chapter ; The Revelation
disclaimer 1 ; I obviously don't own South Park.
disclaimer 2 ;I do own what is written here, so please don't steal it.
author's note ; Sorry it has taken so long for this chapter. I do hope it lives up to expectations. Beware of the Kyle x Cartman fluff for about ten seconds. In my mind, they're still somewhat mortal enemies rather than emotional lovers in this particular story. Reviews are much enjoyed, as it is much easier to write when I know people like how the story is going. Enjoy ~
Drumming steadily in the background, the clock seemed to keep the steady rhythm of Kyle's breathing in its very essence. Laying on the couch, thin frame covered in a blanket, the redhead seemed to finally be in a deep slumber. Perhaps in part due to Cartman sitting on the floor next to him, playing a handheld game as he waited for his sexual partner to wake up. Beating yet another level, Cartman looked up at Kyle's pale face. Noticing no change, he growled under his breath and turned back to the game. He had almost beat all thirty levels since Mole left, and he wasn't about to stop until Kyle woke from his deep sleep. Out of paranoia, he had locked the door, checking the windows around the front as well.
Nothing had been out of order.
No one had called.
Nothing happened, but the steady tick of the clock, the shallow breaths of Kyle, the steady clicks of the game buttons.
Cartman met the boss in his game, mashing buttons furiously. Kyle groaned and tossed his hand out, smacking the larger teenager in the head. Jumping in surprise, Cartman let out a yelp before realizing what had happened. Tossing the game system to the side, he turned around, kneeling next to Kyle.
"You okay?" he asked worriedly.
"Cartman?"
"Who the fuck else would it be? You okay?"
Kyle put a hand to his forehead, grimacing as the pain shot through his body. "Ugh, I think so..." he groaned. "Can I get some water? All I can taste is blood."
Cartman nodded, getting up to run to the kitchen and back, carrying a glass of water. Waiting until Kyle sat up, he handed the redhead the cup. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone hit me with a truck," Kyle answered, sipping the cup and swishing the water in his mouth. Spitting back into the cup, the red mingled with the water, drifting in lazy arcs to create a glass of pink-tinted water. "Sick, dude," he said, pushing the glass into Cartman's hands.
"So what the hell happened?"
Kyle looked at him in confusion. Suddenly, a light went on in his head and recognition dawned on his face. Chewing on his lip, he pulled the blanket up around him, getting comfortable. "The job went perfeclty," he answered.
"What the hell do you mean, perfectly?" Cartman demanded, motioning to the bruised, broken body Kyle inhabited. "You look like shit. Someone beat the hell out of you."
Kyle chuckled, shaking his head despite the pain that shot through his neck. "Yeah, that was a little excessive, but it worked."
"They would have killed you if Mole hadn't stepped in," Cartman snapped angrily.
Kyle sighed. "Lets eat breakfast," he said. "I'll talk to you about it then."
Fuming, Cartman stood up. He hated it when Kyle defied him, but he hated it more when the boy kept him in the dark. When Cartman asked questions, he wanted the answers. No matter how fucked up the answer was, he asked for a reason. Giving Kyle a dirty look, he took the glass and walked into the kitchen. Splashing the bloody water into the sink, he slammed the glass down on the counter, yanked open the cupboard, and pulled down two bowls.
As poor as the strange couple were, they could afford cereal as a staple in their house. Kyle hated anything kosher, and ate the most disgusting things sometimes. Mole had said several times that Kyle would eat himself sick of fast foods, but as of yet, it hadn't happened. Cartman poured two large bowls of Frosted Flakes, pouring equal amounts of milk in each. Had he become a housewife in the years since school? No, but he had learned how to cook and how to like it. And, given the situation, he figured it was proper to dote on Kyle. A little.
Returning to the living room, he set the bowl in Kyle's lap and plopped down on the floor. "Eat," he ordered. Digging his own spoon into the bowl of cereal, Cartman shoveled it into his mouth, using his chewing as a distraction. As of the moment, he didn't feel like speaking to the redhead before him, though he didn't feel like leaving him alone in his current state.
