Author's Note: The drama is just bleeding all over the pages now, folks. This chapter focuses a little more on Butters and Cartman's changing dynamics, and introducing my personal favorite characters in this saga, the kindergartners all grown up. Ike is seeing his world turned upside down because Filmore is deviating from being "one of the jocks" with his sudden interest in Morgan. Kenny once again proves himself as a whore, but we see a different side of Kenny when he's with Morgan. In case it confuses anyone, Romp is from SP episode "Cartman's Silly Hate Crime," Filmore is from "Trapper Keeper," and Morgan is from "Stanley's Cup." Reviews make the chapters come faster! All previous disclaimers still apply.

Bad Boys

Chapter Three

by MT Yami

"I'm telling you, there is nothing to do in Pasadena."

Butters giggled, looking at up Cartman with arms akimbo. "Well, it's not like there's anything in Santa Barbara worth seeing. I mean, Pip and the dance team threw their party for me last night so I'ahd get to spend my special day with you! And there's no one else I'ahd rather celebrate growing older with, Eric."

The behemoth sighed deeply, rolled his eyes, and leaned down to kiss the smiling blond. "Ah well, happy birthday again, Butters." Sometimes he could be too sickeningly cute. Butters had driven down from Santa Barbara that morning to visit, eager to spend September 11, his birthday, with his boyfriend.

As a result, they were shopping in Old Town Pasadena all day, much to Cartman's dismay and Butters' enjoyment. The petite boy was happily flitting from artsy shop to artsy shop, sporting the new body-hugging little Hello Kitty tee that had been Cartman's birthday present, and the larger boy was counting the minutes down to his real "present," courtesy of Astroglide and the roomy double bed back at his dorm.

"Eric, can you carry these? Let's stop at Starbucks and get a drink real quick, okay?"

Cartman grumbled as he shouldered the mountain of shopping bags. How did I descend to bitch status so quickly? Nonetheless, he followed the sprightly little blond into the crowded coffee shop obediently.

Butters turned around just in time to hear a solid thud and to see the bags go flying.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck?"

The behemoth looked down to see a slim dark-haired boy sprawled on the floor amidst the bags, rubbing his head gingerly.

He looked up at Cartman, grinning a little sheepishly. "Aw man, I'm sorry, I was totally not watching where I was going. Let me help you with those bags."

As he stood, Cartman got a good look at his face, all the while ignoring the bag the boy was trying to hand to him.

"…Romp?"

The dark-haired boy's eyes widened in surprise. "Cartman? Wow, man, it's been a while! I didn't recognize you, you're not—"

"Fat? Yes, I know. I played football in high school and all of a sudden I shed the baby fat like Jews shed foreskins. Anyway. How have you been? I didn't expect to run into you so far off from South Park."

In contrast, Romper "Stomper" Crowe was easily recognizable, looking pretty much the same as he did back in Cartman's juvie days—short, with tousled, uncontrollable black hair that stuck up in all directions, cobalt blue eyes, and a teardrop tattoo above his left cheekbone. He was, of course, missing the Stompers, which the larger boy was somewhat relieved about—they were, admittedly, dorky and very mid-80's-era.

It surprised Cartman in turn when the shorter, sinewy boy grabbed him close in an affectionate hug; he could feel Butters stiffen in protest. Despite his boyfriend's reaction, though, the behemoth couldn't help but return Romper's infectious grin.

"Awesome, dude. Ever since I got out of juvie I've been trying to make a better life for myself, so I'm at the California School of Culinary Arts here in Pasadena. I've always loved cooking."

Something about this new Romper seemed very odd and very unlike him, Cartman decided, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. When the older boy released him from the hug, he stepped back uncertainly.

"Hey, remember that time you crapped out Disneyland in my cell because you knew how much I wanted to see it? I was really glad to call you my friend then—hey, who's this?"

Romper had just noticed Butters, who by then had a very sullen expression on his face. His smile faltered a little.

"This is Butters, my—" Cartman hesitated and glanced sidelong at Butters, who shot him a look. "My b-boyfriend." Somehow, admitting this to an ex-juvie cellmate was very awkward.

To his even further surprise, Romper's expression didn't change. "Oh. Well, that's great! Do you go to Caltech too?"

Butters shook his head, his jaw still set in a slightly annoyed jut. "No. I'ahm Eric's boyfriend from high school. I go to UCLA, Santa Barbara. Hey, wouldn't you guys like to get out of the doorway? I'ahd like to not get kicked out of this Starbucks, especially before I'ah even order something."

The other boys complied, grabbing the bags and settling down on the couches by the window.

"So, you're visiting for the weekend? How sweet." Romper threw a saccharine smile in Butters' direction. The little blond ignored him and walked over to the ordering line.

Cartman shrugged apologetically. "It's his birthday today, and we're supposed to be having a day out together."

"Oh. How long have you guys been seeing each other?" The dark-haired boy kicked back on the sofa, his hands behind his head. Cartman had to admit that the years had treated him well, and Romper had grown handsome since his days in juvie.

"Three months, about."

