Wow, so when I said school was going to be occupying a lot of my time, I kind of hadn't expected it to be this much. Sorry this took so long, but it has quite literally been the week from hell, and it it was just... really shitty. I know you don't care, so I'll stop bitching.
Thanks for reading, seriously-lurkers, reviewers, and all who fall in between, I love you guys and thank you for putting up with my ridiculousness.
Butters didn't have a lot of places that he could go to occupy his time. Karen's staunch refusal to answer her cell phone ended in Butters inquiring as to her whereabouts at the diner, where he'd found out that she'd requested the day off for a doctor's appointment. Had this happened in a larger town, Butters would have been screwed into finding someone else to hang out with for the rest of the day (and being that Dougie was still off at school, that would prove difficult). But this was South Park, and there was only one place anyone ever went for all of their medical needs.
Butters managed to locate, through the use of well-mannered questions and charming smiles, the Hell's Pass obstetrics ward. He skidded to a halt outside the glass door and, sure enough, there were Karen and Ike, waiting patiently in the waiting room and looking much more like children than the adults they were trying to be. Butters debated going in at all—he'd intended fully on having what he'd come to call 'a session' with Karen, where he'd buy her whatever ridiculous pregnancy foods she wanted and watch horrible romcoms with her and turn the sass up to eleven because it made her laugh and… god, all he'd done over the last few days was make people feel like shit.
He just wanted to make someone happy again, and Karen? Karen could always use a happiness booster, especially nowadays. She hadn't succumb entirely to a cynical perception of the world, but her brightness and optimism had dimmed considerably. Even Ruby, who was a cynical bitch on her best days, had remarked that she was a total downer lately. She still went baby shopping with her and told judgmental assholes to fuck off (followed by a flourish of one or both of her middle fingers), but Karen had told Butters she felt like she was just bumming everyone out lately.
Butters certainly knew the feeling.
Without another thought, he pushed open the door to the waiting room and gave both Karen and Ike the brightest smile he could muster when he entered. Karen pushed herself up off of her seat, much to Ike's dismay (apparent when he grabbed her wrist and told her to calm down), and brought Butters into a hug… like she'd been waiting forever for him to walk in through that door.
"Hey, sweetheart," he stroked a hand over her hair. "How're you doin'?"
"Fine," Karen sniffed and pulled back. "Jesus, what are you doing here?"
"Just out for my daily walk by the obstetrics ward," Butters shrugged. "Thought I'd pop in and say hi." Then he folded his arms and gave her a look, complete with a "why didn't you tell us you were seein' the doctor today?"
Karen raised an eyebrow at this and folded her arms over her belly, the simple word "Us?" coming out on the end of a wry smile. Butters pursed his lips and made to grab his cell phone out of his pocket, a silent threat to call Kenny and tell him exactly where he was and with whom that Karen seemed to believe was an actual… well, threat. It wasn't very likely that Kenny was doing anything other than being a stubborn jackass, which meant he wouldn't be answering any phone calls from Butters any time soon.
"It's just a check-up," Ike supplied from where he sat, nose buried in a copy of some trashy waiting room magazine. "I actually have no clue why she's so nervous, but it's actually starting to make me nervous."
"Shush," Karen turned her head briefly before looking back at Butters and knocking her heels together in a little excited purge of energy. "The doctor said she'd tell us the sex of the baby today."
Butters felt his eyebrows shoot up and his face break out into a smile before he could even fully register the meaning of the words.
"Aw, Karen, that's great!" he beamed. "W-why wouldn't you tell Kenny that?"
"Are you serious?" Karen cocked a weary brow. "We don't want to know the gender of the baby. I don't want to know, Ike doesn't want to know—"
"It works out for me," Ike interjected, "since all I really want is to dress my baby like David Bowie anyway."
Karen rolled her eyes and braced her hands on her hips.
"We didn't tell anyone because they would've all tried to come and get it out of the doctor today," she said. "Especially a certain grandparent who shall remain nameless."
"My mom is insane," Ike said and gave Butters a look. "Are we surprised."
Butters snorted. Sheila, for as much of a domineering control-freak as she was, had taken Karen's pregnancy and the nature of Ike's involvement considerably well from what Butters had heard. Granted, he'd only heard tell of this from Karen, and they'd been in the presence of Kenny when she'd told him so it was likely she'd glossed over any and all of the more sordid details, but he'd expected a massive blow up from Sheila and… well, Butters took it as a good sign that there hadn't been one.
"And my brother," Karen said, like she was already exhausting her point. "Kenny would force it out of the doctor and then tell everyone and their mother. Not that I don't love him, but come on. You know what he's like."
