Work Text:
Craig Tucker… didn’t have it all. But he thought he had everything that he needed, and therefore that was good enough. He had a nice-ish apartment which didn’t rape him of his finances like some absurd rental companies, he had a guinea pig that was the most perfect apartment pet to have, decent friends that didn’t tick him off all the time, an entirely normal 9-5 job with okay benefits, and a pretty easy-going commute to that job.
Every morning, before leaving his place, he’d grab the same computer bag, slip on the same worn-out dress shoes with Dr. Scholl’s comfort inserts, and right before closing the front door, he’d say goodbye to his guinea pig. “Bye, Stripe.”
He’d lived in a building that was neither particularly run-down nor upscale, it had been recently built in the last 15 years and the halls were always clean and never smelled (except for the slight smell down the end of his hall occasionally). The maintenance workers did a thorough job and always showed up promptly when any problems were reported. The building sometimes did cool community things, like asking for donations for canned goods around the holidays or some ethical shit like that. Craig thought that it was pretty thoughtful, although he didn’t care enough to participate. And his neighbors were all quiet and kept to themselves, for the most part.
As he briskly walked out the building’s entrance doors, he glanced at the watch on his wrist and then up at the sidewalks. Crisp, autumn morning air glided past his cheeks while he made his way through the streets, laptop bag swinging in his hand. And that easy commute that was mentioned? It was a perk Craig particularly enjoyed. Who wouldn’t enjoy living only 2-3 blocks from their workplace? It meant he didn’t have to buy a car or bring the one from his parents’ when he moved here.
City-living was surely so different from his small hometown. But the walkability from his home to his workplace was something he really relished. It allowed him to be able to spend some time outdoors, because most times he’d like to keep to himself at home. He often ruminated on how ideal his living location was. Not only was it so close to work, it also situated itself neatly around a couple good bars which he’d hit up with the guys sometimes on Fridays after work.
After that thought, Craig already found himself heading into the company’s building for work. He walked straight to the elevators, waiting for the numbers to lower after pressing the button. He blankly watched as the door opened, a few people following behind as he walked on. Quietly, he pressed his floor but cursed himself at the same time for stepping towards the buttons. Now, he had to awkwardly hover around the buttons and wait for others to tell him their floor numbers. It was fucking uncomfortable and one of his least favorite things ever: unnecessary social interactions.
He kept to himself as the elevator went up slowly, occasionally stopping as others hopped off. Soon, the door opened to his floor and he stepped out mildly annoyed with himself for his earlier action. He rolled his eyes at himself, thinking he needed to just get over it. As he approached his cubicle, he gently set his computer bag on the desk while the other free hand pulled out his office chair. Sitting down, the damn thing made a creaking noise much to his irritation. Irritation not because it made a noise, but because of what that noise was about to signal—
“Oh, Craig, you’re finally here!” A high-pitched voice called rather conceitedly from the other side of his cubicle wall.
Oh God, here we go again.
That high-pitched voice belonged to none other than Wendy, Wendy Testaburger. She was some know-it-all who always nagged him about his clients and sending out reviews on time. On her first day, when she moved into the cubicle next to his, she proclaimed him her “cubicle bestie,” although it was really just a guise for her to bitch at him about the other women in the office whenever they did something that made her “moral compass” go off. Not that he cared much anyway, for that matter. He would sit there, dissociate, staring at his monitor as he input values on Excel.
“Yeah,” he flatly answered, opening up his email to probably multiple dumbass messages from dumbass clients. What he really wanted to say was, ‘Yeah, I am here, at the same fucking time every damn day.’ He also fought the urge to give her the middle finger with everything he had in himself, God forbid he somehow ended up in HR with that dramatic asshole Kyle lecturing him about his behavior.
“Hey, did you hear the building hired a new mail guy?! Word has it he’s super hot!” Wendy squealed, her black hair and head popping up from over the cubicle wall. Her eyes peered over the divider to observe Craig’s expression, although she received his same old indifference.
Craig continued to sit there, silently responding to emails. Again, keeping his thoughts to himself. Really, if he wanted to set off Wendy, all he had to do was let it out that everyone knew she was fucking Stan from tax and it was no well-kept secret like she so proudly thought it was. Wendy liked to give off this idea she was “hard to get,” but she wasn’t apparently as difficult as she thought when she’d locked the printer room for 15 minutes and Stan was nowhere to be found. It would have really pleased Craig to see Stan and Wendy be reported for it.
I mean, they’re fucking on company time, on the company printer. Gross.
He wasn’t particularly fond of touching the printer anymore, either. But he knew Wendy and Stan would never be reported, it was what happened when someone was best friends with the little bitch in HR. They could do whatever.
