A/N: Fluff, fluff. I just can't stop the fluff. I really do know how this entire story ends (many chapters in the future), though, and I'm in love with the end, but … I need the fluff backstory. This chapter is half of what used to be one chapter, but it was super-long so I cut it in half. The other half will be up soon. After that one, stuff should move a bit faster, although I'm having fun just writing about the gang's silly college antics.

I'm still having the love/hate relationship with this story, and I'm working on a few ideas for new stories without OCs…but I need to finish this one. It's become an obsession.

Do I need to say it? I don't own South Park or any of the songs mentioned. I don't own the silly fish sticks joke, I don't own any of the cool real places mentioned…just this idea and my weird little OC, who is based on a character from a story I wrote years ago for a class. We'll learn more about her soon, though. Enough. On with the antics…

"Well I wait so long for my love vibration

And I'm dancin' with myself, oh, oh, oh

Dancin' with myself…"

Gluh. It is way too early for anyone to be calling. I blindly reach for my phone and silence Billy Idol. Opening one eye, I squint at the caller ID and sigh.

"What." It's more an irritated grunt than a question.

"Whoa-ho, what a little ray of sunshine you are. Remind me to never hire you as a receptionist."

"Yeah, well, dream on…never gonna happen. Not if it were the last job on Earth. I'd rather live in a cardboard box than work as your receptionist, Cartman. What do you want?"

"Cardboard box, eh? Well at least you have a realistic vision for your life with Kenny." Cartman's whiny snort of a laugh punctuates the dig. I decide not to glorify it with a response, so he continues. "I just wanted to make sure we were still on for today. I'll be there waiting at 12:30."

"Get here at 12:00. I'm not going to my 11:00 class today. We need to talk before we meet up with Wendy and Kenny." I hit "end" without waiting for a response; it's probably a bad thing to give Cartman anything resembling a choice. I type out "be at my room at 12:30," choose Wendy and Kenny from my contact list, and send the text. I still refuse to spend a day alone with pain-in-the-ass Cartman.

-XXX-

"Fuck!" I throw my phone at my bed in frustration and watch it bounce among the pillows. I turn my head as the door opens and Cartman sticks his head in without knocking.

"What's wrong?" he asks as he pushes his bulk through the opening. He twists his face into a Grinch-like smile. "Not enough hot action from your two favorite fags yet today?"

I roll my eyes as I turn to fully face him and put my hands on my hips. "Noooo, it's just that I texted Kenny this morning and haven't heard back, and now every time I try to call I get that stupid 'we're sorry, the subscriber you are trying to reach is not available" message." I realize how obsessive I sound about a half-second too late when Cartman barely disguises a mocking laugh with a fake cough. "And I only did that one time, so shut the fuck up, porker."

"Let me ask you something, Ginger. How well exactly do you know McCormick?"

Considering that it takes me a few seconds to realize that he's talking about Kenny, I answer truthfully. "Not very," I say distractedly as I search for my black and pink Etnies. "Oh, and gingers have freckles. I don't. Insult fail."

He waves off my correction. "Kenny's too damn poor to top off his pre-paid phone. I'm sure he ran out of minutes again. Happens all the time." Is he trying to console me? "I know where he lives. If you're…brave enough…we can just go find him…but…but…" the sentence dies into a grating laugh.

I consider this for a moment, then wrinkle my nose and throw my hands up as if to say, "oh, screw it." "Let's just get a move on. I'll go see if Stan and Kyle want to come along instead." I mean, if Kenny wanted to go, he could have just shown up here. Instead of dwelling on it, I pull an American Express card out or my wallet and cross the room to where Cartman is now leering at the photos Lexus has taped above her desk. "Listen," I say, handing him the card, "I don't want anyone to know I'm paying for your little trip to the Apple store, much less the reason why. Get whatever you want, but remember: if you so much as breathe a hint of this to anyone, ever, I'll tell Wendy about your first suggestion." I pause, watching the huge boy as he stares in disbelief at the card in his hand. "And then I'll throw your fat ass out in front of a bus."