Butters nodded. He could definitely see Kenny sitting there, waxing philosophical about what his future niece or nephew would one day be if he knew such valuable information. Boy or girl… knowing what exactly the little fella in Karen's stomach was packing somehow gave validity to his or her existence. It was kind of exciting, but only because Butters had never really been this close to anyone who'd been pregnant before, so he'd never had the chance to be excited about it.
"I-I promise I'll keep my mouth shut," he held his hand up in the boy scouts salute. Karen snorted and resumed her seat beside Ike, crossing her legs at the ankle and picking up a magazine that looked something like Housewifery 101.
"Please," she smirked. "I don't care if you know. Christ, you kept it quiet that I was pregnant; I think you can handle keeping the gender of a baby under wraps."
What Butters failed to tell her was that this had happened before he and Kenny had started fucking, and long before they'd actually started in on this little "Stepford fag" charade (God, he had to stop watching Queer as Folk), but he decided trust was better than none so he beamed and sat down across from them.
He'd only just pulled out his phone to send Kenny a text, to ask if he was going to be okay and let him know there was leftover lasagna in the freezer if he ended up being hungry, when he caught Ike staring at him in one of the most accusing manners he'd ever seen, one that befitted his brother much more than him.
"What happened?" he asked. Butters' eyebrows flew up of their own accord as he felt his cheeks tinge pink when he realized Karen was looking at him too.
"I-I don't know what—"
"Cut the shit," Ike rolled his eyes. "Your fucking twat waffle of a husband smoked the rest of my fucking weed last night. I helped you carry him out to his car after I had to listen to his adamant declarations of love for you. Now you're here. What happened?"
"What's going on?" Karen asked, perking up more than Butters felt she had any right to. "Have you two renewed your vows as lovers? Can my child refer to you as Uncle Butters without throwing my brother into anaphylactic shock?"
"Probably not," Butters grimaced at the mention of his name attached to such a title, which he was now incapable of regarding without automatically feeling gross.
"Not that you're not an uncle anyway," Karen considered, like she hadn't even heard Butters' reply, and then paused when she saw the way Ike and Butters were looking at each other. Then she caught on and, in the grand tradition of McCormicks overreacting, slumped and let out an all-too-loud "Oh, for fuck's sake, what did you do now?"
"I didn't do a goddamn thing!" Butters stage whispered, terrified that the woman behind the desk would look up from cleaning under her fingernails and interject an unwelcome opinion.
"No," Karen insisted. "You tell me what you did to him before I open a can of pregnant lady whoop-ass."
"She'll do it too," Ike nodded vaguely. Butters rolled his eyes and tried to discern what, over the last twenty-four hours what was and wasn't privileged information.
"There were some discrepancies, harsh words were exchanged, some emotional purging, a minor tiff, a-an' now I'm here," was all his head filter allowed him to mention before he returned to texting Kenny, issuing a warning that Karen and Ike now knew that there had been what some might refer to as "drama". Ike rolled his eyes and shook his head as Karen made to interrogate him further, but just when she was about to open her mouth, the nurse came out to call them in.
When Butters stood to accompany them, the nurse gave him a funny look, but Ike, ever the insolent twit that he was, draped an arm over his shoulder and gave the nurse a salute.
"We're both the father," he winked and strode in behind Karen without offering Butters the opportunity to apologize for their behavior. Karen made them turn away when the nurse weighed her, which only made Ike roll his eyes and Butters shift uncomfortably. He'd been surrounded by, for lack of a better phrase, fag hags for the last four years in Los Angeles—Body Consciousness Capital, USA. He knew how girls could get about their weight; he just never thought that Karen McCormick, who'd spent her life being thin as a rail, would be one of those girls.
Then again, Butters supposed everybody had their insecurities—Kenny wasn't very fond of his freckly cheeks and shoulders, or the way his face turned bright red when he drank; Butters had an insistent layer of fat on his body that wouldn't go away, even back when he was dancing exhaustively every day; Ike had buck teeth and massive feet. Butters didn't have time to share these sentiments with her before they were in a very sterile-looking exam room.
"Jesus," Butters breathed, running his sweating palms over the denim on his knees as his eyes scanned over a laminated pregnancy chart on the wall. "Not gonna lie, I never thought I'd be in one of these."
"Christ, we get it," Ike groaned as he picked up a plastic model of a uterus. "You eat cock. You can't have ass babies. Go march on Washington in a glittery ball gown or some shit."
"Ladies and gentlemen, the father of my child," Karen rolled her eyes. Ike stuck out his tongue and opened the model, whistling as he did so.
