...I have no explanation for this. At ALL. Oh well. Read and enjoy, my lovelies!
Disclaimer: Me no ownie South Park.
South Park was in a fearful frenzy. Not that it usually wasn't thanks to its multiple, eventful and slightly insane happenings, but those were borne pretty well by the townspeople. No, this was slightly different. No zombies, no aliens attacking or even a couple of crab people. No, nothing of the sort.
A killer was on the loose.
A man by the name of Oscar Westin had escaped from the Denver county prison, where he had been held while waiting to be transported back to Atlanta, Georgia for a trial awaiting him. He was being held on five murder charges in the first degree, but the media reported that there could be, in fact, twelve more bodies he had been responsible for, as the police were now looking into similar crimes across the county where he might have been while on the run. The whole county had breathed a collective sigh of relief when he was finally captured. And now he had escaped.
No one had known how he had done it, but he was loose and on the run again, and police reports and dog scent trails had lead them to conclude that the man had gone south. And what was almost right below Denver?
South Park.
So, naturally, all of the town was scared shitless. In fact, in the last three days, a search team composed of FBI members had actually gone on the news and reported that the killer was almost certainly in South Park, biding his time until his next kill. And that had just driven them all insane. No stores had closed—South Park was very idiotic in the face of danger—but almost everyone was carrying a weapon of some kind, taking them out at the slightest thing and almost causing a dozen fatalities—see what I mean?—which only scared them even more. But still, life continued...
Cartman put on his jacket and straightened it out as he walked to the door, his lover of four years trailing behind him. He turned to face the slender blond, face stern. "Now, Butters, remember what I told you."
"Don't open the door for anybody, no answerin' strange phone calls, and no goin' outside unless you're with me." Butters recited back, a smile on his face.
"Good. And stop smiling, it's making me think you're not takin' this seriously!"
"I'ah am, I'ah am!" Butters' smile dropped, and he looked worried. "Oh, Eric, I'ah'm worried for ya too! What if you meet him? What if he hurts you?" He reached over to touch the larger male on the arm. "Won't y'stay with me?"
"You know I have to work, Butters. And besides, I can take care of myself." Cartman grinned, pushing back his jacket and turning slightly so the blond could see the gun tucked into the back of his pants. "I'm more worried for you. God knows you're idiot enough to try to make friends with a dangerous killer." He kissed the top of Butters' head. "I have to look out for you, y'know? Keep what's mine safe."
Butters blushed, giggling. "Aww, shucks, Eric, I'ah love you too..."
Cartman tilted his head back to kiss him on the lips. "I'll be back soon. Take care of yourself, and don't open that damn door. You know I have keys."
Butters nodded obediently, and Cartman kissed him again, stepping out of the door and closing it behind him. A few moments later, Butters heard a car door slam and an engine turning over, then gravel crunching and it driving off. The blond looked around at the empty house, and a smile brightened his face.
"I'ah'm gonna take a bubble bath! Wait for me, li'l duckies!"
A few hours later Butters was in the kitchen, making himself a nice cup of hot chocolate. He loved a good cup of cocoa in the afternoon, it made him feel ever so spoiled. Eric always made sure to buy him the good kind, too.
He whistled as he waited for the milk to heat up, dancing around in his pretty cotton candy blue apron. Eric had given him that as a surprise present last year. Of course, he'd bought it for more...lewd purposes, but after they had their fun with it, Butters used it around the kitchen.
A knock at the door interrupted his whistling and Butters danced over to the door, his good mood completely making him forget that he'd promised Eric not to open the door while he was working. He swung it open, singing out, "Hello!"
A gun pointed him in the face, and a low voice growled out. "You're gonna let me in, and you're not gonna make a damn noise, bitch."
Cartman leaned back in the cafeteria chair during his lunch break, chatting languidly with his work buddies. Steven was talking about some broad he'd screwed over the weekend, and David laughed, asking, "You still fucking women? Even when there's some psycho on the loose? Jesus, you're crazy."
Steven only grinned, shaking his head. "Look, man, in these times you either die screwing or die miserable. And fuck it, I'ma die screwing."
Cartman laughed loudly, pointing at the other. "That's my kind of buddy, right there!"
Kaleb turned to him, putting down his drink. "What about you, tubby? Don't you feel worried, leaving your boytoy at home alone at home while there's a killer around? It's a small town, you never know."
