Chapter Text
Kenny was still thinking about Butters come nightfall.
He said he was expecting his parents to bring home a preacher to have a talk with him after recent incidents. A preacher.
Besides the obvious overkill, Kenny knew well enough that the Stotch household was the sort of family where even the idea of sin was enough to make them blush. Bringing over Father Maxi was just his parent’s lame idea of startling him into submission, and quite frankly, he found it insulting.
Butters was outgrowing their traditional value bullshit, and eventually the length of rope around his neck would wear thin from struggle. Father Maxi wouldn’t scare him, Kenny was sure. If anything, it would only serve to empower the ambition he’d seen in the other boy’s eyes—a glowing blue flame of fire.
He knew that Butters could handle himself. That a preacher wasn’t enough to make him retreat in the way it might have a year ago. But he couldn’t deny the gnaw of concern in his chest once the lights were out in his own house, with Karen fast asleep and his parents holed up in their pig-pen of a bedroom. In the stillness of his room, Kenny knew he was no good on his word.
Butters had advised that he didn’t risk sneaking out tonight, thanks to the extra edge his parents were living with after Father Maxi’s involvement in the ’incident.’ But Kenny had never exactly feared authority before, and he felt that Butters’ wellbeing was worth more than his own comfort tonight. That lingering sense of responsibility still lived beneath his skin, after all, and it wouldn’t shake until Butters was safely freed from that underlying noose.
Even still, he knew there were dangers beyond his own reputation should he get caught sneaking into the Stotch’s house. What would Butters’ parents do if they thought their son was purposefully sneaking Kenny into his room past dark? He couldn’t risk it again. Not when their security would be up to mock-ten, trust already stretched thin between them.
He couldn’t not check on him—it was a moral obligation at this point. But, at that same time, he couldn’t be himself either, should he screw up and get busted. That left him only one option, he thought, as he threw open his closet door to gaze upon what persona he should be that night.
It had been a while since he’d dawned his justice persona, and he supposed this was a case big enough for the concerns of Mysterion. He had a debt to keep all the good boys and girls of South Park safe, and Butters was certainly everything good in this town.
Kenny dressed himself in the familiar suit, pulling his hood over his head and hoping that the cape would be enough to keep him from freezing in the Colorado cold. The costume felt something like wearing another person’s skin given how long it had been. But there was a refreshing quality to the hood and cape, feeling almost heroic in this deed of his rather than just silly. With a mask like that taped over his freckled face, their scheme could be proven just. Like the genius innovation of an actual superhero fighting crime.
Pulling on his boots, Kenny made the climb twice over out his bedroom window, an air of mystery to his step as he walked the sidewalk. He clung to the shadow of night, scampering like a well-trained alley rat to the Stotch residence. The streets were just as empty as they had been nights ago, but he found himself extra on edge when playing this persona, looking out just in case he needed to jump into action.
Mysterion used to go on nighttime patrols back when Kenny had the spirit to drag himself to do it. But the habit had died sometime after the rest of their superhero personalities, and he felt just as unfulfilled as he had when they’d stopped wearing their silly suits and masks. After failing to learn the origin of his powers, he’d surrendered his superhero badge to the skeletons of his closet, along with just about every other outdated fad his friends had dragged him into.
The anonymousness felt nice after so long, a weight taken off his chest as he climbed Butters’ scaffolding with a subconscious ease, scaling the roof until he reached the window.
When he peeked inside this time, there was noticeably more light in the corner of the room than just the nightlight. And the more he craned his neck to try and get a better view, the more he could make out the shape of the occasional shadow moving against the far wall. So Butters was awake this time.
With that in mind, Kenny decided it was better to just announce his presence this time rather than suddenly barging in, lest Butters get frightened and alert his parents. So instead of sliding the window open with known ease, he brought his fist up to the surface to give a clatter of soft knocks.
In less than a minute, Butters was in his view, hesitantly approaching with a squint to his eyes. No doubt he was confused when the figure behind the glass wasn’t the easily recognizable Kenny in his bright orange parka, and so he slowed before rushing over to slide the window open.
Both palms on the surface, Butters pushed it up, a starry wideness in his eyes as his gaze raked over the figure of Mysterion rather than plain old Kenny. And, almost insultingly, he giggled to himself before any words could pass in greeting. He laughed and held his hands at the window seal, looking Mysterion over with a childlike wonder, almost tempted to poke and prod at the curious specimen before him.
“Kenny? Why’re you dressed like—”
But Kenny didn’t let those words finish, as he was quick to interrupt in that characteristic raspy voice. One that was so very different from his own, with its forced deepness and overly serious quality. Butters’ eyes only grew wider upon hearing it.
“Butters Stotch.” He greeted, decidedly staying in character despite the fact that Butters obviously knew it was him beneath the mask. He even used his full name, just to add to the immersion of a superhero arriving at his call.
