A/N: Back to the office yey

Enjoy~

Kyle's fingers drummed anxiously against his arm as he made his way out of his office and through the upstairs corridor of the building. He bit his lip as he turned the corner, catching Cartman's door slightly ajar and taking a deep breath. He hated this. He hated being forced out of his regular routine to make conversation with his boss, but this matter just called for it above all else.

The last two days of adding and re-adding numbers time and again between his and Bebe's yearly account had brought up nothing. Double checks with Anna had been constant, he'd brought in Butters to reread every single number to make sure that exhaustion wasn't just obscuring his vision and his mind somehow. By all accounts, it made absolutely no sense. The money was going exactly where it was designated, and Anna had informed himself and Kenny in a conference call that nothing had been taken out of the account.

This was beyond worrying, and he knew the exact ramifications it could have. Even taking the kids and the center out of the equation, this was a legal disaster waiting to happen. He knew that Kenny would never take him to court, but he also knew Bebe. She was a gossip, and probably naively unaware that she could be held responsible just as easily. He and Ken had made her swear up and down to keep this all to herself , but that was never exactly a guarantee with her. She tried, but sometimes holding in that juicy bit of hearsay was a power play that she couldn't help but utilize when backed against the wall in suburban obscurity.

Kyle clutched the folder in his hand and steadied out his breathing as he approached the door to Cartman's lavish office, setting his lips firmly. He listened for any sound of a telephone conversation, nodding to himself at the silence and knocking on the open door.

"What?" Cartman called impatiently. Kyle pushed his way in, the brunette looking up at him from his paperwork and blinking, obviously surprised at Kyle's impromptu presence. It was more than rare that he'd come into this office at his own free will, perfectly content with stewing away in his own, in his 'safe space'. "Something the matter, Jew?" he cocked his brow.

"Yeah, actually," he muttered. "You have a minute?"

He glanced at his clock and shrugged. "Maybe five."

"Good," he said, closing the door behind him and heading up to his desk, sitting in the chair across from him with that worry still etched on his face. "Cartman... Money is disappearing," he said quietly. He held up his hand as the man's face filled with a sudden fear. "Not from us in particular. From the Homeless Youth Center."

"Kinny's place?" he cocked his head.

He nodded solemnly, opening his folder and snagging the top two papers, laying them side-by-side on the man's desk in front of him. "Look at how big these gaps are between the years," he murmured, snagging a pen and pointing to the figures.

Cartman rolled his eyes, "Kahl. I can't control how much money people fuckin' donate. Tell Po'Boy sorry, but we don't-"

"It's not only that," he interjected, sitting back in his chair and staring at Cartman defeatedly. "We're depositing the money into his account like we're supposed to, down to the penny... But not all of it is going through."

"Whaddya mean?" he narrowed his gaze.

"I mean nearly a thousand less than I'm putting in is actually depositing," he said exhaustedly. "I've called the bank and they're saying that the exact amount is going in and money isn't being withdrawn from their account. Cartman, this isn't making sense... I-I can't figure it out for the life of me," he admitted defeatedly, slinking down in his chair.

The brunette let out a long breath through his lips, tapping his pen on his desk. "You sure Kinny isn't stealing it?"

Sharp green eyes shot up at him and narrowed. "I know he's not and so do you," he snarled. "Ken wouldn't fucking pull something like that, not from his fucking dream."

He shrugged, taking a sip of the Coke bottle beside of him. "Look, sometimes people figure out their dream doesn't pay well enough so they slide themselves a little extra now and then. Happens when you have a business with a clueless accountant like Stevens," he scoffed.

"Bebe is doing fine," he defended, temper steadily rising. "She's doing absolutely everything right. Something fishy is going on here, Fatass."

Cartman folded his hands in front of him and shrugged again. "What the fuck do you expect me to do about it?"

His shoulders dropped and he ran his hand up through his curls. "I... I don't even know," he confessed. "I thought maybe... you'd have an idea."

The brunette frowned, "Kahl, do you remember when I went to your house and offered you this job? How I saved you from the depths of poverty?" he smirked.

"Yes," he seethed bitterly.

"Do you know why I was so kind in offering you a job? Even though, let's be honest here, you never fucking deserved my kindness," he scoffed.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, glaring at the man dead-on. "I'm assuming so you could hold it against me for the rest of my life," he snapped.

Cartman snorted, "While that does make a great perk, no. I hired you because this is what you're good at. Your Jew ancestry obviously-"

"I swear to fucking God I will sue you for discrimination if you make another goddamn 'Jew skills' joke," he cautioned dangerously.

