Work Text:
Coming up from downstairs after lunch, Eric’s and Butters’ phones in their hands pinged at the same time. Eric looked down to check his. As Butters entered Eric’s room, Eric read the message to the group chat he and his friends had over Snapchat.
Butters crawled onto the bed and sprawled out across the comforter. Eric followed him into the room, relaying the information of the message to him, “Stan is asking if we wanna go to Denver with them.” Eric looked up from his phone at Butters. He was in Eric’s white Terrance and Phillip Show hoodie, along with Eric’s hat pulled over his ears. When Butters stayed over, he had a habit of wearing Eric’s clothes instead of his own.
Butters also looked up from his phone to blink slowly at Eric. He tilted his head the slightest bit to the left when he asked, “Do you?”
Gesturing for Butters to scoot over on the bed, he put a knee on the mattress, saying, “I don’t know. Do you?”
Butters rolled over to make room for him. Laying on his stomach, he focused on Instagram again. “Not really,” he admitted.
Eric laid down and stretched his arm over his head, tucking his hand under his pillow. He used his free hand to text the group chat back. To Butters, he said sarcastically, “Bro, me neither. How funny.”
Butters turned his head to shoot him a brisk glare. “You’re the stupidest.”
Eric grinned. “No, you,” he drawled.
Smiling, Butters rolled his eyes.
Moving onto a different conversation, Eric said, “Some random chick added me on Snap earlier while we were eating lunch. She’s, like, trying to flirt with me or something. Look.”
He turned his phone screen to show Butters the selfie of the girl who Snapped him. She had a filter on that made her skin appear flawless and gave her glowing pink hearts on her cheeks. Her lips were full, her hair wavy. Long eyelashes, button nose, sultry pout. The black bar across the middle of the screen said, “Hey” in all lowercase. She was pretty, but not Eric’s type.
He muttered, “Where’s the thot police when you need them?”
Butters asked, “Are you gonna leave her on open?”
“Well, yeah, I was planning to.” He looked at Butters. “Why? Should I send a dick pic?” He was joking, but he tried to keep his voice as serious as possible.
Butters bared his teeth. “I’ll beat you up if you do that.” Silently, he mouthed, “No cap,” while slicing his hand across his throat.
Eric laughed loudly. “Bitch, I’d like to see you motherfucking try.”
Butters broke out in a grin.
They spent a good two hours on their phones, showing each other funny videos and images. It was how they usually spent their weekends. Chilling. They liked it that way.
Eric finally worked up the willpower to close TikTok. Groaning, he sat up and pressed his fingers into his eyes. There was a faint thrumming at the back of his skull, but there was no way he was admitting to his mom that he had a headache. As she would hand him an ibuprofen, she would just say that same old thing about him having a headache because he’s always on his phone.
He dropped his hand from his face, feeling his phone beneath his fingertips. He picked it back up. For a while, he stared at his lockscreen. It was of Butters. He was beaming and scrunching up his nose at the camera. In the background were arcade games lit up in neon. Eric smiled—just a little bit. Super Phun Thyme was something else.
Eric didn’t like sitting in the silence of his room. It was boring, and he always felt there needed to be a little bit of noise. So he hooked his phone up to his Bluetooth speaker and opened Spotify. He left his phone on the nightstand.
Eric rubbed the back of his head. He really didn’t want to hear it from his mom, so he decided to self-remedy. He’d take a break from his phone and clean out his closet to keep him from boredom. His mom had been bothering him about that anyway. Maybe if he made it look nice, he could ask her for an ibuprofen without hearing her go on about him being on his phone all the time. She’d be too proud of his clean closet to start on her bullshit. Kill two birds with one stone.
Butters stayed on the bed as Eric got up and walked over to his closet. He noticed from the corner of his eye that Butters’ gaze followed him before reattaching to his phone.
Eric stared at his closet door. He didn’t want to open it. He knew how bad it was inside. He knew there were clothes both clean and dirty discarded at the bottom. There were probably empty water bottles too, from when he couldn’t make it into the trash can from his bed, so he just kicked them into his closet when he got up to use the bathroom. The rare times he went into the closet, he wasn’t able to close the door all the way without a shirt getting caught. He would have to swiftly kick it back in and slam the door shut.
He took a breath, thinking to himself, Might as well get it over with. He slid his closet door open.
Just as he had known, there was a pile of clothes that reached the height of his knees haunting his closet. All of the hangers on the rack were empty. Some were laying on top of the pile. The longer he stood there without doing anything, the pile of clothes started to slide. He took a step back as half of the pile spilled onto the floor.
