Chapter Text
“Stan, are you even listening?” The chipper voice of Wendy Testaburger rang in Stan’s ears as he tried to stay awake.
It was only Tuesday and his brain was already desperate for Saturday. Every week, every day even, there were things to do, things to prepare for. That time seemed to blend together until Stan had to consciously make an effort to even remember what day of the week it actually was. That was senior year, he supposed.
Wendy was still talking, more engaged with Kyle since the two were on the topic of STUCO, and Stan kept his eyes on them as he let his mind wander, to empty his brain of all the thoughts that constantly plagued him- When was practice? What did he need to bring to Clyde’s this Friday? Did he and Kyle have plans after school or was he busy? - all of it gone. A moment to relax.
God…he missed when this life shit was calmer…or at least a little less than what it is now . Stan missed when instead of practice he just had to hang with friends, when his only concern consisted of what to watch after school or what he and his pals could get up to on the weekend. He was a carefree kid, and with the march of time that had changed.
There were two sides to Stan, both conflicting in a way that made him upset the more he thought about it. There was the side that yearned for the good ol’ days. The times where responsibilities were found nowhere and all he had was the world at his fingertips. Anything and everything could happen- and they did! The nostalgia he held for those years was something he held so close to his chest it practically welded itself into his very being. His soul had not yet been weighed down by the expectations of life.
Then there was the other side of him, the one that kept his head held up and looking resolutely forward. Whereas his nostalgia came from a place of unbidden want, this side was one he created all on his own.
Stan did not deal with the same parental stresses his friends had, particularly Kyle. Randy and the mother were stern at times, but with all the back and forth, the arguments and disagreements, the total shifts made throughout the years, he had just…gotten lost in the shuffle. The love was there, he knew it was in the way his mother brushed her hand over his hair or how his dad still called him “his boy.” The issue was that the focus had been misplaced- on growing the farm, Shelley’s upcoming marriage and subsequent life achievements, the constant renovations to the house…There was no room for him in that mess.
The one thing that did tell Stan was that he did not want that life, to settle for an existence that didn’t allow space for him, not knowing what would come next with sudden moves and changing tides in life. He would not feel adrift in his own skin, so he would create his future. He wanted out of anything related to that fucking farm and he wanted out quick, which he would work to do the second he graduated. He’d get married, have kids, lead the life he was supposed to live. Those were his expectations he placed on himself.
As Wendy continued her tirade, now onto something Stan couldn’t quite keep up with, he found his eyes veering off again. The lunch room was packed, and as he scanned over faces his eyes caught onto slightly tousled blonde hair.
Heights shot upwards and voices had changed, the years passing him and his classmates by and the easy camaraderie all of them had shared ebbing away with age. Groups split and reformed, cliques and gossip ran the halls, and somehow in the thick of it all one thing remained the same. Butters. Or Leo, as others had begun to call him when they reached high school, though Stan could never break the habit. By the time tweenhood came around, the blonde had been shafted, not quite fitting in anywhere. It didn’t help that he didn’t seem to care about any of the teasing their peers had done, never changing even for the chance to lessen their harsh words.
He was alone at a table with a sandwich in hand, not an odd sight for him at lunchtime. Despite his lack of friends, however, the boy still radiated contentment. And that in itself intrigued Stan Marsh.
Butters didn’t seem to think like the rest of them. He didn’t leave behind the folly he enjoyed in youth, he didn’t pursue the same things they all had in an attempt to leave behind the past. Instead he embraced what he already had in front of him, growing those childish interests until they could no longer be ignored.
More than once Stan had seen some of Butters’ artworks displayed along the hallways, messy paper cutouts and glitter glue now replaced by velvet paint strokes and molded clay, creativity blooming in every free space he had been given. The talent was apparent and so freely shared without shame. Stan envied that.
He envied how Butters could express himself so openly without care, how everything he did was loud and out there. He hated how the blonde could still keep that same optimism, that same cheery outlook that drove Stan crazy. Butters was a lost boy in Neverland, never growing and still playing make believe long after everyone else had finally grown up. He was lucky.
It didn’t help that Stan found his eyes roaming over to his form time and time again like some sort of moth to a flame. It wasn’t like the kid didn’t call attention to himself with how he acted anyway, no one could blame Stan for-
“Stan, either stop looking at that gaywad or ask him out,” Cartman’s snide comment reached Stan, making the latter's shoulders hunch.
