A/N: I'm sorry this update took a while! I really loved reading your reviews (each one multiple times) - they're what spurred me on to write whenever I could! THANK YOU!
Christophe and Gregory watched from their usual spot against the wall as they could see Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Cartman and Gary in the distance. Christophe was trying to work out what game they were playing. It used a football but was a strange version of it. It involved nestling the ball in Kyle's thick hair and then batting it off his head, wrestling to grab it and get it to their line, not really following any rules but everyone knowing what was allowed and not. Gary and Stan seemed to be competitively into it, Kyle was yelling because Cartman kept pushing him for no reason and Kenny was using the opportunity to grope everyone.
"They're all idiots," said Gregory, frowning down at his nails as he inspected them. He did not seem happy with what he saw. Christophe half expected him to get out a nail file. He rolled his eyes and looked at his own nails curiously - dirty, short and bitten.
"Come on," he grumbled, putting his hand down, "zat's not true."
Gregory sighed. "Fine. Gary's a lovely person. I like Gary. And Kyle isn't so bad, really, apart from a bad taste in best friends; I've worked with him in class before."
"You're mainly talking about Stan aren't you?"
"Of course."
"Eh, give him a break." It's not like Stan spent every minute of his life getting stuck in trees...
"Well don't you see 'idiot' branded across his forehead? What do you see when you look at him?"
"When I look at Stan Marsh I want to rip all his clothes off, suck every last inch of his skin and fuck him until he can't remember his own name." Christophe calmly took a final drag on the cigarette that had been hanging out of his mouth, and then stomped it out. He laughed at Gregory's startled expression.
"Right," Gregory said slowly. "Well that's disturbing."
"Don't you mean hot? I want to make him into a sweaty and panting mess all over his own floor, and zen when he's trying to get clean een ze shower, I want to press him against ze tiles and-"
"Stop, Tophe! You're bordering on psychotic! And I know you don't mean it!" Christophe chuckled to himself at how wrong Gregory was. He smirked and pushed himself off the wall, looking over at the football again.
"I'm going to join zem een zeir leetle game."
"Why?" Gregory frowned. "They're idiots and you never talk to them."
"So?" Christophe started walking. "Eet's football, eet doesn't matter."
"It's American football," muttered Gregory. "And they're not even using their feet."
"Bonjour, beetches," Christophe said loudly, standing at the edge of their game. They all stopped and turned to him. Stan's eyes widened and Kenny raised his eyebrow.
"Hey," said Gary cheerily, holding the ball and grinning.
"Could you use someone to even up ze teams?" Christophe kept his attitude uncaring but smiled a little. He was sure that most of them would be shocked he was even talking to them, let alone being nice. He looked at Gary's smiling and inclusive expression, Kyle and Cartman's shocked and slightly nervous ones, Kenny's probing one and lastly, Stan's blush. He loved Stan's blush - it made him want to stroke Stan's face to feel if it was getting hot.
"We already have to play with the Mormon and the Jew, but now we're going to let the Brit play too?" asked Cartman in annoyance, glaring at Christophe.
"Oh, no, definitely not!" Stan said grinning. "But we'll let Frenchy play." He patted Christophe's back in a way that signified he was accepted. It made Christophe's back tingle slightly, and not because Stan had patted it hard.
Gary grinned. "Great! You can be with me and Kyle. We're a couple points behind-"
"-because Cartman isn't playing fairly," finished Kyle, glaring at his opponent.
"Eh, I'll sort him out," promised Christophe, smirking and getting into position. He noticed Cartman frown at that and move a little further down the field, avoiding eye contact. Good. Christophe was competitive and he was not prepared to take any nonsense from the fat one. He could see why Gary and Kyle were on the same team now - it was easier for everyone if they didn't have to work with Cartman's intolerance. He glanced across at Gregory as the ball was being batted from Kyle's head and saw that he was filing his nails with a rather bored expression.
Gary ran with the ball and was soon tackled by Kenny whose hands seemed much more interested in stroking his chest and grabbing his arms than they did in actually getting the ball. Christophe laughed, finding Gary's blushing face and giggles amusing. He found as he continued playing that Kenny was adding little help to the other team because he seemed set on tickling Gary given any opportunity; Christophe had to admit it was fun to do and had found himself doing it during one tackle. Cartman seemed much more interested in shoving Kyle, but when he did get the ball often scored.
The person that seemed to be winning the opposition most of their points was Stan who was terrifically good at dodging people. Even Christophe was having trouble grabbing him. He'd soon set it as his goal to do, and realised he needed to stay near Stan if he was going to get the chance.
He ran with the ball, passing it to Gary as he saw Cartman blocking his path. Kenny immediately sprung on Gary as if coming out of nowhere, like he'd been lurking. Gary burst into laughter and threw the ball into the air. Stan caught it. Christophe saw it as his chance. With a glint in his eye he started chasing the other boy, this time putting everything into it, running like he knew he could.