"What-ever." He pockets the card and eyes me. "Are you sure you don't want to go find McCormick?" He sounds almost, almost friendly.

"Yeah," I shrug. "I'll catch up with him later. In the meantime, I'll just drown my disappointment in shoes."

"Did I hear someone say 'shoes'?" Wendy steps through the door, dressed in skinny jeans and a purple coat. I smile.

"Yes! I have no appropriate clothes for this weather in this place, I swear. I need tights and boots and…stuff. And I'll need your help. We were just going. I'm going next door for a second."

"Where's Kenny?"

"Not answering his phone. I'm going to see if Stan and Kyle wanna go instead. You guys lock up and meet me next door." I toss Wendy my keys and step out, hearing an almost-shy "Hi, Eric" as I tap on the boys' door. Kyle answers, looking flustered.

"Cartman and Wendy and I are going to Denver to spend copious amounts of money, wanna come?"

Stan jumps up from his bed, spilling textbooks and notes. "Hell, yeah, dude. I can't take another minute of Chemistry."

Kyle turns to face him. "Dude, you've only been studying for like ten minutes."

"Yeah, that's like nine minutes too long."

Kyle pinches the bridge of his nose and turns back to me. "I really have to work on my English midterm. I wish I could go, but…why don't you guys come get me when you get back and we'll all do something."

"Okay. But you have to decide what we do later. Anything you want." I'm a little disappointed that Kyle isn't joining us, but at least with Stan there I won't feel like a third wheel to Cartman and Wendy. Stan finishes buttoning his peacoat and walks over to Kyle, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"Have fun studying, Kylie." Kyle furrows his brow angrily as a soft pink blush creeps across his cheeks and threatens to deepen. Stan leans in to kiss him on the nose, and suddenly, his face nearly matches his hair. I busy myself with a very interesting, very non-existent spot on the floor. "We'll get you something good, I promise!" I look up as Stan ruffles Kyle's curls and steps out to the hallway smiling as the redhead closes the door. When I raise my eyebrows, Stan just smiles wider and shrugs.

Wendy and Cartman are already at the end of the hallway, waiting impatiently. As we approach them, I get an idea.

"You guys, wait." I pull out my phone and dial Butters. He'll be thrilled to go to the city.

-XXX-

Road trips. Heaven and hell wrapped up in one car-shaped package, sprinkled with junk food and arguments over who gets control of the stereo.

Stan is sitting to my right, fiddling with my phone, unable to let a full song play until the end. He put my entire playlist on shuffle when we got in the car, and now keeps hitting the "next" button about three-quarters of the way through each song. Wendy is seated behind him, working on a Tootsie pop and trying to ignore Cartman's snoring. Said snorer is fast asleep, one foot firmly in each footwell on either side, efficiently using up most of Wendy and Butters' legroom. His head is tilted toward Wendy's shoulder, and I'm pretty sure she is secretly thrilled. Butters is playing with my hair, trying to put it in Princess Leia buns but failing due to the breeze from the sunroof. I'm still trying to shake the feeling of rejection that is pressing at me and trying to ruin my day. Stop it, Ren, the guy kissed you once. This wasn't a date or anything. When I turn into the lot at Cherry Creek mall and shout "We're here!" the words sound hollow.

"Ah-I've got somethin' to do, guys," Butters says as we walk to the entrance. "Can I just, uh, just meet up with you guys in a while?"

"Sure, Butters, call me if you need to, 'kay?" I turn to Wendy and read the question in her eyes. "Wendy, I need help choosing one little thing, can you come with me to one store?" I want to give Cartman a chance to raid the Apple store alone before he spends the rest of the day with her. She nods. I turn to Stan. "Come with us. It's time I learn to dress for winter in South Park."

