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The wind whistles menacingly, sending giant fluffy snowflakes swirling through the air around him as Craig wrenches open one of the heavy front doors of South Park High and ducks inside, out of the bone-chilling cold. He stomps his feet on the worn floor mat a few times to shake off the snow that he's just spent the last twenty minutes slogging through, and then he grabs his signature blue chullo by its bright yellow poofball, yanking it off his head to do the same with it. Once he's satisfied that he no longer looks like one of those powdered donuts from 7-Eleven that Clyde's recently become obsessed with, he shoves the hat back over his dark hair. Cringing at the feel of the damp fabric on his head, Craig sighs heavily and heads off towards his locker. If he's lucky, he should have a whole five minutes to–
Bzzzzzzzzt!
Goddammit. So much for having time to stop by the cafeteria and snag a muffin. Craig scowls at the ceiling, raising one hand to flip off the flickering fluorescent lights, and turns the corner just in time to catch the tail end of his friends' conversation at the lockers. Craig swerves, nearly running into a blob of purple sweater.
"I don't know, I still don't think that's a good idea," said sweater blob states, completely oblivious to the noirette who has materialized at his side, "The last time the school did something like that, Kevin ended up giving everyone head lice."
"Oh, come on, Token. Where's your sense of adventure?" Clyde throws his arms open wide, accidentally almost backhanding Tweek right across the face. The blonde flinches, his whole body jerking to the side so abruptly that he loses his grip on the books he's holding and they go crashing to the floor. "Oh, whoops, sorry!" Clyde apologizes with a sheepish smile as Tweek crouches down to retrieve them.
"And the last time you said that," Token shakes his head, "I wound up with a giant Foghorn Leghorn tattoo on my–"
Clyde interrupts before Token can reveal the location of his secret shame. "Hey, Craig!" he chirps, the sound of his excessively cheerful voice this early in the morning enough to instantly trigger a headache. "How come you weren't on the bus this morning?"
"Uh, wha…?" Craig half-heartedly responds, barely able to keep the drool that is pooling inside his mouth from dribbling down his chin. His eyes are lingering on Tweek, who has bent over to pick up his books, and it's not until Clyde waves one of his hands in front of his face that Craig realizes what he's doing. His cheeks reddening, he snaps his head up and turns to his locker, furiously spinning his combination lock so quickly he's not even sure he's hitting the right numbers. "I, uh, I slept in…or some shit, I don't remember."
"I bet you don't," Token remarks, flashing a knowing smirk in Craig's direction before leaning down to grab one of Tweek's books that had landed a few feet away. "Here, Tweek, we should hurry before we end up stuck in a group with Cartman again."
Tweek jumps to his feet, taking the book from his friend and adding it to the pile in his arms. "Oh, God, you're right," he agrees. He begins to follow Token off down the hall, but stops for a second to smile at Craig on his way past. "Hi, Craig! Bye, Craig!" he laughs.
Mesmerized as always by the sound of Tweek's laughter, it takes Craig a little longer than he would like to be able to formulate a response, and by then the blonde is already almost to the corner. Right before he disappears out of sight, Craig calls out, "I'll, uh, see you at lunch!"
"I won't be there!" Tweek replies over his shoulder, "That's when I'm volunteering!"
"Oh," Craig nods, even though Tweek isn't looking at him, "okay." It's not until after Tweek is gone that he realizes he has no idea what that means. He frowns, slamming his locker door shut without taking any of his books out of it, and mutters to himself, "Wait…what?"
Popping up beside him like a living Whac-A-Mole, Clyde chimes, "Oh, yeah, didn't you know? All of us on the social events committee decided it would be fun to have a kissing booth!"
"...what."
"It was actually my idea," Clyde beams, puffing out his chest slightly as he and Craig start down the hall in the opposite direction, "and everyone really liked it! It's two dollars for every kiss, and all the money is going to get donated to the animal shelter!" He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a hefty stack of one dollar bills. "This is gonna be the best day ever! All the girls who keep rejecting me are finally gonna get to find out what they've been missing!"
