This is the product of my long-standing desire to write Cartman/Wendy. Don't worry, they're teens in this. :)
*
"I'm serious, Cartman!" Wendy threw up her hands in frustration. "Your cat is always in the room while we're having sex and I'm sick of it! It's creepy!"
Cartman sighed. He'd been dating Wendy for five months and they should have been the most awesome months of his life except for that little detail...and the fact that she was a crazy hippie who wouldn't let him set the Jews on fire or lock the poor in an exploding building. But right now, it was the cat thing.
"Wendy, first of all, Mistar Kitteh has every right to be wherever she wants. Second of all-"
"And why do you call her Mister Kitty anyway? She's clearly female," Wendy cut in.
"Uh..." Cartman twiddled his thumbs. "Cause she's so butchy and acts like a guy cat all the time, that's why!"
Wendy rolled her eyes. He was an idiot and she'd only gone out with him because they were both bored and lonely after Stan and Kyle hooked up. Sometimes she decided the reason she stayed was because it was better than giving him the satisfaction of walking away in disgust.
"Fine, whatever. Look, I love cats as much as the next person, but have you seen the way she looks at us? Like she's getting off on it, or judging us," she said.
"Wendy, Mistar Kitteh believes in free love just like Jesus," Cartman said. "And she isn't some kind of sick pervert, kay? You gotta understand, babe, the kitteh's here to stay and there aint nothin' we can do about it. Date me, love my kitteh."
Wendy buried her face in her palm, groaning.
"I hate you so much."
"Yeah, well, I don't hear bells and whistles when you walk in a room either."
"You're such an asshole!"
"And you're a fucking hippie bitch!"
"Sociopath!"
"Bleeding heart!"
And then they were dragging each other to the floor, ripping their clothes off, and Wendy remembered the other reason she stuck with him.
Fat, racist assholes have no right to be this good in bed.