Chapter 10: A Conventional Star in My Eye

It gets to the point where Kenny will just see Butters and Stan in the same room and get uncomfortable. Stan is nice and easy around just about everybody, which is probably closer to the type of guy Butters deserves to be with, but knowing that doesn't make Kenny any less irrationally upset when he sees Stan's hands stroke over an exhausted Butters' back as he hugs him much too close for much too long. All through the play that's all he saw: Stan holding Butters when he got too tired or lovingly petting his hair… Shit's not right. And it's exactly these kinds of injustices that keep a guy up watching infomercials on the couch at three in the morning.

That, and the fact that Kevin accidentally lit Kenny's mattress on fire last weekend while attempting to smoke his way through Kenny's stash. He's supposed to be sharing a room with Kevin right now, actually, but Kevin's room smells like cat piss (despite the fact that a cat has not crossed the McCormick threshold since Kenny was thirteen), stale nut fog, and old cheese, and there's a perfectly good couch downstairs. It's old and smells like every kind of alcohol and smoke you could imagine, but it's better than dealing with Kevin thrashing all night and waking up to his ear-shattering night terrors.

"Kenny, baby?" comes a hoarse voice from the stairs. It's his mom—she's been sick all week, barely able to deal with his dad's constant string of blatant insults about her supposed laziness. Coming from a man who's been out of work for almost a solid year, it's ironic to say the very least. However, this isn't AP Literature; this isn't a class, this isn't a story, it's just his life and right now there's no deeper meaning to the shit he has to go through.

"Yeah ma, it's me," he says. His mom pads over to him, clad in that same hideously old pair of pajamas, and sits beside him. Kenny likes it when it's just him and his mom. She's always had these higher hopes for him, always treated him better than Kevin or even Karen, and when she's around and sober and it's just the two of them, it's sort of pleasant. Kenny prays this is one of those times.

"What're you doin' up, baby?" she asks and drags her fingernails lightly over the expanse of Kenny's back.

"Just… a lot on my mind, I guess," he replies and hunches over a little bit. It's not a cop out, like answering "nothing", but it's not exactly admitting to the fact that he misses touching another boy's cock either.

"Oh, all right," his mom chuckles, amused. "I get it-you got that look in your eye that's got girl trouble written all over it." There's a slight pause before she tacks on a more serious, "You didn't get anyone pregnant, did you?"

"Ma!" he exclaims, sitting up now. Point a., that couldn't be further from either possibility or concern right now, and point b., he's only had one close call with Bebe before and that was last year and nothing happened, thank God.

"Don't take that tone with me, Kenny McCormick," she warns. "All you McCormick men seem to get it in your head that you can stick it wherever you want, and to top it all off the good lord made you all fertile as almighty hell."

"Wow," Kenny buries his face in his hands. "I'll take 'Things I Never Wanted to Hear My Mother Say' for a thousand, Alex…"

His mom just sits there, looking a little puzzled, before Kenny rolls his eyes and takes pity.

"It's like on Jeopardy, ma," he explains. "Like, when they pick the categories?"

She blinks once more before she rolls her eyes and dismisses him with a wave of her hand, "I always forget how fast you get to talkin' when you think no one's listening, young man. You been mouthin' off all smart like that ever since you were little."

"Really?" Kenny asks, eyebrows pinching together as he looks back at his mom with curiosity.

"Oh, sure," his mom nods. "Used to drive your dad nuts. In fact, I think he only tanned your hide for it a few times before you wizened up and started coverin' your mouth up with that scarf your granny made you. You're a smart kid, Kenny… smarter than any kid I ever thought would come outta me or your dad."

Kenny doesn't know what this feeling is that he has in his chest. He knows he's always been kind of a smart ass, but he didn't think anyone thought he was smart, because he certainly never did. Kyle and Wendy and Cartman—they're smart, intelligent, (mostly) forward thinking humans. Kenny's just quick on his feet and has an unnatural love for pissing off assholes and idiots.

