A/N: Just an idea that demanded to be written while struggling with a severe case of writer's block. I haven't abandoned Future Imperfect. Re: This story: Warnings for angst and mature themes including prostitution, sexual situations, and thoughts of self-harm, and I own none of this. Cover image by KevinAF123, used with permission and there's a link to the full-size picture on my profile page.

Butters slowed his car to a stop alongside the curb between the rows of warehouses and self-storage places, looking nervously in the rearview mirror at the flashing red and blue police car lights a block over reflecting off the deserted buildings. The Denver cops were harassing the rentboys again, and this was a dangerous night to be out here, doing what he was doing.

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring straight ahead now, trying to make his peripheral vision meet behind the back of his head. His heart was pounding, and he knew he shouldn't be here, he should be home cleaning something, or cooking, or studying for his CPA license.

Only one thing gave him the confidence to stay: He had the ultimate power over his fate tonight. He would either get what he wanted…or he would go home alone again. It was the third possibility, that he would get something else tonight that he wanted to a lesser degree but knew was inevitable, that gave him the courage to remain here despite the danger of being arrested…or worse.

He fingered the pill bottle in his shirt pocket, drawing what he recognized was a twisted feeling of comfort from it. His 25th birthday was in two weeks, and he'd been saving up for it for almost half a year: Eighty of his own prescription Ambien sleeping pills, plus an assortment of psychiatric and pain meds he'd been slowly accumulating by swiping them from his mother, two or three every week, over the past six months. The bottle had become so stuffed full of pills it wouldn't make a sound if he tried to rattle it. He figured those, plus as much of the fifth of vodka as he could gulp down from the unopened bottle next to him should do the trick. A couple mouthfuls of what would feel like gravel going down his throat followed by a few gulps of liquor would be nothing when put alongside what he lived with every day. He'd already accepted the fact that if a cop tried to detain him while he was here tonight, he would move his 'celebration' up to right now. Fuck it.

Butters had already turned down the approaches of two young men earlier this evening, both of whom he considered and then dismissed as 'rough trade' and not what he was seeking. He wished he could find that nice Japanese fella again, Kim-something; he had almost been able to give Butters what he needed their one night together some three months ago. Butters had paid him handsomely, bought him a nice breakfast the next morning, and asked to see him again.

Which of course had never happened.

A siren split the silence as the cop car a block over suddenly roared off in pursuit of someone or something. The flashing lights behind him vanished, and then the police cruiser roared through the intersection up ahead a block away and disappeared around another row of warehouses, tires squealing and red and blue flashers strobe lighting the night. Butters breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it might be best just to go home to his apartment and lie in bed and try to sleep.

Maybe he could spare a single pill from his growing collection to help him sleep tonight. The idea of splurging on himself troubled him though. He didn't deserve it.

He was about to turn the ignition key and drive away from this awful place when someone slipped from the shadows between two buildings and approached the passenger side of his car. His hand on the key hesitated, not quite ready to give up yet, while he studied the approaching figure. He had absolutely nothing to lose. Whoever was coming toward his car was very slender, and despite the fact that his face was mostly hidden behind the hood of a parka, somehow he seemed nonthreatening, perhaps nice even. Maybe nice enough to talk with for a few minutes at least.

Butters already knew all his car doors were locked. He reached over to his door and pressed a button to lower the passenger window a few inches. The person stopped just outside the car, pulled his hood off and looked in the window. Both of their eyes flew open at the same moment as they recognized each other. Butters spoke first.

"Ken…Kenny McCormick?"

His once friend and former classmate's face split into a huge grin. "Butters mother fucking Stotch! Holy shit, dude…what…are you out here slumming or something?"

Butters was torn between wanting to start his car and speed away as fast as he could from this, and…and not doing that yet. He hadn't seen his old friend Kenny in almost five years, yet his face still looked almost exactly the same. Shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be here…echoed over and over, as his hand slowly left the key and found its way to his lap. He knew there was a huge potential for humiliation here, one he might not possibly be able to live down (but there was always the pill bottle) and as well a chance that this might just be okay.

