So even though they seem to be growing in number, I am of the firm opinion that there aren't enough cartman/wendy stories out there. So since I'm on such a big cartman/wendy kick right now (as anyone can see from the like 7 or 8 recent pics in my dA thing), I decided to write one! Yay! This was actually meant to be a sort of long oneshot, but then it got to be too long. So I chaptered it. There will only be three, so even though it's short, I still hope yall find it fun!

So mostly the story is from Wendy's POV (in third know, like how JKR does Harry Potter). So mostly wendy/cartman, slight kyle/stan. and of course kenny(or)bebe/everyone else! haha! I love those guys...!

EDIT: I went back and fixed a few grammatical errors and changed all the "Eric"s to "Cartman"s.

Chapter 1

It was a well known fact in South Park High that Eric Cartman was a jackass. Actually, it was well known fact through all of South Park that Eric Cartman was a jackass. It had become apparent very early on in the boy's life. Because of sixteen dollars and twelve cents, he had had two people killed. He was a racist. He was sarcastic. He was obnoxious. He was self-centered. Everyone knew it. Everyone accepted it. Everyone just let his rants pass them by. It was easier that way. If they just ignored him, he'd go bother someone else. If they didn't respond to his taunting or congratulated him when he rubbed his success in their faces, he would stop.

But that didn't make his words and actions any less infuriating.

That was why Wendy Testaburger had just overturned a desk. Yes, Wendy was quite used to hearing him call her every variation of the name "Hippie Bitch" under the sun, but it didn't make it any less irritating. Also, she was on her period. She had cramps. She was PMSing. She had five AP tests and the SAT II within the next two weeks. She was editor of the yearbook, and the next deadline was next week. She did not need to add Eric Cartman to the mix.

The entire classroom had gone silent. Everyone was staring at Wendy. She was standing in the middle of the room, glaring at Cartman with fire in her eyes. Several of the students around her had shrunk away. Tweek had actually jumped up and was hiding behind Craig. For his part, Cartman was just staring at her with a raised brow. "What died up your ass," he scoffed.

Wendy let out a shriek. "Cartman! You overbearing asshole!" she screamed.

"Listen, flower child," he continued, "all I'm saying is that feminists are just a bunch of house wife bitches on their periods who don't have anything better to do while their husbands are on some business trip banging some hot foreign chick. So they stick their tampons too far up their vaginas, and—"

"Sick, dude," Stan exclaimed, making a disgusted face. Several other boys looked to share his sentiments. The girls were just glaring.

Kyle was sitting sideways in his desk and glaring back at Cartman. He looked down his nose at the larger boy with a condescending look. "You have absolutely no tact, Cartman," he said. "You'd probably get ahead in life if you would shut up more."

It was interesting that in South Park the other students were usually the ones who tried to break up or settle classroom disturbances. The teacher was currently filing her nails.

"Shut the fuck up, Jew," Cartman snapped back. It should also be noted that teachers did not correct foul language or racial slurs. "You would stick with the hippie. You two brain fuck, after all."

Kyle's brows twitched. His green eyes darted over to Wendy. She was looking back at him with an exasperated expression. Could Cartman be any more ridiculous? Kyle and Wendy were certainly not fucking in any sense. Yes, they were study buddies, but Kyle was gay and quite open about it. Kyle was in no way attracted to Wendy, and the only love Wendy felt for Kyle was that of siblings.

"You are such a dumb fuck, Cartman," Kyle said with a roll of his eyes.

Cartman snorted. "Me? Try you and that pot smoking hippie—"

"I'm an environmentalist," Wendy screamed. "I hate smoking! The smell of weed makes me sick!" Cartman just turned his raised brow back to her. "It does, you jackass, and no, I didn't find that out because I was smoking it."

The shrill sound of the bell filled the classroom. "Get out of here, you little bastards," the teacher called out. Her cheerful goodbye did not faze any of the students. They were far to used to her behavior. Students flung backpacks over their shoulders and ran for the door. It was Friday, and they wanted out.

