Chapter Text
Cartman slammed his notebook down onto his desk, the resulting slap echoing throughout the classroom. A few students sent him glares, although he could give two shits what those uptight dickheads thought of him. They were always trying to stifle his self-expression and creativity by telling the teacher he was “harassing” them by saying “racial slurs.” Out of jealousy, he suspected. Cartman flipped them off and slid into his seat, the cheap plastic creaking under his weight.
“Hey, Kenny, you got last night’s homework?” Eric turned to the blonde next to him and tapped his slender shoulder insistently.
“Homework?” Kenny sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Can’t help you there, man. I was with Craig last night.”
Cartman assumed that was some sort of code for “I had a dick so far up my ass yesterday I could taste it.” The homosexuals were sure getting creative with these ciphers. Unfortunately, this information did not help him in his task of not getting his mom called by his bitch teacher because he was failing her class. It wasn’t even his fault this time! It was stupid Kenny getting his asshairs braided instead of doing his homework like he was supposed to.
The brunette pursed his lips and tried to smile despite how much he really wanted to slam Kenny’s fat head into the wall until it was painted a nice rich burgundy. “Ken. We had an agreement, remember? I take you and your sister to Burger King once a week, and you,” Cartman jabbed his fat finger into Kenny’s chest, not quite hard enough for it to hurt but firm enough to get his point across. “Get the homework done.”
“Oops.” Kenny shrugged. “Are you still taking us to Burger King?”
“I’ll take your sister but you’re gonna’ have to sit outside in the car.”
“Aw…” The blonde pouted but didn’t object. The last thing he needed was for Cartman to start an argument and then take away Karen’s Burger King privileges. It was her favorite night in the whole week, partly because they got to eat at her favorite “restaurant” and partly because she got to talk to Cartman about things Kenny couldn’t even begin to comprehend, like whatever the fuck Animals Crossing was.
Honestly, it was as cute as it was concerning to see how well the fatass and Karen got along, considering Karen was the sweetest kid Kenny knew and Cartman was a notorious sociopath whose body count rivaled that of Hussein himself. Then again, Eric did have a knack for attracting good-natured folks and wrapping them up in his bullshit. Kenny made sure to keep Karen and Cartman at arm’s length for that exact reason. He didn’t want him rubbing off on her or promoting her as his new lackey or something.
Still, he found his heart warming on those days Cartman took them out to eat. She’d talk his head off, but Cartman didn’t seem to mind one bit. He’d just talk right back, little tidbits of knowledge regarding Karen’s interests and hobbies that only served to excite her even more. Some days they’d spend a whole hour just talking and talking without Kenny being able to get a word in.
The blonde tilted his head and let out a dramatic sigh. “Are you at least going to leave the AC on?”
“Hell no.” Cartman stuck out his tongue like the overgrown brat he was. “I’ll just leave the windows down a little so they don’t call the cops. Leaving a dog inside a hot car for too long is illegal, you know.”
Kenny rolled his eyes and turned around to face his friend. “Fuck you, fatass.” He spat, although there wasn’t any venom behind his curse. Honestly, he found Cartman’s stupidity more amusing than offensive when he wasn’t talking shit about his family. Kenny felt pretty content knowing he could beat Cartman’s ass in a fight if and when the asshole took it too far.
“Very original, Kenny. Where’d you find that little quip? The Khal catalog, perhaps?”
“It’s a classic.” Kenny blew a kiss to his friend which shut him up, at least for the time being. He turned back to his notebook and began glancing over his notes while he waited for the teacher to finish handing out the worksheet so she could continue her lecture. Kenny waited forever, impatiently tapping his pencil on the desk as the teacher shuffled around the room, too fat to maneuver around the desks and much too old to be teaching a group of rowdy high schoolers with nothing better to do than yell over each other.
Kenny glanced toward Cartman and raised his eyebrows to indicate he was bored again. Surprisingly Cartman had managed to stay quiet during the long wait… and with one look at him, it was apparent that it didn’t seem to be out of respect for his classmates. The fat boy was pale, paler than usual, leaning over his desk with his hand cupped around his mouth. Kenny raised an eyebrow. “You alright?” He asked, concern evident in his voice.
