Author's Note: I had an objective of writing some Wendy fluff, but then it turned into this oneshot. Not sure if my Kenny is good enough or not, but….I tried! Enjoy my attempt at writing Kendy!

We're not on Cloud Nine, but we'll sure as hell get there or die trying

My memories have always been a bit cloudy. I guess that comes with death. My friends seemed to always be stable, though. The bastards they were. I, to be honest, seemed to be the one friend cherished the most, despite my disappearances, they seemed to forget about me, and then immediately as I returned, it all came back .It all flowed back in quickly, rapidly, not giving me any time to think about it, just to keep moving. That was the way things were.

And then there was her.

She was like a dream. Fading in, fading out. We'd only talked a few times, but already, every single day, she was on the edge of my mind, cutting away like a knife.

Sure, it was more-or-less one-sided for a good majority of the time. I knew that, I damn well knew that. I'm the joke. I'm the perverted bastard who's worth next-to-nothing, but I'm a worthwhile friend, I guess.

And…

And….

And.

And, well, that was it. Nothing more than that. I remember a few moments we shared, vaguely, faintly. She may have thought these moments to be nothing really much more than a small touch of friendship between us, but I thought of them as more. Much more. I knew there was something, but I didn't know what, at the time, love was just one huge confusing mess to me, despite having years of experience (speaking as one of girls' favorites, I still can't decipher their minds) and I still had much, much more to learn.

One of those moments was in school.

"And so, that concludes my presentation on Women's Rights. Thank you."

"I think I've got a perfect example of one of those rights." Cartman spoke up, a devilish grin immediately forming onto his face. "The right to stay in the goddamn kitchen and make sandwiches! Am I right? I'm right, ain't I?" He nudged a few boys around him as Wendy glared.

"I beat your ass up once, don't make me do it again!" She snapped, crossing her arms. I stared, then sighed. Poor, poor, girl, you don't really know what you're getting yourself into again….

"Oh, I'm so scared. A girl beat me up when I was already weak for making fun of titty cancer. Please. Darlin', I hate to say it, but I've worked to get myself more strong since our last fight. I'd like to see you try, bitch." Kyle nudged Cartman as if to get him to back off, seeing Wendy's furious expression, and Cartman merely formed his hand into a middle finger as I looked on.

Jesus Christ, was I useless.

She sighed, then returned to her desk, muttering things such as "I will not let mere anger at those beneath me control my actions." This caused Cartman to burst into roaring laughter, and Kyle sighed, at least glad that it hadn't broken out into a fight. I, on the other hand, honestly wanted to see the fat bastard get his ass kicked – how the hell could he honestly say the shit he does and get the fuck away with it? He needed some sort of punishment, and he never got it – to be honest, I got where Kyle was coming from all those times, but I never spoke up about it – like hell I would, not let myself get put into the spotlight.

But that was a topic for another day.

I sat at my desk, drumming my pencil against the wooden texture. At the moment, I didn't find anything too interesting about this morning, merely a normal morning with an average Cartman insulting an average person-of-the-day. 'Least it wasn't me was the most prominent train of thought at the moment, and the other train set to collide with it was 'I hope the person chosen next to present isn't me – maybe if I tie my jacket tight enough, I can say whatever the fuck I want and still get a A for people not grasping what I'm saying. If they get that I'm talking about sniffing paint and watching houses breathe with Eric Cartman, however, then that….would automatically get both of our asses sent to the office, and both of our parents called. And that means one more bruise to the face in the morning, fucking joy.'

And so I settled for sinking into my seat.

"Kenneth McCormick?"

Oh, fuck. Stop calling me by my full name, you trashy bitch, especially when you're about to do something that I hate.

"Will you be presenting today?"

"No, ma'am."

"And why not?"

"I'm not prepared enough, ma'am."

"You realize that you will be accepting an F?"

"Yes."

"And this will be an unchangeable grade, along with your legion of others like it?"

"Yes."

