I remembered a while ago @butters-flower-mom asked for a sickfic with Butters? I wasn’t sure who to make the caretaker so I went for Kenny.
“Comfort”
Tw: Sickness, throwing up
(I’m so sorry this is so late, I also think I deleted the req by accident because I was clearing my inbox and must’ve done so by accident I’m sorry 😭 also this can be whatever age you interpret it to be)
Butters had awoken that morning feeling a bit sick. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Mainly just a sniffly nose and scratchy throat, but it was winter time. The air tended to get pretty dry, so he assumed it wasn’t anything a nice glass of fresh orange juice couldn’t fix.
He got up, and as soon as the warm blankets left his body, Jack Frost might as well have given him a big old hug, because the sudden chills were no joke. He groaned a bit.
“Man…does this room hafta be so chilly..?” he murmured to himself as he got his clothes. The blonde boy felt a small scratch in his throat as he talked, which caused him to rub at his vocal cords. He left the bedroom and was immediately bombarded by his father.
“Butters?! Butters! Are you seriously just getting up?!”
Normally he would’ve answered right away. Spine straight, constant eye contact (even though that proved to be uncomfortable for him, his parents didn’t care. They demanded respect.) and with his chin up. But he was a bit bleary this morning.
“Yes sir…” he mumbled.
“You’re gonna be late for school now! Go hurry up and get ready. If you’re not out in ten minutes, you’ll be grounded, mister!”
Butters sighed. Sometimes he hated the way his parents were. He figured he deserved it; why else would they treat him so bad? He needed to pull himself together. It was just a little cold. He was tougher than this! He wasn’t a baby!
So with a subdued, “Yes, sir…” he walked off to the bathroom. He got ready for the school day, brushed his teeth (while trying to ignore how awful the toothbrush felt in his mouth) and put on his clothes. He had gone so fast that his head was spinning. Literally. He couldn’t see straight.
“Jeepers…”
He rubbed his eyes, his fingers digging into his tufty, blonde hair. He felt his stomach rumble a little. And it definitely wasn’t hunger. He could feel a small headache coming on. The lights suddenly seemed too bright. The sound of the fan in the bathroom penetrated his skull. The inside of his mouth was suddenly filmy and slick as he tried to keep himself calm. His hands were shaky and sweaty.
This episode was cut short by a loud bang on the door. His mother’s voice sounded on the other end.
“Butters! Get out of the bathroom! We need to go!”
Butters but his lip. He really wasn’t in the mood. He knew if he snapped back at his mom it would be an immediate grounding, and he couldn’t risk that. So he just shook his head and ignored the sudden feeling of the thick, acidic-tasting substance that was slowly creeping up his throat.
…
Butters honestly didn’t know what was worse. Being at home with his psycho parents, or being at school with a raging headache and an even worse stomachache. He was sitting in class, listening to the teacher drone on about something or other. Probably his relationship issues. Butters wasn’t paying attention though. To be fair, nobody was. When the teacher got into talks like that everyone seemed to drone off. The only thing Butters could pay attention to was the growing nausea in his belly. He hadn’t eaten anything that morning, but he had managed to guzzle down a glass of orange juice, which temporarily chased away the throat pains. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach and moved his hand to his stomach with a quiet whimper of pain. The people around him noticed.
“Butters, you sick or something? You look like shit.”Cartman glanced over, a small smirk playing on his face. He was obviously being sarcastic, but it wasn’t the worst Butters had heard. He knew how mean Cartman could be to other people, mainly Kyle and the girls, but with Butters he seemed at least a little bit nicer. Just a little bit. He was still an asshole though.
Butters didn’t respond right away. He swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat.
“Fuck off, Cartman.” he heard Kyle mutter. Him and Kyle weren’t the greatest of friends, but Kyle tended to stick up for him more than anyone else, other than Kenny.
“I’m doin’ fine.” Butters muttered, putting his head down on the desk. He shut his eyes, trying to drown out the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his stomach trying to rip itself out. Suddenly, he felt a poke on his arm.
He shot up, his gaze glossy and unfocused. He looked over at the person who poked him. Kenny was beside him, the butt of his pen facing Butters.
“Dude, are you okay?” Kenny asked, muffled by his parka. “Do you want to go to the nurse?”
Butters would’ve said yes. He wanted nothing more than to just go back to sleep in a pile of warm blankets and be fed chicken soup. But that’s not what would’ve happened. What probably would’ve happened if he went to the nurse was, his parents would be called and either one of two things would happen.
Either A. His parents refused to get him and he was doomed to stay in school or with the nurse all day, or B. His parents would’ve gotten him but they would’ve taken turns yelling at him for making them get him, and he would be grounded. So he lied.
“I’m fine.” He mumbled. Kenny raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off. He put his head down as he felt something jab his arm. He shit up, sending his belly into an uproar. He swallowed down a gag and looked over at the culprit. It was Heidi.
“Butters, are you sure you’re okay?”
