#goth!stan

Kyle snorted at his best friend and crossed the room to throw his arm over Stan's shoulders and snapped a photo. It came out blurry as Stan struggled in his grip.

"Ah come on Stan, you're no fun anymore. Come on, you can sing with me." Stan shoved Kyle off as Kyle was already moving to the karaoke machine. Kyle pressed a button on the machine that booted up a song immediately. Kyle tipped his shades down to look at Stan with green-tinted eyes as he pointed at Stan with one hand and held a microphone with his other as the first notes of his song began to play. Stan rolled his eyes once more as he scratched near his eyelid, shedding black eyeshadow in the process.

"Hey, baby girl, what you doin' tonight? I wanna see what you got in stooore~ Giving it your all when you're dancing on me-" Kyle rocked his hips in tune with the music which Stan stifled both a groan and a blush at the same time at that; very confusing.

-"I wanna see if you can gimme some more~ You can be my girl and I can be your man, and we can pump this jam however you waaant~ Pump it from the side pump it upside down-" Kyle lifted one leg onto the couch and started humping the air in tune to the song, to which Stan stood up abruptly and crashed into him to get him to stop.

"Alright alright alright! Quit it!" Stan clicked a button on the machine that paused the song, silence filling its place. Kyle tsked, disappointed as he threw his arms up.

"Dude it was getting good, what the fuck?! Turn it back on." Kyle pressed the button to turn the song back on, but the machine didn't respond. Kyle pressed it a few more times, to no avail, and kicked it out of frustration. "This shit's gahbage. Need to get a new one, it's been acting up lately."

"Or the machine just doesn't want to play your shitty-ass song. Here, I'll show you what real music is. Not this disgusting Disney pop trash." Stan programmed the machine to play a new song, and snagged the microphone from Kyle, but not without a flirtatious wink from Kyle first. Stan's cheeks burned an uncharacteristic red as the first few notes of the song began to play. He began to sing.

"Hey scene slut, I'm still cutting tonight. That's why my wrists are so sooore~" Kyle gave Stan a bewildered look as Stan kept going.

"I know you got a boyfriend, but you're a whore. Everybody drinking, shot glasses on the floor. We be clubbing all night, gimme some more-" Now it was Kyle's turn to shut off the machine. Stan petered out the last few words without the song's help and whirled around to face Kyle.

"Hey, what the hell? It was getting to the good part!" Stan asked angrily. Kyle put his hands on his hips and motioned to Stan.

"You call that music? They're talking about cutting themselves and whores for Christ's sake!" Kyle rose his voice while adjusting his shades, which riled Stan up as well.

"What about your song with you humping the damn air? That's not inappropriate?! Turn it back on, I said." Stan reached to turn the music back on the machine, but Kyle gripped his wrist before he could make it. Stan attempted to wrench his hand back but Kyle kept a firm hold on him.

"Hell no. We either listen to my music or not. I'm not catching your depression from your emo My Chemical Romance crap." That was Stan's final straw. With a growl, Stan launched himself at Kyle and took him to the floor. Kyle's shades and cap were knocked off his head as Stan straddled his hips. Stan knew he'd have to take the advantage as soon as possible because he did NOT have a physical advantage over Kyle. It was a part of the Jersey aesthetic for men to be ripped, and Kyle was indeed that while Stan was...not.

So Stan tore down Kyle's defenses the only way he knew how. Stan started scribbling his fingers in between the spaces of Kyle's lower ribs and sides; Kyle already bubbling up in laughter as he wriggled on the carpet.

"My music is not Emo you wanna-be Jersey Shore copycat. It's better than anything you've ever played!" Stan yelled, his black lipstick staining the corners of his mouth. It's been a while since he touched up his makeup, but that would have to wait. He would have to teach this lesson to Kyle quick before he tried any retaliation.

Kyle's red hair splayed on the carpet as he laughed and tried to grab Stan's wrists. "Pffmt- Stahahan! Stohohop thahat!" Funnily enough, in his laughing fit, his Jersey accent mysteriously disappeared. Kyle's eyes squinted as his smile took up his face; Stan's hand spidering his hard stomach. How could he have this many abs and still be so sensitive, Stan thought distantly.

"No, this is the only way you'll listen. You're not only calling my music Emo, but you also called it crap." Stan's next point was drowned out by Kyle's outpour of laughter as Stan kneaded an exceptionally mean thumb in Kyle's bare hip divet. Wearing his pajama pants so low had its consequences. Kyle's eyes were screwed shut as he was temporarily too weak to fight back."STAhahahan! Gehehehet ohohohoff!" Kyle yelled out and wriggled like a worm on a hook.

"Hmph, your fault for wearing your pants so low. I mean, who does that? It's like you're asking for this to happen. This is why your music and fashion tastes are questionable at best. See, if you would pay attention to any of the Goth Tiktoks I send you, we'd agree a lot more often." Stan grew way too comfortable with the situation in his position. He attempted to hold both of Kyle's wrists in one of his hands, which Kyle easily broke out of.

Kyle's hand shot out to start squeezing the closest part of Stan to him. It was Stan's knee that was exposed through his baggy jeans. Stan yelped and folded to the side, crumbling easily. Kyle popped up and dove in, causing Stan to shriek. Kyle's face was flushed and his curls bounced around his forehead while his fingers squished and kneaded into his best friend.

"W-Wahahait wahait waihait! No nohoho no I'm SAH-! I'm sohohohrry!" Stan fought to bring his knees up to his belly to protect himself, but Kyle found weak spots all over him. He squished Stan's sides, which made Stan cover his sides, and when his hands were out of the way he kneaded into his hips, causing him to squeal.

"Oh, talk about my accent leaving? You raised 3 octaves in your voice! I've never heard you so loud. You know maybe if you spoke up more often, I'd actually care about your opinion on my tastes." Kyle swung a leg around Stan's thighs to force one of them down and attacked his belly with one hand. Stan's tummy was definitely softer than Kyle's, with some chub around his belly button. Which just so happens to be ridiculously ticklish. Stan yelped as Kyle repeatedly squished the patch of chub over and over again.

"KYhyhyhyhle! Stohohohop stohohop stop! Nohohot thehehere!" Kyle was unfazed at his best friend's reaction. He knew when Stan really needed it to stop, and he wasn't nearly there yet.