"So, who is this girl?" his mom asks, and Kenny stops cold.

For a split second of complete idiocy, he goes over the repercussions of telling his mom that it's not a girl, but a boy on his mind, and remembers that this is his mom, not Sharon or Sheila. There's no saying whether or not she wouldn't come around eventually, but only after she got over the initial disgust. Who knows how long that would take.

"No one you know, ma, don't worry about it," he shifts, keeping his eyes intensely focused on the Magic Bullet infomercial flitting across the screen.

"She at least pretty?"

"Of course," Kenny insists automatically, a little offended on behalf of Butters that his mom would ever assume otherwise.

"Well, tell me about her!" his mom exclaims. "I wanna know about any girl who can get my baby boy all flustered like this."

Kenny shifts again and grabs at the back of his neck.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "She's blonde? She dances… she's pretty smart. And she's sweet. Really sweet. Probably the nicest person I've ever met." He refrains from tacking on the old "you'd like her", because even if Butters was a girl, he'd probably drive everyone in Kenny's family completely crazy. Butters is too sunshine and smiles for these people (with the exception of Karen, probably)—they'd torture the poor guy.

"She sounds nice," his mom offers after a few moments. "So, you wanna tell me how you fucked it up? I tell ya, you McCormick men got a knack for that too."

"Ma, Jesus!" Kenny exclaims, which of course gets him a smack upside the head. They're not what you'd call devout Catholics; at least, they're not until someone can get a good smack for taking the Lord's name in vain.

"I didn't do anything," Kenny mutters as he rubs the back of his head.

"Well, whatever it is that you didn't do, you'd better fix it or get over it or somethin'," his mom says as she stands. "I can't take you mopin' around here like you have been for the last couple days."

Kenny rolls his eyes. Of course he'd love to go over and fix whatever fuckups he made with Butters. He'd love to be back at the point where Butters touched him and let Kenny touch him. He wants to nap on Butters' chest again and help him clean the house again and just be around him again. That's all that Kenny wants—to apologize and admit to Butters that he's a fucking idiot.

There's no way Butters will forgive him though, especially when he's got someone like Stan he can get comfort from. Most of this turmoil is coming from uncertainty: should he trick Butters into forgiving him, or should he just be relentlessly sincere and wear Butters down into forgiveness?

He literally has no idea, but he certainly doesn't want to discuss it with his mother. He bids her a quick and quiet goodnight and goes upstairs to Karen's room. She's asleep, but wakes when Kenny crawls into her bed. She offers him a pillow and a corner of her ratty old quilt, and already it's a thousand times better than sharing a room with Kevin. Karen's room at least smells like those cheap candles they found on clearance at Walmart, and she's managed not to burn the house down. That probably makes her one of the most competent people in this goddamned family.

The next day, he has to go to work. He's not exactly thrilled, although it is extra time he gets to go over this Butters thing and that can't be a bad thing. He's far from devising a blue print or a set plan or anything like that, but the longer he gets to think about it, the better off the whole thing will probably go.

He ends up being at the store not all of two minutes, however, before the universe solves his problems for him and pushes Butters right through that front door. Without even thinking, Kenny slips off the stool and ducks behind the counter. It's absolutely useless, because Butters will grab a movie and come looking for someone to ring him up, and then it'll be obvious that Kenny's hiding from the only person on the planet he no longer wants to hide from.

He can't move, though. He's just stuck down on the floor, staring up at the collection of colorful gum stuck under the counter and wondering what exactly brought him to this point in his life. Butters moves quietly through the store and makes an uncharacteristically quick decision. Soon he's at the counter, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet.

"Ke-Kenny?" he pipes up, voice low and thick with something foreign in it. "Kenny, I know you're down there. Please, I just wanna check out a movie. I won't bother you or nothin', I swear."