The man rolled his eyes, waving away the notion. "Whatever. Look, my fucking point is, I didn't hire you because of friendship or something faggy like that. I fucking hired you because this is what you do."

"They didn't exactly prepare me for this kind of obscure laundering in college, Cartman," he sighed tiredly. "The bank is lost, I'm lost, Ken's lost... Nothing is adding up."

He sighed irritably, "Look, Jew, here's the deal: We did our part. It went into the bank. It's the bank that's fucking up, not us. My advice? Back away from it and let Kinny handle his own fucking problems. He's a big boy, he can deal with it like one."

He grit his teeth, "Cartman, these are kids. Homeless kids! We can't just sit back and... And pretend that all's well and good when it's kids on the line here!" he protested.

Cartman cocked his brow. "Are you actually concerned about the kids? Or just Kinny?"

"I can be concerned for both, Fat-tits. Some of us have the moral capacity to handle more than one misfortune at a time!" he sneered.

"What the fuck do you expect me to do about it?" he demanded again. "I'm not the goddamn bank, Kahl. This is your job. This is why you're here. I brought you in to handle the money shit because, let's face it, you do it fuckin' better than even me. So you need to march your skinny ass back to your damn office and figure this out because I don't have the goddamn answers for you!"

Kyle got to his feet, temper reaching its breaking point and slamming his hands on his desk, glaring down at the man. "Look, I came in here to talk like fucking co-workers, not have you fucking berate me for this! As my boss, it's your job to help me when I'm in a situation that I can't handle!"

Cartman stood up and leaned down on the opposite side in towards his face, breathing angrily. "And as your boss, I'm telling you that I don't know what the fuck to do for you," he growled. "You know the finances better than I do, Jew! My job is to make deals, you handle what happens from there!"

"Well, maybe I need someone else to help me handle those last aspects!" he snapped. "Yeah, you make the fucking deals, all right. You fucking sit down with clients for ten minutes, and then I'm stuck working on paperwork for the next four months trying to get everything in order!"

He rolled his eyes, "Why do you think I pay you so fucking much?! I know it's a lot of work, but there's a reason you almost make as much as I do!"

"Because you know I wouldn't do this amount of back-breaking bullshit for any less," he hissed. "Let's not lie to ourselves, Fatass. You only pay me that much because you don't want to deal with the issues or the headaches or fucking losing sleep because you're drowning in numbers!"

"Yeah," he scoffed wryly. "I hire people to do that shit for me because I can. This you telling me you wanna quit, Jew?"

Kyle froze for a moment, staring into his amber eyes, catching a glimpse of his infuriated reflection and noting for the first time how much he was tremoring. He absolutely could. He could just throw Cartman's soda on him, waltz out the door, and never look back. But... Then he'd be leaving Kenny in someone else's hands. Someone who wouldn't care as much and wouldn't actually make the efforts to go above and beyond to help the center. He'd never be able to live with himself if the matter never got resolved. "I... No," he sighed, dropping his head tiredly. "I just want to fix this problem," he murmured, clenching his fists. "I have so much else to take care of... Cartman, I-I can't handle this much longer."

The brunette watched him carefully, pursing his lips a bit as he watched Kyle trying to lead himself through some breathing, try to regain some of his cooled practiced demeanor. He sighed, scratching through his hair. "Can you survive without calling Stotch over the next few weekends?" he grumbled.

"Huh?" he shot his head up, blinking back frustrated tears that were welling on his eyes.

"Butters," he elaborated with an eye roll. "I know you call him over the weekends to clarify files now and then. Can you deal with not bothering him for about a month's worth of weekends?"

"I... I guess," he shrugged. He hated to admit that he usually only called his assistant because he needed to hear someone's fucking voice. Killing two birds with one stone getting some work done was just a bonus, Ken and Stan would just be too distracting for him to catch himself up on the week's missed files.

He nodded curtly, "Sit down, Kahl." The redhead obediently slid back down into his chair, watching Cartman take his seat as well and they stared at each other for a few moments before the brunette just nodded again. "I'll send Butters to classes to take off some of your workload."

Angels may as well have burst through the ceiling in that moment, the Heavens opening and shining a divine light on the battered accountant. "Really?" he whispered, half unbelieving of what he was hearing.

Cartman rolled his eyes, "Yes, really. But... There's a price on your end."

He hitched his brow. "Okay... Like what?"

