Hi! My name is Kyman07. I love the pairing of Cartman and Kyle, from South Park (no shit, huh, Sherlock?) so I decided to attempt to write it. Just gonna point out now, Kyle in Chains and Waiting on an Enemy were major influences. They're both Kyman stories, and if you haven't read them, you aren't true Kyman fans, dickholes. ANYWAY. This story, in case you haven't already noticed, will contain major cussing, and eventually, uh, sexual themes. Yeh. So. Uh, they're probably fifteen here, maybe sixteen. Possibly even seventeen. I'll decide later. Okay. Enjoy. :) In Kahl's PoV. Cartman's too damn evil. He'd be hard.

Ever notice how when you fall asleep in class, it's a weird mix between a deep and conscious sleep? And you don't really dream, but it seems like you do because you can hear everything around you? And feel?

Speaking of feeling, something was poking me hard in the gut, and it also was yelling in my ear: "Jew. Jew! I'm talking to you!"

I was snapped from my sleep by a certain fat-ass. I looked up with blurry eyes, and wiped the crud out of them. "Ugh. Damnit, Cartman. Did you have to wake me? I don't wake you when you fall asleep in class, which is way more often than I do!"

His muddy brown eyes- that I've always hated so damn much- narrowed. "Well, someone's gotta do the work, don't they? And I'm not about to do it."

"You gotta do something, you lazy fat-ass. I'm not doing all the work again."

"I'm not doing shit, so unless you want an F, you'd better get working, Jew-rat."

Fucking bitch. Glaring at him with as much hatred as I could muster in my exhausted state, I glanced down at the paper in front of me. It was notes.

I snorted out loud. "How fucking hard is it to take notes, dickhead? You write down what the teacher says! You fucking moron!"

"I did a little, but then I got lazy!" he responded indignantly. He pointed at a corner of the paper, where it said his and I's names. His was on top, and mine was on bottom. Except, instead of my name- Kyle Broflovski- it said Jewrat Browhogivesafuck.

"Dude. Seriously? You're so fucking immature. They should send you back to third grade."

"No thanks. I don't wanna ever go back to Garrison's class. He's such a pervert. And he's a fag."

"So are you, fat-ass. You won't admit it, but I think you're just confused. No straight guy acts like you."

"What about you, fucking kike? You never have hit on a girl since Rebecca, in third grade!"

"I hit on Wendy once, while I was pissed at Stan! That's twice. But look at you- I've never seen you hit on a girl, not once! Even when Wendy kissed you in third grade, you just sat there like a stupid ass. And you always try to get guys to suck your balls! You're obviously gay!"

"It's just a saying, dickwad! Suck my balls! Just an insulting saying!"

"Dude. You chased me across the country to get me to suck your balls, and then you cunjured the image up in front of everyone. You're a fag."

Now he was starting to get whiny, which was actually kind of funny, but irritating, none the less. "No, I'm not, goddamnit! You're the fag, you dick!"

From nearby, Token muttered, "You're both fags."

Cartman turned on him, shouting, "Shut up, you fucking black piece of shit!"

"Eric Cartman!" our History teacher, Mr. Ross, mumbled, waking from a deep sleep. He's likely a hundred years old. "That language is extremely inappropriate in this classroom environment! Apologize to both Token and Kyle, Eric, or you'll be sent to the principal's office!"

"Do I give a fuck, you wrinkly bag of cat piss?" Cartman snapped, standing angrily. Everyone gasped a little. This was a lot, even for Cartman. "You can suck my balls, Mr. Ross, and maybe even choke on them and die at the same time!" As he said this, he looked at me. Probably to prove his point about it being just an insult.

I knew I needed to control my temper, but for whatever reason, his weird triumphant smile pissed me the fuck off, so I stood and shoved him roughly, my hands meeting his chest and making him fall back into his seat. His eyes were wide in surprise, even though he quickly grabbed the desk to stop his fall.

