Soundtrack: Airship Pirate – Abney Park

Very few people know that Kenny McCormick enjoys going to conventions. Pirate conventions, Sci-Fi conventions – even the anime conventions. Stan sort of knows, because he and Kenny got drunk together once and Kenny wouldn't stop talking about "that one hot Lara Croft" that he'd met at a convention when he was fifteen, had a one night stand with in her bathtub while the other cosplayers sharing her room were asleep, and never saw again.

He shamefully attends conventions with Tweek, who only ever emerges from his bedroom to go to nerdy events such as these, and his sister, whose one true love seems to be yaoi mangas and 'shipping' Kenny with various male friends. The latter bit is what lead Kenny to finally admit the truth: His sister is a total weirdo. After she discovered the bi status of his sexuality, Karen seemed to give up the idea that Kenny could remain into women at all.

Which is absurd, because the leading incentive bringing Kenny to conventions is the presence of cat girls in fur bikinis.

Starfest is quickly becoming one of his favorite cons to attend. He thinks it's because the audience for Sci-Fi ranges much wider in age than for anime, and even at a mere twenty, he's beginning to feel like one of the creepy old cosplayers at the anime cons. He's recognizable among the crowd, one of the regulars – Mysterion, the superhero of his own making. Most people at the conventions think that he's dressing up like the obscure, fifteen minutes of fame kid superhero from ages ago. They don't know that he's dressing like himself.

The end of Mysterion came when he was fifteen years old. Karen had been rifling through his dresser drawers, reportedly looking for loose change so that she could go to a movie with Ruby Tucker. Instead of change, she found one of his more updated Mysterion getups, and realized that her 'guardian angel' was actually her dumb older brother. Kenny thinks that she might have been upset that Mysterion wasn't somebody more interesting. No, he was just the kid that lived in the bedroom next door, watching too much porn and doing too little homework.

These days, he's only Mysterion at conventions.

He still gets a rush every time he puts the costume on, even though he's had to mod it as he's grown. He knows he isn't saving anybody when he wears it to a convention, but feels as though he could. It's a nice change from his regular Joe-Schmoe life. Kenny and Karen bunk together in a tiny-ass, sketchy apartment on the shadier side of Denver, both working shitty jobs to scrap up enough rent to get them from month to month. Kenny works two: A fascinating day job as a waiter at Hard Rock Café, and a nighttime janitor gig for some big-ass office building that takes fucking forever to clean. Karen spends her days as a barista and a part-time student.

Karen wants to make art for a living.

Kenny isn't sure how profitable this dream is, but he doesn't have the heart to tell her that he doesn't think being an art major is going to land her a job. He wonders if maybe he's being a dick about it. But growing up poor, he's learned that you need to do what's practical, what will feed you, and what will make sure you're sleeping in a warm, safe place. An art degree isn't going to get Karen shit. But she's happy, so he won't tell her that.

She won the lottery for a booth at the Artist's Alley for this Starfest, though. She's selling her prints, and he'll be the first to buy one.

"You're not going in that," Kenny says, when Karen emerges from her bedroom in a corset and flouncy floor-length skirt.

Karen rolls her eyes, "Boobs sell things. Even your sister's boobs. Bitch about it on Facebook or something."

Kenny doesn't make much of an effort to protest after that. He knows when he's been told, and Karen has indeed told him.

They meet Tweek in the badge pickup line, where his mother has dropped him off. Tweek never got out of South Park – he still lives with his parents and works at their coffee joint. Still, he seems happy, and that's more than Kenny can say for the Tweek of their high school years. Tweek likes having a routine life, one that doesn't surprise him or make him stress. He's happy being nothing particularly remarkable.

Kenny, meanwhile, wishes that he was a somebody. Somebody that people give a damn about. He used to be, when Mysterion was a thing. Now Mysterion is a washed up loser addicted to nicotine, working two jobs and being too exhausted to make anything else of himself. When the illusion of Mysterion broke for Karen, it seemed to break for everybody.

Fuck.

Kenny's gonna need to pick somebody up at this con. He's too lonely to spend it alone while Karen begins her new career as a booth babe, and Tweek cloisters himself in the least-threatening panels. He won't even bother being discerning over who he picks up. They needn't be as fabulous as that amazing Lara Croft whose real name he never learned. He could even settle for a somewhat attractive Trekkie.

