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“With snow accumulations coming from the north, South Park can expect a whopping four feet in the next twelve hours…”
Butters, Kenny, and Karen waited with baited breath on the rickety old couch of the McCormick living room, leaned forward with their elbows on their knees. No one said a word.
“I’m getting word…” the forecaster teased unintentionally, making the three sit up straighter, breaths held in their chests. “I’m getting word that North Park Public Schools are closed tomorrow, offices will open at 12pm.” In tandem the three sank, a harmony of aggravated huffs. Their focus stayed glued to the television.
Snow days were surprisingly hard to come by in such a snowed out town. The town unfortunately knew how to prepare for and endure onslaughts of wintery weather. If they closed school every time it snowed, they would never go. But the surprise storm had left the town little time to prepare and treat the roads accordingly, so the three were holding out hope for a day off from school.
“Parks and rec are working on treating the roads in hopes of getting ahead of the storm…”
“Well tell them to cut it out!” Kenny exclaimed.
“But with the amount that has already come down, it may be too late.” The reporter held a hand to the earpiece settled in their left ear. “One moment…I’m just now getting word that South Park Public Schools has gone ahead and closed for tomorrow, along with any public offices. Enjoy your snow day, South Park!”
The three leapt to their feet and cheered, hands in the air as if they had just won the lottery. Karen began bouncing from one point of the house to the next, chanting the words ‘snow day, snow day, snow day!’ Kenny and Butters flopped back down on the couch.
“Oh, that’s such a relief…if I had to hear my alarm one more time this week I was afraid I’d throw it out the window,” Butters exhaled heavily, fingers pressed to his temples. Kenny tossed an arm over the back of the couch.
“Big day for you. Instead of waking up at 6:30, you’ll sleep in until 6:37.” Butters leaned against him, biting his lip on a smile.
“I’ll sleep in until at least 7.” Karen rounded the corner back into the living room, throwing a haphazard cartwheel in front of the television that almost didn’t make it all the way over. She continued her victory lap back down the hall, announcing the snow day to the house despite the fact no one was home except the two boys. Butters smiled after her, jostling Kenny’s leg with his own. “You suddenly have twenty-four hours freed up. Y’gonna do anything special?”
“Oh y’know,” Kenny smiled. “Kick ass, take names.”
“The usual.”
“The usual.” He picked up the remote to start flipping through channels now that they got the answer they wanted from the weather. “Realistically I’ll probably end up going shoveling for a little extra money. See how far I can get through town.”
Stuart McCormick’s sudden absence within the family had made them all relearn how to stay financially afloat. Butters had expected the change to result in less time spent together, but the only thing that really changed was location. It meant Butters following Kenny to extra City Wok shifts, or providing a second set of hands at miscellaneous odd jobs around town. Though he acted more as a glorified toolbox, Butters liked tagging along to entertain and ogle Kenny as he skillfully fixed up anything from mailboxes to fences to doggy doors. He found it hardest at these gigs to resist kissing the boy silly - turns out, Butters liked a man who was good with his hands.
“Can I expect to see you on my street?” He asked as Kenny settled on a rerun of American Ninja Warrior. A placating hand settled in his curls.
“I’ll make sure to blow a kiss as I skip right over you.” Butters watched the television for a moment, his mind jumping ahead where he couldn’t keep up. He shrugged.
“I mean…I don’t want you to miss out on some extra money just because you don’t stop at my house.” He peeked up to see Kenny smile, eyes still on the screen.
“There’s a whole rest of town to shovel, hon, one house won’t make or break me. Don’t sweat it.” Butters twisted up his mouth, trying to determine if the idea he had stewing was something he should actually pursue.
“How…bad would it really be if you came by?” Kenny turned with a raised eyebrow, Butters’ continued questioning sounding less and less like a joke. Butters shrugged nonchalantly. “Like…I could just pretend you’re Kenny from school, not Kenny my boyfriend. You’d go do your thing and I’d stay inside and then you’d get paid and leave. My dad would be none the wiser.” Kenny squinted, clearly trying to decipher Butters’ angle.
“Leo, did you forget your dad detests me?” The word made the hair on the back of Butters’ neck stand up.
“He doesn't detest you.” It wasn’t even a fib - the man had no reason to actually hate Kenny. He had barely even interacted with him since he had come over for dinner that one night before the two had started dating. Kenny avoided the man’s radar like the plague - it was almost impossible for him to have earned a spot on his bad side.
Butters shook his head, shrugging vaguely.
“I just…really don’t think it’ll be an issue if we barely interact. It’ll be weirder if you didn’t stop by and at least offer. My dad will get super pissy if everyone on the street has a shoveled driveway except for us.” He let his head flop back against Kenny’s arm, gazing at him with puppy dog eyes. “Which means he’ll make me go do it and at least you would get paid.” Kenny stared for a moment before cracking a grin.
“Do you just not want to shovel your driveway?” Butters bit his lips together on a sly smile.