This pulls at Kenny's heartstrings, makes his chest hurt and his gut feel like it's rotting right out of his body. He stands and barely looks Butters in the face before he's overcome with crushing guilt. He looks like he hasn't slept in days, all sallow and greasy like he's the walking dead.

"Jesus," Kenny breathes. "Butters, are you feeling okay?"

"Huh?" Butters blinks slowly.

"You look like shit," Kenny frowns as he scans the movie, Hello Dolly!, and punches Butters' phone number into the computer.

"Oh," Butters shakes his head a bit. "I reckon I probably overexerted myself with the play an' all… I woke up Saturday real sick."

"Shit, really?" Kenny pulls a face. "That's no way to start off Christmas break."

"Aw, I reckon I've had worse," Butters shakes his head and yawns. It turns into a pretty pitiful whine and Kenny leans over, again without thinking, to stroke over Butters' cheek. Butters' eyebrows pinch into a frown as he backs away, looking at Kenny skeptically, in a way that only makes Kenny feel even worse than before.

"Butters, I'm so sorry," he says softly. Butters doesn't look like he processes this entirely, just has this woozy sort of wobble that makes him quickly ask where the bathroom is. To his credit, he does wait until he's safely locked inside to hurl. Kenny's not in there with him, but he's standing outside at the door, grimacing at all the horrible sounds coming from inside. He hates hearing other people in pain.

"Hey, who the hell let you leave the house if you've been puking?" Kenny knocks on the door lightly. The only answer he gets is a flushing sound, followed quickly by the sink running and the cool scrape of paper towels being yanked from the dispenser. Butters emerges then, more pale and sickly than before, and almost immediately stumbles into Kenny's arms. He's hot—hotter than usual. Like, hospital-grade fever hot.

And Kenny's not entirely sure what to do about it… apart from hold him close and pet his damp hair and tell him that everything's okay.

"Come on," he says and starts guiding him back toward the counter. It's an uncomfortable stool, but it's the only place to sit that isn't in the manager's office, and Kenny doesn't want to deal with that jag right now.

"I thought," Butters starts as Kenny helps him up onto the stool. "Kenny, I thought you hated me."

"What?" Kenny's eyebrows fly up on his forehead. He knew what he did was shitty, but fuck. "Dude, I don't think I could ever hate you. Anyone who hates you is the dictionary definition of a bag of shit, okay? You're way too nice for anyone to hate you."

Butters moans and leans over so he can hide his face in his arms, and for a second Kenny's not sure if he's going to throw up again.

"Look, if anything you should hate me, okay?" Kenny continues. "I bitched out of fucking around with you over a text message, dude. That's the douchiest thing I think I've ever done, and do you remember me as a kid?"

"Aw, you weren't so bad," Butters sniffs and looks up, his blue eyes foggy but somehow earnest underneath it all. "In fact, you didn't turn into such a smarmy butthole until middle school."

"Ah," Kenny shifts, a bit taken aback, and grabs at the back of his neck. Butters is one of those sick people, isn't he?

"Is that," Butters sniffs and sits up. "Is that when you started thinkin' you might like boys? 'cause lots of people turn into right fuckfaces when they realize somethin' like that."

"Uh, yeah I guess," Kenny shrugs. "You never did, though," he points out, like it'll help.

Butters returns with a bitter laugh, "That's 'cause I had everybody tellin' me what I was years before I ever even knew what bi-curious was… callin' me a faggot or a nelly or a queer before I even knew boys likin' other boys could actually happen."

Leave it to Butters to have a raving homosexual for an elementary school teacher and still manage not to make it out of childhood without knowing what exactly being gay entailed.

"We were fucking awful to you, dude," Kenny shakes his head, but he doesn't reach out and touch Butters like he wants. "Me especially, though. I'm so fucking sorry."

Butters sniffs at that and shrugs his shoulders. "That's all right, Ken," he says. "I know I can be a little exhausting if I'm not careful… Jeez, this room's awful spinny." He concludes the statement by thudding his head back against the counter.

