Story: Maybe

Author: nblg6

Pairing: mostly Kyle/Cartman

Rating: M

Summary: "…and maybe, just maybe, I was falling in love with Cartman. With that in mind, I made my decision."

Author's notes: Just a new thing I'm working on, I hope you like it!

"Are you serious?" I licked my chapped lips, shoving a handful of Cheesy Poofs down my throat, as if that would help me forget all this crazy shit, or perhaps just choke me. That'd be equally helpful.

"It'll be fun, Kyle." Stan whispered, ignoring my question while Cartman snored and snuggled down on his sleeping bag. I rolled my eyes. "Think about it, dude. Just the four of us, discovering the world the way we're supposed to: with beer and no parents. It'll be fucking awesome, Kyle." I tuned out to eye the room. Kenny was passed out on the carpet; Stan was sitting on the edge of the couch, crushing my foot slightly; Cartman was asleep for about half an hour, and there was me, lying on the couch, wondering how my life got here.

It was the summer before college. We'd graduated from high school four hours ago. It was over, all the torture and drama of it, it was gone. Now all I had was college and then responsibilities.

I buried my face down on the bolster, sucking on huge breaths of air.

"Honestly? I'd rather fit a shoe down my throat then spend a summer with Eric Cartman, of all people. Besides, my mom would never let me go on a goddamn road trip. I'm out, sorry man."

Stan dropped his hands on his sides, sighing protractedly. "We don't want to go without you, Kyle!" he cried out, pinching his nose.

"I'll tell you what, ask Butters to go on my place." I chimed in, a little distracted from out conversation. Cartman mumbled something and rolled a good two feet to the left.

"Okay, whatever. I'm going to sleep." He said, pulling his sister's bed's mattress to rest on the empty corner of the living room. "But just…think about it, dude. A road trip, to get to know the world. What's so wrong about it?" Stan fell to the mattress, the blanket barely covering his feet.

I couldn't help but think this whole idea was somewhat gay. No, scratch that, it was completely gay.

Being gay wasn't exactly a problem for me, since I found out I liked boys when I was twelve or so, but I still couldn't come out. So yeah, it sucked to be trapped on this town, hiding who I am, and obviously unable to hook up with anyone, because of course people would know if I went around fucking everything that moves, like Kenny does.

And I knew for a fact I was the only gay around besides Mr. Garrison, whom I had no interest on tapping, whatsoever.

Wow. It's amazing how time flies. Last time I checked it was nine o'clock, and then suddenly it was a quarter past midnight. I saw Cartman stretch with the corner of my eye, his biceps wrapped tightly inside his Terrance and Phillip t-shirt. His muscles were almost tearing his shirt's sleeve's up, which was kind of ridiculous.

I guess I still wasn't over the fact that the fatass is now a…hot fatass.

Seriously.

He was tired of being called fat, so he started to take swimming classes when we were fourteen. Then he started playing basketball. Then soccer. Then fucking volleyball.

But he was still fat, of course, only the fat was now spread all over his body, mostly concentrated on his belly, but you can't exactly call him thin. Nope. He's big.

Why was I thinking about fucking Cartman? I should be sleeping.

I got up and dizzily made my way towards the kitchen, my instincts sort of guiding me. It had been a while since I went to Stan's house and even though not much had changed, there were a few new pieces of furniture and a coffee table pushed a little to the right.

I swerved the obstacles and was soon enough standing in front of the fridge. I swiftly grabbed the milk box and poured some of it inside an Iron Man cup. I turned on the microwave and waited for my milk to warm up.

Weird, I know. It just helps me fall asleep.

"Trouble sleeping, Jew?" Cartman's voice snapped me back to reality, his words echoing through the empty kitchen, mixed in with the annoying sound of an old microwave.

"None of your business, fatass." I leaned back against the sink, my elbows weakly supporting me.

"I'm not fat." Cartman said back, his fingers fidgeting the waistband of his shorts. I gulped.

"Whatever, I'm just here to get my milk." He looked at me pointedly, the weight of what I just said crushing me like a ton of bricks. "Whatever." I repeated. He came closer.

"So, I couldn't help but listen to you talking to your boyfriend…why are you being such a pussy?"

"What are you talking about, asshole? I just don't want to be trapped inside a stinky truck with you guys during two months and a half." Cartman stepped closer, his arm almost touching mine. I felt a rising heat within me, probably from the microwave. Sure…

"So instead of going with us, you're going to seat on your couch and play Halo your whole vacation? Awesome plan." That hit me. That was exactly what I planned on doing, and in my mind, it sounded a lot better than when it came out of his mouth.

"Alright, give me three good reasons why I should come to this stupid road trip." Cartman bit the insides of his cheeks before finally speaking, his words inaudible due to the beeping sound of the microwave.

"Holy shit, Kyle. Turn this thing off or you're going to wake Stan's bitch sister up." I quickly pressed the button stop. Cartman reached over me and pressed the numbers 6 and 0, making my milk warm up for another minute. "Well, you want three reasons, right?" I nodded. "One: Stan. Two: Kenny. Three: me." He said simply.

"Hah, I said three good reasons, fat hole. You're definitely not good."

"You over think everything, Kahl." He said, moving closer to me. "You just have to loosen up a little. This road trip is everything we need: you get to run away from your family, get to drive for the first time, get to tap some ass from different states, it's like a blessing." I had to laugh at that. If he only knew how hard I ached for an ass to tap. "And the best part…" he stepped closer, his hot breath tickling my bruised lips. "You get to get away from South Park."

I breathed heavily as I leaned on Cartman, all of last year's emotions shot back in my brain. The moment I closed my eyes, the goddamn microwave beeped again, smoke coming out of it. My milk was probably to the point of evaporating now, but I couldn't care less.

"See?" Cartman asked, backing up and almost tripping over his own foot. I happened to find the scene quite amusing, but kept it to myself. Cartman blushed as I sighed, taking my cup with both hands. "Those were four reasons. Think about it…" I smiled softly, ignoring my burning fingerprints.

He disappeared among shadows, leaving me behind with a fucked up smile on my face.

I threw the milk inside the sink, sighing as its smoke hit my face.

I made my way back to the couch, lying down and pulling the blanket up my neck.

Maybe Cartman was right.

Maybe I did have to loosen up a little, open myself for consequences.

Maybe this road trip was all I needed.

…and maybe, just maybe, I was falling in love with Cartman. With that in mind, I made my decision.