-XXX-

"Hey, you look good in a hat," Stan laughs as I try on what must be my fiftieth. I strike a silly pose and he whips his phone out of his pocket and takes a picture.

"What's that for? I hate cameras," I grumble, putting the hat back on the shelf. He makes a pouty face at me and I relent. "Fine, keep it. But no more!"

My biggest fear when Wendy left us to find Cartman was that the day would be awkward, considering that Stan and I have never spent any time alone together. Kyle has always been around, so I know little about my dark-haired friend. Turns out I was worrying needlessly; Stan is, as I have mentioned, hilariously funny, and quite a good shopper, too.

"Um, Ren, you have bought four pair of boots, six skirts, I don't know how many tights, three hats, an entire bag of sweaters…and I'm hungry."

"Food court?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

The food court is nearly empty; it's too early for the after-high-school crowd. I consider my choices as Stan heads straight for the pizza. I decide on a milkshake and head over to the frozen yogurt stand.

"Would you like a spoon or a straw or both?" I barely register the cashier's question as I remember drinking milkshakes with Malcolm after receiving my brown belt in Karate.

"You'll never get anywhere with that straw, Renny. Here, have my spoon."

"I don't want your spoon, Mac. I'll be fine." I draw on the straw with limited success. Why did I get an Oreo shake?

"You'll miss out on all those Oreos…" Malcolm's eyebrows are raised in a questioning gesture, an invitation. Take the damn spoon, his eyes are saying. I reach out and grab it from where he is tauntingly twirling it in the air.

"Will you go get me, um, some napkins?"

"Sure thing, kid."

At least now I can get a few bites in without him watching me.

"Miss? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. Um, straw, thanks." I take my shake and wander to the tables.

Stan is working on a giant slice of bacon pizza, and he offers me a messy smile as I take a seat across from him. He starts to take another impossibly large bite, then changes his mind and sets the slice down.

"You know, Kyle would be nagging at me right now for eating so much junk food in one sitting." He looks down at the pizza and nachos in front of him. I get the sense that he is not complaining but rather leading in to a much less mundane topic. He leans back in his chair and slides his hat from his head, sighing. "He, um…he doesn't want to tell his parents about us yet. Sometimes I think he doesn't want to tell himself about us, if you know what I mean."

"How long have you guys…?"

"We've been Super Best Friends since we were…since forever. But…it all changed last year. We were at an after party for the homecoming dance, drinking Jaeger shots to celebrate our last homecoming at South Park High. I decided then was a good time to tell him that I had loved him since I moved back to South Park after my parents' divorce. He assumed I meant in a 'bromance' sort of way until I pushed him against the wall and kissed him senseless." Stan lights up with the biggest smile I've ever seen on his face. I smile back, warmed by the cute story, but before I can respond, he puts props his elbows on the table, leans in, and changes the subject. "You know, Kenny, like, disappears sometimes. Like, for hours, or a day…sometimes a few days. It's always been like that." I look down into my milkshake, not sure whether I'm blushing or stifling a smile or about to cry. "Me and Kyle are his best friends, and you can believe me when I say that if the cloud over your head today has anything to do with him not answering your call, you're being silly." The smile wins as I look up; I think this is the most I've ever heard Stan talk. I'm about to suggest that we find the arcade and play some good old Mortal Kombat, but Cartman and Wendy walk up to the table. His left arm is around her shoulders while his right hand balances a huge tray of food. He sets the tray down and pulls out a chair for Wendy. Stan and I share a look of surprise.

"Shopping makes me hungry," the large boy says to no one in particular. He picks up what looks like a fish stick and dips it in a cup of something that looks suspiciously like mayonnaise.

"Sick, dude!" Stan exclaims. Cartman shoots him a sidelong glance but doesn't respond; he's too busy chewing. When he swallows, he looks at me, holding a fried stick in his hand.

"'Ey, Ginger. Do you like fish sticks?" I give him a confused frown as Stan and Wendy roll their eyes.

