Chapter 4, Hot Cocoa

White flakes were softly falling outside, blanketing the town with a glittering layer of snow in the fading twilight. It couldn't be more beautiful if the gods themselves above had handpainted a masterpiece using their heavenly brushes.

Eric Cartman, however, didn't care much for the snow. It was nasty, cold, and wet, and that was all snow was. He simply couldn't see the beauty in it. It was an annoyance to him; something he'd undoubtedly have to scrape off his driveway later unless he pressed his doting mother into doing it instead.

At the moment, Cartman was curled up in a blanket on his couch with his boyfriend. They were drinking hot cocoa and watching movies together, something they often did on snow days. Today, the special feature was Batman.

"Why does Robin dress like a little fag?" Cartman asked Kenny absently, yawning slightly as he snuggled up to him.

Kenny shrugged. "(I dunno. But Catwoman has a really fucking nice body...)"

Cartman glared up at him. These sort of comments were the norm for Kenny, but that didn't make them any less bothersome. "You would think that, you dirty slut."

Their relationship was a queer one. Literally. They were, presently, the only gay couple in South park, and had been together longer than any of their straight friends. The end of this month would mark their one-year anniversary. The chemistry worked. Kenny would always be making some sort of perverted or flirtatious comment, and Cartman would always call him names. But somehow, this never drove them apart. If anything, it had only worked to make the bond stronger.

Kenny only chuckled, raising his cocoa to the spot where his mouth would be hiding and unzipping his coat just enough to get a drink. As he was doing this, however, his fingers slipped and he spilled a considerable amount of the stuff down the front of his parka.

Cartman screeched. The cocoa had barely missed him.

As it wasn't extremely hot, the spill hadn't really hurt Kenny all that much, but he still growled, looking down at his accident in disgust. "Ugh, now what am I going to do? I think some of it got through... My shirt's wet, too."

"At least you didn't get it on the blanket," said Cartman carelessly. "This is my favorite blanket. It's fuzzy."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Hahah, funny, Eric. But no, seriously, what am I going to do? I can't just sit around your house shirtless."

"Sure you can," Cartman said. "No one's going to care. My question is why do you care? I've seen you shirtless plenty of times."

"I care because I don't have any other clothes with me," Kenny sighed. "And it's winter. I'll get cold."

"Alright alright," Cartman huffed. "You sound like an old bitchy lady. C'mon, just throw your shirt and jacket in the washer. You can wear one of my shirts until they're clean."

This sounded like as good an idea as any, and so Kenny agreed, letting Cartman show him to the washer. He stripped off his coat and shirt, throwing them inside. Shivering, Kenny crossed his arms over his bare chest. He felt considerably nakeder without his top garments; not that he really cared all that much.

Cartman gaped for a moment. Sure, he'd seen Kenny shirtless plenty of times, but it was still pretty rare, and always a treat. His eyes scanned from his touseled blonde hair, freckled face and blue eyes, to his pale, thin, lightly muscled torso.

"See something you like?" Kenny smirked.

Cartman furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, blushing a little. "N-No. Fuck you," he huffed.

"You would."

"Whatever... C'mon, let's go get you a shirt before I nosebleed and pass out."