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"Ooh man, did you guys see these rockin' hot titties on page twelve?"
Butters hums along to Lu Lu Lu as his best friend leans so close to the double spread of their stolen Playboy magazine, his nose brushes the glossy paper. Clyde makes a sad sound because he can't see the page, and Butters has to fight the urge to lean forward and pat his shoulder consolingly, instead drawing his attention back to the screen of his DS, where he's playing his brand new Animal Crossing game. He figures it must be hard, thinking of sex so much that it makes you turn into... well, whatever his friends are right now.
Horny teenagers, or something.
He went through the phase of being obsessed with girls from class and naked ladies way back when he was nine - and hey, that's a whole five years ago, now! - but since then, he's sort of gotten over it. After all the curiosity first wore off, he didn't feel much excitement about the entire thing. Honestly, you just stick it in when it gets hard, hump a little and then— bam!
It doesn't take much effort or thought, really, does it?
Now love, on the other hand... Butters smiles down at the little screens, even as Stanley shuffles forward on the clubhouse floor and yanks Kenny away from the page by the back of his hood. (How Kenny's even still wearing his parker in this heat is a mystery, since the rest of them are all in short sleeves or, at the very most, button down shirts.) "Dude, that's not cool Kenny. You've gotta share."
"Y-yeah guys, w-w-w-we've only got the one magazine for the lot of us. We should all take turns. Work t-together," says Jimmy, and hey, ain't that a nice sentiment? Even if it does sound a little (incredibly) gay. Butters may be all about the love and acceptance, but imagining all his friends giving each other 'helping hands' is a little bit... no, thank you.
Turns out Butters isn't the only one who has this thought.
"Dude, that's super fucking faggy," says Eric where he's plopped his big old butt down on a pillow in one corner of the room, stuffing handfuls of Cheesy Poofs in his mouth between noisy slurps of Double Dew. "No offence, bros," he adds on to Tweek and Craig, who're sat together on the old mattress they all found in the U-Store parking lot at the beginning on summer, and hauled all the way through the woods to Stan's uncle's cabin. (Tweek had refused to sit on it 'cause of the germs or something, right up 'til Craig had taken off his jacket and spread it out for him. Now that's cute.)
"What's wrong with being gay?" says Craig, and Butters pauses, looking up. He sounds kind of testy, and is scowling awful fiercely, where his arm is thrown around Tweek's shoulders. Both boys look sickly and tired, and Tweek's been extra quiet all day long. Butters figures it must be because this is their first day back together since Craig went and visited his Gran. (That thought makes him smile, because being with the people you love after a long time apart is one of the very best feelings ever.)
Eric holds his sticky orange hands up in surrender. "Whoa Craig, whoa! Don't go insinuating I'm a homophobe or something, bro. Because I'm not. I'm totally fine with two guys wanting to do all that butt stuff together."
"Then don't be a dick about it, fatass," says Kyle, who's lying on the wooden floor with a load of school notes spread out in front of him, mostly ignoring the group. Well, except for Token, since they're working on some Math prep together. "You mention it at least twenty times a day, and it's getting old. We don't care enough about your repressed sexual insecurities to want to hear your constant bitching."
Ooh. Well said, Uncle Kyle.
Face growing redder by the second, Cartman looks almost like a sunburnt elephant seal, if Butters tilts his head to one side and squints. (He does just that, and then giggles into his hand because it works.)
He doesn't consider himself to be a real fan of violence, but when it comes to people beating the snot out of Eric (and occasionally vice-versa, depending on who it is), he makes a rare exception. Especially as Kyle's got a lot of secret moves Cartman's almost never fast enough to block. Unfortunately though, Stanley goes and butts in before it has a chance to evolve into anything more exciting.
"Jesus Christ, you guys, can't you just stop fighting with each other for two minutes?"
"Yeah seriously, if anyone's acting gay here, it's you two. Palpable tension, man," says Kenny, and Butters can just feel the waggle of his eyebrows and his silly, toothy grin.
As if in reply to that, Butter's own smile widens.
"Dude, sick," says Eric. "I would never be a homosexual butt-pirate for the Jew. I'd have taste. I don't like backstabbing, money grubbing day walkers."