In the sustained silence, Wendy frowned from the lack of response. “Gee, what would it take to get you excited for once?”
And surprisingly, at that moment, Craig stopped typing, pushed his chair back a little bit, and swiveled to Wendy’s direction. Without missing a beat, he blankly answered. “When the audit season is over, that excites me.”
Wendy’s mouth pressed into a thin line and she rolled her eyes. She finally turned away from him to sit down and work instead of gossiping, and when Wendy did shut up and did work, she actually worked pretty well. If the world was ending and Craig had to find one thing he liked about Wendy Testaburger, it was that despite all the annoying shit that came out of her mouth, she had an excellent work performance.
As he returned to typing, he thought for a minute. Not very much did excite him, actually. For the most part, he felt relatively neutral about most things, but deeply cared for his pet… was that it? While moving his mouse around, he lifted it up for a moment to reveal his NASA mouse pad. Oh, he thought space was neat, too.
The rest of his work day passed by inconsequentially. Lunchtime came around and passed, with a little bit of takeout from the local sandwich shop about a block away. Around 2:30, it was mail time. A few minutes after the typical time, the mail still hadn’t arrived. Craig could hear people softly abuzz with whispers, wondering where the mail was. Until finally, everyone heard the elevator ring and the doors open. A majority of people’s heads popped up over their cubicles, curious to see if the new mail guy was indeed hot.
However, the doors opened… and no one stepped out. A couple eyes could see the mail cart, but no person. At least, from what they could tell. More whispers rustled around in the office space and Craig could feel the irritation growing in his jaw as he clenched it. Was this mail guy really that big of a deal? And how come he hadn’t heard the elevator doors close yet?
He stubbornly kept his eyes to his computer, diligently trying to concentrate amongst all the commotion. Finally, the elevator doors began to slowly close and that was when everyone very clearly heard a shrill shriek of “AGH — No!” and the cart squeaked forward to stop the doors. More watchers added themselves to the small group already waiting for the mail cart to move, especially after hearing the sound of what seemed like another human being.
Slowly, very slowly, the cart creaked forward and people could spot fingers death clutching the handle, but not a person. By deduction, everyone realized, whoever the new mail guy was, he was hiding behind the cart. The murmurs of the office grew louder and louder, and with each passing “What is that?” or “Is he okay?” Craig felt himself growing increasingly pissed. Why wouldn’t everyone just shut the fuck up? He thought, if he had been the new mail employee, and he knew everyone was going to be curious about him, he’d do everything he could to avoid their gaze, too.
But that was unfortunately not the reason why the mail guy was hiding. Unbeknownst to the entire floor, behind the cart was a skinny, pale, trembling young man experiencing severe heart palpitations. Sooner or later, he had to stand up and hand mail to at least one of these people, and then the rest of them, that was how his job worked. And unfortunately for Craig, or at least he found it fortunate before this period in time, he had the cubicle closest to the elevator.
The purpose of being closest to the elevator made for quick entry and quick exits for the work day. The less people he had to pass by, the better. He found the location of his cubicle optimal but it also sent bells ringing when he came to the realization… He was always the first to receive mail. As he raised his head to stare straight and blankly, he blinked slowly as the inevitable, creaky mail cart steadily made its way to him.
And suddenly, it stopped. Only a few inches from Craig’s desk, he gradually turned his head for his eyes to spot the fingers hanging off the handle. Soon, bit by bit, spiky yellow hair came into view from behind the cart, and the expression on Craig’s face remained unchanged even though he noticed the guy was obviously shaking for God knows what reason. Then, at that moment, Craig’s eyes were met with the mail guy’s as he noticed the rest of his body crouching to the ground and sliding towards him.
His whole body was… trembling. And his right eye kept twitching. He kept the hand lateral to the cart on it and the other one tightly gripped his white button-down shirt. Only one thought crossed the young auditor’s mind as he observed the skinny guy hesitantly inching his way towards him.
What the fuck?
And then, with the whole office peeking at the interaction, Craig heard a raspy whisper from the new mail employee,
“Your — GAH! — n-name?”
In the middle of his question, he seemed to spasm with one eye squinting shut and the rest of his body jolting inwards. It was the likes of which Craig had never witnessed before and he continued to blankly stare at him. After a second, the strange guy flinched, as if in the lack of response he half-expected Craig to hit him for some reason.
Realizing he hadn’t answered yet, he softly cleared his throat and blinked. “Craig Tucker,” he replied.
Finally, with Craig’s return, he swiftly stood up from his crouching position to stand over the mail cart. Craig’s head followed the lanky employee’s body movements as his thin fingers combed through envelopes. Very quietly, Craig could see his lips say “Tucker…” and he felt a strange physiological reaction… His chest thumped.
