Chapter Text
It was nearing eight on a dark, stormy night when Bebe started brewing her love potion. She'd checked the weather report earlier to make sure there would be the right atmosphere. Madame Amour didn't state outright on her website (www.madameamourslovepotionsandspells.blogspot.com) that environmental conditions would effect the potion, but things like this tended to rely on ambiance in the movies, and considering this was her first time brewing it seemed safest to stick with what was tried and true.
She had really done her homework on this project. She wanted everything to be perfect. If all went well, she'd be on Kyle's arm at the next party, and maybe even junior prom. She and Wendy would finally have a matching set of boyfriends, and if going steady meant an end to all those rumors about her promiscuity, that was the icing on the cake. Plus it was a lot of goddamn fun to play witch. She lit another bundle of sage.
Someone banged on her door.
“Bebe! What's that smell? Are you smoking pot again, young lady? You just wait until your father gets home!”
“I'm practicing the dark arts, Mom!” Bebe said. “God, just leave me alone!”
“Well, I'm sure he'll have a lot to say about that, too!” Bebe's mom sighed. “At least open a window, honey!”
Bebe rolled her eyes but obeyed. A cool breath of stormy air flowed into the bedroom, making the flames on Bebe's ceremonial candles dance. She was glad she'd splurged on them at the dollar store. They were really elevating her witchiness to the next level. She took a deep breath through her nose.
According to Madame Amour, her potion was nearly finished. Crushed rosehips? Check. Salt water? Check. Worm guts (ew)? Check. She scrolled down her phone for the rest of the recipe.
Once the potion has been brewed in a cauldron over a wood fire (here Bebe had substituted a saucepan and hot plate) for 27 minutes, remove it from the heat and place it in the sacred circle – click here for a printable copy. Now, to confirm your intent, and form a bond between the brewer and recipient, stir your potion using your Very Important Object, seven times clockwise and three times counterclockwise, while speaking the final chant.
NOTE: It is of the utmost importance that you only give the potion to your true love. Anyone else and the potion will be ineffective.
Bebe scrolled past that. Kyle was the truest love she had at the moment. She wasn't collecting his hair and writing love poems about the guy but who else was she supposed to give it to? Clyde? She huffed and picked up her Very Important Object – a silver spoon she had 'borrowed' from a display cabinet in Kyle's dining room the last time she was over for tutoring. A Jewish star and Kyle's birthday were engraved on the handle, with a green bead inlaid at the top. It had probably been a gift from a friend or family member when he'd been born. Madame Amour recommended using a Very Important Object “with intimate significance” for the recipient and the spoon fit the bill.
Bebe cleared her throat and read Madame Amour's Passionate Love Chant aloud, stirring.
"My love for you burns like a fire
This spell, to help you feel desire
Your heart to mirror mine entire
Both flame as one, burn higher, higher!”
Immediately the potion bubbled, gave a small cough, and emitted a puff of pink smoke. Bebe squealed in delight and rushed back to her phone. Sure enough, Madame Amour had predicted the reaction.
Once the spell is complete, take something containing your essence, such as a strand of hair or small amount of saliva, and place it in the cauldron. Your potion will then release a cloud of pink smoke, and is now ready to be bottled and served. For best results, let chill and mix with juice before serving to avoid a bellyache.
Saliva? Yeah, right. Bebe was classier than that. She plucked a single hair from her head and tossed it into the cauldron. The potion didn't bubble further. She hmmed and hawed over it for a second. Wasn't something out of order?
The doorbell rang downstairs.
“Bebe!” her mother shouted. “Wendy is here to pick you up!”
No time to worry it over now. Bebe dipped a travel-sized bottle from Target into her cauldron, popped it into her purse, and pulled her boots on. She rushed downstairs to greet Wendy with a hug and a smile.
Besides, she had a really good feeling about tonight.
