A/N: Gary x Christophe. One is cynical, moody and completely anti-God. The other is so optimistic, happy and Mormon. No stories! I felt the need to write something. I am in no way denouncing Gregstophe; they are still one of my absolute favourite pairings, and without Gregory I'd have never thought of this.

COMPLETELY CRACK PAIRING!

Warning: Smut, swearing and violence... and blood fetishes.

-At school they taught me how to be, so pure in thought and word and deed, they didn't quite succeed. For everything I long to do, no matter when or where or who, has one thing in common, too, it's a sin- -Pet Shop Boys-

The first time Christophe met Gary, he was nine years old, and like always, he was doing something he really shouldn't have been doing.

Christophe grunted as he picked up the heavy metal box and struggled to drop it into the deep hole. It was nearly all over; all he had to do now was toss soil back over the top. Thankfully filling in a hole never took as long as making one. His dirty hands, with earth trapped forever under the fingernails, grabbed the splintered handle of his well used shovel. His eyes closed as he rhythmically slid the tool under the loose soil, lifted it up and then dropped it into the pit he'd made. He could hear the clanging against the metal at first, and then slowly the sound muffled. He was tired, but content in the knowledge he could nearly go home and rest.

From close in front of him, came an incredibly loud and chipper voice, each word it spoke rung through Christophe's head like a church bell on an early Sunday morning.

"Hey there! You look tired, could you use some help?" asked the boy, a wide, helpful smile on his face.

Christophe opened his eyes and scowled at the blond boy. "No, fuck off," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that," chimed the boy, his smile never wavering at Christophe's scowl. He moved closer, extending his arm for a handshake. "My name is Gary, I attend South Park Elementary. What's your name?"

Christophe stared down at the hand, and then up at Gary. He was not going to shake the hand; all he wanted to do was flatten the earth again. That was his mission. "I am ze mole, and I told you to fuck off."

Gary laughed. "That's a really interesting name, but surely it can't be your real name?"

Christophe pulled a cigarette out of his top pocket and sighed as he lit it up. "Non, zat ees not my real name, but people don't call me my real name, and I don't see why I should tell a beetch like you eet."

"Oh well I'm certainly not forcing you to tell me!"

"Good zen." Christophe banged the ground with his shovel one last time and then nodded, taking a drag on his cigarette. The blond kid still hadn't left him alone; his mind ran over the name. Gary... Gary Harrison was it? Was it the same kid from that Mormon family, with their stupid ideas, that had moved into town? "Hey, ees your surname 'Arrison?" he asked, glaring at Gary.

Gary smiled, he seemed unbothered that smoke was drifting into his face and that everything in the French sounding boy's attitude was negative. "It sure is! Have you heard of me? All good I hope!" He laughed, bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

Christophe smirked. "Well my name is Christophe DeLorne, Gary 'Arrison. And I think God is a cock-sucking asshole." Christophe threw his cigarette down on the soil and stepped on it, grinding it under his foot. "I will be going now." He turned around and walked away.

"Goodbye then, Christophe," called Gary, after him.

Christophe just carried on walking, thinking about how thankful he was that he and the Mormon went to different schools.

Gary and Christophe, of course, didn't stay in different schools forever. They both lived in the Park County area, and when they reached high school, their paths inevitably crossed again.

Completely ignoring the other person, they went about their years never once talking. They had remembered each other though, both for very different reasons.

Christophe frowned down on the blond. Gary was the boy who had seen him filling in that hole, and even before the Mormon arrived, that day would be etched in his memory. He'd observed Gary over the years, after hearing his name in class, and connecting it with the blond optimist he'd met that day. It shouldn't have been possible for someone to be so pure, and so happy about it.

Gary had stayed friends with Stan Marsh, and had even made friends with the other boys, who when they'd matured, saw what a great guy he was. He always listened extra hard when his friends mentioned the mercenary, because Christophe had always lingered at the back of his mind as the mysterious, cynical French boy. The rumours he'd heard over the years only concluded his theory that Christophe was probably a person he should avoid. There was something thrilling about Christophe though; he was the one bad thing Gary couldn't get enough of.

