"Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met." - Marguerite Duras

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That was the first sentence that came out of his mouth, and rightfully so it caused a chain reaction. Stan became flushed in embarrassment, while his mother looked like she was going to have a full fledged heart-attack. Good job, Kyle. Good job...

"Kyle!" his mother screamed, face turning a startling shade of red. Honestly he just wanted to go home, to climb into his spacious bed and fall asleep forever. That is, if his mother didn't kill him first.

"I-I'll just go." Stan finally said after a few tense seconds, awkwardly rising to his feet. Kyle watched as he walked towards the door, when suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Wait!" Blindly he snatched up the sleeve to Stan's shirt, fingers digging in. He had to fix this, fix...them.

He shot his mother a begging glance. She still looked pissed, but thankfully she understood. Muttering under her breath, particularly about getting too old for this and grandchildren, she stormed upstairs.

"I'm sorry, can we start again?"

Stan turned around, blue eyes open like a summertime sky. "I've missed you, Kyle."

Immediately his face burned with desire, guilt, and discomfiture. Oh, Stan.

Cartman sighed loudly, "What?"

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all..."

"Haley." he warned, eyeing the assistant that sat across from him. Her muddy brown eyes shifted away from his, not wanting to make contact.

1...2...3...4.."Alright!" she finally broke, "I can't stand it!"

Rolling his eyes at Haley's outburst, he dug his frame deeper into the car seat. Might as well get comfortable, surely she'd take forever to talk his ear off.

"I don't like him."

Scratching at the side of his face, he'd need to shave again, Cartman hummed in disinterest. "Who?"

Groaning at the lack of response, Haley chewed on the inside of her cheek, "The ginger! You know, Keith."

"Haley, we both know you know his name."

"Kyle, whatever! I don't like him!"

Fuck it still being morning, he needed a drink. He reached into the mini-bar to his side, hand cooling as he grabbed a chilled bottle of rum. The seated blonde huffed as her employer became distracted, and was much too tired to complain about the time of day he drank.

She ripped the bottle from his grip and withdrew a can of coke from the same mini-bar. While she began to make his drink, she watched Eric through narrowed eyes.

"And you always said, never mix pleasure with business." she mumbled under her breath, chest squeezing painfully with the scarred wound.

"...First of all, he isn't a ginger. Day-walker, Haley. Day-walker. Secondly, we aren't working together and quit acting like I'm going to marry the guy. It was sex, that's it. And lastly, do we seriously need to be having this discussion again? I'm already balls deep in shit right now, and you aren't really helping."

Battling the automatic "I'm sorry, sir", Haley pressed the recently made drink into Cartman's grasp, wary when her hand was left wet from the sweating cup.

"It will be soon, the union to that mining company will be hiring a legal firm. Apparently the members don't like the fact that the business will be switching hands, especially to a younger man. Lucky for you, Mr. Broflovski will be part of that same team."

Cartman took a large gulp from his icy beverage with the revelation, already a muted buzz was there to greet him. He should have known things would get messy when he met Kyle, or fucked him to oblivion.

"The bearer of good news as always, Haley. So..." he paused with another sip, "you couldn't resist gathering info, hm?"

A blush was quick to work its way onto the usually composed woman's face, marring her beauty when it flashed with shame and anger.

"What did you expect of me, sir? You can't trust a man with cheekbones as sharp as those! They should be classified as a weapon, you could stab someone with them!" she loudly proclaimed, becoming more and more flustered as those eyes focused on her.

If only they eased up on their dissection and turned into a loving gaze, then she'd be happy.

But as of late she was limited to cleaning up after his flings, which seemingly ranged in shape and size on his whim that instance. Sadly she wasn't one of them, and she doubted she'd ever would be. Not if that...day-walker got in the way. Eric T. Cartman was a passionate man, but in bed he left his partners to do all of the work. Not that he wasn't good, it was just that he lacked the ferocity he usually held.

Kyle Broflovski had screwed everything up, because when they shared that night together...Something Haley could only recall in disgust, Eric was the exact opposite of his usual self. She was sure that everyone in the hotel and down the street heard the commotion, and going by the messages she received, they did. Some didn't mind, but the families with younger children did.

For a hotel claiming to be the best in their district, they sure did have paper-thin walls. If only it was her...

That one night, filled with heartbreak and cheap drinks might not have meant anything to him. But to Haley it was the beginning of a relationship, one filled with affection, deep conversations, and overall comfort(luxury).

"Haley, you're a real crazy bimbo."

Inwardly she winced at the joined chuckle, but she forced a smile of her own, "Er-thanks, sir."

"Anytime."

Glancing over her shoulder towards the driver's tinted glass, Haley hummed as her ear piece buzzed with a expectant update.

"Five minutes until we arrive."

"I didn't really get to see you at the reunion, man."

"I know," Kyle shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I spent my time with Eri-Cartman."

Stan furrowed his brow, "Wendy wanted to see you too."

Well, I don't give a shit what Wendy wants. "That's too bad, but I sort of felt obligated, you know?"

Clearly confused, Stan curtly shook his head. Kyle sighed, leaning back on his parent's couch. This is not what he imagined today would be like, sitting in his childhood living room and talking about Kyle's latest one-night stand.

The thing is, he hoped it'd be more then one night. Nothing exclusive, just a distraction from the beautiful man beside him. Only Stan didn't know anything about the sex. God, he hoped he never did find out.

"Cartman and I...we've always had this thing, a understanding. I felt like I had to talk to him, to move on."

"He did pull a lot of shit on you...on us." Stan admitted, rubbing at his eyes. He had bags under them, maybe he had insomnia too.

Or maybe he's too busy to sleep with Wendy su-

"Exactly." Kyle agreed, sounding a little too chipper to his own ears. Fake.

"Well I guess I can say this, you look good. And I mean it, man. But so does anyone that get's laid."

"Um, what?"

Stan held out his hands in front of himself, almost as he was shielding his person. "Relax. I'm not going to scream it out to the rooftops, but you should tell them to ease up next time. Looks like you were attacked by some horny vampires. But hey, must have been one hell of a night."

Blushing with sheer horror coursing through his veins, Kyle felt at his neck.

Shit, the collar must have slipped down, did his mother see too? Stan was bad enough. And all because of Eric fucking Cartman!

"It's cool, I don't think your mom saw." Stan laughed, guessing the thought racing through the red head's frantic mind. "I didn't come here to delve into you getting some action, so do you want to talk later? At a bar or something?"

Kyle couldn't have nodded faster, happy to get out of this situation.

"Right, my number is still the same. So text me later, and please wear a turtleneck or something."

The two climbed to their feet, offering each other an awkward handshake before Kyle walked Stan off onto the front porch.

After saying goodbye to his crush, Kyle locked the door behind Stan and bolted up the stairs. Safe in the bathroom, he quickly turned on the shower.

All he could smell now was vanilla, smoke, and that musk from before. Angrily he ripped his shirt off, not caring when a few of the buttons popped.

Fiddling with the heat to the water, Kyle finally saw it as he glanced to the mirror above the sink. Not the hickeys, he expected those. But the numbers on his back, written in permanent marker. Immediately he recognized the lazy but charismatic scrawl, it was Eric Cartman's phone number.

And following it, was a little note:

Call me when you're ready for round 2.

- Eric C.

When did he...? And why in the fuck couldn't he remember Cartman writing on his back!?