Weird.
He thought while thinking back on that bodily response. Soon enough, the shaky blonde hesitantly handed over a couple letters. As Craig’s hand reached out and latched onto the mail, the new guy quickly swiped his hand back to his person in apparent (and unfounded to Craig) fear.
Craig’s eyes barely unfocused from the mail employee during their whole interaction. How could he not? The guy’s behavior alone was a freak show. Then, at that moment, Craig could have sworn for a split second, he saw the anxious spaz relax and sort of smile at him. As it happened in a brief instant, the exchange almost felt false in Craig’s working memory, because he had finally turned away and started pushing the cart to the next cubicle.
Craig stared at his idle monitor screen, the couple letters still in his hand resting over his thigh. He sat for a few seconds reflecting on the last two or three minutes of his life and how weird of an interplay that was. He took in a short breath and exhaled it, shaking off the unfamiliar feelings he had now been experiencing. As he brought his hands back to lie on his keyboard after setting the mail aside, he stopped pressing down on a key when he heard the cart creak to a stop.
Oh, shit.
The next cubicle was Wendy, and Wendy for sure was going to be surprised encountering…the likes of that. Whatever that was.
“Oh, hey!” Craig heard her usual, but unusually annoying, high-pitched greeting. And at her greeting, the poor sap sprung back in anxiety, trembling as he clutched the cart close to him and his collared shirt. His reaction caught her a little off guard and she tilted her chin inward. “…You’re the new mail guy, huh?”
“NGH! — Yes…” he answered uneasily through his clenched teeth. Wendy tried taking a small step closer to him to pat him on the back and be all 'warm and welcoming' like women were, but that only caused the kid to shrink back more. As if it had been one of the smartest things Wendy had ever done, she picked up on the social cue and decided not to touch him.
She tilted her head, continuing to smile at him. “The name’s Wendy Testaburger! Since you need that for the mail. Say, can I ask what your name is?”
Strangely, Craig’s ear perked up at her question. It wasn’t like he was curious or anything, she just talked too damn loud and her pissingly shrill voice just pierced his hearing. He couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. He’ll be able to focus back on work once the new guy had given her a response.
“Tweek — GAH!”
Tweek. How fucking appropriate. It had to be a joke at this point, he could not have been serious. That was his godforsaken name? Did his parents know before giving birth to him that he’d live to be the very embodiment of the name? Had to be some type of child abuse to name your kid that anyway. The best thing a parent could do was give their kid a normal, unassuming name, that way they avoid any mean nicknames and God, people must have had a field day with that kid having a name like that. Fucking Tweek.
“Tweek, huh…” She continued, cooing in a sweet voice. “That’s cute! It reminds me of a bird! Like a tweet, you know?”
With each passing word, her voice became louder and Tweek seemed to retreat even closer to his mail cart. By the end of her sentence, he was almost hugging the damn thing for safety.
“NGH! Uh — thanks…” he replied, extending a shaking arm out to her with her pile of mail. Wendy cordially took the mail and blinked at him with a smile. Tweek then hung his head down and continued onto the next person. He, once again, clutched onto the handle as if it was his only friend.
His go-around with the rest of the office lasted for probably about one hour. As he progressively moved further away, Craig could no longer hear how his interactions with the rest of the staff were going. The first few after Wendy, it transpired exactly as he had imagined it would — one of them was absolutely put off by Tweek and the other indirectly called him a freak of nature. All-in-all, it took him that long to deliver all the mail because he slinked around slowly and cautiously, but also from the rest of the floor being overly curious and probing him for information about himself.
They were not, in fact, able to go very far in that department. Anytime anyone tried, or so Craig had assumed it was someone trying, Tweek would shriek out in his little “GAH!”s or “NGH!”s, and sometimes even “AGH!”s, which could be heard across the office. When he had finally completed his loop, somewhere around 3:45, Craig heard the cart squeaking towards him at the corner. In anticipation of Tweek coming around, he began bouncing his leg, something he had never done before. He was the typical, still kind of guy who barely moved or showed any expression, but for some reason, this mail guy approaching set a type of expectancy off inside him. What kind of expectancy? He hadn’t been sure of it in the slightest.
However, that didn’t matter. He had already received his mail from Tweek, so there was no purpose in his stopping by again. Tweek would most likely just stroll right on by him, no second glances his way.
But to his surprise, he did not pass by him. The rusty wheels stopped right by his desk, catty-cornered. Craig felt air catch in his throat as he turned to look at Tweek, who suddenly looked as if he was going to spontaneously combust from apprehension.
