Author Notes: Many thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, and to those who didn't. I just realised that I only ever thank people who review, and that's kind of rude. So, thanks everyone! This chapter is pretty long, over 6,000 words. So please do try not to fall asleep half way through like I did when I was proof-reading it. Enjoy!

Chapter 10 - Better

Another week of me singlehandedly keeping Cartman satisfied has passed, and still nobody suspects a thing. Sneaking around isn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. Kenny tends to prefer hanging out with Craig and those guys nowadays and Stan has Wendy to distract him a lot of the time, so neither of them tend to question where Cartman and I disappear off to together.

Even when we're in a group situation, we manage to steal a moment or two together. Like on Wednesday when a group of us went to the movies together, we both snuck off to the bathroom and fooled around in one of the stalls. When we returned to our seats looking flushed and messy, we blamed it on fighting. We missed most of the movie, but so what? I doubt any movie could be as interesting as fooling around with Cartman anyway.

Speaking of interesting, ever since the conversation we had at Stan's sleepover, Cartman's been...different. Not drastically, but certain things about him have changed, insignificantly enough that I think I'm the only one who actually notices. For example, when we're ripping on each other, his voice lacks a lot of it usual venom - his tone is a lot more teasing than malicious. And when we're alone together, whether it's just for a minute in the hallway at school or laying in bed after sex, he'll talk to me more openly, like he doesn't hate me as much anymore. Like he's my friend.

It's almost like the string we added to our agreement has given him a sense of security, and somehow he's happier and, dare I say, nicer because of that. Either that or I've worn him out to the point that he doesn't have the energy to be an asshole anymore. Whatever the reason, I'm not complaining. It's making my life a hell of a lot easier.

Anyway, today is Saturday. It's the middle of the afternoon and I'm curled up on the couch with a good book. I snuck out to Cartman's for a couple of hours last night, so my body still feels warm and relaxed from the fun we had. Ike is sat on the other side of the couch watching hockey on TV as usual, which is much of the reason why I started reading. The only cool thing about hockey is the fights. They're fucking hilarious and so totally fake, like something right out of pro-wrestling. Ike disagrees and thinks I'm retarded for thinking that way. That's fine – the feeling's mutual.

Suddenly I hear my mom's thunderous footsteps on the stairs behind us. I glance up from my book to see a stern look on her face. Oh, Jesus - what have I done this time?

'Bubbeleh, why are your father's books on the floor in the bottom of your closet?'

Oh, for the love of Moses! Why the hell is it that she still feels the need to snoop around my room? I tidy it myself so she has no good reason to be in there. I appreciate that's it's her house and all, but I'm a teenager. I'm entitled to just a little privacy, surely.

'I'm just not interested in reading them right now, Mom.'

'But you'll be going to college soon, Kyle. The sooner you acquaint yourself with the material you'll be studying, the better.'

Aw, shit. I really don't want to get into this conversation right now. But I guess she's right about one thing – before I know it, I'll be sending out college applications. I'll need to make my intentions clear at some point. I clear my throat and place my book down on the couch beside me. Ike gives me a fearful look out of the corner of his eye – I've discussed my career plans with him before, and he knows as well as I do that Mom won't like what I have in mind.

'Look Ma, I've been thinking. I'm not sure that being a lawyer is the right career for me.'

She narrows her eyes as she approaches me, choosing to stand and hover over me in that intimidating way that she does rather than sit down and talk to me the way a nice, understanding mom would.

'What are you talking about, Kyle? Your father was a lawyer, your uncles are all lawyers and so was your grandfather.'

'I know. I just don't see that as a valid reason for me to want to be one.'

Her hands are on her hips now. She looks like a gigantic angry screech owl. I have Ike to thank for making that comparison a few months back. If I laugh right now and get grounded, I'll kick his ass.

'Of course you want to be one,' Mom presses. 'Ike wants to be a lawyer too. Don't you, Ike?'

I've asked Ike this question before. His answer to me was, 'Hell no, I wanna play pro-hockey!' But of course, since its mom asking, he nods and smiles politely. Stupid Canadian.

'Mom, you can't dictate what I'm going to be when I grow up. If I choose to study law, I'll be stuck with that choice for the rest of my life. I want to do something that I'll enjoy.'