He stared at the clothes in front of him like it was an enemy to defeat. He hated cleaning almost as much as he hated hearing his mom telling him something was “because of his phone.”
Even still, he hated hearing that more, so he picked up the first shirt. Lifting it to his face, he sniffed it. It smelled clean, so he put it on a hanger. The next was a pair of boxers. He didn’t need to smell it to know it needed to get tossed into the washer immediately. The stain at the crotch gave him all the information he needed, and it reminded him of last week when he was alone in Butters’ room with him.
What the fuck is wrong with me, he thought. Why the hell did I throw this into my closet?
His disregard for cleanliness really shocked him sometimes, especially when he finally got around to organizing his shit.
He tossed the boxers over his shoulder, starting a pile of clothes that needed to be washed. While the pile in the closet was getting smaller, the one at his back was growing with all his dirty clothes.
Mumbling along to the song playing from his phone, he picked up the next article of clothing, realizing it was his favorite red hoodie.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for this,” he muttered to himself.
The last time he’d seen it was a day or two ago when Butters wore it to school, but Eric knew that it had to have been returned to him because they had a method. If Butters had one of Eric’s hoodies and wanted to wear a new one, he had to put back the one he already had to get the other.
Eric pulled the red hoodie over his head. One of the drawstrings folded into the neck, and when it hit Eric that it was still soggy, he swiftly pulled it out and turned to Butters. “Sick, B-Butts,” he said.
When Butters looked at him questioningly, Eric flicked the drawstring.
Realization washed over Butters’ face. “Oh. Sorry,” he apologized.
Eric didn’t mind that Butters chewed his hoodie strings, but it was never a welcoming feeling when still-wet drawstring pressed against his skin. That was the one downside about letting Butters borrow his hoodies: They almost always came back with wet drawstrings.
Eric took off the hoodie and dropped it into the dirty clothes pile. He decided to take a break from sorting through his closet. It had been five songs since he’d started anyway. He deserved a break.
He went back to bed. In an instant, Butters twisted Eric up in his limbs. Eric took his face with both hands and kissed him. He said, “You know, you woke me up in the middle of the night last night to tell me you had a dream.”
Butters had his right arm thrown over Eric’s shoulder. He buried his face in Eric’s shirt. He asked, “I did? What’d I dream about?”
“You and me were riding a roller coaster, but it wasn’t completed or something, so the tracks just dropped off into forty feet of open air. And our car kept going, so it went over and we started falling. And then you woke up and woke me up too just to tell me about it, and I could barely make out a word you were saying because it sounded like gibberish,” Eric explained.
Butters giggled. “I don’t remember wakin’ you up.”
Eric snorted. “You do it every time you have a dream and I’m laying there next to you.”
Butters looked up again and brought his face close enough to Eric’s that the tips of their noses touched. “Sorry bout it.” He paused. The hint of a smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Not really though.”
Eric moved his face so the side of his nose pressed up against Butters’. The hopeful look in his blue eyes told Eric he was expecting a kiss, but instead, he said, “I’m bored.”
He smothered a smirk when Butters’ shoulders dropped in disappointment, but it didn’t show in his voice. “Me too,” he agreed.
Eric stood on the bed above Butters, his feet at Butters’ hips. Butters laid on his back, squirming in anticipation like he was expecting something that Eric wasn’t planning on doing.
Eric steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes at Butters. Butters bit his lower lip to fight off a smile at the look on his face. Slowly and gravely, Eric said, “Look, look. Lemme tell you something… I’m in love with you.” He jerked his eyebrows at Butters. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
Butters had a stupid grin on his mouth. His eyes flickered from side to side as he searched Eric’s face. Then he burst out laughing, rolling onto his side so the pillow muffled him.
Eric let him laugh for a bit, but then he pulled him up. “Come on, let’s vibe,” he said. “I’m really feeling this playlist.”
Butters rested his forearms on Eric’s shoulders. Eric had his hands on Butters’ hips. “Vibe,” Butters echoed. “I wanna feel all your vibe, Eric,” he said breathily. He was close enough to slowly drag his tongue across Eric’s lips.
Eric’s stomach lurched. His hands gripped Butters’ hips, but he chuckled like he wasn’t affected, “Ha. Ew.”
Butters looked at him from beneath his eyelashes like he was unaware of what he’d done to him. Eric knew he was definitely well aware of his intentions.
