Kenny couldn't believe Elder Marsh was alone.

He poked his head out into the hallway, double checking that Elder Malkinson wasn't just around the corner.

Elder Marsh gave a short wave, looking for all the world like he was offended by whatever expression happened to be on Kenny's face. "Hey. Elder Malkinson's having a sick day. He has diabetes and I think something went awry yesterday at a ward member's house with the food. He'll be fine."

Butters gasped from the kitchen. "You're not supposed to go anywhere alone!" he cried.

Elder Marsh shrugged. "I know. Two by two and all that." He looked so much more genuine in his civilian clothing, with even a blue and red poofball hat to keep out the cold air. "But when the Lord calls you somewhere, you just have to follow, you know?"

"Yeah…" Kenny said offhandedly. And when his dick called out to him, he just had to follow. It and the Lord were so much alike in that respect.

Kenny moved to the side to let Elder Marsh in and shut the door behind him. This was a good thing, Kenny thought. At least with only one of them, any shots at how bad they were doing would be easier to deflect. That, and Elder Malkinson had rubbed him the wrong way. Something about that guy was just off. Elder Marsh might have been the poster boy for missionaries, but at least he was easy on the eyes and that's what really mattered, right?

"Wow," Elder Marsh gave out a low whistle of approval as he made his way into the apartment. He spun around in the main room and even peeked through the large vertical blinds to the parking lot below. "You have a nice apartment. Bigger than ours."

"How can you get much smaller than this?" Butters asked, now finishing up the dishes and drying his hands on a towel.

Elder Marsh groaned. "One bedroom. Two beds crammed in there. Sco—Elder Malkinson snores."

"Oh man," Kenny said, "sorry dude, that sucks." Although at this point, he wouldn't be entirely angry with sharing a room with Butters. If he did that, he'd probably find ways to make his mission partner faint from all the blushing. Oh, who was he kidding, he would /definitely/ do that. New Year's Resolutions could be made in February, right?

"Hey uh, Elder Marsh?" Butters piped up.

"Oh dude," Elder Marsh waved a hand in the air. "Call me Stan. It's Monday and I need a break, too."

"R-right. Stan," said Butters. "Well you can call me Butters."

"Butters?" said Stan.

Kenny shrugged. "It's what he's used to." That, and he wasn't about to share the nickname Leo with anyone else. "I'm Kenny."

"Butters and Kenny," Stan repeated, testing out the names. In that moment, with the three of them out of their nice clothes and using their normal names, they could have been anyone. Just three guys hanging out in an apartment with no television or video games or a usable smartphone between them.

Butters gave Stan a soft wave. "Are you gonna give us lessons in… in how to get all those baptisms?"

Stan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. "Not really. I mean I could. I was going to when Elder Malkinson… his name's Scott. When Scott was coming with me. But honestly it's kind of a relief to take a break from all that."

"But you're the best!" Butters protested. "Shouldn't you be in top shape all the time? I bet you even do house calls on Mondays anyway!"

"I…. do," Stan said slowly. "But it's usually Scott that pushes it. He's the battery; I'm just transmitter, or whatever."

Kenny threw his hands up in the air. "Does /no one/ want to be a missionary?" he asked the ceiling.

Stand waved his hands. "Oh no, don't get me wrong. I love my work. And I love bringing people to the church. I just need a day off to act like a normal person. Hear my real name."

"Stan Stan Stan Stan Stan," Kenny said.

Stan rolled his eyes. "That's no where near my quota."

Kenny launched himself into a running tirade of Stan's name. Stan laughed at first, but when Kenny took a breath and kept going, Stan took off his red poof ball hat and threw it at Kenny, who broke his chanting because he was laughing instead. Stan was alright by Kenny's book.

"What were you guys planning on doing today before I texted?" Stan asked as he tried to go and retrieve his hat, but Kenny had picked it up and was holding it behind his back.

Butters spoke up. "Just… you know. Hang out. It's kind of too cold to try the zoo today."

Stan tried to reach around Kenny who kept moving ever so slightly out of the way. "We could always hit up a soup kitchen or something."

Kenny snorted, now holding Stan's hat in the air. "That's your idea of a day off? We can soup kitchen it up any day of the week. Tend to the flock and all that jazz."

Stan, with a well-timed muscular leap, snatched the hat back from Kenny and lightly whacked him on the head with it before putting it back on. "Who said we were going to be serving the soup?"

Butters' eyes widened, completely ignoring whatever weird silent feud was happening between Stan and Kenny. "Are you saying we take food from the poor? But you're supposed to be the best missionary in the stake!"

Kenny, now hatless, nudged Butters with his elbow. "He's gone rogue."

