Chapter 14: Just Status Quo
Being angry isn't all it's cracked up to be. Butters doesn't like being angry—he never has—but everything his parents say makes the sides of his vision go all blurry and makes his jaw tense up, which makes his teeth hurt and gives him headaches.
So, he just lies about spending time at the library or helping drama club and smokes weed with Kenny at Stark's Pond instead. Weed calms him down, makes his brain feel good and puts him at peace with the world. A lot of that could also be Kenny, who's always nice to him even when his brain gets all hot and works too fast and makes his body hurt.
"Kevin still hasn't come back?" Butters asks just as he takes in a big lungful of smoke. It's still way too cold to be outside at the moment, but they're huddled up together under a tree and it's warm enough for now.
"He called to tell my mom he's staying with his girlfriend while he finishes this job," Kenny shakes his head and takes the joint back from Butters.
"You think he'll tell your parents?" Butters coughs out a plume of smoke. "About findin' us, I mean?"
Kenny rolls his eyes, like he can't bear to spare it another thought, and takes a hit.
"I don't know," his voice comes out strained as he holds his breath for as long as he can. Butters takes the joint back and inhales again as Kenny continues, "He's homophobic and a fucking idiot, so I don't see why he wouldn't."
Butters laughs, letting out a cloud of smoke that Kenny (of course) chomps at, attempting to salvage it. It only makes Butters laugh harder, "You look like a fish."
Kenny shoves him and takes the joint from him, pausing momentarily to kiss Butters on the jaw. Butters feels warm, sweet things bubble up inside him and nuzzles the curve of Kenny's neck as he takes another drag and continues, "I don't know... I could deal with getting kicked out, I guess. Couch surf until I'm old enough to sign an apartment lease. I just hate leaving behind Karen, y'know?"
"Alas, I was not cursed with the yoke of siblinghood," Butters shakes his head and gives a wistful sigh. Kenny prods him in the side.
"Jackass," he mutters. He takes in one last drag before offering the rest of the joint to Butters, which he takes gladly. "I'd hate to leave my mom too," Kenny says and lets out the smoke. "I mean, I know she can take care of herself and everything, but I'd miss her."
Butters raises his eyebrows, which only makes Kenny more defensive. "Dude, she means well," he insists, only to tack on as an afterthought, "in her own way."
Butters shakes his head and brings the joint to his lips, "They all do, don't they?" He finishes off the joint and flicks the remains into the snow at their feet. They go to sit on a bench at the pond—or, Kenny sits on the bench and Butters lies down with his head on Kenny's lap. That way Kenny will play with his hair, and he likes when Kenny does that.
"Y'know," Butters begins as Kenny's fingers stroke softly over his forehead. "Call me crazy, but… would it be so bad if you told your parents? Like, before Kevin can?"
"Jesus Christ, are you insane?" Kenny laughs. "At least if Kevin tells them I won't be in the room. I tell 'em, I'm at point blank range, man. Getting a bullet to the head isn't as fun as it sounds." He flicks Butters right in the center of the forehead for emphasis, only to bend down and kiss it better a moment later.
Butters' eyebrows pinch together of their own accord—Kenny's always saying weird stuff like that. Everyone just brushes it off, because Kenny's kind of a weird guy in general, but something about hearing it this time makes Butters pause and reach up to brush his fingers over the center of Kenny's forehead.
"Effective, though, I bet," he says, and Kenny raises an eyebrow.
"Dude, cut that shit out," he settles back against the bench. "Dying isn't fucking fun, all right? You should know, you almost did."
Butters' frown deepens at this, thoughts fuzzy and inhibitions long gone, and he says, "Maybe it's not fun, but you only have to go through it once. Then you're dead, so it doesn't matter."
Kenny shakes his head, obviously uncomfortable. "Whatever man, let's not talk about it anymore," he mutters. Butters sighs and just looks up at the clear blue sky above them. He feels those thoughts creeping up on him, the ones he only gets when he's left with nothing else to ponder.
… Or when he gets really, really high, which he supposes he is right now.
"Do you ever stop an' think about how small we are?" he asks.
Kenny looks back down at him, and for a moment Butters is certain he's going to get a tired, sourpuss eye roll. Instead he just gets a laugh, "I love when you get stoned, it's fucking incredible."
