A/N: Okay, so I haven't written in such a long time. I still have stories I haven't finished yet, but I wanted to have a go at a different type of writing style. I hope it doesn't completely suck. I know that when I write, the first chapter or first couple of chapters, aren't as great as the rest. I sort of have to get into a flow. I hope you enjoy it though!

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. All rights belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

What Are We Then?

High school will always be a building of horror. Any outcast or freak could tell you that. It's a building of oppression and cruelty. The sad thing is, not always by the students. High school just sucks, and the only people who enjoy going are the popular kids.

Nothing really had changed for the Goth Kids who sat behind South Park Elementary School. They had matured though, they weren't so much 'downers' anymore, and they tried a little harder in school, just so they didn't fuck up their entire lives.

Due to such an age gap, Firkle was still stuck in Middle School, alone. They hated it, but the senseless school system liked to fuck around. Students change to so many different schools, that it's no wonder they're all falling behind.

It was just after lunch and Michael and Henrietta were sitting behind the High School gym, smoking. That hadn't changed; they just didn't skip so often.

"Where the fuck is Pete?"

Michael shrugged at Henrietta's question. "Who knows?"

She frowned, "You're his boyfriend."

Michael rolled his eyes, "No, I'm not, and even I were his "boyfriend"," he quoted with his fingers, cigarette in one hand. "I wouldn't need to know where he is every second of my life, that Henrietta is a dictatorial personality."

"True", Henrietta said, exhaling nicotine smoke slowly, "It's almost borderline abusive."

Michael shook his head, "No, it IS, abusive. It's psychological abuse, controlling your partners' life like a frigging dictator.

Henrietta pulled out her notebook. "Why is it we always talk about this shit?"

Michael shrugged and inhaled his cigarette deeply. "Boredom."

"True."

Pete walked over slowly, sluggish, and dropped his shoulder bag on the ground. "Hey."

Michael frowned, "You look like shit."

Pete rolled his eyes, "Thank you Michael, you've always been so straightforward and sincere."

Henrietta chuckled, "Oh Michael, our little unfeigned idiot."

Michael smirked and gave her the finger, in which Henrietta replied back with the same gesture.

Pete was too distracted and leant against the back of the gym and groaned.

"So what the hell's wrong?" Henrietta asked, frowning. "You were fine this morning."

"I ate lunch at the cafeteria."

"Oh shit"! Henrietta joked, "You're fucked then!"

Pete faked a sarcastic laugh and shook his head. "No, they had mac n cheese."

Michael slid across next to Pete, and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Why the fuck would you eat that? You're lactose intolerant!"

"No shit, captain obvious, I'm aware of my debilitating condition." Pete held his stomach and groaned again. "I was flippin hungry! We've had no money for food and I was desperate to eat something."

Michael sighed. "Why didn't you say something? We would of given you money or shared our lunch".

"Because I don't beg, Michael."

Henrietta rolled her eyes at Pete's idiocy. "We're your friends, dumb ass."

Michael agreed, "She's right, and now you're going to be really sick for the rest of the day."

Pete held his stomach and let his head drop softly on to Michaels shoulder. Henrietta smirked, "Not dating, huh?"

In frustration, Michael sighed, "Shut up Henrietta! We're not dating."

"Whatever, you guys fuck, so that's close enough."

"Ah, Jesus Christ guys, shut the hell up!" Pete was trying to ignore the nausea that made him feel like his whole digestive system was trying to explode out of his mouth.

Michael stood up, and pulled Pete up with him, "I'll drive you back to my place. You can't stay at school like this."

Just standing up was agonising for Pete, and he tried to breathe through the pain. They walked slowly to the school parking lot, Henrietta saying her goodbyes, complaining about some compulsory test she had to go do, and Michael drove Pete and himself out of the school grounds.

Pete looked awful, his skin was paler than usual, and he couldn't hold his head up without feeling lightheaded from the nausea.

"If you feel like you're going to be sick, there's a plastic bag in the glove compartment." Michael gestured to it with his head, watching the road.

Of course it was snowing in South Park, and because of that, there weren't many on the road, especially at this time of the day, but Michael was cautious.

Pete pulled the plastic bag out of the glove compartment and groaned. "I don't particularly want to puke in front of you, I assume it would be a huge turn off."

Michael smirked slightly, still watching the road. "I've seen you puke before."

"Yeah, but not since we started having sex!"

Michael chuckled at himself. Ever since him and Pete started sleeping together, he had noticed that Pete got a lot more self-conscious around him. He'd try a bit harder to look nice every morning; he'd get embarrassed at things that he usually wouldn't get embarrassed about. It was clear to Michael that Pete had feelings for him, he wasn't oblivious to that, but he was never sure about relationships; too much work.

Pete closed his eyes, trying to ignore the moving car. It had felt like all his senses had turned on at once, and were set to overload. His stomach was not happy with him and he could feel the contents of his stomach making its way up. Pete tried to breathe through it, but he knew it wasn't going to let him fight. "Oh fuck."