Gary's continuing obsession with the French boy, led him to follow him one inevitable day, when they were both seventeen. It was the first time he'd done anything like that. It was unbelievable that he even did it. What stopped all sense of reasoning in Gary's brain was that he saw the shovel. He hardly ever saw the shovel. Christophe had stopped carrying it around everywhere after elementary school, only taking it out of his room, (for he didn't trust the shed) when he actually needed to use it.

Gary's curiosity got the better of him.

His trailing led him to the same clearing in the forest where he'd met Christophe all those years previous. Whether it was a coincidence, fate, or something else, Gary would never know. All he knew was that one moment he was crouched behind a tree, and the next moment he was down on the ground, pain from shock pulsing through his body, as large dirty hands pushed on his shoulders.

"Do you think I didn't know zat you were following me here," growled Christophe as he slammed Gary's head down, "it ees my job to know zees things." His angry dark green eyes sent fear through Gary's body, as he lay submissive beneath.

"P-please don't hurt me," stuttered Gary, as his bright blue eyes opened wide in alarm.

"Zen tell me why you were following me!" snapped Christophe, but as he spoke, he loosened his grip on the boy's frame.

"You had the shovel! The shovel from all those years ago, I remember it so well and I wanted to see where you were going with it. I'm sorry for following you; I know it was terrible of me."

Christophe laughed maliciously. "You really think following people is terrible? Zen you must think I'm a monster." He let go of the blond boy and stood up. He seemed to deliberate something for a second, before offering a hand to Gary.

Gary stared into Christophe's eyes and took the hand, as Christophe helped him up. "No, I don't think you're a monster," he said, smiling faintly, "I don't think anyone's a monster."

Christophe just shook his head. "I see you're still so fucking optimistic, blondie. You really shouldn't be. Ze world ees a terrible place, because God wants people to suffer."

Completely ignoring the comment about God, which at that moment didn't bother him, Gary stared in shock at Christophe. "You remember me from all these years ago? You remember that I saw you here?"

"Yes, I remember you. You're so annoyingly chipper eet's hard not to." Christophe eyed Gary cautiously. "Do you remember what I was doing zat day?"

"Sure, you were filling in a hole. I assume you were burying something. Is that why you're here today? Are you going to dig it up?" Excitement filled his voice.

Christophe growled. There was no use in denying it, he had the feeling Gary wasn't going anywhere. "Oui." He scratched at his neck. "But I 'av a problem, I cannot remember where in zis area I buried eet. I usually mark ze tree nearest eet, but you came along, and I forgot." He scowled at Gary. "You don't even know 'ow much trouble you've caused me."

Gary's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Christophe, I would never want to cause you trouble. I'm sure if we look hard enough, we'll find it."

"Non, zis ees where you are mistaken, zere ees no 'we'. You are leaving."

Gary panicked and shoved his hands in his pockets. He breathed out slowly. "What if I told you I remember where the box is hidden?" A photographic memory was a very useful thing to have, but even without such help, Gary would have remembered everything about that day.

Christophe grabbed the blond's arms and stared into the stunned eyes. "Zen you must tell me."

Gary felt his breathing rate increase, and an unusual and definitely unwanted feeling run over him, as he felt Christophe's surprisingly warm hands and hot breath. "Only if you let me stay," he whispered.

Christophe growled, but gave in. "Fine zen. You tell me where eet ees and you stay."

Gary pointed a clammy hand towards a tree to the right of them. "It's under there."

The two boys dug for what felt like a long time. They said nothing as Christophe worked. Gary observed how expert Christophe was at digging, the now strong and toned muscles in his arms allowing the blade of the shovel to cut effortlessly through the ground. He was mesmerised as he watched the steady rhythm. The occasional grunts Christophe made when he hit a hard rock, or a tree root, sent a fluttering through Gary's stomach. He was scared and upset by this, but couldn't tear himself away from watching.

Eventually they found the metal box.

Christophe cried out in elation. "Oh thank ze beetch Lord I've found eet!"

Gary frowned. "Our Lord isn't a bitch Christophe."

Christophe threw the box over the side of the hole and pulled himself out. "He's not my Lord. You can worship ze faggot, but I don't."

"Don't call him that!" Gary had heard God being offended so many times over the years, he'd always ignored it, but hearing the hatred in Christophe's voice made him uncharacteristically angry.

