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"Do I squat?"
"Jesus, Tweek. You're helpless."
"You agreed to help me!"
"You'd be lost without me," Wendy says, her voice high and bossy, and Tweek knows it is true. He is completely lost with her. He doesn't even want to imagine what it would look like if he was all on his own. "Yes, cupcake. Bend over."
"Har-har," Tweek huffs, squatting awkwardly and trying to get a look. It doesn't work. He can't see shit. Double har-har.
Wendy sighs loudly and the sound of her magazine crumpling as she places it on the toilet lid is the universe telling Tweek: You are useless at this. How will Craig want you if you can't even clean yourself up nice?
Wendy pokes her head up and peers through the sheer part of the shower curtain. It's pretty useful, and it always has been. It leaves only Tweek's face visible. Wendy and Tweek have had plenty of discussions through this shower curtain- positions usually switched.
"You don't have to look." Wendy is very knowledgeable. That isn't Tweek's way of calling her a skank. She just knows how to take care of herself- and how to look nice for a man. "You put the shaving cream on?"
"It is quite literally dripping off my ass," Tweek says blandly, frowning at her. She raises her eyebrows.
"Tweek! That's my good stuff! Don't use it all up." She drags her long nails through her ponytail. "You shouldn't be able to see me. Squat all the way down and shave."
Tweek does as he is told. It is uncomfortable. Much more uncomfortable than he'd expected, actually. "How often should I rinse it off?"
"Every swipe."
"Every swipe! I've swiped like four times already!"
"You have?! Those last three have been like, useless than!"
Tweek groans, wanting to give up. He should just cancel the whole thing. Tell Craig he isn't up to it and cuddle up in Wendy's bed and watch Pretty in Pink.
Tweek holds the razor under the running showerhead and watches in disgust as shaving cream and hair plops miserably onto the white floor of the tub. "This is disgusting, Wends."
"Well you can't back out now. They'll call you 'half-ass-Tweek.'"
Tweek is quiet.
"Because you half-assed it. And 'cause your ass is half-shaven."
"I got it, Wendy!"
Wendy snickers, dragging the shower curtain to the side and poking her head in. Tweek frowns at her. They've been friends since diapers- he doesn't even flinch. "Turn around, lemme see."
"My ass cheeks?" Tweek snorts, turning around. "As underwhelming as always."
"Well I can't see anything like that," Wendy says, eye-roll showing through her voice. "Spread 'em."
"Eww," Tweek says, but he does it anyway. "Don't phrase it like that."
Wendy laughs again. "Makes me sound like a dude. Yeah, you aren't even a quarter done, babe."
Tweek whines, stomping his foot like a little kid. He turns back around and Wendy is no longer sticking her head in the shower. "So I rinse it every time? Are you serious?"
"It's not the razor's fault you have a hairy ass."
"Everyone has a hairy ass. You're the only person on the planet that shaves it."
Tweek is aware that statement is very wrong, and he is sure Wendy is aware he is aware, but she will correct him anyways. "No way. Ask any girl."
"You want me to go up to a girl on the street and say, 'hey, do you shave your asshole?'"
Wendy giggles. "You'd get smacked."
"Or I'd get a restraining order."
After a few minutes, Wendy turns up the volume on her CD player. Tweek thinks he is finished. "Is it supposed to burn?"
"Burn?" Wendy says, poking her head in again. Tweek turns around. "Maybe a little. I think it burned a little the first time I shaved."
"But you shaved your vagina. I don't have one of those."
Wendy tuts. "You're good. Hair-free."
"Really?!"
"As good as you're gonna get." Wendy flashes a thumbs up and is gone again. "Clean your hands with the soap bar before you do anything else, swamp-ass."
"I don't have swamp ass." Tweek cleans his hands and pours some of Wendy's coconut-scented body wash on a loofa. He scrubs at his body harshly, like it'll rid him of all his imperfections.
Wendy hums along to Britney and taps her nails against the porcelain toilet lid. Tweek uses her nice shampoo and makes sure not to put the conditioner on his roots.
"I'm nervous."
"Oh, cupcake." Wendy lowers the volume. "It'll be fine. And look at you, you managed to OCD your first time. How cute and you is that?"
"I'm not joking, Wends!" Tweek whines, sitting down on the ledge of the bathtub. "What if everything is super awkward after? What if I suck? What if he hates me?"
"He won't hate you, Tweek. He's like, obsessed with you. It's a little gross."
"Yeah." Tweek lets himself huff out a small laugh. "It is kinda gross."
Wendy pokes her head in. She holds out a pinkie and Tweek wraps his own pinkie around hers. "I promise it'll be okay. And if you change your mind, Craig won't care. He just wants you to be happy."
"I know. That's the worst part. I want to do this for him." Tweek drags a hand through his hair and cringes at the slimy conditioner that coats his hand. "How much longer do I have to keep this in?"
Wendy frowns. "A minute more. And don't do this for him. Do it for the both of you. You don't have to if you don't want to."
"But I do want to. I'm just... god." Tweek puts his head in his hands, narrowly missing getting conditioner in his eyes. "What if it fucks everything up?"
Wendy brings their conjoined pinkies to rest on the cold side of the tub. "It won't. He loves you too much to let something silly ruin anything."
"It's normal to be nervous, right?"
