Work Text:
Tweek hates parties. Hates how there’s so many people around, talking, chatting, laughing, so carefree and easily. Hates how claustrophobic the large groups makes him feel, especially when all gathered around a giant campfire in Stan Marsh’s backyard, to mourn the end of the summer and celebrate the beginnings of high school.
Tch. High school. Tweek has heard many things about it. None of them any good. More people in the school. Older kids. Mean older kids. The kind who like to shove people into lockers. And the teachers are stricter. Harsher. They don’t take bullshit or excuses. No more ‘I didn't do my homework because my dad made me run the coffee shop,' or ‘sorry, I didn’t sleep because I drank too much coffee while test tasting flavors for the new fall line.’
Yeah. Automatic zero. He’d fail the course. Fail school. Flunk right out, never graduate.
Urgh. He’d be doomed to the coffee shop forever.
He peers up from his position of holding his head in his hands and studies his fellow classmates. Tolkien and Jimmy are conversing in some beach chairs. Stan, Kenny, Kyle, and Cartman have a cornhole game going, though right now Kyle and Cartman seem to be at each other’s throats while Stan and Kenny watch with impatience.
Tweek’s eyes continue to roam. There's Wendy showing off something on her phone to Nichole and Bebe. Heidi’s chatting with Henrietta. Clyde has his shirt off for some reason and is roasting some marshmallows. Isn’t he afraid to get burned by the sparks?
Tweek hugs his arms closer to his chest, as if his own were in danger of being hit by the flying sparks from the flames.
“You okay?”
A familiar voice causes Tweek to snap his head towards his right side.
Craig.
“Er, yeah.” Tweek mutters. “Fine.”
Craig is…well…Tweek doesn't know what Craig is to him, really. They had that stint in elementary school where they held hands and pretended they were dating just to appease those weird girls. But as that phase fizzled out, so did their supposed relationship. They still had a sort of…friendship, Tweek supposes, but nothing major.
In all honesty, Tweek was the one who distanced himself after that fake-dating period. He didn’t like the way his hands got all clammy after holding Craig’s hand, or the way his heart seemed to skip every time Craig put an arm around him. He already was constantly on a caffeine high, he didn’t need his heart beating out his chest anymore than he needed.
So he kept him at arm’s length, not really close but not really out of each other’s lives. He was there to support Craig getting braces and helped assure him that they looked fine. Craig was there to help Tweek with a math exam that he had unfortunately forgotten about until the last minute, studying with him and making flashcards with certain equations.
It works, Tweek thinks.
“You don’t look fine,” Craig replies. His voice is monotonous, as it usually is, but there’s a slight hint of concern. God.
“Agh, I’m fine!” Tweek exclaims, sitting up straighter, his arms now folded tightly against him. “Why am I even here?”
He doesn't mean to say it out loud, but he does anyway.
Craig arches an eyebrow. “Because it’s a party? Parties are fun.”
Tweek narrows his eyes. “You don’t even like Stan.”
Craig shrugs. “I like campfires. I like hanging out with my friends. I like summer nights.”
Tweek scratches at a scab on his arm. “There’s too many people here.”
Kyle and Cartman have now decided to start having a shouting match, causing Tweek’s eye to twitch. God. So many noises. He can hear the crackling of the flames, the nasal laughter of the girls, the crunching of grass, the—
“Tweek,” Craig interrupts his thoughts. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
“Ah—what?”
“You heard me,” Craig sounds calm. That bastard. He is always calm. How can anyone be calm with this amount of noise?
He makes a gesture with his chin, motioning Tweek to follow him. “Let’s go.”
Tweek fidgets with his shorts, playing with the seam at the bottom. There’s a slight tear, but it’s his favorite pair, and well, he doesn’t know how to sew. And his mom’s too busy to fix them. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, before opening and standing up. He brushes his hands on his shorts and turns to face Craig. “Okay.”
Craig gives him a soft smile, sticking his hands in his sweatshirt pocket. Despite being summer, there is a bit of a chill as the evening sky settles in.