"No!" Butters laughs and halfheartedly swats at Kenny's face (and misses). "I'm bein' serious, jerk. It's like… everything else in the universe is so giant, and we're so little. Everything about life just seems so pointless, you know? Like, bein' worried about stuff—what's the point when the sun's just gonna explode one day and obliterate not just everything on the planet, but everything in the solar system. Nothing matters. How in the hell are we supposed to deal with that."
Kenny looks like he's pondering this hard before he looks up at the sky too, like he's searching for something he knows he'll never find. "Then if we're so small and insignificant, isn't it more amazing that we were even born?" Kenny finally asks. Butters must give him a weird look, because Kenny laughs then and hangs his head. "One of us has to look on the bright side, dude."
"You didn't make that up on your own, did you?" Butters asks.
"Uh, that's totally Monty Python, I think," Kenny laughs. And then Butters laughs, and Butters can't tell how long they're laughing, just that they finally stop long enough to kiss in plain sight on this bench, for all the world to see. That's definitely the weed, he thinks, because there's no way either of them would be comfortable enough to do that otherwise.
Butters checks his watch when Kenny pulls away and sighs. "I told Wendy I'd sit in on auditions for the spring musical, since they're not gonna let me be in it," he says.
"I'm sorry, baby," Kenny ticks his tongue against his teeth and strokes over Butters' hair. They decided on performing Grease a while ago, and Wendy insists on picking up as much slack as she can where she's prohibited Butters from helping. "You need to focus on getting better," she says, like Butters an invalid for crying out loud.
"I'm already betting that Bridon kid gets cast as Danny Zuko," Butters shakes his head. "He's not even in the club—doesn't even like performing, an' he's gonna do it anyway just 'cause he knows we don't have anyone else."
Butters hauls himself off the bench and stumbles a bit on his feet, which makes Kenny laugh and hold him steady when he stands.
"Grease," he says as they walk in the direction of Butters' car. "Is that the one with, uh… 'tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car'?"
Butters laughs, because Kenny singing (even half-assed and stoned) is one of the greatest things on the planet. "Yeah, that's the one," he says. "Those su-hu-mmer nights," he sings back and Kenny laughs.
Butters lets Kenny drive ("I'm not even buzzed, I promise"), and they make it back to the school with only minutes to spare. They're auditioning boys today, while the girls were yesterday; this means that, apart from the collection of teachers they've gotten to help with casting, Wendy is sitting in the back of the auditorium when they get there.
"I'm just scoping out the talent," Wendy insists as Butters sits beside her, taking only a moment to identify the smell on his jacket before clapping a hand over her mouth. "Butters, are you high?" She mouths the last word, which makes Kenny roll his eyes and tell Butters to come get him behind the school when he's done.
"It helps, Wendy," Butters mumbles and kicks his feet up on the back of his chair. "Honest, I'm just doin' it 'cause it helps me feel less shitty."
"Don't burn out on me, please," she begs.
"I won't," Butters sighs and leans to rest his head of Wendy's shoulder. "I wish I could be in this with you."
"Oh, Butters," she says, a certain fondness in her voice that she tends to use only when addressing Butters. "We're gonna have fun anyway. And as long as you're okay, I'm happy."
The auditions start and, honestly, there's a little more talent in these guys than Butters first anticipated. A couple of freshman would make some good greasers, and will definitely serve the club well when the seniors leave. Stan sings a song with his guitar, which reminds both Butters and Wendy that Stan is actually a talented performer. Bridon's audition is flawless as always, of course, and Wendy lets out a little whine at the thought of having to perform alongside him.
"Was that the last one?" Wendy whines when she sees the teachers sitting a few rows up start to deliberate.
"Shit, I guess so," Butters sits up. He's starting to come down, and wonders if Kenny will smoke with him again before taking him home. In fact, the only thing that stops him from going forth and seeking to complete this task is the boy in question walking out on stage and giving the teachers a little wave.
"Uh, hi," he grins. "I'm not on any list or anything… It's kind of an impromptu thing."
"Oh, all right," the drama teacher gives a wary reply. "Do you have a monologue, or a song to sing?"
Even from all the way in the back of the theater, Butters can see Kenny's face fall. "I don't really know any of the songs from the movie… uh, play, I mean," he says.