“C-Craig Tucker — NGH! — Right?” He managed to shake out of himself, as his hands scrambled into the letters pulling out a singular envelope. “I accidentally missed one before — GAH!”
The blonde pulled at the end of his shirt, the tail of it coming out from his tucked waistline as the other hand hesitantly passed over the letter. Craig continued to blink as he reached for the piece of paper, still a little astounded that he ended up stopping by again — it was the first time in Craig’s life that he felt his thoughts coming to life. He, weirdly, anticipated his passing by, almost as if he had been hoping for him to stop — which, again, weirdly made no sense. He didn’t want to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, he too was curious about the new mail guy?
No, that sounds too fucking gay.
And that just wasn’t him. Not him at all. What was him? He was an average guy, who liked staying out of trouble, going out for a few drinks on the weekend, and hanging out with his guinea pig. He was never one to be overly curious about someone else’s business, that was how trouble was stirred up. Without realizing it, Craig still stared directly at him, and Tweek had continued to stand there as if he had been waiting in utter misery to be dismissed.
In one slow motion, Craig subtly nodded his head to the skinny young man who then skittishly pushed the cart over to the elevator. Tweek quickly tapped the ‘down’ button, his head slightly bent down over the mail. After a dull ding!, the doors opened and he shoved the squeaky handcart into the small cavity. The doors closed.
In the silence of the office, for some strange reason, Craig felt his ears burning.
The second 5:00 rolled around, Craig had already signed out, shut down his computer, zipped his laptop bag, and re-tied his shoelaces. He took a deep breath as he loosened his tie a little bit, then stood up from his seat. He had already started for the elevator by the time Wendy popped her head over the wall to say, “Guess it’s quitting time!”
She rolled her eyes when she saw he was already standing in front of the elevator; but very quickly those eyes squinted into a smile as she turned around to see Stan walking her way.
Good riddance, Craig thought as he stepped onto the elevator. It would only be a momentary riddance, as it was Friday and he would have to tolerate Wendy all over again when Monday eventually came around. Since it was Friday after all, that meant drinks with the guys at the bar around the corner. As Craig exited his office building, he looked up at the bluish-pink sky, the impending sunset spreading a gradient behind the skyscrapers.
He hadn’t realized it, but there was a little pep in his step as he headed through the throngs of people on the sidewalk. There had been just a small nip of cool air brushing through his arms as the evening slowly descended, but soon enough a flash of heat washed over his body when he stepped into the small corner bar. His head instinctively turned to the right, immediately spotting his friends standing around a small bar table against the far wall. A slight smile spread across his mouth as he approached them.
“Hey man, what’s up?” His taller, brown-haired friend greeted him.
As Craig drew closer to the table, he halfway rose his hand and gave a lazy wave. “Nothing much, had a shit day at work, what about you Clyde?” he answered.
Clyde let out a light chuckle. “When is it not a shit day for you?”
“Good point,” his second friend added in, tilting his beer bottle to point in agreement.
At that moment, the three guys shared a small laugh, and Craig waved a hand at the bartender to order. He and the guys had been there so often, they’d become the Friday night regulars and Craig always ordered the same drink. In a few minutes, he joined the rest of the guys with a light draft beer in his hand. As he casually sipped on it, he watched as Clyde leaned closer to Tolkien to whisper about some blonde chick across the way he wanted to take home. Tolkien subsequently laughed at the absurdity of it all; between him and Craig, they both knew Clyde had no game.
After a few rounds and some time had passed, they’d ordered some bar food and continued the night talking about their work week. Clyde had the most boring week out of the three of them, after all he was a bank consultant — which Craig and Tolkien couldn’t figure out how that happened, since he was mad stupid when it came to math. When it finally landed on Craig, Tolkien asked the literally golden question.
“Anything new over at the good old accounting firm?”
Craig paused before taking a sip, the tip of the bottle pressed to his lip. “I don’t know, I guess,” he said deadpan, slightly shrugging his shoulders.
“You guess? You asshole, in your speak that means something did happen,” Clyde prodded him.
“We just got a new mail guy, and he’s weird as fuck, that’s all.”
Tolkien and Clyde glanced at each other in surprise. Craig was never one to talk about anyone, really. Typically, if he talked about anyone, it was someone all three of them knew from back home. This was the first time he mentioned someone new.
“Well, how weird?” Tolkien asked.
“Dude, I don’t fucking know, weird-weird? The guy acts like someone’s going to fucking shank him at any second or something — he’s totally freaked out all the time. He also jitters like a fucking methhead.”
“I thought your company drug tested?”
“He doesn’t work for our office specifically, the building hired him. He’s the building mail guy, he just sorts it and delivers it. I don’t know if they drug test for something that insignificant.”