"Um, no, I'm a vegetarian, fish is meat."

"God damn hippies, always gotta ruin the jo-"

Cartman is cut off by Butters, who has come up behind him. The blonde reaches an arm under the larger boy's and grabs a fish stick.

"Yoink! Haha, I love fish sticks!"

Cartman takes the opportunity. "Well then, Butters, you're a gay fi-" He aborts the punch line as he turns and gets a good look at Butters. We all turn our eyes to the little blonde who is now no longer concealed by Cartman's bulk. His hair is cut and styled in what I can only describe as a faux-hawk, and his baggy pleated trousers and button-up have been replaced by skinny jeans, a studded belt, a slim-fitting t-shirt, and a frayed-edge dark grey canvas blazer. Butters looks…hot.

Wendy takes in a breath. "Wow, Butters, that's quite a makeover." She is the only one who speaks. Even Cartman is speechless…for a moment.

"Y'know, Butters, I had no idea you could get any faggier, but you just went and proved me wrong." The fat boy snickers and turns back to his food; Stan makes a fist and socks him on the shoulder. I turn to Wendy, roll my eyes, and sigh as Butters takes a seat next to me. I tilt the rest of my milkshake toward him in an offering and he takes it. I pull my phone from my bag and look at the time.

"You guys, it's like seven. Let's get back and find everyone else; I'm tired of the mall!"

-XXX-

"Crap, you guys, I forgot. I have one more stop I want to make." I turn around to address Wendy, who is stuck in the backseat between Stan and Cartman, who are both fast asleep. "Can you crawl over him?" I motion to the larger boy with a grin.

"I'll stay here and start texting everyone so that we have plans when we get home," she says. "You and Butters go on."

I pull up to the Patagonia store and engage the handbrake. "I'll try to be quick, Wendy. Butters, let's go."

"Wh-what are you gettin' here, Ren?" Butters is shivering, the store is cold.

"I need a real coat. And then…something else. Follow me."

I find the perfect down vest in a shade of green that brings out my eyes, and a black three-quarter length parka that hangs slightly longer than my skirt. Butters tags along, holding my purchases. We walk purposefully over to the men's side, and I peruse the parkas that line the racks. I pull out a slate blue one and hold it up.

"What do you think, Butters?" He looks confused for a moment, but then realization lights his eyes and he shakes his head.

"Aw, it's…perfect, but Ren, Kenny just hates charity, I don't think-"

"Oh, hush. This is so not charity. I can deal with the ratty red hoodie, but the orange parka has to go. Orange is my least-favorite color, ever." I grab the pile of coats from his arms. "My motives are purely selfish." Lies. I just don't see how the boy could possibly stay warm all winter in the…orange thing. It kind of breaks my heart. "Come on, everyone is waiting."

Back in the car, all three of our companions are asleep. As we are getting on the highway, Butters pulls my new vest from the bag at his feet and balls it up, creating a makeshift pillow. As I listen to the tires rhythmically roll on the pavement, I realize that I finally feel somewhat normal.

-XXX-

I'm daydreaming, staring into a cup of watery coffee when two hands wrap around my eyes from behind, startling me back to reality.

"Agh! Guess who?"

"Ohhhhh, I dunno….Kyle? No, wait. Um…Clyde?" I'm having too much fun teasing the little blonde. " No, no, no….I know! TWEEK!" I turn around and jump up from my chair, pulling the trembling boy into a hug. I haven't spent much time with Tweek in the past few days, and I've missed him. He takes the seat to my right as Craig scrutinizes the chair across from him. Finally deciding it is cootie-free, he sits, offering Clyde next to him a stoic middle finger.

Even though we ate our fill of junk food at the mall, we decided to get everyone together at Village Inn. The turnout is huge, but I can't help but notice that Kenny is still absent. I surreptitiously pull my phone from my bag and dial it under the table, only pressing it to my ear when I see that the line has connected, but it's the same old message. I hang up and throw the phone back in my bag as if it is the source of all my angst. Bebe pipes up from the end of the table.

