Chapter 7: The Skeletons are Hidden in the Closet
It's a McCormick tradition to take a big hulking shit on the holiday season. It went from a semi-nice time of year when they were kids, when they'd all stop fighting for six or seven seconds and just focus on being a family and having each other. Then, of course, his parents both started drinking more, started fighting more, and suddenly holidays became Kevin, Kenny, and Karen eating canned soup and green beans up in Karen's room, or opening gifts and falling into arguments themselves.
Now that they're all older, they're obviously entirely disillusioned. Kenny's come to terms with the fact that he'll never have a perfect Norman Rockwell family or holiday season, but there's something about this year that makes him want to celebrate… though it could just be that he's in a ridiculously good mood the more that he fucks around with Butters.
It's starting to be a little fun, actually—sneaking around, trying not to get caught, getting Butters panting and breathless against him (because he's getting more and more stressed out with applying to college and stuff that it's kind of nice to be able to touch him or suck him down and get him to forget for a bit).
The holidays are getting them both kind of down, though, so they haven't found it in themselves to fool around. Probably just as well, considering there was an awkward interception at home the other day that almost ended in Kenny handing Kevin one of Butters' magazines instead of the copy of Sports Illustrated he'd lifted from the gas station.
That had been an awkward moment to sidestep, but Kenny thought he'd handled it well until last night when Kevin caught him staring a little too long at Christian Bale while they'd been watching the Dark Knight and very frankly said, "Maybe you really are a faggot after all."
"What'd you say?" Butters asks. He's perched upon a giant ladder, hanging Christmas lights from the tip top of his roof, because he absolutely refused to let Kenny go up there and do it himself. It's the Saturday after Thanksgiving and in typical Stotch fashion, they have to be the first people in town to put up their Christmas lights.
"What the hell do you say to something like that?" Kenny returns, holding the ladder fast. "I socked him on the shoulder, he punched me in the nads, we finished the movie and went to bed."
"Yikes," Butters hisses through his teeth. "How're your boys doin'?"
"Pretty fucking shitty, Butters!" Kenny calls up to him. He gets a little sick just thinking about it. He'd spent a good fifteen minutes on the floor, incapacitated and hoping he'd at least still be able to blow a load when he recovered.
Butters just sighs and climbs down, gracefully and not at all in trouble of falling like Kenny is every time he gets on something higher than two feet off the ground. He plants his feet on the ground and takes a few steps back, admiring his handiwork. They're not an impressively crafted display, but they're neat and simple and just about what you'd expect from the Stotches.
"Y'know," Butters says, hands on his hips as he squints at the lights. "Sometimes when people say awful things, they're really just tryin' to reach out to you, an' they just don't know how to do it properly."
Kenny scoffs, "Yeah, Butters, that's what Kevin's doing." Butters doesn't seem to be in the mood for his sarcasm, though, just looks over at him and raises his eyebrows.
"I got a laundry list of awful things you said to me over the years, buster," he says frankly. "Now look at yourself."
Kenny scowls a little at this, but okay, Butters has a point.
"Are you telling me that my brother actually wants to suck my dick?" he poses, though, just to see the look on Butters' face.
Butters smirks and gives a half-hearted little shrug, "Can't say I'd blame him." He laughs even harder when Kenny gives him a shove and loudly proclaims his perversions to whomever on the street might be listening in.
"Jerk," Butters mutters through a little pout that makes Kenny grin and elbow him lightly in the side. "Heck, I reckon more than half the people I've messed around with have been right awful to me at some point or another. People bein' awful usually just means they're scared."
"Everyone's awful to you, though," Kenny points out very frankly.
Butters just shrugs, "Eh, maybe everyone's a little scared."
This gives Kenny a little pause as he watches Butters heave a little sigh and start whistling as he folds up the ladder. It's starting to occur to Kenny more and more that most people are just as awful to Butters as they always were—maybe not outright, but even Wendy's called him an idiot on more than one occasion.