'You mean waste your life on playing sports like your friend Stanley? Do you have any idea how rare it is to make it as a professional sportsman?'

I hear Ike sigh softly. Poor kid. He may not have been born with a backbone, but I was.

'Stan's hardly wasting his life, mom. He's been the quarterback on every team he's been on since third grade! He's even getting a scholarship. And when did I say anything about wanting to play sport? I've really been thinking about this and I feel I'd be good at doing somethi-'

She turns her back and starts taking items out of a laundry basket to fold. I guess that's the end of that conversation then.

'We'll discuss this further when your father gets home, Kyle. Now go to your room and do your homework.'

I scowl. 'I've done all my homework.'

'Well, go to your room anyway.'

My teeth grind together as I feel myself starting to get angry. If there's one thing I've got from my mom other than her big stupid nose, it's her big stupid temper.

'I'm 16, Mom! Ya know, nearly an adult. You can't just send me to my room anymore, especially when I haven't done anything wrong.'

'Now, Kyle!'

'You're being unreasonable!'

'Kyle, do as I say!'

'Screw this!'

I suddenly leap off the couch, startling both Ike and Mom. Grabbing my coat from the hanger, I storm out of the front door and slam it behind me. I can hear Mom shrieking after me from inside the house, but I don't slow my pace as I stomp down on the path to the sidewalk. I need to go for a walk and cool off.

God, she pisses me off so much sometimes! What the hell does it matter what I do for a career as long as I'm happy? She probably only wants me to be a lawyer so that she can brag to all the other Jewish moms about how successful her son is, same reason why she wants me to stay a virgin until the day I marry a nice Jewish girl and have two kids. I can't wait to see her face the day that she finds out that's not gonna be a possibility either. Or her reaction to the fact that her precious bubbeleh's cherry has already been popped by the town Nazi.

I really need to blow off some steam. Usually when this is the case, I head for Stan's place to play video games. But today, my body has automatically walked in the opposite direction to Stan's house. Or more specifically, I've automatically gone in the direction of Cartman's house. I guess that's where I'll go then – a little aggressive sex will probably help me cool off quicker than playing video games anyway. I should probably feel guilty that I've opted for Cartman over Stan, but I don't. God knows he's done it to me enough when it comes to Wendy.

I reach Cartman's front door and knock loudly. I hear his usual annoyed shouts as he stomps to answer the door. When he flings it open, his glare melts into a surprised smile. He catches himself smiling and forces his face into a neutral expression. I smirk inwardly - I dare say that he actually looked happy to see me for a second there!

'Hey, Jew.'

'Hey, fatass.'

He steps back to let me in and closes the door behind us. I turn my head towards him briefly to check him out and I'm vaguely aware of him doing the same to me. We're both in jeans and t-shirts today and that's just fine – Cartman still looks totally fucking irresistible as far as I'm concerned. He gestures for me to follow him up the stairs.

'I'm in my room right now,' he explains over his shoulder. 'My mom's getting ready to go out and I'm trying to stay the hell out of her way.'

That's understandable – I don't think I'd want to see my mom all dolled up for a night of whoring either. In fact, the idea of it sends shivers down my spine. As soon as the bedroom door closes behind us, Cartman pulls me into his arms and kisses me firmly. My eager lips part and our tongues dance together excitedly as they greet each other. When we separate, Cartman guides me over to his bed and gestures for me to sit. Rather than jumping straight in to molest me as he usually would, he sits down beside me and puts his hand on my knee, squeezing lightly.

'So Kyle, I didn't expect to see you again so soon. I thought I gave you plenty of good ol' fashioned ass-banging last night. You just can't get enough of me, can you?'

I roll my eyes. 'Knock it off, you egomaniac. I've just had a rough afternoon and need a little cheering up.'

Cartman takes that as an invitation to start kissing my neck. Of course, I'm more than happy to let him.

'Funny you should say that,' he says in between kisses. 'I could do with a little pick-me-up after the day I've had too.'

'How come?'

He pulls away from me a little and sighs. 'My mom took me to the vets today.'

'Why, what's wrong with you?'

Okay, that was mean, but I couldn't resist. Cartman glares at me, but it's only a half assed glare.

'Ya see, this is why we never come to each other with problems.'

I grin sheepishly. 'Sorry, dude. Was it your cat?'

