A Happy Place Is Hard To Find

BY : Breech_Loader
Category: +S through Z > South Park > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1024
Disclaimer: I make no money from this story, and I own none of the characters used in it. I do not own South Park.

A Happy Place Is Hard To Find

By Breech Loader

Breech: Maybe it’s because they both totally get the shitty end of the shit-stick when they’re part of the gang, or maybe it’s because blonds are super-cute, but there just is NOT enough Butters/Tweek out there. It started small and then I was reminded of how Cartman is a complete sociopath.

Oh, and because I think it sounds right with him, Tweek’s full name is “Constantine ‘Tweek’ Tweak”.

It’s been a while since I wrote a proper fan-fuck, so parts of this end up a little disjointed, but bear with me – it ramps up the heat in just a few chapters.

Chapter One: Soft Coffee

“I think…” Craig stated in his usual monotone, “I think Kenny and Cartman.”

The boys were sitting around the dinner table. A couple of hours ago Cartman had come in boasting that he’d heard his mom was the Guest Of Honor at a Key Party, and one quick internet search later had revealed to the boys just what a key party was. Now he was silently fuming while the boys joked about who would be the craziest couple at the weirdest Key Party ever.

While Kenny just tittered, Cartman glared, “I would totally not go with Kenny,” he snarled, “Kenny’s totally got AIDS.”

This got a glare from Kenny, “Have not!” he snapped.

“All poor people have AIDS,” Cartman replied casually.

“You’re kinda right, Cartman,” Stan grinned, “Kenny shouldn’t go with you. He’d totally get the Gold Key cus he’s such a pervert, and he’d visit every door but yours!”

“Yeah, any dick would get swallowed up by your bloated folds of fat,” Kyle agreed.

“So would any cunt,” Craig stated. The whole table burst into laughter – with an exception, of course.

“I’ll tell you who wouldn’t get anything!” Cartman sneered, “Butters!”

Butters stopped laughing, “Wh-wh-what?” he asked.

“You heard me, Butters,” Cartman slipped into his ‘apologetic’ persona, “You can’t help it. You’re just so weak and pathetic. Who’d want to go with you? It’s not your fault. You were probably sexually abused as a kid.”

“I was not!” Butters insisted, frustrated, “I… I was NOT!”

“True, true,” Cartman nodded, “I apologise for thinking anybody, anywhere would want to sexually abuse you, Butters. It was probably just regular abuse,” he ignored Butters’ knuckles turning white on his grip on his dinner tray.

“Sorry, Butters,” Kyle nodded, “You do kinda give off these vibes. Like you’re expecting people to pick on you.”

“Well, they do,” Butters’ eyes became cross, “So do you fellas! I’m just as likely to get picked in a key party as anybody!”

“Well, I guess there’s one other person who might be that desperate,” Stan mused, and they all looked at him, “I think you’d pair pretty well with Tweek.”

“Tweek?” Butters asked, “Isn’t he with Craig? I mean… What you mean, I’d pair well with Tweak?”

“AUGH!” the next table down the named boy’s head jerked up and he looked at them, standing up and almost running to them, “You guys said my name! Are you talking about me?!”

“Sure thing Tweek,” Cartman told him calmly, “We were thinking about kidnapping you and selling you to Kim Kardashian as her personal sex slave so that we could all get tickets to the Linkin Park concert next week. Except Butters. He likes Taylor Hicks.”

“I do not!” Butters glared.

“JESUS! You’re kidding, right?!” Tweek almost pleaded, pulling his own hair.

“Not at all, Tweek,” Cartman replied, “Now go back to your table before we kidnap you right now.”

“Oh, FUCK!” Twitching and shaking, Tweek returned to his table, and the boys all laughed, except for Butters.

“Now Cartman, I figure that was just mean,” he told the more expansive boy, “Tweek’s dad is always saying stuff like that. He thinks we’re serious.”

“Because Tweek does meth,” Kenny replied. Still sensing he was being talked about, Tweek now kept turning to face them, shaking as he poured coffee out of his thermos flask. His eyes darted around the room constantly, as if he expected Kim Kardashian to walk through those double-doors at any moment and when Mr Garrison was the one to come into the room, his plastic fork snapped in his hand.

“Don’t be dumb, Kenny,” Stan insisted, “It’s just all that coffee he drinks. God knows why; Tweak coffee tastes like fucking sewage.”

“I know what meth does,” Kenny pointed out, “And it does that,” he pointed at Tweek again.

“Yeah, Kenny would know. His parents have a meth lab in their garage,” as usual, Cartman started his lunch by eating his candy and ignoring Kenny’s glare.

Butters looked over at Tweek, who was now attempting to eat his sausage with what remained of his plastic fork.

After lunch, Tweek was walking down the hallway to class when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“AH! DON’T KILL ME AND EAT MY-“ he whipped around, “Oh, Butters- Jesus! – Don’t scare me like that!” He tugged on his blond hair.

“Hey, Tweek!” Butters smiled, “I just wanna tell you that I’m awful sorry ‘bout the fellas saying they’re gonna kidnap you and that.”

“They’re definitely not gonna sell me to Kim Kardashian for sexual slavery?!” Tweek was still shaking even as he searched Butters’ blue eyes, “Are you sure?!”

“Oh, I know Eric,” Butters nodded, looking straight back into Tweek’s bright green eyes, “He’d definitely tell me if there was really a concert and I wasn’t invited. It’s just a joke.”