"Well, do you have any songs you know that sound like the songs in Grease?" she asks. Kenny pauses and thinks, so she offers, "Something that you not only know you can sing, but something you know you'd be able to perform."
As Kenny thinks, Butters settles back into his seat. Wendy is stock still next to him, and wonders aloud, "Can he even sing, or is he just being an ass like the rest of his friends."
"I got ten bucks that says that boy belts out Aretha Franklin," Butters laughs to himself, and Wendy rolls her eyes.
"You're both high," she groans and flops back with Butters.
Kenny turns around then, and for a second Butters thinks he might run off the stage. But no, he turns back around and starts in, in this raspy, flawless voice, "Alarm goes off at seven/and you start uptown—"
"Oh, my god," Wendy murmurs and sits back up. "He's doing—what is he doing?"
Butters can't talk for a second; he's stunned into momentary silence as Kenny's voice washes over him. Then he starts laughing as the song starts picking up and Kenny starts belting out with all his heart.
"Little Shop of Horrors," Butters sinks in his seat. "Skid Row."
And he's singing the fuck out of it, too. He doesn't even need a microphone, and with every word he becomes more and more engrossed in the performance. It's good to see Kenny let go like that—he looks happy up there, like singing and performing gives him more joy than he would ever allow himself otherwise.
"Downtown/Where the hop-heads flop in the snow/Down on Skid Row,"
"He's… he's good," Wendy whispers, impressed.
"I know," Butters watches, awestruck as Kenny absolutely loses himself in it. Kenny is gorgeous up there, and, if Butters is being honest, the whole thing is a little arousing. Butters shifts so his jacket is draped over his crotch—not using it to shield what's there so much as using it as a precaution—and shifts low in his seat.
"He doesn't even need a microphone," Wendy marvels, seemingly hours behind Butters, and glances over at him. He must look even less subtle than he thought. "I—Butters, do you have an erection?" she hisses.
"What!" Butters angles himself away from her. "You don't know, all right? Keep them judgin' eyes to yourself, sister."
Wendy rolls her eyes and watches with a little more dread (just a little bit) as Kenny moves flawlessly from one part of the song to another.
"Oh, god, he's doing all the parts, isn't he," Wendy sounds like she wants to be annoyed, but she simply isn't. The teachers don't even stop him—they're as enthralled as Wendy and Butters. There's an undeniable truth in the performance, something so utterly believable as Kenny belts out, "Please won't somebody say I'll get out of here/Someone gimme my shot, or I'll rot here" that makes Butters realize something he's pretty sure he's always known.
"Gee it sure would be swell to get out of here,"
Kenny is just as miserable here as Butters is.
"Bid the gutter farewell and get outta here,"
He wants to get out of here just as badly as Butters does.
"I'd move heaven and hell to get out of Skid,"
… maybe he even wants to get out of there with Butters, as crazy as it sounds.
"I'd do I don't know what to get out of Skid,"
Maybe if Butters wasn't such an immobile jackass half the time, too afraid of his own shadow to do anything about it.
"But a hell of a lot to get out of Skid,"
Oh god, it feels like Kenny is singing right at him now.
"People tell me there's not a way out of Skid,"
And it's making Butters' chest feel funny and his buzz diminish considerably.
"But believe me I've gotta get outta Skid Row!"
He holds the last note so long and so perfectly that it does something funny to Butters' insides. The teachers go against audition decorum and actually stand up and applaud him. Wendy follows their example, and Butters would too if he didn't have an erection the size of Florida in his jeans.
When Kenny trots off stage, Wendy looks down at Butters and tosses her head at the door. "Come on, I wanna go talk to him."
"You go," Butters offers her a smile. "I-I gotta just sit here an'… soak in that last resonating note."
Wendy just rolls her eyes and grabs him by the wrist. "I could care less about your erection, Butters," she says.
"Aw," Butters pouts as he's toted out of the auditorium. He looks down at his crotch and insists, "She didn't mean it, li'l fella. Don't cry."
Wendy actually stops at that and holds up her hand. "Did you—" she stops herself there and shakes her head. "You perv!" she smacks him on the arm.
"What!" Butters laughs, "He's a crier, what can I say?"