As they walk, the noise diminishes, and Tweek finds himself able to hear his thoughts again. He’s fidgeting with that scab on his arm, picking at it nervously. Why is he so nervous?
Stupid question—he’s always nervous. But why is this a different sort of nervousness?
He looks at Craig, who is occupied by the world around them, glancing around and admiring the scenery. Stan’s farm is in a fairly beautiful area, with lots of land and trees surrounding it. It’s no wonder that Craig is taking in the view.
Since elementary school, Craig has grown (obviously, they all have). He’s pretty tall, with trimmed dark hair. His signature hat has long since been abandoned, instead showing off his neatly combed hair, parted a bit to the side. His nasal voice deepened just a tad, but it still had that monotonous drawl that made it hard to distinguish exactly how he was feeling.
Craig turns his head at that moment, catching Tweek looking at him. Tweek feels his face heat up as Craig gives him a smile, showing off those braces that he seems to be insecure about.
Tweek’s heart skips several beats. Urg. This is why he kept his distance! It shouldn't be normal to feel this way!
He quickly averts his gaze, staring back at the scab on his arm. It’s grown red and angry at the constant picking, and it is definitely sore.
“You should stop picking at that,” Craig says. “You’re making it worse.”
“Gah! Why do you care if I make it worse?” Tweek huffs, his cheeks still red from being caught staring.
“Tweek,” Craig’s voice is steady. How does he manage to do that? Can’t he see there’s so much going on? “What’s going on? Is something bothering you?”
Is something bothering him? Yes. Everything that exists, actually. From the harrowing voices of their loud classmates to the smell of the smoke from the fire, tainted with a scent of marijuana that probably shouldn't be good for fourteen year olds to inhale.
Also the way Craig can just be…him. Cool. Collected. Nothing ever seems to bother him. He doesn’t react, doesn't seem to mind most things.
Ugh. Tweek wants to shake him like a rag doll and demand to know how he does it.
“I just—” Tweek sighs, hands flying to his hair, threading through his blond mess of a hair-do. “There’s so much…change! I mean. We’re starting a new school. High school. Do you know what happens in high school? Not good things!”
Craig merely tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow. “What ‘things’ are you referring to?”
“Don’t tell me you’re this unaware!” Tweek exclaims, his fingers starting to grip his hair tightly. “Ack! You’ve seen the movies! You’ve seen the way those older kids act! I'm gonna be shoved into lockers. Called a freak! And the teachers, they’re gonna fail me when I can't get my homework done! And what if I get lost? The high school is so fucking big! It’s like a maze! I don't know how you and everyone can be so fucking calm about this! It’s like—”
“Tweek,” Craig starts, putting a hand on Tweek’s shoulder.
Tweek knocks it off and continues. “No! How are you not freaking out? Why are we even celebrating? We're all screwed. We’re all fucked. High school is a shit time and I don't want to go! I don't want to—”
“Tweek!” Craig tries again.
Tweek’s pacing now, his fists tightly pulling at his hair. “Gah! It’s all too much. And we gotta start thinking about college, and where we wanna go, and what we wanna do, and filling out applications and wanting to figure out who we are and—”
“Honey!” Craig exclaims, a bit louder. He grabs Tweek by the shoulders. “It's gonna be fine. It’s all gonna be just fine.”
Tweek’s mouth opens and closes. Did…did Craig just call him honey?
“I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now,” Craig continues, his hands sliding down Tweek’s shoulders, following the lengths of his arms until they reach his hands. His fingers gently caress Tweek’s palms before they interlock. “But really, it’s going to be okay.”
Tweek swallows, his face heating up like it’s a damn furnace. He’s doing that thing he used to do when they pretended to date. That…anxiety reducing tactic that…somehow always worked.
Craig’s thumbs rub against Tweek's hands in a soft, soothing motion. “It’s different, yeah, but we’re all still here. We’re in it together. And high school…it’s different from those movies, babe. They’re over exaggerated Hollywood bullshit. I don't think anyone is going to be shoving you into any lockers. I think they’d target Cartman over you, anyway. Dude has a bigger mouth than anyone.”
