Disclaimer: South Park belongs to the great and benevolent Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Oh, and remember that song in the chapter title? Hint, hint, wink, wink.

Chapter Two: Liquid Dreams

Stanley Marsh awoke with a sour taste in his mouth. Not only wouldn't the taste leave him, but a nightmare of Kyle making out with Cartman practically suffocated him. Throwing aside the sheets, he innately sprang to the phone beside his bed and dialed the numbers. Soon, Kyle's soothing voice would placate him and scoff at this notion. They'd mock Cartman openly, rip on him repeatedly, and then, after laughing everything off, hang up smiling.

Unquestioningly, this was the way of the universe. Yet, when he heard the words flowing out of his best friend's mouth, he nearly dropped the receiver in shock. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and sat utterly dumbstruck. His brain functioned sluggishly in the morning and now, it barely slithered onward.

"Cartman? Listen, you fat fuck; I told you I'd agree! You don't have to wake me up and remind me!" Kyle snapped, cracking his knuckles threateningly. In the background, Stan heard Ike banging angrily on his door. Veiled threats transmitted, muffled but still valid.

"Kyle?" Stan inquired sheepishly, preventing another string of curses. On the other side, Kyle blinked, wishing he hadn't jumped the gun. What was his problem, anyway? Cartman wasn't awake at seven a.m., much less delivering ultimatums. Paranoia had sunk its grappling hooks into him and clutched for dear life.

"Oh," was all Kyle said and outside, Ike banged harder. Once again, Kyle ignored him and the vague unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Insides, words screamed, just on the tip of his tongue. Leaving Stan out of the loop had never been an issue before and now, all of a sudden, he couldn't tell him anything. The lack of communication destabilized him and their relationship.

" 'Oh'? Is that all you have to say? Why the hell would you think I was Cartman, anyway? Why do you keep ignoring me in school and-" Stan began, but never finished. The wheels churned speedily in his head and he discovered the conclusions displeased him, like Kyle's next act.

"Uh…I think there's a call on the other line. I'll see you later!" Kyle replied brusquely and promptly following was the dial tone. Not only had he brushed him off, but he'd hung up on him as well. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like it one bit.

…

Eric Cartman tossed and turned in his sleep. Disturbingly vivid and somewhat erotic (like softcore porn) dreams of him and Wendy endlessly chased scenes of him and Kyle. By the time seven fifteen hit, he jolted up and panted, eyes wild. He hadn't the faintest clue what his subconscious pestered him about, but he yearned to snap at it to shut the fuck up. He hated psychoanalyzing himself and complex dreams tended to eat away at him. They held an appeal unmatched by any school subject.

Throwing the sheets aside, he winced and reminded himself to order his mother to wash them. When he arrived at school, he'd order Kyle to stay away from his dreams and that'd be that. Jews probably astral projected themselves into people's dreams all the time. You just had to catch them at it.

However implausible the theory was, there were some flaws he couldn't argue away. Even if Kyle could project himself into his dreams, he'd never have started the risqué things he did nor would he have plunged his tongue down his throat. Kyle enjoyed the occasional mind game to combat his, but he had morals and he'd never sink as low as Cartman's imagination. No, this wasn't entirely Kyle's fault, damn it. There were other forces at work here.

Donning his usual, he shrugged inconsequentially and waltzed downstairs. Some things couldn't be thought of on an empty stomach and this was one of them. He'd think better with sugary pancakes satiating him.

…

Kenny McCormick stared up at his white ceiling and its sight woke him far more effectively than any alarm. Starkness reminded him of his situation and stifling a yawn, he stretched luxuriously before rising to his feet. Like Cartman, Kenny's dreams were not exactly atypical, but he'd enjoyed himself greatly. Far be it for him to judge a person solely on their attractions; he reasoned if fun was to be had, it didn't matter who gave it.

Cramming a blue parka (he alternated colors occasionally and this one reminded him of another blond classmate) on, he smirked. Though the thought of pestering him tempted, he ultimately decided against it. In the long run, however, he'd find himself too distracted to remember his dreams at all.

…

Leopold "Butters" Stotch awoke like every other day; his alarm competed with his parents for the loudest scream. Blearily wiping sleep from his eyes, he strained to recall a dream just out of reach. It'd be so pleasant too, if only he remembered. But like water in cupped hands, it escaped him quicker than he could hold onto it.