Another police car that neither of them saw coming shot through the intersection at a high rate of speed. Kenny looked away for a moment, then turned back and said somewhat urgently, "Hey man, can I get in your car and we get out of here? It's kind of fucked up here tonight, and maybe you could drop me off a few blocks away?"

Butters only hesitated a moment, then thumbed the button that unlocked the passenger door of his car. The lock opened, ca-chunk. Kenny opened the door immediately, sat down heavily in the passenger seat and slammed the door again, curling his long legs and wrapping his arms around his knees as if he were cold. The vodka bottle clanked against the center console. Butters' car started instantly, and he slowly pulled ahead and turned the vehicle around and headed toward the lights of downtown, both of them looking out the windows nervously.

A minute later they were out of danger and were driving down the main road, the neon signs of fast food places and gas stations passing by on both sides. Butters drove a few blocks in the direction of home and then abruptly pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store and turned his car off again. He sat quietly, staring at the dark dashboard display.

"Fuck, Butters!" Kenny said happily, excited to see his old friend again and happy to be in a warm and safe place. "Where do we even begin to get caught up right now? I'm fine, cooking and washing dishes at the Olive Garden and supplementing my income by night…" He trailed off as he noticed Butters wasn't sharing his enthusiasm. After an awkward moment, he added more quietly: "So…are you looking for something tonight? Or, uh, should I just get out now?"

Kenny expected Butters to at least think about the question for a few seconds, but instead he just shook his head. "No. No, Ken…I-I'd like it if you'd stay."

He looked so nervous and out of place here. Kenny reminded himself that this was, after all, one of his oldest friends, and put his hand over Butters' forearm.

"Okay." His thumb caressed the thin wrist. "I'll stay." He smiled and his grip loosened but he kept his hand there. "So…you are looking for something?"

The question lingered in the air for a long moment. Butters finally turned to look at him. "You…you're for sale, Kenny?" He looked frightened that Kenny might have been offended. "I mean…oh geez…I didn't mean it that way…"

Kenny just smiled. It was, after all, a perfectly legitimate question, and he had just given Kenny a ride out of Denver's most renowned rentboy district. There could only be one reason why Butters had been there at almost two in the morning.

"Geez, Butters, just relax, okay?" He carefully squeezed Butters' forearm again, hoping it felt comforting. "You have the right to ask." His fingers wandered, caressing the back of Butters' hand. "I appreciate the ride out of there, and if you want to hook up tonight, I think we could have some fun together."

Butters' uncomfortable silence made Kenny aware that he hadn't actually answered his question.

"Well, so yeah…I guess I am for sale." Kenny looked around himself, at Butters' nice almost new car, taking a long look at the unopened bottle of vodka on the seat next to him. "Or for rent anyway."

"You'll do whatever I want Ken?" He was pleading, rather than negotiating. "Stay the rest of the night with me?" Butters asked, looking hopefully at him now. It was that same hopeful look he had all through school, and it was a look Kenny remembered well.

"Well, dude…it's almost two o'clock in the morning. I usually charge about two hundred bucks if someone wants to spend the whole night with me…but since it's so late…"

"Two hundred dollars?" Butters interrupted. "And you'll come home with me, and…and do whatever I want?"

"Yeah." Kenny was delighted by how this evening was turning out.

Butters reached under his seat for his wallet and rifled through it, pulling out ten twenty dollar bills and handing them over. Kenny took the money from Butters' hands and looked up at him, his face lit by the glow from the streetlights around them. His smile was kind. He thrust the money into the pocket of his parka.

"Okay?" Butters' eyes had a new look in them, one that was both eager and sad somehow.

Kenny fingered the money in his pocket and nodded. Easiest two bills ever. "Sure." He cleared his throat. "I'm all yours for the night, I guess. Where to?"

Butters started his car again and drove off, and after a few miles pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex. Kenny looked around admiringly. This place seemed fairly upscale; Butters must be doing all right for himself. This could become a regular thing, and there were far more disagreeable people in the world than Butters to make that sort of arrangement with.