'She got put to sleep.'

Shit. Now I feel guilty for making that dumb joke. Cartman really loved that cat. Well, he was fond of it anyway. I think Cartman's probably too emotionally cool to love anything. He either hates something or doesn't seem to care one way or the other. For lack of anything better to do, I take his hand in mine and squeeze it gently.

'That sucks. She was a cool cat. I know you were fond of her.'

He shrugs. 'Yeah, well. She was really old, couldn't really move all that good and was starting to smell bad. If I were in her position, I'd want someone to put me out of my misery too.'

Cartman listlessly glances at our joined hands and looks slightly uncomfortable. Taking the hint, I release his hand and pretend to scratch an itch at the back of my neck. He clears his throat.

'So what's up with you, Jew?'

I shake my head. 'Nah, my problem seems dumb compared to yours now.'

'I told you, it's not a big deal. Come on, I need a good laugh right now,' he smirks. 'Let me guess...your mom?'

I frown. I guess it was pretty obvious – whenever I have a problem, it's usually either because of my mom or him. Still, he doesn't have to be so fucking astute.

'Shut up, dude. I just told her I don't want to be a lawyer and she freaked out. She thinks I need to be just because my dad is.'

'I understand. I don't particularly want to join my family business either.'

I giggle at this. Cartman joins me, though his laugh sounds rather bitter.

'So if not a lawyer, what d'ya wanna do? Doctor? Accountant? Or are you just gonna find some rich old gay bastard to marry and then live off his fortune when he dies?'

'I wanna be a child therapist.'

Cartman takes a moment to absorb this information, slowly raising an eyebrow.

'Like...Mr Mackey?'

I snigger. 'Kind of.'

Cartman grins, but the look on his face tells me he needs a little more in the way of an explanation.

'I just remember all that shit we went through when we were kids and how much we appreciated having an understanding adult like Chef around to talk to. I feel like I could make such a difference offering kids a shoulder to cry on and helping make their lives just a little easier.'

'Mmm...that's pretty gay.'

'Hey! I think I'd be really good at it.'

'And I agree with you.'

My annoyed face switches to one of surprise. Did Cartman just compliment me there?

'Really?'

He shrugs. 'Sure. You're a good listener and stuff. I don't get your mom's problem. I mean, that's kinda like a doctor. Jew moms like their kids to be doctors too, right?'

'Yeah, exactly.'

It's so refreshing to get a reaction like that. When I told Stan, he said he supported my decision but felt that I was aiming way below my level of ability. Ike just said 'Cool, but whatever you do, don't tell mom.' I didn't expect Cartman to be so understanding. He's barely even ripped on me for it.

'So...what do you wanna do for a career?' I ask.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. 'Well...it's stupid. Kinda lame.'

I didn't know Cartman had an ambition, even if it is stupid and lame. How intriguing. 'What?'

'Guess.'

I say the first thing that pops into my head. 'Dictator of a Nazi regime?'

Cartman laughs. 'I wish!'

'Conman and extortionist?'

'Try again.'

'Professional pie eater?'

'No. And fuck you.' He flips me off but is still smirking.

'I give up. What?'

'...Let me show you.'

He reaches under the bed and pulls out a scrap book. I take it from him and flip it open to a random page. It's full of photographs of places that look familiar somehow. It takes me a while to realise that they're all photos of different parts of South Park. I barely recognise them because the photos make the places look so breath-taking. I glance up at Cartman, who seems to be waiting for my reaction.

'You took these?' He nods. 'Cartman, these are awesome.'

He turns his face away. 'I guess they're okay.'

'No, really. This one's so cool!'

I point out one in particular that I really like. It's a black and white photo of the old train tracks next to Kenny's house. The tracks are all snowy and look eerily beautiful. Cartman looks at what I'm pointing to and shrugs.

'It's not really. The angle's kinda off and I used the wrong light filter for the effect I wanted.'

I roll my eyes. Cartman's always had trouble taking compliments, especially from me. I flick through a few more pages of the scrap book before closing it and handing it back.

'Well, I think they're great. You could really do this as a career if you work at it.'

He allows himself to smile a little at this as he returns the scrap book to where it came from.

'In that case when you meet the fag of your dreams in the future, I'll do your commitment ceremony photography for a special price.'