Christophe smirked, in all the years he'd watched, Gary had never had this kind of reaction. "You want me to stop speaking ze truth? Even zough eet's a sin to lie."

"It's worse to denounce God! Besides you're not speaking the truth." Gary cast his head down, as his anger subsided and guilt replaced it. "But I don't want to argue with you." The last words were said with softness and regret, plus an edge of something else.

Christophe noticed the slight blush on Gary's face. "So what do you want to do?" he asked, moving closer. "Would you like to know what's inside my box?"

"Only if you want to tell me."

Christophe raised an eyebrow, and placed the box on the floor by his feet. "I'll show you eef you convince me." His eyes blazed as a fatal grin stretched across his mouth.

Unexpectedly, he grabbed Gary's waist and forcefully pulled the blond towards him, pressing their bodies and crushing their lips together. Gary let out a muffled squeal in shock, with a bright red face and shaking hands he tried to push away. He managed to fleetingly free his mouth from the wet and powerful attack. "C-Christophe, n-no, what are you doing?" he gasped, as confusion flooded his head.

The French boy's eyes glistened knowingly. "I'm just doing what zat blush on your face and zat look in your eye, when you think I'm not watching, tells me you want me to do."

Gary gasped, he couldn't deny his feelings for Christophe, but they were meant to be locked away, kept somewhere they'd never be discovered, not worn plainly across his face. He'd failed to hide them from the one person he needed them hid from, on the only time he'd been with the person. "I ermm... don't-"

Christophe shoved his lips against Gary's again, this time met with less resistance. He bit down on the lower lip, the pain to Gary was raw but so thrilling, he groaned as Christophe sucked at the tender area, drawing luscious tasting blood. The thrill of the moment overcame Gary and he did what he never should have done: he kissed back, even more hungrily, blood mingling with saliva, an exhilarating flavour. He knew that his morals were screaming at him to stop, just like his hormones were screaming at him to continue. All he wanted to do was ignore them, so he could properly enjoy the moment. He hardly knew Christophe, but what he did know was that this would soon approach extremely dangerous territory.

The French boy pushed Gary down onto the ground as he deepened the kiss, prying the less than reluctant mouth open with his tongue. He explored Gary's mouth, getting pleasure from the awkward but urgent desire of the boy. Gary's tongue battled with Christophe's as he fought to keep dirt covered hands away from his body. He still had some defences at that point. He was ready to stop at any time, just a few more precious seconds, and then he'd get out of there. The seconds turned into minutes. He began to pant as the kiss got longer, even deeper, and he lost the battle.

Christophe snaked his hand under Gary's shirt and up his smooth chest, flicking at the nipples and listening, with pleasure, to the groans this produced. Gary felt an overpowering yearning, an inability to stand up and get out of there. His head screamed at him to stop, for there were so many reasons, but his body would not listen, it endlessly ached for more contact, the desire consuming him to a point of no return. His crotch grew harder as his body continued to be explored and caressed, and the deep kissing never stopped.

Gary groaned as Christophe dropped his body fully, and ground their crotches together, he'd never experienced pleasure like it before, it was so sinfully blissful. "Ahhh, y-you should stop that," he whispered, but in a very unconvincing voice. Christophe chuckled and flicking Gary's nipples again, increased the pressure below the waist. The coarse material of his trousers created excellent friction, and it wasn't long until both boys were gasping frantically at the exhilaration running through their bodies.

They were grinding in the place Christophe had ground his cigarette all those years previous.

The pleasure was building. Ecstasy was pumping through Gary's trembling body; he involuntarily arched his hips, wanting more pressure, wanting more dirt. Christophe growled and pressed his lips to Gary's neck, sucking hard, he bit down on the delicate pale skin, as he continued to dry fuck the whimpering boy below him.

Gary knew that he was completely at the mercy of 'ze mole'. He was lying under a mercenary and praying that he would stop, whilst urgently clinging on in the hope that he would keep going. It was a battle of morals and hormones, and with the undeniable crush he had on the French boy, Gary knew his morals would never win. The thought would have made him sad and angry if he wasn't in such bliss.