"You guys, let's play Telephone!" Wendy and Rebecca squeal, while Token and Clyde share a confused glance. I lean back in my seat and address Bebe.

"Um, you mean like the game that we used to play in grade school English classes to prove a point about word-of-mouth stories?"

"Yeah, but it's like…Telephone Truth or Dare. Anything goes. So if you want to share your secret, or better yet, tell a secret you know about someone-" Cartman cuts her off.

"Okay, guys…I'll start." He leans over to Tweek, and in a stage whisper that everyone could hear (were they paying attention) says, "Kyle is a stinking Jew."

"Agh! Um, that isn't very –ngh- nice to say!"

"Yeah, Eric, and you're supposed to whisper it, that's the whole point!" This from Wendy.

"Ah did whisper it, I just whispered it louder for a more dramatic effect!"

Tweek shrugs (or twitches, I can't tell) and leans over, cupping my ear with his hands. "Um, you, uh, heard the fatty, r-right?" I nod, excusing him from repeating the racist insult, and decide to play by my own rules.

"Kyle is soooo stinking cute," I whisper to Butters. I watch as Butters passes it on to Stan, who smiles and nods. Stan looks to his left and makes a "come here" gesture at Kyle, who cranes his neck to receive the "secret." His cheeks flush pink as Stan whispers; he rolls his eyes and passes it on to Bebe. Finally, after Token, Rebecca, Craig, and Clyde pass the message, it reaches full circle at Wendy.

"Kyle's ass is so cute!" Wendy shouts, revealing the missive she received.

"'Ey! That is NOT what ah SAID!" Cartman goes red in the face but Wendy's subtle petting of his bicep calms him quickly. I vaguely wonder what happened today, since the two of them are acting quite…affectionately toward each other. I make a mental note to ask Wendy about it later.

The game goes on, and we learn that "Ren's natural hair color is black" (not really a secret) and that "Bebe wears a triple-E bra" (obviously not true, but she giggles and stands on the chair and takes a bow anyway) and that "Cartman slept with Clyde up until last year" (to which he answers "Clyde FROG! Clyde FROG! He was a stuffed frog! God damn it!" while the real Clyde tries not to choke on his soda from laughing so hard). When it's Wendy's turn to "start," she turns to Cartman, grabs his chin in her hand, turns his face to hers, and kisses him full on the mouth.

"Okay. Pass it on," she says with a satisfied, smug smile.

Cartman looks to his left to see Tweek, who is staring at his plate of pancake debris and trembling, and trying not to look to the boy on his right. Cartman lets out a snort and says, "Screw you guys, I'm going home." As he passes behind my chair, he squeezes my shoulder. Odd. Wendy jumps up to follow him and mouths "I'll call you" in my general direction. I look at Tweek, who shrugs, and leans in to kiss me. He misses by about a centimeter; I laugh and reach up to muss his already-crazy hair. I turn to Butters, who is off in la-la land, doodling on the paper placemat with a pen he found in my bag. Okay, so Butters doesn't like girls, but since he's practically my best friend here, that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun. The game just got interesting; I want to keep it going.

I reach over and embrace the back of Butters' head with my left hand and gently tug on the short hairs there. He looks up, confused, and starts to speak, but I stop him by slowly pressing my lips to his. After a moment, I gently bite down on his lower lip, and then break the kiss. He looks absolutely dumbfounded, even more so than usual. When he finally speaks, he says, "You have got to teach me how to do that," and everyone at the table cracks up. He turns to Stan, giving him an awkward and chaste kiss. When Stan turns to Kyle, the table goes silent. Stan hesitates, asking permission with his eyes, but Kyle surprises us all by beating him to it, catching him off guard with a passionate kiss that lasts about ten seconds longer than could be considered "part of the game." We all erupt in a chorus of "ooooh" and don't stop until the goth kids at the next table shoot us daggers with their eyes.