"Alright, then. Stanley Marsh?"

And with that, that was settled. I'd quickly gained the ranking of the 'poor kid who's doomed to drop out' throughout the current school year, and it was quickly decided that I needed a tutor.

She entered on that.

Wendy Testaburger, determined to get Kenny McCormick's GPA up to Colorado passing standard, no matter what it took.

I hated it at first. I never thought, ever, in my life, that I'd really give two shits about academics or 'getting into a good college' like she did. Wendy, Kyle, Stan, those were the names you looked up in the phone book for a quality job. Even Eric might turn in a decent quality job on a good day and provided with 'something in it for him'.

Kenny McCormick wasn't in the phone book, because he's the fucking janitor at the fucking local KFC and working there on the promise that he'd be paid….in chicken, because Kenny McCormick will sweep for food.

Nonetheless, she seemed set on it, even by the first session.

And I suppose that was one of the first things that got me to fall for her.

"Um. Hi. Is this the…McCormick residence?"

"And who are you?"

"I'm here to tutor Kenny McCormick? I'm in his class."

Oh, shit. Mom, get away from the door, you're not going to leave a good impression on whoever's there, no matter who it is. GET. AWAY.

"Oh, right….Kenny, get over here!"

"I'm right behind you, mom."

"Oh, so ya are."

Wendy giggled, smiling. "Hi, Kenny. It's me, Wendy, from school? Can I come in?"

"Um, sure. But watch where ya step." I commented dryly, walking up the stairs, not throwing any concern to the black-haired girl behind me. She twitched, then her smile faltered a bit, as if to say 'what did he mean by that' and then she followed after me.

"Well, the teacher assigned me to be your new tutor, because you're failing, and she wants me to help you at least get up to passing standard." Wendy said as she followed me to my room.

"Pssh. Good luck with that. I'm warning ya, I'm dumb as bricks."

"That's what all the smartest kids say. I've said that before, too. All you need is a push." She said. Irk. Unfailing cheerfulness. It's somewhat pissing me off, but I can't admit that.

"Probably a damn hard push that could only be accomplished by several half-naked women, or two fully naked women promising me with sex and drugs."

Wendy frowned. "…I know you're not AS bad as Cartman, so don't try to trick me into thinking you two are like mind twins."

"Maybe we are, who the fuck knows?"

"Either way. I'm determined to not let anyone down, and that includes you, so I'll help you with your grades whether you like it or not."

"Oh, joy. I'll have a person nagging in my ear about getting shit done. Woohoo." This sarcasm pissed her off, I could tell, but she resisted – damn, her breaking point had increased.

"Damn right you will." She grinned widely. "Now, let's begin with Algebra."

So days continued in this format. I went to school, and Wendy went to my house afterwards to, as she put it, 'double team' our homework. After a while, we began to talk sometimes. Gradually, not pushing it, we only broached a few subjects within our time together. I'd learned about her family and, as she hated to reveal, her low-self esteem and how she'd entirely built herself up to surpass her low expectations of herself, and she learned about Karen, my life, my (as much as I hate to admit it) ever-growing fear about being entirely forgotten one day.

And I suppose it was one of those evenings that the subject of romance fell into place.

"What is Napoleon's purpose in leading the animals in this revolution?" Wendy put the card down, staring at me, expecting an answer. "We went over this Monday, so you should know it…"

"He wishes to gain power for himself, most importantly, and the pigs in general." I stated. She clapped her hands.

"As much as you'll deny it, I think you've made progress."

"Like hell I have. Now, you asked me a question, I'll ask you one."

"Shoot."

"But not from the study cards."

"Eh? Then from what?"

"You'll see when you hear the question. Now, here we go…" I dug into my pocket, pulling out a set of slightly washed-out girls' trivia game cards. I'd found 'em on the street, a bit ruined and torn, but legible and possibly fun. Wendy stared at the back of the cards, then raised a eyebrow, smiling.

"Hey, I've got that game at home…."