"Dude," Kenny shakes his head as he lights a cigarette. "How have you not just gotten a gun and shot everyone?"
Butters laughs a little, like Kenny couldn't have suggested anything more ridiculous.
"Why would I do that?" he cocks his head, and Kenny just shrugs.
"Everyone treats you like shit," he says and puts his free hand through his hair. "I mean, how do you get through that without wanting to destroy everyone?" Kenny's had his own wild fantasies of how his own fight scene might play out—had his own fight songs picked out for several of the scenarios he's cooked up.
Butters' shoulders drop, right along with his smile. He looks spooked, white as a sheet as his mouth starts trying to stammer out words. Nothing wants to come out, as it seems. Kenny watches this for a moment with his eyebrows raised, before he asks, "Jesus, you have thought about it, haven't you?"
"Wh—no!" Butters exclaims.
"Dude, I'm not saying you have a plan laid out or any—"
"Kenny, why would I think about killin' people who are mean to me?" Butters practically shouts. "That's sociopath stuff."
"Dude, it's natural to be angry at people who treat you like shit," Kenny shrugs. "You think I haven't thought about putting a bullet through my dick brother's skull at least once?"
"Well, Kevin's just a right asshole," Butters concedes. "E-everyone's always made fun of me, though. Reckon I'm just used to it… i-it's kinda funny, though, huh?"
"What?" Kenny asks and takes a long drag of his cigarette.
"That the worst thing a kid could do is just want a friend," he says and goes to carry the ladder back into the garage. Kenny follows him, frowning as he takes another drag, and moves to help Butters hang the ladder back on the far wall. He follows Butters back into the house, stamping his cigarette out on the concrete floor before shutting the door and watching as Butters pours himself a glass of water from the filter in the fridge.
He looks a little shaken, but Kenny can't help but realize just how handsome Butters has become. He's always got this big smile on his face that makes him look kind of dorky, but now, even though he's visibly riled, he's got a really nice face.
"Kids are fucked up," Kenny just says. "You've got friends now, right? Like, what's that Dr. Seuss quote… 'People who mind don't matter and whoever matters won't mind' or something?"
From the way Butters is laughing, Kenny figures he probably just botched the fuck out of whatever he was trying to say. He just shrugs, "You know what I mean."
"Yeah," Butters nods, smiling still as he rubs at his neck. "What're you s'posed to do when everyone minds, though?"
Kenny stops at that, and suddenly a heavy silence falls between them. Butters is smashing his knuckles together and looking down at his feet, shoulders all curled in on themselves and spine all bent out of shape. It makes Kenny's chest hurt, and he's overcome by the resounding feeling that Butters probably isn't as impervious to everyone's shit as either of them would like to think.
"Dude," Kenny rasps out a little and steps forward. "Dude, people are dicks. You're awesome, okay? Like, by far one of the most awesome people I know. People are fucking awful to you and you're somehow just so nice back. I don't know how you do it without, like, exploding or something."
"Ah," Butters shakes his head and fists his hands in the hair growing out right above his ears. "Ca-can we maybe not talk about this anymore?" He shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, somehow making himself impossibly smaller. Without even thinking, Kenny reaches out and brings him into a hug.
Except, Butters doesn't hug back, just tucks his arms up between their chests and buries his face in Kenny's neck, and just like that Kenny realizes that—fuck—he's holding him now.
Because he wants Butters to feel okay, to know that Kenny knows how hard this must suck, to know how much he wants Butters to feel okay again, and sucking his dick seems wildly inappropriate at the moment.
They stay there like that for a few moments before Butters pulls away, wiping at his eyes, though there's no evidence that he's been crying, and giving Kenny a resigned smile.
"I'm kinda sleepy," he says. "Wanna go upstairs and take a nap?"