Wendy forcefully shoved her textbooks into her bag, her cheeks a rather alarming red. Kyle and Stan walked up to her overturned desk. Kyle placed a hand on her shoulder, and Stan righted the desk. "Don't let him get to you, Wends," he said in a comforting manner. Wendy let out a snort at the comment to show she was listening. Kyle just chuckled. "Are we still meeting up tomorrow?"

Wendy pushed her hair from her face as she looked up at him. She forced a smile to her face. "Yeah," she said. "Three at my house, right?"

Kyle nodded. "English or math?"

"Do you have to ask," Wendy asked with a smile. "Calculus is kicking my ass!"

At that moment, Cartman threw his backpack into place on his back and let out a booming laugh. "That is so fucking gay," he laughed loudly, walking out of the room.

Kyle and Wendy glared after him. Stan ran a hand nervously through his dark hair. "You know, in all honesty, I'd have to agree with Cartman on this one. Meeting on a Saturday afternoon to study?"

"Do you have six college prep tests starting on Monday, Stan," Kyle asked patiently. The redhead gave the other boy a look that was quite simply a silent reminder of the driving force in Kyle's astounding grades: Sheila Broflovski.

"Right," Stan said simply. Wendy laughed, and the three exited the school together. Wendy left the boys at Stan's truck and continued through the parking lot to her own car. She threw her bag into the back and settled into the driver's seat. She started to pull out of her parking spot only to nearly crash into Cartman. He honked loudly at her and flipped her off. She returned the favor and pulled out after him. She growled nastily. If Eric Cartman wasn't the most infuriating piece of shit in the world, she'd fail a test.

Wendy pulled into her driveway and slumped inside. Her mother stepped out from the kitchen. "Mom," Wendy asked, "what are you doing here?" Her mother usually didn't get off work until five. Then she noticed that her mother was in pajamas and was eating a bar of chocolate.

"Cramps," Mrs. Testaburger said simply.

"My deepest sympathies," Wendy said. "Throw me some chocolate." The older woman broke off a few squares from the bar. She tossed it at her daughter, who muttered her thanks before trudging up the stairs. Wendy didn't normally eat junk food, so the chocolate treat was made even more heavenly.

She opened the door to her room and tossed her bag to the ground. She dropped onto her bed and popped the last square of chocolate into her mouth. Her dark eyes swept the room. She needed to straighten it up a bit before Bebe came over. In all reality, Bebe was far past being treated like a guest. As children, they had almost always been at each other's homes. She didn't need to straighten up for Bebe, but it would keep her busy and her mind from wandering too much.

Wendy sighed. She could already feel her thoughts drifting, but she did nothing to stop them. She couldn't seem to pull herself from the bed just yet.

Eric Cartman was such a jerk. Wendy had never done anything to him. She stayed out of his way and didn't pick fights with him. But he twisted every word she said. He debated everything that left her mouth. She had a feeling that she could say Jesus lived down the street, and he would elaborately deny it. But everyone knew Jesus lived down the block. He had a local talk show for Christ's sake!

Cartman was nasty. He was mean. He was evil and manipulative. He thrived off the misery of other people. He was cocky and a narcissist. He was overweight. He was plain looking with brown hair and eyes. But dear God, Wendy had never been more attracted to anything in her life.

Yes, she, Wendy Testabuger, was hopelessly attracted to Eric Cartman. She was years past denying it. Denying it hadn't made it go away. It had only gotten stronger. Yet, admitting it had made it stronger too. She didn't know how he did it. Cartman made her simultaneously want to put a bullet in his head and bone him senseless.

Her attraction to Cartman had begun at that flag debate way back in the third grade. They had been heading their side of the debate against Stan and Kyle. He had made her laugh with his toys, and they had made Quadruple Stuffed Oreos together. She still wouldn't admit it, but she had had fun working with him. She had told Bebe that she was attracted to him. Bebe had suggested that she kiss him and get it over with. So she had. She had kissed Cartman in front of most of the town and Stan. She and Stan had still been together then. Stan had been horrified, but they didn't talk about it after the new flag was unveiled. No one did, not even Cartman. It would have been so like him to rub it in Stan's face, but he never did. Wendy had told Cartman that all her feelings for him had vanished. He had said that his did too. She had pretended that that didn't bother her.

