disclaimer; I don't own south park!

Love Wins

It was a typical day in the small mountain town in Colorado.

The sun was shining but did nothing to palliate the piles of snow scattered all over the ground. Cars drove on the street silently. The police were sitting around drinking coffee, waiting for a case. Someone was probably getting a sex change somewhere.

Oh, and Eric Cartman was pissed off.

His chubby hands shoved in the pockets of his red winter coat, and his head down to the ground as he walked to the bus stop, mumbling incoherently.

His mother had managed to get under his skin in the past, but this time she really did it.

He knew he wasn't the best behaved kid in the world. It wasn't his goal to be. But to treat him like some mutt? It was degrading. He felt genuine hate and anger burning inside of his heart.

He took his usual stance when he reached the bus stop, the last of the four to show up usually, standing off far to his left. It was quiet. The dirty blonde didn't like it. He'd have normally had some new funny story or something interesting he had heard on the news to share. But not today. Not for awhile, if he lasted that long. He didn't like the silence. But he couldn't force himself to speak.

His brown eyes averted to the other three boys standing beside him, their attention straight ahead, quietly waiting for the school bus. Stan's hands were hiding in his pocket, on account of him losing his red gloves a couple days ago. Kyle was impatiently tapping his foot onto the snow-covered ground, Cartman figrued he probably got ready too early and was the first to get here. Kenny seemed bored, eyes wandering around across the street. There was probably some hot chick in the window at the business nearby.

There was no way he could survive if they knew what was happening to him, what he was going through. Not only was it inhuman, but Cartman's pride was important to him. It was unusual for something to actually get him feeling like shit.

He would just have to put on a happy face and hope nobody found out.

"Why the hell are you staring at us?" The Jew's voice interrupted Cartman's thoughts.

It caught the larger boy off guard. "What?"

"Why are you staring at us?" Kyle asked again, stretching each word out some more for emphasis, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Cartman mentally panicked. What the hell? He had never panicked like this before.

"I was just thinking...," Cartman started, desperately trying to conjure up a quick cover. "With that nose, you must be able to smell a predator a mile away. Guess you won't have to worry about getting ambushed if WWIII happens."

Please just carry on.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Cartman!"

Thank God.

"Dude. You have your mother's nose," he continued casually.

"You're calling my nose big? Have you ever looked in a mirror? Then you'd see what big really is!"

"I'm not fat, Jew!"

"Come up with a new phrase, jackass!"

As usual, Stan and Kenny remained silent while the other two bickered. Stan's shoulders could be seen rising and lowering slowly, letting out a quiet sigh. Kenny seemed uninterested overall.

It continued this way until the bus finally arrived, as the four kids piled inside. Stan and Kyle sat together in the same seat. The redhead was ever so slightly leaning onto the raven haired kid's shoulder. It was subtle enough to where they could pass it off as nothing if someone were to ask, but to the common eye, it was pretty obvious that it was out of affection for Stan.

Cartman sat in the back of the bus, disgusted at the sight before him. It made his stomach churn and he felt the urge to puke.

Pricks. Fucking faggy pricks, he thought darkly.

I hate them.

I hate everything.

It was going to be a long day at school. Thank God it was the last day before Winter break.


"I'm running away!" Cartman cried angrily to his mother and the jackass Caesar.

It had gone to far. Hell no, it had gone to infinity and beyond by now.

He quickly stuffed his backpack with a few of his personal essentials, some of his Wellington Bear equipment, a couple of shirts, some snacks and Clyde Frog.

He swung the bag over his shoulder as he headed for the door, stopping to take one last look back at the two adults, who didn't seem at all fazed by his threat. He blinked at them in disbelief, "aren't you going to try and stop me?"

Mrs. Cartman remained quiet for a moment, before looking over to the Hispanic man, like a kid at the doctor eying their parents for answers.

"No, go right on ahead." He said simply.

Cartman's mouth fell open. "You're seriously just gonna let me walk out the door, into the cold?! What the hell kind of mother are you?!"