"This is what you girls got all tucked up inside you?" he asked. "How the fuck's a baby supposed to fit in this?"
"Oh, my God, Ike," Karen sighed and rubbed at her temples.
"Honey, I'm a guy," Ike said very pointedly, apparently at this point forgetting Butters was in the room. "I know where your clit is; be thankful I'm that competent."
"Ike!"
Butters buried his face in his hands and prayed for the doctor to come in, or for a rogue, leftover piece of Skylab to come crashing in through the ceiling. Luckily, the doctor seemed to be skilled at telepathy and entered the room not too long after, smiling genially at everyone and going right to work prepping Karen for an ultrasound.
"I don't think I've ever seen you before," she said, turning to Butters with that reassuring smile on her face.
"Oh, he's an uncle," Karen supplied before Butters or Ike could answer.
"Ah!" the doctor replied brightly and gave him a courteous nod. "The family descends. These two are the most secretive people I've ever met—no need for me to tell you, I'm sure."
"Yeah, they're pretty private all right," Butters nodded, leaning on the counter beside Ike.
"He's our secret-keeper," Karen said as she reclined back. Almost instantly, Ike went to stand by her, slipping their fingers together and kissing her on the cheek as the doctor fiddled with the ultrasound machine. Butters watched this, the intimacy of the whole thing, and made a grab for his phone. Sure enough there was one new message blinking on his screen.
From: Kenny
go awy mad at u
Butters snorted and texted back a simple heart icon, knowing full well that Kenny's reply would be something along the lines of 'gross', but he didn't care. He knew that, deep down under whatever upset Kenny was feeling, he lacked the capacity to be actually annoyed by that kind of thing. Kenny was nothing but a big softy, in spite of his best efforts to orient public opinion otherwise.
"All right," the doctor brought Butters out of his thoughts. "Everything looks good here, mom. Uncle, you ready for the big reveal?"
"Hey, wait—" Karen said quickly, covering her ears and nudging Ike to cover his. Ike rolled his eyes before the doctor held up a hand, laughing as she moved to grab her clipboard. She flipped to an Rx pad and, holding it up so only Butters could see, scrawled out a clear and distinct 'NIECE'. Butters felt a distinct warm tingle spread through his chest—not just a girl, but a niece.
"Wow," was all he managed to say, his voice rasping a little with the sheer emotionality of it all as he took the piece of paper and folded it up.
"Girl," Ike said immediately. "It's a girl."
"Ike, goddamn it," Karen groaned. "You're going to send me into premature labor if you don't stop being a twat."
"That was a 'you're having a girl' smile!" Ike jumped to his own defense.
Butters just shrugged and tucked the piece of paper away in his pocket.
"Guess you'll have to wait a few months and find out if you were right," he said with a smile just before he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He took it out to find that Kenny had texted him back: a grouchy little emoticon, and ellipsis, and, wouldn't you know it, a heart. Butters grinned and looked up, the doctor, Ike, and Karen staring at him expectantly, and tucked his phone back into his pants. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy a gender neutral onesie for your son and/or daughter."
"Oh god, it's got both!" Ike cried at about the same time the doctor rolled her eyes, undoubtedly wondering who on earth let this kid reproduce. Butters just shook his head and went to kiss Karen on the forehead.
"I'll call you tonight?" he asked and Karen narrowed her eyes.
"You're going to tell him, aren't you?" she asked. Butters shrugged and attempted to feign innocence, but he got the feeling it probably wasn't working. So, he just gave her what was probably an insane-looking smile before he dashed out of the room, chest still fit to burst and body so energized that he felt like… like he could run all the way back to Kenny's and not even be tired.
But, being that he had Kenny's car, he figured he'd do the considerate thing and at least drive it back.
He ran up to the house and busted through the front door, expecting Kenny to be in the basement where he'd left him a few hours before. Instead there he was, on the couch, wrapped in Butters' quilt, watching what appeared to be Finding Nemo. He looked freshly showered, which wasn't unwelcome as much as it was out of the ordinary. Kenny's hygiene had improved vastly since he'd moved into a place with pretty consistent hot running water, but he tended to shower in the early morning hours before Butters even woke up.
"Hey," Butters said as he came to sit beside Kenny on the couch. He smelled like cheap soap and clean skin, a volatile combination that made Butters' insides twist into a pleasant knot. He looked from Kenny to the TV and back again before said, "I thought this movie was lame."
"It is," Kenny insisted and shrugged the quilt off of his shoulders. "But I had to get that DVD out of there, and this was on the TV when I switched it back."
"What'd you do with the… y'know?" Butters asked and grabbed one of Kenny's hand in his. He tried not to smile when Kenny's fingers curled around his almost instantly.