"...what." Craig's brain doesn't seem to be able to come up with any other word at the moment.
Clyde's grin grows even wider and he actually claps his hands in giddy excitement. "Yeah! And even Tweek's volunteering, which is huge for him! He's going to be there on his own for the whole lunch hour. He's supposed to kiss anyone who hands him two dollars, and I bet you anything he's going to make a buttload of cash!"
Suddenly, Craig stops in the center of the hallway, his eyes widening and his jaw clenching as every fiber of his being starts internally screaming at this life-changing information. He swiftly scans the area, his legs trembling as he slowly backs away from his best bro. "...I have to, uh…go now." Exactly where it is he has to go, he's not sure, he just knows that there's no possible way he can focus on biology class right now when, in just a few short hours, he's going to finally have the chance to kiss the guy he's had a crush on since the fourth grade.
"Where are you going?!" Clyde stares helplessly after him as Craig takes off down the hall. "Craig! Dude, you don't need to do this! You already showed me your Red Racer impression last night!" A couple of late students walking past stop and give the brunette weird looks. He shoves his handful of money back into his pocket, cocking his head in confusion. "What? He's the fastest Craig in town!"
An eternity and half later – which translates to a few hours, for everyone who isn't currently named Craig Tucker – the lunch bell finally rings, signifying the beginning of both Clyde's favorite time of day and Craig's short window of opportunity to lock lips with his favorite blonde. Sure, it's all going to be for charity, and Tweek doesn't have any real feelings for him, and there's a definite possibility that actually kissing him is going to result in utter tragedy, but Craig doesn't have time for that kind of negative thinking right now. His lunch break only lasts forty-two minutes, and he's not going to waste any time.
He jumps up from his seat, nearly tripping over his own shoelaces multiple times as he races out the door of his algebra classroom and barrels down the hallway, making a beeline straight for the gym. According to the notice posted on the bulletin board outside the main office, that's where the kissing booth is going to be set up – and he should know, he read it about fifty times in anticipation for the big moment. Sure enough, when Craig skids to a stop outside the gym's open double doors, sweaty and out of breath from his impromptu sprint through the school, he sees Tweek standing behind a small folding table with a cardboard sign taped to the front of it. Kisses: $2.00, it reads, in large, glittery lettering.
Craig's stomach churns with some combination of nervous excitement, fear, and, as he watches a group of obnoxiously giggly freshman girls line up in front of the table, jealousy. Ugh. Don't they know that Tweek is gay? Why the hell are they fawning all over him like they have any chance with him? Craig rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore his own inner voice that's trying to point out that he's not much different from those freshmen, and walks into the gym as casually as possible. Now that he's actually here, his heart is pounding dangerously quickly and his throat keeps drying up like the fucking Sahara desert.
Averting his gaze from the group of girls, Craig instead focuses on the scuffed wooden floor, counting how many steps it takes him to get from the entrance of the gym over to the booth. Counting things like this usually helps him relax when he's stressed out, but unfortunately, he's not that lucky this time. "Twenty-six," he mutters under his breath. He lifts his foot to take the next step, but because he hasn't been paying attention to where exactly he's been walking, he doesn't notice that he's about to walk straight into–
"Ow, goddammit!"
–the table. Craig glares down at the stupid piece of folding furniture, reflexively flipping it off for having the audacity to get in his way.
"Hi, Craig!"
"Uh," Craig looks up, his heart literally skipping a beat when he sees the wide, happy grin on Tweek's face. Jesus Christ, he has the best smile Craig has ever seen in his life. For a second, he completely blanks on how he's supposed to respond, and then, after much too long, he blurts out, "Hey, Twag."
"Did you just call me Twag?" Tweek tilts his head to the side, his grin fading slightly as his eyebrows come together, confusion reflected in his brilliant green eyes.
"No." Shit. "I, uh," Craig frantically tries to backtrack, "called you…Craig." The moment the words tumble out of his mouth, he's already mentally facepalming. What the hell is his problem?!