Given the very real puffiness to Butters’ red eyes, Kenny thought he could maybe use the company of someone like Mysterion right now. A real guardian angel to shun away whatever troubles had been eating at him over the afternoon.
“You look upset.” He analyzed, still not making an effort to enter the room. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to impose himself on Butters’ bedroom, given the edge to the entire feel of the home. There was a stillness that made it eerily guarded, like even the lightest touch of his outsider foot would make the alarm bells sound. Plus, Butters wasn’t inviting him in from the cold, which was the biggest tell of just how in trouble he was.
The boy wasn’t wearing his pajamas like he had been the other night, either. Instead, he was dressed appallingly nice for this time of night—a fancy sweater with a button-down collar peeking out, and dress pants that dragged by his heels over mismatched socks. He looked like he was perfectly ready for church, and Kenny couldn’t possibly imagine why Butters would be dolled up as dressy as he was. The attire didn’t compliment the sadness in his eyes, but Kenny had no time to digest just how much the primness suited him.
Butters instinctively rubbed his hands over his eyes at the comment, looking away from Kenny’s masked, but intense eyes. He sniffled, an awkwardly dismissive noise leaving his lips.
“Yeah.” He agreed, biting at his lip to silence the shaky breaths leaving them.
“The Father Maxi visit did not go well.” He chuckled like it was funny, but the sound of it was so watery it came out as more of a sad pout.
Kenny tilted his head sympathetically, his brows still held firm as Mysterion, but a softness lingered behind his eyes.
“Your parents,” he addressed, “how are they?”
Butters knew what he meant, but still the question rendered him silent. He shifted on his feet, arms tucked up by his body in defense from the cold. Mysterion’s cape fluttered behind him from the winter wind, lapping at his own bitten form.
“What’dya wanna know about my parents for?” He asked, since he clearly didn’t want to talk about them. Kenny already understood the reason for the tears, it was written in that guilty way he held himself, like he was trying to hide sensitive information from Kenny and failing miserably. Obviously something had happened between now and when he’d said goodbye to him at the end of the school day, and Butters was an idiot if he seriously thought he wouldn’t pry until he figured out what it was.
“Because.” That gravely voice insisted, though it was hard to maintain it the more impatient he got.
“This is important, Butters. You told me–” He stopped himself, set on maintaining his superhero persona despite the fact that Butters obviously knew it was him. This would pay off in the end. Mostly because it was a distraction for the other boy to cling onto, the oddity of his friend showing up dressed as Mysterion, who he hadn’t seen in months.
“You can trust me. I’m a superhero.” Butters’ unsure expression wriggled across his lips, caught between hesitancy and a subconscious amusement. Kenny was treating this like one of their fantastical stories, playing detective to a domestic case rather than coming to Butters’ window like a helicopter parent. That, and he seemed to find the voice a little funny.
“Okay,” he breathed, fingers fidgeting by his middle. “My folks are…fine. My dad got super mad and he–” He cut himself off with a shuddery sigh. He looked like the tears might return to repaint his stained cheeks, and Kenny thought he got the gist as to why.
“Butters. Listen to me.” He reached out and planted a hand on Butters’ shoulder, firm and grounding. He’d played the superhero persona in front of Butters before, though usually that involved Professor Chaos and his disparagingly non-evil plans. Hell, he’d even kicked Butters’ ass before when they were both in costume.
But he still remembered their interactions from when Butters didn’t know who he was beneath the hood. As Professor Chaos, there had been genuine fear underlying his cocky persona, recoiling when Mysterion approached and dodging the hero’s retaliating advances. He knew Butters had looked up to his superhero self, admired his strength and been intimidated by his dark clothes and low tone, always flinching at Mysterion’s rehearsed one-liners.
To converse with him like this, in costume but receiving a very Butters look in turn, made his stomach feel a little funny. The admiration had yet to dissipate even when he recognized those features as Kenny’s, and it only encouraged him to keep up the act, despite himself.
When he could tell Butters was listening, still quivering with a feverish memory, but attentive nonetheless, Kenny continued.
“I…I’d like for you to come with me.” He requested, making a gesture toward the snowy night outside the window. Butters gasped, his eyes widening like saucers as he looked between Kenny and the world beyond.
“What?” He squeaked, the thought forbidden to a boy like him. To leave the house at night, breaking curfew and his grounding, but with a superhero no less? It sounded like a bad joke, yet coming from Mysterion, it was a genuine request.
“Come with me. Only for a little bit.” Kenny glanced at Butters’ bedroom door, relishing in the silence that rang out beyond it. “Your parents won’t even realize you’re gone. Promise.”
Butters looked utterly scandalized. Some exaggerated breaths escaped him and he turned away from Kenny at his window.