“I wasn’t fucking looking at him, I was just…trying to see that poster.”
“Oh…well shit, didn't realize you wanted to join cheer squad, hippie,” Cartman smirked before letting out a chuckle.
Stan flushed uncomfortably, bringing his eyes down to the table. Just like Butters to embarrass him without even really doing anything at all .
***
Thunk! Stan’s head shot up, a dull pain radiating from his forehead. Giggles sounded from a nearby group of girls as their teacher shushed them all. After a moment she went on to continue her lecture on shapes, perspective, and god-knows-what else, the drone of her voice already lulling Stan back into a doze. He hated this fucking class.
Art was supposed to be an easy A, that was the entire reason he chose it as an elective. He figured three years of bullshit classes meant he could have a small break, so yeah, he took the somewhat new creative expression class. Sue him. Instead of a breezy semester however, he found himself bored as shit, creating things the teacher would label as “uninspired.”
Of course she’d say something like that. The woman practically screamed “smoking pot in the woods and dancing under the moon” vibes with her dangled earrings and multicolored ensembles. Hell, if Cartman were here he’d have a damn field day with what he’d consider a bona fide hippie. And of course her favorite student would be none other than fucking Butters.
The entire semester the dude had been a pest to the class, asking to help, offering a hand no one needed or particularly wanted. Stan had tried to keep his face neutral every time he offered, the pounding in his chest almost enough to break it. It was like he just didn’t get it.
“Alright,” Ms. Wilcox spoke, clapping her hands together. A few other students perked up at the sound, now a little more awake than Stan currently was. “We have one more project for the year and I am so excited to share it with you all!”
If she heard the groans of his classmates, she didn’t show it as she flitted around her desk for a moment before standing in the front of the room.
“The past…such an integral piece to who we are as people,” her voice lowered, inflection soft. “Where we stood leading to where we stand today. That is our concept. I want you all, through creative expression, to incorporate your past into your future-”
“This is so dumb-” One boy cut in rudely before the teacher shot him a look.
“ And it’s worth 40% of your final grade.” Groans once again filled the room, rising in volume. Raising her own voice, Ms. Wilcox shouted a quick, “ Pairs for this project will be up on the board! ”
The bell rang, and at once his classmates rushed to get a good look at the sheet taped into the front board. Sauntering up himself, Stan looked for his name, trailing the letters over to who he'd be spending a decent chunk of time with to see…Closing his eyes, Stan sighed, only to hear a cough next to him.
“Looks like we're partners! This'll be fun, huh Stan?” Butters voice only brought with it irritation as Stan tried to keep from wiping a hand down his face.
Yeah. It would be a long two weeks.
***
Stan waited for Butters, the library silent but for the sound of shuffling feet and books falling over on the shelves. Disgruntled, he kept shifting in his chair, trying to keep himself from just calling everything off and heading home. It would already be late by the time he got there, but at least he could have the extra time to relax. It's not like this class was that important to him in the grand scheme of things anyway.
It was as he checked his phone for the upteenth time that the other boy finally appeared.
“Sorry I’m late!” Butters huffed, throwing himself tiredly into the empty seat across from Stan. “Got a little caught up with my last class”
Stan clicked his tongue, trying not to say anything snide about the time. What he did end up saying was “What happened to the shirt you were wearing earlier?”
It was a valid question, Stan told himself. Earlier Butters had been dressed in bright blues, an admittedly ‘cute’ graphic tee depicting some sort of fluffy character. Now he was wearing a simple brown sweater, sleeves long enough to cover his hands. It…didn’t quite match with the boy Stan knew to be sitting with him now.
“Oh…well, I suppose I just didn’t want to mess nothin’ up on the way home!” He responded, voice pitched up slightly.
I mean, you already wore it all day, but whatever weirdo. Stan thought, his eyebrows raised. “O…kay. Anyway…uh, what were you thinking about this whole thing? Are we drawing or what?”
Tapping a finger to his chin, Butters pondered for a moment. “We could, but I think Ms. Wilcox wants us to use other mediums. Is there anythin’ we’ve done in class you’ve liked?”
“No, I’ve found most of it kind of dumb to be honest with you.”