"You are not allowed to let Kenny McCormick pervert your mind, young man," Wendy smacks him again. He laughs, which means, okay, his buzz isn't entirely gone, but the pit in his stomach is starting to come back for real.
When Kenny comes out the stage door around the side of the building, Butters gets a little thrill of excitement. He hasn't felt that kind of thing in what seems like forever, but Kenny is all flushed and has that boneless, post-performance look that makes Butters want to kiss the dazed smile right off his face.
"Was I okay?" he asks as he walks over to Wendy and Butters.
Wendy gets to a response before Butters can. Today's preferred method appears to be smacking, as she smacks him on the shoulder and all but shouts, "You've been holding that fucking much back on us, you dirty asshole?!"
"Stop hitting me, Jesus!" Kenny moves to duck behind Butters, which is funny enough because Butters is at least four inches shorter than him.
"Oh, you think I won't hit him to get to you?" Wendy asks and starts smacking them both. "You are both unimaginable dickheads!"
"What did I do?" Butters asks.
"Dude, Wendy," Kenny laughs, "It was just a joke, okay? I'm not going to be in your play or anything, it's fine."
"Are you kidding me!" Wendy shouts. "Kenny, you were perfect."
Kenny looks genuinely stunned by this, and he takes a step away from both of them. "You guys are fucking high," he laughs, more nervous this time. "Guys, I don't do this kind of shit, okay? I did it—" Kenny falters and looks just past Butters' head. "I did it because you were upset and I thought it'd cheer you up."
"You were singing to me!" Butters yelps, a little more accusatory than he'd meant, and claps his hand over his mouth.
"No!" Kenny defends really quickly. "I just—did that thing where you pick a spot on the back wall and you focus on it."
There's a moment of silence that Wendy lets pass before she starts in, "Kenny, you're… amazingly talented," she says. "And I'm not blowing smoke up your ass or anything like that. You're genuinely good."
Kenny doesn't look like he has anything to say to this, so he just stares at the concrete under Butters' shoes and keeps his mouth shut.
"If," Wendy begins. "Kenny, if you were cast in the play, you'd be in it, right?"
Kenny looks up at Wendy with uncertainty behind his eyes, and then to Butters, like Butters can answer the question for him. Butters just lets a deep breath out of his lungs and folds his arms over his chest.
"You really are good," he says. "No one'll force you to be in it if you don't want, but," he stops there and does a quick look around, just to make sure no one's watching, and pulls Kenny into a quick kiss that makes Wendy give a soft, "oh!" behind them.
"Kenny, if I were even half as good as you, I'd want everyone to know," he strokes his hand over Kenny's cheek. "All the people who've pissed on you over the years and told you you're no good? Nothin' like a final hurrah to prove 'em all wrong."
"Oh, my god," Wendy rolls her eyes. "Kenny, don't do it out of spite, do it because you love it. And while you were up there singing that song—which I have no clue how you know by heart, by the way—"
"I had a lot of downtime at the video store," Kenny supplies.
"You know it just from watching it!?" Wendy exclaims and hits him again. "Kenny, people actually have to practice this kind of thing. Normal people don't just watch a movie a few times and know the songs perfectly. How many more times do we have to tell you how good you are before you'll listen?"
Kenny stuffs his hands in the pockets of his parka and scuffs his boot on the concrete. "It was just to make you feel better," he murmurs, hoping only Butters can hear, but Wendy must catch it too. Butters wraps his arms around Kenny's shoulders and pulls him into a hug.
"No one'll make you do anything you don't want to, darlin'," he says. Dealing with Kenny and focusing on Kenny is much easier than his own stuff.
"He won't," Wendy jumps in. "I will."
Butters shushes her and holds Kenny close to him, giving Wendy a frown before kissing Kenny in his hair.
"Oh, my god," Wendy groans. "You guys are the worst kind of couple, I swear."
And it's probably the leftover buzz, or even Kenny's residual performance high, but they both lay over-the-top sloppy kisses all over each other, just to be assholes. Only then it turns into them really kissing, and Butters can feel his erection slowly coming back to life. And while the display does get rid of Wendy, it also leaves Butters wanting to do much more than just stand behind the auditorium and make out.