"Christ, Butters," Kenny sighs and rubs a hand over his back. Butters moans at this and arches up into it—he's almost too hot to touch. "All right, you know what? We're taking you home."

Butters doesn't respond with words so much as he responds with a drawn out moan that Kenny supposes has some significance.

"Come on," Kenny says softly and keeps rubbing his hands over Butters' tired muscles. "Where're your keys?"

Butters doesn't resist, just fishes them out of his pocket and dangles them limply to the side. Kenny grabs both them and the movie and helps Butters to his feet, standing close by just in case his legs decide to give out or something. He's in pretty fucking awful shape.

"Did you—" Butters begins as Kenny gets to the car and unlocks it. "Did you get my movie?"

"Oh, yeah," Kenny gives a little shake of his head and hands the case to Butters, who promptly hugs it to his chest and starts humming what Kenny presumes is a song from the movie. They get in the car and Kenny drives quickly back to the Stotch house. It's a Wednesday in the middle of the day, so naturally no one's really on the road. When they get to Butters' house, it appears that there's no one home.

"Man, what the hell?" Kenny asks, shaking his head. "You could've been here sleeping."

"Why would I do that?" Butters mutters, eyes shut and still clutching the movie to his chest like it's a life preserver.

"Because you're sick?" Kenny offers, but Butters just shakes his head.

"I'm not," he says in an attempt to be reassuring. "I'm bored so I went to rent Hello, Dolly! Because it's so good."

Kenny just rolls his eyes and helps Butters out of the car and into the house. Getting him up the stairs proves to be entertaining to say the least, but once they're in Butters' room and Butters is back on his bed, Kenny feels about a thousand times better. He even sets up Butters' laptop so he can watch the movie.

"Have you ever seen it?" Butters asks.

"Oh, uh… no," Kenny shakes his head as he ignores the open word documents and firefox pages.

"You should," Butters moans a little and attempts to sit up. "You should watch it with me."

Kenny glances quickly at the golden sequin-clad Barbra Streisand on the cover and winces.

"No offense, dude, it looks like about the gayest thing I've ever seen," he says.

"Good!" Butters exclaims. "You already have something in common."

Kenny chuckles a bit and rubs his hand over the back of Butters' neck. He melts into the touch and slumps against Kenny, curling into him and muttering feverish little pleas of "don't leave me". They're so pathetic that Kenny has to comply, so he kicks off his shoes and shucks his sweater to settle in for the afternoon. It occurs to him that he should call work, tell the manager that something came up, but he can't be bothered to fish his phone out of his pocket and do so.

"Hey, I'm gonna get you some water," Kenny says softly and kisses Butters on the top of the head. Butters whines and holds onto Kenny tighter. "Hey, come on, you need water. You just threw up. I promise I'll be back, okay?"

This gets Butters to relinquish his grip. He pauses the movie at Butters insistence that he not miss a thing and flies downstairs. He gets a big glass of water and searches through the cupboards for some aspirin or something. He settles on ibuprofen and bounds back up to Butters. Kenny may not be able to cook or anything, but he's good at fetching.

"Here," he says when he finds Butters drawing patterns over his comforter with his fingertips. He holds out the water and gets two pills out of the bottle, handing them all to Butters. "That'll help with your fever."

Butters nods vaguely and takes both pills, swallowing them down easily before timidly sipping at the water. Kenny settles in next to him again, happier than anything when Butters cuddles up to him again and pushes play on his computer.

The movie is okay. Kenny enjoys it more than he thought he would, but he's pretty sure Butters falls asleep about five minutes in and remains asleep until the final scene, when Kenny shifts to get up and go pee.

"Aw, damn," Butters mumbles as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. "Did I sleep through the whole thing?"

"Yeah," Kenny nods. He seems a little more lucid now, at least. "How're you feeling?"

"Like crap," Butters laughs a little. "Better'n this morning, though, thanks."