I snigger. 'Sure. I guess I can always give you a discount on therapy in return.'

Cartman doesn't laugh. Instead, he gets a strange look on his face, like he's not too sure how to take what I've just said. I laugh nervously.

'I'm kidding, dude.'

He forces a smile, not meeting my eyes.

'Yeah, sure...anyway, wanna hang out for a while or something?'

* * * * *

It took me a while to get things back to being comfortable between us again. I soon found that pouncing on him and kissing him was the best course of action. He gladly kissed back, but when I tried to take things further, Cartman pushed me away and said he couldn't while his mom was still in the house. This surprised me, as we had actually done stuff when Liane was in the house a few times before. I guess I had really offended him with that therapy comment.

It probably did hit a little close to home – with all of Cartman's problems, chances are he really does need therapy. But since when has he been so damn sensitive about it? Probably for the same reason I got so sensitive about Cartman saying the K word to me the other week. I guess our relationship is changing somehow – like, maturing. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I do feel bad if I've upset him though. I'm sure I'll get the chance to convince him to forgive me later tonight.

Even after we hear Liane leave, we stay in Cartman's room. Again, instead of diving straight into anything sexual, Cartman suggests that we relax on the bed and watch a movie together. It's sort of an alien experience – I think this is the first time we've been in a room together alone without fighting or fucking. It's kinda...nice, like that talk that we had earlier before I fucked it up. It's very rare for me have moments like that with Cartman. Moments in which I feel as if we're real friends instead of just two people that hang out together by default.

I feel strangely comfortable being curled up on Cartman's bed with him like this, my head resting against his shoulder. Yep, this moment right now is pretty damn nice. He's even slipped his arm around me, pulling me into him as closely as possible. I smile to myself - how cute. It probably makes us look like we're an actual couple as opposed to just...

Okay, let's stop that thought process right there! What the hell am I thinking? Of course we're not an actual couple. How could we be? Granted, we've been getting along better since we started screwing around, but we still hate each other, don't we? He's still the Nazi and I'm still the Jew. Today has just been one of those rare good moments and that's what I should take it as.

I guess at least something good has come out of today. That reminds me...I reach into my jeans pocket for my phone and quickly send a text message to Ike to let him know I'm staying over at a friend's house tonight. Though I'm more than happy to be staying with Cartman, it really sucks that my mom is such a bitch that I don't even feel like returning to my own home for fear of facing her. Goddamn it, Mom. Why do you always have to be such a fucking Jew about everything?

I sigh heavily and feel Cartman's eyes on me. After a second, he takes his arm from around my shoulders and rolls over to play around with something on his bedside table. I don't look at what he's doing – I'm too busy trying to keep my eyes fixed forward so that I don't cry. I can't believe I'm letting the fact that my mom's a bitch make me feel like crying. I guess I'm just tired or something. Suddenly, something appears in front of my face. It's Cartman's clenched and colourful fist.

'Buenas tardes, Kyle!'

Oh Jesus, no! I stare at the big eyes and bright red lips drawn on Cartman's hand in disbelief. I turn my gaze to Cartman, who grins playfully before continuing to speak in 'Mz Lopez's' Mexican falsetto voice.

'Aww, you no happy to see me? Why you look so sad?'

I look back at the hand puppet thing and deliver a deadpan response. 'I'm screwing a lunatic and I'm concerned that it's infectious.'

Cartman sniggers. 'Aww, that's too bad. Would you like some kisses, Kyle?'

'No, thanks.'

'It will cheer you up!'

Is that what he's trying to do? Cheer me up? I crack the tiniest smile at this thought.

'No.'

'Oooh, Kyle! Your lips are so full and delicious! Let me kiss them.'

Cartman gently nudges the side of my mouth with his fist. I defiantly turn my face away.

'Stop it!'

'Would you like me to sing for you, Kyle?'

'No!'

There's a pause as Cartman looks thoughtful, then suddenly 'Mz Lopez' starts to sing.

'Oh Kyle, why you look so sad,

When you have such a lovely smile,

I cannot stand to see you mad,

So let me kiss you for a while, mwah!'

The last line is accentuated as Cartman's hand presses against my lips. I grab his stupid hand in mine, trying desperately not to smile.

'Dude, shut the hell up!'