"Kenny," he murmurs. "Kenny, we're outside," he pushes Kenny away and swipes his hand over the trail of spit on his cheek and jaw. Kenny has this dazed look on his face, all hazy and smiley—it does something to Butters, makes his heart happy even though his brain is starting to hurt again.
"Are your parents home?" Kenny asks.
Butters lets himself grin and pats Kenny's chest. "I like where your head's at," he nods. His dad's been more and more scarce lately, and his mom has been spending time with her church lady friends in the hopes that they'll help pray her son's gay away. Butters could stand to fool around in his own bed for once, instead of on Kenny's lumpy mattress.
They rush back to Butters' house, with Butters driving this time, and upon seeing that neither of his parents are home nearly fall over themselves running up to Butters' room.
"How long do we have, you think?" Kenny asks as he shucks his parka. He's wearing a shirt he stole from Butters, a yellow one that Butters has been looking for these last couple of days.
"I don't know," Butters shrugs and discards his jacket too. "Let's not waste time talkin' about it."
The only nice thing he's discovered about feeling so shitty is that sex actually helps. It might not if it was with anyone else, but with Kenny it feels good. Kisses feel good and touching feels good, and having someone pressed against him who doesn't think he's a total failure of a human being is actually quite nice. Kenny also loves Butters enough to let him come inside him, and that never fails to make Butters' head reel.
"Watchin' you singin' up there made me so hard," Butters breathes as Kenny starts undoing his pants. "The way you get so into it… reminds me of bein' inside you. You just forget everything and lose yourself."
Kenny looks at him with this glazed over look in his eye and gulps back something in his throat as Butters nips at his chin and murmurs, "So fucking sexy."
Butters finds himself slammed back against the bedroom door for that, with Kenny's mouth on his and hands in his pants. In what feels like seconds flat they're both out of their pants, and Kenny is rooting around in Butters' closet for his bag of tricks, cock bobbing tantalizingly between his legs.
"Ever done it standing up?" Kenny asks as he grabs the bottle of lube from the bottom of the duffle bag, which only results in Butters giving him a look.
"Do I look like the kinda fella who's never been fucked against a door to you?" Butters laughs, and Kenny all but growls as he pins Butters to the door and starts kissing his neck. Butters loves it: it's enough to get his mind away from all his yucky thoughts, to electrify every single part of him.
It's almost as though in this moment he can forget all about everything. There is no depression, there is no being poor, there's nothing like that. In this moment, the world is just the two of them—just Butters' wrapped around Kenny, just Kenny's cock pressed against his, just Kenny's slick fingers sliding into him and stretching him open.
Of course, Kenny starts talking the second after he strokes against that little bundle of nerves, just when Butters' head thunks back against the hard wood behind him. "I lied," he hums against Butters' jaw. "I was singing to you."
It's simultaneously the sweetest and corniest thing Butters has ever heard, and not a moment later Kenny has him turned around and pinned.
"Condom?" Kenny asks, and Butters whines.
"If I get to come in you, you get to come in me," he huffs, fingernails already biting into the paint on the door. He hears the lube open and close one more time before he gets the sweet stretch of Kenny's erection pressing inside him. It's kind of a wonky angle, since Kenny's taller than him, but he starts thrusting nice and slow and goddamn if it doesn't feel incredible.
"Shit," Kenny rests his forehead on Butters' shoulder and stops, trying to steady out his breathing. "Um. Let me know if I fuck up," he gulps, like he's only just realized what he's doing.
"You okay?" Butters turns his head and asks. "We could go on my bed if you want."
Kenny swallows again, bringing his hand up to ruffle Butters' hair, and asks, "Do you want to?"
Butters grins, even with his cheek pushed into the door. "No, I like it like this," he replies. "I'm fine, Ken, I promise."
Kenny nods, hiding his face in the crook of Butters' neck as he starts moving again. He's careful, but not so much that Butters feels like he's going to have to take the reins and guide him through it. Kenny's a fast learner when it comes to this kind of thing.
It's enough to make Butters' brain go fuzzy after a while, rendering him a whimpering, useless mass as Kenny starts fucking him harder and faster.