Tweek blinks, reaching out over the table to tap Craig's shoulder. "...You're Craig," he reminds the noirette, letting out a little laugh that absolutely kills Craig thanks to how cute it is. "Did you not get enough sleep again?"
"Ha!" Craig resists the urge to clap a hand over his mouth, though he can't stop the blush that spreads across his face at the obnoxious sound he's just made. "Uh…yeah! You know me, I never don't sleep enough!" Cringing, he pushes ahead, praying to God that Tweek won't call him out on that awful double negative. "I just thought you might want some, uh, company, so I decided to come eat lunch with you."
"Oh!" Tweek's face brightens, and he gestures to the pair of folding chairs a few feet behind him. "Okay! You can sit there, if you want…" He trails off, eyeing Craig's empty hands. "...but I think you're forgetting something."
Craig glances down at himself, instinctively – and not at all subtly – patting his crotch with both hands, breathing a sigh of relief when he verifies that no, he hasn't been walking around with an open zipper all morning. Of course, that relief is extremely short-lived when he looks back up at Tweek, sees the look on the blonde's face, and realizes just what it must have looked like he was doing. "Oh, no–!" he blurts out, pointing to the front of his jeans, "I just– I thought you, uh, meant my zipper, but no, it's all zip– zip–" He tries to stop himself, he really does, but unfortunately for Craig, there is no stopping his brain when it's decided to take a ride on the moronmobile, "–zip-a-dee-doo-dah!"
After that complete mess of a response, Craig is half-expecting Tweek to rescind his offer of letting the noirette sit with him, and honestly, he wouldn't blame him. He really shouldn't have stayed up until three in the morning last night watching the director's cut of the eighth Red Racer movie for the nineteenth time; he's even more exhausted than usual today, which is making it increasingly harder for him to behave like a normal person. Miraculously, though, Tweek doesn't seem to be in any way disturbed or offended by Craig's words; in fact, he looks more concerned than anything else.
"I meant how you don't have a lunch with you," he clarifies, and then before Craig knows it, Tweek has come out from behind the table and taken hold of his arm. "Come on, you should sit down. I think you might be really sleep-deprived."
No, just Tweek-deprived, Craig thinks to himself, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying the words out loud.
"Clyde said he'd bring me some fries after he was finished eating," Tweek makes sure Craig is all the way seated and in no danger of tipping over onto the floor, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, "Did you want me to get him to bring you something too?"
"Uh…what?" Craig blinks twice before Tweek's words finally make sense. Maybe he really is sleep-deprived. "Oh, uh…no, I'm food. I mean, uh, good."
Doubt flickers in Tweek's eyes. A couple of girls Craig recognizes from his history class approach the booth and the blonde reluctantly slips his phone back into his pocket. After taking their money and giving them each a quick peck on the cheek, which both girls seem ecstatic about, Tweek turns back to Craig. "Really? Are you not hungry?"
"Oh, I'm hungry alright…" Craig leans back, pretends to scratch his nose, and mutters into his hand, "...but not for food."
"What?"
Shit. He'd been so sure he'd kept his voice low enough. "What?" Craig echoes, as nonchalantly as possible, even as he can feel himself blushing. He just hopes it's not noticeable and that Tweek hadn't actually heard him; if he has to explain what he'd meant by that right now, he's pretty sure Tweek will never speak to him again.
Thankfully, the gods seem to be smiling down on him, at least at this very moment, because before Tweek can say anything else, two more girls walk up to the table, each of them eagerly holding out their two dollars. Unfortunately, those two girls are Karen McCormick and her best friend, none other than Craig's sister, Tricia.
"What's wrong with you?" Tricia looks past Tweek, raising an eyebrow at her brother. "You look weird." She takes a step back, her lips curling up in the kind of disgust only a sibling can feel, "Ew, don't tell me you're doing this too!"
Craig, true to form, just flips her off with a scowl, and then folds his arms across his chest.