"Huh, I wonder what would happen if I recorded this and sent it to your uppity black-clothed douchebag friends. You think they would kick you out of their dick-sucking club- GAH!" Stan didn't know how he did it, but he managed to wrench his grip out of Kyle's hold and shoved his hand up Kyle's armpit and started to scribble.

"Youhohohou ahahahasshole! Gehehehet ohohout of thehehere!" Kyle winced as Stan rose higher and shook his hand in the sensitive spot.

"Yeah? Well what if I recorded this and sent it to your orange spray-tanned "5-seconds-of-fame" seeking asshole friends and show them what a poser you are? I'm sure anyone THIS incredibly ticklish couldn't fit in-" Kyle reached forward and gripped Stan's hip and started to knead. Stan fell backward on the carpet of the living room like a felled tree. Kyle smirked at how easy it was to disarm his friend.

"You're one to talk aren't you, huh Cabbage? Well, you won't be talking in a second." Kyle's chain escaped his tank top as he thrust forward and started squishing into Stan's belly. Stan shrieked a manly sound as he started to curl up into his defensive ball.

"Shuhu-ahahaha! Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup!" Stan yelled out. Kyle snorted at Stan's attempt at being intimidating. Stan reached out and did what he could. Kyle's chain glinted in his eye as he grabbed the cross and yanked it off Kyle's neck. Stan kept it in a tight grip in his fist and raised it above his head.

Now it was Kyle's turn to roll his eyes as he simply started scratching his fingers in Stan's armpit. Stan instinctively shot his elbow down to save himself as Kyle attempted to pry his fingers open.

"Give that back asshole! It's my only Ed Hardy chain!" As Kyle was distracted trying to get his chain back, Stan reached forward and scribbled his fingers in Kyle's ribs. Kyle winced as he tried his hardest to ignore it, but he couldn't ignore his side getting squished. Kyle let go of Stan's hand and angrily squished Stan's kneecap to get back at him, to which Stan yelped and kicked his leg out reflexively. His Converse-covered foot kicked the glitchy karaoke machine.

Both Stan and Kyle stopped respectively at the loud clank; their hearts beating wildly in their chests. The machine made some whirring sounds, like recording and re-recording and wires getting crossed. Suddenly, a song started to play. The last two songs that were recently played on the machine glitched into one melody.

"Hey baby girl what you doin' tonight?"

"Hey scene slut, I'm still cutting tonight."

"I wanna see what you got in stooore~"

"That's why my wrists are so sooore~"

Kyle looked to Stan; his makeup smeared and his hair tousled. He lost his beanie somewhere in the fight. Stan looked to Kyle, his tank top half drug up and his hair a mess. Stan silently handed Kyle over his chain and shrugged his shoulders.

"This song actually..." Stan started.

He hated when Butters did that. It made his entire circulatory system ache every time. It also didn't help that it was just plain weird. Raven wasn't a particularly tasty slice of cake. There was no need to moan.

No matter how much Butters claimed to the contrary.

“But you taste real good, Raven!” Butters chirped, waving the smoke away. He rocked forward to wrap his arms back around his middle, but Raven took a step out of his reach.

Pulling from his pocket a large bandaid, Raven doctored up the bite mark. Butters looked away from Raven over his shoulder, lip out in a childish pout, at the trees. Usually Raven gave Butters twenty minutes to drink as much as he needed to get by. After breaking the no moaning rule this time, he’d only had eight.

It would be enough until Saturday. In the months since this all started, Raven had figured out how much  Butters had to take to get by. He had it down to a science at this point. The full twenty minutes was just Raven being nice and letting Butters take a break every few minutes to jabber on about whatever was on his mind.

Raven pressed the bandaid to the bite with a wince before beginning to readjust his shirt. He’d have to wear his jacket zipped all the way up again. How many times had he told Butters to bite lower down on his shoulder? It might have been farther from the artery in his throat, but it was so much easier to hide.

“I’m only good because I’m all you have,” Raven muttered.

Butters hummed to himself. “Nah, that ain't it. You just taste good, better than some of the other people I’ve had.”

“You’ve had, like, two other people, one of which was Eric Cartman. It’s not much competition.” Raven stole a step back to slide down the side of the concrete barrier to the ground.

Apparently, when Butters was first turned, he tried to ignore his hunger, but it grew too strong for him and started to cloud his mind. Seeing Cartman through an unlocked window, he acted out of instinct instead of thought.

Somehow Cartman being one of Butters ‘victims’ seemed fitting to Raven. Cartman had always been pushing Butters around, bullying and tricking him. Raven figured sooner or later Butters would snap and somehow get revenge on his bully. Honestly, Raven wasn't sure how Butters hadn't gone out of his way to get back at all the people who were mean to him in elementary school. He had the power to do it, but his good heart must have held him back.

Butters stuck out his tongue. “Eric tasted like lard — lard, rot, whip cream, and cheesy poofs. It was icky.”

“What about your ex-friend?” Raven took a drag. “How’d he taste?”

He hadn’t gotten Butters to spill whom the friend he had a falling out with was. He had, however, narrowed it down to either being Kyle Broflovski or Kenny McCormick. They were both old friends with Butters and, as far as Raven could remember, good enough people who would be willing to help Butters out — for a preppy know it all and a dirty pervert, anyway.

“Oh, he was interesting.” Butters looked up at the dreary sky. “Tasted like cherry, not real cherry, though, the fake kind they put in Poptarts, and something else. The something else was good, really good, but icky at the same time. Like...” He screwed up his face in thought, "grill steak and burnt bread.”

Raven tried to imagine that taste, but couldn’t get all the flavors to cross. He nearly asked what he tasted like, but the school bell cut him off before he could open his mouth.

Butters jumped to his feet. “Math class time!” He said in a sing-song voice.

Raven rolled his eyes. Butters, the vampire dork, who lived for math class that was his friend. Butters was an A-plus student in hall his math courses, though.

Raven heard somewhere that vampires had a tendency to count out everything. In days long past, that was how scared villagers would keep vampires in their graves: filling the grave up with tiny seeds that the vampires would have to count before they could leave. He’d wondered if Butters’ vampiric nature made his mind better at math or if he was already good at it before. Maybe it was both.