Stan knew he was being a dick, unengaging at best, but what else was he to do? He felt weird being alone with Butters, actually speaking with him for the first time in years. His nerves were frayed and his skin felt tight, leg bouncing under the table.
“Well, c’mon now! There’s gotta be somethin’ we’ve done that caught your eye!” Smiling, Butters leaned in, making Stan move back slightly. “You mean to tell me the music unit didn’t interest ya?”
The word ‘no’ caught before it jumped from his throat. He did like that unit quite a lot actually. It was the one time he recalled paying attention in that whole class. But what the fuck did Butters know about that?
“I remember how excited ya got when you made Crimson Dawn. You already had your lyrics ready before you even asked Jimmy an’ I to join!” The blonde looked off fondly for a second, speaking softly as he continued. “You had real talent for it, y’know?”
Heat flooded Stan’s face, his cool quickly crumbling. “I-I mean, it was just some shitty band when we were kids, dude.”
“Not to me! It was a lot of fun being able to play with you all…Gosh, I don't think I've even talked with Ken and Jimmy since, like, middle school…”
Silence permeated the space between them as awkwardness crawled up Stan’s spine. It felt weird to even have that fact that so much had changed spoken aloud. He thought about what to say, and for once Butters seemed fine letting the quiet invade.
“If I did do that… what would I even play?”
Butters perked up, hearing those words. He hummed, biting the inside of his cheek in thought. “I’m not really sure, I hadn't gotten that far but I'm sure it'd be somethin’ great!” Then, as if forgetting something incredibly important, Butters eyes bugged out, looking at Stan urgently. “You still play, right? Oh gosh, I didn't even think to ask!”
“Uh, yeah, I do,” Stan chuckled, coughing slightly to mask it. “Not the same stuff as before but I still picked up my guitar a little.”
“Oh! What sorts of things do you play?”
His cheeks flushed as Stan thought about that. He…didn't play so much as drunkenly perform . At kickbacks when he had a few too many beers, that loose feeling flowing through his bloodstream to every extremity, Stan had been known to pick up a guitar when one was available.
It wasn't ever anything real though, small popular riffs everyone knew by heart or the occasional reference to some obscure band he and his friends happened to know. And drunken fingers didn't exactly count for precision, Stan had found out after one video of him was posted on Facebook. But that was fine. It was silly and fun and nothing serious.
The stuff he wrote as a kid was too personal, too close.
As if Butters could read Stan's mind, he dropped the subject, instead filling the space with some sort of babble on other ideas Stan couldn't keep a focus on.
Later that evening as he lay in bed, Stan let himself think back.
The anger he had felt that age, at the move, the distance he had already felt with his friends now physically growing, his father’s increasing insistence for the family to be involved in his business, fucking everything. His body had been too small for that rage. He needed an outlet, Kenny had suggested, something to funnel his thoughts and energy elsewhere. Kevin’s CD collection is what truly got the idea to start a band going, the two boys happily listening to whatever musician the older brother had been blasting that week. It was pure inspiration to Stan.
They were boyish attempts at lyrics, but damn if it didn’t feel good to put pen to paper, laying out that anger like sweet poetry, a love song to hate. It was like he could finally dump those frustrations into something else and actually make something out of it, make something out of himself. Stan remembered so well how it felt to actually play those feelings out, to be seen and so clearly heard.
And Butters had noticed.
He noticed and remembered. He complimented Stan on it. And that struck a chord in the dark haired boy’s body.
***
“A showcase?”
“Yeah!” Butters exclaimed, tugging at his sleeves. The blonde had appeared at Stan’s locker the next morning, far more cheerful than needed for the hour it was. “I mean, it was a small idea after we talked yesterday, but then you mentioned playing-”
“I said I might , not that I would.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Stan sighed. “What else do you have?”
“Oh, uh, well,” he fidgeted, eyes darting away from Stan’s. “I thought it would be kind of cool to use polaroids….like take pictures of us now and I could…paint our younger selves…in?”
“Aren’t those like, super small or whatever?”
“I’ve been tryin’ my hand at small detailing!” Butters eyes once again took a shine, excitement filling his words. “We could hang them all up and let our friends walk around and look at em’!”
