Nonsense About Romance
Chapter 11: Wendy's Plan
written by domolovesyou - illustrated by Noxicosis and SynnesaiWendy was positively beaming when she came into school the next day. Other people had noticed and asked her why, but she hadn’t really answered, just said, “Oh, it’s nothing.” But later that day she came up to Cartman in the hallway and said, “Hi Cartman!” all chipper like they were best friends or something.
“What do you want, ho?” he asked, closing his locker and hitching up his backpack.
Wendy rolled her eyes, but it almost looked endearing. “I was thinking about the plan for getting Stan and Kyle together,” she said. “And I think we really should do it.”
“I still don’t see why the hell you want to do it so much,” said Cartman. He’d never understand girls and the constant sand that was in their vaginas. Or, in Wendy’s case, the something nice in hers. Like a popsicle.
Okay, thinking about Wendy’s vagina was not going to help him with anything at all.
Wendy shrugged. “I don’t know, I just think it’s cute!” she said. “Don’t you think it’s cute? Best friends getting together and all that? Especially when it’s two guys, like Stan and Kyle.”
“Eurgh.” Cartman made a nauseated face. “Don’t say that. You’re gonna make me puke all over your hippie outfit.”
“Then I’ll beat you up again.”
“Right,” said Cartman sarcastically, though he wasn’t looking at her and knew she wasn’t bluffing. (That first time had scarred him for life from picking fights with girls (although he certainly wouldn’t say no to a midget.))
When he glanced at Wendy again, though, she seemed just as cheerful as before and didn’t even seem serious about beating him up. “What are you still doing here?” he asked rudely.
“Oh, well I just thought I’d tell you about my plan to get Stan and Kyle together,” she said. “But since you clearly you don’t want to join me because you clearly don’t want them to be happy...”
“Wait!” said Cartman as she started walking off. “I don’t want those fags to be happy, but—” He stopped himself before he could say something like I want to join you because that would make him sound even more like a fag. “I just want to know,” he snapped, ignoring Wendy’s questioning gaze.
Wendy tossed her hair back, but wasn’t bothered at all. “Okay,” she said to Cartman as they started walking down the hallway. “Here’s the deal: We can definitely get them together, but there’s gonna be a lot of people involved. And the plan’s not exactly complete, I’m still working on what-ifs and stuff and when we’ll run into trouble.”
“Okay.” Cartman could understand that; every time he came up with his genius plans, he had to figure those out too. But all of his plans usually came through perfectly in the end. Aside from that time he had tried to be the star of a Cheesy Poofs commercial, or tried to make friends with real men and ended up the poster boy for some pedophile association, or tried to persuade Donald Trump to buy him a yacht made out entirely of potatoes.
Yeah, well, okay. All of those failed because everyone else involved was retarded.
“But anyways, I’m still trying to figure it out... we’ll need to tell a lot of adults, including some school officials, parents, families, random strangers, Obama, some people at the hospital...”
“What kind of plan is this?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got most of it all thought out.” Wendy patted his shoulder in reassurance. “I just need to work on a few things. Well, see you Cartman!” she said, and then went into the classroom they just passed by.
Cartman stared after her, then mumbled, “Fuck it,” under his breath. This was stupid. Why was he going to help her? Why did he even want to help her—okay, he knew that. But was she really worth it to help Stan and Kyle together?
In Wood Shop, which he and Stan shared together (Kyle was taking an extra math, and Kenny said he’d take anything but shop), he noticed that Stan was oddly happy today. When he asked him about it (i.e. “What d’you have that dumb look on your face for?”), though, Stan didn’t give him a proper response. But that goddamned smile lasted him all throughout the period.
At lunch, Cartman was surprised to see Wendy at his and the guys’ usual table. When he arrived, she looked up from filing her nails and said, “Oh!” as if she’d been waiting for him.
He could have asked her why she was here, but he was pretty sure he knew why. He grunted, and started on his food as Wendy started talking a mile a minute.
“So I’m pretty sure the plan’ll work, though it’s pretty complex and I don’t know if they’re going to react the way I hope they react, but since it’s Stan and Kyle I’m sure they will. The harder part’s just going to be setting everything up, ‘cause we’ll have to let a lot of adults know what we’re doing and then they’re going to want to know why, and we’ll have to tell them about the Stan and Kyle situation, which they may not find worthy enough to agree with us... but you never know, we’ll have to try! And I think since this is South Park, we’re pretty open-minded and anything can happen, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Cartman mumbled, not bothering to mention that she didn’t even explain what this plan was, yet.
She opened her mouth, about to say more, but then Kenny and Butters suddenly appeared with their lunches and looked at Wendy.
“What’s she doing here?” asked Kenny.
“What, she can’t be here?” said Cartman.
But Wendy smiled at Kenny and said, “I’m just talking to him.”
“Where’s your lunch?” he asked as he and Butters settled down.