"Butters!" His father screeched and the blonde haired teen shrugged helplessly, unable to recapture anything but the fleeting happiness he'd experienced. A kiss on the cheek, maybe, but the shadow figure blurred and faded into oblivion. Lest he further anger his parents, he decided to simply give up. If it was important, he'd have remembered it.

Throwing a cerulean t-shirt over his lanky frame, he hustled down the stairs before his father opened his mouth again. On the way down, he nearly stumbled and his father's expression never faltered. Omnipresent disapproval and what he'd long thought was upset over a wasted child. Even with those dark thoughts lingering, he forced a smile. Darkness never solved anything.

"Did you do your homework?" he demanded, cocking an eyebrow at his wife. Butters fidgeted uncomfortably, knocking his knuckles together. He'd been doing it so long; the mild pain didn't bother him. Instead of answering him, his eyes slid over the orange juice and fresh waffles by his place. A kiss…a figure…

"Butters!" His mother snapped, jumping to conclusions already. She slammed the pitcher on the table so hard the juice lapped its sides. If anyone else noticed, they gave no indication. Butters continued to fidget, now more nervous than ever. Who was that shadowed figure? Boy or girl? Was it someone he knew? Or just an echo of his imagination? When he was five, he used to have an imaginary friend…

"Y-yes, ma'am," he stuttered, reaching gratefully for a waffle. At least with his mouth crammed, it'd be difficult to be punished for silence. Then again, his parents often made no sense. He tried to live peaceably with them and their insane rules, but sometimes he found it cumbersome. Like right now, considering his sore backside…and those soulful eyes…what color were they?

"Did you do your homework?" his father snapped, tone severe. Unconsciously, he cowered in his hard backed chair. A piece of waffle lodged in his throat and he blinked, swallowing to no avail. He had the feeling his father would let him choke on the waffle rather than stop his questioning. If Butters were less naïve and more like Stan, Kyle, Kenny, or Cartman, he might hate his parents. But he knew no better.

Gulping orange juice guiltily, he willed his voice not to waver. He loathed lying; especially its consequences, but he hadn't done his homework. He'd spent three hours staring hopefully at Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman in turn, praying they'd call him over. They never did and he spent the rest of the night donning his Professor Chaos outfit (he'd altered it since he was eight to fit his growing frame) and imagining what he'd do to them. His ideas always sounded more devious in his head than aloud.

Stuffing three waffles in his mouth at once and darting from the table, he shoved his chair back in. His bag awaited him; its straps beckoned invitingly. He'd never flat out run to the bus previously, but today the idea compelled him. He didn't want to hear another lecture about why he had no friends or why he should stop clinging to the idea of the quartet. Starting out a day like that seemed terribly ominous. (That figure…stroking his face and hair…promising him protection and love…)

Their words reverberated around the house, but Butters took no notice. Snatching his satchel, he hastily masticated the last of his belated breakfast and blasted out the door. His parents merely observed coolly, mentally noting to bring this up later. For now, it was far too early in the morning to trail their disobedient son.

…

Kyle Broflovski bade his baby brother adieu and shoved his mittened hands into his jacket. It was a cold, clear day in Stan's "quiet little mountain town" and only the sound of freshly crunched snow answered his icy, visible breath. The bus would not arrive for a good fifteen minutes and in the meanwhile, he treasured his solitude. Its presence lasted briefly, unfortunately; Stan's footfalls commenced behind him and the raven haired boy stood, unable to greet his longtime friend. Instead, he glared at the back of his hat as though it had insinuated relations beyond friendship with Cartman.

The Jewish boy shrugged noncommittally, cursing Cartman inwardly for inadvertently causing this drift. Yet while he cursed him, he knew better than to even think of bringing this up around him. He'd laugh his head off. Fury against him rose and he, accidentally grinding them, clenched his teeth.

"Where's your lover," Stan accused, folding his arms across his chest and facing him. "Isn't it 'til death do us part or haven't you written the vows yet?"

Kyle said nothing. Words bounced back from his tongue to his brain and back again. He yearned to snap every detail of Cartman's plan at him, but he shrugged instead. Remorsefully, nothing proves guilt like silence. Stan immediately jumped the gun.

"I can't believe you'd leave me out of something this important!" he snapped, pacing furiously. Kyle pitied him and, once again, he longed to explain everything. Stan didn't deserve to be put through this torture, especially not by him. Yet revealing Cartman would reveal more than he could afford to lose.

