Author Notes: Thanks for reading/reviewing chapter one, dudes. I'm glad it appeared to go down well. Heh...'go down'... XD! Anyway, here's chapter two. I have a feeling that some of you may not like this one so much. We'll see... This chapter includes talk of a sexual nature, but no action so I'm leaving the rating as it is for now.

Chapter Two

'Dang…three days at Cartman's house? Well, that ain't splendid at all! In fact, I daresay I'd call it the total complete opposite word to splendid! Whatever that is…'

Kyle leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples as the library's fluorescent lighting threatened to give him a migraine. He reproachfully eyed the textbook on the table in front of him as he nodded his agreement.

'Tell me about it. How'd we get stuck with such an eccentric school councillor anyway?'

Just as his friend was about to answer, they were sourly shushed by the decrepit librarian sitting close by. The shyer of the two half-smiled apologetically, squirming in his seat when the gesture was shot down with the spiteful look she gave him. Kyle, on the other hand, gladly returned her beady eyed glare, subtly flipping her off when she snootily returned to her Jane Austen novel. Sweeping his long blond bangs out of his eyes, Butters shuffled his chair closer to Kyle's, lowering his voice to a whisper.

'I really like Tim,' he said softly. 'Sure, he's crazy as a soup sandwich. But he helps me out a lot.'

'I know,' Kyle murmured back. 'And I like him too. I just wish that he'd play things a little more by the book and recommend sending Cartman for sectioning like a normal councillor would. Instead, I'm stuck with a fat wannabe-Nazi retard stinking up my house for three fucking days.'

'Aww…' Butters chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. 'I guess that means we won't be havin' our slumber party at your place next Friday night after all, huh?'

Kyle cringed. 'Dude…for the last time, don't call it that. But no, I guess not. Not unless you think you can put up with Cartman for the night. You're more than welcome to try. I'd certainly appreciate the backup.'

Butters recoiled in an almost fearful manner. 'N-no thanks. I'd love t' help you out an' all, but I'm just not as brave as you. I think I'd rather stay home…' He paused for a moment, looking conflicted. 'Wow…never thought I'd say that, but I'm pretty sure it's the lesser of the two evils.'

He let out a short laugh, and Kyle winced at how forced and bitter it sounded.

'Sorry, dude. You know you can call me if anything-'

'I know,' Butters cut him off sharply, then immediately softened. 'I mean…thanks. I really do appreciate it.'

Helpless to do anything else, Kyle smiled awkwardly and suddenly found the inane contents of his textbook very interesting. Butters returned an equally strained smile, closing his eyes and trying to reclaim his happy place. The pair were silent for a while, allowing the cloud of tension to fade away naturally, as it so often did. Homework forgotton, Butters glanced around the near to empty library. The red head heard him start to sing softly under his breath as he nervously fiddled with his fingers. Kyle rolled his eyes, but before he could distract Butters from his familiar neurotic behaviour, the blond spoke.

'Anyways, I told ya that you couldn't go for a week without goin' to the principal's office 'cause of Cartman! I guess that's five dollars that you owe me!'

Kyle mirrored the other boy's playful grin, looking thoughtful as he ran a hand through his short messy curls.

'Oh, I dunno about that. You only bet me that I'd end up in the principal's office. It was the councillor's office today, so technically...'

'But, you… Aww… I suppose that's true. Darn technicalities.'

Kyle watched fondly as the other teen pouted, chewing the eraser at the end of his pencil. Looking at Butters, no-one would think that this boy was only three months shy of his seventeenth birthday. But then, it would never really matter how many birthdays came and went for Leopold Stotch – he would always be 'sweet innocence Butters' to his friend.

'Tell you what,' Kyle said. 'I'm a fair guy. I'll buy you an ice cream on the way home and we'll call it even. Sound good?'

Butters cocked his head to one side, glancing out of the nearby window at the two feet of snow covering the high school parking lot. He looked back at Kyle, arching an eyebrow. Kyle sniggered, taking the hint.

'Okay, a nice warm donut then. Deal?'

Eyeing Kyle's extended hand, Butters noticeably flushed.

