand, clutching it close to him.

Barbara was smiling, a similar feeling of warmth had also settled in her chest. A feeling that she hadn't felt with Kyle for a few weeks now...
Her hand, which Cartman had clutched tightly against his chest, was steadily moving up and down as he breathed. His eyes were softly closed and his expression was one of calm and serenity.
She had never seen Cartman like that.

'I could get used to this,' she thought.

"Bebe? Are you asleep?"

"...*snore*"

"You stupid hippie bitch..." he whispered.
The last time he had gotten any kind of female attention, the girl hadn't exactly come back for more... and that hurt far worse than not getting anything in the first place.
There was a reason why he hated Wendy Testaburger so vehemently.

"...will you still care in the morning?" he murmured, mostly to himself as his grip tightened a bit on her hand. The only reply he got was a soft snore.

Barbara awoke with a groan, rubbing her sleepy eyes before looking around. It wasn't the first time she had woken up in an unfamiliar room, but this time she could remember the previous night and the events that led her here.
She did drink a few glasses of wine, but she wasn't a lightweight, despite Cartman's assertions that she was a skinny ho.
Speaking of Cartman, where was he?

Before she could even think about getting up, the door opened and a large boy wearing a bathrobe entered, placing down on the bed a large tray. The bed shook as Cartman took a seat next to her, motioning to the tray.
On it were two glasses of milk and a large bowl... holy hell, that was a lot of oreos.

"Slept well, hippie?" Cartman asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

"I... yeah, I slept pretty well," Bebe replied honestly, grabbing an oreo and dunking it in the milk. "That's one hell of a breakfast, Cartman!"

"Bebe, I'm so seriously."

"No, no, I mean... I wasn't expecting that."

"What were you expecting? I would have made some bacon and eggs but I didn't know if you were actually a hippie."

"I'm not, but that's not what I..." she trailed off, looking outside the window as she munched on an oreo.

"What? Kyle never brought you breakfast in bed?"

"...no, he never did," she swallowed.

"What the hell? That dirty, good for nothing kike!" he spat out the last word, scooting closer to the girl.

"In his defense, we also never slept in the same bed."

"Why?" he asked with a mouthful of chocolate.

"We were going to last night, but... you know."

"Hm," he 'replied' contemplatively.

His arm brushed against hers as he went to grab another oreo.

"What did you two fight about, anyway?"

He felt her warm back pressing against his chest.

"I was tired of him spending so much time with Stan. It's the same for Wendy, they spend more time with each other than with their girlfriends... why do you think Wendy is always, um, how do you put it? 'PMSing'?"

She was practically sitting between his legs now.

"So that's why," Cartman snorted. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they're gay."

Her hair tickled his nose.

"That would explain a few things..."

She turned around.

"By the way, fatass," she pressed her lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss. His heart skipped a beat, the half-chewed food sitting still in his closed mouth as his face began to heat up.

"I still care."