The brunet scoffed, taking a bite of the lunch Butters had packed for him. "He ain't my boytoy, idiot. Where am I supposed to put him, anyway? In my pocket? He's not gonna be any safer in someone else's house. 'sides, if that bastard messes with him, he won't live to fucking regret it. I'll go after his ass myself, and I won't be as gentle as to shove his murderin' ass in prison."
David whistled. "That's pretty hardcore."
"Fuck yeah, man. This is Eric fucking Cartman you're talking to."
Steven waved his hand at them, his eyes fixed on the small television they had in the break room. "Hold on a second, guys. I think they just said they found the guy." Everyone turned to look, and Kaleb yelled over at another man sitting by the television. "Hey, Jason, turn it up, will you?"
Suddenly it became louder, and a woman's voice was heard saying, "...known for his sadistic and cruel methods of killing, involving various methods of torture before eventually disemboweling his victims and leaving them in..."
"Yeah, yeah, get on with it..." Steven muttered.
"...as of a couple of hours ago police have tracked him down to the northern part of town, by the train station on..."
"About time they found him." Kaleb said, and the others agreed with nods and murmurs of assent.
"...but then lost him two hours ago. People are warned to lock their doors and stay inside, and call the police at the slightest..."
The entire break room groaned in unison, and Cartman cursed. "Useless sons of bitches...Always knew the police were a bunch of pussies." The group nodded and went back to eating. Cartman heard the woman continue. "...police are saying that recent witness reports have placed him on Jordan Avenue, so..."
Cartman choked, coughing up bits of his lunch as he scrambled up and bolted out of the break room, leaving behind a stunned group. Jason's voice floated over to them.
"What happened to him?"
Steven looked back, glancing toward the door almost worriedly. "...his house is on Jordan. And so's his, uh, partner."
Cartman's vehicle raced down half-empty streets and he cursed inwardly, violently regretting the fact that his workplace was twenty minutes from his house.
'Goddammit, if that dumbass opened the door after I told him not to, I'll fucking kill him!' then, 'He better not have touched my damn Butters! He better not be anywhere near my goddamn house!'
More hurried minutes, then he screeched to a halt in his driveway, jumping out before he'd even turned off his car. He didn't have any time for keys; he rammed open the door with one rush of his heavy body and ran inside, immediately hearing Butters' voice from above.
"No! Stop, what're you doing?"
Cartman didn't waste any time for breath, running furiously up the stairs as he pulled out the gun from his waistband. The closed door of their bedroom was no obstacle; he kicked it open in a rage, gun held at ready in his two hands. "BUTTERS!"
He froze.
"You're going t'get it all over your pretty apron, stop!" Butters leaned over a small table, hands rushing to stop an over-tilted teapot. He was kneeling on the floor, wearing that blue apron Cartman had bought him, sitting across from a strange man in a matching pink apron who had an almost terrified expression on his face, a gun seemingly forgotten on the table. They both turned to looked at him and Butters waved happily, beaming. "Hiya, Eric!"
The man threw himself on his knees in front of Cartman, face clearly screaming out the phrase 'Help me'. "Dear God, stop him! He just started talking about hot chocolate and me looking hungry...for the love of everything holy, he told me my eyes are pretty! He shoved me in this goddamned apron almost an entire hour ago...I've been listening to him for two fucking hours! Get me the fuck outta here!" He was almost crying. "Please!"
Butters pouted, ruffling the edges of his apron. "I'ah didn't think I'ah was that bad..."
Cartman's eyebrow twitched, and he only gestured with the gun. "Get the hell up. I'm calling the police."
"Thank you, man!"
The police came within three minutes and arrested the killer, and Oscar looked almost relieved as they led him outside, still in that stupid pink apron. He looked at Cartman as they passed him, and shuddered as he saw Butters clinging to his side.
"You're a fucking saint, man...puttin' up with that..." He shuddered once more, then he was in the back of the police car and they were driving him away. Cartman stared after the cars, then turned to look at Butters.
"You're dangerous, y'know that?"
Butters blushed, cuddling in deeper to his side. "I'ah do try."
"And what did I tell you about opening the damn door? You better get your skinny ass upstairs and give me some goddamned great sex to make up for all the fucking worry you put me through."
The blond giggled. "You want me to wear the apron?"
"...yes. And tuck it up a little. You know I like it like that."