“That’s not not part of it.” Kenny barked out a laugh, draping his arm fully over the other boy’s shoulders and tugging him close. Butters gazed pleadingly up at him. “Pleeeeease come shovel my driveway, Ken?” Kenny looked him over with a smile, his eyes soft. He was clearly going back and forth in his head about this, considering the pros and cons of willingly entering what he deemed enemy territory.
“Well…who am I to turn away a paying customer.” Butters bounced victoriously, grinning as he wrapped his arms around Kenny’s neck. “But,” the boy raised a serious eyebrow, waggling a finger admonishingly. “If I’m coming over we both gotta commit to the bit. I’m just Kenny from school swinging by because that’s what I’m doing for every other house on the block.” Butters nodded with a soft smile, making Kenny bite back a grin. “And no lookin’ at me like that. You’ll blow the whole operation if you look at me like that.” Butters gave an affronted scoff.
“Like what!? I’m not lookin’ at you any different than I usually do!” Kenny tsked and shook his head, dipping down to drop a trail of kisses to the side of his throat.
“Maybe that’s the problem. How the hell am I not supposed to kiss the shit out of you when you just look like that?” Butters huffed out a laugh, gently tugging the boy up to meet his lips.
“Well, go ahead and get it out of your system now.”
……
The snow storm had hit the mountain town just as hard as predicted, resulting in four feet and some change of good quality snowman-making snow.
Kenny made his way through town, shoveling out the neighborhood at an easy pace. He had hit a good chunk of town by four o’clock, his inner zipper pocket thick with an impressive wad of bills from the day’s spoils. Thank god for snow days.
And now, at the end of it all, he found himself at the end of the Stotch’s driveway, boots sunk deep in the soft snow with his shovel over his shoulder. He looked over the house he frequented unbeknownst to two-thirds of its residents, measuring the distance from where he stood to the front door. He glanced up toward Butters’ window, though he couldn’t fully see it from his position at the front of the house. He sighed into his parka’s face guard, shaking his head vaguely. His feet crunched below him as he marched up the driveway. Butters was lucky he was cute.
Looking over the front door, he wondered again if this was a bad idea or not. Whether Stephen Stotch wanted to scowl and squirm in his presence or not was no skin off of Kenny’s teeth - what he worried about was that aggression being directed towards his son.
I’m just a classmate shoveling the driveway, Kenny thought as he undid his face guard and pulled off his hood. He shivered at the biting wind but roughly shook himself out. He pulled out his phone to send Butters a message.
Kenny: tge eagle has landed
And with that, he raised a gloved hand to knock at the door.
Kenny waited a moment, tucking his phone back in his pocket and lowering the shovel to prop against the ground. Stephen Stotch’s muffled ‘I’ve got it’ could be made out from behind the wood. Enter the dragon. Kenny straightened himself up taller than what was comfortable and threw on his most parent-pleasing smile. The door swung open just a moment later.
Stephen stood before him in a red sweater and khaki pants, never failing to amuse Kenny with how he always seemed to be dressed to go to church. Kenny tittered internally, his confidence swelling. He wouldn’t allow himself to be nervous in front of a guy who was dressed like Jake from Statefarm. The man’s face fell as he saw Kenny, that routine distrusting expression falling over him. He straightened himself up before the teenager as if to prove who was in charge between the two of them.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Stotch,” Kenny took the lead pleasantly, maintaining eye contact even as Butters nearly went careening down the stairs behind his father. He caught himself halfway down, one nervous hand gripping the railing. Kenny couldn’t help but bite his cheek on a smile.
“Afternoon, Kenneth,” Stephen greeted shortly. Kenny had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, having forgotten about the man’s strange insistence on calling him by his full governmental name. Instead he offered him a smile, his gaze pleasant yet careful. The older man looked the boy up and down critically. “How can I help you?”
I’m just here to shovel my boyfriend’s driveway.
“Some storm last night, huh?” Kenny answered instead. “I’ve been going around town helping people clear out their driveway and makin’ a few extra bucks while I’m at it. Would you be interested in a shoveling job?” He refortified his smile, constantly needing to make an active effort in front of the man he despised so much. “I’ve been told I’m pretty alright at it. I get the corners reaaaaaally clean.” He chose then to look up at the blonde boy on the stairs, pretending to just notice him. Kenny raised a hand in a mild greeting. “Oh, hey, Butters.”
The name Butters on Kenny’s lips seemed to give the other boy a jolt, foreign between the two since before they even started dating. Kenny felt a bit of guilt just for using it, despite the fact he heard the name every day from every other person. Leo, it seemed, was just one of those special things that had to remain secret in front of Stephen Stotch.
Butters gulped, raising a tentative hand in return.
“H-hiya, Kenny.” Kenny rested more of his weight against his shovel, quietly admiring the boy from where he stood. His snow day outfit consisted of a simple blue sweater, dark sweatpants, and fuzzy socks. He looked far too cuddly for Kenny to pretend there was nothing between them.
“Classes going alright this semester?”
Kenny had to bite back his laugh at Butters’ incredulous expression. As if Kenny didn’t know how his classes were going, having sat on the receiving end of Butters’ gripes and excited tangents relating to said classes. As if he hadn’t personally aided Butters’ improved math grade and overall academic confidence, a simultaneous unpaid tutor and hype man. As if he didn’t have Butters’ class schedule memorized front to back, inside out and sideways, alongside what times would be best to text him to meet up for a totally necessary bathroom break.
