Title: Less Than Three
Warning(s): Swearing XD
Summary: Wendy is finally ready to tell Cartman that she is infatuated with him. But of course Cartman will be Cartman, and Wendy will be Wendy, and this will lead to complications for Wendy during her confession.
Pairing(s) and Character(s): Wendy/Cartman
Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or any of the characters in it or in this fanfiction -- Matt Stone and Trey Parker do. And Danny's, the restaurant in this fic, is a parody of Denny's, which I don't own. XD It belongs to whoever created the Denny's restaurant o.o All I own is this fanfiction.
Author's Note: I hope you Wendy/Cartman fans will like this! And for those of you who don't know, "less than three" refers to that little sideways heart that people type on the Internet sometimes. XD You'll find out about the relevance of that if you read the story.
Leave a review if you like it! Now onto the fic xD
There are things you do sometimes that just make no sense. And the thing is, you know it doesn't make sense before you do it, but you absolutely have to do it anyway, regardless of how retarded the idea is or what the consequences of it might be.
That's how it was for Wendy Testaburger that time in sophomore year when Mr. Garrison, newly hired to teach the high school's World History class, established a weekend assignment and just happened to pair her with no one other than Eric Cartman.
And
it just happened that the black-haired sixteen-year-old beauty, no
more than two weeks prior, had developed a mammoth infatuation (a
one-sided infatuation to her knowledge, of course) on the
brown-haired sixteen-year-old fatass. She was baffled as to why
and how that had happened, and she never could figure out
the answer; all she knew was that she did in fact love Eric
Cartman, the overweight asshole who hated hippies and Jews and who
seemingly possesed no conscience or morals.
And
the thing that deeply irritated Wendy was that, although the fact that
she adored him like a preteen fangirl so obviously it was practically
written all over her face, Cartman didn't know. At least seventy-five
percent of South Park High School secretly knew she had a
crush on him -- it was as clear as day -- but Cartman himself didn't
know it. Truthfully, it kind of pissed Wendy off sometimes.
Mr.
Garrison's assignment for the two of them was to create a portfolio
on Roger Sherman, who introduced the Great Compromise to the Constitutional Convention after the Revolutionary War, and also the Virginia Plan and New Jersey Plan.
Wendy knew that Cartman, most likely, couldn't be able to care less
about the project, and so she prepared on doing most of the work
herself. Although Wendy dreaded that part of her weekend with
Cartman, there was one thing she did not dread about it. She
had a plan. It was one of those plans, of course, that just didn't
make sense. But she had to do it anyway, regardless of how
retarded it was and what the consequences would be because of it.
Wendy
was going to have Cartman read out loud a page of the portfolio that
Wendy had already written so that, supposedly, they could make sure
it was gramatically correct. Wendy's idea, however, was to have a
love note written on the page along with the historical stuff. It was
insanely corny, Wendy already knew, and she had no earthly idea as to
what Cartman's reaction would be to finding out that she had a
huge-ass crush on him. But, like it's been said before, she just had
to do it.
----
Wendy sat in a booth on Saturday morning by herself at Danny's, the restaurant in town where she and Cartman had agreed to meet to work on their portfolio. She had the paper beside her that harbored both the academic junk and, much more importantly, the love note.
Cartman showed up fifteen minutes later than the time they'd agreed on meeting. He entered the restaurant and found Wendy over in the corner, isolated from the rest of the diner, and sat in the seat across from her.
"Cartman! You're late," Wendy said to him when he sat down, trying to sound calm. Tardiness was one of Wendy's pet-peeves; just one of those things that irritated her so.
"Yeah, well, you can't rush a masterpiece," Cartman replied and handed Wendy a stack of paper. She took it and began leafing through the pages. After a few moments, Wendy looked up at Cartman -- trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach -- and smirked at him.
"Bill Clinton? Um, Cartman, we're supposed to doing a report on Roger Sherman."
Cartman gawked at her, confused. "Who's that?"
Wendy gave him a strange look. "What? Where were you all week in class? We've been studying Roger Sherman and the Great Compromise, not Bill Clinton."
Cartman simply wagged his hand in her direction, shrugging. "Bill Clinton, Roger Sherman, what's the difference? I thought I'd help you out on this portfolio crap, help write part of the essay. You know, copying and pasting isn't easy work," he said as he picked up a menu off the table.