He leant into the bag and allowed the heinous mac n cheese to come back up. It was violent too, as it always was when it came to his lactose intolerance. He groaned as it kept coming, trying to ignore the obvious fact that Michael was next to him.

Michael pulled over, hoping that if he stopped moving, Petes' stomach might calm down. He rubbed his back gently, pulling his hair back out of Petes face.

"You okay?"

His voice was so soft, and sincere; almost calming, and Pete focused on how Michael rubbed his back. It was so comforting, and he was grateful that he had held his hair back too. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, just taking in the calmness of the car. Pete had worried about it being embarrassing, or awkward, but it wasn't. It was, nice.

"I-I'm okay, for now. Th-thanks."

Michael smiled slightly. "Just throw the bag in the bush, who cares."

Pete chuckled softly and did, trying not to think about animals finding it a glorious feast later on.

It didn't take long for them to reach Michaels house. They made their way up to Michael's bedroom and closed the door.

"Just, lay down in my bed, it's fine."

Pete hesitantly lay down; he'd never really been in Michael's bed, except for when they had sex, and even then it was usually so desperate that they kind of just fell on top of the blankets.

"Can-Can I get into the covers?"

Michael removed his jacket and raised an eyebrow at Pete. "Yes? Why wouldn't I let you?"

"Well, I've never really, been in bed with you here. Only ever at Hens".

Michael tilted his head in thought and played with his ring on his finger, something he often did when he thought about something, or tried to remember something. "Yeah, I guess you haven't," he smiled, "But it's just a bed, Pete."

Pete got under the covers and tried to hide a smile. It smelt just like Michael, and he felt completely comforted by every piece of fabric on the bed.

Michael removed his shoes and sat at this desk, turning his chair to face Pete. "Do you need a bucket or something?"

Pete bit his lip; he really didn't want to be an inconvenience, "I guess, just in case. Hopefully I'll be fine though."

Michael left the room and returned rather quickly with one and placed it beside the bed.

"Just rest, I'll get started on his history paper."

Pete softly smiled as Michael turned to face his computer, and cuddled deep into the blankets. It didn't take long for him to drift off to sleep.

Pete awoke to darkness, except for the shine of a computer screen in the corner of the room. Michael was sitting at the desk, typing quietly, completely focused on whatever it is he was doing.

Pete sat up slowly, feeling a lot better than before and smiled over at him. Michael was always good looking to Pete, even if Michael didn't see it for himself. His curls hung down just right, slightly over his face, but enough to see his piercing blue eyes. He was skinny, pale, and always smelt of vanilla mixed with coffee and tobacco. Michael was always great with his fashion choices too, everything he wore- he wore well, and it made Pete gush over him like a preppy cheerleader in love with the quarterback. Pete hated that he let himself fall in love, especially to Michael. Michael was an incredible human being, but he lacked a lot of emotion. He was withdrawn from that sort of thing and Pete knew it was fruitless trying to become anything more than a fuck buddy.

"Sleep well"?

Pete jumped at Michaels voice. His eyes were still focused on the screen, but he must of been able to see Pete through the corner of his eyes.

"Y-Yeah, thanks." Pete looked around the room and then out the window to the darkened street. "What the hell is the time?

Michaels eyes wandered to the top of this computer screen for only a second. "Seven Thirty."

"Jesus!" Pete stood up and ran towards Michael to see for himself. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Michael typed 'Ctrl S' to save, and twirled around on his chair to face Pete. "You looked comfortable, and you were pretty sound."

Pete fought back a smile and cleared his throat. "Uh, get much done then?"

"Yeah, loads actually. You being sick really saved me from my not so productive social life." Michael smirked and Pete let out a small laugh. "You hungry? You threw up whatever you had in your stomach, so I'm guessing you are."

Michael stood up and wrapped his jacket around him. "Village Inn?"

Pete nodded his head and quickly put his shoes and coat on. He followed Michael down the stairs and out the front door, greeted by the numbing night air.

"Fuck, you'd think I'd get used to this after all these years of living here!" Pete cuddled himself as they got into Michaels car, and Michael immediately put the heater on. "You'd think so, but no," Michael replied.

They drove the short drive to Village Inn and hurried into the warmth of the diner. They took their usual booth and were greeted by the ignorant and intrusive waitress who had been bothering them for the past nine years.

"What do you kids want?" she asked in a disinterested tone, "let me guess, coffee"?

Michael rolled his eyes, "Oh it's lovely to see you again Irene, lower down the sarcasm and we might just behave."

Pete snickered under his breath and focused on the menu in front of him.

"Can it kid, order something, or shove off."

Michael sighed and picked up his menu, scanning it.

"I'll have the Golden-Fried Shrimp." He looked up at Pete, "What do you want?"

Pete shrugged, "I don't really have any money. I'll just get some fries."

Michael sighed. "Pay no attention to him, he'll have the All-World Double Cheeseburger, minus the cheese."

Pete frowned at Michael, "I'll pay, Pete, it's fine."

The waitress sighed, "And what do you want as your sides?"

"Fries," Michael replied handing her back the menus.

