Is it just me or is my writing becoming poorer and poorer by each story? ... and my titles are becoming more cheesier by the minute? Hallmark Channel does that to you, I suppose.

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park! It rightfully belongs to Trey&Matt!

Love in the Library

"Beetch of a ma'zzer, bein' God's little beetch, making moi go to this wretched library… Me? Grounded? Hmph! … this is your fault, you con'zeeted prick!"

The disheveled boy pointed an angry finger at the gray-blue sky, expecting to hear a reply from the Big Guy above. After countless moments of waiting and waiting, God only sent a shivering wind through the town, followed by a flood of dancing flurries. Christophe shook in rage. If God claimed to hate him so much, why didn't the dude just come down from the clouds and chew the kid out? Better yet, send him to Hell or Limbo where the Mole felt he really belonged?

Groaning in defeat, Christophe inhaled the nicotine of the cancer-stick and a moment later, flicked it onto the slippery sidewalk. He stamped the cigarette out and headed into the South Park public library, muttering under his breath as he went inside. Thankfully, his face was met with a rush of warmth. Seconds earlier he was trudging through the chilling cold and now he was warming up to the rising temperature of seventy-two degrees. The snowflakes on his coat were melting away in no time at all. Grateful, Christophe removed his second layer of clothing, sighing with relief.

"Oh, thank Go—"

He trailed off when his eyes caught the glimpse of curly brown hair and a pair of red barrettes walking into a faraway aisle. Christophe raised a brow in amusement before following the girl.

I should 'ave known she would be here, he thought.

He passed the open area of the library where Christmassy streamers hang from the ceiling. Against the wall there was a table set up for kids' books that revolved around wintertime and every seasonal holiday in general; Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa… as he was taking in his surroundings, however, a particular decoration attracted his attention more than the others. It was little Jesus snuggling in his manger, encircled by Mary and Joseph and the three wise men. A rough scowl crossed Mole's face and his two caterpillar-like eyebrows narrowed firmly. He glanced over both shoulders to make sure no one was looking. The librarian was first nose into a book and hardly paid any attention to anyone around her… Christophe's scowl disappeared; it swept clear off his face and became an up-to-no grin when he turned the wooden replica of baby Jesus over on his stomach.

The boy looked at the ceiling again, wearing the same smile as he did just a second ago. He then marched on to find his friend, feeling pride swell deep in his chest. A moment later, he had Rebecca Cotswolds cornered. She was down on her hands and knees, browsing the romance section that her parents had forbid before she was even born. Neat stacks surrounded her that she'd piled one by one. Chuckling inaudibly, Christophe stepped forward and overlooked a handful of the incredibly sappy covers. They were just your average, over the top Harlequin stories. Full of beefy men caressing inadequate women's breasts with their horny limbs. Scoundrel's Captive. A Pirate's Pleasure. Beloved Highlander. Master of Desire. Unicorn Vengeance.

Christophe pursed his lips in a frown, staring at the last title. Unicorn vengeance? What kind of title was that, and what specifically was the writer smoking? The further browsing made it difficult to breathe. Christophe thought he was going to die—however that did sound too dramatic in his head. Gagging? Yes. Puking? … Probably. Puking in Rebecca's hair was one way to gain her attention.

"S-h-a-w-n-e-e … B-r-i-d-e… Shawnee Bride."

The smile was back again, all thanks to 'Poodle''s spelling habit. Kids their age thought it was the weirdest thing—that Rebecca Cotswolds was indeed a weird girl at heart, who whispered all sorts of words into the palms of her hands before spelling them out loud in public. But little did those drones know that some of the weirdo kids around this town just happened to be absolutely spectacular. If all the strange children gathered outside of South Park and formed a pyramid, Rebecca would be at the top. And Christophe would be…

He'd be…

The smile vanished. He stared blankly, deep in thought.

… No. No, you v'ould NOT be cheering her on! She is just a mere girl! Nothing else. A poodle! Yes, a poodle…

A fluffy poodle who liked to spell out the craziest words. A fluffy poodle that was awkward as hell. A fluffy poodle who he would like to take home and groom every day and feed her the finest meals he'd have to offer. And she'd be the prettiest poodle that South Park would have for a long, long time.

Christophe's daydream about him and his 'poodle' was interrupted by a high-pitched gasp. Books flew in the air and a pair of hands shielded Rebecca's open mouth. Her heartbeat accelerated; up and down, up and down… her chest fluttered with a mixture of emotions… Her eyes were wide in alert, but there was a calming tone to them. After overcoming her fright, she went down on her knees again to collect the books in a rushing manner. She prayed to God that Christophe didn't catch her blushing.

To her worry, her face turned a deeper shade of red when he joined her eye-level and to help her stack books. The boy pushed back a few bangs of his traditionally messy brown hair, looked at her and smirked.

"I apologize if I startled you, Poodle," he said softly, calling her by the nickname.

"Me? Startled? B-by you?" she squeaked, only causing for Christophe's amused smirk to curl more. Rebecca squealed in embarrassment and opened a romance novel to hide her crimson face away. "N-e-v-e-r… never! Where would you get a foolish idea like that?"

"You're drowning yourself in romance novels," he said, the obviousness dripping from his lips.

"I wouldn't be if you didn't sneak up on me like that!" Rebecca scolded him. She quickly began to reshelf the romance novels back into alphabetical order.

"… four… three… two…"

Her throat ached to squeal. Christophe wondered why she hadn't been kicked out of the library yet. And she was starting to sound awfully like a pig, rather than a poodle… poog? Hell if he didn't know what the true combination of the animals was.

Rebecca, who'd not taken any notice of where her hand had wandered off to, slowly turned her head. Her eyes met his and they held for quite some time until she found her hand underneath Christophe's rough one. He brushed the tips of her soft knuckles with his leathered fingerless gloves. Rebecca shivered. Below her hand was the last book. Unicorn Vengeance. Christophe grimaced when he made out the title—oh, that title! This was all God's doing, he knew it!

"…Um… Ch-Christophe?"

He shook off his anger and stared at the girl before him.

"Hmm? 'Vhat iz it?"

Rebecca wiped back a curly lock of hair that'd fallen over her ear.

"May I… have my book back, p-l-e-a-s-e? Please?"

He glanced down at their little interaction, played with her fingers a little more. Her skin was so soft and smooth… her hand was nice to hold. As the moment seemed to last forever, Christophe removed himself, giving Rebecca just enough time to snatch up the book and protectively hold it in her arms to her chest. Her cheeks tinted with pink and she had to look away from his handsome face. At least he had some dignity to wash the dirt today…

Finally, she stood and wandered over to a nearby table. She looked over her shoulder and called,

"Would you like to read with me?"

The French boy sighed and shrugged his shoulders, feeling defeat rise among him.

"… Eh, 'vhat the hell. I've got nothing else better to do, any'vay."

He started to make his way towards the table, supposing that being forced to go to the library for the next couple of days wouldn't be so bad as he thought it would be.