"Yeah, and I resent the suggestion I'd ever want to touch a fat lump of lard like him. I'm surprised Heidi doesn't lose entire limbs to his jelly rolls."
"Aye. Shut your Goddamn Jew mouth before I kick you square in the nuts."
"Ooh, kinky," says Kenny.
Butters doesn't bother muffling his laughter, and it rings through the room, along with Jimmy's chuckle and Clyde's snort.
Apparently that's too much teasing for Cartman to take, because he hauls himself up on his dumpy little legs, shoves all of his junk in his bag and, so red he rivals a nice, shiny apple, waddles over to squeeze himself out through the door. "You know what? I don't have to deal with this kind of verbal abuse. In fact, I won't. Just you guys wait – I'll go get you in so much trouble for bullying and, and falsifications and slander that you'll never be able to show your faces in town again...!"
Eric's indignant shouting is lost on the wind as he stomps right back out into the forest (which is pretty impressive, Butters thinks, since there's hardly a breeze today at all), and in the quiet that follows, everyone seems to release nice, long sigh. No one wanted to spend the last day of summer break before freshman year in a stuffy, confined space with Eric Cartman.
"Th-th-th-thank fuck for that," says Jimmy, reclining more into his stolen desk chair.
By the way almost everyone grunts or hums, it seems they're all in agreement. The quiet that follows feels a lot more peaceful, and Butters is just looking down at his screen and debating whether he wants to buy his character the green beanie or the purple sunglasses when—
"For the record, there's nothing fucking wrong with liking guys," says Craig, and it's like a shotgun ringing through the silence.
Blinking, Butters looks up at the other boy, where his hand is gripping hard at Tweek's shoulder and his face is pale with anger. Tweek, who's tucked right up against him, is looking all twitchy and nervous, like a startled bunny rabbit.
Butters frowns, because seeing scared animals is one of the most upsetting things in the entire world to him.
"W-well, 'course there isn't, bud," he says, piping up for the first time in a long time. "It's perfectly normal to like fellas, just as much as girls. Besides, everyone's a little bit gay for someone." And only homophobes and religious freaks, like the sort that ran Camp New Grace, would deny that.
(As a rule, Butters doesn't trust anyone that doesn't share this ideology. Especially not after he'd seen what it had done to one of his closest friends, Bradley. Just for being a gay, the guy had been stuck in hell and had turned into a nervous, suicidal wreck, even though he was perfectly normal. Because of what his parents did to him as a kid, he's still a bit weird when they speak online these day.)
"Like Stan's kind of got a crush on Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain," says Kyle, neatly drawing the attention away from the unhappy looking couple.
"Dude!" Stan screeches, and Butters has to reach up to rub his ear. Boy, can that fella shout. Owie. "I mention to you once about the acting in that movie being good. Once." He's got his hands braced on his knees, and he's actually looking away from Miss November's joker lips, which Butters is kind of impressed with. That must take a lot of effort, considering how intently Clyde is still studying the picture.
"'Ohhh, the tent scene, Kyle, you should have seen it dude, ahhh, the emotions, oh yeah, every line, so passionate, mmm.'" Kenny moans and pants with such gusto for his impersonation of Stan that Butters feels his cheeks getting a little hot.
"Golly," Butters says, the word escaping as a peep that has Kenny looking briefly over his shoulder with a wink. (But that just makes him blush harder.)
The silly blonde doesn't get much of a chance to do anything more than that though, because a moment later Stan's regained himself enough to try socking him in the head. The two friends go down in a tangle of flailing limbs and swearing.
"That is not what happened," Stan shouts as they tussle, almost upsetting some of the papers that Token's writing on. The boy snatches them up off the floor as the two of them roll past, Kenny's goofy chortling filling the small hut in between suggestive moans and swearwords that Butters is sure would get them grounded for life, were their parents to hear them.
Two minutes later, most of the other fellas seem to have grown sick of the roughhousing. Token and Kyle have retreated to the far wall, papers safely piled in their laps, and Jimmy's crutches have gone clanking across the floor when then knocked his desk chair spinning.
