Chapter Text
Tweek wants to drown in Craig. His touch, his scent, his warm, warm eyes. The scratch of barely-there stubble when Craig whispers the most embarrassingly sweet things in his ear as easily as breathing air.
Fingers work low and lower, down the buttons of Tweek’s flannel, then kisses, soft and firm and so so ticklish , trail up the freshly exposed skin. When lips reach Tweek’s collarbone, he feels the slow drag of featherlight touches from his wrist to his shoulder, an agonizing pace that’s almost teasing—
But Craig doesn’t tease. He told Tweek so, back when Tweek used to get impatient and huff at him to hurry up. He just likes taking his time exploring.
And, despite Tweek’s naturally urgent personality, he has to agree there’s really nothing better than being so carefully savored.
Craig tugs gently, questioningly, at the shoulder of Tweek’s flannel, as if he still has to ask if he can pull it down, if he can see, if he can touch— As if Tweek’s answer hasn’t always been an eager, dizzy nod, as if Tweek will be saying anything other than yes please until their last breath together.
With Tweek’s hungry permission, Craig has just barely pushed the fabric past the curve of his shoulder, when his hand suddenly abandons the task to cup Tweek’s jaw instead. Tweek, eyes still closed, sighs into the touch, turning his head slightly to kiss the palm.
Craig runs cold, a fact he’s a little insecure about due to the occasional reflexive jolt from Tweek when his fingers or feet are particularly icy. Tweek likes it, though.
He likes that it balances out his own naturally higher body temperature and tendency to overheat when anxious. Likes pulling Craig back closer when he retreats apologetically like a kicked puppy, reassuring him with the heat of his own limbs until they’ve evened each other out to equal warmth. Likes that Craig’s skin is woven by the chilly night air of old boy scout camping trips when they would sneak out of their tents to look at the stars.
Right now, Craig’s hand feels perfectly cool against the hot flush of Tweek’s cheeks, but the refreshing temperature isn’t what makes Tweek lightheaded with euphoria. It’s the familiarity with the calluses under the middle and ring finger, one rougher than the other; It’s the sweetness of the hold, more gentle than anything he’s ever known; It’s the scent of forest and salt, telling him Craig showered after work and then spritzed a bit of the cologne he got for Christmas before coming over; It’s the knowledge that this is his Craig and this is their time together.
Craig Tucker’s skin could be made of dry ice or lava or lightning, and Tweek Tweak wouldn’t know how to do anything except press greedily into it.
“When is he coming back?”
“Huh?”
Tweek opens his eyes, still a little hazy with pleasure and unable to figure out who Craig could be referring to. It takes a few moments of blinking dumbly, then the tilt of Craig’s head and cock of an eyebrow, before Tweek’s brain returns to his body.
“Oh! Ng , right. Um… He isn’t.”
He winds his fingers in the collar of Craig’s shirt, intending to pull him down for more kisses, but Craig doesn’t budge, eyes flashing with something urgent .
“It’s over?”
“What?” Tweek pouts, partly in confusion but mostly in annoyance that they’re wasting time talking about him when they could be doing much better things with their lips. “No, I just meant, like, he’s not coming back tonight . Has to check on Kevin and Karen, make sure their fridge is stocked and stuff. Said he was gonna stay the weekend with them since they haven’t had a lot of time together recently. You can stay over.”
“Oh.”
Tweek was expecting a slightly more enthusiastic response, but Craig sounds almost… disappointed, that they can fall asleep together tonight and start tomorrow in each other’s arms.
(Like real couples do, like they could’ve been, like they should be, like they almost are-)
He searches Craig’s eyes for a clue, but there’s only the green of guarded ivy walls.
“What- Ah , what’s wrong? You don’t wanna?”
“ No - Uh,” Craig shakes his head, softness returning to the green and lining the upward curve of his lips. “Nothing’s wrong, of course I wanna stay with you. I was just- Thinking about what time I should set my alarm for, if I have to stop by my house before going to work tomorrow morning.”
“Oh.” Disappointment settles heavy in Tweek’s chest, which is ridiculously greedy considering they spend every minute of coinciding free time they have behind closed doors together. “Morning? I - nh - I thought you didn’t work until the afternoon on Sundays.”
Craig sighs, nose scrunching nearly imperceptibly.
“I didn’t . I switched shifts with this guy who had a dentist appointment in the morning.”
“Oh. That’s… Nice of you.”