Kenny's taken aback by that. He doesn't nap, usually, unless he's so high or drunk that he can't keep his eyelids up. And napping with someone sounds very strangely intimate for Kenny's tastes, but he doesn't think he could justifiably say 'no' to Butters right now. He just nods and lets Butters pull him up to his room. They kick off their shoes and shift onto the bed, Butters actually curling up for a nap while Kenny sort of just stretches out and tries to relax on a nice, comfy bed that smells like Butters.
When he wakes up, it's visibly later in the afternoon.
"What the fuck?" he mutters and shifts. He's not at all where he (thinks he) fell asleep—instead of flat on his back, he's curled up against Butters, tucked neatly against his chest which, like the rest of him, is hideously warm. Butters' arms are wrapped around him too, firm and strong and making Kenny feel way nicer than they should.
"You awake?" Butters asks softly.
"Yeah," Kenny yawns and gives an involuntary whine. "Fuck, how long were we out?"
"Eh, two hours, probably," Butters yawns back. "Never woulda pegged you as a cuddler."
"I'm not," Kenny mumbles into Butters' chest. "I don't cuddle, that's lame. You're just really warm and the window is open."
It's a feeble excuse, but Kenny sticks to it, in spite of the fact that he knows Butters doesn't buy it. Butters' laugh is all lazy and thick with sleep, and when he tightens his grip around Kenny's shoulders and ducks to kiss him on the cheek, Kenny feels his toes curl. He shifts so that he's laying on top of Butters, and cupping his face in his hands, brings him into a slow, intensely satisfying kiss—one that gets Butters to let out a little whimper and unzip Kenny's sweater.
And Kenny lets him. He lets Butters rid him of his layers, first the sweater, then his shirt, and is hit by a cold gust of wind passing by the window that makes him break out in goose bumps. Butters sits up and moves so he can shut the window, before he turns his attention to Kenny.
"Oh wow," Butters says softly and reaches out to touch just below Kenny's ribs. He's got little bruises all over (because on top of the whole immortality thing, he also happens to bruise like a peach), but the biggest one is right under Butters' fingers. "What happened?" Butters asks, but then amends, "Aw jeez, look at me bein' all nosy. You don't have to tell me if you don't want."
"Dude," Kenny laughs a little, shifting so he's sitting on Butters' lap a little more comfortably. "It's okay. Most of these are me being a spaz and running into shit. I bruise really easily. Apparently I am a delicate flower."
This makes Butters laugh, which is good because Kenny doesn't feel like going into how most of these are from him and Kevin scrapping, or how the one Butters is still brushing with his fingers is from the other day, when Kenny got in the middle of the annual Thanksgiving drunken shouting match and his dad threw him into the coffee table.
Granted, he should have known better than to come downstairs for some jell-o before his parents had passed out, so the bruise is really just a mark of his own stupidity on that front.
"You're real skinny," Butters says then, dragging his fingers over Kenny's ribs now. It feels nice, having Butters touch him like this, mapping him out and memorizing him. It sends heat all over Kenny's skin and makes his cock stir with anticipation.
"You should've seen before—" his breath hitches when Butters's fingers skate lightly over his nipples. "Dude, I shovel pizza into my face just so I'll stop looking like the walking dead."
Butters smiles and kisses Kenny lightly on his neck.
"I got enough pumpkin pie to last me a lifetime downstairs," he murmurs against Kenny's skin. "Want some?"
"Seriously?" Kenny asks, pulling back just a bit to look at Butters. "I got boned out of getting pie this year. I mean, not like we have it every year or anything like that… I usually steal Stan's or Kyle's, but they didn't have any when I asked yesterday."
"Kenny, I have a whole pie in my freezer that is yours," Butters looks at him very seriously. "My parents'll make me eat it all by myself if I don't find someone who wants it."
"What?" Kenny asks.
"O-oh, I accidentally made an extra," Butters says. "A-an' I wouldn't throw it away, so they told me I had to eat it, a-an' that no one gets to help me."
Kenny blinks a few times before he just laughs and covers his face with his hand, "Your parents are so fucking weird."