The worst part of being a lonely guy at a convention is the couple cosplayers. He sees a Zelda and Link pass by the badge line, hand in hand, and sighs. Across the hall, a couple of guys in top hats and goggles kiss for a group of girls in Fallout gear. Kenny sighs again, this time earning a sideways glance from Karen. Kenny hasn't said anything out loud, but if her observation of Kenny watching old episodes of Queer as Folk is any indication, she knows that he's been lonely. She leans up and kisses his cheek before half-skipping half-walking to the table to collect her badge. Kenny and Tweek follow afterward, plucking a schedule up to peruse.

"Man, all the panels sound super fucking boring until like three," Kenny complains.

Tweek looks at Kenny like he's committed a sin and responds, "Are you kidding? These sound great, man!"

Kenny rolls his eyes. He mutters, "You go on. I'm gonna peruse the dealer's room, anyway." Whatever he does, he'll avoid Karen's booth. He doesn't want to have to watch his little sister get hit on my creepy nerds that only ever see the light of day when they're wearing a costume and congregating with the rest of the world's creepy nerds. See: Tweek.

Kenny can't afford as much of the cool swag that he wishes he could have. If he had infinite funds, he'd probably have his walls decked out in replica swords and shelves of busty collectable action figures. Then, if he was lonely, he could look back at his wall of useless stuff and comfort himself with the knowledge that he was a rich bastard and could afford anything. Alas, he's poor as dirt, and is spending every extra bit of his money on enjoying this convention frugally.

Kenny still exits the dealer's room with a katana.

The con is a lot more crowded than it was a mere thirty minutes ago. There are more random-ass cosplayers, and a lot more unkempt wigs. Kenny likes to think that he's one of the better-looking cosplayers, though you can't really tell with the mask fastened over his face.

"Hey!"

Kenny should probably take the sword up to his room. The con staff doesn't like when you just carry around your weapons willy-nilly.

"Hey, Mysterion!"

Kenny swivels around.

And his jaw drops.

"Can I get a picture?" asks a distinctly steampunk Professor Chaos. It's Butters. It is motherfucking Butters Stotch. He's decked out his bronze and leather armor, EL wire wound around his metal gloves and glowing green. His helmet is a definite upgrade from the tinfoil of their youth, as are the leather and brass leg pieces fastened to the fronts of his legs. And he looks like he's grown a little – or maybe that's just because he's standing beside an equally punked out Dougie, who's still short and skinny and freckled from head to toe. He's wearing goggles, and a full bodysuit of armor.

"Whoa, you guys look totally sick," Kenny says. He lifts his mask so that it sits on top of his head pulling back some of his dirty blond hair, which is in dire need of a haircut.

"Kenny McCormick?" Butters' brows lift, as if he had expected to see anybody but Kenny dressed as Mysterion. After the surprise has subsided, Butters assumes a wide, young-looking grin and remarks, "Well, shit. I haven't seen you in over two years, mister. How're things up in South Park?"

"I don't live in South Park," Kenny responds, "I'm down in Denver with my sister."

"Oh yeah? Whatcha doin' these days?" asks Butters.

Kenny laughs lightly. He doesn't like being asked that question. It's the same when his bosses ask what he's doing with his life, like being young automatically makes you an impractical idealist. What is he doing? He's trying to make it through the fucking day. That's what he's doing. He pulls down his hood and scratches a hand through his long hair before answering, "A lot of working."

He doesn't ask Butters the same question, but he still chatters, "I've been goin' to school, down at DU? They have a real good business and hospitality program, and I'm thinkin' I'd like to open up a bakery, you know?"

"Uh, that's great, Butters," Kenny mumbles. He's more focused on how fucking fit Butters looks. He seems to have filled out a little more since high school, no longer being the skinny little gay kid that Cartman enjoyed picking on above all else.

Fuck.

Kenny is attracted to him.

"Hey, you wanna come with us to Wendy's?" Butters asks cheerily.

Kenny pulls back the spandex arm of his costume to check his watch and says, "It's only like ten thirty, dude. Isn't that too early for lunch?"

"We want to beat the rush," clips Dougie, who looks annoyed that he and Butters are wasting their time on a loser like Kenny, and that Butters invited Kenny to join them without discussing the matter with him beforehand.

Thus, just to annoy that tiny ginger asshole, Kenny smiles smoothly and replies, "Sounds great, man."