Eric was impressed when Butters showed off that he remembered all the moves to “Mr. Saxobeat.” Eric was laughing uncontrollably by the time the song transitioned into the next.
Eric always thought it was Butters who adopted his habits and personality traits and the things he liked, not the other way around. Now, he found that he was being influenced by Butters just as much. He was listening to all his favorite songs and actually liking them. Half of the songs in his playlist were Butters’ songs.
“Oh!” Butters said loudly, staring at Eric with wide eyes.
“What?” Eric asked.
“I know the dance to this one. Here, lemme teach you. It’s easy.”
Eric knew the song was from TikTok, but he had absolutely zero knowledge of any of those dance trends. Sure, he spent an absurd amount of time on the app, but he never got any dance videos on his For You page. All he had were memes, and he liked it that way. But Butters knew all of the dances. He didn’t understand how he learned them so fast or how he remembered them all without mixing them up, but he did. It was impressive.
Eric didn’t have Spotify Premium, so when the song ended with him unsuccessfully memorizing the dance moves, Butters went onto YouTube to keep the song in a loop.
On the seventh try, Butters facepalmed in disbelief. “I learned this dance in one hour. You can’t even remember the first move!” He turned to Eric, his face thoughtful. “You’re a really bad dancer.”
Eric blinked at him before exploding, “That didn’t seem to matter when I was grinding into your ass during homecoming! You weren’t complaining when you were throwing it back on me like there was no tomorrow—!”
Butters slapped his hand over Eric’s mouth to cut off his offensive words. “Shhh!” he hissed around a dopey smile.
“You know what?” Eric stepped back and laced his hands together, holding them over his belly button. “Fuck you, you tap dancing, Happy Feet looking-ass.”
Butters paused before laughing hard. He separated Eric’s hands so he could spin in his arms. He rested his back snugly against Eric’s chest. Eric preferred it this way. He didn’t have to learn dances to twenty seconds of a song, and it reminded him of homecoming back in October.
That was a good day.
Butters was the first to recognize the tune to “Sweet Caroline.” It was one of his songs.
Butters started off the first verse, leaving the pre-chorus for Eric. He sang, “Hands touching hands... reaching out... Touching me, touching you…” He tightened his arms around Butters and swung him back and forth before stopping to burst out, “Sweet Caroline!”
Butters shouted, “Ba ba BA!” With each beat, Eric jabbed his fingers into Butters’ sides, making him laugh and writhe. He continued the next line, “Good times never seemed so good—hey! Watch the hands, mister!”
Eric’s cold hands had vanished up Butters' shirt. “I’ve been inclined—” Eric sang.
“BA BA BA—!!” Butters shrieked again as Eric ruthlessly pressed his fingers into his sides.
“—to believe they never would!” Eric belt out.
Butters was laughing hard, trying to wiggle free from Eric. He bent forward, sinking to the bed. Eric pinned him, tickling him until Butters was begging him to stop. Even then, he didn’t.
“Please,” he giggled. “Please no more!” He started kicking his legs, his heels pummeling into Eric’s back.
“Make me,” Eric growled.
Butters managed to turn himself onto his back. He shoved Eric, halting the tickles, but starting something else as he pulled Eric’s arms to his sides so he couldn’t use him. Eric was stronger than he was, and all it took was a few more tickles to Butters’ stomach, and his arms were free.
Butters jumped on Eric, his arm hooked around his neck. It was more of a challenge for Eric to shake him off and try to get him into a headlock. While Eric was strong, Butters was quick. He dodged Eric and tried to wrestle him down to the bed.
Wrestling was fun mostly because Eric won every time. Plus, he liked feeling Butters physically give up under him.
But Butters really put up a fight this afternoon. Their match lasted the longest it ever had. By the time Eric was kneeling on the bed with Butters clinging to his back, Butters was breathing like he’d run a mile nonstop. He had Eric’s arms again and he had all his weight on Eric to slow him down.
Eric decided to go for the impression that he’d given up. He stilled and let his shoulders droop. After a minute, he felt Butters’ hold on his arms loosen. That’s when Eric reached behind him for Butters. He grabbed the back of the hoodie and used that to yank Butters off his back. Butters yelped as he hit the bed, but Eric was grinning at him underneath him.
Butters stared up at Eric, shocked. His face was red with exertion. He tried to squirm his way out, but Eric used Butters’ tactic and applied most of his weight to his body. Butters groaned. Eric finally felt his muscles relax. He’d given up.