“And stupid.” Craig rolls his eyes. “Remind me never to do it again.”
Tweek snorts, biting his lip to stifle the grin at how equally annoyed Craig is by the loss of a few lazy morning hours together. He can’t worry about being too needy or clingy if his boyfriend is just as unhealthily attached.
“ Agh , it’s just bad timing this once. It’ll be good for, like, team-bonding or whatever, if you help them out more often and ask for favors. Then they’ll stop being dicks to you.”
“I don’t really care if they’re dicks to me.”
“ I care.”
Sometimes, like now, Tweek feels like one of the broken cars Craig works on. Craig will stare at him so intensely, eyes flicking between Tweek’s like he’s lifting the hood and searching for the problem.
Tweek doesn’t know if Craig has ever found what he’s looking for, but he always feels the attempt deep inside, feels Craig’s hand searching around, tightening the nuts and bolts in his very soul.
Craig’s eyes stop their search, instead flicking down to Tweek’s lips, and Tweek can see the earlier passion reignite in them, like campfire sparks against pine tree backdrops. His stomach twists excitedly, neck arching up for the kiss—
Then the sound of jaunty whistling and keys jingling at the door slices through their perfect bubble, and Craig curses, fingers flying up Tweek’s shirt to rebutton it at record speed. They’ve barely managed to sit upright on opposite ends of the couch when the door swings open to reveal Kenny, wearing his usual orange snowboard jacket despite the fact they’re in the heat of August, toting a large trash bag in one hand.
“ Ack , hey dude,” Tweek greets with a quick glance, then refocusing as hard as possible on the movie he was supposed to be watching on the TV with Craig before they got carried away on the couch.
It’s no use. Kenny’s all-knowing gaze sears into his skin, and he can practically hear the sharp-toothed smirk as Kenny locks the door behind him, dropping his stuff on the floor and leaning on the kitchen island to continue staring at them.
“You know, it’s even more obvious when you sit ridiculously far apart than if I found you on top of each other.”
Tweek groans, eyes twitching shut but peeking one open to see Craig flipping Kenny off without moving his eyes from the TV.
Kenny, recognizing the scene playing just from the audio (which is unsurprising considering the three of them have seen this movie together a billion times), makes a faux-scandalized gasp, eyebrows shooting up and amber eyes twinkling with mischief.
“You guys got off to fucking Predator ? I didn’t peg you as the violent porn type, but I can share some links if you’re-”
“Fuck off!” Tweek shrieks just as Craig says the same retort, albeit in a much flatter tone. “It just kind of- Ngh , it’s not like we were thinking about the movie while- Rck - What’s in the bag?”
“Smooth, I hardly noticed the desperate change of topic,” Kenny teases with a grin, but goes along with it anyway. “Uh, it’s just some of Karen’s clothes that need fixing up.”
“Oh.” Tweek picks at a cuticle. “Is, ah , is that why you’re back? To get your sewing machine?” He feels terrible for wishing so hard that that’s all Kenny’s here for, that he’ll leave as soon as possible, considering this is his apartment as much as it is Tweek’s. But they were getting somewhere earlier, and Craig won’t do anything if Kenny’s in a five mile radius.
“Nah, I’m fixing these tomorrow. Karen got invited to a sleepover and Kev didn’t seem like he needed me around, so…”
Kenny shrugs nonchalantly before turning around to grab a Coke from the fridge, but something in his voice makes Tweek suspect there was another reason for coming back. Now he really feels like shit for wanting Kenny to leave earlier.
“ Agh , well that’s- That’s good, because now you can watch with us!”
He tacks on a bright smile, and maybe it’s a little forced, but it’s not like he’s lying about looking forward to Kenny’s company. Kenny squints at him weirdly while popping open his Coke with a fizz so satisfying it makes Tweek’s mouth water for his own.
“I can still go home tonight if you guys had plans-”
“No! We- We want you here. Right, Craig?”
Craig gives a curt nod.
“Okay…” Kenny still looks dubious, wavering between heading for the bedroom and joining them on the couch. “If I knew you were coming over I wouldn’t have intruded-”
“ Dude , just get over here,” Craig cuts in with a sigh.
Underneath the harsh tone, it’s obvious Craig has also picked up on Kenny’s need to be somewhere safe right now. The three of them have been a package deal for years; There’s nothing they can hide from each other. There’s not really any space to hide anything anyway, considering their… arrangement .
“Well, damn, don’t get too excited on my account.”