They climbed out of the car, Butters using his key fob to lock his car as they walked toward the main entrance of the building. He led the way down the hall and opened his door into a large and impeccably clean apartment, the TV in the living room showing an old black and white movie with the sound muted. Kenny walked inside and sat down on the couch.

"This is a nice place, Butters," Kenny said, looking around at the large flat screen TV, the leather furniture, the completely bare walls.

Butters stood beside him for a moment, looking uncertain. "Thank you." He looked like he wanted to sit down for a moment and was debating with himself whether he was going to or not. "Do you want something to eat, Ken?" he finally asked. "I can make us a couple sandwiches."

Just like when we were in school, Kenny thought. Well, why not? He actually was hungry, and Butters had already given him two hundred bucks without so much as blinking.

"Sure; I could eat a sandwich. Ah, thanks."

Butters nodded and walked into his kitchen, opened his fridge and pulled out a loaf of bread, luncheon meat, and assorted condiments and set to work. He came into the living room a minute later carrying two plates and handed Kenny one of them and sat down on the couch next to him. He had made them two enormous sandwiches, and they ate in silence for a few moments, Kenny realizing he had been hungrier than he thought.

"So, what do you want to do, dude?" Kenny finally asked, putting his half-eaten sandwich back on the plate. "Your two hundred bucks will pay for just about anything…unless you want something really weird or something."

Butters looked down at the plate on his lap, willing himself not to knock his fists together. "I…I dunno, Kenny. Maybe what I want is sort of weird…" He fell silent.

Kenny knew he was nervous, and put what he again hoped was a reassuring hand over Butters' wrist. He'd dealt with a couple of first-timers before, but Butters seemed nervous for a different reason. He seemed about to speak, then clenched his lips shut tighter.

Kenny moved his hand up to Butters' shoulder to pull him closer and whispered against his cheek, "Just tell me, man." He smiled. "It's okay…some people are into some really strange shit." He wondered what Butters' kink was going to be, once he found the courage to voice it. A lot of things—water sports, humiliation, whipping—were going through Kenny's mind as possible answers. In hindsight, Kenny knew he should have expected the one he finally got.

"I…Kenny, I don't really want to have sex." He lowered his eyes. "I mean, kinky or otherwise. I—I …just want someone to cuddle with for a few hours, okay? I just want someone to make me feel like they care about me for a little while." He swallowed, hard. "That's all."

Kenny's eyes narrowed. Butters leaned over and put the side of his head against Kenny's chest, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer as if this would make it harder to turn down his request. He turned his head, burrowing his face into Kenny's sweatshirt. "You can do that for me…right, Ken?"

Kenny looked down at the blond scalp inches below his chin. The last time he'd held someone this way, it had been Karen when she was little, and the sounds of their parents' fighting in the next room had awoken her.

"Of course." Kenny put his arm around Butters and rocked him. "If that's what you want…sure."

They cuddled quietly for several minutes, Kenny still slowly rocking him. He thought Butters might even have fallen asleep, but then he said in a quiet monotone, "pretty pathetic, huh?"

Kenny rocked him a little harder. "No, man. Uh huh." He came to a sudden decision, one he hadn't even realized he'd been pondering. "If you just want to cuddle with me tonight, that's cool. But I need to talk to you for a minute first." He patted Butters' shoulder and then sat up straight, easing away from him.

Butters looked at him nervously. "Is something wrong, Ken?"

He reached down and took Butters' hand, lacing their fingers together. "No, nothing's wrong. It's just that…and this is going to sound sort of fucked up, but…I take pride in my work. Even if it's shitty work and I make part of my living letting old men suck my dick and whatever…at least I try to be nice to them about it. I take pride in doing a good job, you know?"

He squeezed Butters hand and then released it, reaching into his coat pocket for the money Butters had given him and setting it on the table. The pile of bills slowly uncurled.

"Dude, if I take your money just to cuddle with you, it's like I'm not being sincere about it, you know?" He took Butters' hand again. "I don't want your money to do that. What you can do instead is let me sleep here tonight, and buy me breakfast in the morning. Village Inn, all you can eat Sunday breakfast buffet. And maybe let me take a hot shower while I'm here. Would that be all right?"

