Title: Hold Your Breath

Pairing: Christophe/Kyle

Chapter: 1/?

Words:

(A/N): Okay… Since I wanted to do a Christmas chapter in ONE of my stories, I decided to just make the swim team a fall sport because it's ruining my life when it isn't. So, for this story's sake, swimming is now a fall sport. Eat it.

The swimming and football seasons were over for exactly a week when Token threw his famed party. It was towards the end of a chilly November and all Kyle remembers from that night is taking too many shots with a giggly Stan and falling asleep on top of warm Christophe. However, what confused Kyle the most was when he woke up cold and alone at 11 o'clock, with no physical evidence that Christophe was there at all. He could have sworn he fell asleep on the couch with him, but not one person that Kyle asked remembered seeing Christophe at the party. But it wasn't as though he had just imagined half his night, right?

It was two hours later, when Stan was giving him, Craig, and Tweek a ride home in his Dodge Journey, when he found the evidence for which he was so desperately searching. He had reached into his front left pocket, expecting his fingers to close around his favorite tube of Chap Stick, but instead found his fingers closing around a folded piece of paper. The paper's crinkling was nearly silent in comparison to the music coming from Stan's speakers:

Dear Kyle,

Your beloved Chap Stick has been taken hostage by yours truly. Be advised that it shall be returned to you safely if you follow my instructions carefully. On the first of December, meet me at Stark's Pond at exactly 7 o'clock. It would be wise if you came alone. If you are late or accompanied by another person, your Chap Stick shall meet a watery end at the bottom of the Pond.

Yours Truly
Christophe

Kyle nearly laughed at the faux seriousness of the ransom note and tucked it back into his pocket with a small smile on his face.

That was almost a week and a half ago.

Kyle is pacing restlessly around his room, nervously checking the time every few seconds. It's finally December 1st, and time couldn't be moving more slowly. He kept the ransom note in the place of his Chap Stick for safekeeping and every time his fingers brushed the edges of rough paper instead of a smooth tube, he would smile softly to himself. The paper is worn and ripped in a few places from being folded and refolded several times over the past week and Kyle reaches into his pocket once more to pull it out. He has memorized every single word, every single curve of Christophe's letters, but he still tenderly unfolds the paper to read it again. Kyle sighs quietly and walks to his corkboard, tacking the note next to an old picture of him and Stan from grade school. He checks the clock again, relieved that it is finally close enough to seven for him to leave. His gloved hands pull his old, tattered hat further down on his head before grabbing his thickest coat and warmest scarf. Bundled up as best he can, he checks the clock on his phone: 6:45. Rushing down the steps and through the front door, shouting a "be back later" over his shoulder, Kyle makes his way down the deserted, snow covered street.

The cold air assaults him the moment he steps off his front porch and he knows it will only get worse the further he walks, ducking his head against the slow snowfall and shoving his hands into his pockets. The walk to Stark's Pond takes about ten minutes and by the time he reaches it, Kyle is clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering with his scarf tied tightly around the lower half of his face. He's silently cursing Christophe for picking such an awful day and time to come to Stark's Pond when he spots said boy near the edge of the water. Once Kyle gets close enough to Christophe, he notices a burning cigarette in one of Christophe's hands and a half-eaten candy cane in the other. Kyle shakes his head, walks a little closer, and comes to a stop to Christophe's left.

"You took my Chap Stick hostage?" There is amusement lacing Kyle's muffled words.

"Yes. Eet was insurance," Christophe says vaguely, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Insurance for what?"

Instead of answering, Christophe shoves the half-eaten end of his candy cane into his mouth, flicks his still burning cigarette into the snow before turning around and walking away.

"Hey! Whoa, Wait-" Kyle is cut off by a look Christophe shoots over his shoulder, a grin surrounding his candy cane.

"Insurance for zat."

He continues walking and Kyle stumbles in the rapidly accumulating snow to catch up, giving the brunette a sidelong glance. He's completely silent for all of 20 seconds.

"Where are we going? And may I please have my Chap Stick back, please?" Kyle pleads, tugging on Christophe's sleeve when he doesn't get an immediate response.

"I am freezing and would much prefer to continue zis indoors. You may 'ave your Chap Stick back when I am warm and dry. 'ow close is your 'ouse from 'ere?" Kyle shoulders drop slightly in disappointment when he is denied his Chap Stick.