“Classes are going pretty alright.” He responded simply, the fist at his chest rubbing there absentmindedly. “Yours?” Kenny shrugged with a feigned air of disinterest.
“Can’t complain.” He nodded his attention to Butters’ dad once more, even though he could stand there playing pretend with the boy all day. “So are you guys interested in some shoveling today?” Stephen raised an eyebrow, not very discreetly looking Kenny up and down as he considered his offer.
And that was the part that Butters didn’t seem to understand. The air of disapproval and distrust that came without catalyst. Butters sometimes had a hard time not looking at the world as if it were black and white; to him, Kenny hadn’t blatantly done anything to offend the man, so the man had no reason to dislike Kenny. But it wouldn’t matter if Kenny had saved the guy’s life - he would always see him as lesser because of who he was and where he came from. What Butters couldn’t seem to wrap his head around was the inherent disgust the man held for Kenny.
“What’s your rate?”
“Flat forty. Includes-“
“Forty!” The man exclaimed, making Butters cringe from over his shoulder. But Kenny didn’t budge. He just nodded patiently.
“Yes, sir. Includes the driveway, steps, and a de-ice preventative treatment. Kind of a steal if you ask me.” Kenny crossed one foot over the other languidly. “And I don’t usually do this, but I’ll throw in a car scraping, too. Nothing worse than clearing off your car in the morning when you need to get to work. Especially once it ices over.” Kenny stood still as the man considered him, letting him get a good look. He considered giving the man a twirl. Stephen made a grunting noise in the back of his throat, his gaze narrowing.
“You’re a regular ol’ business man, aren’t you.” Kenny gave an amused smile, but didn’t respond verbally. “You’ve got a deal. But if I find any kind of scratches on that car, I demand a full refund - got it?” Still, Kenny was undeterred by the man’s threats, merely watching him whine as if he were a petulant child. He stuck his free hand out to shake.
“Not a scratch, sir.” Stephen hesitated, eyes darting between Kenny’s face and his hand, as if evaluating if he was even clean enough to touch. But, Kenny knew if he didn’t shake his hand, he was admitting some kind of twisted defeat. It was now a matter of which one he valued more.
Stephen grasped Kenny’s hand firmly.
Kenny’s coy smile grew as he pumped his arm. He only pulled away to tug his hood up and stretch the face guard across his nose and mouth.
“I’ll get right to it, Mr. Stotch. Pleasure doing business with you.” Kenny distinctly remembered how the man disliked when he spoke into his parka, and he took pride in his muffled response as he took a step backward. He vaguely heard Stephen grumble to himself before swinging the door closed. Kenny met Butters’ big blue eyes just before the door latched.
Kenny exhaled and let himself slouch back to his regular posture, rolling his eyes at the man’s high strung nature. He went about his business as he shrugged his backpack off and set it neatly on one of the porch chairs, rewiring his headphones and pushing them into his ears. As he hit shuffle on his playlist, a message dinged at the top of his screen.
leo: You’re wonderful, you know that?
Kenny’s face split into a grin as he typed back.
Kenny: anything for yoy cutie
Kenny: you behave urself whike im out here. no ogling me from the front window
leo: Because that’s not what “just classmates” do.
Kenny: spesking of wanna go out some time
leo: That all depends on how good the driveway looks later.
Kenny: on it boss!!
leo: <<33 stay warm
Kenny bit his lip on a grin before turning to make his way down the snowy driveway, the warmth in his chest strong enough to melt the snow below.
…
What was Butters supposed to do, not ogle his boyfriend from the front window?
Despite his previous nerves that came naturally with his dad and Kenny standing toe to toe, Butters still believed the latter coming over to shovel was fine. As long as the two stayed separate, his dad had no reason to get upset. And “separate” could still include sitting on the couch by the window.
Butters flipped open his book to where his bookmark sat, peeking over at Kenny’s progress. In a flash he was at work, starting by clearing off the car. Butters felt like a pathetic puppy in the way he wished he could be out there with him, keeping him company as they yapped on about anything under the sun. But for now, he simply turned back to his book as his parents’ soaps droned on in the background.
For a while they continued on like that, the Stotch family warm inside while the nice neighborhood boy diligently cleared their driveway for a few extra bucks. It was all pretend, but a part of Butters didn’t like it. With an ache, he noted how this is what could have been, if their story had stopped when his father tried to end it. If he had been too scared to take that leap out of his window, to trust in the arms that caught him. He thanked his past self for having the courage to even just try.
Butters went back to his book, occasionally glancing out the window to see Kenny shoveling rows up and down the driveway. With robotic consistency, he scooped a shovel’s worth of snow up just to toss it off to the bank along the driveway. Butters gazed out at him, a slight smile on his mouth as he was hypnotized by the redundancy.
How are his arms not jelly after doing this all day? I wonder if he’s sore. That has to be an amazing upper body workout. I wonder what his arms look like while he’s shoveling. Too bad people can’t shovel shirtless. Is there a place on earth you can shovel shirtless without freezing your nips off?