Kenny smiles back and nods. Butters moans a bit and holds his pillow to his chest, and by the time Kenny gets back from the bathroom it looks like he's fallen asleep again.

"Butters?" he asks reservedly, and Butters shoots up immediately.

"Hey, hi," Butters mumbles. "I'm gonna take a shower. Don't… don't go anywhere?"

It's such a sweet and simple request, Kenny can't say no. He sits on Butters' bed and waits patiently as Butters goes through a quick shower. It's strange, being back around him like this. Kenny was totally willing to spend the rest of his life groveling and here Butters is pretending that nothing ever happened… or, at least, acting like what Kenny did wasn't as lousy as it was.

He lies back on the bed and stares up at the glow in the dark stars on Butters' ceiling. It's not that he's not thrilled as all hell that Butters still wants to talk to him, but Butters should be at least a little mad, right? Kenny treated him like shit—he should at least be holding it over his head or something, illness or no. Kenny's pretty sure it's not just his Catholic guilt either; he's never had a problem with that before, why would he now?

Butters comes back in the room, clad only in a towel and looking a hundred times better.

"Jeez, that was just what I needed, I think," Butters laughs a little and goes to open his dresser. Kenny starts to wonder if Butters knows he's a tease, or if he really is just clueless to the fact that parading around in nothing but a towel is intensely arousing.

"Uh, yeah," is all Kenny can manage to say. He gets just the slightest glimpse of Butters' ass before he bends to slip on a pair of Mickey Mouse briefs and discards the towel altogether. Kenny gulps back a lump in his throat, hard.

"Hey," Butters turns around, still only in his underwear as he pulls a Muppets t-shirt over his head. "You think we could get somethin' to eat? I'm awful hungry an' I don't feel much like cookin'."

"You, uh," Kenny clears his throat and pulls a pillow over his crotch, just for good measure. "Do you think you can keep it down?"

"Oh, yeah," Butters nods and puts his hands on his hips. "I gotta eat somethin'. Like, soup maybe? We could go get some soup at the store or somethin'."

"Aw, dude, fuck that," Kenny shakes his head and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He's got about half a dozen missed calls and a few voicemails from work, but he ignores them all. He pulls up a text to Kyle, "Kyle's mom always keeps chicken soup in the freezer. Shit could cure AIDS if she'd just give up the recipe."

Butters just rolls his eyes and goes to his closet to get a pair of jeans. "Well, if she wants to let me have some, I'd sure be appreciative. Canned soup is makin' me feel a little woozy right now, actually."

"Shit, she'd piss herself," Kenny rolls his eyes. "Sheila's all about helping out less fortunate children. Why do you think she took in Gary?"

"Couldn't have been outta the goodness of her heart, huh?" Butters asks through a grin as he pulls on his jeans. Kenny stands and shakes his head, walking over to Butters and putting a hand on his shoulder. Butters looks at him with a little smile on his face, one that's daring him to take it further. Kenny's never been one to back out of a dare, so he leans forward and pecks a little kiss to the end of Butters' nose.

It's a sweet moment, a kind that Kenny didn't exactly think he was capable of. Butters looks a little surprised too, but apparently he gets over it quickly. He wraps his arms around Kenny's neck and brings him into a hard, starved kiss. Not that Kenny's not appreciative, but he definitely was not expecting to be so well received.

"So, uh," Butters pulls back, chuckling a bit at himself. "How 'bout that soup, huh?"

Kenny just nods and goes in for another kiss. He can't believe how much he missed this, how incredible Butters' lips actually feel against his. And god, how could he begin to forget how amazing it is to have Butters Stotch back him rather forcefully into a door?

"Fuck, I missed you," Kenny mutters as Butters pulls away to kiss at his neck.

"I'll bet," Butters chuckles as he sinks to his knees and starts in on the button of Kenny's jeans. He's got Kenny's dick out and in his hand before Kenny can even register what's happening, and immediately moves to stop him.

"Dude, 'the hell?" he pants softly. "I thought you were sick."

