Author's Note: XD Sorry for a cheesy chapter. I think the humor runs thick to balance all of the eventual smut. I took a crack at Butters' favorite Chicago ballad, "If You Leave Me Now," because all diehard Butters fans know how unusually fond he is of it. So it becomes an annoyingly stuck-in-his-head kind of thing while he's thinking about Cartman. Soooo cheesy. But cute. I couldn't help but throw in the "Loo, Loo, Loo" song either. Please R&R, I promise smut in the next chapter (clearly). All previous disclaimers apply.

Bully

Chapter Seven

by MT Yami

Stan Marsh sat with his head resting against the back wall of the school, trying very hard to focus on his cigarette and not on the rancid smell coming from the dumpster and the equally rancid ranting of his girlfriend.

"Stan, you should have been there, I was so pissed off—"

"Goddammit bitch, we get the fucking point!" Cartman snarled, almost choking on the thick cloud of smoke he had inhaled in his anger. "You haven't stopped yakking about it since we got here!"

"Heh, at least you didn't have to hear her all weekend," Stan lamented. Wendy shot him a look.

He chuckled and put an arm about her shoulders, squeezing her gently. "Just kidding."

"You'd better be." The dark-haired girl looked pointedly at Kyle and Cartman. "If you boys would just keep it in your pants once in a while—"

"We've been over this! I was fucking wasted." Kyle sulked, reaching for another cigarette. "Jeez, Stan, I feel bad for you. She makes it sound like you never get any at all!"

"Pretty much," Stan mumbled. Wendy glared at him and he cringed.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Well, guys, for your information, I didn't do anything except drink on Friday night." Cartman rolled his eyes. "Duh."

"That's 'cause you're a fat fuck," retorted Kyle. "Who would do it with you?"

"'Ey! At least I'm not some scrawny freckled Jew-fag daywalker!"

"Jesus Christ, Cartman, just drop the daywalker thing! And quit undermining my people!"

"Guys, guys!" Stan shook his head. "Are you guys ever going to stop?"

"Fuck no." The behemoth and the redhead folded their arms and huffed almost simultaneously.

"I don't think Cartman necessarily went empty-handed on Friday." Wendy was looking at Cartman curiously, and the larger boy began to inwardly panic.

Stan did a double-take. "What do you mean by that?"

It seemed like forever before Wendy answered, and Cartman ground his teeth nervously. Bitch better choose her words wisely.

To his relief, she merely shrugged. "Dunno. Everyone was pretty drunk, and he did disappear for a while."

"Probably to throw up his fat guts in the bathroom and cry about it."

"Kahyle, I'm gonna fuckin' put you in a concentration camp and gas you if you don't shut the fuck up!"

"Yeah? Well the thought of some girl getting it on with you makes me wanna hurl. Damn, if you did get some on Friday, Cartman, that girl must've been wasted out of her mind."

"Well, Kahyle, I would rather that than be popping out ginger babies with that firecrotch you were humping all night!"

Stan shook his head and lit another cigarette. Damn Monday assemblies. He almost wished he hadn't skipped it now, because it was going to be a long morning.

--

"Hey Butters?"

"What?"

Kenny held the smaller blond's hips and cocked his head. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Butters muttered. "Hurry up, assembly's going to be over in fifteen."

"Whatever, bitch. I'll take as long as I want." Kenny thrust himself into Butters hard, but was miffed to see that the other boy's expression never changed. He lay with his cheek pressed down against the cool metal bench, motionless, pale eyes unusually blank.

"Dude, seriously. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Totally fine."

It was like Butters had been numb all weekend. Friday night replayed in his head over and over whether he liked it or not, and every single time it was like a kick in the gut. Frankly, the petite blond was getting mighty sick of all the drama, and wished something would just happen.

Suddenly he thought of Cartman's face, the priceless expression he wore when he came. It sent a shockwave through his body and he moaned unconsciously.

"That's more like it." Kenny grinned lewdly. "Just…a little bit…more."

Aw, shit. Butters frowned. I'm a fucking mess. To make matters worse, his favorite Chicago ballad, "If You Leave Me Now," came to mind and got stuck on replay. Shucks, now this feels like a soap opera.