Stan shook his head. "I'm saying we scope out the competition. Talk to some of the homeless incognito. Invite them to church. It works better when you're not in uniform."

"Have you done this before?" Kenny asked.

"Not this, no. But I've talked to people out of uniform before and they're much more receptive if they don't think you have some kind of hidden agenda. If you're going to boost your numbers, this is the way to do it."

Something inside Kenny clicked and his brows furrowed. "Is that a common strategy? Go after the poor?" Is this what happened to his family? Entice poor people with a promise of something better and they'll come pouring in from all sides? He knew his family had been duped because his parents never followed the Words of Wisdom and his mother openly admitted to using the church for the benefits but he hadn't stopped to think that the deceit could have gone both ways.

When Stan looked at Kenny, his eyes were steadfast and sure. "Everyone needs saving, but these people will benefit more from the church than a soccer mom and her cubicle husband. I go where the need is greatest. Invite them to the Bishop's storehouse. Give them something good to look forward to. Opportunity. Networking. A rich person might bring a bigger tithe, but a poor person will bring a better spirit."

Butters sniffed, clearly taken over by Stan's words. "I want to go to the soup kitchen!" he cried, rubbing his eyes.

Kenny wasn't so sure about whether Stan was pulling his leg or not. He had all the makings of a great missionary, which meant that somewhere there was a large stick up his ass. It might take some digging, but Kenny would find it. Sure, the guy came off as friendly and approachable, but was there anyone worth hanging out with that thought going to a soup kitchen on their day off was a good idea?

But really, what else were they going to do?

Stan got out his phone and opened the browser to look up some nearby soup kitchens they could scope out. "Hmmm…" he hummed, his brow furrowing. "There's not much around here, but there's a Jewish Family and Children Services that we can get to by bus. They have a food pantry, among other things."

Kenny scrunched up his nose. "A Jewish center? Isn't that like…. A conflict of interest? Stealing from another religion and all that?"

"Most of these programs aren't secular," Stan explained. "So no matter where we go, we'll be talking to people from another religion. But as you know, because of the Great Apostacy, even those from other religions need to know the truth. They think they know but it's our job to guide them in the right direction."

"Oh yeah!" Butters chimed in. "We need to baptize them the right way! Full immersion!"

He and Stan gave each other a high five. Kenny was busy looking over Stan's shoulder at the food pantry information. They wouldn't be able to go inside the pantry without first conducting an interview, but they could at least tour the premises and check it out. It looked like the center focused a lot on counseling services and getting people back on their feet after a crisis. Still, it was worth a shot.

Stan shoved his phone in his pocket and stretched. "Okay guys. Get your bus passes and lets do this."

The Jewish Family and Children Services Center was in a nicer part of the county they weren't used to. Here the sidewalks weren't cracked and the lines in the roads were clearly visible. Kenny thought they would arrive at a run-down place with a line of homeless coming from every direction, but he couldn't have been more misinformed. The towering multi-story building felt more like a library than anything else. It was in the middle of a school zone and a neighborhood, making it seem even more like a part of the neighborhood. As they made their way inside, the building felt more like an office than a help center.

A lady at the front desk smiled gracefully at them, beckoning for them to come over and check in with her first. Stan placed a hand out to keep Kenny and Butters from saying anything.

"Good morning, ma'am," he began. "My name is Stan Marsh and I'm doing some research on what kind of help is available to the homeless and destitute of the city. Can we look around and talk to a few of your volunteers or staff?"

"Oh, well certainly! Just sign in here and leave your contact information!" She looked genuinely excited. "It's so nice to see young people getting into the spirit of philanthropy. You're more than welcome to volunteer here as well. We could always use the help."

As the three of them signed in, the lady at the front desk told them to take a set of double doors to the right that would lead down a hall and into the food pantry where they could start their questions, and someone would be there to lead them around.

Stan thanked her and led the three of them to the doors. When they were out of earshot of the front desk, Kenny nudged Stan and hissed. "Why didn't you just say we were from the LDS church?" Honestly, it didn't matter to him either way, but even he thought it was a little underhanded to outright lie like that.

"Trust me," Stan said. "We're okay."

"This place is really nice for… for a shelter," Butters said nervously. He hung near Kenny, walking so close that they bumped shoulders more often than was necessary. He was so fidgety that Kenny wanted to reach down and take his hand just to keep him still.

"It's not a shelter," Stan explained. "The website said it was a help center and they offered counseling and other services. They just happen to have a food pantry too. Here." He opened the door for them just as someone else opened the door from the other end. "Oh!"

Oh, indeed.

Stan kept walking through the doorway until he crashed into the person going the other way. A bright mop of red curly hair appeared in front of them as Stan stumbled and fell to the side.