Butters shrugs, "I bet this'll make me feel better," and with that sucks Kenny into his mouth. Kenny's fingernails bite into the paint on the door as his entire body seizes. It is ungodly how much Kenny missed this. Butters makes it all quick and very efficient, like he's checking off something on his to-do list, and even when Kenny's left boneless against the door insisting that he reciprocate, Butters unsteadily shakes his head and stands. He's a little wobbly on his feet, and for a second Kenny's unsure of whether or not he's going to—

"Oh, no," Butters slaps a hand over his mouth. Kenny doesn't catch on quick enough to move, and before they know it Butters sort of just… throws up. Except there's nothing in his stomach except bile Kenny's come.

And now it's all mixed in a little puddle between them, soaking into the carpet.

"Aw, jeez," Butters mumbles and rubs the heel of his hand against his temple.

"Probably a good thing you didn't eat anything," Kenny says and tucks himself back into his pants. He looks up at Butters, who's swaying on his feet, and frowns a bit. "Dude, you're sick."

"Come on, like I knew that was gonna happen," Butters moans and screws his eyes shut.

"I meant that you're sick-sick," Kenny rolls his eyes. "Ill, unhealthy, infirmed—"

"I'm not though," Butters shakes his head. "I'm just… tired. And queasy."

He punctuates this with a moan as he clutches at his stomach, and Kenny feels a little at a loss. He wraps his arm around Butters awkwardly and leads him back to the bed, entirely unsure of what the hell he's supposed to do.

"Kenny, c'mon," Butters groans as he pulls a pillow to his face. "Don't… don't make a fuss."

"I'm not making a fuss, dude," Kenny shakes his head. "What in the hell makes you think you're not sick, dude?"

"My folks'd tell me if I was sick," Butters frowns a bit and settles further into the bed. "I just over exerted myself, that's all."

"Yeah, and when sucking someone's dick is enough to over exert you?" Kenny poses. "That means you're sick, dude."

Butters doesn't respond apart from scowling a little and sticking out his tongue. Then he sort of falls asleep and Kenny doesn't know where to go from there. He doesn't want to leave, because he doesn't want Butters to think he just up and left him or anything, but staying doesn't quite feel right either.

"Hey," Kenny says softly, shaking Butters' shoulder gently. Butters jerks out of his haze and looks at Kenny, confused. "Hey, I'm gonna go grab you some soup. I'll be back in a bit, okay?"

Butters gives a lazy nod and hides his face in his pillow. He's asleep before Kenny even stands, and snoring by the time Kenny's cleaned up the mess by the door.

Kenny leaves the Stotch house more confused than he's been in a long time. He walks toward Kyle's house, head buzzing and utterly unable to piece together what in the fuck just happened. He thinks Butters forgave him? He can't really tell. All he knows is that he got a blowjob and that it was wonderful, and then narrowly avoided getting puked on. Also, he's pretty sure he no longer has a job.

Today has been one of his stranger days.

His feet don't stop when he gets to Kyle's house. Stan's car is parked in Kyle's driveway, which makes Kenny roll his eyes. He doesn't feel like dealing with Stan right now, especially when he and Butters have been doing their thing and Kenny and Butters just kind of did their thing and is it okay for Kenny and Butters to do their thing while Stan and Butters do theirs and holy fucking dick this is confusing as shit. No, Kenny keeps walking until he's all the way home, until he sees the crappy old truck out front and the old burnt up mattress on the lawn. It's all just a steaming pile of shit, but at least he's safe here from confusing boys and their sexual advances.

In the living room, Kevin and Karen are on the couch, watching Indiana Jones in a rare moment of peace. Kenny sits between them, hands on his knees and spine impeccably straight. Maybe if he acts like nothing's wrong, they won't notice an—

"What crawled up your cunt and died?" Kevin drones, not even bothering to look away from the TV as he smacks his gum way too loudly.

"Fuck, really Kevin?" Karen snaps.

