Chapter Text
It was a few days before Tweek mustered the courage to visit Craig and Stripe, and when he did he showed up without any warning.
Craig was laying on his bed and staring at his socks, listening as the television hummed in the background. He’d put on some shitty action movie and turned the volume down low, already anticipating that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
Mind numbingly bored and equally as lazy, he considered jacking off but couldn’t be bothered. Maybe he could take a nap? But no, it was too late in the day for that and he appreciated getting a good night’s sleep.
A knock on the door distracted Craig from his inner conflict. He had been extremely engrossed in his own thoughts and embarrassingly enough, jumped at the unexpected sound.
The knock was rapid, almost frantic. Craig sighed, assuming it was his little sister looking for someone to annoy.
“Go away, Trish. I have homework.” He lied.
“It’s not Tricia, Craig.” A nervous voice said from the other side of the door. “It’s me.”
Craig froze. It was very obviously Tweek who had spoken, but why was he here? In a perfect world, he would rush in and tell Craig how much he still loved him. How much he needed him. But this wasn’t a perfect world.
“Tweek? Uh..come on in, dude.”
The door opened cautiously, squeaking as it revealed Craig’s ex boyfriend standing behind it. He looked characteristically anxious, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides and partly clenched into fists.
“I hope this isn’t a bad time.” He said nervously, still standing outside of the room.
No, Craig thought. It’s never a bad time. I literally can’t think of a single circumstance in which I’d call this a bad time.
“It’s fine.” Craig said, hoping that his voice was its usual monotone.
He was certain Tweek could see and hear the excitement on his face and in his words; that his desperation was dripping off him like sweat.
“I just thought...” Tweek trailed off, getting flustered.
He gestured awkwardly with his hands and stammered, but Craig wasn’t put off. This was Tweek after all, which meant that odd behavior was commonplace.
“Take your time, dude.” Craig assured him.
“Right. Okay.”
Tweek took a deep breath, collecting himself for a moment before he continued.
“I came here because you....saidicouldcomevisitstripe.”
“Can you say that one more time?” Craig asked calmly.
He recognized that they were slipping into their same old pattern, as Tweek exploded with nerves and Craig did his best to relax him.
“Sorry!” Tweek said, now wringing his hands.
“It’s fine, Tweek. Just say it again.”
“Okay. Let me try this one more time.”
Craig stared at him, waiting patiently until he could regain his composure.
“I came here because-“
He stopped talking yet again, gulping in another deep breath of air.
“You...said I could come visit Stripe. Does that offer still stand?”
This time, his words were crystal clear. Craig grinned.
“Of course it does. This is better than another custody battle, isn’t it?”
Tweek’s face relaxed into a smile and he laughed, remembering their fight from what seemed like a million years ago. It was their first breakup, and Craig had thought it would be their last.
“I forgot about that!” Tweek said. “I still think you should have come with me when I left Coon and Friends.”
“What, and join Kenny’s group? No fucking way, dude.”
Craig was joking around with him, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but remember how hurt he’d been. Tweek had walked out on him eight years ago, and now he’d done it again.
“So....” Tweek said awkwardly, still lingering by the door and gazing longingly at Stripe’s cage.
“Go ahead.” Craig said, climbing off of his bed and walking over to the cage.
Tweek looked thrilled, following closely behind him.
“Hey buddy.” Craig cooed as he approached the animal. “Hey there, Stripe.”
He opened the cage as quietly as he could and stuck his hands in, gently lifting the guinea pig out of its cage. Its coat was rough under his fingers, and much thinner than it used to be. Tweek put out his hands and slowly and carefully, Craig handed him over.
“Hi, Stripe.” Tweek whispered. “You’re looking good, man. How’ve you been?”
He held him for a few minutes longer, stroking his fur and speaking softly to him as Craig looked on.
“I think he’s ready to go back in his cage now.” Tweek said finally. “He seems exhausted.”