Butters stared at the money on the table. He shook his head. "Kenny?...are you sure?"

"I'm not just sure; I'm HIV positive." Kenny said and laughed at the old joke; then, given the circumstances added: "Just kidding." He squeezed the hand he was holding. "So…do we have a deal?"

Butters squeezed back. "I—I guess so."

"Good" Kenny let go of Butters hand to reach up and hold him again. Butters settled with a contented sigh against Kenny's chest.

A few minutes went by, then Butters asked, "Do you want to…to go to my room?"

Kenny squeezed his shoulder. "Sounds like a wonderful plan." Butters smiled shyly at him and stood up. He led Kenny to the hall, past a door that was probably a second bedroom, past the open door of a bathroom that was as meticulously clean as the rest of the apartment, and into his bedroom. Kenny was surprised to see that the bed wasn't made, and the entire room was somewhat rumpled compared to the rest of the apartment. A laptop sat open on a crowded desk (a huge stack of manila folders alongside it that looked somehow work-related), a colorful screensaver playing across it.

"Nice room," Kenny said. "Nice to see a little clutter."

Butters smiled and picked a pair of pajamas up off the back of the office chair. "I-I'm going to go put these on. Do you want to borrow a pair?"

Kenny thought about the threadbare boxers he was currently wearing. Normally, he would just sleep in those (or nothing at all), but he suddenly found himself caring for once about the opinion of the person he was with.

"Sure. I'll wear a pair of your pajamas."

Butters beamed happily and pulled open a drawer on his dresser. "Help yourself to whatever you want. I'll be right back." Butters carried his pajamas from the room; Kenny heard the bathroom door close and the exhaust fan come on a moment later.

Kenny pulled out the first matching shirt and pants he spotted, a simple pair of light blue cotton pajamas. Ordinarily if this were a stranger's room, he'd also rifle through the rest of the drawers looking for anything he could pilfer, but instead he closed the drawer and waited for Butters to return. He heard the toilet flush, and a moment later Butters returned. Kenny couldn't help but grin at what he was wearing.

"Terrance and Phillip pajamas, Leopold?" He snickered. "I didn't even know they made those in adult sizes."

Butters looked down at his bare feet, his old habit of rubbing his fists together resurfacing. "Why, sure they do. Amazon dot com carries a whole line of their stuff."

"Well, it looks cute on you." Kenny smiled, walking around him and out the door. "I'll be right back."

As he'd expected, Butters' bathroom was spotless. Kenny raised the toilet seat, peed, flushed, lowered the seat again, and shed his clothes, threadbare boxers and all and put on the borrowed pajamas. They were at least a couple sizes too small and smelled faintly of fabric softener; Kenny liked the feeling of them against his skin.

He heard the central heat come on, and felt warm air wafting lightly past him. Butters' bed would be really warm too. This was one of the nicest places he'd spent the night in a long time.

He carelessly wadded his own clothes together and set them on the counter by the sink for morning. As he reached for the doorknob, he spotted Butters' clothes hanging neatly from a hook on the back of the door. The white cap of a pill bottle in the shirt pocket caught his eye. If it had been in the medicine cabinet, he wouldn't have touched it, but its location aroused his curiosity and he removed it from the pocket and twisted off the child-proof cap.

He recognized the Ambien immediately, and there were at least three other kinds of pills mixed in with them. Kenny remembered the bottle of vodka on the front seat, and instantly put two and two together.

Shit. He stared at the pills for a long moment, then made another decision and put the cap back on and returned the bottle of pills to its place in Butters' shirt pocket. He took one final look at himself in the mirror over the sink; the pajamas were an incongruous sight, the sleeves ending four inches above his knobby wrists. He opened the door and walked back into Butters' bedroom, fixing a smile on his face as he entered.

Butters was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking nervous and somehow fragile as he gazed down at the floor. Kenny walked over and sat down next to him, putting an arm over his shoulder.

"So," Kenny said, squeezing Butters' thin shoulder blade through the cotton fabric of the Terrance and Phillip pajama shirt. "Wanna lie down?"