“How often do you see that Kenny boy at school nowadays?” Kenny’s name on his dad’s lips made Butters snap back to reality, feeling a bit like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. His dad sat in the chair opposite Butters, eyes glued on the television. The boy carefully considered his response, but he took too long for his dad’s liking as he turned his gaze. “I know you had that one class together in the fall. Do you have any with him this semester?” Butters shook his head, turning back to his book.
“Not this semester.” He answered simply. He heard his father hum and just tried to give a convincing “reading my book” performance. His father made a noise, shaking his head.
“I don’t like it when he comes over to this side of town…puts me on edge.” Butters’ gut sank a tad, blinking up at him.
“Why not?” The man shook his head.
“Bad things happen when people like him come over here. Bunch of freeloaders coming around begging for scraps.” Butters blinked, looking between his father and the window.
“But…he’s working for his money…isn’t that the opposite of a freeloader?” Butters gazed out the window, looking to where Kenny was shaking out his shoulders before continuing to push the shovel along the perimeter. “He’s doing us a favor by shoveling so we don’t have to. It’s…nice if anything.” His father raised a reprimanding finger without looking away from his newspaper.
“Favors are not paid, Butters.” Butters felt his temper flare at the belittling tone, but was extinguished by his mom exiting the kitchen.
“Paid or not, I think it’s nice of him to go around shoveling for folks.” She sat down in the spot next to Butters. His chest filled with hope before he forced himself to relax again. He opened his mouth to speak, but his father beat him to it.
“Well you know why he’s doing it, don’t you Linda?” Butters turned to his dad, who had finally looked away from his paper to settle his wife with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, he’s always tended to be around town picking up odds and ends,” the man cut her off with a shake of his head.
“That family is going under. Total belly-up. If you thought they were bad before, phew.” Such an out-of-pocket comment made Butters pause. The way his dad talked about the McCormick family as if they were a business made his stomach clench with knee-jerk defensiveness.
“What happened?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, though he kicked himself for engaging at all. Don’t get involved, Butters…
“Ever since Stuart jumped ship they’ve been worse than ever. Nobody watching that little girl, Carol’s using again, that boy off heaven-knows-where. A buddy of mine said they foreclosed the house. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see them on the streets in the next few weeks. With the way they’ve been living, they’ve been asking for it. That’s not the kind of kid you want to be around, Butters, believe me.”
Butters couldn’t stop his eyebrows from shooting upward at the grossly exaggerated description of the McCormicks’ current situation. Sure, ever since Stuart McCormick had left, the family certainly had to rework how to make ends meet. They were in a space between his departure and his required child support payments, so they truly were living off of their mom’s paycheck and whatever extra Kenny could scrounge up. However, Kenny would sooner sell both kidneys than let his family go totally under. The ends were meeting, and it was because they were working so hard.
Kenny had been out and about either finding work or working his ass off in school. His mom had been clean for at least as long as their dad had been gone. Karen was happy, healthy, and safe. Nobody had foreclosed shit. Butters wanted to smack whoever was spreading such nasty rumors across the face with a hot skillet. But he managed a slow, belly-deep breath, hoping against hope that the eruption occurring inside of him would stay under the surface.
“Seems like Stuart got out at the right time.” All composure he just gathered dissolved at his mother’s comment, and Butters nearly hurt his neck with how quickly he turned to her. He had to tame his face so as not to show that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. Things were hard financially because he left - anyone with a brain could see that. But his father only made a noise of agreement, further proving that no one in that room was utilizing proper deduction skills. Butters felt like he was going insane.
“Why are you taking his side?” Butters would be the first to admit, he could have cooled his tone a bit. But with the way they were discussing the situation, he felt like his sharpness was warranted. “It’s obvious they’re struggling because he left and there’s one less paycheck to help pay the bills.”
“I know that family, Butters,” the man sighed, and Butters had to choke back a cough of laughter at the statement. Please, Dad, tell me ALL about that family. “If he left, I believe he would have had good reason to. Clearly things were going south long before, and he got out in the nick of time.”
“Well whose fault is that?” Butters spit, causing his father to sit up straighter. He lowered his paper and gave Butters a careful look that the latter simply chose to ignore. “Sounds like he sank the ship then jumped overboard. If the house is falling apart, is that the child’s fault? If there is no food on the table, is that the child’s fault? If the electric bill isn’t paid, is that the child’s fault?”
“You watch your tone, young man-“
“If a parent messes up, how do you hold that against the kids? Answer me - is it the child’s responsibility to support the family?” His father slammed the newspaper down, his face growing redder the more Butters spoke.
“It is the child’s responsibility to do as they are told and watch their damn tone!” His last hint to back off was his mother choosing then to leave the room, her eyes wide and distant. Instead Butters mirrored the man, slamming his book off to the side as he turned himself to fully face him. At the end of the day, he was nothing if not his father’s son.
“Listen to how ridiculous you’re being! You’re being awfully unfair to Kenny, and it doesn’t make sense. You choose to skew a narrative in your head just to make him a bad guy, even if it makes the entire story totally incomprehensible! You’re being an ignorant bandwagoner who believes anything you hear on the street-!”
“YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THIS!” In a flash the other man was on his feet, clearing the space between them in two strides. As soon as his hand landed at his collar, Butters knew there was no backtracking from here. He had properly fucked up.
Butters launched from where he was sitting, thrown to the ground with that secret strength his dad always had in store just for him. As he careened forward, he was sent headfirst into the side table beside his father’s chair, sending it and its contents flying. His cheekbone stung, and he scrambled to roll over, staring in terror at the man hulking over him.
He’d fucked up. He’d really fucked up. Looking back at what he had said, how he had said it, Butters knew he was in for it now. He had been so blinded by anger on Kenny’s behalf that he forgot who he was speaking to, and there was no way out of what was to come other than through. Hamburgers…
That rough hand grabbed his collar once more, forcing him to stand and cinching off his airways like a ziploc bag. His father looked him over, furious eyes shining.
“Are you quite done?” He hissed, his breath fanning over Butters’ face. The only sound the boy could produce was a small gasp. The flat of one large hand thunked hard against Butters’ temple, shaking him loose before grabbing him fully. The man sneered, looking over his son with disgust. “Are you done lecturing me on topics that you have no idea about? Who the hell do you think I am, who you’re talking to? Remind me again…who the hell runs this house?” His hand reared back to strike again, making Butters brace for an impact that he had no choice but to sit through.
He had really fucked this one up.
“Disrespectful, selfish, rotten boy-“
Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock…
A series of frantic knocks made the room freeze, both Butters and his father’s wide eyes darting towards the front window. Kenny’s shovel was abandoned on the pavement, the boy nowhere to be seen.
…
Of all the jobs Kenny picked up, he quite enjoyed shoveling. It was just the right amount of mundane and repetitive that he could shut his brain off, but required enough brain power that he didn’t bore himself silly.
This job, however, was different. He was too aware of the feeling that he was being watched, and he knew Stephen Stotch was most likely keeping tabs on him from inside. It didn’t explicitly bother him per say, more so just kept him more alert than he would have liked.
But Kenny did like looking up and catching Butters peeking out at him just to turn away quickly, blushing and biting back a smile. It was a game between the two, and so far neither of them were losing. Movement in the corner of Kenny’s vision made him look up at the house, ready to catch Butters in the act of sneaking a peek through the large front window.
Except the space Butters had sat was now empty, and Stephen was standing in the middle of the room, turned as if looking down at something. Kenny furrowed his eyebrows as he straightened his spine, pausing his shoveling for just a moment.
On the other side of the glass the man leaned down, pulling a rumpled Butters up by the collar of his sweater. A quick hand came up, swatting the boy upside the head and making him recoil.
Kenny nearly fell over himself as he dropped the shovel where he stood, legs flying as if straight out of a cartoon. Like a bat out of hell he flew up the porch, and before he could even think about what he was doing, his fist was rapping against the front door.
What he would do when the door opened he didn’t know, but he knew he had to get in there. A flash of something Butters had said before passed through him, that time with the belt where Kenny learned just how violent Stephen could really get.
“There’s nothing you could have done, even if you saw me through the window or something…”
Kenny remembered Butters’ helpless tone, the acceptance that he was unsalvageable. It was a tone of voice that kept Kenny awake at night.
“What else could you do? Appear out of nowhere and tackle him? You attack him and then what happens?”
Kenny didn’t know. But that didn’t stop his fist from knocking until the door swung open, Linda Stotch standing on the other side with equally wide eyes. The boy nearly fell forward, catching and straightening himself out hastily.
His eyes darted behind Linda at the flurry of motion - Stephen roughly shoving Butters away from him before storming down the hall and slamming the door to his study. Butters scampered in the opposite direction with a hand cradling his throat, not looking at Kenny before scrambling up the stairs as fast as he could.
Kenny blinked, his vision teetering between red with fury and dizzy with relief. He did it. He’d stopped Stephen from going any further than he already did. He couldn’t be too relieved, however, as a new, different wave of worry washed over him at the sight of Butters’ retreating back.
He snapped his eyes back to the woman in front of him, remembering suddenly that he had no business being here. Linda was shaking, eyes hollow in a way that Kenny wasn’t totally unfamiliar with, and it made a part deep inside of him ache. She, however, looked at him as if expecting something, which to be fair, was definitely valid considering his evident urgency. Kenny blinked, stopping himself from glancing obsessively up the stairs in the direction his boyfriend disappeared into.
Think think think something anything c’mon anything think-
“Mrs. Stotch, I’m so sorry I-“ Kenny cut himself off, pulling his mouth guard and hood loose. “I’m so sorry to ask this, but may I use your restroom?” Kenny quickly put on his best performance, curling in on himself slightly, knees gluing themselves together. The woman looked him over with those wide eyes before looking over her shoulder. Her jaw worked for an answer. A clang came from up the stairs, making her squeeze her eyes shut.
“I-I’m not sure now is a good-“ Kenny upped the performance then, giving a low groan as he pressed a hand to his stomach. He grimaced up at her.