"Tell me about it," Butters laughs a little. Then they're kissing again, and somehow amidst the increasingly frantic kisses and the little noises of appreciation, Butters loses his shirt too. Kenny pulls away at this, needing to admire for a moment. Butters' arms are nice and toned, and his chest is too. He's still got some baby fat in certain places, especially in his face, but Kenny still finds his mouth all dry and heart all slamming against his chest.
"You're hot," Kenny whispers in Butters' ear, like he's telling a secret. Hell, he kind of feels like it is… at least, the fact that he thinks Butters is hot is.
"Oh, jeez," Butters pulls away and laughs a little. "Kenny, you're makin' me blush."
"Why?" Kenny asks, brushing at Butters' hair with his fingertips. "You are, dude."
"Kenny, I'm already foolin' around with you," Butters shakes his head, nosing at Kenny's neck. "You don't need to charm your way into my pants, y'know."
Kenny frowns and pulls back to look at Butters. How—does he not think he's good-looking? Kenny's not exactly sure of how that's possible, all things considered, and he's about to say something about it too, but there's a sudden commotion downstairs and Butters' eyes go big.
"Shit," he mutters and looks over at the clock. He all but throws Kenny off of him as he scrambles to get back into his shirt. "My parents are home. Shit-shit-shit…" Kenny mobilizes quickly and pulls on his clothes and boots. Butters is looking at him with some sort of foreign look in his eyes that makes Kenny shrug.
"What?" he asks as he goes to pull the window open again. Butters comes forward and kisses him, firm and deliberate.
"I'll see you later," he says softly. Kenny nods, and like that he's scaling down the side of Butters' house. He's not sure where he's going to go or what he's going to do, since he's all full of semi-good feelings still from being kissed and held and there's no way in hell he's ruining that by going home… He pulls out his phone and texts Stan, 'coming over be there in 5'.
He makes the quick walk over to Stan's and opens up the front door without even knocking. He still knocks at Kyle's usually, but only because he feels like Sheila will give him a lecture about being rude, even if she's told him a thousand times that he doesn't need to knock. Sharon's always had a soft spot for Kenny, always invited him over to dinner more than she did any of the other boys, always makes sure he's all bundled up properly when he spends the night or leaves the house when it's particularly cold outside.
Even now she's working on a crossword puzzle while she watches the news when Kenny walks in. She looks up at him over the tops of her glasses and smiles.
"Hi there, sweetheart," she says. "The rest of your motley crew is in the basement. Would you like something to eat before you go down there? I made them some sandwiches, and I think I had one leftover."
"You just happened to have one leftover?" he asks through a smile, and Sharon gives him a little smile back as she stands and walks into the kitchen.
"Such a habit I have," she says, shaking her head at herself as she hands Kenny a teetering sandwich on a plate. "Making four sandwiches instead of three. What's wrong with me?"
Kenny beams and gives her a hug before taking the plate down to the basement. Kyle and Cartman are playing Call of Duty while Stan sits on the couch, laptop perched on his knees as he types and smiles. Kenny comes to sit beside him and takes a big bite out of his sandwich.
"I thought facebook was lame," Kenny says as he looks over Stan's shoulder. He's chatting with Gary, and after catching a glimpse of the word 'cock', Kenny gathers it's not something meant for his eyes.
"Stanley, you devil," he puts a scandalized hand over his heart. "Who would've thought such dirty thoughts ran through that head of yours."
Stan just shakes his head, typing still. "Man, those AP classes are really improving your rhetoric, aren't they," Stan deadpans.
"Eh, you fuckers are the only people who appreciate my wit," Kenny shrugs and keeps eating. He doesn't bother Cartman and Kyle—they're too caught up in their game to talk to him anyway. After a few minutes, Stan sets his laptop aside and runs his fingers through his hair.
"So, what did you get up to today on this lovely Saturday?" Stan asks. "Little bit of yardwork, maybe?"