“I can’t!” He whisper-shouted, and that should’ve been obvious. Of course Butters would turn down the offer of sneaking out—the boy was probably too skittish to leave his room for even the bathroom after the events with Father Maxi. But Kenny was never one to give in too easy.
“They don’t have to know.” He insisted, slipping soundly onto the carpeted floor once Butters had actually paced away from him. He approached, cloak fluttering behind him in a ridiculous show surrounded by Butters’ childish posters and kids toys.
“It’ll help you clear your head.” He continued, “And we’ll be back before it gets too late.” He was sure he had a much different idea of “too late” than Butters did, but at this point he was just saying anything that he thought might work.
He knew that some fresh air would genuinely do Butters good. A change of scenery and decent company would help him calm down from whatever had him so frazzled. Kenny could only assume the worst given the fact that the kid hadn’t even tried to sleep yet, still dressed in his day clothes from bible practice. What was another hour or two in the grand scheme of breaking curfew?
“Kenny! Don’t…don’t tempt me. That’s immoral.” Kenny could’ve laughed at that kind of talk if he was donning his usual self, but he knew Mysterion wouldn’t take that sort of comment lying down. Instead, he continued to chase tail, following Butters at every step until the boy faced him again. He watched Butters’ throat bob as he swallowed a shaky breath, eyes flickering away from Kenny before they returned to watch the question mark above his head bounce at his every movement.
“What’s immoral is sicking a preacher on your son.” He corrected with a gruff scoff. He observed the doubt flickering across Butters’ face, making out the internal conflict that bubbled beneath the surface. He knew Butters wanted to go with him—hell, probably forever, if he could—but he was afraid to. That only served to make Kenny more frustrated, dying to know what had transpired in his absence, but knowing any prodding would only make Butters more skittish. What he needed was to get him out of this house, one way or another.
“Your parents don’t have to know.” He assured him. “And even if they find out…that helps your case, right?”
He was referring to the “Butters and Kenny” scheme of putting the groundings to an end. Butters bit his lip, working the idea beneath his teeth in the same way he was his mind.
“My dad–”
“I won’t let him hurt you.” He stepped closer to Butters, his inner Mysterion emerging triumphant over the usual sardonism of Kenny McCormick. He sounded dead serious, like he’d genuinely fight a grown man if he had to.
Then, in a more thoughtful tone: “You’re safe with me, Butters.”
Butters just stared at him silently for an uncomfortably long minute before jolting away from Kenny, stumbling further into his bedroom as if looking for something.
“O-okay.” He agreed, already digging through his closet until he pulled out his winter jacket, yanking it on clumsily while he stepped into his boots.
“I’m comin’, just–” He laced his shoes, nearly toppling over as he did so, catching himself against his nightstand at the last moment. He shot Kenny a wide-eyed look, something stirring beneath them that made Kenny feel like a prey animal.
“You gotta swear we’ll be back soon. I’ve got confession in the morning!” Kenny rolled his eyes under his hood, but gave Butters a firm, reassuring nod. There would be no point in taking the kid out if he was going to spend the entire time stressing about his parents.
“I swear.” He grumbled, annoyed by how un-Mysterion Butters’ childish ideas of pinky promises and faithful vows were.
Zipping his coat, Butters followed Kenny to where he was already making his way back out of his bedroom window. He still looked unsure—forehead creased with an anxious frown—but he tailed after the hero with a dutiful amount of insistence.
When Kenny had fully settled himself onto the ledge beneath Butters’ window, he stuck an arm back into the overwhelmingly warm bedroom to offer Butters his hand. Even if he may have grown accustomed to jumping roofs and climbing up gutters, he knew Butters most likely would be as agile as a newborn calf.
The other boy took his hand gratefully, sliding himself over the ledge one leg at a time until he was sat entirely on the shiplap of his roof. He’d never seen this view before, and he stared in quiet astonishment as Kenny shut the window behind them.
“Careful,” Kenny warned, grabbing tightly onto Butters’ wrist once more. He wouldn’t want him to fall during one of his own stupid misadventures, lest the Stotch’s sue him for both manslaughter and defamation.
Butters didn’t mind the caution, following Kenny’s lead hesitantly until they reached the edge of the roofing, where Kenny would usually climb himself back down using the drainpipe along the side of the house. With another encouraging word, he demonstrated how to get down by slowly lowering himself using it, feet landing lightly in the packed snow painting the lawn.
Butters peeked down at him with a nervous grimace, the height appearing to intimidate him now that he was actually ready to take the leap of faith.
“Oh, I dunno, Ken.” He straightened up at the accidental name-dropping, giving Kenny an apologetic shrug. “I don’t think I should. What if I fall?”
It was a very real possibility, considering who the ninja in question here was. But Kenny didn’t say that. Instead, he cupped his hands around his mouth, calling back up to him.