“Here, have another piece,” Kenny said. He practically shoved a chiclet into Kyle's mouth and scanned the area. “Stay minty fresh. She could pop up at any second. You need to be ready.”
“Knock it off, Ken,” Kyle said. He shoved Kenny's hand away. “I don't need it.”
“Just trying to help a bro out,” Kenny said. “A party near Stark's Pond? A slightly chilly night? This is primetime for hook-ups.”
“Shouldn't you be out there trying to get some then?” Kyle said, quirking an eyebrow. He gestured with his beer to the fire-pit Token and Clyde had dug earlier. Most of their classmates were laughing and downing drinks, or leading each other by the hand to a more private spot. Stan had his coat around Wendy's shoulder, cozying up on a log by the fire.
“That's all too much pressure for me,” Kenny said. “I've struck out too many times.” He counted off on his fingers. “Last Friday Annie slapped me for making a comment about her cleavage, then Lola kicked me in the shin, and then Red spit in my face. Can you believe that? Right in my face. Actually, I'm kind of falling for her.” He mouthed 'call me' at Red and she glared at him. “But your thing with Bebe is a sure bet! She's crazy about you, man.”
“That's the problem,” Kyle said. “She puts it on so thick! It feels too fake.”
“I get it,” Kenny rolled his eyes, “you like the wholesome girl-next-door types and you think Bebe wears too much make-up. But what's the harm in hooking up with Bebe once or twice? You'd get some good experience.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Kyle said. He took a sip of his beer and zipped his dark green jacket a little higher. “I don't know. I'll see how the night goes, I guess.”
“Atta boy,” Kenny patted him on the back. “Now go get us a couple more beers! Let's party!”
Kyle shook his head but smiled and headed near the fire. Wendy had brought her dad's old tailgating cooler and filled it with as much Miller High Life as it could hold. He was leaning over to pull a few out for him and Kenny when Bebe sidled up to him.
“Hey, Kyle,” she said, smiling. Kyle winced.
“Oh, hey Bebe,” he said. He gave her a once-over; she did look nice tonight, wearing an awfully low-cut shirt. “Aren't you cold?”
“Sure am,” she said. “Might need some warming up later on.” She peered at him from under her eyelashes.
“Right,” Kyle said. “Anyway, I've gotta go bring these over to Kenny, so--”
“Oh, you're drinking that shit?” Bebe made a face. “Blegh! Here, I made you a mixed drink!”
She pulled out a red solo cup from behind her back. Kyle peered inside. The drink was a bright, suspicious pink. It almost looked neon. Kyle gulped.
“What's in it?” he asked.
“Don't worry about that!” Bebe grinned so wide it looked like it hurt her face. “It's my special recipe. Believe me, you'll love it.” She grabbed the beer from Kyle's hand and thrust the cup towards him. “Just try it!”
“Well,” Kyle said. He glanced back at Kenny, who gave him a firm thumbs-up. “I guess I am getting a little sick of Miller.” Bebe nodded quickly.
“Exactly!” she said. “Go ahead! Drink it.”
Kyle sighed and squinted into the cup again. He swore it was bubbling now. He looked at Bebe's eager face. Stan and Wendy were still canoodling by the fire. What was the harm in having a little fun for himself, like Kenny said? Once he had a few more drinks, he could see himself with a hand up Bebe's skirt and a little more experience under his belt. That wouldn't be so bad.
“Yeah, okay,” Kyle said. “Why not?”
He took a sip of Bebe's drink. Bebe did a subtle fist pump.
It tasted almost-- slimy. Kyle cringed and rolled the feeling around in his mouth. Something was not right. Maybe Bebe's ingredients had gone bad. Then his vision flashed pink and a sharp pain shot through his chest.
“You okay?” Bebe said. She struck a seductive pose and batted her eyelashes. “Feeling anything... different?”
Kyle clutched his belly. Whatever was in that drink, it was sloshing around in his stomach now, and Kyle felt like it was burning his insides. He felt a horrible aching around his heart and nearly keeled over.