“Oh, I have lunch earlier today,” she said, waving her hand. “I already ate. I have a study hall right now, and no one knows that I’m here, so—”
“Wait, you’re cutting class?” said Cartman, and Wendy blushed, very visibly. “Oooooooh,” sang Cartman. “Wendy Testaburger’s cutting cla-ass.”
“And what, fatass, you’re going to tell on me?”
“No,” said Cartman quickly, turning back down to his food. “I was just saying.”
“Yeah, Wendy,” said Kenny, suddenly curious. “Why’re you cutting class to sit here with us?”
“Because—er—”
Wendy looked at Cartman suddenly, but Cartman knew that it was pointless not to tell Kenny, especially since her plan might actually be easier to go through with more people on board. “She has this gay plan to get Stan and Kyle together,” he said, picking at his third case of fries. “She wants me to help.”
Kenny dropped the apple he had slowly been working on. “Wait, you told her about them?”
“Well you told Butters!”
“But that’s because—”
Kenny stopped. Cartman had probably told Wendy for the same reason he had told Butters.
Damn.
“Well fine,” he grumbled. He’d enjoyed it when it was just a secret between him and Butters (who had been happily eating his macaroni and cheese and not paying attention o what they were saying, unless it was directed at him) and Cartman just sort of knowing on the side. Now it was the four of them. “What’s this plan you have?” he asked Wendy, almost begrudgingly.
“Can’t say,” she said, shaking her head. “In case it might not work. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Can’t you just tell us what it is even if it won’t work?”
“No, because that might jinx it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Cartman snapped, intervening. “If you tell someone your plans when you know that they’re not perfect yet, then you might not make them perfect after that because you can hear what other people’s stupid opinions are, and when you say it out loud you might not think it makes sense, so you have to keep everything to yourself when you’re plotting stuff or otherwise you’ll look like a complete dumbass.”
Kenny stared at him.
“... that makes no sense.”
“That’s what I was going for,” said Wendy, looking completely bewildered at what Cartman had just said. “But anyways... Do you want to help, Kenny?” Then, taking note of the boy beside him and feeling guilty that he’d been left out, she added, “And Butters?”
“What? Oh sure, I’d love to help!” said Butters, catching all of them by surprise.
“Great,” said Wendy, clapping and folding her hands together. “We’ll need more people, anyways. The more heads, the better. And you might be able to help me figure out any loopholes once I think the plan’s set.”
“I’m good at that,” boasted Cartman.
Kenny rolled his eyes, but Butters said, “I think your plan’ll be great, Wendy!”
Wendy smiled at him appreciatively. “Glad you think so.”
“It better be good,” said Cartman, but he was pretty sure that he was going to be impressed with whatever she came up with.
Lunch after that was pretty awkward since Stan and Kyle had come at that moment, laughing about something and looking overly happy. Kenny had no idea what was up with them since Kyle hadn’t talked to him in a while about that problem, but he wasn’t going to bother. Besides, Kenny was glad that they were so happy, because that would just make this whole thing easier.
Part of him wanted to be annoyed with Wendy that she was planning to set them up, but he couldn’t be. He had to admit, setting them up together sounded fun. It was going to take a lot of work, but it was kind of exciting, knowing everything behind the scenes and what was going to happen beforehand. Well, technically, he didn’t know what was going to happen beforehand because Wendy was being a dry cunt and apparently Cartman understood her, or something.
He could never get on the same wavelength as Wendy. She was smart and that was admirable, but she seemed to have the same way of thinking as Cartman... which was kind of scary, actually.
He talked about it with Butters, who, as always, seemed like he’d forgotten unless Kenny brought it up.
“What? Oh yeah, I’m kinda lookin’ forward to it too,’ said Butters. “To see Stan an’ Kyle being happy with each other and all.”
“Yeah,” said Kenny. “Do you think her plan’s gonna work?”
“Well she seems pretty confident it’ll work... and if anythin’ goes wrong, I’m sure Eric’ll find a way for us to get out of it,” said Butters.
“You don’t mind taking part, do you?”
“Oh no!” said Butters, shaking his head rapidly. “Not at all! I’m real excited, it sounds like it’s gonna be a lot of fun!”
“Yeah.”
Kenny was still observing him—Butters seemed so happy talking about this, like he really cared about it. Actually, he seemed like he really cared about everything that Kenny had said to him today, but when Kenny didn’t start the conversation, Butters didn’t say anything at all.
“You feeling okay, Butters?” he asked.
“I’m fine!” Butters’s eyes went wide at Kenny’s question. “Why? What’s wrong? Is there somethin’ on my face?” He looked into the window of a nearby shop they were passing to get to Kenny’s house.
“No,” said Kenny, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning him back. “You just haven’t talked a lot today.”
“I-I haven’t? Gee, sorry Kenny!” said Butters, sounding way too apologetic than he should. “I’m real sorry, I prob’ly should’ve talked more, shouldn’t I? Sorry—”
“It’s fine, Butters,” said Kenny patiently. “I was just wondering.”
“Wonderin’ what?”
“Why you don’t say anything unless I talk to you first.”