"Totally normal." Wendy nods. "I was super nervous, and I didn't have a week's notice."
Tweek wrinkles his nose at her. "It's weird, right?"
"That you guys planned it? Kind of." Wendy shrugs. "Did you put it on your calendar?"
Tweek stares at her.
"Oh my god, you did." Wendy laughs, letting go of his hand. "Rinse."
"It'll hurt," Tweek says as he scrubs at his hair.
"At first."
"It'll be gross."
"Sex is gross in general."
"I'll have no idea what I'm doing."
"Neither will he." Wendy tosses a bottle into the shower. Tweek picks it up and sees it is labeled as a hair mask. Whatever that means. "You're gonna work yourself up over it. You'll freak out, and then you'll say you've changed your mind- which is okay- but then you'll feel guilty and cry yourself to sleep while he's passed out like a clueless oaf."
Tweek slathers some of the bottle's contents on his hair. "You know me too well. It's like having my brain talk to me."
"If your brain could talk to you, it would just scream. Keep that in for ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?!"
"Yeah, yeah. You still have a few things to do in there while it's marinating."
Tweek hates how frequently and how incorrectly she uses the word 'marinating.'
"Clean your nails and toenails, wash your back and chest with the blue face wash, wash your face with the white face wash and leave it on for 30 seconds, exfoliate- that's a big one- and clean your ears out."
"Why my ears?"
"What if he kisses them and there's earwax?"
"Eww," Tweek groans, plopping the sandy-textured goop Wendy raves about on his legs. "You think of everything."
"Mhmm." Wendy sounds awfully proud of herself. "Stan once complained that my legs weren't as soft as usual. I didn't use that shit the day before."
"Weird he can notice that." Tweek laughs at her. She can tell he is using the scrub just from the smell. It smells like coffee, but not real coffee. More like scratch-and-sniff sticker coffee.
"He notices everything. I'm sure you won't have that problem with Craig."
"Are you calling my boyfriend stupid?"
"Maybe a little." Wendy smothers a laugh. "Just a bit clueless."
"I think it's cute." Tweek says indignantly. "He's always been that way."
"Remember when he asked you out?" Wendy snorts. As if Tweek could forget. "When the- the flowers still had the roots and the dirt on them?"
"Very funny." Tweek remembers very clearly. Little Craig was so endearing. He always wore that chunky scarf and that ugly hat, and his nose was near constantly running. Tweek had been sitting at a bench with Wendy, licking a popsicle. It was just starting to get warm and Tweek was wearing his favorite long-sleeve t-shirt. Craig came up to the two of them and stared at Tweek with big brown eyes.
"Alone?" He'd said. Little Craig always spoke in short, to-the-point sentences. He is still like this, actually, but now it comes off (to strangers, at least) less as cute and more as rude. Tweek had nodded and followed him over to the big tree by the fence. Craig had disappeared for a second and come back with a huge handful of daffodils- roots and dirt included. "Want to be boyfriend-boyfriend?"
Well, it was obviously a question, but it sounded more like a statement. A period would probably fit better than a question mark. Tweek had tilted his head at him and thought very deeply.
"Sure, okay."
And that was that.
Tweek finishes scrubbing his nails, turns the shower off, and swings open the curtain in one smooth motion.
"No warning." Wendy doesn't sound shocked. "Just, boom! Dick out!"
Tweek swats at her head and misses. "Which lotion do you want me to use?"
"Oh my god." Wendy waves her hands around in the air as Tweek dries himself off. "I just bought this new one, it smells like actual frosting."
"Ooh." Tweek makes a face at her. "Hand it over."
She is right. it very much does smell like frosting. It's a bit strong, but Craig likes sweets.
He looks at himself in her floor-length mirror. He pulls his boxers up and pushes his bangs away from his eyes. He frowns at his reflection.
Wendy comes to stand behind him; she puts her chin on his head and her hands on his shoulders. "I can't believe you two have waited this long. You know people think you've been having sex since like, 7th grade, right?"
"7th grade is vile." Tweek shudders. He looks at himself. He is short and thin and pale. He has a few pimples on his cheeks and deep eyebags.
"Tweek," Wendy says, and Tweek knows she is reading his mind. "You aren't a girl. So stop looking for one."
"But I-"
"He doesn't want a girl. He could look at one with the prettiest face and huge boobs and still want you."
"But what about when he goes away for college and there's other gay guys? Cuter ones?"
Wendy shakes her head. "He won't even think about them." She squeezes his shoulders. "Tweek. You're overthinking it."
Tweek lets out a small, pathetic whine. "Just kill me." He lets his legs go limp and starts to fall to the ground- as always, Wendy catches him. She holds him up from under his arms and presses her nose to his.
"You're doing it."
"I'm doing it," Tweek whispers, stomach full of dread.
"You're doing it, and you are going to like it."
"I don't know-"
"Tweek! You're doing it!"
"I'm doing it."
Wendy smiles and straightens his posture. "Lets put on that cute outfit."
"It's just jeans and a t-shirt."
"Ah-ah," Wendy says, wagging a finger. "Your one and only tight-ish fitting t-shirt. This is big, cupcake."
Tweek lets out a breath and figures even if it does end poorly, at least he has Wendy. Even if he is super embarrassed and has to run to her, at least she will always be there to run to. That's enough for Tweek, he thinks.