Happy With, a south park fanfic

Wrote this at three in the morning and felt terrible because I wasn't working on Then & Now instead. It's not dead! It's just... taking a really long nap, apparently.

Anyways, here's a nice CartmanKenny for y'all. You're warned of drug references and gay things. Oh, and I was page-break-challenged in this one so try to ignore any atrocious flow issues between paragraphs. ^.^'

She was getting on in years, her face starting to show the wear of a woman twice her age. Eric realized it, but never did he realize the significance of his mother's deteriorating mental and physical well-being until it began to directly affect him.

As he was denied a pair of brand-name sneakers for the new school year, he saw the wrinkles that lined his mother's face, every attempt made to conceal them in increasing layers of make-up that would make her seem plastic enough to use her and toss her for a few bucks. He began to notice the copious amounts of gray in her hair, before it was once again dyed into the submission of the street's preying eyes. He grew frustrated by the decreased number of outings his mother would concede to, but the fact that she was as tired as she claimed to be was inarguable even to him.

As he began to notice the dwindling amounts of his favorite junk food items lining the pantry shelves, he also began to notice the disturbing way her bones began to jut out. He saw the abused body that once was a beautiful woman, wasting away and so fragile that Eric felt she would break with a single glance. He pretended he never saw her bruised forearms, or the redness of her nose that seemed to be there every time he looked at her. By the time he was thirteen he was begrudgingly doing all the grocery shopping with whatever money wasn't spent on Liane's binges, and he knew every bus route around town by heart from busy days without a ride.

As Kyle let him know that Liane owed Sheila a hundred dollars, Eric sneered at the redhead and walked home without a word. When he got there, the first thing he saw were his mother's vacant eyes. He looked down at the mirror laying on the table, two sets of empty eyes amongst the powdered remnants of Sheila's loan. For the first time, Eric didn't pretend he didn't see how dark the house was, curtains drawn and a collection of putrid smells permanently settled in the confines of the screaming walls. For the first time, he acknowledged the obvious fact that Liane no longer had regular clients to sustain them, acknowledged that it was the only way she had ever made a living. He noticed his clothes were a little too big and too old, his hair just a little too long. He noticed a lot of things in that moment, but after a long day he was too tired to be angry or resentful, and so he silently went to his mother's bedside table to grab some money. Instead of going to the grocery store, he headed for the movie theater.

Freshman year meant the inevitable separation of the four boys. More specifically, Stan and Kyle were quick to distance themselves from the boy they hated and the boy they didn't really care for. By default, Kenny and Eric seemed to be left with each other, gravitating into a routine that was initially foreign to the both of them. This consisted mostly of ditching class together and loitering in parking lots smoking Kenny's mom's cigarettes.

Although Kenny's parents had split up half-way through middle school, his family had managed to fare better without Stuart's alcoholic burden weighing down on them. Kevin had dropped out of school and moved in with some friends in Denver, and their father hadn't been heard from in years. It was only Kenny, his mother, and his sister living in a cramped apartment in the heart of the ghetto, but Kenny had learned to be content with what he had. He'd lived his whole life on welfare and food stamps, and he had to admit to feeling proud of the way Carol worked for her children.

Kenny hadn't been to Eric's house since sixth grade, and when he stepped foot inside after five years he could do nothing but squint through the darkness and inconspicuously hold on to the other's jacket as they quickly climbed upstairs. He wasn't sure Eric had seen it in his rush, but Kenny made sure not to mention the state he had glanced Liane in on the couch. Kenny made it a habit to offer to go to his rundown apartment from then on.

Eric grew to like being with Kenny. He could have fun for free, Carol sometimes took them out to eat, and - most importantly - Kenny never questioned him. They'd pool together money for school lunches, beg for bus fare and use the money for the arcade, and not once would the blond ask Eric why he couldn't pay for snacks at the movie they'd snuck into. Stan and Kyle had never held back when the downhill slope had started when they were preteens, but Kenny had. And if there was one thing Eric liked nowadays, it was ignoring reality and pretending. The rush he got from constantly breaking the law was just a bonus to their friendship.

When they were sixteen, Kenny had the misfortune of passing by the Cartman house on a bad day. What startled him out of his own head were the screams coming from behind him, and he backtracked to stare at the spectacular dim shadows behind the closed set of blinds. The woman was hysterical, sobbing and screaming at the teenage boy with his hands over his head. After something whirred past and smashed somewhere out of sight, he understood the reason for the pose.

He sat on the curb and closed his eyes, the belligerent sounds reminding him of his own roots. The changes in their lives since they were kids were incredible. His own life was now better, despite being raised by a single mother and having to hold a steady job to help his family out. Last he'd heard of Stan and Kyle, they were having an average life with more ups than downs, and they still waved casually at each other in the hallways. It seemed that Cartman, be it karma or something else, had gotten the rotten end of the deal.

As a kid, Kenny was sure that Eric would die alone and miserable, but he couldn't bring himself to think that now. Because even though the other boy had yet to look out or cover for him at school or with the cops, he'd developed a strange fondness for the brunette. He couldn't help the odd fluttering in his chest when the sociopath laughed at his joke or flicked hair out of his eyes. They'd grown into their rebellious selves together, and Kenny felt he could never let the other fall further than he already had. He longed to erase the apathy he often saw and the bitterness that defined that sneer - which, incidentally, he was glad he hadn't seen directed at him in years. Kenny's lips curved upwards in a smile, and he cherished the peaceful silence in the night around him.