“Yeah, uh,” he said, “excuse me for one second.” He ran off still holding his stomach.
“Damn,” Bebe swore under her breath, “I should've chilled it.”
Kyle stumbled to the water's edge and stopped, hands on his knees, nauseous enough he thought he might puke. Kenny came up next to him.
“Dude, what happened?” he said. “Don't tell me you chickened out.”
“No, I-- I don't know,” Kyle said. “I just felt awful. She gave me this drink.”
“Oh yeah,” Kenny said, “she always makes 'em too strong.”
“It wasn't that,” Kyle said, “it was like-- like--”
He froze at the sound of someone laughing off to his left.
“Ky?” Kenny said.
“Sorry,” Kyle said absently. He felt like he was being tugged to the source of that laugh. That familiar laugh. “I have to-- go.” He took off jogging.
“Hey, wait up!” Kenny called and followed suit.
Kyle scanned the area in the dark, eyes flitting around urgently, desperate to find that voice, that person. He knew that person.
“Aw c'mon, Eric, can't I have just one sippa gin?
At the edge of the pathway leading down to the water, Butters was sitting on the ground, leaning against Jimbo's old fishing boat, talking to Cartman. Kyle's stomach dropped.
Cartman.
“No can do, Butters,” Cartman said. He was carving his initials into the boat with his pocket knife, a half-empty bottle of gin by his side. “This is real top-shelf stuff. I heard they have Miller to spare by the fire.”
Never in his life had Kyle felt so angry, so desperate, and so passionate all at once. Just the sight of Cartman was making his blood boil, his palms itch. And the most frustrating part was how much distance was between them. He stomped up to Cartman and glared down at him.
“Get up,” he said. He was seething, his fists trembling.
Cartman looked up at him in surprise.
“Okay, before you say anything,” Cartman said, “Clyde was the one who thought it would be funny to switch out your gym shirt with one of Teresa's crop tops, not me. I just gave him the combination to your locker.”
“Just. Get. Up.”
Kenny caught up with him, panting.
“What's going on?” he wheezed. Butters shrugged, eyes wide.
“Now Kyle,” Cartman said, “is it really worth getting so upset over--”
Kyle charged at him and pushed him up against the nearest tree. Butters grabbed the gin bottle and turned tail toward the fire pit.
“Traitor!” Cartman croaked. “Listen, Kyle, let's just talk this out!”
“Whoah, chill Ky!” Kenny said. “What the hell did you do this time, fat-ass?”
“Nothing!” Cartman said.
“Shut up,” Kyle growled. He leaned in closer and took in the sight of Cartman's face. The soft curve of his jaw. His fussed-over hair. His smooth skin and honey-brown eyes. Kyle breathed in and closed his eyes.
Cartman smelled so, so good.
“Are you drunk or what?” Cartman said fearfully. “Hands off!”
“What kind of cologne are you wearing?” Kyle said
“What?”
“Answer the question.” Kyle moved in even closer, breathing down Cartman's neck.
“Funny story about that,” Cartman said. Kyle glared at him so intensely he thought he might set Cartman on fire. He couldn't look away.
“Tell. Me,” Kyle said.
“Er,” Cartman said, “Wonderstruck by Taylor Swift?”
Kyle inhaled deeply through his nose. It wasn't just the perfume. It was something underneath it, some other different smell. Cartman's smell.
“You smell amazing,” Kyle sighed. Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny all froze.
“Say whaaat?” Kenny said.
Cartman blinked rapidly. Kyle could see the gears in his head turning.
“I have to go,” Kyle said. He let go of Cartman like he'd been burned and stared at his hands. They were still tingling from where they'd touched Cartman's skin. He gave one last long, lingering gaze at Cartman and ran in the opposite direction. Kenny stood next to Cartman with his face slack.
“I swear I didn't do anything,” Cartman said. He watched Kyle go.
Bebe was giggling with Red near the docks when Kyle came up to them, eyes wild.