'Y-you don't really have to buy me nothin'…'

Kyle grinned. 'Ah, why not? It's not like I have a boyfriend to spoil right now. Perhaps I won't feel so painfully single if I give my best buddy a treat.'

Butters smiled brightly. He loved being reminded that he was somebody's best friend. It always made him think, if only for a moment, that perhaps life wasn't so awful after all. Neglecting Kyle's hand, he wrapped his arm around the red head's shoulder and leaned in. Kyle rolled his eyes, bracing himself as Butters' lips brushed his cheek, briefly and affectionately. He clocked the disapproving look the librarian gave them, choosing to ignore it. Butters' quirkiness was definitely an acquired taste. But the degree of loyalty and kindness that came along with being his friend more than made up for all the weirdness.

As a humming Butters cheerfully returned to his biology homework, Kyle flipped open the notebook that Mr Evers had given him. The councillor had given one to Cartman also. The books were meant to be used to document their thoughts and feelings before, during and after the proposed home-swap experiment. Since there was no time like the present, Kyle uncapped his newly refilled fountain and started to write:

'Friday - 3.25pm

Less than 48 hours until my 'adventure' with Cartman begins. I was apprehensive at first, but now that I've resigned myself to the fact that it's happening, I'm feeling more apathetic about it with each passing minute. I believe that adopting such a mentality will help towards preventing me from going completely insane over the next week.

My first course of action upon arrival at Cartman's house will be to request for all sharps objects, recording equipment and Nyquil to be placed under lock and key for the duration of my stay. This is purely for my own piece of mind - I'd rather not have poorly taken photographs of Cartman sucking my cock leaking onto the Internet, thank you very much!

I'm still not entirely sure I'll make it out of this situation alive. Should anything happen to me, I hereby grant permission for Butters to have all the shit I keep stashed under my bed, including my collection of PlayGirl magazines. I trust that they will bring you as much joy and happiness as they've brought me, my friend.

Wish me luck!'

* * * * *

Henrietta lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her demure lace clothing and shoulder-length hair blended perfectly against the black backdrop of her velvet bed-sheets. Her plump form may have been rendered totally invisible if not for her pearly skin and cat-like amber eyes, and the telltale white cigarette dangling from her dark lips. Thick curtains were drawn tightly across her window, darkening the room. Rammstein played quietly in the background, since her so-called 'friend' had insisted on switching off the 'ear-bleeding Goth shit' that usually flooded the air.

He sat there on the bed beside her, back against the headboard. His body was angled towards the bedside lamp, like a flower reaching for the sun. In the dim light he leisurely penciled onto a notepad, his thick pink tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth to highlight his concentration.

Noticing her cigarette was half finished, Henrietta pulled herself up the bed to sit next to him, extending her pale hand in his direction.

'So, you and your arch nemesis are having a week-long sleepover? Sounds sexy. Can I watch?'

Observing her smirk disdainfully, he snatched the offered cigarette from her poised fingers.

'Fuck off, you whore. I'm about to have the worst week of my life and you're making fucking jokes about it?'

'Of course. You know I love it when you're miserable.'

Placing his notebook on his lap, Cartman reclined back against the headboard and took a long luxurious drag. He exhaled long and hard, watching the cloud of smoke rise and curl, then disintegrate to nothing. He looked down his front at the noticeable blue ink stains, irritably prodding them with a pudgy finger.

'Goddamn Kyle,' he growled. 'This is all his fucking fault. I hate that son of a bitch!'

Henrietta snorted, her voice muffled by the new filter trapped between her lips.

'Whatever, dude,' she said. 'Don't pretend you're not gonna love spending so much time alone with him. That nerdy little ginge is practically your fucking muse. You so totally wanna give it to him.'

She raised the lighter to her face but it was yanked from her hands before she could strike it. She glared at Cartman, who pointed the object in her face in some kind of bizarre threatening gesture.

'Shut the fuck up!' he hissed. 'I'm sick of telling you, I'm no fucking cocksucker. And I definitely don't want that fluffy fucking Jew-fag. In case you haven't noticed, I like having sex with girls.'

Rolling her eyes, Henrietta snatched the lighter back and lit her cigarette before continuing.