It doesn't last an impressively long time. In fact it's just long enough for Kenny to reach around and start stroking Butters' cock in haphazard time before he bucks up into Butters so hard that the wall shakes, and groans so loud that the neighbors can probably hear. Kenny's come is inside him—the thought alone is enough to push Butters close to the edge. Then Kenny pulls back and wets the tips of his fingers before turning his attention back to Butters' erection.
"You always taste good," he sighs and captures Butters' earlobe between his teeth. That's all it takes- Butters comes hard on the end of a desperate shout, all over the door and Kenny's hand, bucking and writhing even though Kenny is holding him still as best he can.
"Jeez," Butters lets out a breathy laugh as Kenny kisses the back of his neck.
"That was a big one," Kenny says as he pulls his hand away from Butters' cock. "Did you not jerk off this morning or something?"
Butters laughs and moves so Kenny slides out of him. He has to clean up that mess before it dries, or leaks onto the floor and stains the carpet.
"I popped a stiffy in the theater," he says as he grabs a few tissues off his desk and mops up the door. "Almost creamed my shorts near the end there."
Kenny smiles at this and presses into Butters as he kisses him, soft and tender and completely mind-altering. Before it was too quick, too hurried, with need too insistent. Now they can touch each other the way they like to, slow and, dare Butters even think it, sensual.
Even thinking the word makes him feel like an old lady.
Then he hears the front door open and close downstairs and he's immediately reminded of the world he left behind.
"Fuck," he mutters and tosses the tissues in the trash. "Someone's home. You gotta get outta here before they send me away to a military school in Alaska or somethin'."
He and Kenny get dressed at lightning speed, but it doesn't help. Judging by the sound of the footsteps coming up the stairs and heading down the hallway, his mom is about two seconds away from getting an eyeful of Kenny's dick. All this and still Butters is too dense to think to lock his door before his mom can open it.
"Butters, I was thinking for di—Oh, my word!" she yelps and shuts the door again. "Oh, absolutely not!" she raves out in the hallway. "That is absolutely the last straw, young man," she opens the door again and shoots daggers at Kenny. "And you—I don't think your parents are going to appreciate hearing about this one little bit."
Butters' face falls as he looks over at Kenny, who's only just zipping up the front of his pants when he blurts out a pretty confused, "Uh, what?"
"If you think this isn't getting back to your parents, young man, then you are sorely mistaken," Linda shakes her head and adjusts her purse on her shoulder.
"Mom, you can't tell Kenny's parents!" Butters yelps. "They don't know about him, you don't just out people."
His mom cocks her head at him and gives him what she must think is a very sympathetic look. "Sweetheart, I'm helping you both," she says. "The sooner his parents are made aware, the sooner you both can start getting better. Kenny, you come with me," she says, and then turns a hardened look on Butters, "and if I come home and see you anywhere but at your desk with your nose in a book, mister, you will be in for it."
Kenny doesn't move, and when Linda is halfway down the hall she comes down the hall again and reappears in the door. "I am going to have a chat with your mother and you are either going to come with me or I will call the police to get you off of my property," she insists sharply.
"Mom!" Butters snaps, but Kenny throws his hands up and shakes his head.
"It's fine," he says to Butters, and before he follows Linda he grabs Butters' face and plants a big kiss on his lips. Linda drags him off for that, slamming Butters' door behind them and leaving Butters feeling cold and empty and more utterly alone than he's felt in weeks.
oooooo
Kenny's heart is in his throat the entire ride back to his house. The Stotches never fail to make Kenny feel intensely uncomfortable, and the fact that Linda refuses to speak the entire ride home makes Kenny uneasy as all hell.
Truth be told, Linda Stotch is a terrifying woman, and Kenny wouldn't put it past her to drive him into a river and let him drown. The only thing that pacifies him about that, for once, is that he'd be able to come back.
Unfortunately, where they end up is just as bad. They're at his house, and his and Kevin's truck is in the driveway.
Great. If his dad's home and/or conscious, that will just be the cherry on top of the whole thing.
Kenny trudges behind Mrs. Stotch as she walks briskly up to the house and raps her knuckles smartly against the front door. He only just comes to stand next to her when his mom pulls the door open and gives Kenny a puzzled look. Hopefully, she's sober… or, maybe it would be better if she wasn't.
"Uh, can I help you, Linda?" she asks. Mrs. Stotch adjusts her bag on her shoulder and puts a stray strand o hair back in place atop her head.