Kenny flips him off and keeps chewing at his sandwich, letting silence fall between them. He's still got a few good feelings in his chest, and this sandwich is quickly inspiring more of them. He watches as Cartman and Kyle launch into a full scale verbal attack on each other as they keep playing, happy that out of everything in his life, this is at least the same.
"Stanley," Sharon's voice comes from the top of the stairs.
"Yeah?" Stan calls back.
"Your Aunt Charlotte is on the phone, she wants to talk to you," Sharon says.
"What the hell? About what?"
"Oh, I don't know, Stanley," comes Sharon's sarcastic reply. "Maybe it's because she lives five minutes away from your first choice college. Get up here, now please."
Stan lets out a loud groan before he melts off the couch and slinks up the stairs. When they hear the door shut, Kenny almost jumps at how fast Kyle pauses the game ("Hey, what the fuck, you butt reaming asshole?") and flies over to Stan's computer.
"Whoa there, sparky," Kenny curls into himself, trying to use his body to cover what's left of his sandwich. Kyle just wordlessly brings up Stan's facebook again while Cartman and Kenny stare at him. He scans over a few things before pulling a face and shoving the computer back off to the side.
"Dear fucking god," Kyle retches. Cartman grabs the computer before Kenny can put it together, and he starts belly laughing. When Kyle immediately rolls his eyes and starts rummaging around under the couch for Stan's hidden stash of booze, Kenny suddenly gets the feeling that he's missing something."
"Uh," Kenny begins as Kyle opens a bottle of whiskey and takes a few large gulps. "Isn't booze bad for diabetic people." It's not a question, but a statement of fact… just in case Kyle forgot. With the way Kyle's face is all screwed up, Kenny thinks he probably remembers.
"Let the poor girl drink her sorrows away," Cartman scoffs and tosses Kyle's controller to Kenny. Kenny lets it hit him in the chest as he looks over at Kyle.
"What's he talking about?" he asks, but Kyle just shakes his head.
"Jesus Christ, Kenny, Kyle's in love with Stan, now nut up and play me."
"I am not!" Kyle shouts back, scowling. Cartman just looks at Kenny and pulls a face.
"Aw, isn't it cute, Kenny?" he asks. "She's shy."
"Shut the fuck up, fatass!" Kyle snaps. Kenny's not sure if it's the alcohol, or if Kyle just really hasn't yet learned that the more you yell at him, the more you fuel Cartman's ineffable desire to piss you off. Kyle turns around completely this time, resting his forearms on the little table in front of the couch, and gives Kyle a pout.
"What's wrong, Kyle?" he asks. "You don't like that Stan's all up on Donny and Marie?"
"Whoa, wait," Kenny sits forward and puts his sandwich on the floor. "You two knew about that? Stan said he hadn't told—"
"Stan told you?" Kyle scowls, looking a little like Kenny just caught him in bed with his wife. Kenny holds his hands up in a pacifying gesture, not really a fan of how his insides are starting to twist up with nerves.
"I walked in on them," he says. "No one told me. They haven't told anyone."
Kyle just shuts his eyes and rubs his hands over his face, shaking his head like he doesn't want to believe this is happening. He's spent the better part of the last seven or eight years trying to convince everyone that he's not gay, especially after the whole Nichole fiasco in the fifth grade. The fact that he hangs out with Cartman so much (an unhappy coincidence, Kyle likes to remind everyone) doesn't really help these matters, but he's pretty sure that the fact that no one believes him is why he can't ever get a girlfriend.
Apparently, him being pretty goofy looking and apparently in love with his very male best friend aren't factors in this at all.
"I swear, there's something in the water in this town," Kenny just shakes his head, which gets Cartman looking at him kind of funny, like he's about to say something, but Kyle gets there first.
"I'm not—" he tries to interject, but he shakes his head and crosses his arms over her chest. "I just don't like Gary, okay? I have an abject distrust of people who are that nice… and who don't swear. It's not natural."
Cartman scoffs, "I think you have an abject distrust of people who are sucking Stan's dick."