I'm contemplating pulling out my phone and dialing Kenny's number again, when Tweek grabs my knee under the table and leans over. "I -ngh! Have a crush on Butters Stotch." Still in "Telephone" mode, I turn to Butters and start to whisper.

"I have a crush on Bu—I mean, Kenny. Butters, I have a crush on Kenny!" I save myself from spilling the very real secret at the last minute.

"Um, yeah, Ren. I knew that. Are you drinkin' or somethin'?" I barely hear him because I'm staring open-mouthed at Tweek, who is now shaking so hard I think he may just explode. I stand and practically pull him out of the chair. I take his hand and lead him to the restroom area. Once we are safely out of sight behind a cigarette machine and an obsolete payphone, I tell him to repeat himself.

"I-agh- I have a crush on B-Butters. I have for –ngh- a long time! I can't tell him though, that is way too much pressure!"

"Tweek, that's…." I smile. "But what about Craig, aren't you guys like…something?"

"N-no, agh, Craig and I really are just friends now. E-everyone assumes something else, but, but we're friends. And I know Butters has a thing for –ngh- Cartman, but you're like his best f-friend, so I had to tell you!"

I can' t believe I almost told him just now. My mind was so wrapped up in wondering where Kenny is, that I almost gave away my friend's secret. I think for a moment. "Well, do you want me to—"

"N-no!" Tweek starts to tremble again and his big eyes threaten to spill tears. "Maybe, just, you know…th-the next time you guys go out or whatever, you could, you could…"

"Of course, Tweek. We'll all go do something soon." I'm suddenly very tired; I feel so done with this day. I give the shaking boy a hug and head back to the table.

In our absence, most of the gang has left ("to go see a late movie" according to Kyle) leaving only Stan, Kyle, and Craig at the table. Tweek nudges Craig and whispers something to him, and they throw some money on the table before waving goodbye, Craig throwing up his usual one-finger greeting.

I am suddenly appalled by the mess we've left; I make a note to leave a huge tip but I'm grateful I don't have to clean up. I want nothing more than to change into ratty cut-off sweatpants and hibernate under my covers. I turn to the boys and plead, "Let's go home. I'm so tired I could fall asleep here on the table."

-XXX-

Stan, buzzed on sugar and coffee, proclaims his intent to travel down the entire hallway via somersaults. Kyle and I race to end to cheer him on, but before we can yell "go!" I look at my door and notice a pink Effen Vodka scrunchie hanging from the knob.

"What the fu…" I trail off as I pull a tiny sticky note from the door.

Hey roomie, fire at my bf's house so we have to stay here. Hope you don't mind! You know what the scrunchie on the door means! XOXO

I can't even feel anger; Kyle and I's race sucked any remaining energy from my body. I lean heavily against the wall and slide down, landing with a thud on the floor and placing my head on my knees. Stan rolls by, yelling "I'm sooooo dizzy!" but Kyle ignores his request for assistance; he is too busy reading the note that I let fall from my hand. When the dark-haired boy finally stands and stumbles over like Bambi learning to walk, I push myself up and make a silly, pouty face.

"There's no way I'm bugging Wendy and Cartman, and everyone else is at the movies…can I pleeeease sleep on your beanbag?"

"Of course, dude, we'll have a sleepover!" Stan shouts.

"Come on man, guys don't have sleepovers," Kyle says, his smile betraying the half-heartedness of his words.

"I know, but it gives us an excuse to eat Cheesy Poofs and play video games!"

I sigh, wondering if I will ever get any much-needed sleep. I'm pissed off about my formerly-MIA roommate's stunt and still feeling anxious about Kenny, but it's nearly impossible to stay in a bad mood with Kyle and Stan around.

"All right…but be warned, I plan to show my gratitude by kicking your asses at Super Smash Bros!"