“I’ll consider heading to class when my eyes aren’t freakish,” Raven made a point to jab a finger towards his eyeballs. A side effect of being a vampire’s blood bag, his irises were tinged red for at least fifteen minutes after every feeding.

As Goth as it looked, it was a pain in the ass to explain away. Besides, if he had to deal with those emo brats gawking over his eyes being so ‘edgy’ and ‘cool’, he was going to vomit. At least being a Vamp Kid, Butters could pretend his weird red eyes were fancy contact lenses or something.

Butters smiled apologetically then leaped off the barrier. He landed on his toes with more grace than a normal human could ever muster. Butters took two steps, then stopped, spun back around and retraced his steps.

After digging in his pockets, he crouched down. “I only gotta ten today.” He slipped the bill into Raven’s hand. His fingers were warm, almost unnaturally so, against his palm.

Raven shrugged, then slipped his cigarette behind his ear. After running his tongue across his lips, he set a hand on Butters cheek, then leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips.

This part of their private time started as a joke. A month in, Raven commented he should start charging for his services. A moment after he had said that, Butters asked him how much would he charge for something like a kiss or a hug.

Thinking Butters was playing along, Raven jokingly replied, “Five for a hug, ten for a kiss, twenty-five for frenching, fifty for a handjob, and for a hundred, I’m yours for the night.”

He’d never expected Butters to take him seriously, but the very next Wednesday, Butters showed up with fifteen dollars that he blushingly pushed into Raven’s hands for one kiss on the cheek and a bear hug

Sometimes, Raven worried Butters would actually show up with twenty-five or more, but that had ever been the case. The closest he came was showing up with two tens to get four hugs. Raven wasn’t sure if his restraint came from respect or the fact he always spent his allowance the moment he got it. Either way, Raven was almost guaranteed at least five dollars four times a week just for showing Butters a little physical affection.

Butters giggled, his face pleasantly flushed. “Thank you for that!”

Raven grunted. “Whatever. Head to class. Can’t be a cog of society’s death machine if you can’t do arithmetic.”

Butters bobbed his head. “Right!” He exclaimed, a little too happily, as he jumped back to his feet.

“See you at the graveyard on Saturday,” Raven raised his cigarette towards him.

Butters paused a moment then offered, “If you want, we can have a sleepover at my house on Saturday. We could stay up all night playing games and then you could sleep in on Sunday, instead of going to church.”

“I’ll think about it,” Raven stated as if he hadn’t replied that exact same way every Friday when Butters asked him. Butters beamed then finally spun around to head back to class.

Raven ground his cigarette against the earth before reaching to pull another out of his pack.

In truth, Raven was not completely against the idea of a sleepover, but at the same time, the thought made his stomach churn.

He didn’t want to risk putting a name to their relationship.

Raven wasn't sure where he and Butters stood at this point. It wasn't that they weren't friends. On the contrary, Raven didn't think it was possible to have another man's lips on your neck willingly every other day for five months without some positive emotions turning up.

He just wasn't sure if his affections went as far as “crush” or “romantic love”, but they definitely were growing less and less platonic with every passing day. Sometimes, Raven wondered if they were platonic at all anymore.

At first, he chalked the positive emotions up to pity. He felt bad that someone who, really, wasn't all that terrible, was stuck spending his time with those douchebags, pseudo prep, Gothic subclass losers.

Since Raven started paying attention to Butters, he'd noticed that Butters just barely sat on the fringe of the Vamp Kids anyway. He rarely talked to them, and they rarely talked to him.

To Raven, it seemed that Butters just hung around with them so he wouldn't have to be physically alone.

But as time passed, Raven found his pity answer having less and less truth in it. He really did just enjoy Butters company, just like he had all those years ago. Even dyed in all black, Butters was a breath of fresh air from the heavy mausoleum air that hung around himself and the other Goths.

He put his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled.

If only he could piece together how Butters felt about the situation.

To Butters, were the butterfly kisses and hugs just a fill-in to actual romantic love? Was that why he never brought enough cash to go any farther? Was he too scared to risk his secret by getting close to anyone else? Was he using Raven as a stand-in for the girlfriend he wished he had?