He shrugged, "You're giving up your raise and your holiday bonus to send him through the classes. You'll get one next year, but this year the money will be used to compensate Butters' training."

Kyle nodded eagerly, "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. That's completely fair," he agreed. A raise meant nothing to him in this moment. He'd probably kick himself when the holidays rolled around, but this? This was beyond monetary value. He could practically feel the stress rolling off of his back at long last. "Thank you."

"We'll discuss how you break up the duties down the line," he continued, shooting a sharp gaze that Kyle could feel penetrating his very being. "That being said, you will still handle the majority of the work, Jew. I don't trust Butters to handle this much. You can give him bitch work, but you are to remain in control of the important funds. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," he said, biting his lip, eyes dancing in a way that nearly made Cartman snort aloud. Kyle forced himself to step down from his high for a moment, remembering what he came in for and sighing. "Okay, that's great but... I still have Kenny's problem."

He twisted his lips slightly, "Kahl. I don't know what to tell you. This is your jurisdiction. You're the one who went to school for this, not me. I'm as lost as Butters in the mess you've made."

He narrowed his eyes, "Excuse me?"

"Not like that," he groaned. "I mean you're the one who sets up the banking system." He glanced down at the papers on his desk, shaking his head and gathering them up, shoving them back into Kyle's folder and holding it towards him. "You're on your own here, Jew."

He frowned, shoulders sinking as he took it back and stared at it. "What if I can't figure it out? Cartman... I could be in a lot of trouble if we can't find this money."

"We have a legal team for a reason," he assured him. "You'll be fine."

They both shot their heads up as the door was knocked and Cartman sighed, hitting his lock button next to him, "Come in!" he called. They watched as two men dressed in three-piece suits stepped into the room, Kyle shrinking down at the intimidating stare they both held. One was maybe only Kenny's height, stocky with a sharp nose and piercing hazel eyes that cut like a busted bottle dripping with ale. The other stood nearly a foot higher, broadly built like Cartman himself, a thick salt-and-peppered beard resting on his face. "Ah, good to see you, gentlemen. Kyle, these are some associates of ours," he fell into that sweet 'professional' voice he could slip so easily in and out of at the drop of a hat.

Kyle got to his feet with Cartman and turned, smiling meekly. "Hello."

Cartman walked around the desk and put his hand on Kyle's shoulder, shaking him a bit. "This is Mr. Broflovski. He's our controller," he explained.

"Allo," the larger man greeted gruffly, the shorter merely nodding in acknowledgement.

"That's Mr. Kashkov," Cartman introduced, pointing at the larger. "And that one there is Mr. Burke." He led the redhead up to them, Kyle clearing his throat and shaking both their hands, plastering on his customer service smile.

"Good to meet you," he said smoothly.

"And you," Burke nodded once again.

He eyed the both of them, mind trying to trace through the numbers of meetings he'd had with associates to try to find them. He focused in particular on the burly man in front of him, eyes narrowing the slightest in suspicion. He'd figure he'd remember someone so distinguishable. "What company are you associated with?" he asked.

"Ve come from company vhich sells car parts," Kashkov shrugged. "Ve need advertisement."

"They're not with us yet, Kyle," Cartman elbowed him slightly in warning. "We're still negotiating."

"Ah," he nodded, plastering his smile back on and tucking his hair behind his ear. "My mistake. Hope to have you on the team," he said. He turned to Cartman and sighed, "Thank you," he said again.

He nodded, patting his shoulder, "You'll figure it out, Kyle," he promised, the men splitting apart from one another and Kyle stepping through them, giving them another nod and a goodbye as he walked through the office door back into the hall. Cartman shut the door firmly, watching him as he receded back to his own office with a frown spreading on his face.

"Zhat ees heem?" Kashkov questioned, the both of them watching with Cartman as Kyle turned the hall out of their sight.

Cartman nodded slightly, fingers tightening around the door handle. "Yeah. That's him."

Back in his office, Kyle threw his folder down onto his desk in frustration. He didn't know what he'd expected when the idea of taking this dilemma to Cartman had came about, but he knew well enough now in hindsight, he should have expected exactly what happened. Cartman left him to his own devices for a reason, because he didn't like getting caught in the chaos that swirled around Kyle on a daily basis. He liked keeping his paperwork to a minimum, using his speaking skills to get across what he wanted rather than write it all down and file it away for future reference.

After all, that's why he hired people: Because he could.