"Kill him, Tophe!" yelled Gregory from the sidelines, who had been watching between texting someone on his phone. Christophe knew Gregory was too uptight and bothered about his appearance to join in, which was a shame because he was good at sports, just like he was good at everything else.
Christophe grinned and threw himself at Stan, grabbing him around the waist and tackling him to the floor. He felt the outline of Stan's body through his coat, and the heat coming from his red face. He had to restrain himself from kissing Stan's cheeks at that like he really wanted to. The way they fell meant their legs were tangled together and their bodies pressed, chests together. He moved with the rise and fall of Stan's panted breathing. The ball became an obstacle between them rather than what they were fighting over and for a second - as he felt Stan's breath on his face - Christophe was convinced they were going to kiss.
But then he heard Kyle yelling above him and thought to take the ball from Stan's loose grip and throw it up. He got off Stan then, and stood up, offering a hand out.
"You're losing, Marsh," he said with a smirk on his face; Stan seemed to only be able to laugh in response, like he hadn't heard or wasn't listening properly. They both held the grip a little longer than needed before they let go. "Would you like to come over tonight?" he continued in a low voice.
Stan looked away and blushed as he nodded. "Sure."
"Good." Christophe ran back into the game with the intent to beat Stan now and beat him off later.
After Christophe disappointingly didn't kill Stan, Gregory decided he'd had enough of standing and watching the stupid game, particularly as a certain someone had just texted him with a very enticing offer of where he could be - a place that for safety reasons he couldn't be seen in too often. A text had come through on his phone saying that it was time for his tutoring session, and he knew what that meant.
He straightened his clothes and made sure his hair was in perfect order by looking in his hand mirror as he walked down the corridor. Since he'd broken up with Wendy, he'd decided there was no point toning down the 'gay' anymore. And though he wasn't officially announcing it, he was sure everyone knew.
"Gregory!" called a voice from behind him. The blond sighed and turned around, putting his mirror back in his pocket as he did and cursing to himself. People always wanted to talk to him most when he had somewhere he needed to be - preferably sprawled over the English teacher's office desk as they heatedly kissed each other and pressed their bodies close. He stopped and looked up with a sigh.
"Craig darling, always a pleasure."
Craig rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend you care about me."
"Fine." Gregory put his hands on his hips and frowned. "What can I do for you?"
"I was just wondering about Christophe..." Craig began slowly, almost awkwardly. Why would this be? Gregory raised his eyebrow and smirked.
"Why? Desperately missing him are we?"
"No," Craig replied. "Have you seen him acting differently recently? I can't explain it, but I think he seems more animated about things, and he's smiling more." Gregory actually hadn't noticed this, because Christophe's moods went up and down so frequently that he'd stopped noticing as much. Also he had to admit that he'd been very involved in his own life: dealing with the emotions that would suddenly wash over him about his Grandma, and of course dealing with the problems dating a teach brought up.
"He must just be happy."
"Yeah, that's the thing, it seems like a different kind of happy... a deeper one?"
"Are you suddenly the expert in emotions?"
Craig sighed. "I guess I just wanted to know if he has a new boyfriend? For selfish reasons."
"... He hasn't mentioned one." Gregory narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Craig, eyeing him suspiciously. "Do you know something I don't?" Suddenly Gregory's mind was whirring, thinking over anyone Christophe may have been more friendly with recently. The football game immediately came into his mind. Of course. If there was anyone, it could be one of them. He quickly eliminated Stan from the equation - Christophe wouldn't have joked about sex with him if he really was seeing him, and besides, it was a laughable thought to think of them together. It had to be someone more like Gary or Kyle (though wasn't he madly in love with Bebe?) ... perhaps Kenny. Those were the three, if any.
"I don't know anything," said Craig. "And it looks like you don't either." He nodded his head and then walked past Gregory without saying another word.
"It was nice talking to you, too, darling," called Gregory after him. Craig didn't reply, but Gregory hardly cared. He decided he'd bring the boyfriend issue up in a conversation sometime, just subtly. Christophe had never hidden anything like that from him before and it was curious.
But for now he was already late...
Stan realised he hadn't noticed much about Christophe's house the first time he was in it. He'd entered it unconscious and left in a daze, very quickly. That's why when he entered into the pink living room - after having walked from school with Christophe - he was surprised to see a rather colourful bird staring at him.
"Oh, a parrot!" He grinned and stepped closer to the stand where the parrot was sitting. There was a cage nearby but it was out of it and on a specially designed area. It had a beautiful green body, with a yellow head and patches of red at the top of its wings. It turned its head to Stan when he approached. "Hello!"