"Man, quit it already," Clyde says, whining as a boot comes out of nowhere and knocks him upside the head. He ends up grabbing the boot in question and yanking hard enough that Stan, who's currently giving Kenny a noogie, slips back down to the floor and cracks his head hard against the floorboards.
While the bigger boy is stunned, Kenny slips away, hood down and straw colored hair standing up in fifty different directions. His cheeks are pink and his breathing's labored, but it's the way his eyes are all lit up, that Butters really likes. He skips across the floor to the mattress, and with all the ease in the world sinks down on the far side of Tweek, like he doesn't even notice Craig's death glare. Which maybe isn't so healthy, since Kenny's sort of the last ever person who should mess around with that sort of stuff, if what he's always saying is to be believed. (And Butters has never not had a reason to believe anything serious that comes out of his mouth, no matter how silly it sounds.)
Somehow Stanley manages to sit up, though there's lots of head rubbing and loud cursing that Butters doesn't really approve of.
"Y'know, pinning me to the floor and having your way with me didn't really help your argument, pookums," says Kenny from beyond Tweek's hunched up shoulder. When Stan makes to get up, Kenny ducks further down and throws his hands up high in the air. "Okay, okay. Have mercy. I got it. I'm sorry. You're as het as they come."
Watching Stanley deflate is sort of funny, once the danger of Kenny being throttled has passed. The jock pulls himself back against the closest wall and, frowning down at the floor, fiddles with one sleeve. "Sure I'm het – I mean, I'd be crazy not to be, since I got someone like Wendy – but... I didn't say I don't get, like, man crushes dude. Just not on fucking Heath Ledger."
Butters thinks it's cute how Kyle sits up straighter right then. He's always thought there might be a little somethin' sweet between those two, but he can't be sure, and it really ain't his place to presume either way. "Oh, what, so you like the other cowboy instead? Jake Gyllenhaal?"
Their eyes meet across the room and Butters has to hold back a giggle as he imagines sparks flying out between them.
"Maybe I do, dude."
(How the Asian girls didn't pick up on these two is a mystery, 'cause really.)
Clyde snorts, happily sharing the dirty magazine with Jimmy, now that Stanley and Ken aren't playfighting. "You're crazy, man. Heath Ledger was fucking hot. Did you guys even see him in that chick film? The high school one where he's the bad boy." When he gets given the side-eye by the good majority of the room, he shrugs easily, not phased. That's what Butters likes about Clyde – he doesn't mind being in touch with his gentler side like most of the boys do. It's why girls have always liked him at school. (Well, that and his dad owns the best shoe shop in South-South – maybe even Park County. That helps.) "What? It's a classic. And who doesn't like a troublemaker? He got the girl and the bike and the jacket. Pretty sweet, if you ask me."
"That's just you wanting to be him, man," says Token. "Not wanting to do him."
He shrugs and flips the page. "Close as I've ever got to batting for the other team."
"Not me," says Kenny, stretching out on the mattress and propping himself up on his elbows. "I play it both ways. Girls, guys, all the same to me. Hell, give me a bit of both rolled into one and I'd have a fucking ball."
"Could've fooled me, with the way you go on about tits all the time," uncle Kyle says, all snarky.
"Shit, can't a guy have his preferences? What isn't to like about boobies? They're big and squishy and just think of getting your face in there and... brrrr!" He mimes what Butters assumes is meant to be blowing a raspberry on some poor lady's bosom.
"Hell, yeah," Jimmy says with a grin and an enthusiastic thumbs up that Kenny fires right back at him.
"You're fucked up," says Craig, shuffling further away from Kenny on the mattress and dragging Tweek along too. (The little blonde doesn't seem to mind, since he's staring at Kenny like a deer in the headlights.)
"Aw, what for, Tucker? Titties really gross you out that much? You got it bad for the boys, huh. Since you're not a boob man, I take it you like a bit of legs? A nice, perky butt? You can do the same thing there, you know. Just use your tongue a little more." He pokes the very tip of his out of his mouth, and ducks away with a snicker as Tweek gives a particularly violent twitch.
Butters frowns. This is the side of Ken that he's a little less enamoured with – the side that always pushes things just that bit too far.