Her feelings hadn't exactly vanished. She had always felt something for Cartman after that. No matter what boy she was with after, it was Cartman that was in the back of her mind. It was one of the main reasons she had called it off with Stan in fourth grade. It was wrong of her to be dating him and thinking about one of his best friends. So she had gone with Token. Cartman and Token weren't friends. In fact, Cartman ripped on Token constantly for being black, and Token was part of Craig's gang. Cartman and Craig hated each other. It had seemed logical, but Token didn't last long. So for some years, until about eighth grade, she had stopped having a little boyfriend like a normal little girl.

Cartman had never had a girlfriend before, not that Wendy knew of. She knew that Heidi had asked him out once, but he had turned her down saying he was interested in someone else. Some people had said that that someone else might have been a guy. Everyone else knew better. Cartman hated gays, and it wasn't a cover up hate like Mr. Garrison's had been. And even if Cartman was gay, he was the type that would cover it up with a girlfriend. Wendy just wanted to know who this other chick was so she could wreck her world for stealing Cartman's affections.

Cartman was the kind of person who had so many walls with so many defenses that it made heads spin. Wendy estimated that his walls were roughly three feet thick, made of solid titanium, and guarded by fifty Star Wars style laser canons each along with a fleet of ninja monkeys. Most people had never seen past his first wall. She liked to think she had gotten past at least two. Stan and Kyle had probably cleared three or four. Kenny McCormick was Cartman's best friend. He had probably cleared most of the walls. But Cartman was the kind of person who would never let anyone past his final wall. Wendy desperately wanted to get to that wall. She wanted to see the real Eric Cartman.

Every once and a while, Wendy would catch Cartman looking at her. Of course, all his walls were up, and to the passerby, it would look as though he were glaring at her. In those instances, Wendy had seen something flash through his eyes. She was never sure what it was. It could very well have been hate or distaste. But then it could have been admiration. Wendy could never tell. She liked to imagine that it was positive emotion that he was feeling towards her. That was unlikely. But whatever it was that Cartman was thinking when he looked at her like that, it still made Wendy want to jump him and kiss him until she passed out from lack of air.

None of this made sense. Wendy grunted as she pulled herself off the bed and began to straighten her room. She had let her thoughts wander for too long. Bebe would be over soon. With her best girlfriend there, it would be easier for Wendy to ignore Cartman filled thoughts.

The next morning, Bebe left just in time for Wendy to jump in the shower before Kyle came over. She was just pulling on her shirt when there was a knock at her bedroom door. "Hang on," Wendy called. She nearly fell over trying to squirm into her shorts. "Okay!"

The door swung open, and Kyle was standing there, an amused expression on his face. "You didn't hurt yourself there, did you," he asked lightly.

"Shut up, Kyle," Wendy said good naturedly. "I was in the shower."

"So I see," he said nodding at her soaked hair. Wendy grabbed a brush and pulled it through the dripping locks. She stuffed it up in a messy knot on top of her head. She looked back to Kyle, who seemed to be holding in a laugh.

"I'll have you know, Mr. Broflovski," Wendy said with her hands on her hips, "that it is much more difficult for women to shower. We have legs and arms to shave, longer hair, and we care about our facial complexion. And I also happen to like salt scrubs."

Kyle laughed. "I don't doubt it, Wendy," he said, dropping his things on her bed and taking a seat. Wendy grabbed her notebook and joined him. They began pouring through calculus notes. Kyle was good with numbers, and he was one of the only people who could make math make sense to Wendy. She didn't know what she'd do without him in college if she needed more math hours. It was likely that she'd drag him to her rooms and keep him hostage until her math classes were over, buying him over with various male atonements like porno movies and an hour's leave each day to light various things on fire.

They studied for a straight three hours before Mrs. Testaburger brought up snacks. After the older woman left, Kyle stretched in a manner that popped about half his bones in his spine. Wendy winced, but Kyle just smiled in relief. "That felt good," he said.

