Kyle made sure that the door to the hotel room was locked, without really knowing why.
"Stan?" He called, shuffling into the room, where he found Stan sitting up on the bed near the window, eyes closed, headphones on full blast, his head bobbing along to the music.
Kyle couldn't hide the smile playing at his features as he set the bag containing his purchase from the bookstore on the other bed, and then went to join his…super best friend, and listen in.
He put his right ear to Stan's left, and the dark haired boy opened an eye to glance at Kyle. He noticed the smile, and adopted one of his own. They were partners in crime, joined not by music, but that elusive "this" that neither could fully explain. They let themselves, and everything in the "this" that they were frightened of, just get lost for the time being. Lost, pretending it was the music, but really it was each other. They both shut their eyes and leaned back. Kyle felt one of Stan's arms wrap around his shoulders, and his own arm around Stan's waist.
Happy song.
… meant to be, immutable, impossible, it's destiny, pure lunacy, incalculable, inseparable…Who wouldn't be the one you love…
They opened their eyes again, and looked at each other.
A pause.
And then…
Kyle tackled Stan, intending to knock him onto the bed. Unfortunately, because of his previous position, Stan fell backwards onto the floor, dragging Kyle with him. The result was that they found themselves changed from human beings into a mass of awkward limbs, but neither really cared, and they went for it anyway.
Neither was sure who was kissing who anymore, or whose hands belonged to whom, and somehow it didn't matter. The headphones had been knocked aside but the music still played on.
Explosions!
And then, because things couldn't get any more romantic comedy, someone just had to go and knock on the door.
"GO AWAY!" They bellowed.
"Dudes, if you're making out or sexing, that's totally hot and I'm cool with it. Can I come in and watch, or if you want, just tighten my hood? Because I don't really have a choice, seeing as Cartman's already asleep and apparently talking in his sleep. I'm not going away!" Kenny whined on the other side of the door.
They both sighed, and rolled their eyes. Next order of business? Deciding who should answer the door.
"You get it. I'm shirtless." Stan whispered.
"Dude! I'm pantless. I think you're owned." Kyle hissed back.
And so it was that Stan went to answer the door as Kyle searched for his pants.
Kenny thanked Stan enthusiastically, and made some other comments, that were once again conveniently muffled as he walked in the room just as a blushing Kyle was fastening his belt buckle.
"What's this?" Kenny asked.
"What?" Stan cried nervously at the same time that Kyle exclaimed in impeccable Hebrew that the whole thing could be a lot less messier if that could be clarified and they could all go home, and for the sake of Stan's sanity, not make it in time for prom. Needless to say, Kyle drowned Stan out.
Kenny backed away towards the door, fearfully.
"I meant the bag on the bed."
"Oh, right." Kyle said, having completely forgot about the book in the…excitement. From the bag, he produced a copy of, indeed, Small Franchising for Dummies. Angelic music could almost be heard in the background, and the book did that little, 'sheen!sparkle!sparkle!' thing.
"You guys have to be cool that I'm letting you look on, ok? I just want to beat the shit out of the red team." He said.
Kenny glowered.
"I'm more concerned about purple. Those dudes are totally weak, but not only do they have Wendy, but when I offed myself in front of them earlier, I swear I could hear some Hebrew expletives from them. No offense, Kyle. And the ones who didn't exclaimed things like…the FOIL method and other mathematical terms. I mean, shit, man, who does that?" He said.
Kyle frowned. He hadn't taken that into consideration.
"Ok, men. We have our mission. Take down the red and purple teams, and then its every man for themselves." He proposed. Stan voiced his approval. This caused Kenny to glance at Stan again, and from the glazed look in his eyes, he got distracted.
Kyle smacked himself lightly on the forehead.
"Stan, go find your shirt. Before Kenny drowns in his own drool again. Weak."
Butters clung to the railing of the balcony for dear life, humming his little apple song to try and calm his quaking nerves.
"L-loo loo l-l-oo, I got some ap-apples…" It wasn't working very well. It didn't usually. It was more a force of habit.
