Author's Note: Hi all, Ra here! I had some help on this from Schrod1ng3r—she did Christophe's lines for me (well, wrote them with his accent or whatever 'cos I fail). Another south park fic, btw. This is, quite possibly, my favorite pairing. Like you have no idea. Anyways. This is done to one of the various 100-theme challenges I have. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. South Park and all related names and characters belong to the epicness of Matt Stone and Trey Parker.
Warning: This fic IS Gregory x Christophe as some points, so if you don't like, don't stick around. You've been warned.
It was raining the first day that Gregory met him. Gregory. . . had never been a fan of the rain, really. It always seemed to rain at home, and it made everything that much more dismal. Though often times, that's just how things were: dismal. With the way his mind worked, he saw things in a very complicated manner—it wasn't something he could help.
The first time they met, it was no different. The facts were simple: Gregory's parents were out of town, as per usual, and he was supposed to be going to church with his nanny. Supposed to be meaning he'd slipped away in favor of trekking through a shady pass, looking up to the trees above him. They formed a sort of canopy over his head, though did nothing to protect him from the rain. He continued looking up as he walked—proving to be a bad idea. His feet suddenly lost all solidity beneath him—He was falling, down a dark hole. He was uncertain as to whether or not he let out a small cry, until he felt himself hit the bottom of the hole.
He groaned and sat up—that had hurt. Directly in front of him was a tunnel. He wasn't sure where it went, but right now, it wasn't important. He looked up to the opening of the tunnel, then around at relatively smooth sides… There was no way out, was there?
Gregory stood, dusting himself off with practiced hands. At six years old, he was already quite educated in the ways of being 'proper'—his nanny had made sure of that. Little hands patted the dirt walls… There were not foot holes or any other way out—
"What are you doing 'ere?" demanded a rough voice. Gregory whipped around—he was face to face with a rather dirty Frenchman. His height, with messy brown hair and dirt-caked skin, the child before him also had a cigarette hanging from his lips and bandages randomly on his face and hands. Gregory noted how the other kid had a shovel on his back, rope around one shoulder and a sash from the other—the sash had various pockets (it almost looked like something from the military, Gregory realized).
"I fell down the hole," he admitted embarrassedly when he realized the other boy was watching him with a strange animosity.
"You Breetish beetches watch where you're going, n'est-ce pas?" The other boy spat, his mannerisms on the offensive for reasons Gregory didn't know.
"You've an awful mouth for a child." He frowned at the foul language, shaking his head.
"Who're calling a child, beetch?"
"You, obviously," Gregory replied, crossing his arms. "Why are you digging a hole?"
"Eet eez none of your beeziness," the dirty child replied, pushing past Gregory. He inspected the walls before realizing he too, was stuck in this hole. Gregory watched as the brunette began to swear in French, then looked up to the top of the hole. They had to get out somehow… His mind worked quickly—if he stood on the other kid's shoulders, he could get out and then… hm… He looked around before noticing the rope on the other's shoulder.
"Hey, kid, I know how we can get out of here." Gregory's voice was confident—wasn't it always though? He knew what he was talking about—this would work. He didn't give the other boy a chance to speak, continuing on. "If you give me your rope, I can climb on your shoulders and get out… tie the rope around a tree and toss the other end down to help you back out."
The other boy stared hard at Gregory, as if thinking. Gregory waited patiently, knowing that there was no other way out. Finally the dirty kid grabbed Gregory's front collar, snarling.
"Eef you don't 'old up your end—"
"I will, on my honor." Gregory lifted his hands, completely calm. He leaned away from the other slightly, not enjoying having cigarette smoke snarled in his face. The other kid let him go and walked over the wall, grumbling—he didn't think this was going to work. Just because Gregory didn't speak French didn't mean he couldn't figure out what the other was grumbling about. But then, moments later, they were putting their plan into action and he was climbing out of the hole. The front of his shirt was so dirty—Ugh, dirt. He shook his head and got up, brushing himself off.
"Tie eet up, beetch!" The dirty boy called from down the hole. Gregory considered—very briefly—leaving him there. But, he'd said 'on my honor' and on his honor it was. He tied one end around a tree and brought the rope back to the hole.
"I have a name, you know." Gregory said, leaning over the opening and looking down the rope in his hand. "It's Gregory Thorne." He expected to be called by his name before he tossed the rope down. The dirty kid looked up to him.
"Euh… So what? I don't care," he grumbled angrily. Gregory shook his head.
"I don't appreciate being called a 'bitch'. If you want this, you'll call me by my name. I think that's fair, don't you?" Gregory's voice was tauntingly cool, watching the other boy with cold eyes. There was a groan and a grumble. "Or… well, at least tell me your name." He would settle for that too—maybe he could get the other boy in trouble for this…
". . . beetch."
Gregory waited quietly.
". . . Christophe," the dirty kid said finally. "Christophe DeLorn. Now toss zee damn rope down, beetch!" Gregory rolled his eyes, tossing the rope down to the brunette.
"Nice to meet you, Christophe," he said politely, out of habit. He backed away from the hole then, hurrying away—church would be ending soon, and his nanny would have a fit if she couldn't find him. The other boy—well, he could probably get out of the hole on his own, so Gregory wasn't going to worry about that.
He saw the crowd leaving church—he'd made it back in time. He went to his nanny's side—
"Where 'ave you been?" She demanded, walking him to the car the chauffeur had brought around. She climbed into the back of the vehicle, Gregory following suit.
"Well, I decided to go for a walk since our study ended early today," he lied easily and flashed his cutely charming smile—the nanny fell for it every time. She smiled at him and adjusted his blonde curls about his face dotingly. "I fell, and then I met a boy," he continued as she doted on him.
"Oh, you made a friend?" his nanny giggled, taking out a tissue and starting to clean dirt from his face.
"…Er… yes." He hadn't thought it like that at all—a friend? That boy was—well… it was possible. It might be nice to have a friend to rely on…He always had a hard time making friends with other kids his age, but maybe this time…
"Wot is 'is name?"
"Pardon--? Oh, his name? It's Christophe." Gregory smiled a bit. A friend. He'd have to go meet with that dirty boy again and at least try… He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes as the car headed home.
* * *
Author's Note: Bah that was a pain. Uh. These probably won't be in a time-line order… but I'll make some note somewhere of their ages 8D Here, they're both six. And in England. A few things to note:
-Gregory's nanny has a thicker accent, hence the reason I typed it.
-Schrod1ng3r is a goddess. XD Just throwing that out there.
There was more but I forgot. Anyways, thanks for reading! See you in ch.2!