No, Raven refused to spend an entire night alone with Butters. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he found out he was just a substitute for something Butters couldn’t have.

~~~~

His mom's car wasn't in the driveway, but his dad's car was.

Raven cringed. Instead of walking into the house, he made his way to the garage.

The kittens had long since been adopted out to good homes, so there was no greetings of mewls this time.  As Raven sat down on a box, he couldn't help but smile to himself.

Butters wanted to “apologize” to the kittens for murdering their mother, so every night for a week straight he came in and left them little gifts of food in an attempt to gain their forgiveness.

It never worked. The kittens still hissed at and hid from him when he came by every time until they were adopted out.

It was almost as funny to watch as the time when Pete and Henrietta attempted to paint the kittens' claws black.

Raven dropped his bag beside him then began to tap against his phone. At least one of his friends had to answer. If he had an excuse, he could just pop into the house, dump his shit, then head out — the less time with his dad, the better.

He already knew Henrietta was a no-go. Her little brother was coming from out of town to visit, and she had to stay home. Firkle was probably still sick with whatever flu or cold was going around the elementary, so he didn't bother texting him either. That left Pete and Michael. He texted Michael first since Michael lived closer.

A few moments later, he answered, “sorry. babysitting. kill me now.”

Raven replied with a frowning face and four pistol emoji. He sent Pete a text next, asking what his plans for the night were. Pete’s trailer might be farther away, but Raven wasn’t above walking there in the cold.

He pressed himself against the corner made by the wall and a shelf, waiting for Pete to reply back when the door to the house opened.

His dad peeked in, looking around until his eyes landed on Raven. Raven tried to stand so he could make a quick escape, but his dad was faster this time and made it over to him first, leaving Raven boxed in.

“Hey, son, how’s it hanging?” His dad asked in that tone he used when he wanted to talk about something uncomfortable.

“Just waiting for death, like always,” Raven muttered deadpan, praying Pete would text back soon.

“Oh.” His dad took a breath, then let it out in a low whistle. “You know, Raven, I think we need to have a talk.”

Raven flinched back. “About what?”

His dad looked everywhere else but him as he said, “You know, stuff.”

Raven wanted to die. He didn’t want to talk about ‘stuff’; he wanted to be left alone. His dad had his opportunity to make a deep bond with Raven years ago, and he squandered it with snide remarks about adding color to Raven’s outfit and wishing his Goth ‘phase’ would hurry up and go away so he could 'have his son back’.

His dad heaved a sigh. “Look, Raven, I just want to make sure you're being safe, ok?”

“Safe? Safe with what?” Raven set his jaw. Did he mean his knife? Or how he walked home in the dark? His dad never cared before, not until his mom flipped out on him about it after the night with the cat, anyway. Was that why he was doing this? Had his mom made him? Seemed a little late to be trying to be a good parent.

“Safe with, uh, well, you know, safe.” His dad scratched the back of his neck.

“If you’re not going to be clear about it, then just go.” Raven looked pointedly down at his phone, trying to urge Pete’s text to come.

His dad groaned. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and held out a thin, foil square.

Raven's eyes grew wide at the offered condom.

“I’ve seen the hickeys on your neck, son. I just want to make sure you and your little girlfriend aren’t doing anything that you two might regret.”

Raven’s mouth gaped open, his face going completely red. “I, I don’t — it’s not like that!” He pulled up his jacket collar until it touched his chin. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Dad.”

Realization flashed across his dad’s face. “Oooooh.” He nodded. “Well, if you and your boyfriend are doing stuff, you still need to be safe. STDs don't discriminate, Raven.”

Raven sputtered, but couldn’t for the life of him make a coherent sentence.

With a soft smile, his dad crouched down beside him then slung his arm over his shoulder.

“You know, it’s ok if you’re gay, son,” He promised. “I love you, either way. I just want you to be happy, and if being with a boy makes you happy, then I’m all for it.”

For the first time in a long time, something warm towards his dad welled up in Raven’s chest. When was the last time his dad had been this supportive of anything in Raven's life?

He might not have been completely right about it, as Raven still liked more than just boys, but it was a step in the right direction.

“I’d rather you be decked out in rainbows than all black, anyway.”

And then he took forty steps back.

With a cry of frustration, Raven shouldered his dad’s arm off him and stomped to his feet.

“Why do you always have to make it about you!?” Raven screamed. He stormed past him out of the garage.

“Stan, get back here!” His dad shouted after him.

Raven spun around and yelled back, “It’s Raven, you selfish fuck!” Without another word, Raven turned on his heels and ran.

~~~~~

It was dark, the wind was freezing, his phone was dead, and his eyes stung from crying.

What a way to spend a Friday night.

Raven pulled his knees to his chest then leaned against the plastic half sphere. He looked the eight feet down to the softwood chips that covered the ground around the playsets.

Another sob tried to force itself out of his throat, and he swallowed it down.

He could use a cup of coffee right now. That Tweak place was near the playground, wasn’t it?

He considered heading there but decided against it. He wanted to be warm but refused to go into such an ungoth place.

Or, that's what he tried to convince himself.

In truth, he just didn't want to risk running into anyone who knew him there. The Tweak's son was in his class, and all Tweek's friends hung around there on Fridays. The last thing he needed was a bunch of people hovering around him asking why he was upset.

No, he’d rather just suffer in the cold. Maybe he’d freeze overnight.

He curled into a tighter ball, burying his face in his arms.

Why couldn’t his dad just understand this was who he was? He didn’t want to play sports anymore or be the homecoming king. He was happy as a Goth, as paradoxical as that seemed.

His mom understood. His sister understood. Why can’t his dad?

A biting wind cut through his jacket. A few snowflakes slapped against his red cheeks.

Raven shuddered. He really was going to freeze if he stayed out here. Standing up, Raven looked towards the rest of the town. Henrietta’s place was closest, but the lights were all out at her house. She was still out with her family.

He turned, straining fruitlessly to try and see through the trees towards Michael's.

Even if Michael was home, Raven didn’t want to deal with Michael's siblings gawking over him and trying to rope him into playing with them. Firkle was sick, and Pete lived across town.

Setting his lips into a line, he let his eyes move to another house, just a few down from his own.