"Ten minutes. It's probably closer than your house. Do you…We can hang out there if you'd prefer." Kyle pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and chews on it nervously.

"Lead ze way, mon cher."

Ten minutes later, Kyle and Christophe are stepping onto the Broflovski's front porch, brushing the snow off their coats and Kyle pulls the snow-covered hat off his head to shake it out before opening the unlocked door. Once inside the glorious warmth of Kyle's house, Mrs. Broflovski immediately stops them. She saw them enter from the kitchen and came rushing towards them with a tattered old towel.

"Shoes on the towel, boys," she commands after lying the towel down next to the door, "You can hang your wet clothes by the fire. Who is this, Kyle?"

"Mom, this is Christophe. He's…uh…I've known him since like 4th grade, but … uh… he's been living in France for a while," Kyle states somewhat awkwardly, tugging his shoes off while leaning against the closed door.

"Eet is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Broflovski. Your 'ome is quite charming," Christophe practically purrs in his thick French accent, giving a small, yet seemingly genuine smile to Mrs. Broflovski.

She positively beams at his compliment.

"Would you boys like some hot chocolate?" she asks, looking back and forth between Kyle and Christophe. She takes their faces lighting up at the idea of the warming drink as a 'yes' and leaves them alone to dry off by the fire.

Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the roaring fire, Kyle and Christophe wait for Mrs. Broflovski's return. Kyle turns his head slightly to stare at the boy seated next to him; the warm light of the fire is highlighting his face and hair softly, his cheeks and nose have a remaining hint of pink from the harsh winter air.

"Yes?" Kyle is startled and barely suppresses his jump when Christophe speaks. The brown haired boy had shown no sign of being aware that Kyle was staring at him; his eyes weren't even open and his body was completely relaxed.

Holy shit, dude, Kyle thinks to himself. A deep blush is starting to spread across his cheeks and he turns his head to look fully at Christophe.

"I…umm… Are you dry and warm yet because I would like my Chap Stick back eventually," Kyle murmurs, feeling his eyes droop slightly as the heat from the fireplace seeps through his clothes and over his skin. Christophe leans back on his palms and tilts his head between his shoulder blades, allowing a faint smirk to play on his lips.

"Hmm, not quite. I want zat 'ot chocolate first, zen we may relocate to your room, if you permit. I believe we will 'ave more privacy zere, no?"

Kyle silently nods his head, though Christophe's eyes are still shut. The smirk on Christophe's face shifts into a devilish smile and Kyle has a strange feeling that he is being read like an open book. At that moment, Mrs. Broflovski returns from the kitchen with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate and she places them delicately into their outstretched hands.

"Alright boys, now go run along upstairs."

With their hot chocolates in hand, the two teenage boys make their way up the steps to Kyle's bedroom. Christophe immediately sits down on the edge of Kyle's bed and places his mug on the small table placed next to it. He leans his elbows on the tops of his knees and crooks one finger to signal Kyle to move closer. Kyle hesitantly takes a couple steps forward, unconsciously staying out of Christophe's reach, sipping slightly at his hot cocoa.

Christophe shakes his head, "No, closer. I will tell you when to stop."

Kyle takes several more steps and only stops when the French boy utters a word in his native language, assuming it was his command to stop. Nervously tugging the cuff of his shirt, Kyle looks down into Christophe's face, trying desperately to smoother the uncomfortable feeling of invading someone's personal space.

"S'agenouiller. Kneel," Christophe demands while lazily pointing to the floor with his finger. Kyle obediently kneels and blushes crimson at his position between Christophe's spread legs. Christophe places a single finger under Kyle's chin and tilts his face up to look him in the eye while his other hand reaches into the pocket of his jeans to pull out the long waited for Chap Stick. He retracts the hand from under the Jew's chin to uncap the Chap Stick, gripping his jaw loosely before leaning somewhat forward. Christophe brings the Chap Stick up to Kyle's lips and brushes the lip balm across them, humming quietly when the redhead's lips slightly part.

"Is zat better?" His smooth accent sends chills racing down Kyle's spine. The redhead's green eyes fluttered closed, slowly opening again with more clarity than before.

"Yes," Kyle whispered, peering up at Christophe curiously. All he got in response was a small reassuring smile, and he knew, from that simple look, that this was just the beginning.