Tweek stares at their conjoined hands. Watches Craig’s fingers soothingly stroke his pale skin. “I—I suppose?” Babe?! What is this? What is going on? Why is he calling Tweek that?
“And I’d never let anyone hurt you, either.” Craig goes on to say, offering Tweek a soft smile. Why does he look so fucking cute in those braces? Why does it make Tweek want to just melt into a puddle on the ground? “I'll always have your back.”
“O-oh…” Tweek doesn't look away from their hands. Why does it feel so nice? And there’s this…feeling…like the same one he’d feel if he was looking at his old childhood toys. What’s the word? Nostalgic?
“As for homework and tests and stuff, we can study together. I'm sure we'll be in some of the same classes. And we can walk together too…so you won’t get lost.”
Tweek looks up at him. “Really?”
Craig nods. “Yes, really.”
Tweek’s bottom lip quivers nervously, his face still feeling flushed. He looks around, trying to gauge his surroundings. They’re far enough away from everyone to go unnoticed.
His eyes fall back to their hands. Craig gives them a little squeeze. Tweek feels his shoulders droop a bit, suddenly not as tight. His heart rate steadies.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Craig’s voice is soft as he leans forward, planting a kiss on the top of Tweek’s hair. “I've got you, babe.”
That causes Tweek to freeze entirely. Did…did Craig just kiss his hair?
Tweek’s reaction must have triggered something in Craig too, maybe a stroke of realization, because he stops in his tracks too.
Oh God. This is too much. His heart is racing again. Why is his heart beating so fucking loud? Why is it so fucking hot? Is it the fire? No. The fire is too far away. What the fuck?
“Uh…” Craig suddenly pulls away, letting go of Tweek’s hands. He nervously rubs the back of his neck, face flushing. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I guess I reverted back to…to old habits.”
Tweek’s eyes glance at Craig, who is averting his gaze. Tweek’s never seen him so…so flustered.
“It’s just that you were freaking out, and I didn’t want you to spiral.” Craig rubs his own arm awkwardly. “I just remember knowing how to help you back when when we're in elementary school…but I guess it's a little weird now…considering we’re not…dating. Or…at least pretending to be. I'm sorry.”
“Gah! No! It’s—” Tweek’s eye twitches as he reaches out to grab Craig’s arm, but misses and grabs at his shirt. Why is he doing that? Does he have a fucking death wish? What is wrong with him? “Ack! Fine! It’s fine!”
Craig eye’s widen at Tweek's strong grip on his shirt, watching as it bunches up in his fist.
“It…it helped!” Tweek exclaims. “What you were doing.”
Craig’s eyes bounce between Tweek’s fist and gaze. “It did?”
“Yes!” Tweek huffs out, letting go of Craig's shirt. “You…you helped…calm me down. I don't…I don't mind how you did it!”
God, Tweek. Get a fucking grip! Somehow, his face feels even redder.
“Oh,” Craig says plainly. “Well…good.”
Tweek takes a deep breath, or rather, he tries to. It comes out more like a pant. Fuck! He was calm! Then Craig had to pull away, and now it's awkward, and he probably hates him, and Tweek now misses the feeling of those slightly calloused hands on his, and ugh! Why does he have to ruin everything? Why can’t he just stop acting like a—
“Hey,” Craig waves a hand in front of him. “I don’t want you freaking out again. Stay with me.”
Tweek nervously fiddles with his hands. “I—sorry.”
Craig shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry.” He sighs. “If anything, I'm the one who crossed a line.”
“No!” Tweek seriously needs to learn to control his volume. “No,” he repeats, a bit quieter. “You…ack. I liked it.” Deep breath, Tweek. Inhale, exhale. “I—I’m not good with explaining.”
“It's okay.” Craig responds softly. “You don’t have to explain.”
Tweek sucks in a breath, his eyes looking down at his fidgeting hands. “I always liked it when you held my hands.”
Christ, someone could probably start another campfire with the flush on his face. He refuses to look at Craig, can’t bring himself to.