'Spare me. The only girl you've ever had sex with is me. And that's solely because I'm crazy and stupid enough to allow you to touch me, such is my level of self respect.'

Cartman shrugged, grinning coolly as he stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray lying between them.

'Whatever. I've never had any complaints from you before.'

'All I'm saying is that it sure ain't my name that you whisper when you blow your wad.'

Gritting his teeth, Cartman hastily turned his attention back to his sketching. Finding his irritated expression thoroughly entertaining, the Goth girl sat back and patiently awaited his reaction.

'Why the fuck would it be anyway?' he said suddenly. 'It's not like you've ever said mine. You're probably thinking of Marilyn Manson or one of your other Goth rock faggots.'

He smirked, not bothering to look up as Henrietta spluttered on a lungful of smoke. He'd learned by now exactly what to say to push her buttons. Having recovered from choking, she fixed a glare at him, eyes watery and defensive.

'First of all, Marilyn Manson isn't Goth,' she ranted. 'He's a fucking corporate sell-out like all of the other platinum-selling MTV marionettes out there. And secondly, stop changing the fucking subject.'

She accentuated her point beautifully by prodding his forearm with the lit end of her cigarette. He hissed loudly, his pencil and notebook both flying up into the air.

'Ahh! Fucking bitch!'

Hernietta grinned evilly, watching him clutching at the scorched area. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cartman regretted making that promise to himself to never hit a girl. He couldn't deny that she was pretty damn good at pushing his buttons too. Silently counting to ten, he sighed and forced a smirk through the pain.

'Alright then, Beth Ditto. If I'm such a Goddamn queer, then what is it that keeps you coming back to me for more?'

'Easy,' she shrugged. 'You're the only guy in this priggish conformist town willing to give me anal. In fact, that's all you're willing to give me. Remind me again why that is, Captain Heterosexual?'

Once again, Cartman felt his blood boil at her infuriating tone.

'It's so I don't have to look at your hideous fucking face throughout, you fat skank!'

To his surprise, she actually laughed out loud, something she rarely ever did. It was enough to make him crack a smile. She seemed almost human when she laughed like that. Suddenly her head came to rest on his shoulder, her ample chest pressing against his upper arm. When his eyes met hers, she craned her neck upwards, capturing his lips chastely. He automatically opened his mouth to her, his tongue snaking out to taste her tobacco-flavored lips. Her reaction was to tighten her fingers in his ponytail and pull aggressively, yanking his face away from her own. She observed his pained expression gleefully, rubbing away the black lipstick smeared across his chin with her thumb.

'You know, it's a shame you're obviously a rampant faggot. We'd make a fucking delicious couple.'

Rubbing the back of his aching head, he arched a curious brow at her before retrieving his notebook from the floor.

'You wish, bitch.'

Henrietta chuckled darkly, sliding back down the bed to return her gaze to the ceiling. When he was positive that she was done tormenting him for now, Cartman turned to review his sketch - a rough design of a sword-wielding skeleton in knight's armor, perched upon the back of a reared up stallion. He grinned proudly - the horse's mane wasn't particularly realistic and its undead rider could stand to look a little more ferocious, but overall he was happy with it. Satisfied, he closed the notebook that Mr Evers had given him and placed it on Henrietta's bedside table. No doubt, Cartman's first entry probably wasn't the in-depth outpouring of emotion that his screwball councillor had hoped for. But it was good enough for him.

* * * * *

Just to clarify, this will definitely by a Kyman story. But right now, we have a light sprinkling of Kyutters, and a huge dollop of Erietta. The Kyle/Butters part was harder for me to write than the Cartman/Henrietta stuff, for some reason. Erietta is quite a random crack pairing, but I think it's awesome. It's also the only straight Cartman pairing that I like. I've never seen any fics for it though. That depresses me a little. Does anyone know of any? Please let me know! I will be forever in your debt!

Just in case you didn't pick up on it, Cartman's sketch wasn't just a random cool thing to draw. The death card in tarot is a skeleton on horseback and is supposed to represent inevitable change, among other things.

Next chapter...Cartman's house! Be there! Please? :D Thanks for reading!



PS: Am I the only one who thinks TeenCartman would be totally hot with a ponytail?