"Mmm. I just found the cards this morning. No board game with it, but I thought the questions would be okay. So, let's see. Oh, god, I had to pick the awkward one."

"What? What is it?"

"Oh, like hell I'm asking you this."

"There's no one here but us, go ahead!"

"Fine. So, what would your ideal date be like?"

Wendy turned a slight shade of pink, then began to think. "Well, let's see. Something casual. Not too casual, but casual. Something…special. Something we'd both enjoy. I'd say something like a movie, or a dinner date, but those are cliché….ehe." She shrugged. "Just something…fun."

"Vague answer for someone who's usually blunt."

"Well, how about you?"

"You really want to hear this?"

"Yes, I'm curious now." She stated, crossing her arms, the flashcards she created being ignored in the palm of her hands. "You have to share yours."

I laid back on my bed, folding my hands behind my head, thinking.

"Fine, fine. Well, first, we'd meet up and she'd hug me tightly, tell me how much she missed me, yadda, yadda. I'd tell her I missed her a lot too, then we'd go to see some sort of movie, or concert, or something. Probably something within my price range. If she wanted, we could even go to the arcade, play a bit of co-op, I'd find that fun, but that's just me. So long as she was happy, I'd probably be happy."

"You're really surprisingly sweet for someone who's usually perverted at school and otherwise."

"...I guess so."

She smiled sweetly, and pulled out another flashcard.

"Who is Napoleon a parallel to? What is Animal Farm a representation of in general?"

With that, the school year concluded, and there stopped being a rhyme or a reason for the times she visited. She just….did. Karen had grown to be close to her, and if anything was ever asked, she was merely looking out for her.

Yeah, right.

Or maybe she was, and I was just an ignorant idiot taking things the wrong way from the start. My parents were oblivious to anything, as usual. Just keep getting drunk, pa. Not like you'll ever change. Ma, stop crying, Karen's getting a heada—Pa, get away from Karen!

It was a relief the times I was invited to Wendy's house. It was so much better there. I instantly felt at home the minute I stepped in and the minute I stepped out was the only time I realized what I was actually doing.

It all continued in a routine, once again, life was a sweet routine, until that one fateful night when I finally had enough, I suppose. I packed up my stuff, took Karen's hand, and dashed out of home, out of hell, to go to my personal heaven in the middle of the night.

"Wendy."

"…Who's there…?"

"Wendy, it's me."

"Kenny? It's 1 AM."

"I know. Can Karen and I come in?"

"Karen's there too? Where are you two?"

"Outside the window. If you move the curtain and open it, we'll jump in." She did so, and I jumped inside, holding Karen closely – she'd fallen asleep during the time we were dashing over. "Thanks."

"What are you doing here?"

"Taking refuge."

"Eh?"

"I've had enough with my parents, you should know that better than anyone. I'm hiding out away from them."

"Kenny…" Wendy sighed, frowning, clearly stumped. "…They'll come looking for you…"

"Let 'em look. I won't let them know. I'm just extending the invitation to come along."

"….Where will you go?"

"Hell if I know. I'm just going to leave South Park, Stuart McCormick, and Candy McCormick far behind. If you want, you can join me, Wendy. We can run off together." I smirked. "Don't tell me you haven't dreamed about it. C'mon." The smirk faded into a genuine smile.

Wendy looked down, then took my hand, gulping, putting her other hand over her eyes. I knew this short burst – she was telling me to hop down with her. I took her hand, and dashed forward, flying through the air, and both of us landing on the snow beneath.

"Kenny…..I want to, but…"

"I know. I'm dreaming too big, ain't I? I can't get money by my own, like hell enough to support anyone else, I'm only…"

"Kenny. I want to, but….you can't…why didn't you ever call child protective services?"

"I die every damn day, do you think they'd 'harass' two parents who 'grieve' over the loss of their chew toy and son every day?"

"…Kenny…"

"Wendy."