The Wendy's is across the street from the hotel, and the only other option within walking distance besides an Indian restaurant that Kenny refuses to patronize because the waiters hit on Karen two years ago (And not even creatively; Kenny appreciates a well-placed pickup line, but it should not be done with bouncing eyebrows by a man that looks well over forty).

Despite being ahead of the lunch rush, the Wendy's is still overwhelmed with people in costume. The cashier doesn't even blink when Kenny, Butters and Dougie move up to the counter, glowing armor, spandex and all. Kenny goes for some fries, figuring he should keep his purchase on the cheap, while Butters and Dougie get a baconator each. Butters explains cheerfully that they have a convention tradition of eating a baconator for every meal throughout the duration of the convention. Kenny thinks that this sounds fucking stupid and that they'll make themselves sick, but he doesn't say so.

He doesn't say so because of the internal debate inside his mind.

To proposition or not proposition Butters.

Butters is fucking attractive.

Over the tray of food, Butters glances up an catches Kenny's intent gaze. He looks confused at first, and then smiles like he always does. Kenny should have known that Butters wouldn't know what an "I want to fuck you" stare looks like.

Kenny sighs, and wonders if Butters has managed to get through two years of college without losing his virginity. Because if Butters still hasn't done the dirty, Kenny doesn't want to take that from him at a science fiction convention. He excuses himself after he's finished his fries to smoke a cigarette, standing next to a Klingon dude doing the same. When Butters and Dougie exit, Dougie gives Butters a salute and shakes his head, scowling at the sidewalk.

"What's up with him?" asks Kenny, staring after Dougie as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

Butters' brows furrow and he mutters, "You gotta be kidding me."

"What?"

"I thought you were giving me one of them stares back there," Butters mumbles, mashing his knuckles together with his brows stuck together like he's trying to figure out where he miscalculated, "Y-You looked at me like you g-gonna eat me up. Just fuckin' like me, too."

"Wait, hang on," Kenny grabs Butters arm and says, "Dude, I was definitely giving you a look."

"And I gave you the smile back," Butters says.

"The smile?"

Butters sighs, "Jesus. Lemme make sure we're on the same page. I thought you wanted to fuck me. If I'm wrong, I'm just gonna go find Dougie again."

The Klingon guy gives them an odd look, as if daring them to do even the slightest thing queer in front of him. Naturally, Kenny takes this as a challenge. He tugs Butters forward, and smashes their lips together. Butters makes a soft noise of surprise, and the noise goes straight to Kenny's dick. He wills his cock to cooperate with him for a few more minutes – getting an erection while wearing spandex pants seems ill-advised if he wants to maintain some semblance of dignity. Butters lips are soft, and taste like cherry chapstick over the taste of his meal. When Kenny tells him that he tastes like his baconator, Butters blushes and unsnaps one of the leather compartments on his utility belt, retrieving two sticks of gum, and offering one to Kenny. He may be decked out in steampunk armor, but at heart, he's still Butters Stotch.

They link their gloved hands together. The walk back to the hotel is torturous, especially as Butters keeps slipping in kisses. Kenny feels an almost embarrassed stirring in his gut at how much he's enjoying this, and how surprised he is by this change-but-not-change in Butters Stotch. He's still the same boy that Kenny knew, except that he isn't exactly a boy. He's older, and there's mischief in that smile where there wasn't before.

Butters takes Kenny to the room he's sharing with Dougie – it's guaranteed to be empty for the next three hours, he says, but that's all that Dougie promised to allow them. Kenny would rather take the three hours over the uncertainty of his own room, in which Tweek and Karen could pop up unexpectedly at any time, regardless of the "Do Not Disturb" door hanger.

When Kenny closes the door to the hotel room behind them, Butters leans down and swallows him whole. Now he tastes like wintergreen, something that seems much more Butters than a baconator. Something about the way that Butters armor sounds, metal scraping softly together when he shifts, makes Kenny breathe a little bit harder, and his blood pump a little bit faster. He smells like leather and strangely masculine shower gel, a combination that makes Kenny hard almost instantly when Butters strokes his tongue against the roof of Kenny's mouth.

Butters can feel it – of course he can. Spandex conceals nothing, and this round, Kenny will take advantage of it. He lifts his hips up and grinds himself against Butters, who moans a little into Kenny's mouth at the friction. His moans are so much deeper than Kenny would have expected.

Butters reaches down and palms Kenny through the thin fabric of his pants, rubbing the heel of his hand against the shape of Kenny's erection, all the way down to his balls. He moans into the kiss, tugging Butters in closer by gripping his helmet.