Kyle sighed, glancing at the clock hovering above his door. One o'clock. He twisted his lips, stomach beginning to growl and he rolled his eyes. He moved to look under his desk in his fridge, pulling out a tupperware container of chicken and potatoes that Wendy had sent with Stan for their meeting. Hell, she'd sent a cooler of food, the demand being placed that five empty dishes a week better be coming back to their house or he was getting another hour-long lecture on keeping himself alive. Kyle smiled to himself, tossing the container into his microwave and setting it to cook.

They annoyed him to no end with their nagging, but he couldn't help but love how Stan and Wendy had somehow become the parents of their group. It used to be him for so damn long until they popped out Sam, then all of a sudden they were thrown into high-gear protective mode over the lot of them that still kept in contact from their schoolyard days. Being the only ones married and with a child guaranteed them their spot as everyone's mom and dad, and Kyle had a strong feeling he wasn't the only one that appreciated their constant worrisome concern. It definitely took a load of stress off his shoulders, knowing well enough that was it still him always being the voice of reason for every problem combined with his job, he'd be in the hospital from his sixth goddamn heart attack right about now.

His smile faded, looking down at the folder of his discontent and sighed through his nose. This just didn't add up to him, the numbers just not clicking. Everything seemed to be in order, Anna guaranteeing that everything he'd set into place was as it should be. So why wasn't it working for him? He'd never had this kind of problem in the past, every issue resolved with a simple recalculation. He bit his knuckle, shoe tapping against the thin carpet. There had to be something he was overlooking.

He turned as the microwave went off, snagging his dish out of the confines and scooping up a forkful of mashed potatoes, taking a large chomp and practically melting into himself. Homemade food was almost a thing of the past for him, now grown into the kind of guy who looked forward to holidays just so he had an excuse to go home and get his mom's cooking. He sat down in his chair, sinking into the material exhaustedly and glancing at the clock. 1:03. He had seven minutes left. Seven minutes of Heaven to be precise. He'd promised Stan to make himself a good ten minutes a day for lunch at the bare minimum, trying to force himself into the mindset that he fucking deserved it.

However, ten minutes sans typing or not, that didn't stop his mind from racing as he chewed a piece of savory chicken, letting the spices dance over his palate like a foreign memory. He continued staring at his folder, as though looking at it hard enough would project the answer onto the manilla surface. This just baffled him beyond all else. He'd specifically worked Kenny's contract so he got more buckets out in town than anyone. Sure, the bias rang clear as day, but it was for kids, and people fucking visited the damn humane society all the time. No one stopped by to see the poor homeless children who were trying to find a way to get their lives together, and in Kyle's opinion, that made them more deserving of donations than a house of dogs and cats any day. There was no chance of any kids being whisked into a better home, they had to make due with what was given to them, regardless of how shitty it may or may not be.

His phone buzzed and he jerked in surprise, pulling it out of his pocket and reading a text from his bank. 'Withdrawn- $4000 from checking'.

He smiled, nodding to himself. Good. Seemed Kenny finally realized that the money wasn't an option that Kyle had handed him. His grin faded a bit. They'd lost almost six thousand in six months, and they were one of the most profitable charities in town. He couldn't imagine how the smaller ones would be if they were in the same situation.

He paused, swallowing a bite and his mouth dropping a bit. What if they weren't the only ones?

Kyle set his food down, paging Butters to the office and biting his knuckle again. He had to be sure. Smaller charities wouldn't necessarily recognize such a discrepancy, used to fluctuating donations being a constant or their percentage being low enough it just didn't strike them as more than a nuisance.

The door erupted with sound and he pressed the lock button, watching Butters come into the room with a smile. "Yeah?"

"Butters, I have a big favor I need you to do," he said lowly, watching the blonde's muddy eyes light with eagerness and motioning for him to sit down in the seat across from him.

"What can I do for ya?" he questioned.

Kyle glanced at his calender on his desk, tonguing over his still-seasoned lips. "How clear is my schedule next week?"

Butters pulled out his phone, scrolling through Kyle's preliminary and shrugging, "Ya got a bunch of meetin's here."

"Any with outside companies?" he questioned.

The blonde shook his head, "Nah. Oh, wait, there's one here for that company that makes the floral arrangements."

Kyle looked up in thought, nodding to himself. They needed to negotiate their contract, couldn't push them back. "All right. How comfortable are you with meetings that we have here?"

He blinked, cocking his head. "Well... well I ain't uncomfortable," he shrugged.

"Look, you took me some great notes when Cartman sent you to the design meeting for me on Monday. Can you do that again?"

