AN: I got depressed, so I wrote a fluffy Kyman oneshot. Huzzah! Now we can all be happy. I'm still working on three other one shots (I'm lazy) and that monster of a project. So I'm pretty much still really busy. XP

So anyway. Here is fluff for your viewing pleasure.

I could never thank him enough for taking care of me the way he was. He was good to me, and I couldn't deny it; the moment he'd heard I'd been beaten up, he was there. He was asking what they looked like and what grade they were in. And when no answers were forthcoming from me, he dropped it and began to tend to my wounds. I couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend.

His fingers danced over my bruises and scrapes, light as a feather and yet still testing my reactions. In some places he put band-aids, in some he put peroxide, and some he put ice packs. He hummed as he worked, successfully lulling me into relaxation with the smooth sound of it. It was familiar – perhaps the melody of a new single. But as I thought of it, it reminded me of one of the flaws of our relationship. Or rather, of being with a person like him. The first sign of it was that he wasn't speaking. The reason?

Eric Cartman can't talk nice.

Ever since we'd first gotten together, he'd been gentle with me. He's always known that I've grown to be somewhat delicate. His touches were always tender, his kisses always soft, his hugs always only tight enough to keep me flush against his body. It was strange in a way… Cartman treating me as though the slightest bit of rough treatment would snap me in half. I adored it though. It was something I loved about him, something I wouldn't trade for the world. Of course, it made him reluctant with biting – which I do enjoy – but we got past that.

But despite his gentle caressing and light contact, he never, ever spoke kind words. Nothing that fit with his actions, anyway. The nicest thing he'd said to me that I could recall was "your hair looks really awesome, don't get it cut." And I'd followed his advice, and he'd been pleased, and then there was no more conversation on the matter. He couldn't bring himself to be kind to me verbally. I figured it out soon enough, and I knew better than to bring it up.

Until now, anyway.

I could only imagine what was going through his mind as he patched me up. He'd worked for months to be careful with me, and now some homophobic assholes had just come along and beat the living daylights out of me. I was in the very sort of pain he'd seemingly promised he'd never have me go through. And still, he didn't say a word. His eyes said so much, and yet the only thing that came from his lips was the occasional frustrated sigh when a band-aid got stuck to itself.

"Cartman?" I ventured carefully.

"What?" he replied gruffly as his calloused fingers glided over the large bruise on my cheek.

"What do you like about me?"

I felt his fingers go still, and for one terrifying moment, I almost thought he might press them into my bruise as punishment. It was silly thought, but certainly not beyond him, no matter how kind he'd been. His body radiated irritation, and I knew how he was when he got irritated. But then his fingers were gone, only to be replaced by a freezing ice pack.

I looked up a bit (I'd been staring downward), and I saw that he was looking directly at me. His eyes were narrowed, and he was looking at me like I'd voided some code of our relationship. In a way, I had. It was an unspoken rule that I was to accept his harsh words in exchange for his gentle touching. But I couldn't help it… we'd been together so long, and yet I'd never heard of why. Just before we started he'd mentioned that he found me attractive. But what about now?

"I dunno," he said eventually, his voice slow and cold as usual. "You look like a girl, that's pretty cool." He used his free hand to grab one of my own, and I got the hint and held the ice pack to my face as he moved to inspect my other hand, which had a swollen and most likely sprained wrist.

"That can't be all," I said firmly. "C'mon, Cartman. What do you really like about me?"

"Do you wanna know what I hate?" he snapped sharply as his fingers carefully brushed over my wrist. "Your big fucking Jew nose. It gets into everything. Now mind your own damned business and hold still."

His words stung. He was usually just as mocking and sarcastic as he used to be, but cruelty… was a bit less rare. I knew I'd hit a nerve, and I knew he didn't want me asking, and it was my fault for getting into it… but it still hurt. I shrank away from him a bit, and he tightened his fingers around my wrist to keep me still.

I yelped in pain and yanked my arm from him as pain shot through it, the ice pack I'd been holding falling onto my bed. I heard Cartman gasp, but I didn't look up to see him as I cradled my injured wrist. It throbbed painfully, and I could see the faint marks of where he'd grabbed me. I was certainly fragile, and he was certainly strong. I felt a cold flash of fear run through me at the thought. He could hurt me if he wanted – and I'd just made him mad.

Then I felt his lips on my forehead, tender and affectionate. I looked up for only a moment, and I saw an apology in his eyes even as he furrowed his brows and frowned.