“O-Oh.” Little spots of pink appeared on Butters’s cheeks at this. “W-Well I’m real happy just bein’ around you, Kenny, and I really like it when we’re just hangin’ around each other and stuff. I mean, I like talkin’ to you too, but it’s just nice bein’ with you, you know?”
Why was Butters like this? Why had Kenny chosen to go for Butters, to like Butters out of all people? (Then he remembered it was Kyle’s fault.) But still, even if he hadn’t, even if he had gone for someone else, he was one hundred percent sure that there was no one who could match Butters’s level of adorableness, of genuineness, of—of everything that Butters was. Of Butters.
“S-Sorry, Kenny,” said Butters again, when Kenny didn’t say anything.
“Don’t be sorry.” Kenny loosened up his hood, took Butters by the wrist, and made an impulsive decision. “Come on, let’s walk faster, I want to get to my home sooner.”
Butters opened his mouth to apologize, but Kenny cut him off before he could. With a kiss. It was chaste and not like the long make out sessions they had yesterday (which had ended quite disappointingly when Butters had caught sight of the demented but still working clock in Kenny’s room and realized he had to run home before it got too late) but left Kenny elated like whenever he kissed Butters, all the same. Butters didn’t say anything after the kiss, and stumbled a few times on their way back home, but they did get to Kenny’s house sooner than they would have if they hadn’t walked faster.
When they got into his room, Kenny turned Butters around and kissed him again, walking forward and pressing Butters against the side of his bed. Butters flinched and let out a tiny little yelp as the hard wood hit the curve of his back, and Kenny murmured, “Sorry,” before hitching Butters’s thighs a bit up so Butters could take the hint and sit on his bed. He did so, as Kenny’s hood fell down, and they sat there kissing for several minutes, Kenny’s mouth and lips and tongue doing all sorts of things to Butters, as Butters made tiny little squeaks of appreciation and leaned in only a little bit, letting Kenny take full control of the kiss.
After a while, he was getting aware that Kenny’s hand was traveling downward; it had been clutching the back of his head at first, with Butters sitting cross-legged on the bed and responding to whatever Kenny was doing to him with his mouth; but now Kenny’s fingers were on the back of his neck and curling around the soft skin there gently. Butters let out a small whimper as their mouths opened against each other again and Kenny slid his tongue along his teeth, and his grip around Butters’s neck tightened. Butters would have been worried that Kenny was trying to kill or suffocate him or something, except his mind was too fuzzy right now and he knew that Kenny wouldn’t do that.
They broke apart after a bit to get some air, Kenny looking more attractive than ever with his face a tiny bit red—though Butters was sure he was worse. His face felt like it was on fire... in a good way. The rest of his body felt like it was on fire too, because being around Kenny made him feel hot. During the day he’d felt just extremely giddy and a tiny bit nervous when he was around him, but when Kenny was kissing him and doing all those stuff with him, Butters would feel his pulse quicken and heat race along his skin.
“We—We aren’t stoppin’, right?” said Butters.
Kenny laughed. “Of course not,” he said, readjusting himself on the bed. “I thought you might need a break, but I guess not.”
“Oh—Oh!” It hadn’t occurred to Butters that Kenny had been thinking of him. “Oh, no I’m fine! Thanks!”
Kenny laughed again. Butters liked the sound of it—it was like Kenny didn’t have another care in the world. And then he leaned in and kissed Butters again, except he leaned in so far that Butters found himself falling back on Kenny’s bed and having a mess of Kenny’s golden blond hair right in his face.
When Kenny tore his lips away, he breathed against Butters’s mouth, “Sorry ‘bout that.”
Butters was flustered, but didn’t care at all. “It’s okay,” he said, and Kenny took this as a sign to continue, and kissed him again.
As their kisses became more intense—more intense on Kenny’s part—Kenny’s hands were traveling southward. At first Butters thought he was going to take him by the waist again, but no: first it was his thighs, then it was his butt (he squeaked at that), and then it was between his legs and Butters gasped against him that they had to break apart again.
“W-What—?” he tried, but Kenny shushed him and put his head in the crook of Butters’s neck.
“Don’t question,” he said, as his hand slowly moved to the front of Butters’s pants. Then his hand slipped in.
Butters yelped. “What’re you doing?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like it,” said Kenny, pulling Butters’s pants down, though only a little, not even to his knees. Then his hand moved between Butters’s legs again, and then—
“That’s my wiener!”
Kenny chuckled. “Yes,” he said to Butters. “It is your wiener.”
“But what are you doing—aah.” Butters nearly melted as Kenny’s grip around it tightened and his fingers started stroking. It was the... weirdest thing ever, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t like it: the more Kenny stroked him, the more his brain started slipping away and he was falling into mindless ecstasy.
“You’re not—You’re not gonna keep doing that?” he asked Kenny faintly, hoping that yes, he would.
Kenny brought his head up and looked Butters in the eye, his blue gaze clouded with pleasure. “I’m Kenny McCormick,” he whispered.