“I’ll catch you.” He absolutely wouldn’t be able to do that even if he tried. Butters had at least a good 15 pounds on him, and Kenny wasn’t exactly the brawniest kid even if he could fend for himself decently well. Butters would be better off leaping headfirst into the snowbank than into his arms, but Kenny thought either would be survivable given the height of the snowbanks lining the lawn.
When that didn’t convince Butters, he added: “And there’s snow. Lots of it.”
Kenny sighed, stepping a couple feet back to give Butters a sense of time. It was freezing just standing around, and Kenny wasn’t trying to have the cops called on him for loitering while wearing a superhero costume.
Butters sat there for some time, occasionally inching towards the edge before shrinking back. But eventually he mustered the courage and lowered himself down clumsily onto the drainpipe, feet bracing the siding of his house. He managed to do it right halfway down, until he lost his grip against the icy pipe and fell backwards into the snow with a yelp.
Obviously unharmed, Kenny was giggling at him as he approached Butters’ shivering form in the snowbank. He sat up with a rub at his sore tailbone, moving to brush off all the snow littering his jacket and pants.
“Aw, hamburgers…” He groaned, shooting Kenny a pathetic look.
Kenny helped him situate himself as he stumbled back to his feet, making sure he wasn’t going to topple back over again. With a guiding hand between Butters’ shoulderblades, he walked him to the sidewalk, putting as much distance between them and the windows of the Stotch’s residence as possible. He knew what would happen to Butters if he got caught sneaking out, and he didn’t want to be the one responsible if it came down to that.
“Come on, I have someplace I wanna take ya.”
Butters didn’t protest as Kenny led him to this secret spot of theirs. Even when the walk took a solid half hour to get to the other side of town—mostly because Butters kept stumbling in the snow and rambling about his parents—and when the frost bit at both their noses. Butters just continued to follow happily, looking equal parts relieved to be free from the same four wall of his bedroom, and anxious of what was to follow his sneaking out.
Nobody had to know, Kenny kept assuring him. Nobody would see them out here, he’d add. The only way his parents would discover he snuck out was if he told them, which he knew Butters wouldn’t.
Their walk took them to the outskirts of town, down past Kenny’s trailer on the other side of the tracks. He tried not to think about how silly they must look together—Butters all bundled up still dressed in his nice church clothes with Kenny suited up as Mysterion. The fact that they were completely alone provided no comfort as he led Butters to a familiar destination. He used to come here all the time, and even though it had been a while, he knew the route like the back of his hand.
He had to, after all, with Butters’ eager eyes on him.
“Hey, Ken—er, Mysterion? Ain’t this–”
Kenny didn’t let him finish, he interrupted the question with a curt nod. He figured Butters would recognize at least the location of the place even if he had never been here himself. There wasn’t much back here besides the real desperate degenerates of South Park, and even they were tucked into their cardboard boxes by now.
The sign greeted them as they approached, becoming legible in the dark the closer they got. South Parks’ one and only junk yard.
“Woah.” Butters muttered as soon as they were through the gate, having snuck past the slightly ajar entrance. Sometimes it pays to be ten years old and tiny.
“You ever been out here before?” Kenny asked, already knowing the answer. The astonishment flickering in Butters’ wide, blue eyes was indicative enough of how unique an experience this was to him. Of course this perfect little prairie boy had never stepped foot in a junk yard. What use could trash serve him?
“No.” His voice was a breathy sigh, puffing out a cloud from his lips due to the below zero weather. There was something innocent in how the cold accentuated Butters’ features, making his cheeks all rosy and dotting snowflakes in his blonde eyelashes. Kenny felt jealousy twist in his chest. Not only had Butters never been made to dumpster dive, he also had the face of a goddamned angel.
“I didn’t…well. I forgot this was out here.” He admitted, head whipping around to take in the scenery while Kenny led them further in the lot.
The place was old and poorly attended to. A lot of the actual junk had been sitting there since the 70s, totalling a decent amount of old, broken cars and appliances strewn about the piles. It smelled of something distinctly metal in the air, and as far as the eye could see were reminders of abandonment and ruin.
“I never realized a junk yard could have so much stuff.” He admitted, eyes drawn to the mass amounts of eclectic memories as well as actual junk. A fridge lay forgotten on its side right next to a shopping cart, with an antique vanity just across the way.
Kenny had always found this place comforting. Not only was it a haven for a kid like him to scavenge for old toys, but there was so much substance to a collective hive like this. Nearly every person in South Park contributed something to the yard, and it showed what with how neglected it’d been lately.
“You come here often, Ken?”
He asked, looking to meet Kenny’s eyes now as they settled into a corner of the yard.
“Not anymore.” He admitted, shuffling until he was sitting on the hood of some old Chevvy. Butters joined him with the slightest bit more hesitancy.