"Put 'em back where they were," he replied and tucked his head into the crook of Butters' neck. He must've been feeling like shit still—that was the only reason he was ever this pathetically affectionate.
"And now you're watching Nemo," Butters smiled and knocked his knee against Kenny's.
"Don't be a twat," Kenny mumbled and ran his thumb over Butters' knuckles. "That's my job."
Butters was about to roll his eyes, to tell Kenny to stop being so dramatic, when Kenny cupped his face in his hands and kissed him. He heard a little noise of surprise escape from the back of his throat and brought his free hand to rest on the nape of Kenny's neck. Thank Mary mother of God, he had brushed his teeth—not that Butters wouldn't have kissed him anyway, but good God, hangover breath was just plain disgusting.
"I'm sorry," Butters said as soon as they pulled back. "I-I shoulda told you about interviewing for that job."
"God, I don't even give a fuck about it," Kenny shook his head and looked Butters in the eye. He looked a little like he was itching to say something more, so Butters gave him a little peck of encouragement on the corner of his mouth. This only made Kenny take a shaky breath and move to rest their foreheads together.
"Just…" he began, breath ghosting over Butters' lips, before he pulled back and ran his fingers through his hair. "You scare the shit out of me, okay?—Yeah you, Stotch. Don't look around like there's anyone else I'm talking to," Kenny gave a nervous laugh. Butters felt his heart skip a few beats in the way it usually did when Kenny totally caught him doing something like that, and actually may have stopped breathing when he said, "You're fucking frightening, Butters."
"Why?" he asked, feeling his face twisting up with confusion. He'd been called a lot of things in his life, but 'frightening' certainly had never been one of them.
"Because I actually fucking care about you," Kenny said. "And, like… I don't know. I wouldn't stick around with me if I was you."
It was like someone reached into his chest and grabbed his heart at that. Quite frankly, this whole day had been nothing but him pretending that he didn't want to throw up with everything Kenny had told him. Seeing him on the screen was one thing, but hearing Kenny talk about it, how obviously shattered he was because of it… he wasn't the same guy he'd been when he'd left, the cocksure little pervert with a heart of gold Butters had fallen in love with. He'd been through some shit—like he didn't have enough demons to deal with already.
"Kenny," he said softly. "Ke-Kenny, I know you got your stuff, but… You gotta know I still love you. "
"Even though you know how fucked up I am?" Kenny asked, wrinkling his nose.
"You know how fucked up I am," Butters shrugged and reclined back against the arm rest. "I ain't sent you runnin' yet."
"Dude," Kenny cocked a brow and gave him a very frank sort of look. "Porn."
"Dude, you're, like, not the only one with problems," Butters mimicked back as best he could, once again slipping back into a washed out California accent—the one he'd come back using, the one that had made his dad tell him to stop messing around and talk like a real person.
"What the fuck?" Kenny raised an eyebrow, giving a slight little laugh in spite of the fact that he didn't look the least bit amused. "Why're you talking like that?"
"'cause," Butters continued, switching back into his normal voice. "It's how I had to talk to get everyone in California—California —to stop callin' me stuff like 'backwoods faggot'. Thought I was gonna go someplace where I'd be around people who accepted me; kinda blew up in my face."
"Shit," Kenny frowned. "I'm sorry."
"Doesn't matter," Butters shook his head. "It's… okay, it's real stupid and I can't believe I'm gonna say it, but you're one of the only people who's ever made me feel like no matter what I did, I was accepted. Like, no matter how I sounded or what I said, even if it was stupid or dorky or whatever you wanna call it, you liked it 'cause it was me. 'Cause no matter what, I-I'm always me, a-an' I kinda always hoped you felt the same way with me. I don't care if you got a kid, o-or if you did porn, or even if you robbed a fuckin' bank or somethin', 'case you're you. And I love you."
Kenny sat there staring at Butters, blinking every once in a while, before Butters huffed a little sigh and surged forward, pressing their lips together so hard that he bumped their noses together in a manner entirely unbefitting of such a deep proclamation of love. Kenny laughed, though, and cupped Butters' face in his hands before guiding him into something a little more manageable.
They pulled back, looking at each other and exchanging awkward little laughs before Butters kicked off his shoes and settled in against Kenny. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching Finding Nemo flit colorfully across the screen, until Butters eventually nodded off, tucked soundly under Kenny's arm.
When he woke a little while later, the movie was coming to a close. He sat up and stretched, about to ask how long he'd been out, when he looked over at Kenny and saw that he was… was he crying?