Eric didn’t even bother to turn his head as he choked out a noise, much like that of a groan or a cry. His voice broke halfway. It was pathetic.
“Cartman?” Kenny reached over his desk to pat his friend’s back. Jesus, he seemed to be getting whiter by the second. The fat boy pushed the hand away and stood up from his desk, his stance wavering as he struggled to find his footing. Kenny stood as well. “Dude, sit down. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Cartman pressed his hand over his mouth again and let out a wet gag that snapped a few necks in their direction. Before Kenny could even say anything, Cartman was darting out the door at full speed (Kenny didn’t even know he could move that fast!), leaving the teacher calling out his name as the door slammed shut behind him. Kenny stuffed his notebook into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, running straight after his friend despite his teacher’s threats of writing them up.
Kenny rushed down the hallway, following the sound of Cartman’s Adidas squeaking on the tile. The brunette turned the corner and swung open the bathroom door. By the time Kenny made it to the stalls, Cartman was already gripping the sides of the toilet as the wet sound of vomit hitting porcelain echoed through the empty stalls like they were in a cave.
Cartman gagged loudly, followed by another round of puking until the fat boy could be heard panting for air as though he were having an asthma attack.
Kenny walked into the stall and locked it behind him. Kneeling down next to Eric, he gently rested his hand on his friend’s plush back. He peeked a little into the toilet but quickly looked away once he noticed there wasn’t any blood or vital organs floating around in there. At least it meant Cartman wasn’t going to die (and more importantly, Burger King was still on the menu).
“You all good now?” Kenny asked once Cartman’s breathing evened and the vomiting ceased. The brunette nodded slowly, his hair sticking to his face from the sweat he worked up, from the running or from the violent puking. His skin had returned to its usual shade, at least. Maybe it was a little splotchy from his exertion, but he wasn’t ghost white anymore.
“Fuck.” He leaned back into Kenny’s chest and let out a groan. Kenny could smell the stench of upchuck on him but he decided not to point it out and embarrass the poor guy.
“I knew I shouldn’t have taken a bite of your sandwich yesterday.” Eric reached out to flush the toilet and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “You probably gave me syphilis or rabies from that possum meat you stupid hicks eat.”
“Fuck you.” Kenny barked, pushing his friend hard enough that Cartman slammed into the toilet. “For all I know, this could just be a cover-up for your nasty case of bulimia.”
Eric smirked and stood from the ground to wipe his hands off on his baggy cargos. Thankfully he hadn’t dripped onto his coat or else he would’ve had to go the rest of the day without a jacket, and it was way too close to winter to be playing those games. He wiped some hair from his face and turned to glance at Kenny, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. Cartman scrunched his upturned nose. “You got something you want to say, asshole?”
But the blonde just shrugged, getting up to stand next at the sink so he could gaze at his reflection in the cracked mirror. “You have any idea what that was about?” He asked after a few seconds of fiddling with his hair in the mirror. It was overgrown and a little matted towards the back. He probably couldn’t run a hairbrush through it if he tried.
Cartman always bitched about it making him look homeless but Kenny figured it was more grunge than anything. Not that he was trying to hide the fact that he was too broke for fancy shampoos and whatnot. Everyone in town knew by now that he didn’t have any money.
Still, the fatass was very image-oriented, a real faggy quirk if you asked Kenny. He’d even tried brushing out the blonde’s mane a few times, when no one was around and they were too tired or high to care about personal space. Unfortunately, he never managed to get too far before the comb snapped.
“What the fuck do you care? It’s probably just food poisoning or something.” Eric leaned onto the tiled wall, tracing his finger over a crudely drawn penis someone had scribbled with a Sharpie. Kenny wanted to point out that he didn’t really care. He had only asked because if Cartman had a stomach bug, he might pass it around school, but he just stared at his reflection in silence instead.