"G-Garry you little sinner," groaned Christophe, as he bit and lapped at the boy's skin, claiming the neckline with harsh, unruly marks. His hands tangled in Gary's thick, blond hair, it ruffled into a mess beneath him, specks of dirt running through it. It looked so undeniably sexy to Christophe, who just adored wrecking anything that was perfect. That's what he was doing.

"N-No, I'm Urghhh g-good," moaned the blond as he wrapped his arms around Christophe's broad back, clinging on frantically as his head swirled and his vision blurred.

Christophe trailed his teeth along Gary's jaw. "No, you're bad."

Gary didn't have the ability to phrase a response. He couldn't take the ecstasy any longer and with a final blissful groan, he was thrown over the edge. He went dizzy, he saw patches of white and with a rapturous feeling he shot his load. "F-fuck," he panted, to Christophe's delight. He'd got the little Mormon to do so many sinful things, to get so excited, without even undoing his pants. Swearing only caused Christophe more delight, and he soon found himself groaning as he reached his edge.

They both lay low, bodies going limp and the feeling of ecstasy slowly slipping away. Gary loosened his grip on Christophe's jacket, allowing some space between them. Christophe looked into Gary's wide, innocent blue eyes and almost felt something, but a rustling through the trees stopped this moment dead. Christophe clamped his hand over Gary's mouth to silence the last of the groans, panting in fear.

"Tophe, are you here?" called a posh, eloquent voice, like a prince in a fairytale, the words almost sung.

"Sheet," whispered Christophe, flinging himself off Gary, and scrambling up. He pulled the blond boy up, and quickly brushed the dirt off the back of his jacket. He didn't do anything with his own, knowing that it would look stranger if there wasn't dirt on it. Gary zipped his light blue jacket up to the top, covering the satisfying but shameful damage on his neck.

Another blond appeared, striding with a natural grace into the clearing. He had such an overwhelming confidence, that he commanded you to look at him, and you couldn't help staring at his breathtaking beauty. He looked in bewilderment at Gary, who in returned plastered a forced smile to his face. If Gregory noticed Gary's flustered attitude, then he decided it wasn't important. He draped his arms around Christophe's neck, the same place Gary's had been only moments before. "I see you've found the box."

Christophe caressed Gregory's face delicately. "Oui," he looked over at Gary, "'Arrison was helping me."

Gregory scoffed. "What use would the Mormon be?"

Christophe shrugged. "He had his uses."

Gary felt ashamed and guilty, but most of all he felt coldly used. Christophe had said as much hadn't he? He forced himself to smile at the French boy, even though he wanted nothing more than to punch him hard, and make it hurt. He also felt dislike towards Gregory, and not just because of his attitude. Gregory was a reminder that not only had he indulged in sexual interaction with Christophe; he had also helped Christophe cheat. These were very big sins; these were not good things, even if they felt so good.

And now Christophe would go back to his gorgeous, perfectly kept, and rather flamboyant boyfriend, like nothing had ever happened. And Gary would be left feeling imperfectly soiled, forever regretting what he did. Well, he wasn't going to let Christophe see the regret.

"I need to go home now," he chimed.

"Why, are your family going to go give blood or something?" asked Gregory, with a sneer.

"No, tonight we volunteer at the homeless shelter," replied Gary, his voice as cheerful and optimistic as ever. "Goodbye, it was nice to see you, Gregory." Purposefully leaving Christophe's name out was about as mean as he could get. He wanted to go home, change his pants, and forget the whole thing, like he was sure the other boy would.

As Gary walked away, Gregory pressed his lips to Christophe's. "So are you going to tell me now what was so important that you felt the need to bury it in the ground for all those years?" he asked.

"Non," replied Christophe, as he stared at the place him and the blue-eyed blond had just been lying. He felt strangely guilty, but not for cheating on Gregory. All the guilt in him was for hurting Gary. He felt the need to show Gary what was in the box, because that had been the agreement after all, and more than that, he wanted an excuse to see him.

The Mormon wasn't escaping so easily.

A/N: Ta daaa, so that was ermm... Garstophe? I don't know...

Reviews would be seriously loved, because I'm not sure whether to make this into a two-shot or not... but I have an idea that I could, and I've obviously left it open... SO PLEASE REVIEW? :3