Kyle scowls and throws a pillow at Cartman's face. They then hear the door at the top of the stairs open again and scramble to get back into their original positions. By the time Stan comes back down, Cartman and Kyle are back to playing—Kyle a little more clumsily than before—and Kenny's polishing off his food. Stan flops back down next to Kenny, a glass of Coke in his hand, and sees the whiskey and his computer sitting on the table together.
"Hey, who started the party without me?" Stan asks, gulping down a portion of his soda so he can replace it with the liquor. He takes a sip, much too satisfied by it, and Kenny draws his legs to his chest and tries to keep quiet. There's something about him that's bursting at the seams with this new information, though he suspects it's so Cartman won't ask Kenny about what's got him acting so queer… funny. Whatever.
"Hmm," Stan frowns a little when he checks his computer. "Still nothing. Says he saw the message."
"Man, I don't like that feature," Kenny shakes his head. "I feel like the internet is ratting on me for not answering someone's inane bullshit."
Stan gives him a look before laughing a little and offering Kenny his drink. Kenny shakes his head and stares at the TV—no telling what'll come out of his mouth if he puts alcohol in his body right now. Silence passes between them for a short while before Stan shuts his computer and puts his drink on the table, shoving Cartman out of the way so he can play. This of course, gets Cartman to throwing a hissy fit and leaving. This loosens Kenny up considerably, leading him to taking a swig off of Stan's drink.
"Hey, top it off if you're gonna take some," Stan says, mashing his thumb into the controller. Kenny gives him a salute, even though he's not looking, and gradually replaces whatever sips he takes with more whiskey. It's not the greatest thing, but it gets you really fucked up without you even realizing.
Then the door to the basement opens and shuts again, followed soon by heavy footfalls. Stan pauses the game, ready for Cartman to come back in and launch into a full tirade about how they're all assholes and how they never treat him fairly, but it's not Cartman.
It's Gary.
Gary, who looks all red-eyed and frayed at the edges.
"Hey, dude," Stan greets him carefully, frowning just a little bit. "What're you doing here?"
Gary doesn't respond right away, just goes to sit on the couch beside Kenny. He eyes the glass beside Stan's computer and points at it.
"Is there alcohol in that?" he asks.
"Yeah," Kenny nods, eyes going big as Gary reaches for it, "But it's mostly hard alcohol, don—okay."
Gary tips it back and downs most of the glass. Stan, Kenny, and Kyle all watch him intently as he makes a face and puts the glass back on the table.
"That was disgusting," Gary mutters.
"That was also mostly whiskey," Kenny says. "You're probably gonna be a little fucked up here in a minute."
"Dude, what the hell was that?" Stan asks. "Are you okay?"
"No, Stan, I'm—gosh, I'm warm," Gary frowns and touches his face. "I'm warm, is that normal? I don't like this."
Stan gets up and sits down beside Gary. "Dude, what happened?" he asks a little more firmly this time.
"Oh man," Gary whines and leans forward a little. "My mom found out, Stan."
Stan stops at this, completely petrified while Gary curls forward and touches his forehead to his knees. Kyle even stops the game again, gathering that this is more serious than a petty pityfest. He looks behind him, first at Kenny, then at Stan.
"How?" Stan asks softly after a while, bringing his hand up to rub Gary's back.
"I left the computer to help my sister with her homework really quick," Gary mumbles, sounding a little nauseated. "I came back and she was reading my messages. I forgot to get out of my account, and she—" he hiccups. "She just started yelling at me, Stan. And I couldn't say anything. I just let her. I just stood there and let her pack a bag for me. She threw me out, Stan."
"Jesus Christ!" Stan yelps, and Gary grabs his ears.
"Oh man, I think I'm gonna be sick," he mutters, and like that takes off in a mad dash for the bathroom. Stan gets to his feet quickly and looks back at Kyle and Kenny. He runs a shaky hand through his hair.