Okay, not crying-crying, but it was definitely that very distinct end-of-a-touching-movie welling up that he was furiously trying to wipe away on the sleeve of his shirt. Butters was inclined to pretend he hadn't noticed, since it was blatantly apparent that that was what Kenny had wanted him to do, but he couldn't. He broke out into a smile and gave Kenny a little prod in the side.
"So lame, isn't it?" he asked.
"Fuck man, shut up," Kenny mumbled thickly and crossed his arms over his chest. "I miss my kid."
"I know," Butters nodded. Strange as it was, he kind of did know what Kenny was talking about. When you get used to having another human being around, Butters supposed it was impossible not to miss them when they weren't there. This apparently included tiny humans who couldn't talk too much outside of denying any requests made of him to eat peas.
"Look," Butters said as Kenny stood and went into the kitchen. "I miss him too, but… this is good, okay? Your separation anxiety is really gettin' the best of you, a-an' I hate to see you—what?"
Kenny was shaking his head and looking out the kitchen window, kind of like Butters expected a witch or some otherworldly being would do when they sensed dangerous spirits lurking close by. It's something that definitely would have spooked Butters if he hadn't seen Kenny do it a million times before. He'd done it for as long as Butters could remember.
"I don't like that he's gone," Kenny said softly. "Like, something's not right."
"Okay," Butters frowned and stood up to follow Kenny into the kitchen. "Well, Bebe'll call and let us know if there's somethin' wrong. Let's just try to focus on somethin' else. We could go to a movie?"
Kenny wrinkled his nose and shook his head.
"Laser tag?"
"I don't wanna drive up to Denver to go laser tagging," Kenny rolled his eyes, like doing such would be the biggest inconvenience he would face in the foreseeable future. Butters was about to open his mouth and suggest a heated round of strip charades, which he was most certain Kenny wouldn't play with him anyway, when Kenny's cell phone started ringing inside his pocket.
"I fucking knew it," he muttered as he fished it out and answered. "Bebe?"
Butters pulled the device away from his ear and hit the speaker phone button, jumping back a little when Bebe's voice, and a distantly tinny rendition of Patrick's best ear-shattering sobs, rang out into the kitchen, strained and desperate.
"—stop crying. All the way up here that's all he did. I don't fucking get it. Does he hate me or something?"
"He doesn't hate you," Kenny rolled his eyes. "Did you try his pacifier?"
"Oh, what am I, a fucking twelve-year-old? This isn't my first sitting job, dickhole. I tried feeding him, burping him, changing him, rocking him—nothing. fucking. works. "
Kenny gave Butters a look and handed him the phone, too fed up already, apparently. Butters just rolled his eyes and took the phone without hesitation.
"Hey, Bebe," he said.
"Oh, look, a sane person."
"Hey!" Kenny snapped, but Butters put a hand on his face and pushed him away.
"Bebe, just give him his blue elephant," he said. "It'll calm him right down."
There was a moment of pause before a very soft, "I didn't pack the blue elephant," like if Patrick heard he'd start wailing even more loudly than he already was.
"Shit, really?" Butters asked, not overreacting because it wasn't something quite worthy of the overreaction Kenny was liable to have if he wasn't careful.
"He's almost one!" Bebe defended herself. "I thought he was done with it. He was fine when we left."
"Goddamn it, Bebe," Kenny sighed and went to run upstairs.
"Don't listen to 'im," Butters shook his head. "You're doin' better than I was last night."
"Butters, it's fucking awful," Bebe whined. "Everyone keeps trying everything, but he won't stop, and my—" she took in a long breath, which meant she was about a second and a half away from the water works "—my mom says it's because he's not in a stable home with a mom and dad, and—"
"Found it!" Kenny called as he hopped the last few bottom stairs and went to pull on his boots by the door. "Tell here we'll be up there in a little bit."
"Bebe, wait just a sec," Butters said and held the phone against his chest. God, he felt like his mother. "Ken, are you crazy? Driving up to Loveland isn't exactly a jaunty afternoon trip."
"Dude," Kenny cocked a brow as he stood up. "Our kid needs us. We're his parents, we have to go help him."
"Aw, come on," Butters rolled his eyes. "Don't turn this into Mysterion Hour. He can't be attached to that thing fore—hey!" Butters ducked out of the way of his own shoes flying at him, courtesy of Kenny McCormick, Master of All Things Tactful. Kenny then darted over to him and grabbed the phone.
"Text the address, dude," he said. "We'll be there as soon as possible."
"You are an actual insane person," came Bebe's reply. "But thank you."
-oooooooo-
Bebe's grandparents (or, grandfather, Butters thought morbidly as he got out of the car) lived in a ridiculously nice house up in Loveland. Slightly closer to South Park than Butters had actually anticipated starting out, it still took a little too long with getting through Denver and everything and roadhead and handjobs could only occupy your time for so long.
