Working with Butters wasn't so bad. Sure, it was boring at first, but there were many times in which Kenny's power or gas had been shut off at home which was good practice for not having television or internet. They had a phone, but it was strictly for missionary business. Kenny would bet his left nut that someone somewhere was likely monitoring any and all phone activity.
Oh, who was Kenny kidding? It was awful, but Butters was so damn adorable that he made it tolerable. The downside was that he dove head first into the doctrine and sometimes it was hard to get him to talk about anything else. If Kenny so much as tried to change the subject while they were out visiting homes and spreading the word, Butters would stutter and redirect them back to the topic at hand.
Mostly the two of them saw doors open and close in their faces. Fan-fucking-tastic.
It hurt the first few times, but Kenny was made of thicker stuff. He knew he would have reacted the same way. He'd become one of the most annoying things on the planet. Great.
Sometimes they could see people peer at them from their windows and refuse to answer their door. It was during those times that Butters would smile and wave at them and leave a pamphlet for them to peruse—mostly inviting them to the local ward for service and fellowship. All Kenny wanted to do was flip them the bird.
"They'll come around," Butters would say. "The Holy Spirit just has a hard time getting through to them on account of all the sex in the media."
"Mmhmm," Kenny would agree with a hidden smirk. "That's what's doing it."
On the rare occasion someone would feel the spirit and invite them in, it was Butters who took the initiative, falling into the scripted doctrine easily. That was probably a good idea.
"Well you see, the Plan of Salvation sees to it that you don't have to worry about hell. Isn't that great? Hell was made up by man as a scare tactic. Even the lowest heavenly kingdom is pretty good, but the difference is that you are further from the light. In terms of light, think of it as the sun, the moon and the stars. The Celestial Kingdom is the sun, the Terrestrial Kingdom is like the moon and the Telestial Kingdom is the stars."
The mother who let them in, sat bouncing an infant on her lap and gave them an incredulous look. "So, Hitler is in this Telestial kingdom, having a good time and sipping martinis?"
"There's no alcohol in heaven, ma'am."
The look on this obvious wine mom's face made it very difficult for Kenny to keep a straight face, but he tried. Oh, did he try. "There is an alternative for the worst souls," Kenny interjected, making a motion to cover up the image of the kingdoms on the poster board they'd brought with them. "Satan doesn't have a body. That was his punishment for rebelling. He and his followers are an invisible force, whispering into our minds every day to sin. If we follow those choices, we will lose our bodies after the Final Judgement and become nothing, floating in darkness." See? He could do it!
"Noted," the mother said, face pale.
Butters perked up. "That's why we should always Choose the Right! Don't you want to be in eternal paradise? You get to spend it with your family?"
"You mean like my mother?"
"Yes! Families will be together forever."
That was the last straw. The woman shook her head. "No thank you. Not with my mom. I don't think this is for me."
Butters' face fell. "But-!"
Kenny placed a hand on Butters' knee, patting it gently. "It is not our place to judge. She doesn't feel the spirit."
It was not in Butters' nature to give up and he looked more determined than ever, his brow furrowing. "What about your children? Don't you want to be with them forever?"
The mother looked at the child in her arms. The child took that moment to spit up all over herself. The mother's face fell into one of annoyance. "I'll think about it."
Kenny could see it. They lost another sheep. He didn't blame her. An eternal existence without alcohol didn't sound like any existence he wanted for himself.
And yet, he still preferred it to eternal blackness.
He wasn't sure what he believed.
Butters always felt the rejections harder than Kenny. It was Kenny who had to don the backpack filled with the Book of Mormon and their teaching supplies after something like this. Butters would give himself a few footsteps of complete sadness, the color falling from his eyes and the sunlight fading from his hair.
And then, without fail, Butters would pick himself up by the time they reached the next door.
"We'll save one, Kenny, I know we will!"
Buttes looked so hopeful Kenny wanted to believe him.
Kenny wouldn't have minded the constant failures. He got to spend time with Butters who always smelled like shampoo and came up with fun games to play while they took public transportation everywhere. He even got Kenny playing 'Yellow Car.' But eventually the ward began to notice the slacking off.
"Elder McCormick and Elder Stotch, what can you tell me about these numbers?" Bishop Valmer leaned over his desk, tapping the printout in front of him. Kenny didn't have to look at it to know there were nothing but zeroes.