There were times when he really couldn’t stand Cartman, but he didn’t get off on telling him that he hated his lard-engulfed guts like Kyle. Cartman was his “friend” in that they hung out, smoked together, and associated with one another in public. There wasn’t a complex emotional bond or any rules or some other stupid bullshit like with Stan and Kyle. They didn’t even fight, really. It was just bare bones. Toast without butter, cereal with no milk. They’d always kind of been that way. Hadn’t they?
“We should go back before the bell rings.” Kenny turned to Cartman who still had his back pushed up against the wall. There was some spit in the corner of his mouth that Kenny had to stop himself from wiping off. The fatass nodded and motioned to the stall door, implying he wanted Kenny to go first.
“Get my backpack. I’m just gonna ditch.”
Kenny scoffed. Both of them knew that the school would call his mom when they found out he’d skipped the whole day. However, it didn’t seem that Cartman really gave a damn. He’d gotten away with much worse at the fucking school and they’d only been going for a year and a half.
The blonde slid the latch to open the door and walked out of the bathroom, narrowly dodging a wet tee-pee that fell from the ceiling and what looked to be a river of piss splitting the room in half. By the time he actually made it out into the hallway, the bell had rung and his teacher was standing at her door, her solid arms crossed over her chest as he approached the classroom.
“Here.” She reached down to grab Cartman’s bright yellow backpack, tossing it over to Kenny with a slight scowl. He caught it and pulled the straps over his shoulder so he had a backpack in both the front and back.
“Sorry about interrupting your class, Miss. I was just trying to make sure he didn’t pass out and break open his fat skull.” Kenny offered her a small smile but she looked just as pissed as before, if not more so. Kenny wondered how she could still be PHSing at her age.
“I understand that you were worried for your friend’s safety but I ask that next time, you talk to me first before you decide to run out of my classroom Mr. McCormick. I am required to know where my students are at all times.” She craned her neck to look past Kenny, her thin brows raising on her forehead. “Where is Eric? He’s alright, I hope?”
“He’s fine. Ate a bad egg this morning.” Kenny rocked on his heels nervously. “Thanks for the bag, miss.” He raised his hand in a court farewell before jogging back to the bathroom, not looking back to see if his teacher had reciprocated his little gesture. Frankly, he was trying to get out of there before she changed her mind and decided to write his ass up for real. She was notoriously trigger-happy with her referrals and he wasn’t really looking forward to explaining to his parents why he shouldn’t be grounded for the week all because of Cartman and his weak stomach.
Kenny popped his head into the bathroom stall and dropped the backpack on the floor so it was leaning against the wall. Cartman was standing in front of the sink with his mittens pulled off and stuffed into the pockets of his coat. The bright yellow thread could still be seen poking out amongst the sea of blood-red polyester. He had just finished washing his hands, judging by the dark steaks on the sides of his cargo pants and the water droplets congregated at the bottom of the mirror. His face was blank as he stared at the backpack and then at Kenny.
The blonde wanted to complain, demand a thank you or a favor, but he knew from years of experience that it wouldn’t do much good to demand anything from Cartman. You didn’t do anything for that fat bastard with the expectation of getting anything in return unless you were a damn fool. Kenny gave his friend a little wave and hurried out of the bathroom as fast as his legs would take him.
He didn’t bother commenting on the fresh vomit dribbling down Cartman’s chin, or the way the stall stunk to high hell, because he didn’t care. He had done all he was obligated to do morally, and he would go about his day pretending as though nothing had ever happened.
That was all anybody was ever good at anyway.
-
When Eric Cartman didn’t come to the rest of his classes, Kenny, true to his word, ignored it. When the fatass didn’t come to school the next day? Kenny swept it under the rug. It wasn’t his problem, he told himself. And it wasn’t, not really. He wasn’t in control of what Cartman did or didn’t do. No one was, except Eric himself.
So maybe when Cartman didn’t show up for the next three days at school, he didn’t mention it, or drop by the fat boy’s house, or ask Kyle or Stan if they’d seen him. And maybe he waited until Burger King day to pay his chubby little friend a visit, Karen in hand as he walked up to Cartman’s doorstep and rang his doorbell.