"Right, will be with you soon," She began to walk away when Michael called out to her, "Don't forget our coffee of course."

Pete laughed as the waitress glared and walked away mumbling to herself about 'disrespectful kids these days'.

"She's such a narcissistic, oppressive, bitch!" Michael said, shaking his head at Pete with a slight smile.

"Yeah," Pete agreed, "And we're the goths."

Michael laughed, joined in by Pete as the waitress came back with their coffee.

"Thank you Irene," Michael said as politely as he could.

"Whatever," she replied, walking off.

"I tried," he shrugged.

Pete smirked as he took his first sip of coffee. "Thanks for buying me dinner, Michael."

"It's fine, is your Mom having trouble finding work again?"

Pete put down his mug and sighed. He played with the salt and pepper shakers in front of him, too ashamed to make eye contact with Michael. "Yeah, she is. I'm trying really hard to find a job but no one wants to hire a trailer trash."

"You're not trash, Pete," Michael frowned, "I hate it when you call yourself that."

Pete shrugged, "They think I am. Every place I've been to have rejected my application, even the gas station."

Michael watched Pete, studying him. He could see how depressed this was making him and he couldn't stand to see Pete so miserable. "Has your Mom applied for food stamps?"

"No," Pete rolled the salt backwards and forwards on its side, "she's too proud, I guess."

Michael frowned, "So she'd rather let you go without food?"

Pete looked up at him briefly and then back at the salt, "I guess," he shrugged.

The waitress came back with their food and placed it down for them. "Enjoy," she said sarcastically.

Pete looked at his meal and smiled, taking in the scent. He hadn't eaten a decent meal in weeks and when he took his first bite of a french fry it was heavenly.

Michael watched, taking bites himself, "Maybe I can get you a job at sizzler with me?"

Pete looked up and tilted his head to the side, "Really? You could do that?"

Michael shrugged, "I can try," he took a bite of another french fry, "We don't need any more waiters, but we do need help in the back."

"Doing what?" Pete asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Oh, you know, washing, stocking, that kinda thing. It's not much, but it's money." Michael took a bite of his shrimp and smiled softly.

"Yeah, I'd take whatever I can get."

Michael nodded his head, "I'll talk to my manager, but I can't promise anything."

Pete smiled and picked up his burger, "I know, I'm just grateful that you're offering to help."

They finished their meals, Pete leaving nothing on his plate, as they sat drinking their coffee. Michael had his notebook out and was writing, while Pete just sat twirling his finger around the rim of his mug.

"Michael?"

Michael looked up from his notebook, "Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about the future?"

Michael closed his book and raised an eyebrow, "Like, career wise? Or?"

"No, just, the future." Pete looked down and played with his lip ring with his tongue. "Just, where we'll be, who'll we'll become, that kinda shit."

"Well.." Michael sighed and rested his chin on his hand, "I guess, sometimes."

Pete looked up and bit his lip, "Do you ever think about relationships?"

Michael frowned and blew his fringe out of his face, "Like, dating?"

Pete nodded and looked down at his mug, starting to regret starting this conversation.

"Well, not really. You know how I feel about that shit." Michael picked up his coffee, taking a sip but still keeping his eyes locked on Pete.

"So, you just gonna fuck who ever you feel like fucking, and thats it?" Pete didn't mean to sound snappy, he hadn't planned to say it in that tone.

Michael sighed and put his mug down. "Pete, if us having sex is upsetting you, we can stop."

Pete frowned, "It's not upsetting me, it's just," he tapped his finger on the rim of his mug and bit his lip again, "Will we be, like this, in ten years? Twenty? Just fucking every couple of days, throwing our clothes back on and then off we go back home?"

Michael slumped back into the booth and raised an arm to rest on the back of the seat, "I don't know, I've never thought that far ahead."

Pete sighed, "Look, don't worry about it, I'm just so confused about my life right now. I don't know where it's going, or who's going to be in it." He looked as if he was going to cry, but held back.

Michael sat forward and frowned, "Woah, you think I won't be in your life? You think all of us are going to just fuck off and never talk again?"

Pete shrugged.

"Well, Pete, I'm not going to do that. Whether we fuck, or not, I'm going to always be around. And I think that goes for Firkle and Henrietta too."

Pete shook, taking deep breaths, trying not to break down, "I'm just scared," He looked up at Michael, tears filling his eyes, threatening to fall, "I don't know if it's worth going on half the time."

Michaels eyes widened and he sat up straight, "Don't talk like that! You're going to go somewhere, Pete. I'll be right there with you too."

Pete nodded his head and forced a smile, "I know, I'm sorry, Michael."

Michael watched Petes eyes and chewed on his thumb nail, something he often did when he was anxious or concerned, "Why don't we go? You can stay at my house tonight."

Pete smiled slightly, "yeah, alright."

They both stood up, Michael leaving money on the table and he drove them home.

A/N Alright, that's the first chapter. Sorry if it wasn't written well. I'm terrible with punctuation, but I'm trying to figure it all out. I'm still so shocked I passed high school.

Please let me know what you think of this story, I love reviews, they keep me motivated.