Kyle seemed to understand the sentiment, for he simply ate in silence, taking small bites as he watched Cartman. By the time Cartman finished his bowl, Kyle had hardly eaten a dent into his own bowl. As Cartman eagerly looked for more, Kyle handed him the bowl. "I'm not hungry," he said briskly.
Taking it, Cartman put the spoon in his mouth. "Pansy," he grumbled around the mouthful of food. His eyes watched Kyle closely, wondering when the story would start, and when he could tell him to shut up.
The phone rang.
Cracking the silence, it sent a shiver down Cartman's spine. Getting to his feet, he crossed the room, picking the phone up on the third ring. Kyle shot him a worried look, but he rolled his eyes in response. "Hello?" he asked.
"Sheet, Cartman," Mole hissed. "Takes you long eenough to answer ze phone."
Irritated, the portly brunette almost hung up the phone. Somehow he had the feeling it was important, or the dirty little mercenary would have simply avoided contact, lurking in the shadows. "What do you want, you piece of shit?"
"Eets not safe," he answered breathlessly. "You and Kyle need to leave ze house."
Cartman glared at Kyle, making a mental note to beat the shit out of him the very next chance he had. "What the hell do you mean?" he demanded.
"Gregory, ze fucking beetch, 'e set us up."
"Set us up? You mean set you up. You fucking bastard, I knew this would happen. If I see you one more time, I'm gonna rip off your ballsack and feed it to you with your goddamn shovel!"
Mole blew smoke out, the crackling against the receiver irritating Cartman's ears. "I try to warn you, and zhis ees what I get." Grinding his teeth, Mole hit the receive against something hard several times. "Do you not understand me? Zhis is real life, with real consequences you take to ze grave! Are you going to fuck up again?" he snarled angrily.
Cartman tightened his grip on the phone, hearing the plastic creak beneath his fingers. "How do I even trust you? You're a fucking cancer."
Sighing heavily, Mole tried to explain himself. "Cartman, zhis ees Gregory of motzherfucking Yardale we are talking about. Ze leetle beetch crossed me. Crossed Kyle. 'E made sure to give ze wrong password, made sure to tell ze men where to go to cut Kyle off." Taking a pause, no doubt inhaling deeply on his permanent cigarette, Mole continued. "Zhey are staking 'im out, Cartman. Zhey know where 'e lives and zey wont hesitate to kill him."
The intake of breath was all Mole needed to know that somewhere, deep inside his fatty rolls and pissed off demeanor, Cartman was genuinely worried about something.
"Zhen you will leave?" Mole asked.
"Goddamnit, yes," he snapped, dropping the phone onto the reciever.
Kyle looked up, pulling the blanket closer. "Something wrong?" he asked curiously, a strange tone in his voice.
"Yeah, there's something wrong," he snapped. "Your goddamn French dick friend says we have to leave."
"No we don't," Kyle said, frowning.
Gritting his teeth, Cartman motioned to the phone. "Do either of you assholes mind telling me what's going on here?" he demanded.
A long pause filled the room, but Kyle didn't appear distressed in any other way than his physical pains. He sat simply on the couch, surrounded by blankets and pillows, looking every bit the spoiled poodle. The content, smug grin on his face only served to infuriate his roommate more, until finally, in a fit of anger, Cartman stormed across the room.
"What's so funny, Jew?" he asked.
Frowning, Kyle sighed. "I wish you wouldn't do that."
'Then tell me what's wrong! Tell me what's going on, because I don't feel like leaving this house. I paid for it, its mine."
"We don't have to leave, Cartman," Kyle said. "It's fine. Everything's working out." Shifting on the couch, he patted the spot next to him. As Cartman sat, Kyle leaned against him, putting his head on the other's shoulder. "We set it up this way," he said.
Cartman put his arm around Kyle slowly, taking comfort in the human warmth despite the source. "Just tell me what you did," he said in exasperation.
Snuggling closer, Kyle smiled into Cartman's red shirt. "We set it up, Gregory and I."
Cartman started, confused for a moment. Kyle would never betray someone - it wasn't who he was. "Wait, you mean you -"
Kyle nodded. "All of it. Gregory planted his own men in the operation." Kyle yawned, despite having slept for more than ten hours. "Mole.... he fell right into every trap we set."