"I have something to discuss with you, Carol," she says. "It's about your son."
His mom gives him a stern look as she lets Mrs. Stotch in the house and asks, harshly, "Goddamn it, Kenny, are you blowin' up people's mailboxes again?"
"No, ma!" Kenny snaps. He did that once when he was thirteen, and now that's all anyone ever accuses him of. He sees Kevin and Karen watching TV, and he prays Mrs. Stotch will have the decency to ask them to clear out before she starts in with—
"I came home and found your son defiling my poor Butters."
Or not.
Kenny looks over to the couch to see that Kevin and Karen have both stopped watching TV and are now paying full attention to the scene unfurling before them. For a split second, Kenny thinks Kevin might look as worried as Karen, but he quickly gets up not a second later and disappears upstairs.
His mom, meanwhile, is standing with her arms folded across her chest as she stares at Mrs. Stotch.
"Just what are you talkin' about, Linda?" she finally asks.
"I am talking about sex," Mrs. Stotch whispers the last word. And when Kenny's mom doesn't respond further than raising her eyebrow, she becomes unbelievably enraged. "Carol, your son is-is-is," she flails rather spectacularly before bursting out, "Your son is perverting my poor Butters!"
Kenny can't help it, he laughs at that. Both his mom and Mrs. Stotch shoot him a look for that, and Kenny has to remind himself that he is not allowed to make a comment about how Butters was the one who went down on him in a back alley first.
"He's not even sorry!" Mrs. Stotch exclaims.
"Of course I'm not sorry," Kenny counters back, anger flaring up inside him. "I didn't do anything wrong to him and it's none of your business, so I shouldn't have to be sorry to you."
"You are corrupting my son," Mrs. Stotch scowls. "And while my son is living under my roof and is still under my care, he is my business."
"Yeah, now that he tried to kill himself he's your business, right?" Kenny snaps. "Now that everyone's watching your every move, sure he's your fucking business."
The outburst surprises everyone, including his mom, who has been weirdly cool throughout this entire thing. Karen is suddenly next to him with a comforting hand on his shoulder while Mrs. Stotch's head starts shaking back and forth.
"You have no right," she says softly. "Absolutely no right."
"Yeah, the same way you have no right to come over to my home and make a scene, Linda," Carol insists. "I have other things I need to worry about in my life, Linda. Tryin' to put food on the table is a higher priority than where my son decides to put his pecker."
Mrs. Stotch hums and cocks her head. "And where exactly does smoking crack rank on your list of priorities?" she asks. "One call and I could have these two in the hands of CPS faster than you can say 'foster care'."
Honest to God, Kenny has to actually hold Karen back after that. She's as scrappy and hotheaded as the rest of them—she is a McCormick after all. Mrs. Stotch just smiles at the three of them before staring directly at Kenny and says, "If you come anywhere near my son again, that will happen."
She offers Carol a smile. "Have a nice day," she beams, and with that she's gone.
Kenny's blood goes cold as Carol watches Mrs. Stotch drive away out the window. She slaps the blinds shut and rounds on Kenny, demanding, "You'd better start talkin' fast, young man."
Kenny looks at Karen for a bit of back up, but all he gets is a shrug. So Kenny looks at his feet and takes a breath. "I like guys," he says. "I wasn't seeing a girl, I was seeing Butters, and I'm just gonna go up to my room for a while."
He doesn't wait for a response, just trudges up the stairs, past where Kevin is lurking in his doorway, and shuts himself up in his room, hopefully for good. There is nothing short of snuggling up next to Butters and falling asleep on top of him that will soothe this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. And if he ever gets caught around Butters again, it's more than likely that Mrs. Stotch will call CPS and get him and Karen removed from his parents' care.
For good this time, probably. Not that it matters too much for Kenny, since he'll be eighteen later this year, but Karen's still got a few years left.
Maybe Kenny could steal her away once he turned eighteen or something and they could live together down in Denver.
"What a fucking gash."
Kenny looks over at his door and frowns. Kevin is there, arms folded and looking anywhere but where Kenny.
"Fuck off, Kevin," Kenny replies weakly, not feeling up to the impending fight.