It always amazes Tweek how quickly Kenny can bounce back into his playful persona, all traces of sour mood or awkward tension evaporating from his voice in a snap.
“Yeah, my tail is wagging. Grab me a root beer.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
“ Ah , can you get me a Coke, too?”
Kenny barks out a laugh, the sound of cans and glass bottles clinking while Craig’s eyes bore into the side of Tweek’s face.
“Smart choice, Tweeks. Looks like I finally converted you to my cult.”
“I just - nh - tried one while you were out yesterday and it wasn’t- wasn’t so bad.”
“Woohoo, now we can be a proper Coca-Cola household!”
Craig is still staring, like, way too seriously at Tweek for something as trivial as soda-betrayal. But Craig’s always taken his likes and dislikes with an extremity that has Tweek picking at his cuticle harder and wondering if his change of mind really is that big a deal. He decides to clarify with his boyfriend, just in case.
“I still- Agh , I still like root beer more, I just- Coke is pretty good, too. You should try it again, maybe your palate has changed-”
“You still like root beer more.”
It’s hard to tell if Craig is asking a question or simply reaffirming Tweek’s claim.
“Yeah, I just- I feel like Coke right now.”
Kenny interrupts the weird conversation-that-feels-like-an-argument-but-totally-isn’t, plopping down heavily between them and thrusting their respective drinks into their hands.
“I don’t feel like watching just the end, can we put something else on?”
“I dunno, can you move your ass over first?”
Kenny rolls his eyes at Craig’s petulance but dutifully gets up, nudging Tweek to switch spots. Craig’s arm instinctively latches around Tweek’s waist to drag him closer, and Tweek uses every ounce of willpower in his body to resist cuddling and keep a few inches of distance between them, not wanting Kenny to feel like an unwelcome third wheel considering how hard he tries to accommodate their private time.
“You guys know I don’t mind if you continue whatever you were doing while I’m here right? Just like, go to the room before it gets-” he takes a swig from his can “- messy . Couches are expensive to clean.”
Tweek scrunches his face, smacking Kenny with the only throw pillow they have— a wiener dog made with some sort of scratchy canvas fabric that Kenny stole from Homegoods just to prove it could fit up his sleeve.
“I have better hygiene than you , ratboy. And I know you’re okay with- with that , you’ve been mentioning it so much lately I’m starting to think you have some kinda sick - ugh - voyeur kink.”
“Hey! I’m just looking out for you, don’t want you getting all worked up and stressed out about sneaking around.”
Kenny ruffles Tweek’s hair, then lets the arm drape behind him on the back of the couch. Tweek’s heart warms at the sentiment, at how preemptively considerate Kenny is of anything that could build up stress and lead to a patented Tweek-implosion.
“Oh. That’s- Ng , thanks, man.”
Tweek feels Craig’s grip tighten on his waist and frowns in concern, bringing one of his own hands over it to soothe with slightly jittery strokes. It’s extremely rare for Craig to get this moody. On most people it would seem like barely anything, but Craig is, like, the calmest guy on Earth— Well, aside from being a stickler for his routines, so maybe Kenny’s got him beat on that title. Or they’re tied. They both get random flare-ups of outbursts after holding shit in for forever, and then brush it off like it’s nothing.
The two could not be more different at first impression, but to Tweek who knows them inside out, sometimes they feel like two sides of the same coin.
He makes eye contact with Craig, widening his eyes beseechingly and tilting his head a little. A nonverbal ‘You okay?’
Craig gives a minute shake of his head and soft shadow of a smile in response. ‘ It’s nothing worth worrying about.’
Tweek decides to take his word for it, for now. Maybe it’s just pent-up tension from earlier, or he’s secretly a little pissed Kenny intruded. But Craig’s never once complained about stopping in the middle of doing stuff , so Tweek is kind of at a loss.
Well, whatever it is that’s nagging at his mind, Craig will bring it up if he needs to. They’re good at that now.
“Let’s watch Psycho instead,” Kenny decides, picking through the case of DVDs on the coffee table (read: plastic portable folding table they stole from the high school).
Kenny bought a new TV for his family— more specifically, for Kevin and Karen —when they got this apartment, and he and Tweek took the old crappy one, so now they’re the only people in, like, all of Colorado to still be using DVDs.
Craig sighs. “Didn’t we just watch that, like, two weeks ago?”
“If you did, it wasn’t with me.”