Craig nodded. Stripe wasn’t a young guinea pig by any means, and he was a hell of a lot less playful now than he used to be. As he set him back into his enclosure, Tweek sighed.
“He’s getting so old.” He whispered.
Craig nodded.
“I know.”
Tweek squatted to the floor, peering at their guinea pig. Stripe lumbered around his cage, shuffling around in the bedding and searching for the perfect spot to sleep. Tweek watched him adoringly through the glass, beaming, and Craig felt his heart swell with happiness and heartache.
This all felt too similar to the old days; the days when he and Tweek were inseparable and this was their little family. Now, Craig couldn’t accidentally brush his fingers against Tweek’s without feeling guilty.
“Don’t you miss this?” Craig asked suddenly, immediately regretting it.
It was almost as though his feelings took control of his body for a second there, grabbing at his strings and manipulating him like a marionette. Tweek looked startled by the question, whipping his head around to face Craig.
“Don’t say shit like that, man!” He cried.
Craig shrugged, feigning indifference.
“Why?” He asked in what he hoped was a casual tone. “Because you do?”
God, Craig thought. What is with me today? Why can’t I just stop talking? Tweek turned red, clearly flustered by the sudden line of questioning, and stood up,
“Of course I miss this.” He whispered.
Craig felt a pit of guilt form in his stomach at the expression on Tweek’s face. Of all people, Craig should’ve known that bringing up the break up would upset him.
“You can’t spend 8 years with someone and not miss him when he isn’t there anymore.”
Craig was taken aback.
“I’m right here, Tweek.” He said seriously. “We don’t have to keep doing this, you know. Whatever point it is you wanted to prove by breaking up with me? You’ve done it, okay?”
Tweek shook his head a few times, looking increasingly distressed as he tried to push past Craig and out the door.
“I can’t-“
Craig stuck an arm out, blocking his exit.
“We can be us again, Tweek. It’s not too late.”
Tweek stared at him with big, sad eyes and shook his head one more time.
“This is too much.” He said quietly. “I have to go.”
Craig deflated, letting his arm go limp. Tweek shuffled away from him hurriedly.
“Wait!” Craig said as Tweek rushed to the door.
Tweek froze, looking terrified, and the now familiar feeling of guilt washed over Craig again.
“I’m sorry.” He said, hanging his head in shame. “I shouldn’t have said all that stuff to you. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Tweek looked relieved, comforted by the knowledge that Craig at least understood what he was doing wrong.
“It’s okay.” He whispered.
If he spoke any louder he feared he would cry, and he couldn’t afford that right now. He needed to be strong.
“I hope I didn’t scare you off.” Craig said honestly. “Because Stripe still needs two dads.”
Tweek smiled sadly, all the frustration flooding out of him in waves.
“You didn’t scare me off..” He said honestly.
••••
“Tweek came over yesterday.” Craig announced at lunch the next day. “Progress, right?
“And did you get back together?” Token asked dryly.
Craig glared at him.
“No, we didn’t get back together.” He admitted.
“Get back to me when you do.”
••••
“Maybe you could hook up with someone at my party, Craig!” Clyde suggested happily.
He was anxious for his best friend to get back into the dating scene, and he would be absolutely thrilled if his upcoming party could help facilitate that.
“Token, can you tell him to shut up?” Craig asked.
“Shut up, Clyde.”
They were sitting around in Clyde’s living room before the party, waiting for guests to arrive. It was Halloween night, and Clyde had called hosting the big occasion three months ago.
“When should we g-ge-get into our costumes?” Jimmy asked.
“Costumes?” Craig asked flatly.
His friends looked at him, all with various stages of irritation on their faces.
“Don’t tell me you forgot to bring a costume!” Clyde whined.
Clyde was already dressed in his: a giant hotdog suit that Craig had already called stupid three times.
“Is it really forgetting if I never intended to bring one in the first place?”