"These posh fucks," Butters heard Kenny mutter as they rolled to a stop right in front of the house. He'd been alternating between chewing off his fingernails (which Butters hadn't seen him do since about the sixth grade) and clicking his tongue ring against his teeth. He'd taken out the rest of his piercings, leaving his face a little emptier than Butters was used to seeing it, but he'd figured he probably shouldn't evoke the ire of Bebe's parents any more than he already did by turning up looking like the pierced little hedonist that he was.
"Now, now, dear," Butters managed in his best Mrs. Cleaver. "They're people, just like us."
"Whatever, dude," Kenny sighed and unbuckled himself. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."
"You're gonna take him, aren't you?" Butters asked, already knowing the answer to the question.
"Taking implies that he doesn't belong to me," Kenny said as he got out of the car, which only made Butters roll his eyes as he followed.
"He's a kid, not a book, okay," he said, running to catch up. "He doesn't belong to anyone."
"Wow, how fucking profound," Kenny clipped back as they got to the door and knocked. "Excuse me while I go write that down. Meanwhile, our kid is in there with—"
"With who," Butters cut him off. "People who're grieving? We're droppin' off the elephant, gettin' him to sleep, a-an' that's that, you hear me?"
Kenny stuck out his tongue, Batman tongue ring sitting soundly in the center of his tongue. Butters wondered if that particular ring made him feel braver, like when a kid wore Batman underwear, or a Superman shirt underneath the rest of his clothes. Butters grabbed him by the jaw and pecked him on the lips, lingering just a little when he felt Kenny's fingers twitch and brush against his.
Then, of course, the door opened and Butters pulled away from Kenny, laughing a little when Kenny made to follow him.
"Gross," Bebe sighed and leaned against the door. Butters and Kenny looked over, Kenny presumably to flip her off and Butters to say a simple 'hello', but they were both distracted by Patrick, all red-faced and runny-nosed and immediately moved to tend to him.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Kenny chided as he took Patrick into his arms, "He's been like this all day?"
"All day," Bebe groaned and buried her face in her hands. Butters pulled a few tissues out of the pack in his jacket pocket and started wiping at Patrick's face.
"Poor baby," he said softly and kissed Patrick on his bright red cheek. He seemed to have calmed considerably by being in his dad's arms, being fawned over and cared for by two familiar people. Butters noticed Bebe watching him out of the corner of his eye and gave her a little smile. "What?"
"No, you guys just… you look like a family," Bebe said, looking a little distant as she reached out to brush at Patrick's hair. Patrick leaned into the touch and stuck his thumb in his mouth. He looked about ready to nod off right then and there. "Jesus, how do you do that?" Bebe asked, sounding nothing short of envious.
"Aw, he's just spoiled," Butters gave a little laugh and took the elephant out of Kenny's hand. Patrick was curled against Kenny's chest now, too far gone and close to sleep to think about his stuffed animal right now, so Butters tucked the toy against his chest and followed Bebe into the house.
Butters could see why Patrick had been throwing such a fit—the inside of the house looked as though someone had tried to make it warm and homey, but had only ended up making it feel sterile and unfriendly. Everything was kept impeccably dusted, not a knick-knack out of place. It looked un-lived-in and cold, not entirely unlike how he imagined his parents' house would look in the next few years.
"Christ," he heard Kenny mutter. "What the fuck are those?"
Butters looked over to where he was pointing—a large cabinet filled to the brim with ceramic clowns. Kenny had a thing about clowns. Butters had asked him about it once back in high school, but he'd never really explained it fully. Maybe there wasn't a reason; maybe he just thought clowns were creepy. Nevertheless, Butters brought a hand up to rub at the back of Kenny's neck, figuring it would at least placate him if nothing else.
Both of them tensed, however, when they heard Bebe's mom coming in from the other room.
"I told you, honey," she called, "I told you he'd wear himself out eventually. Honestly, that father of his absolutely—oh." She came to a halt in the archway, seeing Kenny with an armful of her grandchild before she probably even noticed that Butters was there.
"Hi, there," Kenny gave her a little wave.
"I didn't realize you'd be coming," Mrs. Stevens folded her arms and gave Bebe a look that Bebe, to her credit, shrugged off entirely.
"I forgot to pack one of Patrick's stuffed animals," she said lightly. "The boys were nice enough to bring it up."
Mrs. Stevens pursed her lips and scratched at the back of her neck, refusing to make eye contact with Kenny or even acknowledge Butters' existence.
