Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~


Chapter One: Angelic Death


My name is Kyle Broflovski. I'm a junior attending South Park High, and am currently, much to my dismay, wearing three-inch heels and a short black poofy dress with ribbons in my hair.

A lot has happened in my life. I've been in more near-death instances than I'd like to recall, and until recently, had two best friends- Stan and Kenny. They were always there for me, so I was always miraculously saved. Most of my near death experiences, however, happened because of the asshole now sitting at my table.

And really, despite the fact I'm dressed like a girl, things were starting to look up for once.

Why the hell… did this have to happen? I stare down at my worst enemy seated at the table. His short brown hair is in the same style he's had since we were young, and he's wearing his signature red jacket, complete with A wide smile is spread across Cartman's face as he eyes me like I am a plump mouse- and Cartman is the cat.

Let me back up a bit.

It started earlier this year, back in January. It started with a stupid teapot my mom had- it was white with little pink flowers etched on it. It sat on our dining room table. One day, I came home from school and saw it.

I threw it across the room and it hit the wall, smashing into a million little pieces. I was alone in the house, so no one heard it, but at that moment during it's impact, something inside of me snapped.

I wanted my freedom. Sophomore through junior year- my mom had been pushing me to the point where I couldn't take it anymore. I studied so much that I thought my eyeballs were going to fall out. She wouldn't let me see my friends. I know she was doing it for my benefit, but to the extent that she took it, I literally had no life outside of my books. I became so obsessed with getting into a good college that I literally had nightmares about not getting into Harvard or Princeton or Yale, and I would wake up sweating or even crying.

My whole present life became about my future life. The guys would ask me to go play football a few times or go to an arcade, or even to some parties, but I always turned them down. Luckily, my mom let me see Stan sometimes, as long as it was a 'study session'. We're still best friends, but during those study sessions, neither of us would say much so I always felt like we were drifting apart. Up until recently, I was so oblivious to most of the things he did (outside of study with me) that I failed to notice he began to go out with Wendy again, after breaking up in sophomore year twice.

In my family, I'm more of my mom's kid. Ike is my dad's. Ike liked more sports, I liked more books. It just came out that way, so of course, being the older and more mature child anyway, they expected me to be the one to excel and get the best grades and into the best school. However, that wasn't the case. It was Ike that ended up being the real genius. In his classes through elementary middle school, it became a normal occurrence that his teachers would phone our house around dinner time and inform my parents that they wanted to push him up a grade. And again. And again.

Soon enough, when I entered high school, Ike was in ninth grade with me. We didn't talk much at school, and our home life became even more stressful. Then he got asked to attend a prestigious private school somewhere in Maryland, and then he moved out. Now at home, it's just me, Mom and Dad. Dad still works a lot so it's mostly Mom I see, and after Ike left, she became really focused on me and my grades, feeling like she failed me as a parent or something stupid.

All I did was study as soon as I got home from school. I would stay up until the wee hours of the morning pouring over my SAT practice guides and various book reports. I couldn't even think straight once I was in school.

The day I threw the teapot, I got my SAT scores back. A 2310. 90 points below perfect.

Then it happened. Something inside of me changed—I was sick of the life I had. I was sick of my Mom controlling who I saw and never giving me time to actually grow by myself and develop as a person, or even just leave the house.

Tea dripped unceremoniously down the ugly green wallpaper. Of course, by the time Mom returned home, I had cleaned it up, but the mere act of doing something so crude and selfish really, well, liberated me. I felt free for the first time in forever. I had lit a small flame inside myself and my mom would never be able to see it, or put it out.

At that moment, I decided that once I was out of high school, I would live on my own. I didn't want to have to depend on my family for financial reasons or personal. I wanted to live my own life, and not just be a siphon for my mom's dashed hopes and dreams.

Don't get me wrong- I love my family. But, they are genuinely unhealthy for my sanity and wellbeing. In order for me to break free of not only my mom's suffocating grip, and also the shadow of my brother's success, I have to do things for myself.

The first thing I had to do to be able to get my plan working was to save up money. Lots of it.

Therefore, I needed a job. Badly. No one was really hiring. Obviously, I couldn't let my family find out about my job, so I couldn't very well have asked them for help. Asking kids at school seemed out of the question as well considering I had basically been acting like a corpse for the last two years, and I doubted any of them really wanted to help me out.

Then one day after winter break, I overheard some of the guys talking about this restaurant.