“That’s America for you,” Tolkien added.
“Well! That fucking sucks for you man,” Clyde sighed really loud. “But I’m not spending all night here listening to you bitch about a meth addict who probably reads porn in the building basement in his free time. I’m here with one objective—”
“To get laid, we know,” Craig retorted.
“Right, and I got my eyes on that pretty blonde over there, you see?”
Clyde used his head to motion across the room, where at the end of the bar was a long, curly haired blonde.
“It’s always blondes with you, man,” Tolkien shook his head.
“I mean, I like what I like, you know what I mean? Right, Craig? Blondes are hot as hell.”
Suddenly, Craig looked at the girl at the end of the room again. He thought, sure, she was pretty, but not that pretty, right? But her hair, if he had to like one thing about her, he thought yeah, he liked her blonde hair. Blonde hair? Has he always had a preference for blonde hair? He blinked, he has a preference for blondes? His eyebrows rose briefly with the acknowledgement and he took a quick swig, finishing his last beer.
Glancing at his wristwatch, he took a swift breath and exhaled. “It’s about time for me to head out, I’ll see you guys later.”
“All right, see you later dude,” Tolkien responded, still checked into their surroundings. Clyde, meanwhile, waved a peace sign and began making his way across the bar.
Maybe he had just had a long day, or maybe he actually had one too many beers, but Craig felt things were off as he waited to pay his tab. As he handed over his credit card to the bartender, he peeked at his watch again. It was only 9:30. To others, they’d consider it an early turn in, but for Craig it was a little bit later than he was used to. Typically, he would have been home by 8.
As the bartender handed back his card, he slipped it back into his wallet which he tucked into his pocket. He pressed his lips into a line, mildly grimacing as he exited the bar to walk home. And to home he went, it would be just him and Stripe.
Like it always was.
Craig let a small burp through his lips as he hopped off the elevator onto his floor. The neat thing about his apartment building was that as the day went on, the lights in the hallways weren’t some irritating fluorescent. They used lights that let off a golden hue, and when he came back late in the evening, it kept the post-beer dozing mindset intact.
Without much thought, he walked straight down the hall, eyes glazed over with exhaustion while his fingers fumbled in his pocket searching for the keys. And for the first time ever, Craig heard a noise at the end of the hall as he brought his keys out. It was a noise he really hadn’t been expecting to hear at all — he’d been living in the complex for about two years now, so he knew it would be inevitable to finally hear some kind of life down there — but it was the specific noise that really surprised him. And the sight of the source was cause enough to drop his keys.
“NGH! — GAH! God no!”
There it was, the raspy high-pitched wails that resounded throughout his office earlier. During mail time.
A little while ago it was mentioned that Craig’s neighbors were peaceful, and pretty much everyone was. Except the person who lived in the unit down the hall. They never particularly made any disturbances, besides sometimes a weirdly strong smell emanating from the end of the hall.
And that person just happened to be the new mail guy, Tweek.
Immediately, Tweek began to freak out noticing Craig, his front door agape and a disposable cup of coffee spilt all over his entrance way.
“GAH! NGH! Wh-What are you doing here?! Did you follow me?! I swear I don’t have anything fucking valuable, oh fucking jeez man! Please! Don’t!” Tweek shouted and screamed, one hand gripping the front of his shirt and the other digging into his hair. “I didn’t mean anything by forgetting your mail! I seriously fucking didn’t! — GAH! — It-It was just my first day, please fucking don’t hurt me! NGH!”
His shrieks became louder and louder and, for the first time in a long time, Craig’s eyes went wide in surprise at the mail employee’s volume. Also the speed with which he was shouting, holy fuck. Tweek was at the end of the hallway and everything was echoing as Craig approached him with his hands up like Tweek was a wild animal. Craig really did not want to attract any attention, but with the way Tweek was screaming like a madman, someone was bound to swing their front door open any second.
So, he did what he thought to do in the moment, which — he never thought he was good at thinking on his feet anyway — caused his body to move forward and grab Tweek, pushing them into Tweek’s open apartment door. While pushing himself into Tweek, he quickly turned back for an instant to close the door behind them as they crashed into the entryway wall of Tweek’s home.
Craig extended his arm out to hit the wall, his forearm and closed fist becoming flush with the wall as he tried to not crash into Tweek. Tweek, on the other hand, collided with his home’s exterior, his ass landing straight on the ground and his back against the wall. At the end of the collision, Craig found himself face-to-face with Tweek, looking down at him as he pressed his arms into the wall so as to not fall on top of the blonde. He could feel their breaths hitting the other’s faces.
What the fuck?