He took a breath and began to crawl off the playset.

~~~~~

Raven rubbed his arms as he stood in front of Butters’ front door. The snow started to fall down in thick heavy sheets on the walk over. The covering of white made it easy to sneak past his house but at the cost of freezing his extremities.

He reached up and knocked. It only took a few moments before the door opened.

“Raven?” Butters’ face burst out into a wide smile. “Well, howdy! What brings you here?”

“Sleepover.” Raven shivered. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”

“Oh, yeah! Come in! Get warmed up! I’ll get you some cocoa.” Butters ushered Raven inside. His hand lingered a moment too long on his arm before he pulled it away.

Butters rushed towards the kitchen, leaving Raven standing awkwardly in his living room.

Butters’ mother sat on the couch, an infomercial playing as she fiddled on her phone. His father was seated at the table reading over a newspaper. Raven didn't remember much of Butters' parents from when they were eight, though some far off recollection he couldn't fully grasp left a sour taste in his mouth. They weren't the nicest, he remember that much, at least.

When neither of them looked up or greeted Raven, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd taken. Something about them seemed off, but Raven couldn’t put his finger on how. Thought if it meant he didn't need to talk to them he was fine with letting the oddness slide. He would rather spend that time trying to blood flow back to his fingers anyway.

Just as the feeling returned to Raven's digits, Butters came back with a steaming mug in his hand. He pressed it into Raven’s grasp.

“Follow me,” He waved him towards the stairs. Halfway up, Butters leaned over the railing to call, “Raven is staying for a while. Maybe the whole night. We’ll be good though, so don’t worry.”

For the first time, Butters parents turned and looked at Raven. There was a subtle red haze around their eyes. Raven wasn't sure if they were really seeing him though or just acknowledging what their son had told them.

“Oh, welcome, Raven,” Mr. Stotch greeted. He sounded like prerecorded message. “You two have fun.”

Butters agreed, “We will, Dad.” He looked to Raven to ask, “Are you hungry? Mom can bring us some snacks if we ask.”

Raven nearly declined, but he hadn’t eaten since lunch hours ago. Instead, he just nodded. Butters then turned and called to his mother to bring something up for them to eat a little later. She said she would, then Butters led Raven up the stairs to his room.

He spun around as Raven entered.

“Well, what do you think of my ‘crypt’?” His eyes searched his face for positive affirmation of his decor choices.

Raven looked around. It was just a normal room, a bed, a dresser, a desk, a shelf, posters on the walls, and toys scattered about. Nothing really stood out as abnormal. save for some rubber bats hanging from the fishing wire by the windows, anyway. Sometimes Raven forgot Butters was suppose to be a dorky Vamp Kid until little bits of their subculture poked through like this.

Instead of commenting on the extreme dorkness of the bats, Raven walked around, pausing to look at all the knick-knacks and pictures on the shelf. When he passed the dresser, he stopped to peer into the cage settled there. Attached with clothespins, a note card with glitter and stickers on it labeled the creatures within as 'Evil Minion 1’ and 'Evil Minion 2’ and 'Miss Alice Cullen.’

A small brown and white hamster poked its head out from under a fake log. It eyed Raven for a moment then crawled back under after deeming him uninteresting. The other hamsters didn't even bother to come out from hiding to examine him.

“You can take a seat on the bed if you want, or the desk chair,” Butters offered when Raven stepped away from the cage.

Raven took a seat on the bed, sipping his cocoa. It was watery but hot, so he didn’t complain.

“Thanks, Butters.” Raven leaned scooted until his back rested against the wall. His arm brushed against the thick blackout curtains that covered the window. Butters claimed that, while direct sunlight didn’t hurt him, it made him itchy and tired.

“So, whatcha doing out in weather like this?” Butters hopped down on the bed. “The weather report said it was gonna be a snowstorm.”

Raven stared down into his drink a moment before muttering, “Got into a fight with my dad. I don’t want to head home, and didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Butters made a small sound of surprise before scooching to Raven’s side. He set a hand on his knee and offered a small, reassuring smile. Raven eyed his face a beat, then smiled back.

They stayed in silence. Raven greatly appreciated this. If it had been the other Goths, they would be biting at the bit to hear what happened, then proceed to bash his dad and his actions.

Any other time, Raven would be fine with that and feel validated, but not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to sit and warm up in the quiet of his thoughts.

The silence was broken sometime later when someone knocked on the door.

Mrs. Stotch peeked in.

“I made you boys some popcorn.” She pushed open the door. In her hands was a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn. Mrs. Stotch set the bowl on Butters’ desk then asked, “Do you want anything else? Have you have dinner yet, Raven?”

Her voice sounded a little too automated for Raven to reply with more than a shake of the head.

“I’ll cook you up something,” She said, then left.

As Butters went to retrieve the popcorn, Raven asked, “Ok, what is, like, up with your parents?”

Butters shrugged. “They’re being good parents. Caring, loving, respecting.” He turned back and his good eye flashed red. “Like I told them to be.”

He set the bowl in Raven’s lap before taking his seat again. Raven took a hand full and greedily shoved it into his mouth. He really had been hungry. No amount of angst and anger could cover that.

Around the popcorn, he said, “Oh, right. That persuade thing. I forget you can do that. You never do it around me, and you seem a little too nice to make someone do something they wouldn't want to anyway."

Butters pulled his legs up to cross them. He looked to the left like he was embarrassed. “Yeah, I don't like to use it. It's tiring and makes me feel kind of like a mean old bully if I use it on nice people. That's why Mom and Dad are the only ones I use that power on.” He smiled solemnly down at his hands. “It took becoming an unholy, blood-drinking monster to finally get my parents to respect me and treat me right. Kind of ironic, huh?”

There was a touch of sorrow in his laughter. Raven didn’t point it out. Of course Butters wouldn't use his power on normal, good people. His heart was too kind for that.

That sour taste filled his mouth again. A few more memories of Butters parents yelling and scolding their son in front of everyone rose up from the depths of Raven's mind,  Butters wouldn't use his power on good people, but his parents weren't good people. They never had been.

“You’re not a monster, Butters,” Raven told him after swallowing down the taste. “You’re just different.”

Butters’ cheeks went pink, and he looked away. “Ah, shucks, Raven. It’s ok. I know I’m a monster. I accepted that a long time ago. Besides,” he grinned, “if I wasn’t, I wouldn't have become best friends with you again.”

Raven’s heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly remembered why he’d never taken Butters up on any of his sleepover offers.

Butters’ brow knit together.

“Raven, you ok? Your heart is beating like crazy. Is it because I called us ‘best friends’? I'm sorry if I offended you about it, but you are. You're my very favorite person.” He beamed at Raven and made Raven's heart beat even faster.

Raven felt his throat clench as he looked at Butters' soft, round face smiling right at him. Any solely platonic feelings he held evaporated away with the heat of his blush.

Butters, the kind, sweet, chatty ray of sunlight, thought Raven was his best friend, his very favorite person.

Did that mean Butters liked him back then? Could this be the foundation of something so much more?

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Raven made a snap decision.

“Do you have a quarter?” He blurted out. His volume took them both by surprise.