“I used to a ‘couple nights a week.” He crossed his arms, tucking them to his chest to conserve heat. “Would take Karen after school every now and then, just to get her out of the house.”
He watched as Butters scooched the slightest bit closer, cold and trying to supply some warmth between them. He didn’t say a thing as he did, even when their shoulders bumped together, looking up at Kenny curiously as he continued with his story.
“One time, she found a whole dollhouse. I had to spray it down in the yard, but when I was done…” He whistled, making a gesture with his hands. “My parents didn’t even notice. Just snuck it through the back and they were none the wiser.”
Butters was watching him with genuine interest, a small smile on his lips as he listened. It made Kenny feel briefly uncomfortable, but he was slowly growing accustomed to the horrifying sweetness the other boy displayed. He wasn’t used to anyone caring so much about his sob story of a life, and to see Butters nod along made the saliva feel thick in his throat.
“You’re a real good brother, Kenny.” He complimented, not seeming to register just how insane a thing that was to hear for Kenny. It just rolled off his tongue easy as any other turn of phrase, paralyzing Kenny with the weight of being so blunt.
So instead of taking the praise for what it was, he scoffed. He didn’t know what to do with nice. Nice wasn’t in his vocabulary of how the other kids addressed him.
“It’s not like that.” He deflected, but Butters didn’t let him.
“But you are! Anybody could tell ya that much!” He looked serious now, leaning closer as he shook his head, voice growing comedically stern. “Karen loves you a whole lot. It’s sweet how she’s always runnin’ to ya. Like you’re her mom, or somethin’!”
Kenny nearly choked on his own spit at that, Butters’ enthusiasm capable of drowning a man. It was endearing, at the very least.
“I ain’t anybody’s mom,” he refuted with a laugh. Though, the mental image was funny enough to forgive Butters for putting that idea in his head. He’d be a terrible dad, nonetheless someone’s mother. Not that it was hard to beat his own in that race.
“Well, ‘course not.” Butters agreed. “But you are her older brother. And a really good one at that.” He paused, looking out at the rest of the junk yard, cloaked in nightfall, as his thoughts continued to turn the cogs in his brain. There was a distinct mist falling over the town and it made the moment feel even more dreamlike than it already did.
“You know…” Butters began, his legs swinging absentmindedly from where his knees buckled the car’s hood. “You’re not…well, I know we haven’t spent much time together like this before, and…”
He sighed, struggling to articulate what he wanted to say. Kenny was patient to hear him out, though he could feel a sense of dread creeping up his neck, only making him feel even colder beneath the thin veil of his cloak.
“You aren’t what I thought you’d be like.” Butters admitted, trying to make out the whites of Kenny's eyes from beneath the shadow of his hood. Which was funny, because Kenny was doing everything in his power to avoid the softness of Butters’ face right now.
When Kenny didn’t respond, he kept going, voice just as unsure as when he started.
“I mean, ‘course I know ya. But you usually don’t say much around the other guys. An’ I always took ya for the rough-and-tumble type cause of how much trouble you’re always gettin’ into.” He sighed, fingers fidgeting with the silver emblem stuck to the car's hood, tracing the digits with slow motions.
“Guess I just think you’re neat, is all.”
Kenny could feel his heartbeat in his ears, holding his breath up until Butters looked resigned from the topic entirely. Neat. Butters had called him neat. Not dirty, or poor, or god forbid some other normal compliment that he could brush off. He’d gone and said something stupid, and now Kenny was feeling far too warm even with the incoming snowfall.
Instead of saying something sweet in turn, or even accepting the praise for what it was, Kenny leaned back against his hands, still not meeting Butters’ eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, voice rough and grainy. Though there was a distinct shakiness to it unbecoming of a superhero’s unwavering wit.
“We’ve hardly met.”
Butters was silent, stupified by the edginess of the response before he realized what it was Kenny meant. It appeared, even still, that he wasn’t talking to freckle-faced, parka-wearing Kenny, but rather the town vigilante, Mysterion. Kenny expected the other boy to be a bit peeved by his dismissal, but he didn’t pout or complain. Instead, a loud laugh interrupted the stillness of the junk yard, as Butters let himself fall backwards flat onto the hood of the car.
He braced his stomach, giggling to himself until the laughter turned to wet tears streaming from the corners of his eyes, threatening to become icicles as the wind picked up.
“You’re so silly.” He murmured affectionately, letting Kenny get away with playing coy.
He wriggled against the flat of the hood, tucking his hands into his jacket’s pockets and casting his gaze up at the dark figure of Mysterion’s costume. He was still smiling far too happily, addressing Kenny with a giddy eagerness to be in on this joke.
“Well, next time ya see Kenny, tell him I think he’s neat, would you?” He asked, that friendly gleam in his eye enough to make Kenny feel positively stupid.