"He's just keeping me company," Tweek explains with a laugh. Taking Tricia's money, he sets it neatly inside the metal donation box beside him on the table and leans in to give her a kiss on the forehead, doing the same for Karen.
Another group of students line up behind the two girls, and Craig takes full advantage of Tweek being busy to surreptitiously fish his limited edition Red Racer studded wallet out of his back pocket and flip through it. His heart sinks when he realizes that he doesn't actually have any cash on him; the only things tucked inside his wallet at the moment are his school ID, his public library card, and a condom he'd snagged from the bowl outside the counselor's office a few months ago – just in case. For a moment, Craig seriously considers asking if Tweek will take his library card as collateral, but just as he's making a mental list of the pros and cons of that idea, his douchebag senses begin to tingle and he raises his head to see the worst person on the planet passing by the booth
His eyes narrowing, Craig mutters under his breath, "Yeah, keep walking, Marsh."
Perking one eyebrow up slightly and making a face that Craig really wishes he could reach out and punch, Stan stops in his tracks only a few feet from the booth. He looks first at Tweek, then shifts his eyes to Craig, holding his gaze for a good five seconds longer than necessary before slapping his hand over his mouth and snickering. Craig's face burns with indignant humiliation – who the hell does Stan Marsh think he is? – and he lifts both hands to shoot a double middle finger in the raven's direction.
Unfortunately, he'd forgotten all about the wallet he'd been holding, and it tumbles to the floor in the process. Goddammit. Craig practically leaps from his seat to grab it and shove its contents back inside before anyone can see.
"You okay?" Tweek glances over his shoulder.
"Uh– yeah!" Craig scrambles to his feet, nodding vehemently as he searches for some reason why he would all of a sudden be standing. "I just, uh, I have to, um–" Spying a bright flash of orange across the gym, he blurts out, "Kenny!"
Tweek follows his gaze to where Kenny McCormick is leaning against the far wall, talking to a very flustered-looking Bridon Gueermo. "You have to Kenny?"
"Yup," Craig replies, already speed-walking away, "so I'll, uh, be right back!"
Fuck. Why Kenny, of all people? Sure, he's no Stan and is therefore not the devil, but it's not like Craig has ever had any real desire to spend any length of time with Kenny either. But now he has no other choice but to do exactly that. Some days Craig really wishes he didn't turn into Clyde while he's around Tweek and constantly blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Groaning internally as he gets closer, Craig racks his brain for what the hell he can even say. He doesn't remember the last time he and Kenny had ever had a real conversation.
As it turns out, though, he doesn't have to say a thing. Kenny glances up, sees Craig, and holds up one finger to Bridon. "One sec, B," he grins, before digging around inside his parka's pockets for a moment, eventually holding out two crumpled one-dollar bills to the noirette. "Here ya go!" he chirps, while Craig can only stare at the money in confusion. "I gotta say, dude," Kenny remarks offhandedly, "I'm not exactly surprised, but I am pretty flattered you're coming to me for help."
"Wait– what–?" What? Craig blinks twice, automatically reaching out and taking the cash from Kenny, staring at it like it's alien currency. "How did you–"
"Tucker," Kenny shakes his head, a small snort of laughter escaping his nostrils. "Everyone knows. It was last month's exclusive story for Eavesdropper Ultimate subscribers, for Christ's sake." He grabs his phone, taps on the screen for a moment, and then holds it up so Craig can get a look at the headline.
"Token Black: Trust Fund Baby or Entrepreneurial Super Hunk?" Craig reads out. "What does that–"
"Wait, no." Kenny frowns, pulling his arm back and scrolling through the articles again. "That was yesterday's headline. This is the one I was talking about."
He holds out his phone once more, and Craig immediately wants a sinkhole to open up beneath him right then and there. Plastered right there on the website are two photos, one of Tweek looking like the beautiful angel of a human he is…and one of Craig after he'd had that allergic reaction to scallops at lunchtime few months ago and his whole face had swelled up to the size of a fucking Macy's parade balloon. Beneath the photos is the caption, "When Will Craig Tucker Finally Make His Move? Vote Below!"