Here's a prime example: Craig doesn't look like he's having a good time. Just sort of like he wants to bash Kenny's head off the wall. "I like a bit of mind your fucking business, McCormick."
In fear of a real fight breaking out, Butters steps in this time. "N-now Ken, that really ain't very nice of you. We've all got our preferences, but not everyone's comfortable sharin', okay?"
Kenny's smile drops in a second, and the look he levels Butters makes his belly do a weird little flip-flop. All low brows and deep blue eyes. The sort of look a starving man would give a plate of food from Bennigan's.
But hunger makes people – especially Kenny – do dumb things.
"What about you then, my dude? Are you too shy to share what you like?" He says to him, and then tears his eyes away just as soon as Butters is starting to feel breathless. Ken leans in close to Tweek, and faux-whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, "Me? I like other blondes. The natural kind." Looks down the length of Tweek's body and winks.
Craig leans over and shoves Ken so hard he goes rolling right off the end of the mattress with a whump.
All flustered and hot 'round the collar, Butters can't help but think he deserves it. Poor Tweek looks like someone's just told him Ken's got leprosy. Still, the way Craig's all tense is making Butters nervous for his best friend, stupid as he's being. He decides to take one for the team and just get it out there.
"Fine, you— you big dumby. What I find, you know... 'sexy', is love."
There's silence.
Every single person lifts their heads up from what they're doing to look at him funny.
"Dude," says Stan.
"Lame," says Clyde.
"Aurgh. Jesus Christ," says Tweek.
It's fine, though. Butters is used to being looked at like he's a weirdo. These days it doesn't do much to him at all.
"What, so you fellas are tellin' me you'd rather blindly go on humpin' whatever's in front of you? Put your wiener in the nearest hole? No thank you," he says, dropping his DS in his lap and crossing his arms. "Sex means nothing unless you got the spark, and you only get a good one when you're in love." He catches Kenny ogling at him from where he's still splayed across the floor, like Butters just said the weirdest thing he ever heard. "What? You gonna tell me you didn't feel that way about Tammy Warner back in Elementary, mister? 'Cause the way you went on about that gosh darn hummer almost the whole year made it sound like she was some sorta goddess."
"That's because she was," says Kenny.
"Aside from the syphilis," Kyle adds in flatly.
"Aside from the syphilis," his best friend concurs.
Well, whatever, he thinks with a frown. Kenny can just go on wasting his time on dirty, messy sex with big-boobied ladies then, 'cause he's sure as heck not gonna get any of that from Butters. He's just lost his right to star in Butters' happy dreams.
After a moment of Butters glaring at his knee and feeling like he's talking to a bunch of cabbages instead of all his best buddies, Token pipes up.
"Actually, I agree with Butters," he says slowly, like he's been giving it real thought. The blonde's scowl disappears. He should have guessed that if anyone in the clubhouse shared that sentiment it would be Token, who went and got himself Nichole when they were nine, and hasn't looked at anyone else since. (That's the kind of love you see in the movies, Butters thinks. Real childhood sweethearts. His heart melts a little when he looks at Token's smile.) "I don't think I'd ever want to do anything with anyone but Nichole. It just wouldn't feel right, you know?"
Clyde scoffs. "No."
"Get over it, man," says Token, apparently done with Clyde's comments. "You've been in love with Bebe since we were in Kindergarten, but she won't have you. You'd probably have an aneurism if you ever got with her."
"Y-yeah," Butters agrees. "You're just jelly 'cause you can't have the girl you love."
"I'm not in love with Bebe," Clyde says, but really, Butters thinks those flaming red cheeks are telling a different story.
"I mean, c-come on, who isn't a l-l-little in love with her, fellas?" asks Jimmy, apparently trying to help Clyde out. Personally, Butters thinks he's not doing that fine a job, after what comes out his mouth next. "Who doesn't w-wanna Bebe-bend her over a table?" He grins at his own joke, like he's made the funniest play on words ever. (Not his best crack at comedy, in Butters opinion. Jimmy doesn't seem to agree, though, so at least there's that.) "Wow, what a great audience," he says into the unimpressed silence.