"Sounded painful," Wendy said. Kyle shrugged and popped a cracker into his mouth. "So," Wendy continued, "how's things?"

"Since yesterday," Kyle asked. Wendy smiled. "Doing good."

"You and Stan still okay," she asked with a wink. Kyle smiled broadly.

For years and years, since they were kids, people in town—most notably Cartman—had been teasing Stan and Kyle because of their close friendship. But in all honesty, they had always been closer than it seemed even best friends should be. Many things they did that Cartman observed to be gay usually were pretty gay. If they had fights or misunderstandings, they made up like girls. If they were without each other, they were miserable. It was sweet and weird at the same time.

Wendy had been the first person Kyle had come out to. He would have never come out to Cartman first, and Kenny would have been far too turned on by the talk; he was rapidly getting to a competitive level with Ms. Cartman for the town slut, after all. Kyle had been too scared to say anything to Stan. In the realm of girls, Wendy was his best friend, and Wendy didn't judge people for their sexual preferences. Wendy could help him there. And she had. She had sat down and listened to everything Kyle had said before interjecting her opinions.

She had almost been surprised to hear Kyle actually say that he was feeling things for Stan outside the realm of friendship. Almost. In her humble opinion, Stan and Kyle were made for each other. God had carefully put them together with the other in mind. It didn't matter that both of them were boys. That wasn't meant to stop love.

That conversation had happened three years ago, in their freshman year. While Kyle hadn't cared at all that it was boys and not girls that he was attracted to, it had scared him shitless that he was seeing Stan that way. He didn't care if Stan knew his sexual preferences, but what if Stan knew the feelings that Kyle had for him? Kyle had nearly broken down. Wendy had told Kyle that if he was ready to come out to Stan, then to do it, but that didn't mean he had to tell his best friend about the attraction. Just because it was there and Kyle recognized it, didn't mean that Kyle had to say anything until he was ready.

Kyle had taken Wendy's advice. He had told Stan that he was gay, but he had kept the crush part to himself. Stan had just laughed and said he knew. And they continued their friendship as though nothing had changed. Perhaps nothing had.

Being gay, Kyle's dating options were limited. The only other known gays in town were Tweek and Craig, but they were together. Kenny might have been bi, but Kyle wasn't attracted to the blond. No one was sure if Ms. Garrison could be considered gay anymore, but either way, she was far too old for Kyle, and Kyle would have never considered it. Mr. Slave and Big Gay Al had moved to California a few years ago. Kyle had no dating options, but his appeal among the girls had soared. Sure, they knew he was undatable, but what girl didn't want a gay friend? Kyle was far from a fruit, but he was seen as a window to provide the girls with ample information on the true workings of the male population.

But finally, a few weeks ago, Stan had told Kyle that he liked him a bit more than a best friend should. Kyle's reaction had been rather comical, looking back. Gravity had taken over his jaw, and his eyes had nearly been the size of plates. With a startled eep, he had run away from Stan and straight to Wendy's house. Wendy had heard him yelling for her about a block away. She had run out to meet him expecting to hear that someone had been killed or that the Jackovosaurs from Stark's Pond were rebelling again. She had been unable to contain her laughter when he told her what had happened. The poor boy hadn't known exactly how to react and needed Wendy's advice. She had demanded that Kyle go for it. Kyle had then remembered that he had tactfully run from Stan. The other boy was probably slamming hid head repeatedly into a tree. Kyle had left Wendy in the same manner as he left Stan. The next day, Stan and Kyle were an official couple, one many years in the making.

It hadn't really surprised the rest of the town either. The only ones who ever complained were Cartman and Sheila Broflovski. Cartman just thought it was disgusting. Sheila was depressed that she would never get biological grandchildren.

Both Kyle and Stan, although so obviously in love, were very nervous about their relationship. Both were scared of ruining fifteen years of friendship. Wendy loved both of those boys. She would do all she could to help them through any problems they might have. After all, if Stan and Kyle couldn't make it, what hope did anyone have?