He nodded enthusiastically, "Well, sure I can! What meetin'?"

"All of them for this building," he cocked his brow, watching Butters blinking in bewilderment once again.

"A-all of 'em?" he repeated.

Kyle shrugged, "Unless there's a sect here you're uncomfortable with."

He shied down, "Well... I can't lead the financial meetin', Kyle."

Oh. Right. Kyle smirked, "Okay, aside from my meeting, are there any you don't think you can handle?"

"Processing?" he winced. "Judy's awful rude t' me. I-I think she has it out for me."

"That cunt has it out for everyone," he said flatly, waving off his embarrassed face. "But yeah, I get you. I'll take care of that one. All others though. Can you take notes for me if I'm out of the building?"

Butters nodded slowly, "Yeah, that ain't a problem..." He brightened. "Are ya finally goin' on vacation? Ya know, it'd be good for ya, Kyle."

"For the love of God," he muttered to himself, scratching through his hair. "No. I need you to schedule me meetings throughout next week with our charities."

"Sure!" He said before pausing, noticing the worry lingering deep in Kyle's jade eyes. "Any particular... reason?" he asked cautiously.

Kyle folded in his lips, "Close the door," he said softly. Butters nodded, hopping to his feet and rushing to shut the barrier, Kyle watching him as he hurried back and took his seat, staring at him with undivided attention. "Butters, what I'm going to tell you is absolutely confidential," he said firmly. "Only you, I, and Cartman will know and it is to stay that way, are we clear?"

"Crystal," he assured him.

"Because otherwise, I swear to god I will have your ass out of here so fast you'll think you teleported," he snapped.

Butters recoiled, nodding briskly, "Kyle, I won't say a word," he promised. "What is it?"

He sighed, leaning back and staring at his chicken going cold. "Kenny's charity has money being stolen. I don't know by who and I'm working on it, but the way it's happening is really suspicious."

The blonde looked absolutely devastated by such a circumstance. "Who... who would steal from kids?" he asked pathetically.

Kyle shrugged, "A piece of shit, that's who. I need to make sure this isn't happening to any of the other charities. So you're going to call each one of them and set up a meeting for me, claiming that I'm preparing the company for an audit."

"Ain't that lyin'?" he winced.

The redhead frowned, "Butters, this is for them. I can't have them know if they're missing money until I get to the bottom of it, understand? If they do, I'm going to lose my job, and probably fucking end up in prison for something I didn't do, because I'm going to be fucking suspect number one if this goes further than Ken's center."

"If you ain't guilty, they can't convict ya," he said with confidence.

Kyle's eyes drooped, completely unamused with a grown-ass man having such goddamn naiveté. "Butters, look. This is a matter of money. You know that I could kill a man and probably not get as long a sentence as if they suspect I was laundering?" he grimaced. "I wouldn't go to fucking jail. I'd go to prison," he emphasized. "Especially if they think I'm stealing from charity. I could show them all the evidence in the goddamn world but as soon as someone mentions the possibility of me taking from non-profits, their minds are made up," he said firmly, tapping his desk in anxiety. "You have to help me, here," he said desperately. "Butters, as a friend and as my assistant, I need you to cooperate and keep this to yourself, do you understand me?"

The blonde stared at him for a long time, face falling into absolute pity, "This ain't fair t' you at all, Kyle."

"Trust me, I know. But it's really not fair to whoever is having their profits taken," he sighed. "I'm telling you this because I trust you," he insisted. "Will you help me?"

He nodded, "Of course I will, Kyle. Heck, I'll be a character witness for ya if things go sour."

"Hm, well, let's hope it doesn't get that far," he said softly. He rubbed his temple gently and rolled his aching shoulders. "Fill up my week all you can, all right? I have to finish up month end in here," he gestured to his computer aimlessly. "Get all of them scheduled."

"Will do," he promised, getting to his feet and walking up to the door. He cleared his throat and Kyle looked at him giving him a small smile. "Ken told us whatcha did for 'im," he said shyly. "Ain't no one gonna convict ya for handin' out that much money for those kids." He turned and walked out of the room, Kyle staring after him and blinking before turning back to his desk and letting a long breath escape him. He gulped, pushing the folder and his barely-touched lunch to the edge of his desk, focusing his energy onto his computer monitor. They could wait, at least for now. He had too much to do in the meantime.

A/N: I miss Cartman and Kyle banter I don't write it nearly as often anymore it's so sad

Thanks for R&Ring!