Butters nodded, still looking downward. Kenny lay down on his back with his head on one of Butters' pillows, and Butters settled next to him with his head on Kenny's chest, one of his hands curling into a loose fist on the borrowed shirt.

"Is this okay?" Kenny whispered.

Butters wrapped his arm tighter around Kenny's chest. "It's wonderful, Ken."

They lay quietly for several minutes. Butters eventually seemed to grow restless, shifting around as if he were trying to get closer, pressing his face against the soft cotton beneath his cheek.

"You can do anything you want, you know," Kenny said. He'd forgotten for a moment that he'd given Butters' money back to him, and thought about how much it must mean to Butters that he'd had been happy to pay him $200 just to cuddle like this.

Butters reached up and unbuttoned the top two buttons of Kenny's pajama shirt and reached inside, pressing first his fingertips and then his face to the bare skin he'd uncovered. Kenny looked at the top of his head, nuzzling into the soft blond hair to kiss the scalp beneath it.

The extra skin contact seemed to be what Butters wanted, and he settled down quietly again. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Sure, dude." Kenny pushed one of his legs beneath the blanket, then bent his knee and pulling the blanket toward him with his foot. He reached for it with his free hand and pulled it up over them, placing the end of the blanket around Butters' narrow shoulder blades.

"Feel good?"

Butters nodded, and a few minutes passed. Kenny knew Butters was still awake.

"Dude…" Kenny finally asked. "Do you want to tell me what's going on with you? I mean, why are you cruising the warehouse district for someone to cuddle with you for money?"

He felt Butters tighten around him and realized he may have said the wrong thing.

"Too personal, huh?" Kenny asked and shook his head. "You don't have to answer that."

Butters sighed. "No…it's all right, I guess. It's…it's a long story, Ken. It's my life, my parents…my career…the future. I…There's all this…stuff I have to keep doing, and, and I…" His voice quieted to a whisper, and the fist lying on Kenny's chest became a claw, grasping desperately at his shirt. "I don't think I can do it anymore, y'know? I mean… "He stopped talking and sighed unhappily.

"Do…what, Butters?" Kenny asked. "I mean, this is a nice apartment. You have a really sweet car. It looks like you're doing okay for yourself, aren't you?"

"But that's just things, Ken." Butters' fingertips were rubbing at Kenny's borrowed pajama top obsessively. "And things don't…they don't…"

"They don't what?"

"They don't fix loneliness!" Butters said loudly, as if it was torn from him, despite his trying to hold it back. "I'm just—" he sniffed loudly. "So lonely, Kenny."

Kenny winced. "Oh…okay, shh, c'mere." Butters wasn't finished, and Kenny listened quietly as he continued.

"I mean…they've done experiments with baby monkeys, where they separated them from their mothers. One group only got fed, and the other group got fed, played with and interacted with." It was as though he was reciting something he'd once read and memorized. "The monkeys who were only fed all died; I…" His voice trailed off for a moment. "I think people can die from that much loneliness too."

Kenny was lost for words for a moment, finally coming up with, "Aww, dude. Is it really that bad? What about…you must have some friends-?"

"Friends!" Butters said angrily, fingers digging almost painfully. "You mean the people I went to school with? The people who all had successful careers in journalism and sports, a-and became doctors and businessmen, and—and made it out of this town and never looked back? People like you? Yeah, they all give a shit…" Butters was quickly becoming upset, and Kenny was afraid he might jump up and run from the room.

"Okay…okay, shh…"

"No one where I work really wants to be friends with the obviously gay guy." He took a deep breath and blurted angrily, "Y'know, I just asked you to do one thing: Cuddle with me. I didn't ask you to try to psychoanalyze me or anything."

"Okay, you're right." Kenny hoped he would be able to salvage this. "Hey man…let's just reset, all right?"

Butters nodded and seemed to settle again. "Okay." He sounded more resigned than angry.