Kyle's eyes sparkled as he spoke, "We're great." Wendy loved how Kyle's green eyes danced when Stan was mentioned. She wished she could show her love like that. She sighed and gave Kyle a wistful smile. He recognized her thoughts. "Don't worry about him, Wendy," Kyle reassured her.

"Kind of hard not to," Wendy muttered. "He hates me, but I can't hate him back, at least not totally."

Kyle knew all about Wendy's thing for Cartman. She had told him a long time ago. She trusted him with that most sacred information. He didn't approve, of course, but he was understanding. For those few years, he had thought there was no way him and Stan would ever be together. He, unlike Wendy, had been lucky. Stan had returned those feelings. Eric wouldn't return Wendy's. He hated her.

"It's just one of those things, I guess," she continued. "I mean, it's never going to happen. We're all graduating in a few weeks. Then after a few months, everyone will go their separate ways. I mean, I know a lot of people are only going as far as Denver, but I'm going to California. I'll probably never even see Cartman again, other than the occasional holiday or reunion. Just one of those what if things. All these years I've been harboring these feelings, and nothing is ever going to come of them."

Kyle sighed. She was probably right. Cartman wasn't showing any interest in Wendy in the way she wanted him to. Cartman didn't show any interest in anyone. He said that there was someone he was looking at, but Kyle couldn't begin to guess who it was; Kenny didn't even have a clue. Kyle didn't want to agree with Wendy. That would seem insensitive, but he didn't know what else to say. His brain was failing him, for once. "Hey," he tried, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders, "whatever happens happens. It'll be for the best in the end." Wendy sighed, but she smiled at him. Kyle gave her shoulders a squeeze and flipped his book back open. "Let's get back to this," he said.

It was another two hours before Kyle left. Wendy walked him to the door and bade him a short good-bye. He yelled a quick reminder about the party at Craig's house over his shoulder. Wendy smiled as she headed back upstairs to get ready for said party. Kyle always made her feel better about the Cartman situation.

She moved into her bathroom and pulled her damp hair down from its knot. She flipped on her straigtener and plugged in her hair dryer. She plugged her iPod into her stereo and turned it on. As she set to work preparing her hair, Wendy let her mind wander. She frowned but did nothing to stop the flow. She needed to get some will power! Cartman was starting to fill her every non-academic thought.

Of course, Cartman would be at the party tonight. Everyone would. It didn't matter if they were popular or not. Parties were always open. And Craig especially threw the best parties. His parents were almost never home, and they would evacuate if Craig told them to. They also provided Craig and his friends with free range at their liquor cabinet. Whiskey, tequila, and rum would be flowing free tonight, not to mention at least one keg. And they wouldn't have to worry about police like most high school students would. South Park's police force—or one Officer Barbrady—was incompetent and lazy. He wouldn't stop them, and if he tried, well, that's where Cartman's manipulative skills came in handy.

Wendy grinned. Cartman had gotten them out of so many MIPs. Of course, he wasn't doing it out of the goodness of his heart. He didn't want those on his record anymore than the rest of them. He already had that week of juvenile hall for hiding Butters in Jimbo's bomb shelter. But that was beside the point. Cartman was an amazing speaker. It was just another way he could be compared to Adolf Hitler. Maybe Kyle was onto something when he claimed Cartman was Hitler's reincarnation.

Wendy set down her straightener and applied her make-up, humming along with the song blaring through the room. The simple task was quickly done, and Wendy ventured back into her room to pick out an outfit. One of her secret favorites started to play, and she danced in and out of her closet, throwing possible shirts and bottoms onto her bed.

About four songs and much contemplation later, Wendy had decided on a pair of stylishly ripped and faded Capri pants along with a rather form-fitting pink top. Wendy sent her thanks upward that the pants weren't very tight. She wouldn't have been able to move. She slipped on numerous noisy bracelets and her rings. She stuck her earrings in as she made her way back into the closet. She needed shoes. As she pushed aside box after box, her all time favorite song came on. "Oh!" she squealed. "Come on shoes!" Finally she found the elusive pink pumps. After quickly slipping them on, Wendy jumped to her feet and dashed into her room for a good dance session.