"Dudes, you have to check this place out!" Clyde said triumphantly in homeroom one day, pulling a flyer out of his backpack. At the time, I was barely interested in anything those idiots had to say, I was too preoccupied with my own stuff. But, I just so happened to be listening.

Stan was sitting with Wendy on his lap, looking as happy as a puppy dog with a treat. She was smiling at him and being Miss Perfect, as usual. Kenny and Butters were there too, chatting with Token about something. The fat-ass was sitting in front of me, his head down. He was acting annoyed about something so I just didn't bother even insulting him that morning.

Anyway, Clyde came in and was talking about this great restaurant called "Angel Morte."

"Doesn't that mean 'Angel Death'?" I piped in, looking up from my copy of Crime and Punishment.

Clyde looked surprised at my interjection, but he just smiled stupidly and continued, "Yeah- and it really is what it says. Death by angels," Clyde smiled stupidly to himself and held the flyer out for everyone to see. "It's right near Stark's pond on the edge of town, just opened up too. It used to be a Raisins, but it was shut down years ago, so they got a new owner and redesigned the place and hired a lot of the girls again. The only people that work there are cute girls- they're hiring now too because it's new. They wear these short waitress dresses that are either white or black—

"Sounds like you've spent a lot of time there," Wendy added smartly, smiling at Clyde's embarrassment.

"You're just jealous you could never work there, Wendy, they're only looking for cute girls," he replied back smoothly. Stan began to retort, but I zoned out of the conversation.

My heart sank. Truly- I'd been looking for a job for a few months at that point. I was desperate. Even desperate enough to…

"Can I ask your name, young lady?" the manager of the restaurant looked me up and down and smiled. He was an older Japanese man named Mr. Yamamoto. He seemed nice enough, but I still couldn't have been more embarrassed even if I wanted to be.

I was wearing a dress my mom had long since abandoned since she gained one hundred pounds after I was born. It was pink and frilly. I know it was completely dumb to assume that he wouldn't know I was a boy, but for years, Eric Cartman would remark how feminine and gay I looked, so I just prayed for once that he was right and I could really pass it off. I even looked up how to apply lipstick on the internet.

As another precaution, I wasn't wearing my hat, which I constantly wore at school. My hair had gotten long enough that my red curls drooped to my shoulders. I was slim enough that I had next to no body muscle, and my legs looked long and slender, almost exactly like a girl's legs. Genuinely, even I have to admit I really did look like a girl. A girl wearing very dirty tennis shoes with a pink frilly dress, but a girl nonetheless. Dressing up Butters as Marjorine years ago finally paid off.

"Kyl-" I began, then realizing how dumb it would be to use my real name, I quickly added in a higher pitched version of my voice, "-lee. Kylie."

The manager nodded and looked me up and down once more, smiling to himself with the look of a pedophile. I inwardly cringed but kept my composure.

"We do have a position open waiting tables, if you don't mind that kind of work. The theme of this restaurant is a cute twist on the idea of 'angels of death'. The uniforms are either white or black with bows and lace, as you've seen, depending on if you're a normal angel or the angel of death. As long as you're good at remembering who ordered what and are congenial and polite, you should be fine."

I beamed and grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. "Thank you very much, sir! I'll do my best!" I said in the high-pitched voice.

The uniform, as I quickly discovered, was an elaborate short black dress, with a turtle neck at the top and no sleeves. Instead, I had long black arm warmers that tied rich above my elbows and around my middle finger. A black large bow was tied around my middle and hung in the back just over my poofed, short skirt, which had a lace petticoat underneath it. The manager quickly noticed that my chest was, as he put it, 'less endowed' than the other girls, so I got the darker angel motif instead of the cleavage showing white dress with feathery angel wings. There were also long lacey ribbons tied on either side of my head and hung lower than my actual hair, which when out of my hat, hangs to my shoulders in perfect ringlets. It's also stupidly required that all the waitresses wear these obnoxious three-inch heels that I'm still getting used to wearing.

I have been working here for a week. Guys have tried to look up my skirt as I walk away, but they leave great tips. And besides- I'm not actually a girl. Not even my coworkers have found out yet- it was going pretty great. I've been saving up my money and soon, for college, I'll be self-sufficient. Things were going great.

But that was until this asshole decided to ruin it all for me.

"What do you want?" I whisper at him in my normal voice, my anger and embarrassment seething. I clenched the menu I was holding in my hands tightly. There is no way I could run away from him without making a scene.