“No fair,” he wheezed. “You’re bigger than me.”
Eric smirked. “Damn right I am.”
“W—Eric!” Butters exclaimed. He was blushing.
Eric grinned.
Both were panting, their faces inches apart. Butters let out a sigh as he calmed himself down. He threw his arms over Eric’s shoulders, hooking his hands together to keep Eric between.
“Why don’t we watch You?” Eric offered.
Butters scrunched up his nose. “Don’t wanna.”
“Why?”
The corners of Butters’ mouth turned down. “The kissing’s gross and there are too many sex scenes,” he said.
Eric chuckled. “So?”
“So it’s weird,” Butters said.
Eric rolled his eyes. “It’s not even that bad.”
“Yeah it is,” Butters argued.
Eric lifted an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”
Butters’ face twisted in thought. “Because… ‘cause…” He gnawed on his lip. “Y’know, it’d be interestin’ if I lost my virginity to you at the U-Stor-It in Chaos’s lair.”
Eric’s eyes went wide. “D-do you… think about that?” he wondered.
Butters shrugged, nonchalant. Except Eric could tell that he was faking his indifference. His breathing was coming in short, the same way it did when he watched Eric unzip his jeans.
“Sometimes,” he said. “We’ve done a lotta things in that storage unit. Wouldn’t surprise me if that happened there too.”
Butters wouldn’t meet Eric’s stare. His face was still red. He fit for running his fingers through the hair at the top of Eric’s head.
Eric imagined what that might be like: taking Butters’ virginity in the Chaos lair. The storage unit was cluttered with too many knickknacks and Professor Chaos paraphernalia lying around. There were pictures on the walls from years ago when Professor Chaos was trying to figure out who Mysterion was. Not to mention there was nowhere comfortable for Eric to pin Butters to. Eric didn’t want their first time to be standing up or sitting down. Maybe they could drag in a mattress, but it would probably be torn and stained and without bedsheets. That was too gross and unsanitary.
No, the storage unit wouldn’t suffice. It was too busy in there. He didn’t want Butters to look around and start thinking about something else as Eric took his innocence. Eric wanted to be the only thing on his mind. He wanted Butters’ heavy breathing in his ear, feeling their clammy skin brush. He wanted Butters under him, pressed into soft blankets. He wanted Butters to be completely spellbound by him.
Eric wanted to have his way with Butters somewhere that would get his heart racing, and not just because of Eric’s pumping into him. He wanted Butters to be nervous, but not too nervous that it ruined the moment. He wanted just enough anxiety to get Butters’ adrenaline rushing. He wanted any sound from outside wherever they laid to make his breath hitch.
He wanted somewhere like Butters’ room. There, Butters was always on edge, especially when Eric was in the house at the same time his parents were. When Eric and Butters messed around in Butters’ room, they had to be quiet. Butters had to keep his noises muffled so his parents wouldn’t hear. It always turned Eric on to know Butters wanted him enough that he was willing to risk his parents’ wrath if they were caught together.
Butters’ room was the perfect place. It was the right amount of thrill.
Abruptly, Eric said, “It’s not.”
Butters looked at him, startled. “What?”
“I’m not taking your virginity in the U-Stor-It. It’s not gonna happen there. It’s gonna happen on your bed and in your house because that’s the greatest act of rebellion against your parents.” Eric paused to take in the way Butters’ lips were parted in astonishment. He went on, “Plus, your door doesn’t lock from the inside, so if we just so happened to do it while your parents were home, we’d have to be really, really careful.”
Butters began trembling in excitement.
Eric lowered himself so he was whispering into Butters’ ear. He said, low and raspy, “And I know we’re not in your room right now, but I could…” he smirked, “demonstrate. If you want me to.”
“Yes.”
If it was any other circumstance, Eric would have laughed at the suddenness—the neediness—of Butters’ answer. But Eric wasn’t in the right mood to laugh. All he wanted to do was move his body against Butters.
He used his right hand to lift Butters’ chin. He could tell Butters thought he was going to say something else, but he was met with lips instead. Testing, Eric carefully ground his hips into Butters’. Butters moaned into his mouth. Heat flared on Eric’s skin.
Soft and pleading, Butters whispered, “Eric,” and Eric had access to the whole world.
He knelt to keep himself upright. First, he removed Butters of the beanie, then the hoodie and his shirt. He kissed Butters low on his neck, making him shiver. When Eric put his hands on Butters' hips, he lifted them compliantly. Eric removed Butters’ pajama pants. Eric took off his clothes next. The only thing they kept on were their boxers. He leaned down, kissing Butters on the mouth, then his neck.