"Dude…I'm sorry." Kenny pulled the blanket tighter around both of them. "I didn't mean to pry, and I sure didn't mean to upset you." A possible course of action occurred to him. "But look…you know how I gave you your money back, because if I took it just to cuddle with you and pretend that I care, it wouldn't be honest? I can't pretend about something like that, and...well…my prying into your personal shit was kind of another way of showing you I care. I do, you know? We were good friends once…maybe we could be again."

That seemed to be Butters' cue to sob into Kenny's chest, reaching around his chest to pull him closer. Kenny rubbed his back while Butters cried mostly quietly, getting himself under control several minutes later, lying with his head on Kenny's chest. It had been years since he'd heard another person's heartbeat.

"Feel better now?" Kenny finally asked.

Butters sniffed, wiped his nose with his hand, and nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry I got mad, Ken."

"'s'okay."

"It is kind of nice to have someone to talk to about this, I guess."

"Good." He cradled Butters' head in his hand. "In that case…do you want to tell me about that pill bottle in your shirt pocket?"

He felt Butters stiffen. "Shit," he whispered.

"It's okay," Kenny tightened his arm around Butters' back. "I put it back where I found it. But dude…there's only one reason to have a pill bottle with that many different kinds of pills in it."

Butters sighed. "My twenty-fifth birthday's in two weeks," he said in a tired monotone. "I was saving them for then…but I woulda taken them tonight if the cops tried to arrest me…"

Crap. Kenny had learned more than he wanted to about suicide and suicidal ideation, after Karen's attempt a year ago. Butters had a plan, and he had intent.

"Did you mean what you said, Kenny? About us being friends again?"

"Uh huh," he replied immediately. "It was great running into you tonight, man! Listen…remember I told you I cooked and washed dishes at the Olive Garden? I'm a hell of a good cook, and…well, if I promise to come over here for your birthday and make you the best damn birthday dinner you've ever had, would you think about…you know, not killing yourself?"

He felt Butters nod against his chest. "Okay…"

"Good! Dude, we're going to fix this, all right? You're not going to be lonely anymore, I promise."

Kenny stared at the ceiling, holding Butters close and tracing slow lazy patterns up and down his back.

"Where do you live, Ken?" Butters asked a few minutes later. He hoped Kenny lived somewhere comfortable, or at least where he could be warm on the winter nights.

"Ah…I live with a couple other guys, about four blocks from where you picked me up." He left out the part where the people he lived with were both fulltime rentboys, sharing an old leaky trailer in a shitty neighborhood just like the one he had grown up in. A lot of meth passed through their house, and Kenny found it harder each day to not go back to using again. "We share a trailer, and the guy that holds the lease on the place charges me a shitload of money to live there. But it's still cheaper than having my own place would be, so it's either that or sleeping under an overpass…and that's pretty hard to do in the winter."

"You know…you could live here, if you want to. You wouldn't even have to pay me rent or anything! You could…"

"No, I couldn't," Kenny interrupted. He knew Butters was about to protest and wrapped his arms around him. "I can't do that. I can't sponge off of you."

"Yes you can," Butters replied simply. "You don't know how much you've done for me tonight…but as long as you keep doing it, you could live here as long as you want to."

"Butters…no, I can't…" But Kenny was thinking about how good it felt to lay here like this in a warm and clean room, with someone he truly liked.

"Would you think about it at least?" Butters asked, giving him a desperately hopeful look, one which Kenny was unable to ignore. "I have another bedroom you could have if you wanted. You could…give up that other job."

Kenny looked back at him and smiled. "Give up my gig at the Olive Garden and become a fulltime male prostitute? Yeah…maybe that could work."

Butters laughed, and it was the first real laugh Kenny had heard from him all night. "Ken…you know what I meant!"

Kenny smiled. "I know." He tightened his arm around Butters' back. "Hey…I've missed hearing that laugh of yours. You always did have the coolest laugh of any of our friends. You should do it more often, dude."

"If you lived here with me, I bet you'd hear it a lot more."

Kenny took a good look at what he was doing right now and came to a decision. "You know what? All right. I'll move in here with you, but only under one condition."

Butters' silence was Kenny's cue to continue.