There’s no malice in Kenny’s voice, but Tweek still squirms a bit with guilt. The three of them used to watch everything together, whether it was sneaking into the theater to see something new, or rewatching the same shit a million times like the boring losers they are.
It’s been getting tough lately, figuring out how they all… fit together.
Kenny’s been disappearing a lot more often during the day, withdrawing slowly like he thinks Tweek won’t notice (he does ). Which makes it nearly impossible to avoid unintentionally siphoning him into the third-wheel, couple’s-sidekick role.
Craig took more shifts at the auto shop over summer, and in two weeks, his work time will lessen but he’ll be busy with school. Thank god he goes to the local community college, because even just the chasm of conflicting schedules is hard on Tweek. He doesn’t think he could ever handle a long-distance ghost of a relationship.
And Tweek’s just been— God, there’s so much on his plate right now, he can’t even begin trying to list it out without his breath getting a bit shallow. On paper, he has the most free time out of the three of them, with no school like Craig or multiple jobs like Kenny. But he’s also got so many shitty loose ends to tie up from his parents’ bullshit, and it feels like the tasks just keep multiplying the more he completes, like slicing a hydra’s head off.
So, yeah, it’s hard enough getting time with them individually, let alone the three of them pissing around like they used to.
“Let’s watch Rope ,” Craig counters.
“You always wanna watch Rope .”
“It’s always good.”
“Okay, if not Psycho , we’re doing Rear Window .”
“Why, because of your voyeur kink?”
“So what if it is?” Kenny easily challenges with a stupid wink over his shoulder as he gets up to switch out the discs.
“I feel like I should get more say in what we watch, considering they’re my DVDs.”
It’s true, almost their entire collection is from Craig’s brief stint working at an outdated video shop in tenth grade that closed, like, two months after he was hired. The only things Tweek and Kenny have contributed are a scratched up copy of Godzilla and a few dollar-bin pornos.
“They might be your DVDs-” The DVD player whirs and eats up the new disc, making it clear the debate is over and they’re watching Rear Window. “-but I let you fuck my boyfriend, so I think that earns me a few favors.”
It’s far from the first time Kenny’s made that joke or something along a similar vein about their situation. It’s practically his go-to excuse whenever he needs to win something dumb and trivial (‘ the law says mistresses have to pay for lunch,’ ‘cheaters don’t get the last popsicle,’ etc.). They always roll their eyes and tell him that won’t work forever, but end up acquiescing anyway. Tweek, because he feels bad about what a truly awkward position it must be for Kenny, hanging out with his fake boyfriend and his fake boyfriend’s real boyfriend. Craig, because he’ll do anything to get Kenny to shut up.
Some days, the joke just doesn’t seem to land , and Tweek feels the turbulence of a plane diving to the ground but never quite touching the runway.
“He’s not your boyfriend.”
“He’s mine to the town.”
Today is apparently one of those days.
Tweek tugs at the hem of his shirt uncomfortably, willing himself to suddenly gain the ability to steer them into a smooth landing.
“ Hng- Would you both shut up? I don’t wanna miss any of the opening sequence.”
Kenny is successfully distracted, eyes lighting up as he hurries to settle back on the couch and not miss anything either.
“Man, I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen my girlfriend.”
Tweek furrows his brows.
“Your girlfr-?” Then he remembers Kenny’s longtime obsession with Miss Torso, the dancer in the movie. “Oh, jeez, you’re just as much of a creep to her as Jeff is.”
“I’m not a creep, I’m an appreciator of the arts.”
“Uh huh. Creep.”
Craig’s grip has loosened, arm relaxing enough for the hand on Tweek’s stomach to fall and rest on his thigh instead. Kenny takes another loud swig from his can.
Tweek can still feel a little residual shakiness from the urgent landing, a bit of bounce in the wheels. But the worst of it is over, and tomorrow, when Craig and Kenny are in better moods, and once they get some more time to hangout as a trio, the plane will take off again, soaring along as smoothly as ever.
For now, the slight shakiness is nothing compared to the absolute safety Tweek feels sandwiched between his two favorite people in the world, Kenny’s arm stretching out to drape behind him again, Craig scooting in closer until their thighs touch, how easily they still find new jokes to crack about the same shit they’ve seen a thousand times.
It’s a complicated situation, for sure, and if it were with anyone else Tweek would have bailed long ago on account of it being way too much pressure. But everything’s a lot easier when the three of them get through it together.