“Um, yes? I think so.” Butters rolled over to his bedside table and began to search the drawers. As he did, Raven swallowed down the rest of his cocoa then set the cup and bowl of popcorn carefully on the window sill.

The snow came down just as thickly as before, maybe even more so. It covered the road to the point it was impossible to tell where the sidewalk ended and the street began.

“Got one!” Butters announced as he held up the coin. Raven held his hand flat to take the quarter. Butters dropped it in his hand.

“Alright, just for tonight, I’m giving you a deal,” Raven said as he closed his fist around the coin. “Ninety-percent off the original price.”

Butters cocked his head to the side. Raven watched him do the calculations in his head for a few heartbeats before Raven’s offer clicked. His eyes grew wide.

“Raven, you...” His voice puttered out. He took a shaking breath, looking away, “Ha-ha, um, not to be rude, but a quarter wouldn't be ninety-nine off of fifteen.”

"It's not off of fifteen. It's off twenty-five."

Butters mouth opened into a large o-shape before he laughed again. "I don't think that's quite right either, math-mathemat...tical...ly...errr." His knuckles bumped against each other in front of him. He didn't turn his gaze up at Raven. He didn't look upset, only flustered.

“Either way, that’s my offer. Take it or leave it.” Raven pocketed his payment. He didn’t plan on giving it back, no matter what he chose.

“Take it! I take it!” Butters lunged forward, planting his hands on either side of Raven. Their faces were inches apart. From the end of his nose to the tips of his ears, every part of Butters' face was red. Raven's face wasn't much better.

As Butters moved in to press their lips together, Raven raised his hand and put it between them.

“I have one question.” He took a breath. “No matter what you say, we can still make out or whatever, I don’t care, but I have to know.”

“What is it?” Butters asked, falling to his knees.

“Do you like me? Like, not as a friend. Is that why you keep paying me for hugs and kisses? Or is it because I’m your only option?” He braced himself for the impending disappointment.

Butters’ lips twitched up before he snickered into his hand. “Well, of course, I like you more than a friend! I wouldn't pay for kisses if I didn’t. I just wasn't sure if you liked me back, you know? I mean, golly, Raven, you’re really handsome and down to earth, and you're the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, even to a nasty, old, cat killer like me. What isn’t there to like?”

A weight Raven hadn’t realized he was carrying fell from his shoulders. He lowered his hand a few inches, before slipping it around Butters’ head and pulling him close.

The kiss was different from every other they shared.  This wasn’t a peck on the lips where they both held back their feelings. This had emotion behind their lips and Raven loved it. Butters lips were warm and soft and he never pushed himself too hard onto Raven. In fact, it was Raven who kept pulling him closer.

He found himself almost wanting to risk blacking out from loss of oxygen rather than end their deep, if somewhat clumsy, kissing.

Finally, he pushed Butters back by the shoulder, panting. In the end, his lungs won and he had to breathe again.

Butters seemed unaffected by the lack of air. His eyes sparkled and a goofy grin spread across his face. He wiped the saliva off his chin as Raven reached up to do the same to his own.

“Can we do that again? I have another quarter.” He started to twist around, but Raven shook his head.

“You don’t have to pay any more,” Raven told him.

“I don’t?” Butters practically shook with excitement. “That’s so great! So we can do that again, right? Can we kiss outside of my room? Like at school, or are we going to pretend we don’t know each other still?”

Raven thought on that a moment. A vamp kid like Butters and a hardcore Goth like Raven dating would cause a real stir amongst both their social circles. With any luck, he might be able to convince his friends that Butters was at least softcore Goth enough to be worthy of joining them.

As for what the vamp kids would say about it, well, Raven didn’t care. They can get along with drinking their Clamato juice and writing their Twilight fanfiction without Butters around.

“It’s whatever.” Raven raised a shoulder. “I don't care, and if I ask them, my friends — ” He winced, suddenly remembering his phone was dead. Now that he thought about it, his mom was probably worried too, and his dad was probably feeding her lies how Raven was overreacting and his dad wasn't being a complete ass.

“Butters, can I borrow a charger?” Raven pulled his phone out of his pocket. “My mom doesn’t know where I am. I don’t want her calling the police.”

Butters nodded, handing Raven his own phone, then took Raven’s from his hand. As Butters searched off the side of the bed for the charging cord, Raven dialed his mom’s number. It rang twice before she answered.

“Hey, Mom,” Raven said before she could speak.

“Raven! Oh, thank God, you’re ok!”

“Yeah, I’m at Butters’, um, the Stotch’s.” Raven crossed his legs. “It started snowing really hard, and Butters invited me in.” He caught Butters’ attention with a wave, making sure he knew the lie they were sticking to.

“So you’re alright? You’re not hurt?”

“No, Mom.” He took a breath. “Physically, I’m fine.”

From the other end of the line, Raven heard his mom shout the news. He heard his sister call him a ‘turd,’ but there was affection behind the muffled insult. He heard a few other voices he knew, like his Uncle Jimbo and Ned, but he didn't, however, hear his dad's through the din.

“Hey, is Dad there?” Raven asked.

“He is, in the living room, calling your friends. Do you want to talk to him?”

Raven wrinkled his nose up in disgust. “Hell no. I wanted to see if you could hold off telling him I’m safe. He deserves to feel horrible after all his bullshit.”

A heartbeat of silence then his mom questioned, “What did he do?”

Raven scoffed, “Same as always. He was a selfish prick.”

An exasperated sigh came through the phone. His mom knew how her husband acted all too well and didn’t need an elaboration more than that.

“I’ll talk to him,” She promised, though Raven knew nothing would change. “The storm is getting worse outside. Are the Stotches ok with you staying over tonight? Let me talk to an adult.”

Raven covered the phone with his hand. Butters simply nodded. He could hear the whole conversation as it happened. After shuffling off the bed, he darted to the door.

“Mooooooom,” He called, “can you come up here? Mrs. Marsh wants to talk to you on the phone.”

A few moments later, Mrs. Stotch stood in the door, Butters’ phone to her ear.

“Really, Sharon, it’s no trouble. No trouble at all,” She assured. “Raven can stay as long as he wants. I’m happy that Butters is spending time with a sweet boy like your son.”

“Ah, Mom,” Butters muttered, more to himself than to her. Raven wasn’t sure he would call ‘embarrassing your son’ good parenting. Maybe that was what Butters thought parenting entailed. Or maybe his powers didn’t go as far as Raven had thought.

Once their moms came to an agreement that Raven would stay until tomorrow when the storm was over, Mrs. Stotch passed the phone back to Raven. His own mom told him to behave, be safe, and that she loved him.

He told her he loved her too, refusing to meet Butters eyes as he did so, then hung up.

Mrs. Stotch clasped her hands in front of her. “I need to get back to the kitchen.” She began to leave, only to pause and look over her shoulder. The haze that hung in her eyes faded for just a moment, and in the most human, and authoritative, voice Raven had heard from her, she ordered, “You two keep your hands to yourselves, young men.”

With that, she left.

Butters actually looked surprised. “Huh.” He said. “She actually did some good parenting on her own. That’s unusual.” Butters pressed his side against Raven's, kissing under his ear.  “Too bad I ain’t gonna listen.”

He paused, lips still pressed against Raven’s skin, before nervously asking, “If you’re alright with that.”

Raven turned his head then gave Butters a peck on the forehead. He wrapped an arm around his waist before resting his cheek against his hair.

Of course, this was all right with him. Might as well give his dad some real hickeys to flip shit over anyway.