Butters didn’t even realize how genuine he was, and that only made his approval that much more sincere. Somehow it meant more knowing that the sugary words leaving his mouth were little more than the impulsive thoughts floating around his in his mind. Like an impulse thrumming around in that sweet gooeyness which couldn’t be denied even if he had the sense to realize how ridiculous it was to call Kenny McCormick neat.
“Yeah.” Kenny agreed softly, the word leaving him after a pause so hefty, it hardly felt of the same dimension now.
Once the numbness in his chest had subsized—tingly and warm against the winter cold—he allowed himself to lay back against the hood of the car as well. For a moment, he could feel the chill of the car’s surface bleed through the layers of his clothes, but it disappeared soon enough as he got comfortable. Butters acknowledged his compliance to the position with a happy hum, gazing up at the stars with a contentness foreign on him just hours ago.
It felt…nice being able to help Butters like this. More than just for entertainment, Kenny knew the gentleness in his patience was beyond anything Butters was used to. And it paid off, because Kenny had never seen him look so soft. So utterly blissed out under the darkened moonlight, the tension in his shoulders gone just for the night.
Kenny hadn’t known it, but by the time he had something he wanted to say to Butters, he realized he was already looking at him.
“Butters?” He asked, noticing only after the tender word had already slipped from him that he’d forgotten to disguise it with his Mysterion voice.
Internally kicking himself, he continued after Butters’ curious gaze found his own, that small smile having never left his face.
“Hm?”
He swallowed, tongue feeling dry. And with the Mysterion voice this time: “I just…you should know that Kenny thinks you’re pretty cool, too.”
He offered, very pleased that the other boys weren’t here to witness this clumsy exchange. For what it was worth, his stupid attempt at a compliment earned a wide beam from Butters, who smiled so hard he giggled.
“Mmm, thanks Mr. Mysterion.” The name was absurdly kind coming from him, much different from the tone of Professor Chaos when he uttered it. Now, with the beautiful scenery of actual garbage surrounding them, it sounded…good. Right.
Kenny rolled onto his side until he was stumbling to his feet, wandering somewhere further away from Butters and his sweet smiles. Instead, he opted to mosey around the cleared lot the car faced, kicking at rocks or the occasional can in his path. He could hear Butters sit up from behind him—the squeak of polyester jacket against rusted metal—but he didn’t turn to face him.
Instead, he kept his spine a straight line, befitting of a superhero and completely antagonistic of his usual uncaring personality. He tucked his arms up close to him, breathing out a stream of whispering fog from between his lips.
“You remind me of her.” He said to the darkness, though Butters knew the words were meant for him.
“Hm?” Butters hummed, propped up onto his elbows and trying, desperately, to make out every detail of Kenny’s costume against the night stars.
“Karen.” He clarified. “You’re a lot like her.”
Butters was quiet for a long beat, but when he did respond, it made Kenny’s jaw click shut, smothering the clattering his teeth had been singing to.
“You think I’m like your sister?” Butters raised a brow to himself, thinking. “Does that make me like your brother?”
Kenny whirled around, a gruff scoff escaping him before he could question the defensiveness in it.
“What? No!” He argued, as if the idea was completely stupid. Which it was. Beyond the sheer wrongness it suggested, it was just plain weird when they were pretending to be some sort of couple.
“That ain’t what I meant.” He clarified, watching Butters nod with a slow expression on his face. Mouth agape as if he’d been cut short, he clumsily pulled himself completely upright where he sat still on the hood of the car. Kenny’s inward frustration only grew.
“I just mean…you’re soft like her. You ain’t like other kids.”
“Yeah.” Butters agreed, looking suddenly uncomfortable.
He watched as Kenny kicked another can, this time hard enough to send it spiraling until it hit the edge of some old recliner, bouncing off to join another trash pile.
“The guys say that kinda stuff all the time.” He reminded Kenny, making the boy's stomach pull uncomfortably. He was well aware that the other boys picked on Butters for his sensitivities, not that he necessarily blamed them. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he was always being humble and kind. The other guys their age would sooner sock each other across the face than they would pay one another a compliment.
“My dad says I oughta toughen up if I want them to stop.” Those words caused a silent shift in the air, Kenny suddenly freezing where he stood.
“That’s stupid,” he chimed in, repulsion thick in his voice. He wasn’t used to biting his tongue quite as hard as he had to now, but he knew that a character such as Mysterion wouldn’t be as prone to anger as he was. And so, the hard but subtle approach was his best option here.
“Maybe,” Butters offered. “But I don’t think he’s wrong.”
Perhaps not. That was the worst part about Stephen Stotch and his fucked up ideas of masculinity. Of course he wouldn’t be wrong in saying that Butters would be better off if he just hardened up like the rest of them, but didn’t make it some grand solution. Especially when it required Butters to abstract a part of himself just to obey the norm. That softness was worth protecting even still, no matter how it ostracized him among a society of cowards.