Smirking all over his goofy face, Cartman pulls his hand from mine and continues his squeaky improvised generic pop song.

Oh Kyle, stop your snarling,

Relax, stop being so gay

And close your pretty eyes, my darling,

And I'll kiss your cares away.

As 'Mz Lopez' swoops in for another kiss, I firmly take hold of Cartman's hand again. I try to look angry as my eyes lock on his.

'Get that fucking thing out of my face!'

I planned on saying that sternly, but I only get halfway through the sentence before I burst out laughing. Cartman laughs too. 'Ya know, there once was a time when you wouldn't have found that funny.'

I shrug. 'There was also a time when I wouldn't have touched you with a twenty foot pole.'

'Well...let's forget about those times then.'

I gladly grip the back of Cartman's neck as he cups my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. The intensity of the kiss builds rapidly as our tongues clash and our fingers start clawing at each other's clothes. I quickly relieve Cartman of his t-shirt as he moves to straddles my hips. He roughly tugs my shirt from me, casting it aside before turning his attention to my jeans. Continuing to kiss me hard as he unzips me, Cartman slips his hand under the denim material to meet my underwear and stroke at my bulge. Suddenly alarmed, I pull away from the kiss. Cartman gives me a confused look and I blush a little.

'Er...could you wipe that thing off your hand first?'

Slowly removing his hand from my jeans, Cartman examines the face drawn on his finger and thumb, then looks back at me incredulously.

'You're kidding, right? Of all the kinky shit that we've done, you're saying that me touching you with a little Sharpie ink on my hand freaks you out?'

I frown. 'It's just...creepy!'

Not surprisingly, he starts laughing his ass off. I guess it does sound kind of silly. Ever helpful, Cartman brings 'Mz Lopez' back up to my face and starts chattering in that stupid voice again.

'Ooh, senor. I was hoping to give you a little of the oral stimulation, Si?'

Shaking my head, I lean towards Cartman's hand and drag my tongue over the pen marks. I meet Cartman's curious gaze and wink as I firmly rub away the drawn on eyes and lips with my thumb.

'Sorry 'Mz Lopez', but I'm not up for a threesome. Cartman is more than enough for me.'

Cartman gets that insanely happy shit-eating grin on his face, but for once it doesn't annoy me. Content that 'Mz Lopez' has vanished, I pull Cartman back in for another kiss. He responds enthusiastically, hands sliding back into my jeans and underwear and swiftly yanking them down together. I wriggle my legs to totally free myself from them, allowing Cartman to lean back and admire my body. It's a part of his usual pre-'fucking my brains out' ritual, but it still always makes me flush with embarrassment.

'You're so fucking sexy, Kyle,' he gushes. 'I don't know what I've done to deserve the privilege of being able to fuck such a sexy-assed little Jew like you.'

I can't help but wonder if he really means it or if he's just saying it to get me hot. Either way, he succeeds in doing just that. And for that very reason, I decide to be naughty and mix things up a little. I quickly push Cartman onto his back, which is made easier by the fact that he's not expecting it, and pounce on top of him. I ignore his look of surprise as I run my hands over his chest and kiss his neck hungrily.

'You wanna fuck me, huh?' I murmur in his ear.

'You're damn right I do.'

His hands grip firmly at my hips as he grinds his crotch against mine. The rough material of his jeans feels like a Brillo pad against my sensitive skin, and I let out a thick moan of pleasure. Locking eyes with Cartman, I smile and say, in my best falsetto Mexican voice:

'But, senor. I was hoping to give you a little oral stimulation first, Si?'

Cartman's hands freeze on my skin as he stares at me blankly.

'Now that was fucking creepy!'

We both laugh softly as Cartman gives me an encouraging push down towards his crotch. I unfasten his jeans and allow his cock to spring forth. This is one of my favourite things to do to Cartman, and not surprisingly he seems to like it too. I've noticed that he prefers it when I alternate between sucking and jacking him with my hand, so that's what I do. Cartman growls contentedly in response, his fingers tugging at my hair.

'Oh, you're so fucking good at that, Kyle,' he moans. 'My sweet little kosher cocksucker.'

I smile to myself – he has so many different pet-names for me, and there isn't a single one that I don't like the sound of. I lick the head of his cock like it's the most delicious thing I've ever tasted before sliding his length into the back of my throat. Of course, I don't neglect his precious balls, stroking them gently and rolling them around in the palm of my hand. I keep this up until I hear that distinctive grunt of pleasure and feel his cock twitch against my tongue.