Today is one of the slower days in the restaurant, sadly; otherwise one of the other girls could have taken his table. I agreed to it before I noticed who the hell was sitting here. Fuck. Did he find out about my mom? Not even Stan knows that! Did he really come to ruin everything for me?

He blinks and looks me up and down again. He isn't as fat as he was when we were younger, but he was still larger than me, about four inches taller and has a larger build. He hadn't worn his hat in years so his short brown hair was always showing now. His red coat is unbuttoned at the top.

Cartman smiles again, and says simply, "A hamburger with a large order of fries."

I blink- surprise would be an understatement of what I'm feeling. I look at him, my jaw dropping open.

"Repeat that," I say, looking him in the face. One of my red curls unceremoniously falls in my face. Cartman's smile widens as he leans into me.

"A hamburger," he says slowly, staring deeply into my eyes, "and large fries." If I didn't know any better, it appears Cartman is flirting with me. Me who he thinks is a girl.

He doesn't know it's me.

He doesn't recognize me.

I'm safe?

"Uh-" I scramble to regain composure and tuck the curl behind my ear. "Right away sir." Bow for the customer. Right. I bow to Cartman through gritted teeth and make off toward the kitchen, my heels clacking the whole way.

My heart is beating in my ears. I quickly write down his order and pin it on the string above the kitchen. Glancing back toward the fat-ass, I notice he's still watching me with his narrowed brown eyes.

I gulp again. This is fucking unreal. Why is he here? Does he seriously not recognize me?

I mean- yeah the girls working here think I'm a girl, and so does the manager, and so far, so do all the customers, but really, Cartman can't tell? He's been such an ass to me forever- I thought he of all people would be able to recognize the face of the person he's been tormenting his entire life.

I squat behind the welcome table, out of his sight, and sit on the ground, the ribbons on my lacey skirt dragging on the floor. What should I do? I could get him kicked out if I say he's harassing me. The bouncers would be thrilled.

But I can't do anything too drastic- I need this job. Fuck my life. Maybe if he just doesn't recognize me, he'll leave and we both can go on our merry ways and just pretend this never happened?

Standing up, I grab a bread bowl and walk toward his table. He was sitting next to one of the giant windows with the booth seats.

"Would you like some bread, sir?" I attempt to smile but it probably looks like I'm in pain. He glances up at me from a book he was reading- Crime and Punishment. He was almost at the end. He's doing his English homework?

"Sure," he smiles again at me. My smile vanishes as I look at him. Every other time I've seen this teen smile, usually I was in pain or completely pissed off. This is weird.

I feel my cheeks heat up as I place the bowl on his table. Why am I blushing? It's probably out of being completely creeped out by an actual… human-like Cartman.

I turn on my heel and walk back toward the backroom where the other waitresses hang out. Ever since Raisins was torn down a few years ago (something about promoting underage prostitution) most of the girls that worked there now work here. There's Lexis, Mercedes, Porsche, Acura and Ferrari. Despite appearing to be complete sluts, they're actually pretty decent people. Only Porsche seems interested in actually dating the customers.

Today though, since it is a little slow, only Ferrari is still working. Cartman and some old guy who always orders an omelet are the only ones eating.

"Hey Ferrari," I start in my high-pitched voice again. She's changing out of her white dress into her normal clothes; I guess she's leaving soon too. She's down to her bra and panties. I look elsewhere in the room. It would be awkward to look at her- I am still a guy after all. "That kid in there… does he come here a lot?"

Ferrari turns to face me, and blinks, her long brown hair framing her tan body, "You mean the one with the brown hair? Every once in a while, he's been coming for a few weeks."

Shit, he's come here before. I can't very well throw him out.

"Oh- okay…" I look down, disheartened. Ferrari smiles at me and pulls on her jeans.

"He always seems a little down if you ask me… Why- you interested?" she asks, pulling on a red tank top.

"Interested…" I trail off, wondering what she means, until, "Oh NO! God no!" My face turns red as I think about it. "Cartman? Never! Someone would have to be crazy to like him." I'm blathering and all the while, Ferrari is getting the absolute wrong idea.

She laughs, "You don't have to be embarrassed, Kylie." She folds up her uniform and places it in her locker. Walking past me toward the door, she glances back at me. "It seems like Mr. Gastborovic is leaving- that leaves you two alone. I think only Thomas is in the kitchen tonight too," she pauses and waves at me, walking out the door, "Good luck!"

…I'm not gay. Especially for Cartman.

I hear Thomas ring the bell and I know Cartman's order is ready. Attempting to compose myself I take a deep breath and push open the door.