“Really?! Oh thank God!” Tweek’s breathing started to return to normal.

“Unless he’s wrong,” a passing Cartman inserted calmly, eliciting a sudden shriek from Tweek.

Butters frowned as the corridor began to clear, “Tweek, you… you can trust me. Honest! I wouldn’t lie.”

“How do I know?!” Tweek pleaded, “AH! JESUS! How do I know who to trust? How do I know I can trust anybody?! Oh God! Trust you? It’s too much pressure!”

Butters watched the other blond shaking and twitching again, hands opening and closing, and screwed up his face for a moment, clenching his fists until he could feel his nails digging in, “I can prove it,” he said finally, “I’ll show you something.”

“Are you going to rape me?!” Tweek asked, “Jesus Christ, you’re going to rape me! I’m going to be raped by Butters!” he yelped to himself, backing up against the wall, his nails breaking as he clawed lines in the plaster.

“Now that’s just silly!” Butters scolded him as they entered the Boy’s Bathroom, “I’ll show you.” But he hesitated now. Several seconds passed as his eyes flickered from the floor and back to Tweek again. Taking a dive, he rolled up his left sleeve, and Tweek’s bright green eyes focused.

There were slashes all the way up Butters’ left arm, some light, and others disturbingly deep. Some of them looked quite fresh. It almost made Tweek’s heart freeze in shock, before the coffee kicked back in.

“JESUS! Who did that to you, dude?!” he asked.

“Oh, I do it to myself,” Butters told him, his tone almost drained of all hope, “I try and be happy, but sometimes things really hurt and the only way to make them stop hurting inside is to hurt myself outside. At least I think it is. Dad grounded me when he first found out, so now I… well, if I go over old scars, nobody…” he slowed down, “But honest, Tweek, now you know you can trust me! If I did anything to hurt you, you could tell everybody about this!”

“That’s AWFUL!” Tweek grabbed his hair and pulled, for once forgetting all about his own fears, “JESUS! Butters, you gotta tell somebody!”

“NO!” Butters begged, eyes wide, “Don’t ever tell anybody! Please! I… I…” he fumbled in his back pocket and pulled out his pen-knife. Tweek screamed and cowered, but suddenly, Butters pressed the blade to the back of his own wrist again, beads of blood springing up, “Don’t tell…”

Tweek snatched at the pen-knife, ready to pull it away, but Butters leant back, and slipped it back into his pants pocket, “Okay! Okay! I won’t tell! But Christ, don’t do that again! I’ll trust you!” Tweek paused, taking a breath, “I’ll trust you…” his heart still pounded, his brain still felt like a fizzing firework, but the words did feel like something new to him, “I’ll trust you…”

He leant forward enough to rest his forehead against Butters’ chest, trying to breathe normally as he chewed on his lip.

“Aw, that’s great little buddy!” Butters wiped the beads of tears away from his eyes with an arm and smiled again, before wrapping one arm around Tweek’s bony body.

“But… But…” Tweek jerked away at the touch, “Why would you even do anything like that?!” he asked, “I mean… JESUS!”

Butters’ long lashes drooped again, “Sometimes I get kinda lonely. I mean, sometimes… sometimes after….” He dragged to a halt, “Just sometimes. Really lonely.”

Tweek was still shaking, but it hadn’t occurred to him before that feeling lonely wasn’t always a good thing. After all, if he was alone then nobody could hurt him. Except the Underpants Gnomes, when they came after his clean underwear, and the FBI and CIA and MI5 and KGB all hanging around every corner, and his parents about to sell him into slavery any day now and Kim Kardashian might walk through that door at any moment…

On second thoughts, perhaps being alone didn’t work so well for him after all.

“Come on,” Butters straightened up and pulled his sleeves down, “Let’s just get back to class, Tweek, or we’ll get in trouble for bein’ late and get detention and get grounded.”

“Detention! Oh, GOD! If I get detention I might not get home in time to pick up the next delivery and I’ll be in so much trouble and my dad won’t let me have coffee for a week and-” Tweek twitched again, his green eyes widening as he saw strangely hatted figures passing by, carrying underpants, “ACK! Did you see-“

“See what?” Butters looked around him, and there was honest confusion and concern in his eyes, not the mocking sneers that Tweek felt from other boys.

“N-nothing,” he bit his lip, “Probably my imagination- OH JESUS I’M GOING CRAZY!” He grabbed hold of his hair again.

“Hey buddy, don’t worry about it,” Butters’ voice was surprisingly calm and soothing, “When I get all scared or somethin’ I can’t stop starts happenin’, I just try an’ go to my Happy Place. Have you got a Happy Place?”

“Yeah, I do… green fields… calm rivers…” Tweek sucked in a deep breath and tried to relax a little. That place in his head where he didn’t have to worry about the FBI or invading terrorists or a mutant Jennifer Lopez or where his next coffee was coming from.

Funnily enough, with Butters there, it was easier than usual.

Breech: This story was written after playing Stick of Truth, so yeah, Tweak’s coffee has Meth in it. Freshly brewed, locally-prepared meth. And no, he isn’t properly aware of it.

I hope things are going okay so far, because it's next chapter that the nasty stuff kicks in. And just for the record in this story...

Gay: Tweek, Cartman
Bi: Butters
Anything That Moves: Kenny
Straight: Everybody else (yeah, no Stan/Kyle, kiddies)

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