As his cum floods my mouth, I'm reminded of the first time Cartman did this to me and decide to return the favour. I pretend to swallow down Cartman's load, but hold it in my mouth instead. Smiling sweetly, I crawl up the length of his body and lean in to kiss him. As my lips come into contact with his, I'm flipped onto my back. Cartman quickly mounts me, clamps one hand over my mouth and pinches my nose shut with the thumb and index finger of his other hand. God-fucking-damn it! It's now a case of either swallowing or choking to death, so I admit defeat and swallow.

Cartman releases me and I splutter slightly. Our eyes meet and we smirk at each other.

'Nice try, you sneaky Jew.'

'Well, you fucking fatass, I owed you one if you remember,' I pout a little, just because I know he thinks it's cute when I do. 'You could have just humoured me.'

'I know, but I figured you probably need the extra protein more than I do.' He pointedly runs his hand over my flat stomach then continues downwards to capture my dick. 'Ready to let me fuck you yet?'

'I'm always ready,' I say breathily.

Cartman's smile widens as he starts to gently pump my erect cock.

'How do you want it?'

'Hard and rough, of course.'

Happy to oblige, Cartman leans in and nips at my neck like a starving vampire. Great - it's always fun trying to explain hickeys to everyone. Stan thinks I have bedbugs, my mom's seems sure I'm allergic to the fabric softener she uses and Ike's convinced that some guy gives me them while I'm getting fucked in the ass. Smart kid, my little brother.

Cartman reaches into the little drawer of his bedside table and produces a condom and a bottle of lube. He hands me the bottle as he goes about rolling the condom over his cock. I dispense a small dab of lube onto my fingers and slide them up inside my ass. Cartman watches, smirking appreciatively. He likes watching me prepare myself for him. He takes the lube bottle from me and lathers a little onto his cock, stroking himself leisurely as I finish preparing myself.

When I'm done, Cartman slides in between my legs and applies one single firm kiss to my lips. He presses the head of his cock against my entrance, slowly sliding it about half an inch of the way in and then out again. He repeats this process a couple of times, slyly watching my face for a reaction. I sigh and buck my hips impatiently. 'Stop teasing me, asshole!'

Cartman chuckles as he suddenly thrusts forward violently, burying himself deep inside of me. I yelp my approval and rake his back vigorously with my fingernails. Cartman moans into my mouth as he kisses me again, gazing into my eyes as he starts to built up the pace and force of his thrusts.

'God Kyle, I love...being with you...like this,' he pants.

Wow. And I always thought that Cartman didn't love anything. Moving my hips to match the rhythm of Cartman's thrusts, I lay back to enjoy the sounds of his throaty moaning and my damp skin smacking against his.

'Me too,' I whisper breathlessly.

It isn't long before I feel that familiar wonderful feeling building in the pit of my stomach. My fingernails dig into Cartman's shoulders as I let out a blissful cry. Growling in response, Cartman's lips lock on mine as I clamp down on his cock and we both orgasm at the same time. It's so much better when that happens – it makes the experience just that little bit more special.

We continue to kiss passionately long after our climaxes are over. Both of our cocks have softened and splashes of my cum coat both of our stomachs. But that seems irrelevant. I wrap my arms around Cartman tightly, keeping his body pressed to mine as our tongues feverishly continue to do battle. My heart feels like it's about to explode – everything just feels so...perfect right now.

We reluctantly stop kissing and I feel disappointed as Cartman rolls off me. This feeling is short lived when he pulls me into his arms. I curl my body against his, leaning my head on his shoulder like when we were watching the movie earlier. I feel really comfortable like this. Something's definitely changed between us. I don't know what exactly, but I'm glad that it has. Being with Cartman like this makes me feel so...reassured? Like everything's gonna be alright. I can hardly believe I'm saying something like that about someone who's such a racist psychotic asshole. That reminds me...

'Cartman?'

'Mmm?'

'I'm sorry for making that joke about the vet earlier. And for the crack about giving you therapy. It was totally insensitive. I feel like an asshole.'