"Kinda reaching there, dude," Kyle says after a few drawn out moments of silence, one long eyebrow raised.
It's only in the stilted quiet that Butters realizes Kenny didn't jump in at the mention of sex like he usually does. He turns to peer across the room at his best of friends, and feels a thrill shoot up his spine.
Ken's still staring at him.
Heart doing a funny little skip in his chest, he snatches up his DS and pulls it close to his face so fast, he bonks himself on the nose with it - then gets on with playing Animal Crossing like nothing out of the ordinary just happened at all.
But the thing is, Ken's not a dumb guy. Never has been.
He looks an awful lot like he's figured out what Butters was implying.
...
Around dinnertime, all the boys start picking themselves up and making their excuses to leave.
"It's Taco Tuesday," says Clyde with a shrug and a pouty face, before he slouches out the door.
(He's still all flustered about the Bebe comments, Butters thinks. Cute dumb boy.)
"I promised mom and Nichole I'd go to the movies with them tonight," Token says about half an hour later, with a sigh. Jimmy goes with him, and can be heard giving a break down of his latest comedy routine as they walk out into the bright summer evening together. Poor Token – the fella won't get a lick of peace right up 'til bedtime, by the sounds of it.
Stan and Kyle clamber to their feet while they argue over a current environmental activism scandal that Butters thinks might have something to do with three-toed sloths, so caught up they don't even think to say goodbye, and Craig and Tweek follow them out. Craig turns to shoot Kenny one last angry look, as if he might say something more, when Tweek distracts him by tripping through the doorway and almost going headfirst straight down the stairs.
The door swings shut on a panicked, "Shit, babe, you alright?"
Inside the clubhouse, it's silent.
Kenny's moved back onto the mattress with the magazine, and Butters sits in the exact same spot he's been in for the whole day. He hasn't gotten very far into his game no matter how hard he's tried to focus on it, though, because he's so darn aware of his best buddy glancing at him every other minute.
Now, Butters likes to consider himself a patient boy when it comes to the people he cares about, but when eight o'clock comes and goes and Ken's still not spat it out, he decides enough's enough.
Sliding the stylus back into its place on the base of the console and saving his game, he switches it off. Sets it down to one side.
Stares at Kenny with his arms crossed until his best friend finally looks up.
"Well?" says Butters, in the sharp tone of voice he saves for when they're alone, and Ken's acting like a wiener.
"Okay, okay," Kenny says with a sigh, getting to his feet and slouching his way across the empty room. He sinks down beside Butters and goes to tug his hood back up over his head the way he does whenever he feels awkward.
Butters slaps his hand away before he gets the chance, and his best friend sends him a playful glower that very quickly disappears.
"So," says Kenny, picking at his nail.
"So," says Butters, watching him.
"You like me."
"Nope," he says easily, like his heart isn't beating so hard it's doing a funny little jig. "I love you. Like Kiara loves Kovu, or... or Rapunzel loves Eugene, or—"
"You have a crush," Kenny cuts in over the top. "That's all it is."
He can't help it – he has to chuckle a little at Kenny's insistence. All his friends are cute at times (well, maybe except for Eric), but Kenny is the cutest of them all. His friend's scrunched up face says he doesn't know what to make of this reaction.
That's fine. Butters can spell it out.
"I love you." He repeats it even easier this time. It's the truth, so why would he be embarrassed? "I've loved you for a long time, bud."
"But why? I don't get it." The self-derision in his voice tugs at Butters' soul.
"Because you're real. You don't go 'round censoring your words, and you don't use them just to hurt people on purpose – though you do sometimes get carried away." He's sure to tack that last bit on the end, because Kenny really should feel ashamed for digging at Craig so hard earlier. After his stern frown garners a contrite shrug, he continues. "You've got better morals than anyone else 'round town that I know, and you're decent. You're kind. You're gonna grow up to be a fine man."
Some time during his speech, Kenny looks up, and Butters gets lost in his deep blue eyes. There’s something to the smudge of dirt on Kenny's cheek and the scruff of his hair. Butters isn't sure he'll ever get obsessed with sex and all that physical stuff like his friends seem to be, but he thinks that Kenny's gorgeous, and that just about does it for him. Skinny, gangly limbs, face bust up from a fight with his big brother and neck that's got other people's love bites on – that's the boy Butters fell for.
