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“Who in the fuck are you talking about right now?”
Kenny and Stan both hushed their rather loud whispering to give Cartman a look. The blonde simply gave a lazy smile, crooked teeth shown proud as he casually answered, “Butters, who else?”
The two of them had been dancing on every last one of his nerves for the past three days, and that little confirmation of a name nearly snapped them all in two. First it was some comment on something Butters had made for him, a girlie little trinket Cartman had hastily shoved into his bag before anyone could get a good look. Then it was the teasing over dates for the upcoming holiday. Now this? Bastards.
“I mean, he's sweet in a…Butters way, y’know?” Stan chimed in, taking Cartman's silence as a reason to actually keep speaking. “We just figured it wouldn't hurt to set him up.”
“You can't do that-”
“Why not?” Kenny was quick to cut Cartman off, arching a brow. “You said so yourself. You and him aren't dating because you said, and I quote, ‘that's gay shit.’ So why shouldn't we do this for the lil’ guy?”
Oh you sons of bitches. He did say that but he didn't mean it in a ‘you should totally fix Butters up with one of the gaywads you bozos meet doing shows.’ Butters was his, and that had been established for a damn long while now. Labels were stupid anyways. And he said as much.
Kenny just clicked his tongue, leaning back against his seat. Despite how at ease he always appeared, Cartman knew better. He could see the slight narrowing of that gaze, the way that smile ever so slightly quirked up at the corner…just like when he was going to say something so incredibly stupi-
“You afraid we might find someone Butterbutt would like better? Is that it?”
“Oh fuck you- No!” Cartman lurched across the table, and would've had a handful of Kenny's shirt had it not been for the bastard leaning farther back. “For your information po’ boy, Butters is just fine with our arrangement. We don't need you fuckin’ it up!”
“Oh so there is something to fuck up then?”
Cartman's eyes shifted over to Stan. “You.”
“Me,” Stan repeated with a sly grin. Shooting his fellow asshole a glance, he continued. “I mean…from how you're acting it shouldn't even be a big deal, right? If anything it's just a friendly wager between friends.”
“Wager? Like a bet?” Cartman squinted his eyes, thinking. “What do I get when you all lose? What do you all even get out of it?”
“Loser pays for the winner's dinner, anywhere. Even those more classy restaurants in North Park.” Kenny watched the large boy muse over things, seeing the wheels in his head turn over the idea.
It wasn't like Butters had ever looked anywhere else before, and these idiots didn't know anything about relationships- not that this was one…with that in mind Cartman clapped Kenny on the shoulder, jostling him. “You got a bet. Get ready to empty out your fuckin wallets men, I'm going to be eating good.
***
If looks could kill, Stan and Kenny would be buried so far underground not even cadaver dogs would sniff them out. The guy they brought for Butters? Oh. He'd have it much worse. Much, much worse.
Bradley fucking Biggle. Douchebag, loser, and every other insult that Cartman wouldn't dare name in public for fear of fucking up his chances. Not that Butters ever seems to care that much, but Stan and Kenny liked to play dirty, as shown by this disgusting display.
That was alright though, because even if Bradley minded, Cartman would tag along and show just how much better of a man he was and always would be. It just...sucked that the doofus was being so goddamn nice about it. If he had crashed an actual date Cartman would've reamed into him.
The arcade was a flurry of noises, lights, and visuals. Every turn of the head brought in the sighs of games made in every variety, laughter ringing from all four corners. Cracking his knuckles, Cartman already had a destination in mind.
"C'mon Butters, there's no line for the racing games-"
"Leo, you like bunnies, right?" Bradley cut in, pointing to a neat row of claw machines off to the side. "I could win you one!"
Cartman snickered. "Yeah right, like he'd want some dumb..." trailing off, he felt an absence at his side.
Butters was quick to place his face up against the glass, ogling the stuffies inside. "Wow! There's so many!"
"Y'know, they say I'm pretty good at these things," Bradley puffed out his chest a bit and gave Butters a grin. "Which one do you want?"
"Butters," Cartman sighed, leaning heavily against the other side of the machine. "You have like a thousand stuffed animals at home. You don't need any more of them."
Blue eyes met his own across the glass, wide eyes and pleading. "But...it wouldn't hurt to have another....right?"
"Exactly!" Bradley said, focusing on the task at hand. "This really just takes a slight hand...shit." The brown stuffed rabbit dropped from the claw back into the pile, the glass vibrating slightly.
"You suck, Mint Berry." Snorting, Cartman pushed off to head towards the back. A line had started forming for his favorite game and if he had it his way it wasn't going to get any longer. Looking back at Butters he was surprised to find the blonde still standing there, not moving from the claw machine. Weird. "Butters? You coming?"