Craig’s thoughts ran at a million miles a minute as the whole scene played out, and this was the finishing act after he pushed him through the door. If he had the time, he would have cursed himself internally; how else did he expect this to turn out? The close exchange was short-lived, however, as Tweek could not help himself from pushing Craig away from him and putting as much space between them as he humanly could in the span of a few seconds.
Tweek shot himself across his apartment to what appeared to be the other side of his living room, leaving Craig on the ground by the front door.
“GAH! — What the fuck are you doing?! I just said I don’t have anything! I said I was sorry, Jesus Christ, are you really going to murder me over a piece of mail?! NGH! Please, don’t hurt me!” Tweek screamed, his eyes twitching as both of his hands tightly clutched his shirt.
Craig felt the back of his neck burning with embarrassment, as he watched Tweek turn himself inside and out in agitation. What was he doing? This was entirely unlike him. Slowly, he took a deep breath and raised his hands up to show he meant no harm.
“Listen, dude, I’m sorry,” he steadily apologized, it was like he was disarming a bomb. “You just surprised me, I didn’t know you lived here too, it’s just a freak coincidence, that’s all.”
Tweek’s heavy breathing and shaking seemed to calm down, but his eyes did not leave Craig once. Craig, still sitting on the ground, slowly stood up to continue speaking.
“Honest, honest truth, I live in unit 12, I can show you myself opening the door with my keys,” he resumed.
Tweek continued to eye him with less suspicion, and Craig himself began to take notice of his surroundings. His nose, too. The strong, robust stench he would smell occasionally at the end of the hall was… coffee. And by the looks of Tweek’s apartment, a lot of coffee. There were two coffee makers in the kitchen, and one in the living room. There were small trash cans in various places with filters of used coffee grinds filling them. He hadn’t been able to catch a good look at the kitchen sink, but he imagined there must’ve been tons of mugs in it.
“NGH! — You’re not gonna hurt me?” Tweek finally replied, hugging himself in disbelief.
“No, I just didn’t want you to freak out and cause a scene out there.”
“Well Jesus man, what did you expect? — GAH! — I see some guy from work in my hallway, and all I can think is that he followed me home and he’s pissed the fuck off because I didn’t give him all his mail and now he’s here to kill me or rape me or kidnap me or—”
“Okay, okay, fuck, I get it,” Craig interrupted him. “But I’m not going to do any of that to you, trust me, I’m not interested. I personally would like to forget this even happened, you get what I mean?”
Tweek nodded his head rapidly, tugging at the end of his shirt again. Craig then reached for his computer bag, which he had tossed to the side during the chaos, and started to turn around. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he thought for a moment if he should say anything else. He decided against it.
Soon enough, he’d left Tweek alone in his apartment, avoiding the puddle of coffee at his front door. As Craig walked to his apartment, he unlocked the door and stepped in. With the door closed behind him, he stood there. The walk from Tweek’s apartment to his was seconds. They lived so close and he had no clue.
It felt extremely surreal and bizarre to him, everything that had just happened and the mere off-chance that they lived in the same building, and now they worked at the same building, too. Across his apartment, he could hear Stripe rustling in the bedding. A whispering, swishing rustling in the cage.
And strangely, he felt a rustling inside his chest.
After the weird as fuck coincidence that had happened in their apartment complex, Craig found himself walking to and from work around the same time as Tweek. Since that night had happened, Craig spent the weekend shut in his home and did not leave until Monday when he had to go for work. He had decided to keep to his usual routine, and if he happened to run into the blonde-haired nutjob, it just happened to be so. Craig planned to do what he had done his whole life: stay in his own lane.
So when Monday hopped around, he left his home at the usual time, the usual way. And oddly enough, on his way to work, he spotted the mail employee only a couple feet in front of him en route. But he continued to work the same, too. When mail time arrived — when Tweek arrived — he received all his mail normally, and Tweek also seemed to have calmed down. Or, at least Craig assumed so, since his behavior was nowhere nearly as crazy as last Friday when he delivered for the first time.
In Craig’s mind, Tweek must’ve become more accustomed to the role, but he still freaked out and twitched from time to time. He assumed it must have been a natural body antic at this point. How fucking exhausting is that? After all, both times he met him last Friday, Tweek jolted and shrieked the same way, and continued to do so the following Monday (but to a lesser extent, Craig guessed).
By Wednesday, Tweek had begun to take notice of Craig on their morning and nightly courses to work and home. At one point, while delivering the mail, Tweek even asked if he should leave for work later or earlier, so as not to disturb Craig.
Craig answered bluntly, “I don’t care.”