It's also the reason that, when Kenny leans towards him, eyes flitting down to his mouth and tongue wetting his lips, Butters pushes him back.
Breaks the moment.
"Huh? What's wrong?" his best buddy says, blinking out of the moment and reeling back. "Don't you wanna kiss me?"
"No." And it's true. This isn't the way Butters wants it – in some crummy hunting lodge in the middle of the woods that the boys have decked out with crappy, stolen furniture. A clubhouse with no working electricity and the sun setting in reds and browns outside the grimy windows. He doesn't want to be fourteen years old and making rash, hormone-fuelled decisions that they're both gonna regret when they come to their senses in a few minutes time. Not when that might damage their friendship.
Still though, Kenny looks hurt. Turns away and drags the porn magazine up onto his lap to flick through half-heartedly. Pouts in a way that makes Butters want to pinch his thin cheeks.
"I'm bidin' my time," he says quietly, almost a whisper. It's enough that Kenny pauses. "I'm gonna wait for you while you see all your girlfriends and your boyfriends and you have all your sneaky kisses, 'til you realize that's not what you want."
"But that is what I want, dude. You're gonna be left hanging forever, just because you like someone like me. You should just move on. Start dating – like the other guys are. Get yourself another chick like Charlotte, or Lexus. You liked them, right? And Red, and Annie. Oh, what about Bebe? That'd really piss Clyde off." He gesticulates as he talks, great big movements and loud, joking words that Butters sees right through to the cringing insecurity and the emotional distance. And then he finishes up by saying what might be the surest thing to upset Butters. "Get yourself someone special, man. Someone that deserves you."
Boy oh boy, that does it.
He turns right around on his butt, grabs the front of Kenny's parker in both hands, and hauls him close so they're almost nose-to-nose. Glares hard enough that he thinks he might be putting Craig's earlier attempts to shame.
"Now you listen to me, Kenneth McCormick, 'cause gosh darn it, I'm only gonna say this once." He shakes Kenny a little, like that might rattle it harder into his head. The other boy stares right back with wide eyes and breath that fans across Butters' face. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not gonna ever love anyone else, but don't you dare think I'm settling for anything less than we both deserve. I'm in love with you, and dang it, I don't care that you don't love me back right now, 'cause you will. One day you'll realize this is serious and this is it, and you'll sort yourself out."
Pausing to catch his breath, Butters eases up his hold and pulls back a way, patting out the front of Kenny's parker to get rid of the creases. He smiles a little smile, when he starts speaking again. "But 'til then, I'm gonna be right here. I don't care who you mess 'round with or you date. I don't care what trouble you get in or who you fall out with. I'm your best friend, and this ain't gonna change anything unless we let it."
Done, he rocks back a little, and watches as Kenny pulls himself out of his shocked daze. He knows the second his friend is back to himself, because he starts smirking the kind of smirk that reaches his eyes and says he's hungry. It's the same look that turned Butters' inside to warm mush earlier.
"You dog," he says, and his voice is low and flirty. Butters feels his face light up like a Christmas tree. "You're playing the long game, aren't you?"
"Heh," he says, suddenly feeling shy. Bunches his hands up into fists and grinds his knuckles together. "Yeah, guess I am."
There's a dramatic sigh, and then Kenny's springing to his feet and stretching out a hand to help haul him up too. He takes the offered hand after stuffing his DS in his pants pocket, and is caught off balance when Kenny tugs him up with excess force.
Stumbles, right into the silly boy's arms.
Soon as he figures out this is one of their rare, special hugs, Butters grins against Kenny's bony shoulder and breathes in dirt and dust and cheap laundry detergent. Wraps his arms around his friend and holds him right back, just as tight and awkward.
"I'll try not to make you wait too long, dude," comes a gruff murmur, up against his ear.
Butters shuts his eyes and swallows around a giggle, because Ken's never been good at keeping promises.
"I don't care, bud. Take the scenic route. I'm all yours."