Cartman snorts. 'I'm King Asshole of Insensitivity, Jew. Your little jokes didn't bother me. In fact, they were actually pretty funny.'

He sniggers, tightening his arms around me. Well, good - as long as he's not bothered by what I said, everything's cool. I nuzzle into him and soon feel my eyes drifting shut. It's so much easier to sleep when I'm with Cartman. His bed is so comfortable and warm, and I guess it feels good to know that he's there beside me.

So very good.

So reassuring...

* * * * *

I don't think I've been asleep for long before I'm woken by Cartman moving off the bed. I assume he needs the bathroom, but he doesn't even get as far as the door. Instead, he starts shuffling around his room, opening drawers and moving things around like he's looking for something. I'd offer to help, but I'm too comfortable so I'm just gonna close my eyes and pretend I'm sleeping. Just as I feel myself falling asleep again, I hear Cartman talking quietly.

'Ah, Clyde Frog!'

Huh? Oh, that little stuffed frog thing. He still has that? I can't remember seeing it around. I seem to remember it meant a lot to him, so he must hide it. I think the last time I saw it was when I was nine, and I was stitching its head back on having torn it off in a Cartman-induced rage. Cartman gave me HIV, and I actually felt bad enough for ripping his stupid toy's head off in retaliation that I fixed it for him. How much of a sentimental fool am I? I guess it was the least I could do for breaking his X-Box though.

'Sure, we can talk about my day. But we'll have to be quiet so that we don't wake Kyle.'

No fucking way does he still talk to that thing! I can't believe I'm screwing someone who talks to stuffed animals! Though I guess it's pretty much the same as talking to yourself, and I do that all the time. It's probably much easier to discuss your feelings with something that can't respond or judge you. Especially for a person like Cartman.

'Well, Mr Kitty died today,' he whispers to his little friend. 'And I was the only one who seemed to care, really. Except for Kyle, that is. Having him here has made it so much easier. He always makes me feel better, even if he doesn't mean to.'

...I do? I suppose the fact that I'm here tonight would indicate that I feel something similar, but I'm still pretty surprised. I would never have guessed that Cartman got any pleasure from my company that wasn't sexual, since I'm apparently such an annoying little Jew and all.

'Look at him laying there...so peaceful. Nothing like the annoying little Jew that plagues my life when he's awake.'

I nearly laugh at this but I force myself not to, especially since he's apparently watching me 'sleep'. I can't let him know that I'm awake – he'd probably be really embarrassed if he knew I was listening to him talk to a toy. I'm not sure why I care that he'd be embarrassed, but still... Suddenly, Cartman lets out an indignant snort.

'What? Of course not, dumbass! I don't feel that way anymore...No, I don't! I can't...'

That was weird. I wish I knew what Clyde Frog asked him to cause that outburst. I listen intently as Cartman sighs and starts whispering softly to his toy again.

'He doesn't want it that way. He's happy with the way things are...Sure, I am too! I get to touch him, and kiss him. We do all sorts of awesome stuff together, stuff that he doesn't want to do with anyone else. That's more than I ever could have hoped for.'

More than he could have hoped for? What the hell is he talking about? I lay there in the silence, waiting for another clue as to what is going on in Cartman's head. I feel the mattress dip beside me as Cartman slowly gets back onto the bed. My heart pounds loudly in my chest as he starts stroking my hair gently.

'How can I ask for more...and risk losing what I already have?'

I feel him lean forward and his lips brush against mine. He then settles down under the covers beside me, his arm sliding around my waist and pulling me close to him.

'G'night, Clyde Frog. It was nice to hear from you,' he murmurs.

I wish I'd heard from Clyde Frog too.

At least then I would know what in the hell all that was about.

* * * * *

Aha! A confession! Of sorts...I was so concerned with keeping Cartman in character that I must have redrafted the conversation with Clyde Frog about twelve times before I was happy with it. I'm going to go more into how Kyle's feeling about what he just heard in the next chapter. This chapter is long enough as it is without little Mr Broflovski going off on one of his rants.

I've actually been working on the next chapter while I've been working on this one, so hopefully it shouldn't take very long to finish off. I'll try have it up for Christmas – it'll make a nice little pressie from me to you, dear readers. Thanks for reading! Please review if the mood takes you.

DD

XX

PS: Oh my God, I killed Mr Kitty! I'm a bastard!