Stan refrained from asking who he actually thought were his ‘friends.’ Part of him wanted to veto the idea. It seemed like too much effort, too much time to spend on some stupid concept in some stupid class. However, it was the passion directed his way that made him rethink the statement, the thought that Butters just wanted to share what he did with abandon…it almost made Stan wish to feel the same.
Well…Stan could use a good grade on this, and if anyone could get that grade for him it’d be this guy.
“...Fine.”
“Awesome!” Reaching into his pocket, Butters brought out his phone and handed it to Stan. “I should probably have your number so we can plan things, right?”
Reluctantly, Stan took it, noting how old of a model it actually was. The screen had been cracked on one edge, and overall it…looked busted. Choosing not to say anything, he put in his number and let the blonde flounce off.
“What did Leo want?”
Stan jolted, turning around to find Kenny leaned against the unopened lockers next to his. “Just some shit about a project, nothing much.”
“Well he sure seemed happy,” Kenny kept his step along with Stan’s as the two began their trek to class. “Haven’t even seen the two of you together since like what? Sixth grade?”
A memory shot into Stan’s skull quicker than he could stop it. That first year of change, where the popularity hierarchy had only been just the smallest of contests. With puberty running rampant, pimples and cracked voices, Stan felt the insecurities pile up. His chance to give himself a leg up in the cruel world of preteens came in the form of football.
The other boys were undoubtedly like himself. Insecure with a childish need to prove themselves as something more. It was the older teammates that ran the show, the beginnings of toxic masculinity making itself known in the teases and veiled bullying they carried out.
Butters had unfortunately been a subject of that bullying. Stan knew it wasn't the nicest thing to do, but that didn’t mean he was strong willed enough not to follow. He had joined in on the insults behind closed doors, ragging on the poor boy along with the others. He had reasoned that it wasn’t to Butter’s face, so what was the harm?
It had been the Friday before their first school dance when Butters walked up to his little quartet, by then still close as could be. The blonde had to clear his throat more than once to be noticed, though thinking back, Stan considers that perhaps they had been blatantly trying to ignore him.
“Heya fellas! Are ya’ll lookin’ forward to tonight!” His voice had been particularly bad out of the boys, raising and lowering in pitch enough to make anyone cringe.
“Uh, yeah Butters. Sure are.” Kyle had given him a kind smile, though Stan could see the tension in his jaw. It had appeared the pressures of social ranking had even touched his best friend.
“Are ya guys getting ready together?” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Butters outright beamed at them. “I was thinkin’ we could get together like ol’ times, maybe after we could even have a sleepover! I just got one of them-”
“Butters, we don’t want a fucking playdate with you.”
The words dropped from Stan’s mouth like bricks, hitting the floor hard. It wasn't something that would normally come from him, but weeks of locker room talk had created a bit of a habit.
Butters had faltered for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching down for a split second. “Well, I know it’s not a playdate, I just meant-”
“We already have plans, man. Sorry.” Stan said, forcing himself to turn away but not before catching the way Butters eyes looked, the warmth there dimming. He went back to engaging his friends in conversation while Butters, for once in his life, took the hint, saying a quiet goodbye and heading elsewhere.
The cruelty of middle school touched everyone, Stan had told himself. He was self aware enough to know that. He knew his place on that social ladder and at the time to give it up by mingling with an ‘undesirable’ might as well have been equal to going up against a firing squad. But even in knowing that, Stan felt no comfort.
The image of those eyes replayed in Stan’s mind, making him wince. It was such a small moment, but regardless it still filled him with a shock of shame.
“Yeah…wasn’t a good time for any of us was it?” Kenny chuckled, slinging an arm around Stan. “But I don't think he took it to heart! The little guy is still the same as always.”
Stan could only agree, letting his mind drift as they set off towards class.
***
“Okay so…what do you need me to do exactly?” Stan had been sitting across from Butters in art, the last little time before the day ended given to them for discussion.
“Well, uh…I know you guys go to those parties. I was thinkin’ it might be a good opportunity to take some of those polaroids…” the blonde explained, keeping his eyes down on the table.
“Well why can't you-” Stan started, halting the question. He knew the answer, and so did Butters. “What sorts of pictures do you need?”
“Just some of everyone havin’ a bit of fun! Nothin’ too posed, just maybe some candids.”