"Woah!" the redhead cried out, trying to steady Stan at the last second, but the bigger boy must have been heavier than he anticipated, and he almost went down with him.

The world stood still for a second as Stan and the redheaded boy got their bearings. When Kenny stepped forward, offering to help either of them up, he stopped because Stan had stopped.

Stan was absolutely still, staring at the redheaded boy, no, young man, with wide eyes. He looked like he was about their age clad in a t-shirt with the center's logo on it and a pair of jeans.

"Are you okay?" the redhead asked. His voice was breathy and light.

"Uh-huh," Stan answered, swallowing so thickly his Adam's apple bobbed. Kenny looked back and forth between the two of them. Something weird was happening.

Finally, it was the redhead who stood up first and offered a hand to Stan. Stan took it but his hand lingered a moment too long after he stood. He let go suddenly, when he seemed to remember what he was doing and hastily shoved his hands into his pockets. "You okay?" the stranger asked.

"I'm good. Yes. I'm fine. Thank you. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the stranger said with a smile. "I'm Kyle. Who are you guys? New volunteers?"

"Uh…." Stan said intelligently. Really. It was like watching a train wreck. It was absolutely awful and yet Kenny couldn't look away. If he didn't think Stan was the absolute epitome of the Mormon missionary poster boy, he could have sworn Stan and Kyle were having a Moment ™.

"We're doing a research project on pantries in the county. Can we get a tour?" Kenny said in Stan's stead, since he seemed too star struck to do much of anything. "I'm Kenny, this is Butters and that's Stan."

Kyle held his hand back out for Stan to shake but Stan did a strange thing where he kind of smiled and waved instead and took a step back, as if touching Kyle now was a toxic thing to do. And so, because Kenny and Butters didn't have their heads up their asses, they shook Kyle's hand in turn.

Kyle led them through to the pantry. Kenny had been in his fair share of food pantries before, but this place looked like a veritable grocery store. He let out a long, low whistle as they walked around.

"This place sure is huge!" Butters said, admiring the cereal selection. "Where do you get it all?"

"Donations, mostly. But we have a few deals with some grocery stores around here. Expiration dates are a myth most of the time. And we get produce rejects. Look." He led them to a crate of apples and picked one up. It was lopsided and discolored. "It's still a good apple. It just doesn't look pretty. Most grocery stores will only take picture perfect produce and discard the rest. That's where we come in."

"Oh cool…." Butters said in awe. He found a double-apple and held it up with a giggle. "Look. This one looks like a butt."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "We get that a lot. Trust me. Butt apples taste just as good as regular apples."

It took everything in Kenny's soul not to tell a joke about Kyle eating ass in that moment. He figured he could go to heaven alone just for holding himself back.

"What about the meat?" Stan asked. Kyle turned his attention to the other missionary and soon they were lost in a conversation that didn't stay on meat for very long. Kenny found himself wandering off to go look at the rows of canned goods and wondered if he could find anything years passed its expiration date.

He was turning over a can of garbanzo beans when Butters appeared next to him, taking a similar can and turning it over in his hands. "This is bigger than the Bishop's storehouse," he said.

"Mm," Kenny agreed, setting down the can. It wasn't expired.

"I don't think anyone here will want to go to our church if this place serves them better," Butters continued. "We should have gone somewhere else."

"Well, now we know," Kenny said. He looked up to try and locate where Stan and Kyle were. They were still deep in conversation, with Stan laughing at something Kyle said and Kyle grinning fiercely. "Those two seem to be getting along… a little too well."

"Hee, yeah," Butters giggled. He inched closer to Stan. "He knocked Stan speechless. Did you see that?"

Kenny brightened. "I did! He was starstruck, dude."

Butters' face softened as he watched the two interact. "If Stan weren't a missionary, I would think they got hit by Cupid's arrow, you know?"

"Who's to say they didn't?"

Butters turned a little pink as he turned his eyes down at the can of beans he was holding. "Well… well, missionaries can't be gay. They just can't."

"The church doesn't want them to be gay. It doesn't want anyone to be gay. But it can still happen," Kenny said.

"I know," Butters said quietly. "You have to ignore feelings like that. It's just Satan trying to get in and warp your mind. Stan just needs to listen to that still small voice and he'll be back on the right path." There was something to Butters' tone that sounded sad.

Kenny glanced at Butters. He was staring so intently at the nutrition facts on the back of the can of beans but he knew he wasn't reading a word of it. "Do you speak from experience?"

"Wh-what?!" Butters stammered, nearly dropping the can. He placed it back on the stack and put his hands to his cheeks, probably trying to gauge how hot they were. "N… no! I just… I only meant that…"

Kenny chuckled. "It's okay, Leo." He reached up to take a hold of Butters' wrists to pull his hands from his face. "I've had to battle with that still small voice a couple of times."