Butters peered back for a moment, his eyes darting towards Bradley who was still trying another attempt at the game. "Um...you go ahead Eric! I'll meet you there in a hot minute!"
Watching as he turned around, Cartman felt something he wasn't quite accustomed to. Disappointment? No. He felt that with Kyle on the daily. Annoyance was nothing new…
Perhaps worry. He shoved that far back. That was an emotion that as far as he was concerned had no place here. No one was that impressed with gifts like that- hell, he was pretty sure the prizes were worth less than what they stocked in the dollar store around the corner. This thought is what kept him from any sort of worry as he took his place in the small queue.
Butters was probably just being nice. Fuckin’ sissy. He always had to try making sure no one felt left out, even if they were better off just the two of them. It was aggravating but if anyone could appreciate that, Cartman supposed he could. After all it was kind of…how things progressed in the first place.
Why girls had been so obsessed with party games like spin the bottle Cartman never quite understood. Okay, that was a lie, he very well could but when you’re trying to convey being a badass who doesn’t care it makes things a little tricky. He had been just as excited, he could admit to himself. Thirteen had been the age of change, reinventing oneself to fit new standards and for him that meant becoming suave. The leather jacket his mother got was his ticket into that, and he half expected the girls to be fighting over getting to wear it as the bottle spun round and round, a blur in the middle of the floor.
Imagine his surprise when silence was all he heard. The girl it had landed on shifted over as far as she could, squishing up against Kevin Stoley (why he was invited Cartman could never figure out- a seat filler perhaps.) Clear as day, Cartman remembers that awkward chuckle he emitted, how warm he felt under the collar as his eyes looked around at the various faces. The young lady at the girl's other side had looked away, determined to act as though she knew it certainly wasn’t on her.
It hadn’t taken more than a few more seconds for giggles to start breaking out. Someone had barked out for “someone to take one for the team,” and some of the other girls had begun tittering and shaking their heads. At that moment Cartman had truly begun to understand the emotion of shame- sitting there with a light on him, alone with no one to kiss during the first boy-girl party he could actually participate in. That leather jacket now felt a size too small, and he became all too aware of the sweat gluing those carefully styled locks to his forehead.
That’s when Butters did what Butters does best, he butt himself right into the situation like the asshole he was. Scooting forward, he hadn’t even said anything, just leaned in and placed a chaste kiss right on his lips like it was nothing. Like no one was watching or making fun.
The dumbass didn’t even have the sense to look hurt when he roughly wiped his mouth, only looked chagrined as others laughed. Maybe that’s why Cartman thought of that moment so much- he didn’t feel embarrassed to have done that with him, so long as it helped things along.
So long as it meant someone wasn’t left out.
That was the thought he held onto when he saw Butters clutching that stupid stuffed rabbit, having only made it to watch the end of Cartman’s race. He was just making sure Bradley didn’t feel bad and had nothing to do with anything else.
And it was just fine that he didn't have enough tickets to get Butters anything. It didn't matter really, after all gifts weren't even important in the grand scheme of things.
***
…There was a possibility the kindness Butters exhibited went too far.
The Cotswolds weren’t awful, but Mark was still a goddamn dweeb who had nothing much going for him besides a slightly hot sister. Why his friends thought that dude could compete with the likes of him was laughable.
Dragging his feet, Cartman tried to stay awake. Frames filled with art, painting and drawings, sculptures scattered throughout the room, and all that really held any interest with the excitable little blonde bouncing from subject to subject. If Butters was talking his ear off that would be fine enough, but instead he was doing so with Mark, who only offered his arm and nodded with a smile.
Creep.
It also didn’t help that he had to act like he knew just oh so much about this art shit. All Cartman had done was point out a few things he thought looked funny and suddenly he was being shit on? What the hell?
“Jesus, you’d think they’d wanna be painted with more than a half-chub.” Cartman snorted at his own words, crinkling up his nose.
Mark had only sighed as he strolled past with Butters, every word precise in their way to damage the ego of anyone named Eric T. Cartman. “Crudity isn't the point of these paintings. But it's certainly expected you wouldn't have as discernable an eye as myself and Leopold, here”
“As discernable an eye as myself and - god, fuck off, dude.” The large man mocked under his breath. Every comment was made to fluff himself up like some prized hen or something. It was pissing Cartman off.
It wouldn't be so bad if Butters wasn't hanging off every word Mark said about this shit. He was acting interested to be polite, but there were points it actually crossed as genuine as he asked questions and put in his own comments. Which wasn't surprising, Butters had always had a knack for the arts.
That little giggle Cartman didn't want to admit he was so fond of brought his attention back to what was at hand. He caught how Mark leaned in to whisper something to Butters, making him laugh and respond back with enthusiasm that made Cartman's insides knot up uncomfortably.
Did they ever talk like that?