And maybe when Liane answered and let them inside while she went to grab Cartman, Kenny sat down on their couch while Karen fiddled with the Nintendo gaming system he’d bought her for her birthday. She didn’t bother looking up when Liane came downstairs and told them that Eric wasn’t feeling well. The woman handed them a small card she’d had tucked under her arm, a Burger King gift card with $11.24 written on it with a black sharpie. Exactly enough for a chicken sandwich meal with a chocolate shake (including tax). Karen’s order.
Kenny looked up at Liane, scanning the face of the woman who had somehow birthed and raised the hellspawn that was Eric Cartman. Sure, they looked alike, soft jaws, big, brown cow eyes, sharp lips, dainty little upturned noses, but the two couldn’t act more different. Liane was always sweet when she was sober enough to know what was going on. A compassionate and understanding woman, Liane was pretty much a stock image omega if Kenny had ever seen one. Her maternal nature blinded her from all her son’s wrongdoings, and without an alfa or beta to put their foot down in the house, it wasn’t all that shocking Cartman would go unpunished despite his bullshit.
Not that every omega was like that, but some were, especially the soft ones, and Liane was nothing if not lenient.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Eric still isn’t feeling well.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips, smearing red lipstick in the corner of her mouth. “I’m afraid my Poopsikins caught a nasty bug at school. My poor baby had been getting sick every morning for the past few days. It’s a wonder he hasn’t lost his appetite yet.”
Kenny bit back a laugh, for Liane’s sake rather than Cartman’s. She seemed to be genuinely distressed over the whole thing. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Miss. Cartman. Me and Karen are sending our blessings for the little bugger.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ve been trying to get him to go to the doctor but he insists on staying in bed all day.” Liane fiddled with the hem of her sweater anxiously. Kenny wondered what it would be like to slip that loose blouse over her head. She didn’t have the biggest tits, but Kenny would bet good money they were perky as all hell. “Maybe you could talk him into it?” The brunette tilted her head hopefully, her big brown eyes boring into Kenny’s soul.
Kenny wanted to say “fuck no” right then and there, but with Liane looking at him like that, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to make his mouth say anything. Goddamn pretty women and their charms. Kenny pressed his lips together and sighed. “Alright. But you know how he is, prolly’ won’t listen to me.”
“Oh, but he adores you, Dear. It’s Butters this and Kenny that. You know he’s always talking about his friends.” Liane patted his head appreciatively, her smile wide enough to split her face in half. “You just run upstairs real quick. I’ll grab Karen here some warm cookies and milk while we wait.”
She turned to Karen who looked up from her video game, a smile growing on her face as well. “Can we watch Say Yes to the Dress, Miss. Cartman? Please?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Liane pressed a kiss to Karen’s temple, leaving a bright red stain. Kenny snickered and thumbed the lipstick away while Liane dashed into the kitchen to get the promised cookies and milk.
One thing he appreciated about Liane was how kind she was to Karen whenever Kenny brought her over. It wasn’t often, but when he did, Liane always made sure the pamper the girl by stuffing her full of snacks, letting her watch whatever she wanted on the television, and doing her hair and makeup. Liane even let Karen slip into some of her dresses and heels, giving Cartman and Kenny a fashion show that Cartman would critique accordingly.
Kenny was beginning to think that Karen was more of a Cartman than a McCormick. She meshed so well with both residents in the Cartman household but only ever got along with Kenny and very occasionally Kevin if the big guy was in a good mood. It was a damn shame that Cartman got to have a mom like Liane, a mother he surely didn’t deserve but somehow still managed to take for granted. Liane had some problems, sure, but besides her substance abuse issues, she was practically the ideal mother. Not that Cartman seemed to think so.