"No one opens their door," Kenny stated matter-of-factly.
"Then re-trace your steps. Come back at a different time. Heavenly Father wants his flock to return to him. You must be stronger shepherds."
"I'm sorry, Bishop!" Butters apologized right away. Kenny slouched in his seat. "We give up too easily! We'll make a stronger force! The two of us!"
And he grabbed Kenny's hand in solidarity.
Butters' hand was warm and smooth and sure. Kenny flicked his gaze down to look at the union. Something inside him changed, but he didn't know what. It was like someone flipped a switch in a classroom but only half the fluorescent lights came on and you couldn't tell whether the room was brighter or not.
He nodded to show his support.
Bishop Valmer surveyed them carefully with all the scrutiny of an eagle inspecting his nest. "It would be a shame to transfer either of you out, but if the numbers don't pick up soon, we will need to shuffle some things around."
Butters' grip on Kenny's hand tightened. Kenny squeezed back.
"Don't worry, Bishop Valmer," Kenny said with more conviction than he thought he had on the subject. "We'll save a soul."
"I have faith in you, brothers. Let's end this session with a prayer."
All three of them bowed their heads, but Kenny's and Butters' hands remained connected in a prayer all their own.
That night, in their apartment, Kenny set about trying to cook something for the two of them. They'd managed to procure some boxes of Star Wars themed Macaroni and Cheese—a veritable feast. He hummed as he worked. Butters was in the attached in the living room, reading the book of Alma for probably the thousandth time. Kenny read the entirety of the Book of Mormon exactly once and that was enough for him. Everything else seeped into his head from being repeated every Sunday for the last five years.
As he poured the finished cheesy concoction into two bowls and shoved the dirty pot into the sink, he chanced a look over at Butters, hand on his chin as he studied the texts intently.
"Hey," Kenny said, breaking the silence.
He hadn't thought he was that loud, but Butters jumped so suddenly and violently that Kenny bumped backward against the counter.
Butters shut the Book of Mormon and placed a hand over his heart, eyes closing as he very visibly counted to five. "Kenny, you scared me!"
"Was it really that interesting?"
"No. I mean yes. I mean, I just thought you were someone else is all."
"There has been no one but us for two weeks, now. Who else could it be?"
Kenny could tell Butters didn't want to explain it any further, which was fine. They'd managed to keep most of their personal lives a secret up until this point. When Butters didn't talk about the scriptures, they would share stories of the church. Occasionally they would talk about their families. Or rather, Kenny would talk about his family, about Karen, about chili dinners and about Kevin leaving the church.
Butters didn't talk about his parents much. Just that they were very important members of the church. His mother was the head of Primary and his father had been called to be in charge of temple work. Kenny got the feeling the subject was a sore spot for him.
"No one. Oh geez… you made dinner? I was so into reading I didn't know. I should have helped, I'm so sorry!"
"It's not a big deal, man."
"I'll wash the dishes."
"I mean if you really wanna," Kenny said with a shrug. He grabbed Butters' bowl and made an effort to hand it to him, thinking that maybe it would be nice to eat on the couch for once but Butters stood up quickly.
When Butters grabbed his bowl, he went to sit at the small table against the wall. "Don't want to get anything on the carpet," he said by way of explanation.
Kenny raised an eyebrow. "It's okay, you know. We can just clean it up after. No one's going to get in any trouble or anything."
Butters was silent, like he was mulling the idea over in his head. Then he began to laugh a little. "Yeah… I guess you're right."
Kenny frowned. What had happened to this kid to make him so sensitive to things like this? The way he felt so guilty about not helping with dinner struck Kenny as odd. Butters had always been so supportive and helpful but he never let himself have one minute to relax unless he was in his bedroom asleep.
"Come on," Kenny said, making up his mind and pulling Butters' chair out from under the table. "Be a rebel. Eat on the couch with me."
"But—"
"No buts." Kenny was tired of long, strange silences and failed 'getting-to-know-you' sessions that really only ended in Kenny knowing nothing about Butters but his favorite color and animal. Useless.
With a reluctant sigh, Butters followed Kenny to the couch and picked up his legs to sit cross-legged near the arm, his bowl tucked safely to his chest to keep any spills from going far past his shirt. Kenny happily sat next to him in the center of the couch with his own bowl, casually shoveling Darth Vader shaped noodles into his mouth.