If you leave me now, you'll take away the biggest part of me…ooooh, no, baby please don't go…

It perturbed him how addicted he was to the larger boy. No matter how many times Cartman ran away or looked like he seriously regretted things after they happened, Butters couldn't help but think that the fact that he kept coming back was reason enough to hope that maybe, just maybe, Cartman felt the same way too.

And if you leave me now, you'll take away the very heart of me…ooooh, no, baby please don't go…

Butters almost giggled as he realized that Kenny had already come and was slipping out of him. It was probably not the funniest thing in the whole world, but the idea that Cartman combined with the almost-annoying-now overplaying of the Chicago ballad occupied so much of his being that he couldn't even acknowledge that he was having sex was either just hilarious or pretty sad on Kenny's part. The taller blond didn't say anything, looking confused and mildly uncomfortable. He zipped up his pants and pulled on his parka, unsure of what had just happened.

"Um, 'kay, well, I'll see you tomorrow, I guess." He left quickly, looking anxious to get out of Butters' company.

The petite boy sighed and began dressing himself, but as soon as he buttoned up his pants he found that he couldn't hold back the tears for a second longer. There was no way Butters could stand for any of it anymore. Cartman always coming and going, making him think one thing or another and then turning him upside down once again. The intense highs and the crushing lows. The bet with the girls. Bradley. He even felt bad for Kenny and the newfound awkwardness between them.

A love like ours is love that's hard to find, how could we let it slip away? We've come too far to leave it all behind, how could we end it all this way…?

And the worst part was that Butters couldn't let go of how incredibly good it felt to be with Cartman. It was intoxicating, every moment of it, a veritable narcotic effect. Nothing felt more like home than being wrapped up in his thick, powerful arms, his dark gaze. When he was with Cartman, Butters felt safe, beautiful, cherished…hell, even sexy…until, that is, the bigger boy realized what was going on and turned tail.

"Stupid coward." He shook his head. Cartman would never admit it; there was always going to be an excuse for why he would touch Butters or even pay attention to him in the first place. If he wasn't using him for his own purposes as he had done for so many years now, he was drunk, he was curious, he was just messing with him…the excuses were, decidedly, endless. After all, it was Cartman.

When tomorrow comes and we'll both regret the things we said today…

Butters slid his shirt on and noted that all of his bruises from the previous week were fading nicely. It was too bad then, he mused, that now the bruises ran even deeper.

--

The lunch table seemed almost too quiet, which made Butters a little antsy. Quiet estrogen is dangerous estrogen.

Bebe was twirling her curls around her finger and occasionally craning her neck to look over Annie's shoulder as she doodled on a notebook. Heidi silently chased that last bit of ranch dressing with a carrot stick and Rebecca kept nervously eyeing the boys' table clear across the room. Finally, Wendy kicked her to break the silence.

"Ow! Fuck, Wendy, what was that for?"

"To make you stop staring at Kyle!" Wendy retorted. "We have bigger problems on our hands right now."

Butters bit into his sandwich thoughtfully. "I don't think there's a problem."

"What are you talking about? The guys are getting way too involved with us." Wendy tapped a celery stick on the table. "Something has got to be done!"

Bebe rolled her eyes. "Let's remind you, Wendy. We're eighteen. Of course the boys are involved with us. Or in us. Whatever." She giggled.

"No. I mean…their world is not supposed to revolve around us. This morning, Cartman and Kyle argued about girls the whole time during assembly!" Butters didn't dare tell Wendy that it was probably because she started the conversation in the first place. It was just safer that way.

Rebecca leaned in. "Oh? What'd they say?" She tried hard to contain obvious excitement, but failed miserably. Wendy glared at her.

"See? That's exactly why they're involved with us! Because we care."

The blond boy shrugged. "Well, duh. I care. I want Cartman to care."

"Ha! That's a laugh," Wendy scoffed. "There are two things Cartman cares about in this world: money, and the thought of screwing another person over because he's right. He probably got his panties up in a bunch this morning because he and Kyle had a running bet that Red was a firecrotch and as it turned out, she's not! The fatass was fuming, jeez, I bet that guy never walks away from a bet—"

"Boy howdy, Wendy, you're a genius!"