Christophe smiled and stood beside him. "His name ees Pepe. I got 'im on my seventh birthday." He turned to his pet. "Bonjour, Pepe."
"Bonjour, Pepe," repeated the bird.
Stan laughed and Christophe grinned. "I'm so used to having Gregory run up ze stairs quickly and avoid Pepe, not feeling safe until he was back een ze cage. I'm glad you like 'im."
Stan frowned. "Why would Gregory do that?"
"Because he's unbelievably terrified of birds, even ze thought. I think eet's ze beaks or something. It was some kind of childhood trauma at a zoo." Christophe sighed when Stan burst into amused laughter and shook his head. "I shouldn't 'av told you zat. Don't tell anyone, please. And don't tease Gregory." Christophe looked at him gravely. "I mean eet."
"Mean it," repeated the bird.
Stan nodded, seeing the seriousness in Christophe's face. "I won't. I promise," he said seriously, before sniggering to himself at the image of Gregory running away from a tiny bird chirping in the trees. "Is he afraid of bird prints too? Because I think Wendy had a top like that."
Christophe rolled his eyes. "Well maybe zat's why he broke up wiz her." He hit Stan lightly on the back of the head. Stan chuckled and decided to shut up about it; after all, he knew what it felt like to have a deep fear of something. Snakes had always turned him into a quivering mess. He jumped when the parrot talked again.
"Squidward." The parrot whistled and clicked it's mouth. "Ohhh." Stan cocked his head and watched him talk to himself. "D'accord. D'accord."
"Uh huh." Christophe laughed and whispered, "He does this a lot, just talks saying what he's heard from the TV... Please, don't judge me."
The parrot bobbed it's head up and down. "Wheel of..." He clucked his tongue again. "No." Stan was so entertained and kept listening, hearing the hints of TV shows. Everything was shocking him but he wasn't truly stunned until he heard, "Sponge... bob Squarepants!" and then a perfect whistle to finish off the tune.
He turned with a grin to Christophe who was blushing deeply. "It is a very good show."
"Just... Just..." Christophe was about to push Stan towards the stairs when his mother walked in from the kitchen, smiling with her eyebrows raised at Stan. Stan noticed Christophe frown.
"I didn't know you were home," he grumbled, looking distractedly around. His mother just seemed to ignore his negative attitude and step closer to Stan.
"I'm not needed for my weekly nightshift zis time," she replied, still looking at Stan. "Are you Stan?" He nodded and she turned to Christophe, saying something else in French that he didn't understand. All he could pick out were the words 'little' and 'friend'. Christophe blushed and nodded his head rapidly, mumbling a reply. She grinned and turned back to him. "Hello. Eet ees nice to meet you."
Stan didn't let the confusion he was feeling inside play on his face, instead he nodded. "It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am." He would have called her Mrs DeLorne but he was uncertain of whether she still used that name or not. He knew that Christophe's dad wasn't around but he didn't know much else.
"Okay, zat's great, we're going now." Christophe pulled Stan's arm lightly, trying to lead him towards the stairs.
"But you haven't let me speak to him!"
"You don't need to, Mozer, he has nozing to say." Why would Christophe's mom want to talk to him? Stan let himself be dragged, having no idea what to do. "We're going now."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I understand. Ees Stan staying for dinner?" Stan's stomach flipped - that surely didn't sound like a good idea? Though of course, they were friends, so why couldn't he?
"I - uh..."
"I'm makeeng Dauphinoise potatoes and chicken, and eet easily serves three." She nodded her head and walked into the kitchen before either boy had time to reply. Stan blushed and looked at Christophe who just shrugged in reply.
"I guess you're staying for dinner."
"... Kay."
"Mozer ees a very good cook." Christophe smiled and then turned and led Stan to his room quickly. When they got to his room, Stan stood awkwardly in the middle of it and posed a question.
"Why does your mom know my name?"
Christophe froze and seemed to cringe, green eyes burning into Stan for a moment that was shocking and slightly intimidating. Then he sighed and spoke. "I told her you're my boyfriend."
"What?! Why!?"
"Because she's very good at reading people and suspected I'd been seeing someone and she can just tell zat I've been having sex. She wouldn't like ze fact we're just casual sex. So I had to pretend like eet was serious." Christophe smiled awkwardly. "Uh... sorry?"
"No, no, it's fine, dude." Stan bit his lip. "Do what you have to."
Christophe really hoped Stan understood. He reached out a hand and pulled on Stan's lower lip with his finger, frowning. "Don't bite eet. You'll make eet all cracked." He smirked. "Let me bite eet eef anything." He leaned into Stan and kissed him, but found himself doing it softly and not biting. He pushed Stan towards the bed. With both their eyes closed, they gently fell back together, still kissing slowly.