“I-m-I’m so sorry, but I had a questionable gas station burrito for lunch and it’s uh…it’s a bit of an emergency…” he shook his head fervently. “This is so embarrassing, ma’am, but if I don’t get to a toilet soon it’s gonna be all-“
“Okay, okay, I understand, um,” Linda squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head to stop Kenny from painting any more of a picture. She opened the door wider. “The restroom is up the stairs, first door on your left.” Kenny nodded and stomped his boots out before stepping inside. “Um,” Linda held up a hand before he could fly up the stairs, giving him an apologetic smile. “We don’t do shoes indoors.”
Kenny could have screamed, and if one more thing got in the way of him and his boyfriend, he was going to. He’d lived his whole life with carpet stains, all of which had yet to kill him.
Instead of saying this though, he hurriedly undid his laces, ripping off his gloves and stuffing them in his pockets before bolting up the stairs. He hoped his urgency read as a different kind.
Kenny was quick to ascend the steps, looking left then right as he made a beeline for Butters’ bedroom. He was likely to find him there, off in his opposite corner of the house away from his dad. Kenny bolted past the bathroom, just to screech to a stop and double back. There he found Butters, hands gripping the sink, an obviously thrown first-aid kit laying against the wall with its contents spilling out.
Kenny ducked quickly into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind. For good measure, he switched on the fan, giving the two a little bit of leeway to speak freely.
Butters snapped to look up, expression half horrified to have Kenny in his bathroom, the other half hidden behind what the latter knew to be an eruption. Face red, chest fighting for breath, hands angrily grabbing whatever they could. Tears slid down his cheeks, mixing with the blood from the fresh cut along his cheekbone.
“Hey,” Butters shook his head hard, his words on the inhale of a hyperventilation.
“You can’t be here,” despite this, Butters reached out for Kenny as he cleared the distance between them, his fists closing on the material of his parka. Immediately Kenny had gathered the other’s face in his hands, thumbs mopping up his cheeks around the wound.
“Leo, what happened?” Butters shook his head and pressed his hands to his temples, his chest hiccuping with the effort to suck in a full breath. It seemed to take a few tries, but once he got it out, it broke Kenny’s heart.
“I-I h-h-hate it here, K-Ken,” Butters wept, shaking his head fervently. “They don’t know anything and they don’t want to know anything! They’re perfectly fine spewing nonsense if it fits whatever nasty narrative they create, and they don’t care who it hurts, Kenny, I can’t s-s-stand it,” the boy didn’t resist when Kenny tugged him forward into his chest, where he shook with tears and anger. Calmly Kenny eased his hands away from his face and down to wrap around Kenny’s waist, leaving little crescent shaped divots in his pale skin. He felt his hands turn on the fabric at Kenny’s sides, clenching and pulling though the material didn’t give weight. Better that than his face.One firm hand on the back of his head, the other pressed between his shoulder blades, Kenny held onto Butters, and Butters onto him.
Kenny could see the boy’s face in the mirror, his sobs fluctuating between anger and sorrow. It made him want to cry, and though he didn’t say it, he hated it there, too. Every inch felt like a trap. Every step felt like the wrong one. He feared the house would break Butters, snuffing out that light that he somehow managed to maintain after all these years. How much could a person take?
Kenny pulled back, gathering the boy’s face in his hands once more. Wet and red, Butters’ eyes met Kenny’s for a moment before falling closed on another wave of tears, as if just looking at Kenny was too much. The latter felt his chest tighten sadly. He pressed a firm kiss to the other’s temple.
“It’s just us,” he whispered as he pulled back, pushing the other’s curls off his forehead. “You’re here with me. I’ve got you.” He assessed Butters for any other damage, hands patting along his arms, his torso. Butters shook his head, however, mutely tapping a finger against the cut cheek. He hiccuped.
Just here.
“It…it’s not that b-bad a-at all. I’m j-j-just so,” Butters shook his head apologetically. Kenny ran his hands down his biceps, hating the world that made the boy so ashamed to have such intense feelings.
“You’re allowed to be upset over more than just physical pain.” Kenny only moved to grab a cotton round, bandaid, and ointment from the kit’s scattered contents, quick to return to the boy. He gently maneuvered him to lean against the counter, a steady hand staying on his waist. “Tell me what happened.” Butters struggled to find his voice as Kenny wet a cotton round under the faucet. He sniffled.
“He j-just…” he paused as Kenny tenderly pressed the material to his cut, mopping up both wet and congealed blood. “He was saying all this…stuff about you.” Kenny’s gut sank, his hands only slowing for a moment before returning to their task and picking up the Neosporin.
“What about me?” Butters shook his head, running a rough hand across his unoccupied cheek.
“He just…he was saying all this nasty, stupid stuff about your family and…and the fact that your dad’s gone now. He was talking about the situation like he had any idea what was going on a-and,” Butters averted his gaze meekly. “I got r-real mouthy with him. He just made me so mad I didn’t-I couldn’t…”
“You didn’t say anything that…” Implied we’re together, did you? Kenny could only conceptualize the level of danger Butters would be in then, and he needed a gauge of what they were up against. Thankfully though, Butters shook his head as he shuddered, pressing his hands into his temples. His tears were slower than before, but still a steady stream.