He probably figured I wouldn't go that far. I didn't think I would either.

"Wow, Kahl, I didn't know you had it in you! That was great! You're pretty strong!" He stood again, however, and I scowled. He was about three inches taller than me, standing at 5'10, I think. I'm 5'7. "But, kike, I'll have to beat your ass now."

He used to be a pussy, but now he'd beaten a few peoples asses. Not mine yet, though, and I wasn't about to change that. However, my pride was more important than having my ass kicked. Trembling, I managed, "Suck my balls, Cartman."

Cartman laughed and shook his head. "You just don't get it. Your head is too thick. Or maybe it's your jewfro. Maybe you should get it cut."

He was eyeing my red curls, a smirk evident on his face. I never wore my hat anymore, so they stuck wildly out of my head, bouncing every time I moved.

He was so evil, it was amazing. Hell, he'd easily put Hitler to shame with his evilness.

"I like my 'Jewfro', Cartman, so I don't plan on cutting it any time soon." My patient voice was forced. And he knew it.

"You should, though, kike."

He hardly ever used that word, but I think he'd said it three times in the last minute. It pissed me off. My patient voice disappeared as I shouted, "Stop calling me a kike, Cartman!"

"No, Jewrat! Kike, kike, kike!"

I grabbed his jacket in my fists and shove him against the wall. I may be shorter than him, but my temper is pretty damn fiery. Maybe I could get a lucky shot.

"Don't. Call. Me. That. Cartman." I grind out.

"Why not? Kike?"

I let out a frustrated scream and kneed him in the stomach. He immediately doubled over in pain, and I grinned like a madman and took the oppurtunity to nail him where it hurt- right in the balls- with my foot.

"Ow! Fuck, you fucking Jew! That fucking hurt!" he growled for a moment, before whimpering slightly and falling to the ground, hugging his knees. He hid his face, but I could just barely see his ears, and they were pink.

Oh my God. I- small, nerdy Kyle Broflovski- embarrassed Cartman in front of the whole class.

He was gonna kill me later.

Mr. Ross' voice barely registered to my ears. "Uh. Wow. Um, students, you can get back to work. Leave Eric alone. Kyle, please stay after class for a moment. You too, Eric."

I didn't even respond. I just stared at Cartman, who still was hugging his knees. His face was hidden, but I swore I heard muffled crying. Cartman, crying? The last time he ever cried was fifth grade, when he got kicked in the balls by Wendy. But that was the same crying he did when I punched him in Canada. A whining, child-like cry. This was a real cry. An emotionally shattered cry, instead of a physically pained cry.

I heard words being exchanged between two people, but I couldn't tell who. Until a familiar hand touched my shoulder. Stan.

"Dude, it's okay. It's just Cartman. He cries all the time when he gets hurt or embarrassed. No big deal. Get back to your work."

I couldn't respond. Suddenly the bell rang and everyone shoved passed me to get out, but I was still staring at Cartman, who remained motionless.

Finally, the class was empty. Now Cartman's cries were a little louder, but then he became silent. He must have realized he was making sound and didn't want to be caught in front of me. Too late.

Mr. Ross looked at the two of us, saying, "Eric, could you look at me? I want to talk to you too."

Cartman tensed, but then moved his face around a bit- probably trying to dry the tears- and looked up.

Oh my God. I was right. He was crying. Tears were welled up in his eyes, and his cheeks had wet tracks running down them. I'd never seen actual tears come out of him. I was amazed. Normally he just wailed like a baby.

"Principal Jones and I were discussing you two the other day, because I was worried. She said she also was. So we came to the agreement that if you got in a fight or argument one more time, we'd punish you."

"But Mr. Ross," I respond. "It's just our nature. Cartman and I will argue 'till we die. We're just like that."

Cartman snorted, and I was a little relieved he was back to his old self. "I'm not doing shit. You can punish my ass. However, Kahl, there's no fucking 'we' with you and me. Got it?"