Stan clicked his tongue, scratching the light scruff on his chin. When he agreed to this he didn't think about what it would entail, that he would have to take photos of his friends. It didn't help that he knew how those parties usually got- sloppy with drunken hookups and damaged property of some sort.
But there was the time before things got to that point. The talks around bonfires, the slightly tipsy dancing, that sweet spot before things devolved into teenage chaos.
It could work.
“Yeah, sure Butters. I could do that.”
“Awesome possum! I got one of those fancy cameras for Christmas so we can use that,” Butters said, pulling out a pastel blue camera from his bag and sliding it across the table. “It came with those little paper things for the pictures and all.”
Stan chose not to comment on how it all seemed…so new. Untouched. Like Butters had not had a reason to use it even though he had been given it months prior.
“So, have you given any more thoughts to playin’?”
“Huh?” Stan's head snapped back up, tilted in question.
“The guitar? Since it's kind of like a lil’ showcase, some music might be a good bit of atmosphere.”
“No, no, I..I don't think I want to.”
“Well why not?”
That was certainly a question. It wasn't like Stan didn't have the instrument anymore, it was still stashed in his room. But there was this queasy feeling that settled over him at the thought of playing.
The thought of doing so in front of his classmates. His friends. Those that saw him in the image he wanted them to see him as. It was one thing to play a small riff as a party trick but to create something for a project somehow felt personal. Too intimate for his liking. And that's not even taking into account how many years it had been since he actually tried playing something original.
“I just don't feel like it, Butters.”
Butters stayed silent for a moment, eyes roaming over Stan's face as if trying to read between the lines. “That's okay, Stan. I get it.” The bell rang, making the both of them look up. Shooting him one last smile, Butters got up and turned to Stan. “Just let me know how the pictures come out! See ya later!”
If there was a reason why his eyes chose to follow the other boy's form, even after he had completely left the room, Stan didn't acknowledge it. He wouldn't.
***
“What if you brought him?”
It was Friday, and for once the lunch didn't taste absolutely disgusting as Stan dug into his food.
“Brought who?” Stan spouted, a small amount of spittle coming out as he tried to keep chewing on his bite of sandwich. Kyle just looked disgusted.
“Butters. Just bring him to the party or whatever.” Throwing over a napkin, Kyle averted his eyes from the mess that was his best friend.
“Why in the hell would I bring him? It's not his scene.”
“You just said you weren't sure how to go about the pictures,” Kyle deadpanned, “and it's a party, not a fucking play.”
“You know what I mean, he's not exactly…a party kind of guy.” Stan took another large bite as he said this, getting the hint and keeping his mouth closed. And it's not like he'd have anyone to talk to…just Stan.
“I don't think anyone's ever invited him out before, so who knows?” Kyle sighed long and low, picking at his tray. “He's not a bad guy, just a little…odd.”
“Then why don't you invite him?” Stan snapped.
“I'm not the one he's partnered up with for a project,” the redhead shot back, “besides, out of all of us he always liked you the best.”
He did? Stan had to ponder that statement for a moment while his friend stabbed the peas in front of him.
Butters always just hung around them as kids, there on the sidelines and only included when needed. Stan assumed it was Cartman he had been closest to, though that was mostly due to the boy's constant schemes. Now that he thought about it, he supposed Butters was there for him in particular, close at sleepovers and making those nice little comments, helping where he could. He did seem to have a soft spot for Stan.
Stan could recall those times he needed an ear and an extra hand, Butters one of the first people to step up to the task. He particularly remembers his short stint as a vegetarian, egged on by the saving of those baby cows. Butters had been so eager to help, to be involved.
It was laughable how much of a bleeding heart Stan had been as a kid, and even when his friends had their teasing comments to make on it, Butters never did. He understood Stan , as embarrassing as that might've felt to acknowledge even at the time. Butters had been there for him as much as Stan let him, even when they were all particularly awful to the boy.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to extend an invitation, if only for the project at hand. And it wasn't so bad that when said invite was given the blonde had wrapped his arms around Stan's neck in a quick hug. It wasn't so bad at all to feel that warmth bloom in his chest.
***
“Well gee! I think just about everyone in our class is in there! Whaddya think, Stan?”
Butters had been bouncing on the edge of his seat since Stan picked him up. He had been instructed to pull a few houses down and Butters had already been waiting for him.
