Here's a little Bunny fluff for you all, things get a little angst but Cartman prevails in his dickishness

Cartman looked up from his videogame at the unlocking of the bedroom door. Kyle slipped inside and Cartman's face turned aghast at the Snacky Cake in his hand. "You asshole. You're seriously going to eat that right in front of me?"

"Sorry, I didn't think. You can't eat?"

"Where would it go? I have no digestive system," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm just an aesthetic shell of a person. And I don't want to fart out a whole cake."

Kyle laughed, restarting the game again as player two. "Where's the sound?"

"You don't think your parents would be suspicious at the gunfire coming from your room when you're not in it? It's fucking difficult to play this on mute too."

"Why didn't you just put on my headphones?"

Cartman threw the controller on the floor, holding his head. "Fuck!"

"You moron," Kyle giggled, but not unkindly. His avatar slithered along for a good target to snipe. "Thought any more about your good deeds?"

"Got a few things down. But uh, I'll definitely need some help." He nodded when Kyle said thanks for shooting a guy aiming at him. "I got to get into my room somehow. My 'will' wont look authentic if it's written on your stationary."

"Can you walk through walls?"

"Fuck yeah I can walk through walls."

"So just do that. And you'll want to do it soon. Before school's out."

Cartman frowned at him quizzically.

"Just trust me." Kyle turned back to the game. He had his own little mission to go on whilst Cartman was out.

Cartman didn't heed Kyle's warning and lazed around his room until four. Then he wasted a good ten minutes stood outside his house simply gazing at it, unable to go inside for a reason he couldn't fathom. It looked smaller somehow, duller. The door needed a lick of paint. He had a vague recollection that his mother had paid him to do it two years ago and he kept putting it off.

Who would do it now?

A gentle snivelling behind brought him out of his daydream and he swivelled to see Butters holding his coat around him against the cold. His face was red from more than just the autumn breeze. He gulped down a sob and Cartman instinctively stood aside as he plodded up to the door. Cartman bit his lip when his mother opened the door in a similar state. "Hello sweetie," she simpered, not at all surprised by his visit and Cartman slid past him through the door. He could walk through it, but he didn't like doing anything that reminded him he was dead. It was bad enough having his mother and best minion look right through him, and slam the door on one of his wings. "Jesus fuck Christ, mom!" he yelled at her and the lack of reaction cut him deep.

"Would you like something yummy to eat? Or drink? I have fresh le-mon-ade," she sang.

"No-no thank you, ma-ma'am," Butters muttered, knocking his fists together in his usual nervous way.

"Just an eensie-weensie snackie-poos?"

Cartman rolled his eyes. Damn woman had to feed something now he was gone. Butters shook his head demurely. "If it's all the same ma'am, I'd like to just…"

"Of course, sweetie. Go on up."

Butters made his way up the stairs but Cartman chose to remain with his mother for the moment. A cold wave of guilt had crashed into him when he cursed at her before. She looked so sad, and suddenly old and petite.

Fragile, that's the word he wanted.

He watched her setting out food, mouth salivating desperately. There was another knock at the door but Cartman stayed with the food, whining pitifully that he couldn't eat it. Well he could but he wasn't entirely sure how that would pan out. He bolted upright at the familiar voice he heard from the front door and Kenny sauntered into the kitchen grabbing the first snack he could reach. "Perfect as always, Mrs. Cartman," he beamed as he chewed a freshly baked cookie. "Can't help but think you were expecting me. These are still warm."

She giggled coquettishly. "He's upstairs already."

Kenny nodded, carding a cookie between each pair of fingers that could cope with holding one, placing two in his mouth for good measure. "Back down soon," he mumbled, spraying crumbs onto Cartman. He followed Kenny apprehensively to his room. Kenny put his pile of cookie treasure onto the dresser in Cartman's room, quickly eating the two in his mouth as he watched Butters curled up on Cartman's bed, sniffing quietly. The moment he swallowed the last bite he gathered Butters up in his arms, nuzzling the back of his neck.

Cartman was incensed. "Kenny, I swear to Satan if you've been fucking Butters in my be- I haven't even fucked Butters in my bed. I mean anyone in my bed. Any girl," he clarified. "Not that I haven't fucked at all. I've had hundreds of girls. Just not here." He realised he was talking to no-one but himself.

He slowly lowered himself onto his office chair across from them, envious of their cuddling, though reluctant to admit it even internally that it was because all the sexual congress in his bed had been entirely solo. Not that he'd been involved in a duet anywhere else. "Fuck, I died a virgin, how lame can you get," he bemoaned.

Kenny said something Cartman missed and Butters shook his head in reply. "C'mon Bee," Kenny soothed his fingers through Butters' hair. "You can't miss school again. Your parents will ground you when they find out."

Butters buried his face into the pillow.

"Are you saving up your energy for the… y'know?"

"I can't go. It hurts too much."

Cartman squirmed uneasily. He didn't want to hear all this. Yet he wasn't moving.

"I know," Kenny said, kissing the back of his neck. "But I'll be there. And you'll regret it if you don't. I can't let you go through that."

Butters looked back at him, "You'll be there? Every second?"

"I'll follow you to the bathroom and everything."

"Ew, you don't need to do that." But he smiled at the thought. "I guess I should go. I mean I'm not the only one who's hurting, for sure, and everyone else is going."

Kenny laughed humourlessly, "Yeah Kyle hasn't been to school either, and Stan's been throwing up constantly."

Cartman raised an eyebrow. Even the hippy missed him? That was the headline of the week.

Butters turned around and nestled his head under Kenny's chin. "Kenny, you're like really brave, huh? You must be hurting the most – you were his best friend, after all.

Kenny blushed, "Damn right. But I'm not brave. I just know Cartman would kick my ass if I made a fuss about him." He held Butters tighter. "Know what else?"

"What?"

"If he was here right now, he'd be bitching about how gay we are."

Cartman smirked, "Hella yes I am. Get your Pride cooties off my sheets. I can't believe my death has brought about some kind of gay apocalypse on South Park." He groaned as they began to smooch. But his distress was short-lived as they respectfully left his bed before things got too amorous. The moment they were gone, he began to look for the items he needed.

"Oooh, yeah," Kyle scratched his arm guiltily. "I should have warned you about that. Well actually I kind of did. I told you to go before school was out."

"You knew?!" Cartman snapped, shuffling his paperwork around. He was still fine-tuning some of his prose when Kyle got in from his secret errand. "How long has that shit been going on?"

"Pretty much from the day you collapsed." Kyle paused. He'd reflected on that day so often but only now did the true anguish of it surface. He hadn't appreciated how difficult it would be to relay. "The teachers called for an ambulance and we were told to stay away. We didn't know anything about what happened until the next day so we were all just wandering around like zombies. Butters wouldn't stop crying so Kenny took him home. Any excuse to bail on school, I guess." Kyle covered up a laugh with his fist and Cartman joined in. Kyle sighed, "I don't know when exactly it went from comfort to… whatever. But I dunno, I think it's cute. Must be weird for you, though. Your best friend and your, uh, however you class Butters."

"Butters?" Cartman considered him. "Butters is a class of his own."

Kyle leant on his hand with a coy smile. "I can't work out if you're praising him or being derogatory with that."

Cartman wasn't giving away the answer.

Next Chapter:

"He's got better things to do these days," Stan smirked. "Like compare notes with Hitler." Stan couldn't be more wrong about that – Cartman's new hobby was that of planning good deeds with a Jew, Kyle thought idly.