Romper chuckled. "I never thought you'd be…you know. That kind of guy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"No, no, I just meant that I didn't think you'd be the commitment kind of guy. Fuck, who cares if you like guys? I swing both ways. No sense in restricting yourself to one flavor, right?"

This new Romper was definitely freaking Cartman out now, and he was relieved when Butters returned with two peppermint white chocolate mochas in hand.

"Okay, we need to get moving if we're going to finish all of our shopping and still make dinner reservations, Eric." Butters handed him a cup and gave Romper what was possible the fakest smile that Cartman had ever seen plastered across his boyfriend's normally benign face.

Cartman nodded, relieved to escape. "Y-yeah, so I'll be seeing you, huh? You're living around here, right?"

"Yeah! Definitely give me a call to hang out some weekend." Romper returned Butters' sugary grin. Some weekend when your boyfriend's not around. "Number?"

The little blond tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the other two boys to swap numbers.

"Can we go now? Seriously, Eric…"

"Bye, guys!" Romper stood and shoved a couple of bags into Butters' arms. "See you soon, Cartman?"

Butters elbowed Cartman in the gut as he transferred the bags to him.

"Uh huh, see ya, Romp."

As soon as they walked out of the Starbucks, Butters wrapped his arms around Cartman's neck and kissed him hard, crushing the bags the bigger boy was holding.

The behemoth turned bright red. "What was that for? We're in broad daylight."

"To prove that you're mine. I'ah want to have a happy birthday."

--

"Ike! Shoot the goddamn puck!"

Ike Broflovski looked up at the scoreboard. Two seconds left. He raised his hockey stick to score—

"Yeah, Morgan!"

All of a sudden, the puck was gone, whizzing towards the other end of the arena. Ike mentally smacked himself as he watched Morgan Ryan sail past, saluting him with a smirk.

"Broflovski, what was that?" Coach Bartlett climbed over the partition, waving his clipboard. "That's the second skirmish this week you've lost because you got distracted."

Ike sighed and looked up into the stands. His best friend, Filmore Anderson, was waving at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll tell Filmore not to come to practice anymore."

"Doesn't matter, Broflovski! People cheer at the games all the time, you better be prepared next time. Hit the showers, boys!"

Morgan bumped against Ike as he skated slowly to the gate, grinning. "Got you there, huh, baby?"

"I'm not a baby, asshole. Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I can't kick your ass, Ryan!"

The argument might have escalated, but as always, Filmore scurried down from the stands to pat Ike on the back and once again try to persuade Morgan to go out with him. Ike still didn't quite understand what everyone saw in the cocky, self-assured boy—he'd never been turned down by anyone and was notorious for having a new boyfriend every week.

Worse, Filmore was well known to be a player among the girls of their class, and everyone wanted a piece of him. For him to be strung along by Morgan was, frankly, appalling.

Morgan tucked a piece of reddish-brown hair behind his ear and looked at Filmore coquettishly. "Hey Filmore, did you see me steal that puck out from under Ike's nose?"

"You didn't steal it, bitch, I wasn't even touching it!"

"Yeah, it was awesome." The taller black-haired boy leaned in and offered a flirty smile at the girlish brunet. "Hey, what are you doing after practice?"

"Showering."

Ike saw the stupid grin on his best friend's face widen, probably imagining a very wet and very naked Morgan. Because of the brief distraction, the slender boy was able to sashay away without further interrogation.

Filmore's face fell when he finally realized that the object of his affection had left.

"Well, that was a little better than yesterday, wouldn't you say?"

Ike sighed. "Filmore, I have no idea why you like him so much. He's clearly a stuck-up, fickle bitch. In fact, I heard that he was having sex with Kenny McCormick in the locker rooms yesterday—he's the only one I've heard of that Kenny has sex with for free."

"I don't care. He's beautiful, Ike, just look at him!"

"Yeah, I look at him every single day and I still have no idea what you're talking about. Anyway. I'm gross, so I'm gonna shower and meet you out by the bikes in a few minutes. Okay? Stay out of trouble."

Filmore chuckled. "Aw, come on, Ikey. What, you jealous?"

"Of who? Yeah, I'm so jealous of you, in love with a ho and all."

Ike just barely managed to hear Filmore's quiet retort before the locker room doors closed behind him.

"No, I meant…are you jealous of Morgan?"

--

Kenny parked his car outside of the South Park Recreation Center, tapping his foot impatiently. He glanced down at his cheap watch, keeping an eye on the doors to the building.

When at last a tall, slender brunet emerged, Kenny got into the driver's seat and started up the engine.

"How was hockey practice?"

Morgan slid into the cab of the truck and shrugged. "Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Jesus Christ, Kenny, we're just having sex. You don't need to act like you care."

The sandy-blond raised his hands in defeat. "Look, I'm just trying to be nice. I mean, having sex with you isn't like having sex with like, Tweek. You're fifteen. Don't you have self-image issues or something?"

Morgan shot him a skeptical look. "Everyone wants to have sex with me. Why would I have self-image issues? Even Filmore Anderson, South Park High's biggest chick magnet, wants to get into my pants."

"Then why aren't you having sex with him?"

The brunet averted his eyes out the window, the first sign of awkwardness Kenny had seen.

"He's Ike Broflovski's best friend."