"What's the matter? Having a lover's spat?" Cartman crooned, arriving on the scene with a smirk. He flipped off the redheaded boy; Kyle and Stan recognized a tirade in the making. And after years of suffering his company, they were seldom wrong.

"We're not lovers!" Kyle and Stan proclaimed in unison, but there were distinctly different tones. Both blinked, staring at the other. The vehemence in Kyle's voice was directed at Cartman, not Stan, but he misunderstood it. Conversely, Kyle wondered at Stan's apparent dejection and possible jealousy.

"Whatever," he replied; clearly indicating he couldn't care less. "Just keep your Jew body out of my dreams."

Unseen, virtually unheard, Kenny crept up on the three. A broad smirk covered his face, but behind the safety of his hoodie, it remained invisible. He rubbed his hands together- this sounded good. Too good to alert them to his presence yet.

"What the hell are you talking about, fatass? The only way I'd be in your dreams was if I was kicking your ass!" Kyle retorted, temper getting the better of him. Stan smirked, placated. If Kyle and Cartman were trading insults, then everything was right with the world. False alarm.

Ignoring the barb, he replied smoothly, "That wasn't exactly what you were doing with my ass."

The color drained swiftly in Kyle's face and his knuckles turned completely white. Though he struggled to maintain composure, his anxiety displayed itself prominently. When Stan stared worriedly at him, his green eyes stared right past him. The raven haired boy trembled, disturbed.

"Liar," he growled. "Fucking liar!"

Stan blinked, alarmed. "Dude, it was just a dream. Chill out."

"If you ever touch me like that, Cartman, I swear to God I'll-"

"You'll what? You were the one doing all the touching, Jew boy," Cartman countered, shoving the others aside to climb aboard the bus first. Wendy sat in the far back and he winked exaggeratedly at her. She huffed and glanced out the window.

"Never knew you liked it in the ass, Cartman," Kenny snickered. "Maybe you and Mr. Slave should get together."

Scarlet, the tables turned unpleasantly, he mumbled something unintelligible and slammed himself in a three seater. Remarkably, he only took up two of those three seats. The others filed in behind him- none of them spoke the whole ride.

…

Replies to reviews!

Brat Child2- Lol, actually that line is in reference to a conversation a friend and I had regarding our parents having sex and us walking in on it. Yeah…she's not reading this, but that was the comment made.

I really didn't want to write this, as you know. I was terrified you'd hate it and then I'd have wasted a good hour coming up with that much. But no matter how much I hesitated, you kept shoving and shoving. Well, heh, I hope you like the end result. And yes, you did scare me.

Heh, thanks.

Kehl- Tragically, perhaps due to my Leo nature, I do not take slight insults well. I spent about twenty minutes deliberating over your "somewhat predictable" comment. This is my first South Park fanfic, give me a break. I didn't even want to write it, but BratChild2 demanded it. I'm sorry if you find it pedantic, but I was terrified of writing an idea someone has already done.

Moving on…thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you enjoyed it, even if I spent twenty minutes antagonizing over those two words.

Pointy-Eared Archer- Trite reviews are all right, really. I was absolutely certain I'd get none other than BratChild2's, so your review relieved me. I'm still waiting for the inevitable flames, but as I said to a close friend of mine, I'm sure those will come when I least expect or desire them.

Well, I do appreciate your encouragement. Every little bit helps, you know.

Lilchicky004- Why, thank you. You're not the only one to surmise on the plot. I believe the fact writing is my outlet (as well as reading) will help this story further.

Sadly, Cartman may have had a point there. A lot of girls go for emo guys and I learned the hard way that pussy guys aren't really my bag of tricks. They're far too wimpy.

Well, thanks for putting me on your faves already. I really do appreciate it.

Anime Qtie- Well, this wasn't that quickly, but I digress. Working on TOS alternatively will lead to delays on other things, considering the length of those chapters.

And thanks.

total misanthrope- A late review is better than none at all. Heh, thanks. And I've got the time now, before I go to school. I think I'm going to be working on Yom Kippor and Rosh Hashanah, sadly. Those are school holidays and unless I'm bogged down by schoolwork, I'll have to use them. (Even though they are High Holy days).

SugarHigh Zombie- Cockroaches ruling the world? That was a Fairly Oddparents episode. And at least you didn't have time to blow up. I updated the same day you reviewed. (winks)

Well, that's it for now. Please continue to read and review! I thank you guys in advance.

Until me and my Jew boy meet again…