“Kyle!” Bebe said, shoving Red away. “Feeling better?” Red rolled her eyes and stumbled toward the cooler, flipping Bebe off.
“No,” he said, “Bebe, what the hell did you put in that drink?” He grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Oh, Kyle,” she giggled, “not in public.”
“What? Listen, something very bad is happening to me,” Kyle said. His face was turning green. He thought about Cartman's smirk. “I just tried to--
“Yes?” Bebe said, leaning in.
“I just tried to kiss Cartman!” Kyle yelled. Bebe gasped.
“Cartman?” Bebe said. “No no no, that can't be right!” She bit her fingernails. “Cartman had nothing to do with my love potion!” She slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Your what?” Kyle said. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. You didn't.”
“It was for me,” Bebe said frantically, “it was supposed to make you like me!”
“I-I need to sit down,” Kyle said. He tried to clear his mind but it was full to the brim of thoughts of Cartman, Cartman, Cartman. And every time Kyle thought of him, his heart ached over and over. An omnipresent need burning deep in his chest. And now he knew what it was: love. Kyle thought he might cry. He wanted Cartman. He just wanted him. Kyle sunk to his knees, unable to stand any longer.
“I'll go get Stan,” Bebe said and rushed off.
By the time Bebe retrieved Stan, Kenny had caught up with them. He had apparently tracked Butters down and said he'd tell his dad he was out drinking if he didn't drive Cartman home right away. Stan and Kenny helped Kyle into Stan's car and Bebe, the only one sober enough to not wrap them around a tree, drove them to Stan's house. They gathered in his living room.
“Okay,” Stan said, “let's start from the beginning here.” He went up to his bedroom and retrieved an easel, whiteboard, and and dry erase markers and brought them downstairs.
“Aren't you prepared,” Bebe said.
“This ain't our first rodeo,” Kenny said. “Right, Ky?”
“Right, Cartman,” Kyle said. “I mean Eric. I mean, what?"
“So Bebe,” Stan sighed. “You made Kyle drink a love potion.” He drew a heart on the board and a little green square next to it. Beside that he drew an arrow pointing down to the bottom of the board. He took a moment to draw flames and label it HELL, and place a red square with devil horns in the center. “And it made him fall in love with Cartman.”
Kyle stifled a sob.
“It wasn't supposed to make him love Cartman,” Bebe said, “it was supposed to make him love me! Cartman had nothing to do with it.”
“So for once, it isn't Cartman's fault.” Stan drew a question mark next to Cartman's demon square. “So the question is, when did he get involved?”
“I have no idea,” Bebe said. “I followed the recipe perfectly.” She winced. “Well, not perfectly. I mean, I substituted a saucepan for a cauldron. And a hot plate for a wood fire.” Kenny put his head in his hands. “What? It was my first time!”
“Okay,” Stan sighed. “So there's some room for error there.”
“Where did you find this recipe?” Kyle asked urgently. “Online?"
“Yeah,” Bebe said. “Madame Amour's Love Potions and Spells.”
“Sounds legit,” Kenny said. Bebe flipped him off.
“So first things first, we need to read the recipe and figure out what went wrong. And who knows!” Kyle said. “Maybe Madame Fleur--”
“Amour,” Bebe said.
“Madame Amour will have a recipe for the antidote, too!”
“Yeahhh, about that,” Bebe said. The boys looked at her. “She only lists one way to reverse the potion's effects on her website.” She twirled a strand of her hair. “It'll wear off after the pursuer and the recipient, ah. Sleep together.”
Kenny had a coughing fit. Kyle went white as a sheet.
“Jesus Christ,” Stan said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “okay, never bring that up again. We are not-- that's not happening.”
“Wait,” Kyle said, “Bebe said the pursuer and the recipient. Isn't Bebe technically the pursuer? Maybe if we slept together, the spell would wear off!” He looked at Bebe desperately.