Butters chanced a glance up at Kenny. "You have?"

"Yeah," Kenny smiled. "I think that voice is mad at me. I don't listen very well."

"Well… well what does it say?"

"It tells me to keep my hands and eyes to myself but mostly it tells me to shut up. Kind of like right now actually." He was still holding onto Butters' wrists, but the other boy didn't even seem to notice. His gaze was so intent on Kenny's that it made Kenny feel vulnerable, like Butters were trying to dig something out of him. For all Kenny knew, he could. The part of Kenny that loved freely wasn't supposed to be a deep, dark secret. He wanted very much to wear it on his sleeve and the stifling rules of LDS life made it difficult. He needed an outlet, at least some of the time. Even "relaxing" at the apartment wasn't enough. And now he was spending his free day at a food pantry from another religion. If Kenny didn't get a taste of the secular life and soon, he was going to crack. "What does yours tell you to do?"

"Um…." Butters turned an even darker shade of pink. "The same thing, really." He turned his wrists in Kenny's hands and slide his hands free just enough to hold onto Kenny's hands. Their palms touched. Butters' hands were so gentle and soft, and his grip was sure enough that Kenny knew there had to be something more involved. Something hidden but trying to fight its way to be seen. He squeezed back. Butters laughed suddenly, just a puff of air, as he pulled his hands free and began to wring them in front of him. "See? I don't listen very well, either."

Something in Kenny's chest twisted and his heartbeat quickened. What Butters said could mean a lot of things and Kenny wanted all of them to be true. Up until that point, his little crush was just that. A crush. Unrequited and yet familiar. He'd lived with crushes like that his whole life, never allowed to act on them and only allowed to ogle from a distance. He wouldn't have been content to stay like that forever, but he knew he would have been able to tolerate it… at least until his mission was over and he set up shop in a strip club and never left until his brain was a pile of mush and slid out his ear.

"What if that still small voice is wrong?" Kenny said suddenly.

Butters gasped. "That's the Holy Spirit, Kenny. It can't be wrong."

"Is it, though?"

Butters took a step back. "Heavenly Father intended for man and woman to be together. That's the truth. Families will be together forever. Husbands and Wives get sealed together in the Temple. You can't be sealed to another man. That's not how it works."

Kenny gestured to Stan and Kyle a few aisles away. They somehow migrated back to the produce. "Look at those two and tell me something that wholesome is Satan's doing. I bet if they pooled their resources, they could feed like a bazillion poor people."

"As friends," Butters corrected. "Best friends."

Kyle was now putting his number into Stan's missionary phone.

"Yeah," Kenny mused. "Super best friends." He should have known that Butters would stay on the safe side. It was better that way, anyway even though it absolutely sucked. "Is that what we are, then? Best friends?"

"Well… well yeah," Butters said. "I thought that was obvious. I really like you, Kenny. And… and I want us to be friends even after our mission."

Kenny exhaled loudly and nodded. It wasn't right to ask Butters to break years and years of social upbringing in one day. If there was any indication that Butters would ever be interested in Kenny outside of friendship, it was likely all in Kenny's mind. And wasn't that typical of him? He thought everyone was cute. Hell, Kyle was cute. Kenny wanted to reach out and see if his curls bounced. It wouldn't be fair to the world if only one person had Kenny McCormick. He was there to be shared.

And yet.

There was something about Butters that brought out Kenny's protective instincts. The other missionary was sheltered, and Kenny wanted to keep him that way. His innocence and naivete were what made him so likable and Kenny was selfish and wanted to keep those smiles for himself.

It wasn't fair. If he met Butters under any other circumstance, he'd flirt his way right into Butters pants, set up camp, and stay there. But there were all these rules in place. Cockblocking rules. Kenny would have to accept that he'd never get what he wanted, that he'd have to give up the ghost and accept defeat in this case. There would be other fish in the sea. Someone else would come along and nibble and Kenny would simply look back on this and say, "Hey, remember when I wanted to bone my mission partner? Those were the days…"

So instead of lightening the mood with a joke about wanting to be more than friends, Kenny listened to that annoying still, small voice and said. "Yeah. I would like that. Best friends."

A moment later Kyle and Stan joined them. Stan went on and on about the center, but Kenny's heart wasn't hearing any of it. He was tired and all he wanted to do was to go home and nap. Stan could do his weird religion stealing tactic without him.

In the end, they managed to talk to a few people who came into the food pantry for supplies. Butters handed over a pamphlet to all of them.

It didn't matter, Kenny thought. None of it mattered. All of these people were going to die sinners—just like him.