"Well, look at him," Kevin scowls gesturing to him vaguely. "He's got that look in his eye like Maury Povich just told him he's the father of some hood rat's babies."

Karen heaves a tired sigh and shakes her head, in a silent plea with whatever gods above that they'll just send a lightning bolt down and put Kevin out of his misery.

"Mom says you fucked up some shit with a girl," Kevin shrugs and sniffs, still not looking away from the TV. Karen looks at Kenny curiously, cocking her head as if to ask him if that's true. Kenny just shrugs and folds his arms over his chest.

"Okay, just a hypothetical, but," he takes a breath. "Okay, say you broke up with a girl over text."

"Oh god, really Kenny?" Karen grimaces.

"Yeah, that's fucked up, man," Kevin shakes his head.

"Well, say you realized later that it was a mistake, and you wanted her back," Kenny continues, ignoring both Karen's reproachful glare and Kevin's smug amusement. "You'd expect her to be pissed beyond comprehension, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Kevin nods, whistling loudly.

"I'd never even talk to you again," Karen agrees.

"So what would you do," Kenny begins and takes a deep breath. "Ugh, so it's not a normal thing for her to forgive you the first time she talks to you and, like, go down on you two seconds later, right?"

Karen makes a disgusted noise and claps her hands over her ears as Kevin lets out a deep belly laugh.

"Hoo-boy," Kevin yelps. "Two words for you, son: daddy issues."

"Jesus Christ," Karen mutters and sinks down further into the cushions.

"It's totally a thing!" Kevin defends, finally looking over at them both. "Girls don't have good relationships with their dads so they spend the rest of their lives on their knees looking for any man to pat them on the head and tell them they're good girls. They may be psychotic, but fuckin' A, they will do anything you fucking say, drunk or no."

This makes Kenny's skin crawl, while it prompts Karen to hop up onto her feet and storm up the stairs without another word. She slams the door behind her, which makes Kevin shake his head and chuckle.

"Must be on her fucking rag or something," he says.

"Yeah, must be," Kenny agrees with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "Couldn't be the fact that you just openly admitted to taking advantage of girls you sleep with or anything."

"Ah, don't be such a queer," Kevin says, almost affectionately. "Especially when you just got head, fuck. Was she any good? Crazy chicks are always the best."

Kenny makes a claim that he suddenly feels very ill and immediately excuses himself. He goes up to Karen's room instead, where she's got all her cheap nail polish bottles dumped out on her carpet and she's searching frantically for the perfect color.

"Kevin's such a fuckhead sometimes," he offers. Karen doesn't look up, just gives a hum of agreement that Kenny takes as an invitation to come in. He sits down on the floor beside her, looking through some of the colors. He picks up a nice teal color and offers it to her, "I like this one."

"Have at it," she waves her hand as she pulls off one of her thick wooly socks to touch up the fuchsia on her toenails. "Check if it's lumpy, though."

Kenny glares at her, hoping she's gathering from it just how insane she is for suggesting such a thing. Granted, he spent years as a kid wanting to paint his nails with Karen, but his dad was already mortified enough that Kenny would have tea parties with her or, once, that he wore one of her dresses to one of them. He'd only been about seven when that happened, and he'd gotten roughed up so bad that he'd vowed never to do anything like that ever again.

Except… except he's never in bare feet or anything. And it looks like it's at least a little relaxing—Karen's gone from white-knuckling the bottle to holding it gently, sighing as she rests her chin on her knee and strokes the brush nice and even.

Decidedly, Kenny pulls off one of his big boots and sets it to the side, removing his graying white sock next. His feet are like the rest of him, sinewy and long, with a ridiculously high arch and prehensile toes that are good for picking up t-shirts and pens off the floor.

He opens the bottle and mimics Karen's posture and position carefully. The paint isn't chunky, like Karen warned it might be, and with a few clumsy strokes, the big toe on his right foot is covered in a translucent layer of shimmery teal.