"Let me see your wrist, Kyle," he said impatiently.

"You hurt me," I whimpered pathetically in reply. Perhaps I'd softened too much in the time we'd been together… his treatment was so caring that I allowed my animosity to all fade away. Yelling at him, or even getting very angry at all, was hard.

Cartman reached out, and I felt his gentle fingers against my wrist. I jerked back and I heard him sigh angrily.

"Kyle, please, I'm trying to help you."

"You hurt me, Cartman!"

"I'm sorry."

My eyes widened, and I stared at him in shock. He looked back evenly, but I could see the discomfort growing in his expression. If there was one thing Eric Cartman hated, it was apologies.

"You… you are?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes," he said, and I heard his voice quaver as he struggled to keep it even. I was in awe over his restraint… and he was doing it for me. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You know how I am… I never want to hurt you. Now please let me see your wrist."

His voice almost seemed insincere with all the shaking and thinly veiled anger, but… I could see the regret in his eyes, and I could see the faint blush on his face. He did mean it. I knew he didn't want to hurt me, but… never had he said it aloud. I carefully extended my arm, and he took my hand in both of his and gave the back a kiss before he resumed examining my sprain.

I could feel my insides melting because of that simple display of affection. It meant so much more than it would seem…

Cartman picked up the ice pack I'd dropped and placed it over my wrist. When it was in place, he leaned up to give me a kiss, and I returned it eagerly. It was so stupid how I could be bent to his will after only a few kisses and words… but his sincerity, coupled with the rarity of such displays from him, made each instance worth so much more than I could ever return.

"Do you feel better?" he asked as he parted, and he actually sounded concerned. My heart swelled in my chest at the sound. He really did care…

"Yes," I replied with a faint smile. "I do. I feel much better. The wounds still hurt a bit, but… you make everything feel better, Cartman. You always do."

The look of his face went from caring to mortified in a second, and I had to resist the urge to start laughing. We never exchanged corny banter like that. For a moment, it seemed like he might move away from me and run off to avoid any more. But then he relaxed, despite still wearing that expression of horror.

"Er, yeah…" he muttered as he looked away. "Okay. Glad to hear that."

"You wanna know what I like about you?" I asked softly. "Will that get you to answer my question?"

He was staring at me again, eyes wide and mouth partially open. Shock. I took it as an initiative to go on.

"I love how gentle you are with me," I began. "I love how careful your fingers are, how restrained your hugs can be, how careful you are with my body. It seems a little silly, but it makes me feel good because you seem to really respect what a little weakling I am." I laughed. "I love knowing my boyfriend cares about that sort of thing."

Cartman continued to stare for a moment or two, and then he was closely inspecting a cut on my shin that he'd treated a while ago. I waited patiently for any sort of answer, though deep down, I expected none. On an impulse I reached up to pet his hair, hoping it might get him going, but he remained silent.

His hair was so soft…

"To tell you the truth," he murmured suddenly, "I really like how… how delicate you are."

I blinked in surprise and pulled my hand away from his hair. He continued to stare down, refusing to meet my eyes.

"I know it's stupid to like something like that," he went on, "but it… it gives me a sense of importance, I guess. I'm important because I get to care for this fragile little thing that… totally trusts me. I'm important because I get to protect you." I heard him take a deep breath. "One of the reasons I got with you in the first place was because I knew you needed a… a shield, I guess… Didn't think you'd actually say yes, though…"

When I was able to process all of that, I felt absolutely delighted to hear it. Never had Cartman opened up in such a way! It was a completely new level to our relationship, a newly opened door that would take us so far… I was about to inform him that I said yes because I thought he was attractive when he added one last part.

"Now… can we please, please stop talking about it? I'm miles outside of my comfort zone."

I found myself laughing at that, and Cartman looked up at me. He looked angry, and he was blushing, and it was so adorable that I just laughed harder. Him being adorable is… foreign, really.

"Of course, Cartman," I said as I got a hold of myself. "That's all I needed to hear anyway. Thank you."

I leaned down to kiss him, and after a moment, he returned it happily. My wounds didn't even seem to bother me now… I felt too ecstatic with what I'd been told and where I felt we'd gone together.

So maybe he isn't good with talking nice, but Eric Cartman is still the best boyfriend in the whole wide world.

AN: Didja like it? I sure hope you did. Now here's an idea: if you liked it, maybe you can review! And, you know, tell me what you liked! Or what you didn't like, s'all the same.

Until next time, my fellow Kyman fans, I bid you adieu! *flies away*