"Hey, I'm really sorry, guys, but," he takes a breath and swallows back a lump in his throat. "Maybe you guys should go? He seems pretty upset."
"You think?" Kyle raises an eyebrow, but stands all the same. He's visibly stiff, like he's afraid he'll give too much away if he dares give himself any leeway. "Take care, man," he says and gives Stan an awkward clap on the back, before turning to Kenny. "Walk with you?"
This snaps Kenny back into himself, jarring him back into reality with an electric sort of awareness that makes his limbs feel heavy and his heart feel like it's about to explode.
Not that Gary and Stan were probably as careful as they should have been, but fuck. They got caught. Or, Gary did, at least.
"Kenny!" Kyle snaps, and Kenny gets to standing. He tells Stan goodbye and trudges up the stairs and out the door. It's nighttime now, and it's cold enough for Kenny to justify putting up his hood and shutting it almost completely.
"Man, can you believe that shit?" Kyle asks. "I mean, I don't like the guy, but goddamn. Could you imagine a parent doing that to their kid? Mormons are all sorts of fucked up, dude."
Kenny doesn't reply any further than a hum. He could only imagine what would happen if his dad saw the sorts of things he thought about doing to Butters, let alone any written evidence of it. Getting his ass kicked is probably the least of his worries, because depending on his blood alcohol content and what sorts of objects were around for Kenny to knock into as collateral damage, he'd probably get it bad enough to just come back with a new body. His dad knows that, though. No, Stuart would fuck him up just enough so that he's worse for the wear, and then kick his ass to the curb.
"You okay?" Kyle asks.
Kenny shakes his head, "Fine, dude."
They get to Kyle's house not soon after, where Kenny sees him off with a salute before continuing on.
He'd almost gotten caught with Butters, hadn't he? His parents had just gotten home, right when Kenny and Butters were about to get into… well, into whatever. What if they'd already been going at it? What would've happened then? Butters back at that gay correctional facility, probably, and Kenny on the couch, facing his parents, trying to talk his way around of being found with a dick in his mouth.
When Kenny gets home, it's just his dad on the couch, bottle clutched loosely in his hand and cap tipped low over his eyes. If Kenny didn't know any better, or see his stomach moving, he'd have assumed the worst. He quietly tiptoes past the couch and up the stairs, avoiding most of the squeaky boards and shuts himself in his room.
Kenny digs around in his dresser for his weed and his pipe, figuring he's earned this after the day he's had. He takes a drag just as he hears the truck roll up outside, holding it for as long as possible, just in case Kevin decides to come in and talk to him. Sure enough, Kenny hears Kevin's heavy trodding up the steps, followed by a quick knock on his door, and Stuart shouting at them to "Shut the goddamned fucking fuck up".
"Ken, open up," Kevin says. Kenny grunts and rolls to his feet, pipe still in hand as he goes to open his door.
"What," Kenny demands more than asks. Kevin pushes his way in the room, shedding his coat on the floor and grabbing the pipe out of Kenny's hands, taking a long drag off the end.
"So, I'm working a few streets up, repaving that pot hole, right?" he begins. Kenny blinks a few times before shaking his head.
"Sure, Kevin," he replies, waving a hand so Kevin will just keep talking.
"It's right in front of that weird-ass Mormon family's house, right?" Kevin plops down on Kenny's bed. Kenny's gut drops. Oh no… "Shit turns into a shouting match inside the house all of a sudden," Kevin continues, unaffected by Kenny's sudden change in demeanor. "It fucking ends with your buddy leaving the house, crying like a little bitch. He's a fucking faggot, dude, for real. Heard his mom say it and everything. You… You got your ass kicked by a butt-reaming queer."
Kenny hides his face in his hands, "God fucking damn it, Kevin."
"I know!" Kevin exclaims. "You think I like that my little brother can't hold his own against a cocksucking fairy? It's embarrassing."
"Kevin, shut up," Kenny pleads, too tired to hear where the rest of this is going.