He knew that kind of tone was exactly what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. But he couldn't help himself, this is just the way he was born and raised! It wasn't his fault she was a shitty mother!

When said woman continued to remain quiet, Cartman felt the horrible sting of tears in his big brown eyes.

"F-Fine. Bye, bitch."

And with that, he was out the door.

"Don't worry, he'll be back, it's all part of the plan." Caesar told the mother reassuringly.

x.x.x

Cartman angrily wiped at his tears as he walked down the sidewalk, the only warmth emitting from the sun slowly fading away as it was setting behind the mountains in the distance. He deemed it useless as they only continued to spill down his cheeks, and put his arms to better use; huddling himself together in an attempt to keep warm. He could see the shakiness in his breath when it emitted into a visible stance in the 20 degree air.

All he wanted to do was get out of the house. But where the hell was he supposed to go now? He couldn't spend the night out here, he would freeze to death for sure.

Kenny's house?

No fucking way, they're too poor. Cartman would rather die.

And there's no way he was going to the Jew's house. Even if he wanted to, he already knew the heartless bastard would never let him in to stay the night.

He would feel awkward as hell in Butters' house, his parents were such hardasses. He could go to Craig, Token, Clyde, or Tweek, but he didn't consider them friends. He didn't want pity from a stranger.

He didn't want pity at all. But he needed it right now.

There was only one person he thought it somewhat reasonable to approach.

Stan.

He made his way to the Marsh residence, stopping at the front door. He lifted his chubby fist to knock on the door, but it froze, his mind continuing to fathom whether he should just turn around and go home.

No. This is a battle of willpower. I'm not letting my bitch of a mother do me like that. She doesn't even want me there.

He felt the sting of tears in his eyes again.

Damn it!

He refused to let anyone see him in this state, even the friend he tended to be the nicest to. Sure, Stan was a hippie, loved animals too fucking much, wasted some of his video game time playing football and had "emo hair", and was ignorant to his gayness in Cartman's eyes, he laid off Stan. He suffered enough with his dumbass of a father and abusive bitch of a sister. His mother was okay, but it still didn't help Stan's situation.

As he wiped the last of his tears away, he felt his heart stop as the door knob suddenly turned before he even started knocking. The door was opened, revealing the raven haired Stan Marsh, carrying a large trash bag over his shoulder. They were both gazing at each other in equal shock.

Cartman silently prayed that Stan didn't see him crying, or could sense the hint that he had been crying. It seemed to go unnoticed, to his relief.

"What are you doing here, Cartman?" Stan asked, genuinely confused.

"Um...," Cartman sighed, getting right to the point. "I need a place to crash."

The hippie blinked, setting down the trash bag for now and deciding to get the stupid, but most important question out of the way. "Why can't you just sleep at your house?"

"I just... can't be around my mom right now." Cartman admitted, his fingers fiddling in his sleeves. He hated having to explain himself. Couldn't the bastard just see he was upset, and cold, and let him in?

No, he couldn't. Because he was best friends with that fucking Jew Kyle, and would use it against him to reject him.

"Well, sure, I guess."

...or not.

"What?" Cartman asked in disbelief.

Stan stepped aside, clearing the doorway for the larger boy. "Come in."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You mean it?"

"Just get your ass in here," Stan said, rolling his eyes.

"Right." Cartman didn't want to miss his chance. He readjusted his backpack to fit comfortably around his shoulder as he hurried inside, humming happily at the warmth that hit him. Stan took a moment to take the trash out before joining Cartman inside, shutting the door and brushing the snow off himself.

"You can set your stuff down by the closet," Stan commented, before walking into the kitchen.

Cartman did as Stan suggested, shrugging off his red coat and tossing it on top of his bag. Something smelled really good. He followed Stan into the kitchen.

"Mom, Cartman is here." The black haired-boy informed his mother.

Said woman turned her attention from the stove and turned to look at Cartman.