We stared at each other for a few moments, then I hugged her tightly with one arm, holding my sister in the other.

"I won't make you. Just don't tell anyone else."

"…Kenny…please don't go." She frowned, obviously conflicted. I stared at her, resisting my usual desire to make a comment along the lines of 'now or never, babe'. It was that minute that a stray bullet pierced me in the head.

"K-Kenny!"

"…Don't worry about it, I'll be fine by tomorrow. Promise ya."

"….."

She sighed, then smiled, as she held my hand and watched me stop breathing for another time in the eternal life-death cycle I exist in.

A few days later, I got the news that Stan had started dating Wendy again.

A few days later, I ended up trying to leave again.

A few days later, once again, I died and woke up in my bed again, with my sister in her proper place, with the parents that I'd grown to hate.

There was one last moment amongst us that I felt to be special.

It was winter. The snowfall had just begun, and we all were out for a break. Cartman and Kyle had went off some other place – god knows where, I swear, those two had grown far too close as of late, and it was starting to seriously bug me – and Stan was away practicing his football, as per the usual.

We met up again near the statue at the school's center. She was reading, and I took a seat next to her. She'd changed.

I knew she'd changed damn well, only in appearance, though. She still smiled at me like we'd talked and shared our secrets only yesterday.

"Oh, hello, Kenny."

"Heya. What'cha readin'?"

"Oh. Atlas Shrugged. Class assignment." With that, Wendy, herself, shrugged. "It's really whiny and bitchy, along with being droning and long. I really hate it."

"Pssh. Glad I'm not in advanced English."

"You'll still have to read it next year, so don't count yourself out yet."

"Shit."

My expression, I assumed, caused her to laugh, and I grinned. That laugh had gotten to become the most wonderful sound in the world back then, and it still was to this day. She shook her head.

"You know, they say that people never change, and I suppose you're living proof."

"Say that about yourself."

"Mmm, I think I've changed quite a bit."

"Your boobs are bigger."

This got me a hit on the head with good 'ol Atlas.

"You certainly haven't changed." She stated, and I rubbed my head, looking up, as I knew I had the biggest shit-eating grin on my face.

"Never for the better, babe. Never for the better."

"Idiot."

"Hey, you helped me advance from mega-idiot, so that's an improvement."

"Whatever."

I shrugged, then looked down at the snow, falling off the bench, and falling onto the ground, waving my hands and legs back and forth.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a snow angel."

"…Why? Why now?"

"Because I feel like it. C'mon, join me. Most fun we could have in ages."

"I disagree, sort of, and wo—"

"Lighten up."

I took her hand, pulling her down onto the ground, and waved her hands for her, Wendy eventually getting into it and waving her legs back and forth as well, laughing despite being beside herself at the same time.

"First snow of the season, and I'm with a childhood friend making snow angels."

"Damn straight, no other place you'd rather be."

"Well, I cou—"

"Want me to dump snow on your face?"

"Cute." She picked up her hand – the one that still wasn't holding my hand, and dumped snow onto my face. "Cuter with your face covered in snow, yourself."

I brushed it off my face. "Aw, so I'm ugly. Oh, I know how to fix this."

That was the moment I kissed her.

"K-Kenny!"

"Did I change from a frog to a prince?"

"…No."

"Maybe we should try again, then."

"No, no, no, no, we can't. Okay? We can't."

"…" I chuckled. "Always like that, even when we were younger."

"…I've got Stan."

"You two still break up every other week."

"…It's stable at the moment!"

"When you get tired of it, you know where to find me."

"…Yeah. I've been there too many times to forget."

And despite what I've done, and despite what she thinks, and despite everything that's happened that pushes it all into pieces….I knew she meant those last words.

And whenever she comes, I'll be waitin'.

Waitin', as one day, I won't have to chase down my dream anymore.

She'll be here, waitin' for me, giving me a tight hug and telling me how much she missed me.

You know what?

I missed her, too.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please rate and review! Stayed up late writing this, gragh.