Butters was on the verge of snapping. He just wanted to be left alone. He knew he wasn’t being fair. People were concerned for him and he was getting angry. But he couldn’t help it. Anyone would be a bit cranky if they were trying to rest off a sickness. He just nodded.
“Are you sure?”
Kenny had turned around again.
“Gosh darn it, I said I’m fine! Wouldja quit botherin’ me?!”
Kenny held his hands up and Heidi’s eyes went wide as she pursed her lips. Suddenly, Mr. Garrison turned around.
“Boys, is there a problem?” he asked, folding his arms. Kenny shook his head, and Buters followed suit.
“Okay then. Butters. Answer the question I just asked.”
“Oh, biscuits.” he uttered. He hadn’t been paying attention!
“Well?”
He tried to rack his brain for anything-anything he could use for context of what was being asked of him. His stomach decided to pick that moment to squeeze inside him. He groaned and curled into himself.
Mr. Harrison didn’t seem to notice. He raised an eyebrow.
As soon as Butters opened his mouth, a rush of air surged up his throat. A warning. He burped loudly, covering his mouth with his hand. “O-oh…”
Suddenly, all eyes were on him. A few people were snickering. Some seemed genuinely concerned. The only one who seemed to have enough sense to do anything was Kenny. Kenny immediately know what to do as Butters’ stomach gurgled inside him.Kenny immediately ran to the garbage can but was too late. Butters tried to talk again, but his shoulders heaved with a hefty gag. He covered his mouth with his hand before a surge of vomit escaped his mouth, and got all over the ground.
There was a collective silence as everyone stared, wide eyed. Butters felt his cheeks redden. Oh, hamburgers…he hadn’t meant to do that…
Kenny snapped him out of his daze by putting a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re going to the nurse.” he said.
And with that, they were in the nurse’s office. A janitor had been called to clean up the mess Butters made in the classroom. The nurse approached him with a thermometer.
“102.3. I’m gonna call your parents.”
Butters’ eyes went wide. He immediately went to shake his head. He didn’t want to go back to his place, especially if his parents were gonna be called…
Kenny lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He acted quickly. When the nurse’s back was turned, he quickly stuffed his fingers down his throat, causing him to throw up a bit. Butters stared at him.
“Kenny?! You can’t do that!” he hissed. Kenny just shook his head.
“I’m not lettin’ you go back to your place like this. Especially with your parents.”
Well damn. Butters wasn’t expecting that. He had always considered Kenny a best friend but he didn’t think he would do anything like this…he honestly felt like he could cry.
Before he could say anything, the nurse turned around. She saw the puddle of vomit beneath Kenny and immediately looked at him.
“Are you sick too, young man?”
Kenny put a hand to his stomach. He whined a bit to make it sound more convincing. The nurse nodded.
“Okay. Let me check your temperature.”
Kenny pulled his hood down. He hoped the heat inside his parka would grant him temperature that was “leading to a fever.” Which surprisingly, it had.
“99.5. You’re technically fine…but would you like to go home?”
Kenny nodded.
“Okay. What are your names?”
Butters was about to answer before Kenny answered for him.
“Kenny and Leo McCormick.”
Butters nearly felt his jaw drop. He was lying to cover for him? Butters felt flattered, but also bad. What if Kenny was caught? He couldn’t bear. But he also didn’t really want to go home with his parents. They would ground him for sure. Sometimes, he considered jail to be an upgrade from his own home.
In the end, Kenny had helped Butters home. He had give n the poor, shivering boy his parka while insisting he ‘never got cold’, but Butters could see the clear goosebumps on his friend’s skin. So he opened up the hoodie before the purple-eyed boy snuggled in beside him, providing warmth for the both of them.
When he got to his house, Kenny sat Butters down. He knew his home wasn’t much, but it was hopefully better than going to the hellhole Butters called his home. He just had to make sure that he got home before the end of the school day so his parents didn’t suspect anything. Butters’ cheeks were red with fever, his skin was waxy and his eyes were glassy. But he glanced at Kennybthrough half lidded eyes.
“I’m sorry for hollerin’ at you in class.” he said, clenching and unclenching his fist in his lap. Kenny waved him off with a shrug and a wave of his hand.
“It’s alright. I don’t blame you.” Kenny told him. Butters still felt bad, but he didn’t really feel well enough to argue.
“You’re a good friend Kenny.” Butters told him sleepily. He yawned. Kenny smiled a bit and stood up, grabbing a blanket. It was dirty and had some holes, but it was still warm. He put it over Butters’ shoulders. He sat beside his friend as he fell asleep next to Kenny, feeling safe and loved for the first time in nine years.
…
I know the ending was kinda rushed but I wanted to get this out for you guys-working on the CAH and other fic yall wanted but this one was almost done, anyway, hope you enjoyed!! feel free to leave reqs in my inbox ^^
7 notes
·
View notes
task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.
Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.
Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.
Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.
Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.
Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.
Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.
Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!
Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.
Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.
Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.
Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!
Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?
Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?
Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.
Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?
BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.
Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.
707 notes
·
View notes