He's still sitting there reading his book with half a piece of bread in his hand.

Grabbing the plate full of steaming fries and hamburger, I walk carefully over to his table. There's no light outside. I glance up at the clock- it was 9:30. We'll be closing in half an hour…

"Here you go, sir," I say in my high-pitched voice again as I place the plate on his table.

He looks down at it and back up at me. "Thanks…" he says softly, glancing at my nametag, "Kylie."

The surprise at his thanks doesn't quite hit me right away as I smile at him. "It's my job, sir." Curse this restaurant and making all its employees add 'sir' and 'madam' at the end of every sentence.

"I have to ask though…" he says, looking me in the eyes again. Ice overtakes my insides as I grip my plate. "Is there some reason I don't have a drink?" his voice is dripping with acid and I feel his eyes shooting daggers at me in annoyance.

Yep. That's the Cartman I know.

"Oh- I'm sorry!" I say quickly. My fear takes over anytime I see him like that and I see white. "Um, water is okay, right? Right. Be right back, sir, I'm sorry!" I say in a hurry as I spin toward the kitchen. In one swift movement, as I put my left foot down, I lose my balance and my chin meets with the tiled floor with a loud thud.

"Ow…" is all I say as I push myself off the floor. Today fucking sucks. I glance back at Cartman, getting the feeling he's about to laugh his ass off. Instead, he's pushing himself out of the booth and walking up to my fallen and embarrassed self.

I'm still on the floor as he puts one of his hands out toward me, a smirk on his face. He was amused by my fall, but he was keeping it on the inside. I look between his hand and him as my brain slowly processes the fact he wants me to grab hold of it.

I push myself off the ground slightly and take hold of his hand, which is much larger than my own. He pulls me upward very quickly and I find my head in his chest and my body pressed against his.

He leans his face into mine, and smiles as I blush. He chuckles at my obvious embarrassment at the situation, "That's what you get for forgetting my drink."

I stutter and push him off of me, running into the kitchen and closing the door behind me. What-the-fuck-was-that?

I got Thomas to deliver the drink for me and lock up that night- I couldn't face Cartman again. I ran out through the back exit and changed outside, then went home.


That was last night. Now it's Thursday, and I'm at school, and I have no choice but to see him.

He's sitting at his desk in front of me as the rest of the class chatters away. Mr. Garrison is telling people to take their seats so we can begin our lesson.

So… he really didn't know it was me?


He doesn't respond.

"Cartman," I tap on his shoulder as the class slowly quiets down. He glances over it and frowns, furrowing his brows.

"What the fuck do you want, Jew?" he whispers venomously.

I inwardly wince at the anger in his voice. He didn't sound like that when I was dressed as a girl…

He sighs before I can answer. "Did you read the fucking book, Jew?"

I blink. "Crime and Punishment? Yeah."

He smirks slightly and twists more in his chair to get a better look at me. "Did you do the homework then?"

I know where this is going. "Yes and I'm not letting you copy it."

"But Kahllll…" he draws out my name in his annoying way. "I was busy last night, I didn't even have time to read the stupid book, let alone do the homework."

But… I saw him reading it last night… he really has no idea it's me? And he was almost done with it when I saw him… I sigh. "Fine. You just have to promise to be super nice to me for the rest of your life."

"Oh, like that's going to happen Jew-boy."

I smile at his stupid choice of words. "Fine then, go on without your homework."

His face twists into anger. "Fuck you, kike!"

"Eric Cartman- watch your language!" Mr. Garrison says from the front of the room. I smile. It was fun making him mad.

Although, I still wonder if he knew it was me. He sure didn't act like it… although it was Cartman after all.

I think… I'll just keep it a secret. Hopefully he just won't show up again and we can forget about it.


Author's Note:

Sleep deprivation at it's finest. Came up with this idea at 4 am a few nights ago and was actually able to bang out a chapter in one sitting, I'm pretty happy with how it came out.

I am not dropping my other stories, don't worry. I just needed a little break from all the angst of 1.5 MPH and all the references in Broken Worlds… it was a brain break for me.

Plus I've been watching a really cute BL anime and I wanted KyCart to have a cute scene minus angst sometimes, ya know? 1.5 MPH is becoming hard to write when I want to write adorable blushing scenes. :D

Anywho, thanks for reading.

Dunno how long this will be actually. And I wrote it in a different style than I normally do, which was pretty difficult I have to admit. Present tense first person is hard for me.

Love, ON