"Well, I feel like that was a little inappropriate," she said, turning back to look at Bebe. "This is not the time to be playing parent politics, sweetheart. Your grandmother just died, for God's sake."
"No one's playing anything, mom," Bebe rolled her eyes. "Their child was upset, so they brought him his toy. That's not a crime."
"Sweetheart, please ask your friends to leave," Mrs. Stevens said very firmly, like Bebe was twelve and not a twenty-two-year-old woman capable of making her own decisions. "Kenny, thank you for the gesture but my grandson is actually in quite good hands here. I think it would be best if you left. If you don't mind, we have a funeral to plan."
Butters felt a burning sensation deep in his gut. He was fine with being treated like shit by this woman—really, he was (because he had nothing to do with her and he wanted to keep it that way)—but Kenny was her grandson's father, not to mention primary guardian, and even if she didn't like him the very least she could do was tolerate him while he was around. Butters could see Kenny tensing further beside him, could see his tongue running over his teeth, hear his tongue ring clicking against his teeth, so he pursed his lips and leaned in close to Kenny's ear.
"Guess no one's been eating her pussy," he said softly. Kenny busted out into a full-bodied laugh, jarring Patrick from his sleep and making Mrs. Stevens go bright red in the face. Butters supposed her reaction had less to do with him saying the word 'pussy' (a word Kenny absolutely loved hearing Butters say, incidentally) and more with the fact that she wasn't being taken seriously.
"I'm not going to ask you two to leave again," Mrs. Stevens insisted, walking over to the door and holding it open for them. "I'm very happy you both care deeply enough for him that you'd make the trip up, but I don't appreciate your being here at all and infiltrating on our private family time."
"Mom!" Bebe snapped, a scowl on her face that looked all too similar to the face Patrick always pulled when Butters or Kenny tried to feed him something new. "Patrick's my son and Kenny's his dad—he's part of our family now whether you like it or not."
"No, honey, I don't think that's true," Mrs. Stevens shook her head, graying blonde hair falling out of the loose bun on top of her head. "I don't think I should have to bring some drug-using pornography-peddling delinquent into my family just because someone was too headstrong to wait and have a real family."
"Whoa, now," Butters interjected sharply, ready to launch a full scale attack.
Only, Bebe got there first.
"I don't want a real family," she began, trying like hell to remain calm, Butters imagined, since Patrick was awake and watching every bit of the exchange while curled into Kenny's chest. "I don't want to be a 'mommy', okay? That's not what I want for myself, and you breathing down my neck and trying to get me to come back here to be with him isn't going to change that. They're his parents, not me."
Butters felt his face color when Mrs. Stevens looked at him and may have indulged his instincts to hide behind Kenny just a little. She pursed her lips, looking from Kenny to Butters and back again. She then looked back to Bebe and gave a disappointed sigh.
"Sweetheart, your baby needs a real home with real parents," she said and looked at Butters. "And frankly, Leopold, I don't think your mother or father would be happy to know you're playing house with a pervert."
"Ma'am, all due respect, but I don't really give a flyin' fuck what my parents think," Butters said very frankly, still from behind Kenny. "A-an' I'm pretty sure they don't concern themselves with it too much, so I don't know why you should."
"They're happy, mom," Bebe scowled. "They're a family. I'm happy having a little part of it, but what they have is theirs and it's not what I want."
"Bebe," Mrs. Stevens said, like she was trying to explain something for the thousandth time to a rowdy toddler. "You are his legal parent. You have a responsibility to provide him with the best environment possible. I've told you that your father and I are willing to give him a stable home until you're done with school—"
"Over my dead fucking body!" Kenny snapped, clutching Patrick close to his chest.
"Kenny, take it easy," Butters muttered, catching Patrick's eye over Kenny's shoulder and giving him a smile, hopefully to deter his senses of anything being awry.
"No, fuck this," Kenny said, handing Patrick to Butters before folding his arms and turning back to Bebe's mom. "He's already got a stable home. He's got food, a bed, and parents who love him, including a mother who was smart enough to know that she didn't want to be tied down by a kid. No one's cooking up meth in the back yard, there aren't orgies happening every night in the living room, no one's snorting heroin off of his changing table. We're normal fucking people, I promise you."
"Be that as it may," Mrs. Stevens began, "and I didn't want to get into any of this ugliness until this funeral business was over, but a court would not hesitate to give me and my husband guardianship over the two of you until Bebe is done with—"
"Mom!" Bebe shouted. "Why is this so hard for you to get? I don't want him and neither should you."