If Butters were beside him now he'd be poking fun at everything, making jokes and having a good time before blowing the place and going somewhere worthwhile. After all, it wasn't like anything here was worth much- not like what Butters could make with the meager supplies he had at home. Now that was real talent, not all this hoity toity shit.
But hearing him talk, comment on technique, of application, the awe that Butters was so unreserved with giving now going towards these things in an actual discussion was not pleasant. At least not when Cartman wasn't even a part of it.
It all just felt like he was waiting for something to happen.
Seeing them laugh, talking so freely…Cartman felt the red that coated his vision blur. He was angry, absolutely, but that other emotion was becoming far too prominent.
He knew he wasn't necessarily a true…catch amongst his peers. People didn't vie for his attention or shove their way to simply be beside him. He had very little loyalty towards him, the most of it coming from his boyf- Butters. Butters who even after Cartman had used his ability and gullibility more times than he could count had given forgiveness. Butters who had made sure he didn't feel unwanted at a dumb party. A Butters that gave affection despite never getting anything back to show that appreciation.
His Butters.
And now he was losing him.
***
“Hey…hey Butters!” A voice had called out from across the road. As the figure approached, the blonde smiled.
“Bradley! Long time no see!” He joked. “It's like I saw you just this morning!”
“Well uh, yeah,” Bradley chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a great time, really! I…I hope you did too?”
Butters nodded, blue eyes sweeping around momentarily. “Well yeah! It was a hoot and a half! But…have you seen Eric anywhere? We were hanging with Mark and now I can't find him.”
“He must've gotten the hint and left.”
“Left? Why?” Butters craned his neck back to the side, scrunching his brow. “He didn't have to leave.”
Bradley blinked once. Then twice. “Well…it must've been kind of weird to third wheel on a date. I'm not sure if Kenny and Stan planned to bring him anyone.”
Laughter bubbled up forth as Butters tried to reign himself in. “Oh goodness! I think there's been a mix up- If anything I think the guys were supposed to bring someone for you or Mark, not Eric!”
“No, they explicitly said it was a date with you. Told me to take you out for a good time and recommended the arcade. I know they said the same thing to the other guy too.”
“Me? Why would they do that when I've been with Eric for so long? That doesn't even make sense.” Butters stopped his giggling, voice lowering slightly. “What….what exactly did they say to you if you don't mind me asking.”
Bradly hunched his shoulders awkwardly. “They uh…they said that you and Cartman weren't ‘official’ or anything. That they wanted you to have fun. I heard them kind of talk about a bet too but I think they forgot I was even there.”
The gears in his head turned, Butters going through every little thing he knew about his friends, how they poked buttons, how they acted. Untangling himself from further conversation with Bradley, he made his excuses. He had a few things to do before finding Eric.
***
Whoever the fuck said origami was fun needed to rot in hell.
“Dammit!” Cartman cursed once more, pulling his hand back from the paper to inspect the small red line along his skin.
It was the dumbest idea he had ever had, of that he was sure. But, if there was any page to take from Stan's book, while a lot of romantic gestures were dumb as shit they worked. If it could bring Wendy back then it definitely would help with Butters.
Swiping the video back with a pudgy finger, Cartman watched from the beginning. Originally he had planned on just shelling out the bucks for actual flowers, not realizing how expensive they were. They grow from the freaking ground, how much could they actually cost?
However, his mind was top tier, so of course he decided the next best thing would be to just make some paper flowers- artistic for Butters AND could show some of his value. He could be caring. Thoughtful.
If only the fucking things would fold right.
Crumpling up the pink paper in his hands, he tossed it with a growl. “Why the fuck is this so hard?”
About the time he grabbed a clean piece of paper, this time a happy yellow, a knock sounded on his door. Grumbling, Cartman got himself up on wobbly legs. It was probably Stan or Kenny coming to rub things in his face. Fuckin’ douchebags. Mark wasn't even fair, the guys a- “Butters?”
“Eric!” Butters beamed up at him. “I was tryin’ to call ya!”
A brief check showed that indeed he had- 15 missed calls in fact. Shit. “Jesus Butters, what was so important you needed a hold of me. Wanted to tell me all about your date with Cotswolds?”
Butters didn't even flinch at that, still smiling as he pushed past into the house. “Oh the date was great, had I known I was going on it. Funny enough, it was Bradley who told me about that. Not Stan or Ken, not even you. My boyfriend.”
“I'm not your-”
“Shut up and sit down.”
Cartman's ass immediately hit the couch. Listening ears were on.
“Now I dunno why you would make a bet about lil ol’ me, but maybe it would've been nice to let me in on it so I wouldn't have to go the whole day making nice with Mark Cotswolds of all people!” Butters stood with his arms crossed as he waited.