All three of the other boys groaned, and Clyde buried his face in his hands.
“I’m sorry!” Craig said. “No one told me this was a costume party.”
“It’s Halloween, asshole.” Token said.
“Yeah?” Craig said. “And I’m eighteen years old. When do we get to old for this shit again?”
“Never.” Clyde replied confidently.
A sound from outside kept Craig from answering, and everyone looked up to see a car pulling into the driveway.
“Someone’s here.” Token said simply. “Let’s go get our costumes on, Jimmy.”
They left to find their outfits, and Clyde and Craig watched as Stan Marsh got out of the driver’s seat. He was followed-as always-by Kyle from shotgun and Kenny and Cartman from the back.
“Gross!” Craig said. “Jesus, Clyde. I know Kenny’s your friend, but did you have to invite the rest of them?”
“There’s no way around it.” Clyde hissed back. “If you invite one of them, they all come. They latch onto each other like fucking fleas!”
They watched as the group walked up to the house, and Clyde gestured through the window for them to come inside. Kenny tore open the door with a smile on his face, holding it open for his friends.
“Hey, losers.” He greeted cheerfully, giving Clyde a high five.
Kyle was behind him, dressed in a costume that looked very vaguely familiar to Craig. Some TV character maybe? Kenny was costume-less, and Cartman looked like some kind of werewolf creature.
Stan was just as unimpressive as Kenny; wearing a football jersey, blue jeans, and his poof ball hat.
“Where’s your costume, dude?” Token wondered.
“I’m-um-a football player?” Stan said with a shrug.
“That’s not really a costume, Stan.” Kyle pointed out. “That’s just...what you actually are.”
“Kenny doesn’t have a costume either!” Stan said defensively.
“That’s where your wrong, Stanley.” Kenny said with a shake of his head.
“What?”
Kenny held up a finger, signaling for them to wait, and slipped a backpack he was wearing off his shoulders. He unzipped it and pulled something out: a crumpled heap of yellow. He unfolded it and stuck it on his head, and Craig quickly realized what it was.
“I’m Princess Kenny, bitches!” He announced.
Stan and Kyle laughed disbelievingly as Cartman rolled his eyes, seeming completely bored with the whole situation.
“Excuse me as I go adjust my hair.” Kenny said with a wink, heading toward a bathroom down the hall.
“He seriously still wears that girls wig?” Clyde asked. “Isn’t that kind of weird?”
“Keep your mouth shut.” Kyle told him sternly, pointing a finger.
“Yeah.” Cartman agreed unenthusiastically. “We just let Kenny do whatever he wants, and today he wants to be a chick.”
Clyde’s eyes widened and he looked at Craig, who shrugged. Apparently Stan’s gang had decided to be civil towards each other tonight.
As the night went on, Clyde’s house became increasingly noisy as it flooded with teenagers. Bebe Stevens showed up in a skin tight red dress, a sash, and with her golden hair tucked under a crown.
“Miss America?” Token asked, to which she gave a nod of confirmation.
Butters dressed as a puppy, Wendy dressed as a 1920s flapper, and Craig wished he had Tweek to do a couples costume with. They always did the best couples costumes.
He spent most of the night wandering in and out of the kitchen, searching for snacks and avoiding conversation. On one of his trips to the fridge he ran into Stan, who looked just as bored as he did.
“What’s the problem, Stan?” He asked. “They aren’t playing enough emo music for you?”
“Shut the fuck up, dude.”
“You can go ask Clyde to play some Fall Out Boy if you want, you know.”
Stan set down his can of beer on the island and took a step towards him. Craig chuckled, backing away but not really feeling threatened. Stan Marsh was drunk, and belligerent, and his legs were unsteady enough that even Butters could’ve beaten him in a fight.
“Can you stop antagonizing me, dude?” Stan asked. “We’re all just here to have a good time.”