~~~~

When Raven turned his phone back on a few hours later, he was bombarded with message after message, demanding to know where he was, if he was alive, and threatening him with violence if he was dead.

Ignoring the ones from his family, and flat out deleting those from his dad, Raven went to the Goth group chat.

“I’m alive. Fucking Dad was being an asshole and I left and my phone died. Sorry for worrying you.”

He didn’t think the last apology was all that Goth, but it seemed appropriate nonetheless.

Firkle was the first to reply.

“I’m getting you that replacement knife and stabbing you in the still beating heart.” His text held no emoji or indication he was joking. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t.

Michael and Henrietta’s messages came at the same time.

“what did ur dad do this time?” Asked Michael’s.

“Where are you now?” Was Henrietta’s.

Leaning against Butters, Raven replied, “He was a being a dick, as usual. And I’m at,” here, Raven paused in his typing to look at Butters. Butters was playing some point and click game with a cheerful anthropomorphic frog waving its arms in the corner. The game didn’t seem particularly hard, and Butters looked like he was enjoying himself.

“my boyfriend’s,” he finished, then sent the message.

That is what they were now. They both agreed on it a half hour ago. Raven Marsh and Butters Stotch were boyfriends. It still felt a little weird to wrap his head around, but he couldn't say he was displeased with this label on them.

At this point Pete joined the chat, being the first to see the message.

“Gross,” He sent, and Raven felt his heart sink until his second message came, “Who would want to date your sorry, flat ass? lmao”

Raven chuckled, earning a sideways look from Butters.

“Butters, you show up in selfies, right?” Raven asked.

Butters nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Yup!”

“Good.” Raven slipped his arm around Butters’ shoulders then held the phone at an angle above them. Butters flashed a smile while Raven’s lips turned up just a fraction.

“Are you gonna put fun filters on it? I know a site you can put a sparkly filter that makes everyone look like an anime character,” Butters suggested brightly.

Raven sent the selfie. Never breaking eye contact with Butters as he did so. Sparkly filters weren’t Goth, and a sparkle filter on a Vamp Kid would be a little too on the nose.

Everyone’s reply to the selfie came all at once, talking over each other as much as they could in a text-based conversation.

“WTF”

“You have fucking weird tastes, Rav.”

“is that a VAMP kid?”

“is he paying you?”

“Dude of all the people”

“That’s my brother’s friend”

“Why a douchy vampire wannabe?”

“who played that hello kitty game.”

Raven rested his head on Butters’ shoulders. “Butters isn’t that bad once you get to know him. I like him. He's cute and very nice. You'll like him too.”

He hoped his friends took the hint. He would be bringing Butters around regardless. Butters deserved better than those weirdos he hung around with now. At least his friends would talk to him and include him in their conversations. Raven would make sure that happened himself.

 “Is this going to be a Romeo and Juliet thing? Are you two going to die at the end? I’ll supply the poison.”  Henrietta sent.

“Can I stab Rav then?” Pete asked.

“i think hes supposed to stab himself,” Michael commented

“Do I die in this?” came Firkle’s reply. "Hope so.”

Raven relaxed. If they were wholly against the idea of Butters joining them, they weren’t going to make their feelings known in the chat.

“Butters, do you want to start sitting with me and my friends at lunch?” He asked offhandedly.

Butters looked up in surprise. “Golly, would they be ok with that? I don’t think they like me much...” His expression held more discontent than disappointment. Considering The Goths — Raven included — had often mocked both Butters and the Vamp Kids, Raven couldn’t say he found that too shocking.

“They’ll like you. I can see you have a Goth side in you. We just need to scrape off the bats and vampire shit.”

“You can’t get all of it, but you can sure try,” Butters said with a smile and laugh. He then added, “And, if you think they’ll like me there, sure! I’d love to sit with you! We can hold hands in the lunch line, and I can carry your tray for you!” His eyes sparkled.

Raven almost burst his bubble that, no, Butters would not be carrying his tray, when Butters continued with, “It’ll sure be swell to sit with people who actually want to talk to me for once.”

Raven let out a suppressed sigh through his nose, before nodding. Maybe having your boyfriend carry your tray for you was more of a preppy relationship mood than a Goth one, but he supposed he could allow it. He would just need to remember to bring a large book or something with him so it looked like his hands were too full to carry it himself.

More than satisfied, Butters when back to his game and Raven adjusted himself against his shoulder.

At least his worries were put to rest, for a few hours. Once he had to go home, his life would be a nightmare. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout. He didn’t want to admit he had a boyfriend to his whole family and answer all the questions that would bring. He really didn’t want to have his Dad mutter forced apologies that to he was expected to return. He would so much rather stay at Butters, doing nothing and enjoying each others company.

Instead of dwelling on that, Raven sent a message to the Goth chat that he would be going to bed then idly watched Butters play on his laptop.

The frog in this mini-game was playing a swamp themed version of Pong, and Butters was beating it with ease. Raven's eyes wandered down to Butters’ hands as they zipped lightning fast across the keyboard.

“You’re good at this,” Raven commented.

“Thanks!” Butters chirped. “You can try next if you want.”

He declined, “No, I’m actually tired. Today was...a day.”  

All of a sudden, he realized just how exhausted he actually was. His whole body felt heavy and a haze of sleep clouded his thoughts. His eyelids started to droop.

Seeing this, Butters jumped into action. He closed his laptop then scooched over, careful to make sure Raven didn’t fall down. With a smile, Butters proudly swung out his arm to offer the bed.

Raven blinked tiredly a few times before asking, “Where are you going to sleep?”

Did Butters want to sleep together? Would that be weird? They only started dating a few hours ago. Wasn’t Butters the kind of person to hog the bed? Or was that Kyle? Raven couldn’t remember.

Butters shook his head. “I don’t need to, but you do. Go on. My bed’s really comfy, and I washed the sheets just yesterday.”

Raven didn’t protest that. Instead, he kicked his shoes off before crawling under the covers. Maybe it was just because he was dog tired, but Raven had to admit, Butters was right about how comfy the bed was.