"Oh my God." If it was possible for someone to die of utter mortification, Craig is positive he would already be well on his way to the afterlife.
"Don't worry!" Kenny flashes him a smile that is not at all comforting. "The Ultimate subscription is, like, nineteen ninety-nine plus tax, so I'm sure not a lot of people have it. Hell, I'm only subscribed cause Kyle got it for me for my birthday."
"I–" Craig isn't even sure what he's about to try to say, but it doesn't matter anyway, because he's interrupted before he can get another word out.
"What is up, my dudes?"
Craig turns around, barely resisting the urge to facepalm when he sees Clyde strutting into the gym, holding a cardboard container of cafeteria french fries in one hand and waving around a stack of cash with the other.
"HI, CRAIG!" Clyde hollers, catching sight of his best friend across the room and nearly walking straight into Annie when he waves to Craig enthusiastically. Annie shoots him the dirtiest look Craig has ever seen, but Clyde is completely oblivious. "I'm here to support my bro!" he announces, making his way over to the booth where Tweek is standing. "I'm not gay though!" he adds, still speaking at a volume well above normal, "Nope! I'm totally not into dudes, so don't worry, ladies! This face is still on the market!" He gestures to himself with the fry container.
"Uh-oh," Kenny teases from behind Craig, "better be careful, Tucker, or someone might steal your man!"
Logically, Craig knows that there's absolutely no truth behind Kenny's words. For one thing, Tweek isn't 'his' man. Not yet, anyway. Also, there's no doubt in Craig's mind that Clyde really is as straight as they come, and there is exactly zero chance that one kiss on the cheek from Tweek is going to do anything to ruin Craig's chances. Plus, even if Tweek kissing him did awaken something in Clyde, the blonde would also have to feel it for anything to really happen, and Craig just can't see that being likely.
So really there's no reason for him to react the way that he does. And yet, as soon as Clyde sets the fries down on the table and plucks two dollars from his fistful of cash, something inside the noirette's brain snaps. Acting purely on some kind of primal, jealous instinct, Craig reaches into his pocket, grabs his wallet, and flings it through the air…
…where, instead of hitting its target, it smacks Tweek in the face. Or, more accurately, directly in his left eye.
"Agh!" Tweek shrieks, clapping one hand over his eye. "I'm blind!"
"Shit!" Craig barely even hears the sass Kenny throws his way. He's already rushing back over to the booth, the sound of his own heart frantically thumping through his eardrums. Goddammit. So much for his two dollars – Tweek's never going to kiss him now.
"No, really." Craig carefully pulls the ice pack in his hand away from Tweek's eye, frowning slightly as he inspects the damage. "It doesn't look that bad." He's not even lying, although he definitely thinks dragging Tweek to the nurse's office had been the best course of action – even if it had meant leaving Clyde in charge of the booth for the rest of the lunch hour.
Tweek raises one hand, gingerly poking at the small purple bruise just below his left eyebrow. "Thanks. And thanks for, um, coming with me." He holds out his hand, and Craig reluctantly hands over the ice pack.
"Oh, uh, yeah, I mean," Craig clears his throat, doing his best to push away the feelings of guilt and shame that come with his next words, "it was my wallet that hit your face."
"What were you even trying to do, anyway?" Tweek peers at the noirette from behind the ice pack.
Craig's stomach drops and he looks around the nurse's office, but there's nobody around to help him out of this one. "Uh…" He desperately wants to lie, but the more he tries to come up with something convincing, the more he realizes that there really isn't anything he can say that would make much sense other than the truth. Letting his gaze fall to the floor, he sighs softly before admitting, "I didn't want you to kiss Clyde."
Tweek cocks his forehead, wincing at the slight movement as he continues to press against his damaged skin. "Why not? I thought he already got over his mono."