That same silence made him snap out of his thoughts and look behind him to see all the lights turned off except for one upstairs. He took his time lighting a cigarette and picking up some rocks to throw. By the time the second rock bounced off the window frame, Eric peaked his head out with forced anger on his face. Before he could spit a single obscene phrase out, Kenny interrupted.

"Pack your shit. Let's go," he said.

He'd go home to "borrow" money every few weeks, but other than that he steered clear of Liane, who'd call every now and then when she was high enough to remember either how much she hated him or how much she missed him.

When Kenny had brought the boy over with a busted lip, Carol had obviously made no objections to his stay. It wasn't the first time, after all. After his fourth night in the house, she asked her son about it, but she hesitantly left it alone after an agreement between the two that Kenny work a couple more hours a week. After all, what's one more mouth to feed, right? If it made her son happy, she was happy. She'd put him through enough in his short life.

Eric contributed what he could in an effort not to get kicked out. He put his charisma and haggling skills to good use by re-selling yard sale goods at the swap meet. He mostly used the money on himself and sometimes brought a bag of groceries home, but every now and then he'd use it on Kenny. He felt weak for giving in to the urge to spend the money on something that wouldn't benefit him, but Kenny's reaction each time made him feel a little better. Eric hated everyone; he hated his teachers, he hated the neighbors, he hated Kenny's boss and Kenny's family... but he didn't hate Kenny, and he didn't hate the bastard's smile. With the feeling that smile gave him, it was easy to pretend everything did benefit him, somehow.

Carol grew to like her son's best friend. He didn't prove to be too much of a burden, and he seemed to be a good influence on Kenny over time. Both the boys had settled down over the past year; maybe it was the fact that they were growing up into adults, but she'd seen them change from the vandals she had to pick up at the station the next morning into boys she could be proud of, managing their own money and schedules. That is why when she came home for a short break between shifts one day and happened to see her son and his friend on the couch, as intimate as one could get without taking their clothes off, she didn't interrupt them and she didn't mention it. Instead, she took advantage of the fact that she hadn't been heard and left in silence.

Sitting outside of the parking lot at her work, Carol leaned on the steering wheel and closed her tear-filled eyes. She let herself cry. She'd left her alcoholic, verbally abusive husband and worked hard to provide the best life she could for her children. To make them happy. Had she succeeded? If this boy made her son happy, then the best she could do was let them be, right?

When she got home and found them making dinner, she tried to look for a sign that she'd done the right thing in leaving them alone. The kitchen smelled of Ramen and mac 'n' cheese, and the boys were laughing and lazily shoving each other with their shoulders. At that moment, her Kenny looked like the happiest man on Earth. How hadn't she seen it before? After dinner, she stopped Eric with a single touch to his arm. She wished she could find the words, but all she could do was smile tiredly at the boy.

Of course neither of them went to college. Money aside, Cartman failed too many classes and Kenny rarely went to them. They barely managed to scrape by with a high school diploma each. They stayed in South Park, mostly because neither of them was ready for a bigger city just yet. Kenny had worked up to assistant manager at the shoe store he'd been at since he was fifteen, and they had managed to rent a one-bedroom apartment in a slightly better neighborhood.

Eric Cartman did not like work. Despite all the things necessity had forced him to do during his teens, a real job with a real boss telling him what to do was not one of them. He continued to sell at the swap meet during the weekends, but on the side he sold drugs to hopeless addicts and bored teens. He knew the market well, after all. Dealing with his pathetic clients disgusted him, but the fact that Kenny never had to work overtime and that they almost always managed their rent on time was enough of a motivator.

At twenty years old, Eric hadn't seen Liane often enough to be prepared for the knock on the door and the police report. It was a silent funeral, forced on him by Carol and Kenny's sister, Karen. One week later, his grieving was interrupted by a series of taunting phone calls. That afternoon, Kenny came home to a thrashed bedroom and Eric sporting a bloody and smashed hand, screaming obscenities about one Scott Tenorman. Kenny dug the glass out of the other's hand, cleaning it and bandaging it and whispering all his words of affection as he held the other's face tenderly.

Kenny let himself be abused, let his boyfriend release all his grief and frustration onto him in a carnal display. He begged for more despite the pain, and after the two lay exhausted underneath the sheets, whispered all the things that made Eric roll his eyes and fight a grin. Ironically, it took Kenny the longest to get the sleep. The explosions going off in his chest wouldn't let him rest, and he was afraid he would die from the happiness he felt to be able to make the other man smile despite loss, to see a glimmer of emotion behind those eyes, and to have won his protectiveness and affection all for himself.

With the death of his mother, Eric admitted to himself that some of his demons disappeared. There was no use pretending anymore, because even though he still had a life of more downs than ups, he no longer had to yearn for much. They didn't have much - hell, they didn't even have a car - but he felt they had enough. The blond nuzzled against his chest was proof enough.