A/N: Hey, PachucaSunrise here. This is the first fanfic I've uploaded to , but not the first fanfic I've ever written, so please go easy on me in the reviews. There won't be very much Bunny interaction in the first couple chapters, mostly because there are other characters involved and I want to get that out of the way first, but rest assured: there will be Bunny. Oh, and if anyone's wondering about the title of the story, I got it from an awesome song with the same name by Dear and the Headlights. Great band.

Pairing: Kenny/Butters, and maybe some Stan/Kyle or WendyxCartman on the side if the opportunity should arise to include them.

Warning: Obscene, foul-mouthed 16 year old boys, but this is South Park so that shouldn't be too surprising.


Cartman had come up with many brilliant schemes in his 16 years of life, but he considered this one to be golden.

It all started at a sleepover at the house of Butters Stotch - and yes, he and Butters did still have sleepovers, shut up. Butters was too naïve to see anything unusual about it, and although Cartman thought that sleepovers were "totally queer now, you gahs", he went along with it because that meant he got to play pranks on the blonde boy, and in his mind that canceled out the queerness.

So that's why he was now in Butters' bedroom, watching the aforementioned playing Hello Kitty Island Adventure.

"Jesus Christ, Butters," he remarked distastefully as he peered over the other boy's shoulder to get a good look at the computer screen, "You still play this shitty-ass game?"

Butters frowned and looked away, mashing his knuckles together nervously. "Wuh-well, it's the only game my parents will let me play, 'cause they think that all the other games are just too violent for me," he explained.

"Your parents are fucking lame, dude," Cartman stated as he flopped down on his Steve Urkel sleeping bag. Butters did nothing to confirm or deny this statement, instead focusing all his attention on getting to the next level. Cartman clicked his tongue disapprovingly at the silence and decided to rant until he got a response from Butters in one way or another. "I'm being seriouslah here. They suck dick. Probably literally, in your Dad's case."

Butters turned halfway in his seat to look at Cartman and shot him his best angry look, though it came out more like a pout, much to the amusement of the boy on the receiving end. "Ya shouldn't be insulting my parents like that, Eric. I'm starting to get real steamed up about it, and you won't like me when I'm angry, oh no you won't!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever, Butters," Cartman said, unfazed, and waved his hand dismissively. "I've seen you throw a bitch fit before, and let me tell you, I wasn't impressed." Just then, a large growl issued from his rotund belly, effectively distracting Cartman in a way that only food could. "Well, Butters," he began as he stood up and sauntered toward the door, "as much as I'd like to watch you get your ass handed to you at a game meant for 7 year old girls, food beckons me to your kitchen."

"Gee, Eric," Butters replied with surprise, glancing down at the clock in the corner of the computer screen, "It's already 9:30! If you eat now, it'll be bad for your health, and you'll probably gain lots of weight!"

Cartman paused, his hand resting on the doorknob as he gave the blonde a blank look. "Do I look like someone who gives a rat's ass?" Butters was going to dignify that with a response, but before he could even open his mouth, the tubby boy was gone. He just sighed and went back to collecting coconuts so he could get to the next level.

"How's about Monopoly?"


"Okay… hm… Candyland?"


Butters turned away from his shelf of games and tilted his head to one side as he studied Cartman. The other boy was once again sitting on his sleeping bag, but this time he had a box of Cheesy Poofs (which was, of course, now half-empty, even though Mrs. Stotch had just bought it yesterday). Butters watched in dismay as crumbs fell from Cartman's hands and mouth and onto the sleeping bag. Although a minute detail to other teenagers, it was practically life or death for Butters.

"Eric, I sure hope you aren't getting any of that on the carpet," he voiced his concerns, gesturing at the messy sight before him. "My parents might ground me!"

Cartman rolled his eyes and shoveled more of the cheesy snacks into his mouth. "Relax, dude, and stop being such a goddamn Melvin. I'm not getting any crumbs on your precious carpet," he said around a mouthful of food. Butters gave the carpet one last critical look to make sure Eric was telling the truth before he turned back to the shelf of games.

"Let's see here…," he mumbled to himself as he scanned the crammed contents of the shelf. When his eyes fell upon one he liked, his whole face lit up. "Oh boy, oh boy! Mousetrap, my favorite!" With a spin and a dramatic flourish, Butters presented the box to Cartman. The other boy merely looked at it uninterestedly, gave it a light shove, and went back to eating.

"Weak," he stated simply.

The radiant smile which had been plastered upon Butters' face quickly diminished. Cartman had an uncanny ability to squash his hopes and dreams, but for some reason, he still desperately wanted his approval. "C'mon, Eric, help me out here!" he implored, spreading his arms wide. "If you don't wanna play board games, well, what do you wanna do?"

Cartman momentarily stopped eating and placed a thumb and forefinger on his large chin as if in deep thought. He could continue to do a bunch of meaningless crap with Butters, but why bullshit around and waste time when he already had a prank in mind that was just waiting to be executed?

"I'm tired, Butters," Cartman whined, raising his arms above his head and yawning for added effect. "Can we just go to sleep?"

The blonde blinked, surprise evident on his youthful features. That had been just about the last thing he was expecting Cartman to say. "Well, if that's what you want, Eric, it's fine by me! 'Sides, I'm feelin' a little tired myself," he said, his last words preceding a yawn. He then disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth and get changed, leaving Cartman alone in the bedroom. Finally, some peace and quiet, he thought, although this was brought to an abrupt end when the musical strains of "If You Leave Me Now", as performed by Butters Stotch, drifted through the door.