Yet another reminder of why they were doing what they were doing.
“Your dad is a hypocritical prick, and to think otherwise is a bigger compliment than he deserves.” Kenny interrupted, firm and unrelenting. He could feel Butters staring at him—blinking with those big blue eyes—but he didn’t argue.
“Bein’ soft ain’t bad, Butters. Just means you’ve got the guts to be nice.” He looked down at his feet where they scuffed at the dirt, a gentle bend to his brows that made him feel vulnerable to the exposure of the moonlight. “‘N that’s much harder than being mean.”
Butters was watching him with this impending sense of innocence. It was almost threatening how earnest it felt, and Kenny could swear the twinkle in his eye set a spark seething at his skin. Like every freckle had become a landmine under that electric gaze.
“Is that what you do as a superhero?” Butters asked him, head tilted curiously as an inquisitive kitten. And with the tired give to his body, Kenny almost could’ve sworn he heard him mewl. “Kill ‘em with kindness?”
Kenny scoffed, but he appreciated the honesty beneath that incredibly naive question.
“Nah. Not quite.” He responded, letting the inquiry roll off his back like a lick of wind to his cloak. Butters said the damndest things when he got tired, and Kenny had a habit of remembering that during their late-night chats.
“But that’s different. A superhero’s gotta protect the weak. Can’t do that if I’m goin’ all ‘power of friendship’’ on ‘em, now can I?”
Butters smiled at him, finding the scenario amusing. He played along, shaking his head a firm “no” with that dopey grin, feet still kicking over the edge of the car.
“I guess not,” he agreed, smile still fattening those rosy cheeks. His head tilted up, his eyes fixed on Kenny’s every movement. He could feel them boring into him, a sparkling silver under the moonlight’s shallow shade.
“So is that what you’re doin’ right now? Protectin’ me?” The question felt a little silly, and Kenny could tell he thought so too with the way his voice trailed off at the end. But it wasn’t a completely ridiculous thought, given Kenny’s subconscious decision to show up tonight dressed like South Park’s resident hero. This was anything but casual attire.
He hummed, acknowledging but unsure. “Nah. Just…keeping you company.”
Butters watched his cloak flutter for a minute, the snowflakes beginning to fall in bigger clusters now, confetti in the sky.
“I like that.” He said softly. Company was a delicate word, but it was warm and familiar, too. Not patronizing. Not sharp.
“We should do this more often.” He suggested, standing from his seat on the car hood and approaching Kenny slowly, hands buried in his pockets. His ears were a violent shade of red, face flushed and nose running.
“Just maybe without the spandex next time.” He teased, making a gesture towards Kenny’s attire even through the bundle of his jacket. “I kinda miss the ol’ parka.”
“Pfft.” Kenny laughed in response. It was hard to imagine anyone missing his ratty parka, even a kid as sentimental as Butters. He stepped closer to Butters, a hidden smile on his face as he reached both hands out to either side of Butters’ face.
“Don’t talk nonsense.” He miffed, smile turning mischievous. Butters watched him curiously, snow falling over the bridge of his nose to the curve of his brows until Kenny abruptly yanked his hood over his head.
He let out a startled gasp when Kenny did, swatting his hands away with a breathy laugh. “Kenny!” He protested, but Kenny was already walking away by the time he got his bearings.
“You’ll catch a cold.” Kenny warned in that Mysterion voice, effortlessly cool even if he was just a scrawny kid shivering beneath that disguise.
Butters followed him eagerly, forgiving Kenny’s earlier stunt with the drop of a hat. He jogged until he met Kenny’s pace, adjusting his hood so that it sat properly over his head, shielding him from the incoming snow. Even if it had been a jerk move, the extra layer did something to soothe the ache in Butters’ cold ears, and he nestled into it subconsciously.
“We goin’ back already?” He asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice. Kenny could tell that Butters was hesitant to return given the tension still alive and well within the walls of his home. But the snow was getting heavier and they were both only growing colder.
“The snow’s getting worse,” Kenny pointed out. “We should get back before it’s too late.”
“Aw.” Butters allowed himself a brief moment to pout before he nodded in compliance, following Kenny out of the junkyard with the same level of intrigue as when they’d arrived.
It was no wonder Butters was so quick to tolerate Kenny’s trashy lifestyle—he quite literally took a fondness to actual garbage. Everything was buried treasure to him, mysterious and forbidden, but curious all the same. Kenny had always thought him naive, but perhaps the better word for it was optimistic. Butters actually had a shred of hope left in that small body of his, unlike everyone else born and nursed on South Park bullshit.