Christophe laced his fingers in Stan's hair and felt him place his hands on his waist, stroking lazily. They breathed slow and lay close together, neither being the one to make things proceed. Something inside Christophe was enjoying this moment; a fluttering was slowly entering his stomach, a peaceful understanding around them. He found he didn't want anything more than just lying this way, his body didn't want more. He breathed in Stan's smell, took in his warmth, felt how soft his was, and continued kissing happily - it felt good to do this, different, but good.
Stan ended up on top of him, slowly, very faintly grinding but nothing that would lead to anything more than them letting out an occasional quiet groan. They both slowly pulled the other's shirt off but didn't go any lower. Maybe Christophe was tired. Maybe this was the reason why he was happy for the gentleness with Stan. It felt like more though, building inside of him, a feeling, until Stan pulled away and sat up on him, gazing down contently with bright blue eyes and parted pink lips, then Christophe knew for sure that this was more.
Tacit understanding passed between them that there was something, indefinable perhaps, but real. It was not to be brought to light or spoken of - in a move that would make everything too complicated at that moment - but it could be felt and shared through no words, using soft kisses instead. They remained silent until Stan leaned down again and grazed his lips over Christophe's neck.
Christophe swallowed, throat dry. He stroked his hands over Stan's back, nervously wondering what to say that wouldn't sound like he wanted to get too personal. There were probably a million questions he wanted to ask Stan, but he couldn't think of any. "Uh..."
"Mmmm, yes?" Stan mumbled as he kissed over Christophe's chest lightly. It relieved Christophe that Stan seemed to want the gentleness too and took away from any awkwardness about not actually having any sex.
"... Have you had a nice day?" He tried to make it sound casual, just a passing question rather than asking it like a boyfriend would say it, though, right now he probably was sounding like that. Oh shit. He was failing miserably at being casual. Stan tilted his head to frown up at him and he forced a half-interested smile.
"No actually," replied Stan, pouting a little - too cute, too cute. "Some mean French guy beat me up and stole my football. Then later he and my best friend made fun of me for losing and they pushed me over and the only sympathy I got was from a Mormon."
Christophe laughed. "Well maybe you should get better zen." He pinched Stan's ass in warning. "And I deed not push you over, you fell."
Stan sat up, still on Christophe. "No I didn't."
"Yes, you deed."
"... Shut up," concluded Stan, moving off Christophe and sitting on the bed next to him. Christophe understood that now they'd interrupted the kissing with talking it had to stop. Kissing bodies and talking at the same time would feel far too intimate. "I could easily win playing you one-on-one."
"You are so full of sheet."
"I could so beat you." Stan narrowed his eyes. "I'm on the team."
"Well we'll have to see."
"Why not now? I'm ready to win." Stan grinned. "Do you have a football?" He even pulled his t-shirt on, showing how serious he was in this competition. It was a characteristic Christophe found insanely hot. "I know you don't back down from a challenge."
"Damn right I don't," growled Christophe, grabbing for his shirt. "My football ees een ze-"
"Dinner ees ready!" interrupted his mother's shout from downstairs. He let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes at Stan.
"Of course eet ees." He pulled his shirt over his head and replied. "Coming!" He laughed at how eagerly Stan had stood up and started heading for the door. "Calm down, eet's just dinner."
"I know but, fuck, it sounds and smells so delicious, and my mom hardly ever cooks anymore. This... this is exciting."
"My mozer cooks like zis every night."
"I'm so jealous." He sounded jealous too. Christophe wanted to offer for Stan to stay for dinner more often - his mother always cooked too much, always enough for three. He knew that she cooked enough for them and his father, sure his mother knew it too. Him leaving had been a very good thing but that past was something she couldn't free herself from. Dinner had been one of the more positive memories in their house - all the wonderful dishes passed between them, his father boasting about his day at work, the tastes and the laughter of proper family time before it all broke down at night. They ate early so that his father would eat with them, because once it got to a certain time, it was off to the bar...
"Chris, are you okay?" Stan had a hand on his shoulder and was frowning. "You were miles away."
"Eh?" Christophe came back to reality and smiled. "Oui, I just... eef you want a real food experience you should go to Gregory's on a Sunday. Crispy roast potatoes and beef all smothered een gravy with homemade Yorkshire puddings. And zere's zis carrot and swede mash."
"Mmmm, I'd go and eat that, sure, if Gregory wasn't going to be there."
"Could you put up wiz 'im eef you got to indulge een ze best sticky toffee pudding in the world for dessert."
"Maybe..."
"What eef we gag 'im?"
"Okay." Stan grinned. They both laughed and then ran down the stairs as his mother called them again, before she got the wrong idea about what they may have been doing, or got mad and refused to serve them. As it was it went perfectly and Stan was so appreciative that his mother was beaming by the end of the meal, practically begging for him to come again soon. Christophe was beaming too. Having Stan for dinner felt strangely wonderful.