“Looks like Clyde promised the good shit,” Stan said in response, pulling the gear in park and throwing open the door.
Music pounded from inside, the open windows letting the sound freely travel through the air and down the streets. Surely there'll be noise complaints by morning, but that was an issue for tomorrow Clyde, Stan thought. Walking inside he was greeted with hellos and a few head nods, his feet carrying him the familiar path towards the Donovan's kitchen.
Stopping briefly at the doorway, allowing another person through, Stan felt a weight hit his back.
“Oh, sorry Stan! I just didn't wanna lose ya!” Butters' chipper voice only barely sounded over the din.
Stan felt his eye twitch, seeing some of the looks shot their way. “S’fine, dude, just… grab a drink.”
Once beers had been situated, Stan led them both outside. The fire pit hadn't been burning very long, the smell of flames not quite as strong as it would be soon enough. He could already spot the familiar faces of Bebe and Wendy, Kenny and Craig, even some other friends a little further into the yard. A fumbling at his side made Stan look down.
Butters had already begun getting out the camera, messing around with the paper he needed to put in. Stan caught a few weary gazes before he huffed.
“Hey man, just relax a bit before we start with the pictures, alright?”
“But don't we need-”
“If you want people to look comfortable, you need to give them some time.” Stan had only meant to stop whatever uncomfortable confrontation may happen if the blonde started whipping around a camera, but the more he spoke the more sense it made. Things would look more natural if they were actually having fun first.
Dragging over a few chairs, Stan slumped into his, cracking open his beer and taking a large gulp. God he needed this. He needed the ease of self alcohol could give him, letting those muscles unwind under the fabric of his shirt, letting those worries fall away.
Stan let his eyes fall on those he considered friends talked, laughter pouring out so easily. He saw the smiles, the crinkles at the corners of their eyes, the happiness that came from this. Even though he was there Stan couldn't feel that same energy in his bones, couldn't will himself to act as they did, but at least he could bask in it all and try to soak up the rays.
It was the coughing next to him that startled Stan out of those thoughts. Butters apparently was not equipped to deal with the taste of beer, taking the smallest sips with an extreme grimace. He nearly laughed as the blonde attempted a rather brave gulp only to cough once more.
“Jesus, I don't know how you drink this stuff!”
“Choke it down I guess,” Stan chuckled, taking another large sip, “it's more about the buzz than the flavor.”
Blue eyes watched as Butters considered that statement. They saw how his eyebrows scrunched in disbelief, and then how the other's face then turned into an expression of mirth. Those eyes traveled downward to the bottle in hand, small slim fingers tapping the glass before tightening and bringing it up to plump lips.
Stan averted his gaze before the heat could rise.
“What's with the camera, guys?” Wendy had come over, dragging a rather irritated looking Bebe behind her. “Hi Butters, glad to see you out and about!”
“Haha, yeah, Stan invited me! Wasn't that nice?”
“ So nice…” Bebe cut in, rolling her eyes.
“Hiya Bebe, you sure do look pretty tonight!” Butters said sweetly, and Stan could see the effect on the girl immediately as she preened. “Um, well, we were hoping to get some photos for our project…”
“What kind of photos?”
Butters took the job of explaining things, allowing Stan to just observe the interaction. It seemed like the girls were more than pleased, nodding enthusiastically to whatever Butters had been saying. Slightly messy blonde hair bounced as he spoke, his arms gesturing in excitement with every word that came out of him. It was…really cute if Stan was honest.
“Right, Stan?”
“What?” Stan's wide eyes snapped back at attention.
“That everyone should just hang out and act natural, right?” With a small head tilt, Butters gave him a look of concern. “Are you alright?”
Stan shook his head of those previous thoughts before nodding. “Yep, not a problem.” Swallowing the rest of his beer, he tried to keep his focus.
Which became increasingly difficult as the night wore on. With that one chat with the girls, Butters had apparently been deemed as acceptable, others allowing him to bring out his little camera and take a few shots here and there. Stan felt a bit guilty not helping, despite there only being a singular camera, but the blonde reassured him that he could enjoy himself.
So Stan attempted to do just that. He tried to speak to his friends, play a round of beer pong, shoot the shit, and yet in every quiet moment Stan found his gaze wandering to the shorter boy, his form hunched in corners and along walls as he clicked away.