“The pursuer is supposed to be the person you fall in love with,” Bebe said, “and whatever happened, it seems like the potion thought that was Cartman. Besides, I'm not sleeping with you while you're in love with someone else. What if you call me Cartman during sex?” She shivered.
“Here're the ingredients,” Kenny said, reading them off his phone. Kyle hovered over his shoulder. “Rosehips, salt water, worm guts?” He raised an eyebrow. Bebe shrugged. “Nothing I'd associate with Cartman. Well, the worm guts maybe.”
“Give me that,” Kyle said. He pulled the phone out of Kenny's hands and scrolled through the rest of the recipe. “Here, the Very Important Item. What did you use? Maybe you used something you thought was mine, but was really Cartman's.”
“No,” Bebe mused, “that baby spoon was definitely yours. I took it from your house less than a week ago.”
“You stole from me?” Kyle asked, incredulous.
“I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think it would turn out like this!” Bebe's eyes watered. “I just wanted to go out on a date with you!”
“Then ask me out like a normal person!” Kyle yelled.
“Did you say baby spoon?” Everyone looked at Kenny, who shrank back. “The one from the display cabinet in Kyle's dining room?”
“Yeah,” Bebe said, “that one. How did you know?”
“Shit,” Kenny said. He rubbed his temples. “Okay. So, on Monday, me and Cartman stopped by your house after school. Remember that, Ky?”
“Yes,” Kyle said. The memory of Cartman in his house made his whole body tense up. “You wanted to see if I could hang out.”
“Where was I?” Stan said.
“Off with Wendy most likely,” Kenny said. “Anyway, you said you couldn't because Bebe was coming over for tutoring and even though I was giving you the green light 'cause I'm all about you getting that nut, Cartman threw a total bitch fit. He went off on this rant about how Bebe was good breeding stock that shouldn't be tainted by Jewish blood. The most un-PC I've heard him get in a while. He got you all riled up and you were having a classic screaming match until your dad came downstairs and told you both to shut the hell up. You stormed up to your room and said if Cartman didn't want a broken nose he'd be out of your house by the time you came back down. So Cartman left. But before he did--” Kenny gave Kyle a sympathetic frown, “--he took your spoon from the display cabinet and licked it. You know. As a kind of petty 'fuck you'.”
“Wow,” Bebe said, “I think that's the longest I've ever heard you talk, Kenny.” Kenny blushed.
“Kenny,” Kyle cried, “how could you let him do that?”
“Shockingly, I didn't foresee this turn of events,” Kenny said. He yawned.
“Don't yawn!” Kyle said. “We need to figure this out!” Stan put a hand on his shoulder.
“I'm sorry, Kyle, but it's past four,” he said, looking at his phone. “And we did figure it out. We know Cartman licked the spoon, and we know we need to find out how to reverse the potion.”
“Exactly! Which is why we need to contact Madame Amour right now!” Kyle said.
“Not even someone who writes a witch blog is gonna be awake at four in the morning,” Bebe said.
“You guys can crash here,” Stan said. “I'll get the air mattress we have upstairs.”
Kyle stared in horror as Bebe, Kenny, and Stan got busy finding blankets and pillows.
“No,” Kyle begged, “come on guys, please!”
“Sorry, Ky,” Kenny said, squeezing his arm. “We need to sleep off the booze. But don't worry, okay? We'll figure it out tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll keep Cartman as far away from you as possible.”
Stan went up to bed. Bebe curled up on the couch with Stan's fluffiest blanket. Kyle and Kenny lay head-to-foot on the air mattress. Long after Bebe and Kenny had fallen asleep, Kyle stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of Cartman still fluttered through his mind. How funny he was, how much he fussed over his appearance, how good his maroon hoodie looked on him. How much Kyle wanted to be lying on his chest, breathing in his smell, feeling his warm body. Kyle clutched his blanket around himself and hoped Kenny wouldn't keep true to his word.