"I-I think we're gonna go outside," Butters said as he attempted to cover Patrick's ears. He didn't need to hear something like that, about his mom not wanting him. No kid did, no matter how well-meaning or honest the sentiment was. It was an all-around shitty thing to say, and an even shittier thing to hear.
"You're not taking him with you," Mrs. Stevens said, sticking out an arm to stop him, but Butters slipped past her all the same.
"If the three of you wanna stay here a-an' argue 'til you're all blue in the face, that's your business," he said. "But if you wanna preach about what's best for him, I'll tell you, stayin' in here listenin' to you three isn't gonna do anyone any good, least of all him. You let us know when you're done."
Butters turned and walked all the way back out to the car, boots crunching through the snow on the lawn and Patrick whimpering against him.
"I know, honey," he said softly as he came to lean against the car, holding Patrick up so he was looking him in the eye. "Everyone's got their sights set on you like you're the prettiest girl at the school dance."
There was no way in hell Patrick understood that, but, being the good kid that he was, he seemed to recognize that Butters was trying to be funny and at least gave him a little smile. Butters shook his head and stuck his tongue out, which actually made Patrick laugh. Maybe because he'd seen Kenny and Butters do that to each other about a thousand times before and he felt like he was finally being let in on the joke.
"Oh, you think I'm funny, huh?" Butters asked, and Patrick laughed even harder. Everyone he knew gave him the strangest looks when he talked to Patrick, and he supposed they may have been a little warranted. He'd always gotten along well with kids, though… maybe because they knew that, deep down, he'd never really stopped being one himself? He liked to think it was possible.
"Butters?"
Butters looked past Patrick to see Bebe and Kenny standing on the sidewalk, just a few paces away. Bebe had her jacket on and purse dangling off of her shoulder, while Kenny had the diaper bag hoisted across his back. They were both looking at him in a resigned, creepy sort of way… kind of like they were going to take him to a cornfield in Iowa and kill him or something.
"He-hey, guys," he frowned slightly as he pulled Patrick back against his chest. No one would hurt him while he was holding a kid, right?
"So, uh," Kenny scuffed his shoes on the icy pavement, looking down in the way that he only did around Butters. "Bebe and I have actually talked about it a little before now—"
"I have a way I think I can get my mom out of everyone's hair," Bebe finished and braced her hands on her hips, looking at Butters very, very seriously now. "But I need to know something first."
"Uh, sure?" Butters' eyebrows knitted upward in confusion, but he tried not to let on how scary all of this was. If he was about to be murdered in Loveland of all places, he was going to have to seriously rethink his life. He'd had plenty of chances to be murdered in LA—that at least would have been something worth talking about.
"Do you love Patrick?" she asked.
"Yeah, of course," Butters shrugged. "Why're you both lookin' at me funny?"
"Would you do anything for him?" Bebe continued, like she hadn't heard Butters' question.
"Yeah, but I don't understand wha—"
"For fuck's sake, do you wanna adopt him?" Kenny snapped, about as tired of Bebe's questions as Butters was.
Butters felt his eyes go big and bug out of his skull as he looked from Kenny to Bebe and back again. Adopt him? Like, adopt him adopt him? He looked at Kenny, who was looking back at him with that same look he had that morning, that pleading look that practically begged him to answer in the affirmative, like hearing the word 'no' would literally make him spontaneously combust.
"Gee guys, that's…" Butters let out a breath. "That's a real big responsibility."
"Butters," there was desperation behind Kenny's voice now. "I know it's a fuck of a lot to ask, but… y'know, when I see him and you and the way you guys are together? You guys just fit. And if I have to share him with anyone, I want it to be you."
"And my baby daddy gets what he wants," Bebe smirked, arms folded across her chest. "Just like my baby, right sweetheart?"
Patrick, who'd been looking back at Kenny and Bebe during this whole exchange, gave a little laugh and hid his face in Butters' neck. Butters still wasn't entirely sure that he could speak. He wanted to, and he definitely had a thing or two to say, but everything was sort of lodged in his throat. Even as Kenny approached him (carefully, like he was a skittish deer about to run off into the street with a baby in arm), he couldn't find it in himself to speak.
It wasn't until Kenny brushed a hand across his cheek and, giving him a little smile, pushed their lips together, that Butters realized how much he truly did love Kenny and everything about him, everything he'd become. When they pulled back, Patrick was squirming to get between them again, eager to be a part of whatever it was that was happening; he looked at Kenny, then at Butters, and gave a toothy little grin. His eyes scrunched up in the corners when he made that grin, just like Kenny's did. Butters felt his heart go soft, felt every last bit of doubt melt out of him as he looked into that sweet, happy little face.
He felt Kenny bring him into another kiss before he even realized he'd said yes.