"Shoulda fucking known no good would come out of you being a corn-holing fairy princess," Kevin shakes his head. "Now you're gonna get your ass and Karen's put in foster care. Good fucking job."
"Off," Kenny reiterates, this time into his pillow. "I need you to fuck it."
"Shut your cocksucker, Liberace," Kevin gives a tired groan. "That's what got you into this fucking mess."
Kenny sits up on his bed and looks Kevin right in the eye. "Since you seem to be so fucking interested in the goings on of cocksucking queers like myself, how about I give you a play by play of how I just blew my load in the school faggot's ass. Is that what you want, Kevin? Because I swear to god I'm two seconds away from telling you all about how his ass just swallowed my cock so nice—"
"Aw, fucking disgusting!" Kevin shouts, face all contorted like he's just seen a mass open grave site. "That's exactly what the fuck I caught your faggot asses doing the other day, isn't it?"
"Ah, no," Kenny stands now, walking over to grab his door. "I'm afraid that was when I had another guy's spunk oozing out—"
"Ugh, you let him—aren't you fuckers supposed to use condoms and shit so you don't get AIDS or whatever?"
Kenny's face falls immediately at this. Kevin seems to realize what he's said too, but it doesn't keep Kenny from opening his mouth and asking, "Kevin, are you saying you'd care if your butt-reaming pole-smoker of a little brother died of AIDS?"
Kevin's face contorts back into a snarl as he grabs the doorknob and slams the door shut.
Okay, Kenny definitely had not been expecting that.
He crawls back into his bed and burrows under his covers. If he tries he can still smell Butters on them from where they napped through fifth and sixth period yesterday. He likes lying around with Butters and smoking weed with him—Butters is actually visibly better when he smokes, and since his parents are insane and won't get him the help he needs… well, Kenny's glad he can be of some assistance.
His door opens up a while later, and he hears his mom ask, "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," Kenny answers from under his covers. The door closes and soon his mattress dips slightly under his mom's weight. Kenny takes a breath and braces himself for the worst.
"You don't think I believe for a second that you don't like girls anymore, do you?" she asks. Kenny frowns and turns over, pulling his blankets off his face and giving her a puzzled look.
"That's not what I said," he says. "I just said I like boys."
"That's what I thought," his mom shakes his head and pats him on the leg. "Your brother's down there ranting and raving about how you could just decide not to like girls anymore."
Kenny blinks a few times, letting the words sink in before he wonders aloud, "You're not mad?"
"Oh, baby," she sighs and strokes her hand over his hair. "I'm not fond of it, I won't lie to you... but you mean a lot more to me than whoever you sleep with, I did mean that."
It's not perfect, but it makes Kenny so much happier than he thought he could be. He sits up and pulls his mom into a hug. She doesn't hesitate either, just hugs him right back.
"And if that woman tries to get you and your sister taken away, we'll give her hell," his mom says and pulls back. She gives him a look that's somewhere between fondness and genuine bewilderment as she strokes a loving hand over his cheek, but decides to put aside whatever is troubling her and kisses Kenny on his forehead.
"I love you, baby," she says and stands to leave.
"Mom," Kenny stops her. She turns back to him, and Kenny asks, "You're not going to tell dad, are you?"
"Good lord, I'm not retarded," she gives him this look that makes him laugh in spite of the gravity of the situation. "Your dad doesn't have to know a thing about it."
Kenny's shoulders drop at that and he gives his mom a shaky smile. "Thanks," he says, and then remembers as soon as she's to the door. "Mom?"
"Yes, baby," she turns back, a little more impatient this time.
"I think I might be in a musical in spring," he looks down at his hands. "Would you come see me if I was?"
He glances up at her just as she gives him a tired smile. "Only if they let you use that beautiful voice of yours," she says. "I have the night shift tonight, so I'll be out of here in a little bit. Don't let Kevin give you too much of a hard time."
Kenny smiles back at her and nods, and with that she shuts the door behind her.
As weird as it is to think after today, Kenny thinks things might actually end up being a little… okay.
Hi everyone, I'm really sorry for the wait. I can't promise speedier updates, but I do promise that I'm going to finish this story! I have not abandoned it.
Chapter title is from the same song Kenny sings: Skid Row, from the musical Little Shop of Horror's