Kenny sat up and tossed Karen the remote to the television before slipping up the stairs to the fat boy’s bedroom. He didn’t even bother knocking, he just threw open the door to find Cartman lying with his back supported by a big pile of pillows behind him. He was holding an Xbox controller, although the game was already paused by the time Kenny had opened the door. The blonde was greeted with a lackluster “Get the fuck out of here, Kenny.” that he generously chose to ignore.
“Hey, fatass.” Kenny plopped down at the foot of Cartman’s bed and grabbed the cell phone that the brunette had resting beside him. His messages with Butters were open, but Kenny couldn’t read any of them before the phone was quickly snatched out of his hand.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you poor piece of shit?” Cartman threw his controller at Kenny’s head, an attack that was narrowly dodged thanks to a quick duck on Kenny’s part.
“Woah. Is it that time of the month again, Fartman?” Kenny snickered as Cartman sent an empty box of Cheesy Puffs flying toward him, this time hitting him right in the nose.
“Kill yourself.” The fat boy hissed through bared teeth, his cell phone in a vice grip. Yep. It was definitely that time of the month. Kenny didn’t keep track of his friend’s heat cycles or whatnot, but it seemed that Cartman was PHSing, not that Kenny could smell it on him. But wouldn’t Liane have noticed that? Maybe she hadn’t wanted to mention it. She’d never been shy about airing out Cartman’s shit before, though.
Ultimately, Kenny decided not to dwell on it. He was more concerned with getting out of there so he could get Karen some Burger King before bed. It was already getting late. Kenny looked out Cartman’s window for confirmation but the curtains were pulled shut to block out any incoming natural light. Cartman was living like a fucking vampire, it seemed. Gee, maybe he was beginning to look the part too. Kenny squinted, trying to make out Cartman’s features through the dim lighting provided by just the television screen.
He seemed normal upon first glance, however Kenny noted the way his once pristine locks were now a messy mop on his head, ruffled up towards the back from rubbing up against his pillows. Cartman didn’t stink, surprising considering it looked like he hadn’t showered in the three days he’d been gone. His skin was oily and pale, with big, dark bags under his eyes.
The eye bags weren’t all that unusual, Cartman had horrible bags since he was a kid, but these seemed much worse, as if he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in days. Kenny wondered, for a split second, if Cartman was really sick. Like… really, really sick. He looked like something you would see in an open casket.
“Cartman.” Kenny breathed, trying not to sound as freaked out as he was beginning to feel. “You alright, dude?”
The brunette looked surprised for a split second, as if he didn’t expect Kenny to care how he was doing. Cartman figured the poor bastard would be more concerned with haggling him for more money rather than giving a shit about his health. It was just like Kenny to pretend to care how you were doing, though. He always wanted to have that moral high ground like fucking Kyle. Unlike Kyle, however, Cartman didn’t mind telling Kenny when he wasn’t feeling his best. Kenny wouldn’t use his temporary physical disadvantage against him like that filthy Jew.
Cartman folded his hands over his lap, making sure to keep his phone out of nabbing distance. “You know, if you really cared, you would have called me. Or at least texted. I haven’t heard a thing from you since Tuesday.”
“I don’t really care.” Kenny shrugged. At least he was honest about his indifference. Cartman figured he preferred that to Kenny lying straight to his face. It still kind of hurt to hear from his best friend, though. A little. “You just look dead.” Kenny pointed to his face, his skinny finger brushing past the tip of Cartman’s nose as he drew a circle in the air.
Cartman slapped his hand away and scowled. “I guess you’re in here because my mom wanted you to tell me to go to the doctor?”
“You were listening?”
“I have my entire house bugged, dumbass. The kitchen, bathrooms, living room, garage; I hear and see everything.”
Kenny blinked slowly, his gaze traveling around Cartman’s bedroom in search of poorly disguised cameras or microphones. “Does your mom know?”
“She’s gotten her brains fucked out in front of me more times than I can even remember, Ken. Probably because a quarter of the time it was before I could actually form memories.” Cartman tilted his head and smiled sweetly, the corners of his lips twitching in agitation. “I assure you that she does not mind.”