Cartman wracked his brain for what to say. It shouldn't have mattered that he'd been caught, if this was years ago he wouldn't have cared. But now? Now was different. Now there was more at stake. Just as he was about to try making some apology, the words fully hit him.
“...were you pretending with Mark?” The idea had already started to make him smirk.
“Oh, don't you get started on that!” The blonde chastised. “It wasn't bad but gosh the guy talks! I was trying to be nice!”
“I knew it!”
“That's not the issue here Eric! The problem,” Butters nearly shouted, pointing down at the round boy, “is that instead of just letting me know the plan you let me go through those dates like an idiot!”
Cartman felt his face heat, his eyes struggling to stay on the gaze that held him in place. Gulping, he tried to price his words together. “I…it's not a big deal Butters.”
“If it's not a big deal then what are you making?”
“What?”
Leaning down, Butters tapped the dimming screen, showing the paused YouTube video. With the crumpled paper scattered on the coffee table, it would've taken someone actually blind to miss what this was.
“That's not- I wasn't…it's nothing at all!” Cartman scrambled, grabbing a few errant pieces.
“Eric.”
That tone was enough to act as a rod in his back as he straightened up. He didn't allow his eyes to move back up until he heard his name repeated.
Butters didn't look mad, but expectant. It was a look that both pissed him off and intrigued him- like the blonde dared to think he knew him better than others. And maybe he did.
Maybe Cartman could admit that. Just this once.
“I didn't want those assholes to think I couldn't do things for you.” Each word left his throat by force, pushed out between teeth that wanted to keep them trapped.
Butters smiled, crouching down to eye level. “Well Bradley and Mark don't really know me-”
“I'm talking about Stan and Kenny. They kept saying you needed someone better or some shit. Like I don't do enough.”
“And you think I'd agree?” Butters hummed. “I mean, I've been mackin’ on ya for years, Eric, and hanging around you for far longer. If there was a problem I would've left by now, right?”
Silence filled the space between them, something Butters took as a sign to keep speaking. His voice softened, hand coming up to squeeze Cartman's knee.
“You make me laugh. A lot. And if I'm being honest I don't think I'd be half as tough about things if you hadn't been around.” Butters let himself scootch closer, catching Cartman's eyes. His face was close, close enough that had either of them leaned in just a bit more no talking would be needed. “We don't even have to be doin’ nothin’ for me to have a good time. I’d cancel stuff just to sit on the couch if that's what you were doing. And if it's about us just being kissin’ buds-”
Abruptly, Cartman's lips smacked against Butters. It was quick, decisive. “Boyfriends. We're boyfriends.”
Blue eyes crinkled as they saw the bright flush filling Cartman's face. Leaning back in he gave another sweet smooch, lingering in meaning. “Boyfriends then.”
Letting out a breath of air, Cartman's shoulders sagged considerably. Reaching over he grabbed one of his attempts, a half folded and mostly crushed red paper flower, and presented it to Butters. “I uh…was trying to make you a bouquet. Figured I could give it to you and then we could go get a burger or something. Came out like shit.”
“Oh!” Grabbing the flower, Butters let that smile he wore overtake his features. “It's not bad at all! I think the crinkles actually give it some dimension too, maybe we could-”
“Butters, are you going to go out with me or not?” Despite the annoyance coloring his voice, Cartman still looked flustered.
“Yes, but we could get something nicer,” Butters giggled, putting the flower down. “I figured we could go show off to the guys and get that free meal you bet. You know, the one you could've had sooner if you talked to me?”
“Yeah yeah,” Cartman waved him off, “communication, blah blah blah. Is this going to be something you harp on often? Because I might have to take away that whole boyfriend thing-”
“Do that and I'm not going to kiss you again.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
“Do you think it was a little mean…what we were doing?” Stan asked, watching the couple excitedly dig into the seafood boil across the room. “I mean, it's not like we couldn't tell Cartman was serious about him.”
Kenny just took a sip of his coke in quiet pause. “Maybe. Either way it lit a fire under his ass.”
The basket of shared fries between them was meager, but knowing the bill that was to come from the two across the way it was all they could bank on. It was a silly plan really, but they knew Cartman couldn't ignore the call of a good bet. Still Stan couldn't help but feel thankful it only bit them in the wallets.
“Could’ve gone worse.”
“Couldn't have gone better,” Kenny countered with a grin, flicking a fry into the other’s lap. “They're together and all is fine, Marsh. What you should be worrying about is making tonight up to me. Fries and a coke isn't exactly wining and dining, dude. Or did Cartman completely clear ya out?”
With a scoff, Stan shook his head. “Oh c’mon, you never gave a shit for the fancy stuff. I have something much better in mind anyway, something way better than watching Mark Cotswolds piss off Cartman.”
Raising a brow, Kenny narrowed his eyes playfully. “Wanna bet on it?”