Craig’s hand enters his field of view before lightly grabbing onto one of Tweek’s fidgeting ones. He links their fingers together, just as before, and Tweek’s head snaps up to meet Craig’s gaze. Craig has a glimmer of amusement in his brown eyes, and slight smile, and the hint of a blush on his cheeks.
“I always liked holding them.” Craig says, though his voice is a bit shy. He lets out a sigh. “You know, if I had to be honest, Tweek. I missed being able to do this.”
Tweek stares up at him, eyes wide. “Really?”
Craig nods. “Yeah. I don't know. It’s strange. But I miss it.”
Tweek’s thumb starts to idly move, brushing against Craig’s skin. “Me…me too.” He huffs suddenly, his eyebrows furrowing. “But…those girls don't care about us anymore. There’s no need to…ugh…pretend.”
Craig is silent for a moment, his face bare and blank, gaze unreadable. It always made Tweek nervous, when he couldn't tell what he was thinking. Sometimes, it’s really hard to understand what Craig’s thoughts are.
But for some reason, despite his jitters, Tweek always had patience for Craig.
“What if…” Craig begins, his eyes trailing down to their conjoined hands. “We didn't pretend?”
Tweek feels like his heart stops. “Ack—What?”
The other boy clears his throat. “We should…do what we did as kids. But not pretending. If we both miss it…why not?”
“B-because! That’s…” Tweek is flustered, his free hand making large, gesturing motions. “That’s…I don’t know, man. I…”
He’s fumbling over his words, the prospect of the idea causing his heart to hammer loudly.
Craig shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s just a suggestion. I just think it’s beneficial to both of us…you know? I miss you, you miss me…I like holding your hands, you like holding mine…I just think it works.”
Tweek takes a moment to process what Craig is saying.
It's true—he does miss Craig’s touch, as evidenced by the fact he’s still holding onto his hand. And Craig had always been helpful and soothing. And when they pretended to date, even more-so.
It'd be nice to navigate the horrors of high school with someone like Craig by his side.
“Okay,” he says finally, his bright, blue eyes staring into Craig’s. “Yeah. Okay.”
Craig smiles. “Really?”
Tweek nods. “Yeah.” Then he frowns, a realization dawning upon him.
How can it be real? What will make it different from their previous venture?
Craig tilts his head. “What's wrong?”
Tweek draws in a sharp breath. “Just, ugh, thinking. About how we were before.” He scratches at the back of his head mindlessly. “If we act the exact same as we did, what will be the difference between it being real and it being fake?”
Craig shoots him a confused look. “Because we want it to be real?”
“Agh, well, yeah, but…” God, Tweek. Why do you suck at explaining things?! “Ugh! I don’t know what I'm saying.”
Craig chews on his bottom lip. “Well…there's something we never did before…”
Tweek arches his eyebrows. “What?”
In a flash, Craig leans in, pressing his lips to Tweek’s. It's brief, quick, no more than a peck, but it leaves him breathless.
“That.” Craig says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh,” Tweek manages, but it comes out sounding like a squeak. Embarrassing.
“So…that can prove it’s real.” Craig grins, showing off his braces. “‘Cause we never did that before.”
“Y-yeah…” Tweek stares at their still-conjoined hands. “We can do that…more.”
Fuck. His heart is pounding so loudly. But not in the caffeine way. In the good way, he thinks. If there even is a good way. Whatever, it’s different, feels different, and he hasn’t actually drank much coffee today.
“We can,” Craig replies. He gives Tweek’s hand a soft and gentle squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go back to the party.”
Right. The party. God. Tweek hates parties. “Will you…” Tweek starts. “Will you keep holding my hand?”
Makes him feel calmer, somehow. Makes him tolerate things more.
Craig nods and smiles. “Of course…honey.”
Yeah, Tweek’s heart leaps several feet. Could be a leap frog, probably.
He lets out another squeak, and Craig just chuckles before dragging him along, walking on the trimmed grass back towards the billowing smoke and the still sparkling flames.