Just as the song finished, her cell phone began to ring. Good timing. She dove onto her bed and picked it up. "Yello," she called.

"You ready yet," he asked. Wendy made an affirmative noise. "Good. We're pulling into your driveway right now." There was a long, loud honk. "Fuck! God damn it, Stan," Kyle yelled. Wendy joined Stan in laughing.

"I'm coming down," Wendy said before flipping her phone shut. She yelled good-bye to her mother and jogged out to Stan's truck. Kyle had his door open so she could climb in the back. "Hey, boys," she said cheerfully as Stan started backing out.

They returned the greeting. Kyle turned in his seat to look back at her. "Well, Wendy, you're certainly looking hot tonight," he said, both ignoring the almost inaudible snort from Stan. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Kyle continued, "If I weren't gay, I'd certainly be all over you right about now."

"WHAT," Stan yelled and swerved slightly. Kyle and Wendy laughed loudly. "But—but—Kyle!" he protested. Kyle gave Stan a punch on the shoulder. "Don't hit the driver."

Kyle ignored the last comment and said, "Chill, dude. I'm gay. Boobs do nothing for me. What does, on the other hand, is—"

"Oh, God!" Wendy cried. "I don't want to hear it." Stan's sense of humor finally returned, and he laughed. Kyle chuckled and looked back at Wendy with a raised brow. She stared back. He looked rather amused about something. Wendy folded her arms over her chest in an indignant manner. She huffed.

"You know, Cartman might have been right about you two brain fucking," Stan said. His voice caused the silent pair to look up at him with questioning expressions. "Well," Stan defended, "you're getting all intense and crap. You sure you aren't cheating on me, dude? Like all brainwave style?"

"Yes, Stan," Kyle said sarcastically, "we go at it at least twice a day, usually in the gym bathrooms. Wendy just wooed me with her manly wiles."

Wendy deepened her voice, "That's right, baby. Why don't you come bring that fine, spanktacular ass back here to daddy?"


Stan smiled as he parked the truck in the street in front of Craig's house. "Out," he commanded. He walked to the other side of his truck to find Wendy and Kyle making a show of running their hands all over each other. "Sick," Stan said, grabbing Kyle and putting an arm protectively around his shoulders.

Wendy laughed as she ran to catch up to them. She slowed her pace along side Kyle. "You do know that we're joking, right, Stan," she asked.

Stan held his stare of righteous anger for a few seconds before breaking out into a grin. "Yeah, Wends, I know," he said slyly, "I mean, there's no way you can make Kyle moan as loud as me."

"Stan!" Kyle yelled punching the other's arm hard, "She doesn't want to hear that." To illustrate the point Wendy stuck her fingers in her ears and began to hum loudly.

"You know, Wendy won't listen to all that, but I'd love too. Hot stuff right there," a voice said from the darkness. Kenny McCormick stepped out from behind a tree, a cigarette held loosely in his hand. He blew a cloud of smoke towards them. Wendy held in a cough. She hated that stuff.

"Fuck off, Kenny," Stan said. "You're a pervert."

"This is true," Kenny said grinning. "And I'd love to fuck something. Shall we, Wendy?" He extended a hand towards the darkness from which he had emerged in an over-exaggerated manner.

She slapped him. He only laughed. The four began to walk towards the house. "What are you doing out here, Kenny," Kyle asked.

Kenny raised a brow and waved the cigarette he had just taken a puff of in the redhead's face. "I thought you were smart," he said, throwing the stick to the ground and stomping it out with his shoe. "Smoking is the only thing Craig's parents are tightasses about. Remember when Craig beat the shit out of Kevin for smoking inside? I'm not a dumbass. For Kevin it was just a beating. If it had been me, something would have happened, and I would have died. I know it happens all the time, but it still hurts like a bitch."

"Poor baby," Wendy cooed. Kenny flipped her off. She smirked as they stepped up onto the porch.