“It not even 10 p.m. and your words are slurred, Marsh.” Craig taunted. “Are you sure you aren’t turning into your father?”
Stan stopped, glowering at him in the low lighting of Clyde’s kitchen. Craig smirked viciously at him, knowing that he’d hit a sore spot and too far gone to care.
“Whatever.” Stan said when he’d gathered his thoughts.
Craig raised an eyebrow. Admittedly, he’d been expecting to get into a fist fight, or at the very least a screaming match. But now it seemed as though his opponent was backing down.
“Whatever? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Now it was Stan’s turn to smirk.
“It means that I don’t have time to humor someone who’s only being a dick to me so he can forget how pussy whipped he is for his ex boyfriend.”
Craig clenched his teeth in fury, sticking out a hand and shoving Stan backward into a cabinet.
“Don’t fucking talk about my relationship.” He said darkly.
Stan rolled his eyes to the back of his head and picked the can of beer back up, taking a swig.
“Relationship?” He asked when he was done. “There is no relationship, Craig. He broke up with you, remember?”
Craig thought about going home at that point; walking away from the argument that he’d started and letting the whole thing go. But at home there would be nothing to do except wallow in his loneliness, and this was a distraction.
“At least we had a relationship, dick. You’re obsessed with your best friend! Fucking pathetic.”
Stan glared daggers at him, and Craig almost regretted saying anything about Kyle. If it came down to it, Stan could probably kick his ass.
“Don’t talk about Kyle.” He growled. “You don’t know shit about us.”
“I know that you worship the ground he walks on.”
“Why are you always like this?” Stan yelled over the music.
Craig opened his mouth to snark back at him, but the kitchen door swung open and interrupted him. Kyle walked in and immediately assessed the situation, looking both boys up and down. Seeing their aggressive positions, he frowned.
“Were you guys fighting?” He asked.
“More like Craig was being a little bitch and I was defending myself.” Stan said, not breaking eye contact with his rival.
Kyle glared at both of them, and rushed to grab Stan by the arm.
“Come on, Stan.” He said. “Stop fighting and come hang out with me, okay?”
Stan lit up at this, allowing Kyle to drag him back out into the party. Craig’s shoulders sunk. Well, there goes his distraction. He thought about heading back out to the party or getting another drink, but settled on just going home. It was getting late anyway, so he could probably fall asleep quickly.
He waded through the crowded living room, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. It would probably only be a matter of hours before he saw half of them again.
Craig opened the front door and stepped onto the front patio, but was startled when he saw that there was someone already sitting there. A blond, ex boyfriend sort of someone.
Tweek turned around when he heard the door open, and he looked surprised to see Craig standing in front of them.
“Craig?” He asked. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my best friend’s party. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
Tweek rolled his eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He said sarcastically. “Maybe because you’ve told me no less than 700 times how much you hate parties.”
“And you’ve told me the same thing.” Craig countered. “So why are you here?”
“Bebe really wanted me to come.”
“Oh. No costume for you either, huh?”
“Too much pressure. I didn’t know what to be.”
Craig stepped out further and sat down next to Tweek on the top step. Tweek smiled at him, and Craig noticed that he had a large wet stain on his shirt.
“Why are you all wet?” He asked.
Tweek sighed, pulling his knees tight to his chest.
“I spilled soda all over myself.” He said. “I’m such a fucking spaz.”
He paused thoughtfully.
“I guess that’s what I’m dressed as this year. A spaz. That’s what everyone else sees me as, anyway.”
Craig frowned.
“Well in that case, I guess I’m dressed as an unfeeling asshole.” He said.
Tweek looked at him, concerned.
“You’re not an unfeeling asshole, Craig.”
“And you’re not a spaz.”
Tweek smiled: first at the concrete, then at the stars. Then he craned his head to look Craig in the eye.
“Happy Halloween, Craig.”
Craig smiled back at him.
“Happy Halloween.”