Kenny tried to swallow around the lump that sat in his throat as he applied the ointment to his cheek. He struggled to gather his thoughts as his brain threw them around his head like confetti. He placed a bandaid over the cut, his fingers lingering over his cheek.
“I don’t want you stirring things up around here,” Kenny whispered. “Especially not on my behalf.” Butters shook his head, eyes electric.
“You didn’t hear what he was sayin’, Ken,”
“I’m used to people saying stupid shit about me.” He pushed back. “When it comes down to it, though, they don’t know anything and they don’t need to know anything. The last thing I want is you getting hurt because of me.”
“Would you have done the same?” Butters’ question was so quiet Kenny wasn’t sure he heard him right at first, but his hands paused where they worked. The smaller boy looked up at Kenny, eyes red and full of tears and deep down, angry. He sniffled. “Would you have done the same, Kenny? If someone was badmouthing me, would you stand by and let them?”
Of course he wouldn’t - he had gotten into fights for much less. Everyone knew better than to say anything bad about Butters within earshot of Kenny just to be sure they didn’t end up on the receiving end of an ass whooping. Butters knew all of this, and that was exactly why he was asking.
Kenny averted his gaze. His lack of response was answer enough.
“He was out of line. He has absolutely no right to talk about anybody the way he was talking about you, a-and your mom, and,” Butters shook his head roughly. “He’s a damn coward. He’ll only ever say that stuff when he knows he’s around a bunch of yes men like my mom, or-or his stupid work buddies. Suddenly I challenge what he’s saying and he needs to put me down in any way he can. He’s pathetic and mean and he gets away with it because everyone else in this stupid town just believes anything they hear!” Butters inhaled sharply, his exhale staggered and slow. Angry tears dripped down his cheeks, landing softly against the material of his sweater. He shook his head, a small gesture in comparison to everything that came before it. His voice was so small and sad. “How is that fair?”
Kenny didn’t need to be told any of this. He had lived his entire life fielding scrutiny from the dumb hicks that made up South Park. Eventually, he learned that the less you say, the less ammunition you give them to launch right back at you. The less they knew, the less their weekly gossip was rooted in fact, and the less publicized his family’s gnarly details were.
But Kenny had never tried to fight someone on this as hard as Butters was fighting his dad. Never had he been so set on uncovering some secret goodness within a person, leaving his hands bloody from relentless digging, digging, digging…
How is that fair?
“It’s not.” Kenny whispered, wishing he had a better answer. He reached out to wipe the boy’s tears with the pad of his thumb. He wished he had some sort of comfort, but he didn’t. So he just repeated himself. “It’s not. I’m sorry.”
Butters broke eye contact, averting his gaze before closing his eyes against Kenny’s touch. When he was pulled into an embrace, he didn’t resist. Kenny pressed his lips to the crown of his head. Inside of him was a game of tug-of-war. On one side, his incessant need to keep this boy he loved so fiercely safe. On the other side, the incessant need to let him make his own choices and stand up for what he believed in.
How is that fair?
“You know I would knock the teeth off of anyone who so much as thought about you the wrong way.”
“Which is why you should let me do the same for you.” Kenny’s laugh was a puff of air. He closed his eyes.
“You stood up to your dad - that’s fantastic. What you did was really brave.” He swallowed heavily. “I just…hate that he hurt you for it. Promise me, whenever you’re having your stints of stickin’ it to the man…please be careful. I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.” Butters shook his head from where he pressed it against Kenny’s shoulder.
“I chose to.” His voice was quiet but resolute. “It’s not your fault.” Kenny just hugged him tighter, blinking away the wetness in his own eyes. His chest pulsed with a painful sort of adoration that made his bones feel like they were splintering.
The knowledge that they were on borrowed time tugged at Kenny’s attention, and a sense of dread followed. He shifted with a sigh.
“I don’t know how much longer I have until your mom comes up here looking for me. She thinks I’m blowin’ up your plumbing right now with a bad burrito.” Butters huffed out a surprised laugh, though his knee-jerk reaction was to tighten his hold. It made Kenny ache. “I shouldn’t be up here anyways. Just couldn’t leave you alone after what I saw.” Butters loosened his grip just enough to gaze up at Kenny with soft, red eyes.
“You know, I told you if you ever saw him do anything you shouldn’t interfere.” Kenny shook his head, unapologetic.
“I’m not sure I’m capable of that.” Butters looked him over for a moment before his face cracked on a smile. He reached a hand up to his hood-crazed hair.
“Thank you for coming when you did, Ken,” he whispered, his fingers taming his locks back and away from his face. “I’d be in bad shape if you hadn’t knocked.” Kenny shook his head, looking the boy over tenderly.
“We look out for each other.” He pressed his forehead to Butters’. “Promise me you’ll lay low for the rest of the day. Just camp out in your room until dinner, alright?” Butters nodded against him, blue eyes big and pleading.