"I'm going to do more than just cuddle with you. I'm going to help with the rent, do some of the cooking, help keep the place clean…if you're okay with that, then we have ourselves a deal."

Butters hugged him, hard. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, Ken."

They lay quietly together. Kenny finally broke the silence.

"Remember when we went to Hawaii, when we were kids?"

Butters snorted. "Like I could ever forget that! Remember when we were flying back from Hawaii, and we had that four hour layover in Los Angeles for our connecting flight?" Kenny started laughing too; he'd hadn't thought of this in years. "My Aunt Nellie met us for lunch, and you kept insisting we had to find a restaurant that made Chi chis so I wouldn't freak out again, even though we were both way too young to drink?"

They talked late into the morning. Butters brought Kenny up to date about their childhood friends: Kyle was an orthopedic surgeon at a major hospital in Dallas, sharing a place with Stan who had found some success as a guitarist in a local band and ran a cash register at a liquor store. Cartman was a new car salesman.

Kenny told him about his life, washing dishes and some of the less unpleasant aspects of his 'other' job, and how Karen was putting her life back together (Butters caressed his face while he was telling him about this), and how his parents had finally split up for good. Clyde had spent some time in prison for larceny, and Craig and Tweek had disappeared together out east somewhere.

By the time they both found themselves struggling to stay awake, dawn was beginning to light up the bedroom window. Butters stretched up and kissed Kenny's cheek. "Thank you, Kenny."

"Naw, dude. Thank you."

Butters reached over and turned his lamp off and lay back down with his head on Kenny's chest. They were both asleep a minute later.

When Kenny awoke the next morning, the first thing he felt besides the blessed warmth of the bed he was in was Butters' arm wrapped around him from behind, and his erection pressed against his lower back. His waking up must have awoken Butters, because he felt Butters' arm tighten around him even as his lower half moved away.

Kenny smiled, pressing his face against Butters' wrist to kiss it, then turning over so their faces were inches apart. There was an obvious tent in the front of Butters' pajama pants.

"G'morning, sleepyhead," Kenny said.

"Hey Ken." Their breath mingled between them. It was obvious Kenny was staring southward, and Butters suddenly looked embarrassed.

Kenny grinned, looking up at him again. "Hey…if you want, I could do something about that…?"

Butters locked eyes with him, nodded, and swallowed. Just before Kenny reached for Butters' pajamas, he asked, "Hey, this isn't your first time, is it?"

Butters chuckled. "No, Kenny…I—I've had sex before."

Kenny smiled, reaching to slide Butters' pajama bottoms down. His erection sprang upward, and Kenny wasted no time getting it into his mouth. Butters came almost immediately.

They showered together afterward, and after they'd soaped and shampooed and rinsed, Butters sank to his knees and took Kenny's cock in his mouth. The hot water struck Kenny's shoulders as he leaned against the wall, finally coming with a loud moan.

They barely made it to the Village Inn in time for the breakfast buffet. They ate together, talking and laughing like two old friends, not like two people who had been friends a long time ago. Afterward, Kenny suggested a trip to the grocery store for ingredients to make dinner. Butters bought everything Kenny tossed into their shopping cart, including a box of large trash bags that Butters told him he had plenty of at home.

After the grocery store, Kenny led Butters back past the warehouse district and into a rundown mobile home park, stopping outside a single wide trailer. He told Butters to wait there with the doors locked while he went inside carrying a couple empty trash bags. Three minutes later he came out, the two trash bags filled with clothes and clutching a laptop under his arm. Butters got out and helped him set the bags in the back seat.

That night, Kenny cooked dinner, an amazingly flavorful pasta primavera. When they went to bed that night, instead of having hurried sex like they had that morning, they made slow and passionate love to each other.

Afterwards, Kenny fell asleep with his head on Butters' chest, snoring softly. Butters stared happily at the ceiling, feeling a contentment he hadn't felt in years, the taste of Kenny's semen tingling pleasantly in his mouth. He wasn't sure what either of them had gotten themselves into, but he knew that his life had suddenly and completely changed for the better. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was, I think I'm going to be okay now.