"Shut up," Cartman hissed through gritted teeth as he muffled the sound with a pillow. Now that he was back to relative peace and quiet, Cartman could think. After exactly 32 pranks, he was quite confident that Butters was indeed a heavy sleeper and wouldn't wake up if a train barreled right through the room. However, the last few times he had tried pranking Butters in his sleep, his victim had started having nightmares and Cartman would have to abandon the prank in case he woke up and caught Cartman in the act. "Yes, yes, I'll have to work fast this time," he muttered to himself decidedly as he rolled onto his back.

A few minutes later, Butters reemerged, wearing - oh my God, is this kid for real? - blue pajamas with bunnies and hearts all over. Cartman just pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation (a habit he had picked up from Stan) as the other boy, still singing, strolled across the room and got in his bed.

"'Night, Eric!" he called as he turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Then began the waiting game: Cartman lay still in his sleeping bag, listening to Butters toss and turn until he finally grew still after approximately 24 minutes. Cartman wasted no time. He pulled out a flashlight, threw back the cover of his sleeping bag, rolled a few times (the Mission Impossible theme playing in his head all the while), then sprung to his feet. A quick glance at the bed confirmed that Butters was indeed asleep. Cartman smirked and tip-toed over to the computer desk where Butters also kept all of his supplies and personal belongings, then opened the first drawer and flipped on the flashlight. He had checked earlier; all of the things he needed for the prank were already in there. Now he just had to find them again.

But as he noisily rummaged through the drawer, the items were suddenly very elusive. "Goddamnit!" he hissed as he grew more and more frustrated. There were pencils, erasers, construction paper, old birthday cards, and tons of other crap that was completely useless to Cartman, but there was nothing he actually needed. Just as he was about to pull the hair out of his head in chagrin, his flashlight illuminated something else of interest: a marble notebook with the words 'BUTTERS' DIARY' written in a white square in the center. For a moment, he could only stand there and stare at it, jaw slacked slightly. Then full comprehension hit him like a big yellow school bus and it was all he could do to not jump up and down and whoop joyously. As much as he liked pranking, Eric Cartman loved blackmail with a fiery passion, and this diary practically reeked of potential blackmail material (and, for some reason, pickles).

He sat down at the desk and laid out the book, taking a deep, steadying breath before opening it. The first few pages were mostly filled with cutesy little doodles, including some cartoonish sketches of their friends: there was Stan and Kyle, smiling and waving and looking friendly as usual, a rather unflattering Cartman, but mostly there was Kenny. Lots of Kenny. And not even pictures of Kenny dying, like Cartman would draw and show to Kenny to piss him off. There were pictures of Kenny smiling, Kenny laughing, Kenny eating a pop tart. They were more detailed than the other drawings, and for a second, Cartman almost admired Butters' artistic ability. But then he scoffed and continued flipping pages. He stopped at an entry titled 'October 5th':

'Today was a good day. I only got homework in one class, AND I found out I aced my science test, whoopee! When I told my parents, they said that they wouldn't have to ground me, which made me real thankful, and then we went to eat at my favorite restaurant: Bennigan's!'

Cartman sighed and rolled his eyes. Jesus Christ, how boring was this kid? He skimmed through the next 20 pages or so, looking for anything that he could possibly use to make Butters' life a living hell, but all he got were obnoxiously long accounts of the most mundane things, such as finding a ladybug on the windowsill or a double rainbow or some shit like that. Cartman snorted in distaste and rested his elbow against the surface of the desk, then leaned his cheek into his hand as he stared blankly at the diary.

"The night has not been kind to me," Cartman muttered despondently. He turned around in the swivel chair to face the slightly open window, extending his arms toward the moon pleadingly. "What have I done to deserve this? All I want is to know Butters' deepest darkest secrets so I can use them to humiliate him. Is that really so much to ask?"

Just then, as if in reply to Cartman's query, a rather large gust of wind blew in and caused the pages to turn. By the time he had spun back around to look at the diary, it was opened to a page conveniently titled 'My Deepest, Darkest Secret'.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you," Cartman whispered as his eyes began to devour the text.

'Dear Diary:

Now, I don't normally share this kind of stuff with people, mostly 'cause I think they wouldn't understand, or they'd make fun of me. But I can trust you, right? Well, here goes…

I love Kenny McCormick.'

Cartman's eyes expanded to nearly the size of saucers. He reread the sentence once. He reread it three more times. He held the diary right up to his face, held it away again, and squinted. The sentence was still the same.

"Ho…ly… fuck."

'Yep, I said it! I love Kenny McCormick, boy howdy do I! I know we're not as close as Stan and Kyle or nothing, but he's the only person I know who's never made me feel like shit. Uh-oh, I just said a bad word, but I don't even care if my parents find out and ground me. I'd go through a million groundings for Kenny!'

At the bottom was a simplistic drawing of Kenny and Butters holding hands. The cuteness nearly made Cartman gag, but the triumph he felt for discovering such an intimate secret overwhelmed his disgust. Almost immediately after he finished reading the entry, proverbial light bulbs were going off in his head.

This was definitely better than any prank.