“I’ll get the lights for you.” Butters walked backward a few steps to the switch.

“Thanks,” Raven muttered with his eyes slipping shut. All the stress of the day melted away under the warm blanket, taking his conscience with it.

~~~~

His mom nearly crushed him in her embrace the next morning with his sister standing close behind. His dad hadn’t come to the Stotch’s to pick him up and Raven was ok with that.

After taking a second to look around and deciding that it was safe, he raised his arms and hugged her back.

“Don’t you ever worry me like that again,” She ordered when she pulled back. His mom placed a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes.

“Sorry,” Raven muttered, but he didn’t go to move her hand. He let himself enjoy the maternal worry and affection he’d been avoiding for the last few years.

With a breath, he asked, “Did you talk to Dad? What did he say? This isn’t my fault.”

His mother sighed. She opened her mouth to speak, but his sister beat her to it.

“He said you were gay and that’s why you’re acting like,” Shelley gestured to him, “this.”

Raven’s face heated up. He took a step back, nearly bumping into Butters and Mrs. Stotch.

He grabbed for Butters’ hand, squeezing partly for support and partly as a point, before he stated flatly, “Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t make me gay. Labels are stupid and for conformists anyway.”

A mild surprise crossed his mom’s face. She stood, shaking her head, as Shelley snorted into her hand and muttered, “Called it.”

“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble, Linda,” His mom said to Mrs. Stotch.

“Oh, he was a perfect gentleman all night,” Mrs. Stotch waved her hand. “Wasn’t too loud and didn’t make a mess, unlike the last time Butters brought over any of his little vampire friends.”

“Mom, stop, please!” Butters hid his face in his hands. Raven could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“He was just wonderful,” she continued as if she didn’t hear her son whine. “There wasn’t one spilled glass of tomato juice anywhere.”

Raven tapped Butters’ side with their connected hands in a comforting display. Maybe Butters let his parents do this so he had someone to keep him humble, or maybe not. Raven would try to remember to ask later.

“Thank you again for letting him stay,” his mom replied. To Raven, she said, “Come on, honey. It’s time to go home.”

Raven nodded, disentangling his hands from Butters. He didn’t have mittens, but his mom had brought a coat with them. As he slipped the warm coat on, Shelley stepped closer.

She whispered, “He’s not going to try and break in through the window to suck your blood, is  he?”

Raven nearly choked on air. His brain floundered for a reply until Shelley continued, “Eric told me when I was babysitting him, Butters did that to him once.”

Raven turned the sigh he let out into a dismissive snort halfway through. “Of course not, vampires aren’t real, Shelley. Get your head out of those trashy wastes of paper you read.”

Shelley put a hand on his shoulder and then shoved him roughly towards the door.

He stumbled but rolled his eyes in the end. This was still a step down from the fights they got into when they were younger.

As his family shuffled out with his mom yelling one more thank you to Mr. and Mrs. Stotch, Raven took a few steps off the porch. The snow came over his shoes and to his ankles. He could feel some of it fall into his shoes and melt on his socks.

He shuddered, trying to imagine what would have happened if he’d actually spent the night outside in that storm.

A few steps into the Stotch’s yard, the door opened again and Butters hurried out. He wasn’t wearing shoes, but the cold didn’t seem to bother him.

He pulled Raven into a hug then kissed his cheek before turning back on his heels and headed back to the house. Over his shoulder, Butters chirped, “Text me when you get home!”

Raven placed his hand over his cheek, smiling softly. Shelley looked over his shoulder at his face then snorted.

“Wow, just went right head over heels, huh? Didn’t know you had a kink for short, dark, and dorky,” She taunted, earning a glare. Raven shoved his hands into his pockets and marched past her.

“Screw you, at least I have a boyfriend,” Raven grumbled. He heard the low, threatening rumble in Shelley’s throat and picked up his pace, only to find himself tripping over the sidewalk and falling face first into the snow.

~~~~

He knew it was stupid to think that, now that they were dating, feedings would be a less disgusting and uncomfortable chore, but he did it anyway.

It was Sunday. Usually, Sundays were off days, a side effect of Raven tasting, as Butters claimed, “too Holy and Churchy.”

Raven didn't know what that meant and didn't bother to ask.

But Raven had been too tired the day prior and church had been canceled the night before due to the weather, so they agreed it would be best for Butters to just come over on Sunday night.

The moment Butters snuck through his window, Raven made a vow to somehow get revenge on his sister for how correct her joking prediction had been.

Raven leaned slight back against Butters. Butters wasn’t all that warm from his trip between their house, but he was soft. Reciprocating the affection, Butters tighten his grip around Raven’s middle.

Raven then eyes rolled over to his door. He locked it the moment Butters came tapping against the glass, as he didn’t want his dad trying to have a ‘bonding moment’ by bursting in when Raven was supposed to be in bed.

He nearly winced thinking about his dad. When he returned home Saturday, his dad offered a begrudging apology, and Raven accepted it just as begrudgingly. He knew full well that his dad wouldn’t stop whining about him being Goth, but at least the current familial drama had subsided.

Until next time...

Before Raven could dwell on that thought, Butters pulled back.

He licked his lips. “Ah, that’s good stuff.”

Raven grunted, scooting back farther between Butters’ legs until his back was pressed against his front. Butters snuggled against him, slightly too warm breath on Raven’s shoulders.

Nonetheless, this was peaceful. Raven shut his eyes, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall, the wind outside, and his own breathing.

He tried to hold tight to the feeling of ease and store it away. School, he knew, would be more of a nightmare than usual. While Raven wasn't one of those preppy, conformist popular kids, a shake-up of the status quo between the Goths and the Vamps would definitely cause waves that would spread throughout the school.

Not that he cared about what everyone else would think. He was way to Goth for that.

The only problem he should be focusing on would be giving Butters a list of every topic he wasn’t allowed to talk about, now that Raven decided to turn him from a wannabe to an actual, independent, nonconformist Goth — like him and his friends.

But that could wait until the morning — all the repercussions and preparations could wait until the morning. For now, Raven wanted to just enjoy the moment of peace with his boyfriend.

~~~

~~~

I hope everyone enjoyed! This was a lot of fun to write. I really loved the artist's work and how Raven looked just 100% done and begrudging in their art! =D