A feeling in Stan's chest grew at the sight, seeing how Butters would snap a photo, show his subjects and even laugh a little with them. It all felt so normal, like he was supposed to be there. That smile he wore so often was wide and genuine as he talked, and Stan could not keep his eyes away.
It was then an idea occurred to him.
Butters had set down his camera when Kenny invited him over to talk with Kyle. With the alcohol in his system Butters seemed to really loosen up, no longer sticking close with his raven haired partner and now freely moving around the party like this was just another Friday night for him. Thinking quick, Stan grabbed the pastel blue device.
It was a little odd figuring out how to handle it at first, but Stan stayed steady. Keeping slow, he aimed through the viewfinder as well as he could, making sure Butters was in frame with the other two, and snapped a photo. The polaroid came out quickly, and with sure hands Stan plucked it up and shook the small piece of paper.
His face perfectly captured the warm glow of the fire, mouth open in laughter while Kenny was very obviously saying some sort of inappropriate joke. The unabashed joy Butters could show, even through a picture frozen in time, awed Stan. It wasn't just a picture, it was like the feeling itself had been captured, now able to be shared as Stan himself felt a rush of delight seeing it.
“Hey Stanny boy! Let's get a photo of you and Leo before he gets too sloshed!” In the time it took Stan to admire the scene he captured, Kenny had strolled up, arms already pushing Stan towards his little group. “C’mon Butters, one more and then you gotta let yourself enjoy the rest of the night, yeah?”
Even in the low light of the pit could Stan see the flush on Butters’ cheeks. He had certainly had enough alcohol, Stan thought, already sauntering up beside him. Kenny snatched the camera away, stepping back to prepare his shot.
“Stan, you have to smile, sourpuss!” Kenny teased.
“Yeah Stan!” Butters’ slightly slurred voice rang out beside him, and Stan didn't even have to look down to see the smile he heard. “If you don't, how will people know you had a good time?”
This time Stan did look down, and for a brief second his heart stopped. Butters was close, big blue eyes shining and flickering with light. His toothy little grin was on full display, beamed up at Stan like somehow he deserved it.
It was better than a picture, Stan heard his mind say before his own lips turned up wide. A click and a flash sounded, breaking the two from their trance.
“Beautiful, beautiful! Now let's get some of those drinking games goin’! I wanna forget things!” Kenny shouted into the sky, grabbing Butters around the shoulders and beginning to lead him inside.
“Actually guys- guys! ” Stan interrupted, a little loudly it seemed by how confused his friends looked. “I think it's about time for Butters and I to head out. I, uh, have to be up a bit early tomorrow.”
“You do?” Kyle raised a brow.
“Yeah, dads got some extra shit on the farm for me to do. You know how he is,” Stan explained, shuffling his feet. It wasn't technically untrue, but he wasn't going to tell them he had been planning to skip out on it. “Coming, Butters?”
“Sure thing!” Grabbing his camera Butters shouted out a quick goodbye as he stumbled to make his way back to Stan.
When Butters had caught up to Stan's strides, his little hand found its way into the crook of a muscular arm. It was a small motion to keep the blonde upright, but Stan felt the warmth bleed through the layers of clothing, burning right into his skin.
The car ride was quiet, Butters tipsy little self happy to watch the houses pass by the window. Just as he had before, Stan pulled up a few residences down.
All that could be heard in the cab was their slow, quiet breaths. Stan drummed his hands along the wheel, unsure of what to say or what to do. He had done his duty for the night, and all those odd thoughts he had been having were due to the alcohol, he reasoned. Things could go back to normal. Things could go back to how they-
“Thank you,” Butters’ soft words hit Stan’s ears, quieting all that was going on in his head. “That was…more fun than I had hoped it would be.”
“It's no problem, dude. It's just a party.”
“I don't get invited to these things. I know that, you know that, everyone does.” A few beats passed. “I know it was for our project, but still…it was the nicest night I've had a while.”
Stan didn’t know how to respond to that, his head swimming from his own buzz. He pondered repeating himself, shaking off those kind words, but before he could Butters leaned towards him and swiftly placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. And just as fast as that happened, the blonde was out of his car and speeding down the sidewalk.