"Jesus, Butters," Kenny gasps, when he feels him tugging at the waistband of the pants, "Fuck. You really," – he groans when Butters grips him in a firm fist – "know what you're doing."

"Call me Chaos," Butters whispers, and before Kenny can even think of arguing with him, he nips down on Kenny's lower lip, just hard enough to make it sting and tease a whimper from deep in Kenny's throat.

Kenny decides to play along. Why not? Having sex with a super villain is actually kind of hot. He licks along Butter's neck, sucking down close to his ear, and breathily responds, "Only if I'm Mysterion."

A shudder reverberates through Butters and he grinds Kenny into the door, pulling his legs up as though he thinks he's in charge. Kenny holds back the noises begging to come out of him and pushes back, biting down on Butters' neck. He murmurs, "Not so fast, Chaos," and can't believe how much the power struggle is turning him on as he nudges Butters back to the queen-sized hotel bed, complete with ugly floral bedspread. It smells freshly laundered, and somehow the aroma against the leather and male scent of Professor Chaos makes Kenny feel as though he might burst.

Chaos moves to removes his helmet, but Kenny catches his wrists and pins him down to the mattress, commanding, "Leave it on."

He receives a groan and a nod in response, but just as Kenny thinks that he's got Chaos pinned under him for the rest of the experience, he's flipped onto his back, his captor wearing a salacious smirk above his head. He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic band of Kenny's purple pants and tugs them down. Kenny kicks off his boots to help the process along, though he doesn't know why he's aiding a super villain.

Chaos grins at Kenny, looking him up and down like he's somebody's dinner. His cock feels strained and heavy, curved up against his stomach. When Chaos lays eyes on it, he looks so hungry that Kenny's cowed back into letting him do what he likes. He licks his dry lips and dips in, licking a wet line along the tip of Kenny's erection.

Kenny bucks up before he realizes that his brain is becoming foggy with lust.

"I've got you now, Mysterion," Chaos says quietly, his breath ghosting against Kenny's cock, which is desperate to be paid attention to. He whines and thrusts up a little, wondering how the fuck Butters ever became this good at being a tease. He runs the flat of his tongue along the shaft – his mouth is hot and restless, and Kenny can feel him panting into the work. He ducks his head, taking it in about halfway before sucking like his life depends on it.

Kenny rears up again, groaning louder. He holds his gloved hand against his mouth, willing himself to be quieter. Giving into the temptation to moan with every movement of Chaos' head, every flick of his tongue, would be showing his weakness to the enemy. Kenny can't fuck up into Chaos' mouth, or he will know Mysterion's kryptonite.

He can't hold back, though.

He's trying, he's trying so fucking hard.

But Chaos gazes at him through his blue eyes as he takes Kenny in impossibly deeper. Kenny grunts and lets out a soft string of curses before he gives in – thrusting up and hitting the back of Butters' throat, mindlessly working to what his body wants him to do, while his brain is stuck on a reel of how how how how how did this kid learn to do this?

Just as Kenny is convinced that he's going to burst, Chaos pulls off of him with a grin. Kenny groans at the loss, but doesn't move when Chaos scoots from the mattress and stands. This could be it – Mysterion could take over, could dominate – but he's too far gone to manage it. He watches, mesmerized, as Butters does the buckles on his armor. He removes the leather and metal slowly, maybe because he's putting on a show, or maybe because he has to be gentle with it – either way, it stops Kenny's breath. He reaches down to tend to his erection, but Chaos surges forward and knocks his hand away, shaking his head like he's scolding a petulant child.

Chaos pulls away his pants when he's finished with his armor. Kenny waits for him to climb back up on top of him, but he doesn't – he disappears into the bathroom.

"Hey," Kenny protests.

He returns with that little bottle of hotel lotion, flipping it up into the air and catching it again, before he pulls himself up over Kenny. He captures Kenny's lips in for a kiss, still tasting of his gum, but there's a slightly salty tilt to it, the taste of Kenny.

Holy shit. He doesn't know how long he's going to last at this rate. He already feels full to bursting, like he could come at any minute. How embarrassing would that be – to come early when he's being teased by Professor Chaos.

He kisses down Kenny's throat. Though Kenny's eyes are closed, he hears the pop of the bottle of lotion being opened. He expects to feel it, to feel Butters' fingers tease against him, but he doesn't. He looks at last when he hears Chaos' breath catch.