"No." Craig shakes his head. "I mean, yes, he did, but…" With another sigh, he mutters, "Never mind."
Concern flashes in Tweek's vibrant green eyes. He pulls the ice pack away from his face, his arm flopping awkwardly to his side. "Are you sure you're okay, Craig? You've been acting kinda weird all day."
Craig kicks at the scuffed floor with the heel of his shoe. This is it, this is his perfect chance to finally admit how he really feels about Tweek, right to his face. Taking a deep breath, silently praying with everything he has that he's going to live through this, he begins, "Well–"
"Is this about that Eavesdropper thing?"
Snapping his head up in shock, Craig can only stare at the blonde in front of him, his mouth hanging wide open for a moment. "You subscribe to Eavesdropper Ultimate?!" he finally blurts out when he remembers how to speak again.
"Yeah…" Tweek blinks innocently, as if what he had just said hadn't been a bombshell of epic proportions. "All the newspaper staff get free subscriptions."
"...You're on the newspaper?!" Jesus Christ, what other secrets has Tweek been hiding?
Tweek sets the ice pack down next to him on the counter and bites his lip, running a hand through his hair. "For the record though," he clarifies, "I did not write that article. I run the advice column."
No matter how hard he tries, Craig just can't seem to get his brain and mouth to cooperate long enough for him to say anything in return. That's probably a blessing in disguise, though. Honestly, knowing him, he's never exactly done well operating under pressure.
"...So," Tweek finally breaks the awkward silence, leaning back in his plastic chair, "when is it?"
"Whuh…" Craig coughs, a loud, painfully obvious fake cough. "When's what?"
Unable to keep the amused smirk from tugging at the corner of his lips, Tweek exhales a puff of air through his nostrils, "When is Craig Tucker finally going to make his move?"
Craig's eyes widen, and he thinks that he must have heard Tweek wrong, because there's no way that he had just implied what it sounds like he had. He must be making fun of him, that's all. Never mind the fact that that kind of thing doesn't sound like Tweek at all; at least, not the Tweek that he's known for most of his life. There's just no other explanation that Craig can come up with that seems plausible, because Tweek would never–
But then, while Craig's brain is in the middle of listing off all of the reasons why Tweek would never seriously be interested in him in a million years, it happens. Tweek scoots forward in his chair, flattens his hands against the sides of it for balance, and leans in close. Before Craig can even process the fact that there's suddenly a head of blonde hair an inch away from his face, Tweek is already kissing him.
Their lips are only connected for a few seconds, but in those few seconds Craig can swear he can actually feel his soul leaving his body, shooting straight up to the fucking moon and back. It's everything he's ever wanted, and yet somehow even more. He'd never known that it was even possible to feel this happy. That feeling of utter bliss remains flowing through his veins even when Tweek pulls back, only to disappear in an instant when the blonde speaks again.
"So," Tweek's eyes are shining and he has a tiny smile on his face, "that'll be two dollars."
"Oh, uh…" Craig's face flames bright red and he begins digging in his pockets to find the money Kenny had given him. After checking all four of his pockets three separate times, he realizes that somewhere in his rush to get Tweek medical attention after nearly blinding him with his stupid-ass spiky wallet, he must have dropped both dollar bills. "Shit, sorry," he begins babbling, "I had it, I swear, I was holding it earlier, I just–"
"What– no," Tweek reaches out and grabs both of Craig's hands, "I was kidding– you know what, it's fine, here's your refund." He kisses Craig again, a little slower this time, like he's trying to convey a message that he would never be able to put into words.
"Oh. So, uh, this is… This is for real?" Craig asks, breathlessly, the second time they break apart. He licks his lips, the faintest hint of coffee lingering on his tongue. "Not just, uh, for the animals, I mean?"
Tweek laughs, scooting his chair closer so that he can rest his head against the noirette's shoulder. "No," he confirms, resting one hand on top of Craig's arm, "this is for real. I mean… I can't go charging my boyfriend two dollars every time I kiss him, can I?"