Because, in truth, he didn’t. Tweek wasn’t doing anything to bother him, he left him alone, and didn’t try to walk with him. Sometimes they left at the same time, and that felt God-fucking-awkward when they locked their front doors simultaneously and had to ride down the elevator together, but again, Tweek didn’t say anything to him. And Craig liked that.
It wasn’t often when Craig could tolerate the awkward silence of another person; if it was a friend or family member, he had no problem hanging around them and even talking to them to fill the void, but painstakingly enduring the presence of another individual he could care less for or even disliked was another part of life he desperately dreaded. However, that somehow didn’t happen with Tweek. Sure, the kid was weird as hell and had a lot of nervous tics, but there was something about him that Craig just didn’t mind.
The more Craig observed him on his way to work every morning, the more he noticed how he wore almost the same kind of collared shirt (white or green with short sleeves) tucked into khaki pants. And almost everyday, he had a part of his shirt untucked on the side unknowingly. Tweek also drank coffee like he needed air, which Craig thought whatever, shrugging his shoulders, everyone has their vices.
And honestly, coffee was barely a vice at all. At least it wasn’t smoking, or alcohol, or some narcotic drug. Tweek just drank inordinate amounts of coffee to function, who was Craig to judge that? When Friday came around, it had been exactly a week since… whatever the fuck that even was happened. It was also going to be the first time since then that one of them would deviate from the usual unspoken routine. Tweek noticed when he walked home that he saw Craig nowhere, and it had begun to set a little emergency off in his mind unbeknownst to Craig, who absentmindedly set off for weekly drinks with Tolkien and Clyde.
The same-old same-old transpired at the bar, shooting the shit with his friends, having a couple beers, Clyde making a fool of himself, the typical bar food, and heading home around 8 this time and no later. Craig felt pretty good about himself this Friday around, like his routine finally reestablished itself after last week’s misstep. Sure, this odd guy named Tweek kind of finagled himself into the background for the time being, but he ultimately didn’t disrupt Craig’s internal life.
Or so he thought.
As Craig walked into his apartment building and rode the elevator up to his floor, he thought nothing while stalking to his front door as his hands rested in his pants pockets. His hand rattled the keys in his pocket as he approached the door, but his nose was hit with that strong odor once again from the end of the hall.
His head turned to look at Tweek’s door, which he saw cracked open again, but this time with Tweek’s head partially popping out. Craig stared for a moment, ultimately unsure as to why Tweek would be watching him in such a fucking creepy way from his own apartment. He continued to think for another moment, his keys in his hand, wondering if he should say something.
“You — GAH! — didn’t go home at the usual time,” Tweek timidly called from his door.
Craig wanted to sigh but he decided against it, as he felt himself bubbling up with conflicting emotions he didn’t understand at the minute. Tweek had kept to himself this whole week and now he just had to go and ruin it. Also, why the fuck should Tweek care or worry when he goes home? Didn’t the guy stress over enough shit?
But at the same time, it made Craig feel good. The idea — that someone had been waiting for him to come home and noticed something about him — unexpectedly did something to him. He felt strange things happening to his stomach and chest. Just what was it about this Tweek guy that made him feel… drawn to him?
In the absence of his response, Tweek felt pressured to add onto his words from earlier. “NGH! Fuck, I’m sorry man, I’ll leave you alone now!”
Just as Tweek began to close his door, Craig raised his hand to flash a stop sign while his keys dangled off his pinky. “I went for drinks with my friends, I do it every Friday,” Craig said, slight reassurance in his voice.
Tweek opened his door back up again, wider this time and slightly stepping out. Craig was the king of subtlety, but for some reason Tweek seemed to pick up on his nuances quickly — he realized right then and there that Craig wasn’t a dickhead or someone who’d harm him. If Tweek was to be completely honest, he figured that out earlier in the week when Craig didn’t begin to avoid him on their walks to and from work.
His own emotions carrying him away and Craig’s sincerity giving him a momentary high, Tweek did something he never expected himself to do.
“Do you want to — GAH! — come in for a cup of coffee?” The blonde offered, his head tilted to the side and his shoulders elevated, almost as if he was trying to hide his face in his collarbone.
Craig slowly brought his arm back down to his side, his keys jingling along. Coffee? At 8:15 in the evening? He could smell it, Tweek must’ve just made a fresh pot. Really, who had coffee this late in the day? Craig thought a little more, he’d never done that before. He also didn’t work tomorrow. Before Craig could verbally answer Tweek, he’d already begun walking towards his ajar door which opened more as he approached.
“Sure,” he replied, his face glazed over in what appeared to be disinterest, but Tweek watched him suspecting there was something more underneath the surface. As Craig entered the apartment, he glanced around. The last time he unexpectedly had been in there, he remembered the place being a lot more messy. This time, also another unexpected visit, he noticed the living room and kitchen at first glance were more tidy.
