/DISCLAIMER I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK/ This is my first finished story :3. Feedback would be great. I don't know about you but I think these two are a very cute pair ;).
Sometimes it's good to be a conformist.
They sat leaning against her bedpost, both taking drag from their cigarettes.
Pete and Firkle had been dragged away by their families a few hours before.
Michael went to butt out his cigarette in the scarlet ashtray sitting between the two young goths. He leant for another, then realising Henrietta had taken them.
"Hey, can I have another?"
She looked towards him, her heavy black eyes seemingly drilling into Michael. "I've got better plans..." She looked strait into his eyes, studying them.
"What the hell are y-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Henrietta lunged forward, pushing him against her painted black desk. Michael started to fight as their lips pressed together, but then found himself relaxing more and more into it. He could taste the hot ash on her lips. He tried to enjoy it as much as could before they pulled apart. Michael tried to understand what had just happened, while Henrietta, seemingly undisturbed, reached for her coffee on the desk.
"You two are such conformists." Pete stood at the door with widened eyes. In one hand he had a cup of coffee and in the other he held a box of cigarettes.
Henrietta stood up, took the box and threw it to Michael, who still had a look of horror on his face.
"Sometimes it's good to be a conformist."