“Do you think you could come over tonight?” Kenny smiled at the question, though he wouldn’t deny there was a twinge of sadness to it. He leaned forward to press a long kiss to his waiting mouth.
“Just try to keep me away.”
Kenny made a show of flushing the toilet and washing his hands before slipping out the door, leaving Butters in the dark room to come out a few minutes later. He jogged down the stairs and saw Mrs. Stotch sitting on the couch beside the front window, looking both antsy and a million miles away simultaneously. As soon as he descended the steps she looked up and jumped to her feet, as if unable to fully relax with the other boy in the house.
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Stotch, again, I’m real sorry.” She waved a hand, a tense laugh following the stiff action.
“Oh, it happens. Don’t worry about it.” He quickly turned to stuff his feet back into his boots before kneeling to tie them up. A door sounded behind him and he peeked over his shoulder to see Stephen exiting his office, looking warily back at the blonde boy. Kenny felt his jaw clench as he stood, maintaining the man’s gaze as he pulled his gloves on and his hood up.
Maybe he should have averted his gaze, so as to follow his own advice and lay low. But Kenny had always been one to stare - lips zipped behind his parka and eyes trained on the action. He wanted to challenge the man, wanted to make him nervous. He wanted him to know he saw everything, and it was something to be embarrassed of.
Kenny watched as the man dropped his gaze, ducking into the kitchen. Kenny turned to the front door and, with one last awkward thumbs up to Butters’ mom, took his leave.
Kenny worked quickly from there, wanting to leave as soon as possible. He blamed himself for the fight, despite the fact it was based on ignorant hearsay and entitlement. If he hadn’t been outside and fresh on Stephen’s mind, it’s likely the man would have never brought it up. Then again, his dad’s absence was no secret by now, and Stephen loved to speak on matters that didn’t concern him. Whatever. Sometimes it was just easier to blame himself.
Robotically, he cleared row by row off of the driveway, chasing it with his homemade de-ice mixture. Before long, Kenny looked over the clear property and sighed, setting his shovel by the door as he knocked. Linda answered again, that odd light in her eyes from before still present. Kenny pulled off his hood and face guard before slapping an artificial smile on his face.
“Shoveling’s all done, ma’am.” She blinked, peering around the boy.
“Oh-Stephen! The driveway is clear, did you want to take a look?” Stephen appeared from his study once again, replacing Linda at the door as she disappeared into the kitchen. Kenny stepped aside as the man poked out to observe his work, arms crossed protectively over his chest as if he expected Kenny to hit him. He made a grunting noise.
“Looks clear.” He turned towards Kenny, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “You said forty?” The boy nodded.
“Yes sir.” Stephen pulled two twenties out of the folds, passing them over.
“Well…thanks.” If it wasn’t so rude, it would be funny how averse the man was to showing the boy any sort of manners. “And, um, actually,” Kenny watched as he dug into the wallet again, making the blonde raise an eyebrow. He didn’t take Stephen for the tipping type. The man cleared his throat before passing Kenny an additional fifteen dollars. “That’s just to, uh, keep what happened earlier just between us, yeah? Not everyone gets it, but uh. You understand.”
Kenny’s heart fell into his stomach, his hands going cold beneath his gloves. He looked down at the cash, dirty hush money to keep this “incident” quiet. To convince Kenny to not tell anyone about how he had seen the man grabbing his boyfriend, throwing him to the ground, parenting him using force.
He didn’t want the money - money earned via Butters’ endangerment? He wanted to throw it back at the man and tell him to go fuck himself. Kenny shook his head.
“I…it’s really okay. I’m…alright.” He refused stiltedly. Stephen gave him an incredulous look.
“Now is not the time to be proud - everyone knows your family needs the money.” The jab knocked Kenny speechless for a moment, vision red and ears burning. He thought about what Butters said, about how the man acted like he knew anything about Kenny and his family’s situation.
But, he shrugged off the embarrassment that tried to creep in, knowing that Stephen was looking for a reaction. With a neutral face, he crumpled the man’s cash up and stuck it in his pocket. Kenny would take the jackass’ money if he so desperately wanted to give it away. He’d take it and he’d go buy his boyfriend a box of chocolates with it, maybe even another plushie. He was willing to bet he’d get a big kiss for it, too.
Kenny nodded once, gaze still locked on Stephen’s.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Stotch. Have a nice day.” And with that, Kenny grabbed his snow shovel and turned on his heel. Judging by the lack of the sound of a door click, Stephen Stotch watched Kenny as he went.
Let him watch, Kenny thought, deeming the sun low enough to call it quits and trudging all the way home. Let him watch me go back to my uninhabitable house, with my strung-out mother, and my neglected little sister. Fatherless, and poor, and absolutely pathetic.
What he didn’t get to see, however, was the snowman awaiting him, Karen and his mom bundled up and adding their finishing touches. Kenny warmed at the sight, only warming further as Karen ran to greet him with a hug and a pull at his hand. His mother looked tired, as she so often did lately, but less weighed down by something unseen. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, relishing the hug around his midsection she gave back.
He didn’t care what people like Stephen Stotch said about his home life. What mattered was the fact that Kenny liked what he had to come home to.