Butters smiled.
"Well, hey, this ain't so bad."
"Yeah, imagine having a movie night with it. I can't believe how many Marvel movies I'm going to miss while I'm doing this."
"I'm going to marathon them when I get home." Butters took a bite of his macaroni and cheese. Savored it. "This is good. My mom only ever made mac and cheese in a crockpot."
Of course she did. Butters' mom was likely a typical stay-at-home Mormon mother. It seemed like every mom in his congregation didn't have to work for a living except his own.
"Welcome to the world of dinner-in-a-box. Have you ever had Hamburger Helper?"
Butters shook his head.
"Then you're in for a treat, dude."
Butters was so careful in the way he ate, like a cautious animal coming to a stream for a drink. Kenny ate with much less abandon. Food wasn't a luxury to be wasted and when it was available, Kenny consumed it, no questions asked. Kenny didn't realize he was watching Butters so intently until the other missionary looked up and caught him.
"Is there something on my face?" he asked, his eyes wide. "I don't have a napkin. Oh hamburgers."
"No," Kenny said with a laugh. "No, you're fine. I was just looking."
"Oh…" The only reason Kenny could see the blush on the other boy's cheeks was because he was so incredibly pale. Kenny remembered the way Butters held his hand in the Bishop's office. How sure he was that they were a good match despite hardly knowing each other at all. Kenny was determined to change that.
And then, suddenly, Butters gasped audibly, nearly dropping his bowl on the floor.
"Kenny we forgot to pray!"
Kenny's eyes widened. Even though it didn't matter much to him, it was so routinely engraved into his psyche that even he was surprised they'd forgotten it. He hadn't realized it at the time, but he was so intent on getting Butters to come out of his strict-rules-shell, that he accidentally got Butters to relax more than he bargained for. The thought made him bubbly but he shoved that to the side.
"We'll pray now. Thank Heavenly Father for the food we already had. Backlog it. He'll understand."
"Y-yeah…" Butters said, the relief evident in his face. He set his bowl down and folded his arms and bowed his head. "Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this food…"
Butters continued on for a while, making sure it was understood that they'd made a transgression. His eyes were shut so tightly that Kenny didn't feel bad at all for watching him pray. To Kenny, it was honorable how devout Butters was, but at the same time, something unnerved him the way the other missionary went about it. He didn't seem to like anything he was doing. It was almost as if he were doing this because he was scared about the consequences of not doing it. His parents? The church?
To Kenny, they were in the same boat. Neither of them wanted to be there. That was probably the reason why they couldn't get anyone to sign on or be baptized. People could smell their lack of authenticity.
When Butters ended the prayer, Kenny made sure to say "Amen" with him, and when Butters opened his eyes, Kenny didn't bother to hide the fact that he had been staring at him.
They sat like that a while. Butters' eyes were so blue… and he had a scar on his left eye. Kenny hadn't noticed it before. His features were so soft, so delicate. The minute amount of change he'd experienced in the Bishop's office grew a fraction in that moment. But it wasn't dangerous territory. Not yet, anyway. Kenny was simply acknowledging the aesthetic appeal of his mission partner. That was all.
"You're supposed to close your eyes when you pray," Butters said, breaking the moment.
Kenny looked to the ceiling. "Sorry, Heavenly Father, but I was still present, I promise."
Butters shook his head and took up his bowl again. "How can you be so, I don't know, free with the doctrine and… and the way you talk to people. I would never get away with that."
Kenny just shrugged. Most of his food was already gone by now, but he didn't want to get up. "I didn't grow up in a typical Mormon household. My family were converts so I never really got the whole… formality of everything. It seems fake to me. Faith shouldn't be some kind of job, right? It's supposed to make your life better, not worse."
"That's what you need to take with you on our missionary runs!" Butters exclaimed, leaning forward on the couch in his excitement. "Show people they don't have to work that hard at this. They're not obligated. That woman earlier… she didn't want to follow the Words of Wisdom but I think if we weren't so strict, we would have had her!"
Kenny raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying I should sell my particular brand of I-don't-give-a-fuck Mormonism?"
Butters gasped audibly, bringing a hand to his mouth. "Kenny!"
Kenny laughed, easy and carefree. "No one's here to hear us."
"Except Heavenly Father!"