Himself from three months ago is writhing in a pile of his own sick somewhere in the back of Kenny's head.

He pulls off his sock and boot from the other foot and repeats the process, not realizing until he's halfway through going over them again that Karen's staring at him.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," Karen shakes her head and returns to her toes. "Except… if it's not a girl you've been seeing, I just wanted you to know you can tell me."

Kenny pauses for a second, horror settling deep in his belly before he remembers that this is Karen. She's far from thinking the sun shines out of his ass anymore, but she loves him no matter what. He clears his throat and continues with his clumsy artistry.

"Is it because I'm painting my toes?" he asks.

"No," Karen holds up a careful finger. "Because if it were a girl, you would've been talking about her the second you two went at it. If it's a boy… that actually makes a lot of sense. I mean, in this family? It explains why you're always so angry and why you're so shut off—"

"Okay, okay!" Kenny holds both his hands up. He looks toward the door and then back at Karen before he drops his voice, "It's a boy. It's, um… it's Butters. Stotch." He tacks on as an afterthought. Karen covers her smile with one of her hands, trying not to look as giddy as she obviously is.

"Karen," he warns.

"I'm sorry," she giggles a bit. "That's the most adorable thing I've ever heard."

Kenny rolls his eyes and extends his legs out in front of him, letting his toes dry.

It's strange seeing them done up like this, and decides that it's probably meant to make girls' toes look cuter, while it sort of just makes him look weird. He hasn't ruled out trying it on his fingers yet, though, but that's probably for another time. A time when seeing that wouldn't send his father into cardiac arrest.

"He should hate me, Karen," Kenny just sighs and wiggles his toes a little. Karen gives a thoughtful frown as she caps the polish bottle and moves to get a syrupy-looking clear one (fuck, what does that one do? Does he need it?). "I mean, he's just so… great, you know? He's so nice and sweet and he'd never do anything to hurt anyone else. And he's smart, too. Like no one gives him enough credit. Being with him just makes me want to be a better person, you know? And knowing that I felt like that and still did that to him… Why in God's name would he forgive me and take me back?"

"Okay, now that I know who it is," she begins, "I hate to say it, but I think Kevin might be right. Not just daddy issues, but I mean… his parents are pretty messed up to him, aren't they? And, like, so is everyone else? He's probably one of those people who wants everyone to love him, and he's using sex to do that."

Kenny blinks a few times before verbalizing the only thought his brain will allow to form, "Whoa."

"Eh," Karen shrugs. "There was a marathon of Sex Rehab on yesterday. I can diagnose you, if you want."

"Uh, no thanks," Kenny chuckles.

"Are you sure?" Karen grins broadly. "Messiah complex?"

"Hey, save it for Psych 101, egghead," Kenny laughs and throws a cotton ball at her face. He does not have a messiah complex… whatever that is. He just feels like he needs to help people, like it's a compulsion, or something. He wants people to be happy and safe and okay—

"Oh shit!" he exclaims and grabs his socks, pulling them and his boots on as Karen warns him that he'll fuck up the polish. "Butters is sick, I was supposed to get him some soup. I told him I'd be back."

"You can't be everyone's hero, Kenny," Karen says very frankly, in a way that makes him raise an eyebrow and flip her off before he bolts out the door. He doesn't even say goodbye to Kevin before he's out of the house, making a mad dash back to Kyle's. Maybe everyone's gone by now and he can grab some of Sheila's soup in peace.

Except when he stops to tie his boots under a streetlight, he hears a suspicious cracking from somewhere above, followed by a searing pain as an icicle drops and pierces him through the back. The last thing he's aware of is that it drives right into his heart.

That and Butters won't be getting his soup.

I'm back! I'm done with school and so now I can focus on my writing while I look high and how for gainful employment. Huzzah!

Thank you all for being patient, it means a lot. You're all so awesome, I can't even!

Chapter title from Nellie McKay's version of Wonderful Guy.