When they arrived back at the Stotch household, Kenny had to stake out the entire bottom floor until he found an unlocked window for Butters to crawl through. Not only was Butters not agile enough to climb up the scaffolding normally, his body was also frozen rigid by the time they made it home. He managed to slip himself through the first floor bathroom window, quiet enough to not alert his sleeping parents when he accidentally slipped getting down.
“You got it?” Kenny asked, finally letting go of the brace he had on Butters’ arm once he seemed stable enough to balance on the lid of the toilet seat he’d stepped onto. Butters gave him a shaky nod, letting out a sigh of relief once he’d managed to crawl to the warmth of central heating.
“Yeah,” he met Kenny’s eyes through the opened window, bracing both hands on the back of the toilet and kneeling attentively on the lid of it. Kenny thought he looked funny then, perched backwards in a pitch black bathroom, but he contained his laugh.
“Did ya need to come inside, Ken? It’s awfully cold out there.” He offered, even if it was just to thaw out on the floor of their guest bathroom for a minute.
Kenny should’ve said yes for his own sake, but he didn’t want to cause Butters any problems in case their sneaky attempt at getting him back home had secretly caused a stir. He shook his head, ignoring the way his hands trembled where they held the window seal, trying to absorb as much of that indoor heat as he could.
“No. I’ll be alright. It’s not that far a walk.” He lied. Butters didn’t appear to believe him, his brows creasing with concern and his shoulders rounding out with what looked to be disappointment.
“Yeah it is.” He insisted, suddenly shifting on the lid as he began shrugging his coat from off his shoulders.
“Here, at least take my coat for the way back. It’s real warm, and—”
Kenny refused before Butters could even finish.
“I’m fine, really.”
Butters didn’t retract his offering hand. If anything, he shoved it more firmly at Kenny, pushing it out the window now, that familiar stubborn expression bringing a frown to his lips.
“Butters.” Kenny tried to sound firm, commanding even, but it landed somewhere closer to hesitancy. “Mysterion doesn’t do jackets.”
Butters rolled his eyes at that, for once unimpressed by Kenny’s lame sense of humor. He didn’t relent in handing over his jacket, giving it a tempting shake and an even more tempting flutter of his eyelashes.
“Maybe not, but I’ll bet he does get sick.” When Kenny didn’t have a smart retort, Butters tried a more gentle approach at getting Kenny to accept his coat. Sighing, he grabbed one of Kenny’s arms with his free hand and draped the jacket over it.
“Please, Ken. That ain’t even my usual one. I’ll be okay.” He smiled at him then, relishing in the way Kenny’s free hand came up to cradle the plush fabric. “And I know it’ll be in good hands.”
There was a lingering quiet that felt like something between acceptance and appreciation. Kenny just stared at him from outside, numb to the way the snow was bleeding through his boots and weighing down his hood. It was the most expressionless Butters had ever seen him, and that in itself was an impressive feat for the usually smug Kenny.
“Well…goodnight, Mr. Mysterion.” He offered politely, a hint of teasing in the way he said Myterion’s name, but it was sincere enough to still be sugary sweet. The words seemed to jerk Kenny out of his trance, and he quickly returned it with a small nod of his own.
“Yeah. Night, Butters.” He muttered, preparing for Butters to shut the window on him so that he could begin his walk home. But Butters’ fingers delayed in sliding the window closed, pausing where they rested on the glass.
Instead of closing Kenny out, he lurched forward to ensnare Kenny in a brief, warm hug. It was hardly long enough to mentally process, but Kenny could still feel the way Butters’ arms had wrapped around his shoulders even after he’d pulled away and forced the window shut.
Kenny stood there long after Butters had clambered off the toilet seat lid, wandering somewhere beyond the spare bathroom to return to bed. He was still there up until a cold chill wracked through his body involuntarily, prompting him to haphazardly pull on the jacket Butters had so kindly lent him.
Zipping it closed under his cloak, Kenny’s entire core felt filled with the same warmth Butters’ arms had exposed his neck to. Something fiery in the midst of the incoming snow. Kenny wasn’t sure how he would’ve survived the walk home without it, considering shivers were overtaking his body come the time he’d made it across the tracks. Pulling himself through his bedroom window, he plopped down onto his bed like a suicidal fish, given up to the torment of land.
Some time went by before he forced himself to remove his Mysterion costume, lest his parents barge in and discover his secret identity all this time later. But even after he’d redressed himself, his eyes wandered to Butters’ blue coat. He was just tired enough that he didn’t question himself when the urge possessed him. He tugged the coat over his pajamas without a second thought, climbing under the thin covers of his bed and forcing the hood over his eyes.
It smelled like him. Something distinctly clean, either laundry soap or fabric softener. Clean and well kept, just like the boy himself. Kenny inhaled deeply, drowning himself in the freshness until he drifted into a dreamless sleep, paying no mind to the thumping rush of adrenaline still in his veins.