"Oh, hello, Eric," she greeted politely, but it was evident she was slightly annoyed as she then eyed Stan. "Stanley, you didn't tell me you were having a guest." She said condescendingly.

"I'm telling you now," Stan said, annoyance evidence in his tone as well.

Sharon had to bite back a snap, not wanting to bicker in front of a guest. "Well, get washed up and sit down," she said, forcing herself to maintain her composure. "Dinner is almost ready. We're having spaghetti and garlic toast."

Cartman perked up at that.

Yeah. Much better than pop-tarts or whatever the hell Jews eat.

Stan climbed up onto a chair, opening a comic book and reading it. Cartman took the seat next to him.

"Didn't she say to get washed up or something stupid like that?" Cartman asked, trying to be a nice house guest. The last thing he wanted was to get thrown out of the only decent place he could hope to be staying.

Stan simply shrugged, his eyes not leaving the comic. "We're just gonna get messy while we eat anyway."

"Huh. Yeah." Cartman said, liking Stan's logic. He snickered slightly at the slight rebellious feeling. He missed it.


The food was delicious, and it wasn't awkward as hell as they ate. Sharon and Shelley were eating at the table, while Cartman and Stan found themselves eating on the couch in front of the T.V. Randy had returned home from work at some point, and disappeared upstairs. When they were finished, they thrusted their dishes to Sharon, who disapproved, but let it slide.

They spent the rest of the night just hanging out, thankful they were out of school for awhile. They played games on his Xbox, watched some funny rated-R movies as they snacked on popcorn and chips, read comic books.

Cartman found himself having a great time. He never spent time with Stan alone. It was always the four of them, or just Kenny. And usually by now, Kyle would have said something to set him off, or he would've grown bored and deliberately got Kyle going into an argument for the hell of it, ruining every play-date.

But they were having a good time. Playing. And laughing. Cartman never saw Stan like this before. He was always seemed to be hopped up on subtle depression, or he was with Kyle, so Cartman avoided him.

He found that he liked hanging out with Stan.

Why didn't he do it more often?

x.x.x

It wasn't until about 3 a.m. when they got tired and decided it was best to hit the hay

"There's not much room on my bed, it's barely big enough to hold me anymore," Stan half-pointed out, half-complained. "You can sleep on the couch. It's probably more comfortably than my floor. Be right back."

As the smaller boy trotted up the stairs to get some pillows and blankets, Cartman threw himself down on the couch. He noted how comfortable it was earlier, but laying on it was something else. He liked it better than his own bed at home. He couldn't help the small smile that formed on his face. The temporary anger he felt in his heart had been palliated somehow.

What the hell am I doing? Cartman thought. Thinking like this. I'm turning into a hippie cock bitch fag.

Well, that's not a nice thing to...

Wait, since when do I care about being nice?

Ugh. Shit, fuck. Damn it.

Stan came back a minute later, arms full of pillows and blankets. He had brought more than needed, but he wanted to be a good host and make sure Cartman had everything he needed.

He knew Cartman was generally an ass, but Stan had accepted it a long time ago. He wasn't really fazed by Cartman's words or actions anymore, and that was probably part of the reason Cartman didn't rip on him. If that was true, Stan would like to keep it that way. He tried to pass his ways onto Kyle, but no matter how hard the redhead tried, he always got mad and lashed back at Cartman for whatever he said or did.

Stan couldn't figure out why they couldn't just chill out.

Cartman nuzzled into the couch comfortably as Stan switched off the light.

"Night," he said casually, and started making his way back upstairs.

"Hey, wait... Stan?" Cartman called out to him.

Stan stopped to look down at him. "What?"

"Uh..." he had to get this out. He had to. Come on! "T..Thanks."

That was difficult.

"No problem dude," the athlete replied with a half smile, and disappeared up the stairs.

He laid in his bed that night, hands crossed behind his head as a pillow.

There's something wrong with Cartman, he thought to himself.

He was only half-joking.


do you guys like it so far? ;3 please let me know! it motivates me to continue!

more chapters to come!