"Oh, fuck," Kenny utters, before he can think.

Butters is reaching behind himself, inside himself, and working up a slow, practiced massage. His smile wobbles when he notices Kenny staring, mouth agape, at the spectacle.

And then Chaos makes noises – just tiny ones at first, barely audible whimpers and little pants of breath. He gets louder, and louder, as he works himself harder, plying with another finger. His cheeks are pink from exertion.

Fuck. He's enjoying this as much as Kenny is. He's just as entranced by Mysterion as Kenny is entranced by Professor Chaos.

"You g-got anything for, um," Chaos is stopped by the movement of his own fingers, drawing out a low moan.

"Yeah," is about all that Kenny can manage. Though pantsless, Chaos left Mysterion's utility belt in place (the mistake of an amateur villain, Kenny feels, though he supposes that today it works to their advantage). He pulls open one of the leather pouches and removes a length of three condoms, tearing off one. His hands are shaking when he pulls open the foil. Kenny throws his head back against the pillows as he rolls it over his cock, his own touch making him tingle and squirm.

Kenny reaches out to grip Chaos' hips, to tug him forward.

Chaos shakes his head again and shoves Kenny's arms back, pinning him with a single hand, still damp from lotion and smelling of sex. He grips Kenny at the base of his cock and spreads his legs a little wider, guiding him inside.

"Jesus Christ," Kenny gasps, his vision going funny at the tightening sensation. Butters is only halfway seated and he's afraid that he's going to come right fucking now. Kenny tears his wrists out of Butters' grip and grabs at his shoulders. It's hard to squeeze as much as he'd like with his gloves on.

Butters sinks down the entire way, and both of them make an inhuman noise of pleasure.

Chaos' cape opens around them as he braces himself with hands on Kenny's chest, moving his body slowly up and down in long, languid movements. Kenny wants it harder, wants it faster, but he doesn't know if he should calling any shots.

Fuck it. He surges upward, burying himself to the hilt. Chaos groans, looking a little teary-eyed. He rasps out above Kenny, "Do that again."

Kenny obeys. He fucks up as hard as he can, using as much strength as his body has and willing it all into quick, deep movements up inside Chaos. When Kenny moves his gloved fingers down to take Butters' cock in hand, he's slapped away again. Butters rubs himself, working at an erratic pace, mismatched to Kenny's own thrusts.

"Oh, s-shit," Chaos says. Kenny can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping against skin, but it's enough warning that he isn't surprised when Butters comes, spilling in ropes over Kenny's abdomen. Kenny follows a few short minutes later, burying himself one last time before he explodes, sweating and panting with Chaos' cape tangled around them.

Butters doesn't move, even as Kenny softens inside him. He keeps his hands braced on Kenny's chest and releases a sigh of satisfaction before he pulls away, collapsing onto the mattress and tucking their sides up together. Kenny knots up the condom and tosses it across the room, hitting the rim of the trashcan and missing. He doesn't care.

This is exactly what he needed. They're both fucked out of their minds, so much so that Kenny not only doesn't mind when Butters nudges himself forward and into Kenny's arms, but he tightens their grip around him. It's a little difficult to cuddle while being tangled in each other's capes, both with utility belts bumping together, but it's the most comfortable that Kenny has been in months.

"Damn," he mumbles, giving Butters a hazy smile, before he leans over and presses a kiss to Butters' brow. His nose bumps against Chaos' helmet.

They doze for awhile, wrapped up in the sheets and their capes, all sticky and exhausted. The whole room reeks of leather and sex – Kenny has a feeling that Dougie will be none too pleased with the shenanigans that have happened, even though he gave his permission for the use of the hotel room.

"Hey, Ken," murmurs Butters. Kenny's eyes flutter open and he looks over at the glowing red numbers on the bedside table. They've been out for a little under an hour.

"Mm."

"We should probably get going. I don't wanna miss the Quidditch panel," Butters says.

"Mm," Kenny repeats, but he doesn't move until he feels Butters shift away from him, leaving the bed cold, "Butters?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Can I get your number?" he asks.

From his place on the bed, Kenny can see that Butters brightens considerably at the idea of a cell exchange. A smile lights up his entire face, making him look a lot less like Professor Chaos and a lot more like the teenage kid that Kenny used to know.

Used to know – sort of. He never really bothered learning more than what was on Butters' surface.

Kenny wants to know him again, and this time, he wants to know him for real.