Eric continued to grind into Butters. Butters was biting back moans with his hands in Eric’s hair, and Eric was breathing hard.
This was the third time this month they’d done this. The first time was after returning home from New Year’s, then on the eighteenth, and now this. This used to happen only once a month, but lately, they’d been feeling the desperation to do it more often. Eric guessed that it meant they’d be experiencing the real thing pretty soon.
His lips weren’t on Butters’, but he was close enough that when Butters made his move, their lips brushed.
With one hand on the back of Butters’ thigh, Eric used that as a guide so Butters could know when to push up on Eric. Eric adjusted his angle. Butters whimpered, his grip on Eric’s hair tightening. There was something about the sensation that made Eric’s dick twitch.
That was new.
Ten minutes later, Butters came first with a stuttering whimper. Then Eric was the next, collapsing on top of Butters. The first thing he did was connect their lips as he rolled them onto their sides. They made out as they eased from their high.
Between their lips, Butters murmured, “You’re a slow kisser.”
Eric’s voice was still husky when he asked, “Is that a bad thing?”
Butters shook his head, nuzzling his nose into Eric’s. “No. I really like it, like how I like it when you kiss me all roughly but slowly too. You’re a slow kisser. It’s my favorite.”
Eric huffed a laugh, not entirely understanding. “Okay.”
He kissed Butters slowly, roughly, deeply. Butters moaned around Eric’s tongue, but it wasn’t the lust-driven kind of moan. Eric didn’t know how to describe it.
Five minutes later, the kissing had ceased. Butters lay curled up against Eric’s chest, sighing in little whimpers. This was how he always got after they came together. Eric didn’t know why he got like that, and he assumed Butters didn’t know either.
With his eyes closed, Butters smiled. “I think that was the best we’ve ever vibed so far,” he joked.
Eric snickered. Touching foreheads, he mumbled, “Enough with the vibes, B-Butts.”
Butters inched closer. He kissed the side of Eric’s nose. “All right. But just know that I like your vibe. It works well with mine.”
Eric caressed Butters’ cheek with his thumb. “Hey.”
Butters opened his eyes.
“I love you,” Eric said.
Butters put his lips to Eric’s. “I love you too.”
After laying there for a few minutes more, Eric started to feel tired enough to take an afternoon nap, but some annoying thing in the back of his mind reminded him of the two separate piles on the floor.
He groaned, covering his face with the crook of his elbow.
“What’s the matter?” Butters asked.
Eric gestured to the messy floor. He still had his arm over his face.
“Oh,” Butters said.
Eric felt him sit up. Butters put his hand on Eric’s thigh. His palm was warm and clammy. “I could maybe help you with it,” he offered.
Eric wasn’t paying attention, too busy mumbling along to the song playing.
Butters squeezed Eric’s thigh, making him jolt. His arm flew from his face to glare at him. “Don’t do that,” he said without much force.
“Hurry up so we can finish the mess you started,” Butters said.
Eric sighed heavily and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Let me change first.” He went to his dresser to look for a pair of clean boxers.
“Me too.”
In Eric’s dresser was a drawer that held some of Butters’ clothes. He found one of Butters’ boxers and tossed it to him.
Once they were back in the clothes they wore before they decided to get down, Butters hung up Eric’s clean clothes as Eric continued sorting.
With the two of them working through his mess, they finished quicker than Eric would have been able to on his own.
Butters admired Eric’s neat closet and the absence of the dirty clothes pile on the floor. “So nice,” he mused. He turned around to smile at Eric. “Doncha think?”
Eric was sitting on the bed, watching him. He smiled but covered it up by shaking his head. “Sure, B-Butts.”
Butters walked over to Eric and sat himself in his lap. He tilted his head, smiling brighter. “I want ice cream,” he said.
“I can take you to go get some,” Eric offered. Sure it was illegal to drive anywhere without a licensed adult while he had just a permit, but he didn’t give a fuck.
Butters nodded. He leaned forward and did that thing again, licking Eric’s lips like he was licking a cone of ice cream.
When he pulled back, Eric did nothing except say, “You have got to stop doing that.”
Butters giggled. Eric could tell he wasn’t taking it seriously, and Eric himself wasn’t serious about it either. Butters could probably tell because of the blush on his cheeks. Instead of commenting about it, he played with Eric’s hair at the nape of his neck with an innocent, amused smile.