Wendy felt a headache coming on. She couldn't believe that she had such a huge crush on someone who couldn't differentiate between someone in the 1770's and the 1990's. "Well, we can't use it for this. I guess we'll eat first, and then we'll get started."
"Hell yeah!" he replied, stopping a waitress as she walked by the table.
----
"Okay, I wrote this last night, just to kind of get a head start on this. I think we should read it out loud, so we can be sure there's no mistakes in it. I wrote it when I was really tired, after all," Wendy said, trying to appear nonchalant, although unquestionable anxiousness pressed into her mind and she felt a little bit queasy, knowing that Cartman was about to find out she loved him.
She slid the piece of paper into Cartman's hand, who was finishing up the last of his hamburger (with which he also had a salad, french fries, cole slaw, a small bag of Cheesy Poofs, and a cookie).
"You want me to read it?" Cartman asked disbelievingly.
"Yeah, just so we can check for grammar errors," Wendy replied nervously. No matter how retarded it is.
"Well okay, ho," Cartman retorted softly and looked down at the page. Wendy bit her bottom lip -- which was freshly coated with shiny pink lipgloss -- and looked away.
Cartman began reading aloud. "Roger Sherman was the Connecticut delegate who brought the idea of the Great Compromise to the Constitutional Convention. The Virginia Plan, which suggested that the United States government have a two-house legislature, was created by Edmund Randolph of Virginia. It was favored by the Federalists of the time."
Cartman paused for a moment and Wendy followed his eyes down the page. That had been where the report ended and the love message began. He started to read again. "Eric Cartman...you probably don't know it, but..."
Wendy's heart skipped two beats in a row. Her mouth went dry as she looked on, stopping her breath, waiting for Cartman to finish reading.
After only a few moments which felt like three years to the very uneasy Wendy, Cartman looked up and sat up straighter. His baffled expression caused Wendy to frown, her heart immediately sinking. Regardless of what the consequences of it might be.
"You... less than three me?" Cartman asked very slowly, puzzled and confused.
Wendy only stared, expressionless. She felt her left eye twitch a little bit.
When she didn't respond, Cartman went on, still wearing that very confused face. "What the hell is 'less than three' supposed to mean?"
Wendy jumped up abruptly in her seat, nearly losing her balance and falling out onto the restaurant floor. "Less than three?" she shrieked.
Cartman rolled his eyes -- it was another one of Wendy's infamous freak-outs.
"Less
than three! Goddamn it, Cartman! Have you never been to fucking
Myspace? Less than three. It's supposed to be a goddamn
heart!"
Wendy's
arms flew out very high above her head in complete frustration. She
ignored the fact that practically every single person in Danny's was
gawking at her and Cartman, whose face flushed an embarassed crimson.
She finally got her chance to show Cartman what was already so
fucking obvious and he was too stupid to fucking get it!
Wendy tried to calm herself down a tad when Cartman made a very deep, contemplative expression as if he were trying to remember something.
"So you..." his voice trailed off, a hint of confusion back on his face.
"Yes," Wendy replied slowly, calming down a tad. "I heart you. That's what less than three means.
I...
...love you, Cartman...
...I love you! I do!"
The more she had gone on, the more easily it had become to say it.
The crimson color dominated Cartman's face even more violently. He simply stared at her for a second or two. Eventually he gathered his voice, which came out soft and creaky. "Ho, you're not joking about this, are you? Because if you're just joking around I'm not gonna fall for it. I don't have time for stupid spoiled whores to mess around with --"
"It isn't a joke, Cartman. For real. I have no idea why, but...I just... I really like you. Really like you. And even though you make me really mad sometimes -- like confusing Bill Clinton with Roger Sherman, and beating me in essay contests because you cheated and getting to meet Kathy Lee Gifford, and just being a total butthole sometimes -- there's just something about you," Wendy said and slowly flashed a smile at the chubby teenager across from her.
Cartman paused for a moment, and then gave Wendy a smug look. "Well...I guess you're not so bad, either, ho..." He gave her an uneasy smile -- almost painful, like it had been a struggle for him to finish the sentence. "I... kind of less than three you, too, I guess," Cartman added, the same uneasy expression on his face. Wendy returned the smile.
----
On Monday they presented their portfolio to the class. Mr. Garrison gave them each a 90 for their project, mostly only because there were food stains on the papers, thanks to Cartman and his enormous meal at Denny's that previous Saturday morning. Wendy didn't care, though, and she still doesn't, because she loves Cartman, and Cartman loves Wendy.
Or, you could just say, they less than three each other.