He was absolutely petrified. First of all, if he got caught by the counselors and Rotary club, seeing as how he'd forgotten to turn in his application, he'd get sent home for sure. Second, if his parents found out that he'd lied about turning in his application and Cartman had actually smuggled him in…well, he'd be in a world of trouble and definitely get a stern talking to. Fourth, he was clinging to the outside of a balcony railing to the second floor of a hotel. Fifth, he could hear music from the Blue Grass Festival, faintly in the distance, and Blue Grass music is really, really creepy in itself.
After what seemed like an eternity, Cartman finally opened the sliding glass door, and stared at Butters incredulously.
"What took you so long?" He barked at him.
"Eric! I-I-I've been waiting out here for, ah, an hour! Let me in, please! Ah…well, m-maybe if you could help me get over the rail…?" Butters tried to keep his voice low, but the fact that he was just about ready to burst out in tears made it difficult.
"Butters, why did I bring you out here?" Cartman asked, leaning against the doorframe casually.
"Ah, I dunno. Ohhh, son of a biscuit, can you please help me?"
Butters watched horrified as Cartman scoffed, turned, and started to close the door.
"No! Eric, you c-can't! I-I don't know what you want me to do, y-y-you just said somethin' about trackin' Stan and Kyle and…"
"Thank you, Butters, you may be more useful after all," Cartman pushed the door back open so quickly it hit the other side of the frame with a large bang, and Butters almost lost his grip on the railing.
"What I want you to do," Cartman continued as he approached the rail, "Is to make sure that Stan and Kyle don't get anymore faggy with each other. I have twenty bucks riding on this, and the future of my Empire at steak, because if Wendy wins this round then it will only enable her to create a whole empire catering to slash fangirls…they'll band together! Over throw me! Just do whatever you can to make sure that they don't make out…at least until prom is over. Then they can do whatever they want."
"B-but Eric, when I was climbing up here, I saw Kyle tackle Stan and it looked like they were…um…getting pretty close. I didn't watch though, so maybe they were just wrestlin', or rough-housin' or…" Butters said. He hadn't really thought more of it…
"WHAT! Screw you, Butters! You're useless after all. Just…not a word of this…to anyone, and especially not Wendy, and do everything you can to keep them from fagging out. I have to worry about winning the Business Simulation, and obliterate the other teams, so if you excuse me, I have a copy of Small Franchising for Dummies and a bag of Cheesey Poofs to get back to." Cartman said, and turned and shut the sliding glass door.
"Ah, but…but Eric! Aren't ya gonna let me in?"
Butters managed to find his way into the room where the breakfast buffet was being held the next morning. Also, almost too conveniently, he was able to spot Kyle and Stan, thanks to Kyle's distinctive green ushanka. They were sitting together, talking animatedly, Kyle's arm draped casually around Stan's shoulders. It didn't look…really funny, or queer to Butters, just comfortable, almost natural. The puzzled him-just what was it that Cartman considered "fagging out". Butters had always seen Kyle and Stan as pictures of masculinity. They played sports, beat up and ripped on other people and each other, and had all kinds of strange and wacky-hijink-misadventures. How was that, in any way, "faggy"? And even if they were…was it really that bad?
Kenny didn't seem to care, in fact, he seemed kind of happy about it.
But, Butters didn't want Cartman to blow the whistle on him, so off he went.
"Ahh, heya fella's." He approached Stan, Kyle, and Kenny from behind. They jumped up, and glanced at him in surprise. Kyle kept his arm around Stan's shoulders.
"Butters? What are you doing here?" Stan asked him
Butters wrung his hands, his other habit. Now what?
"I-I-I dunno." He replied sheepishly. He hadn't thought of a viable story to account for his appearance yet. Maybe that was detrimental? Really, would just want to go home, if it didn't mean he'd be in so much trouble.
They stared at him incredulously for a very long time.
Kyle tried a different approach.
"How did you get here, Butters?" He asked.
"Ah, I dunno that, either." Butters said with a shrug. It was pretty close to the truth. He remembered Cartman breaking into his room, smacking him upside the head with something heavy and blunt, and then darkness for a while…until Cartman unzipped the duffle bag he'd been stuffed in, and instructed him to meet him at his room at five pm…best to come in by the balcony.
"Dude! Butters is the Messiah!" Kenny said excitedly.
Stan, Kyle, and Butters stared at him.