Before Rebecca could retort to the previous comment, Butters stood up, leaned across the table, and grabbed Wendy's face in his hands. The raven-haired girl stared up at him, startled.

"I'll bet Cartman five hundred dollars that he doesn't have the balls to sleep with me."

Rebecca raised a hand. "That's against the rules of the Cartman Bet, no monetary bribing—"

Butters grinned, almost cat-like. "Well, ah, he only gets the money if he wins, right?"

"Wow, you're good." A slow smile grew on Wendy's face as Butters released her. "Damn loophole, you're the genius here."

"It's never going to work," Heidi commented, munching on her last carrot stick. "I mean, it's Cartman, but he's not that stupid."

"If he already wants to do it, then the bet should be enough to push him over the edge," said Bebe. "You should have seen Cartman at Chrome on Friday night. The second we walked into the club, Butters had him hook, line, and sinker. I think it's pretty brilliant."

When the second lunch bell rang and the girls began going their separate ways, Butters gathered his Hello Kitty lunchbox and fought the urge to wring his hands. You aren't nervous. This is exactly what you want. He won't run away from a bet, right…?

Nervous, the blond did the only thing he knew how to do in such a situation—burst out into song.

"Loo, loo, loo, I got some apples. Loo, loo, loo, you got some too. Loo, loo, loo, let's make some applesauce, take off our clothes and loo, loo, loo!"

Needless to say, the only thing his favorite childhood ditty managed to do was make a lot of people stare at him oddly. Butters scurried out of the lunchroom, afraid that his sandwich was going to come back up for a swan song.

--

"E-eric?"

Butters slowly approached the larger boy, who was halfway into the passenger side of his truck, digging around for something.

"Shut up Butters, I'm looking for my bucket of chicken wings."

"Well shucks, I wanted to talk to you about—"

Cartman rounded upon him then, grabbing his neck and pushing him up against the side of the truck. His face was flushed, his teeth gritted hard. Butters had never seen him so angry, but their close proximity still made his cheeks burn.

"Look, fag, I was drunk off my ass that night, and it's not my fault that your little penchant for crossdressing made me think you were a chick. It was a total mistake, and we're never ever going to talk about it ever again, do I make myself clear? If you say a word to anyone about what happened, I swear to God, Butters, I will whip your sorry ass into a pulp."

Tears welled up in Butters' eyes and he swatted them away quickly, unsure if they resulted from the pressure of Cartman's fingers on his neck or his harsh words. The bigger boy let go of him angrily and began walking away.

Butters slid down the side of the truck and sank onto his heels, watching Cartman leave. He narrowed his eyes. I'm not going to let him walk away. Not again.

"You stop right there, Eric Cartman, or boy howdy, I'll tell everyone everything!"

He saw the massive boy stiffen and turn around, his thick jaw clenched. Cartman pressed two fingers at his temple and growled.

"What is it, assmaster? Make it fast."

The petite boy got to his feet and hurried over to the irate Cartman. He fought the urge to wring his hands and set his pale blue eyes in a defiant stare.

"I b-bet you five hundred bucks that you don't have the b-balls to sleep with me."

"…E-excuse me?" Cartman looked thunderstruck.

"Shucks, you heard me. I am going to bet you five hundred dollars, in cash, that you aren't man enough to have s-sex with m-me." That was it. Butters' hands began wringing themselves of their own accord.

"Well fuck n—" The larger boy paused for a moment, dollar signs cranking their way into his mental process. "Wait, you said five hundred dollars? In cash?"

"Yeah."

A slow smile crept up onto Cartman's face. Butters had seen it many times before; it was his trademark "I'm-so-going-to-fuck-someone-over-and-get-rich" grin. This time, however, the blond boy knew he had the upper hand.

"Well?"

Cartman grabbed him by the shirt collar. Butters gulped, seeing that dangerous, greedy glint in the bigger boy's eyes.

"Ah, well, it looks like you and I will be having a little sleepover tonight then, Butters. My house, nine o'clock. You are so going to get fucked, and I'm going to take your money and swim in it. Got it?"

A little amazed that his plan had worked, Butters could only nod. He dropped to the ground as soon as the bigger boy left and oddly began to have second thoughts.