Kenny didn’t know how to respond to that, nor did he want to start a conversation around Liane getting freaky in front of her son. That would open up one too many doors that he’d prefer stay closed. “Well, are you going to the doctor or not, fatass?” He offered, trying to steer the conversation in a less disturbing direction.
If Cartman wanted to talk more about his childhood ails, he would have to do it with his butt buddy, Stotch. Kenny was on the clock.
Thankfully though, the fat boy didn’t seem to care about the shift. He just went back to bitching about how the American healthcare system was a complete scam designed by none other than the Jews to raid the pockets of innocent taxpayers. How the fat fuck somehow managed to bring Jewish people into their conversation about going to the doctor for a tummy ache was beyond Kenny.
He did know, however, that something was up with the fatass if he didn’t want to go to the doctor. He never had a problem running to the nurse the second he got the tiniest little bump or scrape at school, or begging his mom to stay home from school to take him to the ER because his shit was a shade off or something stupid like that.
The only reason he wouldn’t want to go to the doctor was if there was something he didn’t want the doctor to find out about. Maybe he’d taken something he wasn’t supposed to and it’d fucked him up? It was possible, but it wasn’t like the effects of an overdose would last for more than a day or two if that were the case. Kenny stared Cartman down, trying to feel out what was going on with him.
He was trying hard not to care, but that was kind of difficult when the fat bastard was just sitting there looking like a corpse. Plus, Kenny couldn’t help the fact that he was naturally curious. Of course, he’d want to know what was going on. It was human nature to be nosey and all up in other people’s business.
The blonde picked some dirt out from underneath his nail and sighed. “So… for real, why don’t you want to go?”
“I just explained it to you. Are you too fucking poor to pay some goddamn attention or what?” Cartman snapped. Kenny graciously decided not to punch him in the face for it.
“You know I’m not going to buy that ‘down with the government’ bullshit. I want you to tell me what’s really going on.”
The fat boy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Jesus, the first time Kenny actually wanted the fat fuck to open his mouth and he was playing the quiet game. Fine. Kenny licked his chapped lips and sighed. “You know I won’t tell anyone, Cartman. You can trust me.”
“You can trust that I’ll shove my foot up your ass if you don’t get the hell out of here, Kenny. I’m not fucking around with you anymore.” Cartman looked his friend straight in the eye. Weirdly, Cartman looked totally blank, not angry like he should look. Normally his stupid brows would be furrowed, and his girly little nose would be scrunched up like he’d just smelt something rancid. That’s how it always was, but now he just looked… glazed, like he didn’t feel a damn thing.
Kenny shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling very off-put. “Dude, chill. I’m just-“
“What part of ‘get out’ don’t you understand?” Cartman cocked his head to the side, his eyes never leaving Kenny’s. “Get the fuck out of here. I gave you your fucking charity. Now leave me alone.”
“Cartman-“
“Get. Out.”
Kenny scoffed and slid off the bed. He didn’t understand why Cartman was being such a bitch, but he’d be damned if he was going to sit here and take his bullshit lying down. The fat fuck was right. Kenny had gotten what he’d come for anyway. He threw open Cartman’s bedroom door, giving one last insouciant look to his bedridden friend before strolling back down the hallway.
Kenny ran his fingers through his oily blonde hair. He figured Cartman would talk about whatever was on his mind whenever he was ready, or even better, Kenny ought to just let the whole thing go. It was just… weird. Something about the situation rubbed him the wrong way. It’d be easy to just push it to the back of his mind, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before with Cartman always up to some stupid crap, but the image of the fat bastard lying in his bed like a damn corpse rang an alarm somewhere in Kenny’s monkey brain that something wasn’t right.
Then again, it was Cartman. His stupid ass probably had just done something he wasn’t supposed to and gotten sick. Or maybe this was his karma after years of being a menace to society, finally come to knock him down a few pegs. Whatever it was, it was no skin off Kenny’s bones. No sir.
Kenny fiddled with the Burger King gift card in his coat pocket. All he had to worry about now was giving his little sister the best Burger King day of her life. Eric Cartman free.