"I mean, think about it. Stan, didn't that one guy not show? So, the blue team is short. What if we put Butters in his place? Then he can be utilized to topple the red and purple teams for sure!" Kenny said.
"Yeah, the problem with that is that Butters wasn't here to learn the rules or anything. And he's kind of a wuss. The blue team needs more assertive, cut-throat leaders." Kyle argued. They seemed to have adopted the ability to talk about someone as if he weren't in the room.
"It's better than nothing. I spent the last Biz Sim meeting not getting it at all, jiggling my foot, chewing my pencil, and throwing out my ideas only to forget what I was talking about in mid-sentence. The others weren't much better off, so we just wound up choosing nice, even, average numbers. To be safe." Stan voiced, with a shrug.
"Well, I'd be, uh, more than willin' to do, uh, whatever it is if ya want me to, fellas." Butters spoke up again, hoping that maybe he'd be able to mingle with them and do…whatever it was that Cartman wanted him to.
And then they were called off to a glorious lecture, and Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were moaning, and picking up their breakfast trays to put off to the side for the maintenance team to take care of. Just before they entered the empty room used for the lecture hall, Kyle cornered Butters, and slipped the copy of Small Franchising for Dummies into Butters' hands.
"Peruse this during the lecture. It's much more useful than what their saying, trust me." He whispered.
Although, when the lecture started, Butters found he couldn't disagree more. The lecture was so, so inspiring! It moved him! He had to be proactive in life! He needed to achieve self-actualization! He could climb the corporate ladder, no, transcend it. When the lecture ended, he was on his feet, clapping and cheering for the speaker with unabashed enthusiasm. He left the lecture room for the hallway where the blue team met for Biz Sim feeling so very motivated.
Until someone else cornered him.
"Butters! I'm so glad to see you!" Wendy sang.
"R-really? Gee, that's real nice…" Butters began, but Wendy cut him off with her ulterior motive.
"I need you to do something for me." She said.
Butters, who had only been "needed" a few times in his life, never which had been by a girl, was ecstatic. The lecture-guy was right! He just needed to assert himself.
"Ah, sure. W-what for?" He asked, trying to sound casual, even with his wavering voice.
"I need you to monitor Kyle and Stan. Any little behavior that exudes sexual tension? Every time they so much as gaze towards each other longingly? Find some way to promote it. And then come tell me about it." She said.
All of Butters' newfound assertion completely left him in that moment, manifested as he dissolved into tears.
"B-but Wendy! I'm already helping Eric do the opposite! I mean, he nearly killed me when I told him how I saw 'em wrestlin' and kissin' and stuff and…oh, hamburgers." He said.
Wendy stared at him, jaw agape, pretending to be shocked, although the last tidbit of information had been a shock, indeed. Wendy already knew that Cartman had gotten to Butters first when she saw him sneaking around the back of the hotel the night before. Wendy felt bad, manipulating Butters, but that's why both she and Cartman had needed him for this. His innocence was both his greatest asset, and his downfall. He was simply incorruptible, and that's what made him an excellent, unwitting minion. Really, though, Wendy never saw Butters as pathetic, because every time someone called for his assistance, however bumbling he was, he always did the task that was asked of him, always pulled it off, although the results were never in his favor.
"Butters, I can't believe you! I can't believe you would both stoop so low-! I'm gonna kill him. No, better yet, we'll show him, you and me, we're gonna build this empire, and Stan and Kyle in PDA will be the first brick to be laid." She said, trying her best to sound angry, and decisive.
Butters was still whimpering when she let him go to join the blue team for Biz Sim.
Authors Note:
As mentioned in the first chapter, I quoted the song "Stand Inside Your Love" by The Smashing Pumpkins, which I do not own. I wanted to use "Daphne Descends" so bad... I do have a soundtrack for the story, 'cause I suck like that. If you want the track listings, just ask. I have a weird taste, thought
I'm only putting this just in case, although I'm sure it isn't necessary. An Ushanka is pretty much a Russian hat with ear flaps, so, basically what Kyle is. I'm sure there are a lot of green ones, but because Kyle and his trademark hat are totally magic!awesome!spiffy, I consider his hat distinctive. I did it all for the lolz, yeah.