"Good news, though," Kevin shrugs, handing Kenny back the pipe as he stands. "Gives us a chance for a little heterosexual male bonding. You and me, let's go kick his ass."
Kenny blinks again, this time entirely uncertain that he's hearing this correctly.
"What now?"
"You and me," Kevin nods, smiling like the fucking oaf that he is. "Let's find him and restore your good name."
"Uh, have you seen our lives, Kevin?" Kenny gestures to his pit of a room. "It's not a great name to begin with."
"Man, what the fuck is with you?" Kevin scowls and gives Kenny a shove. "You've been acting really fuckin' weird lately, man."
Kenny looks at him for a second before giving a laugh and shaking his head. "You're insane," he says.
"No way," Kevin shakes his head, putting one of his atrociously large paws against Kenny's chest and backing him up against his door. "I'm trying to be nice to you, and all you're doing is giving me shit. That's no way to treat a brother."
He jabs Kenny in the ribs, even smiles a little when Kenny screws his eyes shut and grunts. Right in the bruise. Kevin's like a drug sniffing German Shepherd when it comes to these things.
"You don't laugh at any of my jokes," Kevin continues.
"Your jokes aren't that funny, Kev," Kenny says very plainly, even though he knows it'll get him another jab.
"You've got that goony fucking smile on your face all the time," Kevin points out, "but if you were nailing someone, you would've told me. Right?"
Kenny nods.
"Then maybe," Kevin continues, "Your friends are getting a bit of their fairy dust on you. That's who you hang out with, right? All your little faggot friends… you always have. They're so smart and so nice, good people… that's what you always say about them, right? Little did you know, they'd have you sucking the AIDS right out of their dicks as soon as you let them."
"Get the fuck off me, Kevin!" Kenny shouts, head-butting him when all other attempts to squirm away fail. Kevin reels back, holding his forehead and wincing as Kenny rubs at his own. "No one's sucking anyone's cock, okay? I'm not a fucking faggot, Jesus Christ."
Kenny doesn't even realize the words flew out of his mouth until Kevin looks at him, nodding.
"I know, man," he says, standing up a little straighter. "Man, I know that. You're too good to get sucked into that shit. And hey, those Mormons may be fucking weirdoes, but at least they got that shit out of the house, y'know? Keeping it around only makes it spread."
"I'm pretty sure that's not true, Kevin," Kenny pants a bit, still catching his breath. This is the most humanely Kevin has acted toward him in a very long time. It's kind of nice, actually. Not that he likes Kevin as a person, but they are brothers.
"Whatever, man," Kevin shakes his head. "Hey, if you're not gonna kick his ass with me, you wanna see if I can sneak you into a titty bar? Saturday night, you know it'll be a good line-up."
Kenny's not sure what possesses him to say yes, but he finds him in the truck all the same, blasting some CCR with the windows down and singing along with Kevin, whose voice isn't as bad as his demeanor and personality would lead you to believe. Maybe it was seeing how down and out dejected Gary looked, or maybe it's knowing the exact same thing would happen to him if he wasn't careful.
The thing is, though, the more that he's around Butters, the less and less careful he gets.
He pulls out his phone, bringing up a message to Butters.
'we cant fuck around nemore. srry. see u school'
He turns off his phone entirely and shoves it back in his pocket, smiling and singing along with Kevin, even though all the good feelings are gone, and his chest is now left vacant and hollow.
Wow, this chapter took a while to get out. Sorry about that, but life got in the way and is kind of refusing not to be a pain in the ass right now. I'm in the home stretch, almost done with school, so my time will be significantly more occupied over the next few weeks. I'm going to try to keep up with this story as best as I can, though.
Thank you to all who read and review and all. I appreciate the hell out of it, and your kind words really to give me a case of the warm fuzzies.
Chapter title comes from the song Private Life by Oingo Boingo. It really does encompass a lot of Kenny feels for this story, so if you have the time, it's definitely worth a listen.
Have a great holiday weekend, everyone!