"Sometimes I doubt Heavenly Father has the time to care about whether or not we say a few man-made cuss words," Kenny said with a roll of his eyes.
Butters must not have known how to respond because he was silent for a moment, staring into his bowl of macaroni and cheese like he were scrying for answers. Finally, when he looked up, his eyes were wet. "I have to believe that Heavenly Father cares for me. It's the only thing that's gotten me this far."
And just like that, the tone of the evening changed. The air became charged with melancholy particles. Kenny set his bowl aside and turned to face Butters completely. "Butters… do you want to talk about it?" Even if Butters did, Kenny wouldn't know what to say about it. Something like this would make him want to run, normally, but he didn't want to run from Butters.
Butters shook his head. "Not right now. I just think you should give Heavenly Father a little more credit."
"Okay," Kenny said quietly, pulling back the urge to place a hand on Butters' knee. "I'm sorry."
Kenny got up to let Butters finish his food and he went about cleaning up the mess. Usually if one of them cooked, the other cleaned, but he thought it was best that he let Butters have a break. Besides, he needed something to do to preoccupy his mind because he couldn't get the image of Butters' face out of his head.
Suddenly Kenny was aware of a presence at his side and Butters' soft voice broke the silence. "It's okay, Kenny. I'll finish cleaning up."
"It's no problem—"
"Please," Butters pleaded. The crack in his voice caused Kenny to turn around and look at him. He was smiling even though his voice sounded sad. "Let me do the work."
Kenny turned off the water and shook his head. "You take the night off. I got this, man."
Butters grew insistent. "But I have to do them. I have to clean up. I said please."
"Why? Why do you have to clean up? You can take a break. It's /okay./"
"I—" Butters began and then he deflated, the false smile on his face fading from view. Kenny's hopes rose. Was he going to get an answer? "I just feel weird when I don't clean up after dinner. I had to do it every day back home. It was my job."
"Well it's not your job here, Butters. Nothing is going to happen to you if you take the night off."
"N-nothing?" The concept sounded foreign to him. Just what did his parents do to him?
"Butters, did your parents punish you for not cleaning up?" The words were out before Kenny could stop them. He didn't want to pry, but at the same time he absolutely wanted to pry. If he was going to live with Butters for a long time, he didn't want to have to dodge around social bullets.
"I…. they…. Um…" Butters stuttered for a moment, took a deep breath, and tried again. "They were angry with me a lot. I'm not a very good listener, I guess. I try to be obedient! I really do! But sometimes things just happen. I fall to Satan a lot."
"Dude…. We /all/ fall to Satan a lot," Kenny reassured him. "That's just part of being human. Your parents are dicks for not seeing that. Guess what? They're not around right now. You can do whatever you want in this apartment with me. No one is going to know. I ain't no snitch."
Butters cracked a smile, but only one side of his mouth turned upward. "I guess… I mean… I can try. But Kenny, they'll be so angry with me if they find out we're not doing so great. We have to bring someone to baptism and soon! Can we make a deal?"
"A deal?" Kenny raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected that. "Sure, I guess?"
"If I unwind here at home, you have to be more diligent as a missionary. Okay, Kenny? We have to do a better job."
Kenny sighed. He'd hoped Butters wouldn't notice how much he'd been slacking, but then again, he hadn't done a good job of making it conspicuous. "Fine," Kenny agreed. "I'll see what I can do." Really, it was a wonder he ever passed the missionary interview. He'd done a lot of bullshitting.
Butters brightened up and actually stepped away from the sink. "Okay. I…. I think I might go read a book!"
"But not the Book of Mormon, okay? A different book."
"Right. A different book," Butters agreed. Then he took a deep breath and suddenly threw his arms around Kenny from the side. It caught Kenny off guard and he stumbled, his hands reaching out to the sink to hold onto it just to keep himself from falling. "Thanks, Kenny!"
"Hey uh…" Kenny said, finding himself swallowing thickly. He had very little contact with Butters save for that moment in the Bishop's office. When Butters finally pulled away it was noticeable. "No prob. If we're uptight all the time, we'll go crazy."
Butters nodded and slowly backed up, then turned around and went to his room. He hesitated a few times, but kept going and Kenny forced himself to stop watching so he could get back to washing the dishes.
And he couldn't help it. He wanted more hugs. Kenny made it a personal goal to get as many of them from Butters as possible.