"I didn't mean it like that, fat-ass. I-"

"Don't even start, you two," Mr. Ross warned us. "Let me finish."

Cartman rolled his eyes, and I looked at my teacher worriedly.

"We're going to call your parents, and as long as they agree, starting on Monday, you two will live together."

It's so absurd, Cartman and I both started laughing. Cartman wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes after several minutes and said, "Yeah, okay, Mr. Ross. Where the fuck do you have a house to keep us in?"

"My mother just moved in with me, because she's reached an age where it's difficult for her to take care of herself. So he left her house. She's about to sell it, but she agreed she'd be happy to let me use it for a bit."

Cartman laughed, but the color was draining from my face. I didn't think he realize Mr. Ross was serious yet. The fat bag of shit said, "Wait, you're, like, a hundred. How old is your mom?"

Mr. Ross' eyes narrowed. "I'm only sixty-eight. My mother is ninety."

"Damn! Time to put that bitch to sleep!"

Mr. Ross growled. "If I could suspend you, I would, you little bastard."

Cartman grinned. "Can I leave now? School is over, and I have places to be."

"Monday of next week is October first. Today is Friday. Next week you'll both move into my mother's house and stay there together. We don't care what you do to the place, just as long as you don't hurt each other."

I raised my hand but didn't wait for him to call on me. "Does killing each other count?"

Cartman snorted.

"Yes, it does. Now goodbye, boys. I'll see you Monday. I'll be calling your parents later."

"Cool. Bye," Cartman said, standing up and leaving the room. I looked at Mr. Ross pleadingly, but didn't get a reaction as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Mumbling quietly, I said, "Bye, Mr. Ross. Have a nice weekend," before leaving the room.

Our lockers were in alphabetical order, so Cartman's was four away from mine. I passed him as he was struggling to get his stuff out of his mess of a locker and fell to my knees to work at my own locker's combo. Cartman's slammed shut as I opened mine, and I thought he was walking down the hall, until I realized there was no footsteps. I looked up, and he was staring down at me. But, unlike most times he looked at me, his eyes weren't filled with hate. This was really weird, since I just kicked him in his precious balls. Oddly enough they were filled with something weird. Almost... appreciation. And admiration. And a bit of envy. It's a weird look either way. I'd never expect it from Cartman, of all people.

"My balls hurt like a motherfucker, but I am surprised you had the balls to actually kick me. Good job, Jew."

The world was ending. Eric Cartman just complemented me, and for kicking him in the balls.

"Uh. Yeah. Thanks. Why are you, uh, complementing me? I thought you hated me."

"I do. But might as well be nice, since we'll be, y'know, living together next week."

"To be honest, I'm not looking forward to that at all," I said, closing my locker and getting to my feet. "I mean, I don't want my dick cut off while I sleep or something."

He grinned. "I didn't even think of that. I'll have to do that."

"Ugh. Fatass."

"Jew."

I rolled my eyes and started walking towards the doors. The halls were empty. And Cartman was worrying me. He was actually being nice. It made no sense. Especially because I had just kicked him in the balls.

He reached the doors first and held them open for me. Now I was seriously scared. "Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you? You're being nice to me!"

"I just told you; you're gonna be my room mate, so I'll just stop being a dick to you for a while. So I don't piss you off. I don't trust you living with me in the first place, but if you're pissed at me, I'll have to watch my back even more."

Good logic, I guess, but I wasn't about to say it. "Oh. Okay."

We reached the school gates and slid out. Cartman got stuck for a minute, but I held back my laugh. I liked my body parts too, and I wanted to keep them. So I wasn't about to piss him off.

He pulled free and studied me for reaction, but I kept my face straight, and he quickly started walking again.

The walk was silent. Soon we reach the intersection where Cartman's house was on the right and mine was on the left, and with nothing but a brief nod to each other, we separated, heading our seperate ways.

As soon as I got home, I closed the door and leaned against it, saying aloud, "What the fuck just happened?"