Craig glanced Tweek’s way as he watched him shuffle through his kitchen cabinets, pulling down two mugs. Although it seemed he had cleaned up his home, there were still coffee grinds scattered about on the countertops and even the floors. Did this guy not have a broom? He observed Tweek pour the coffee and then — as carefully as Tweek could with his jittering — place the mug in front of Craig. His eyes lingered on Tweek’s slender fingers unwrapping from the handle.
He caught himself. What the fuck was he just doing? Staring at some guy’s fingers? Abruptly, he picked up the mug and brought it to his mouth, taking a sip. Craig clenched his jaw to hold back a grimace, the coffee traveling through his teeth and down his throat. He wasn’t… a coffee drinker. But he didn’t want to show that to Tweek, he thought he’d look fucking stupid accepting to drink something he didn’t even like.
I am fucking dumb, what am I even doing here?
He really didn’t know. Is this how someone made a friend as an adult? He’d only ever associated himself with Tolkien and Clyde since his younger days, and dreaded meeting anyone new. Typically, when he was back home, if he mixed with people he didn’t usually, it spelled trouble.
But.
But. The word kept flashing in his mind, telling him to keep allowing this guy to hang around him. For some really unexplainable reason, Tweek was going to be the exception. As the two young men stood in Tweek’s apartment, the blonde began to pour himself another cup of coffee while Craig hadn’t even drunk a quarter of his own. Even though they weren’t having any semblance of a conversation, Craig didn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, it led him to break the silence himself, something he, again, didn’t usually do.
“So why the hell did you decide to be a mail sorter for the building?” He inquired, setting the mug down, assuming he’d drunk enough to not offend the host.
“NGH! I didn’t have a choice! My parents set me up with the job… They told me I couldn’t just keep to myself all day — GAH! — but I didn’t want to work for them, that’d be way too stressful,” he answered in one breath, with his typical spasms in between.
“What do your parents do?”
Tweek paused for a second, then took a large swig of coffee. “You know Tweek Bros.?”
And, as if Craig had been electrocuted, the realization struck him. His parents owned the Tweek Bros. coffee chain? It made the guy’s unfortunate name make so much more sense now. It was a fucking family name. And it made his addiction to caffeine all the more justifiable. It was his family's bread and butter. Little by little, Tweek began to make sense to Craig, and he suddenly didn’t seem so crazy to him. He was still crazy, absolutely, but less so.
“Yeah, I do… Wouldn’t the money be killer though? If you worked for your parents?” Craig asked.
“Jesus man, of course it was, but my parents wanted me to be like something called a regional manager and that just seemed like too much pressure! NGH! Mail scared me at first because like, what if someone sent a bomb! Or anthrax, you know, like in that one episode of NCIS, people almost died—”
“NCIS isn’t real, dude,” Craig interrupted him.
“GAH! I know, I know! That’s why I’m still doing the job! But you know… it could still happen.”
In the moment, Craig spied a small smile on Tweek’s face, it seemed like he was genuinely enjoying the conversation. And Craig himself, upon hearing Tweek’s last words, let out a small laugh at his absurdity. Tweek brought his mug to his mouth, dropping his shoulders and relaxing a little more.
“You really don’t mind that I, like, walk to work and home around the same time as you?” Tweek shyly asked, pouring himself a third cup.
There was yet another golden question. Craig put his hands in his pockets, swaying himself to the side and leaning on the counter. He wanted to put some thought into his reply, because whatever he was about to say would most likely change his morning and evening routine. Maybe it was because it was getting late, but he decided to just be honest.
“No, I really don’t mind, you could walk with me, too, if you wanted since we’re neighbors and all,” he responded.
And in his honesty, he surprised both himself and Tweek. Tweek kind of just stood there, a little dumbfounded and confused, but apparently relieved. Craig glanced at his watch, 9:37. Holy shit. He spent over an hour hanging out with the mail guy. He really lost track of time.
“I’m going to head out now,” he continued, giving the host a small nod. As he stepped in front of the door and opened it, he had one last thing to say as he walked out. “The NCIS is real, by the way, just none of the stuff you see on TV.”
He closed the door behind him.
That following Monday, on the dot, both of them came out of their apartments to walk to work. Craig didn’t mind this time as they rode down the elevator, holding his laptop bag in his hand. Tweek walked beside him, occasionally sipping on his thermos and even sometimes opening the lid just to smell the coffee. Their trip was silent, they didn’t talk, they didn’t need to since it was only a few minutes to work.
When they entered the building together, Tweek headed for the mailroom located on the first floor and Craig headed for the elevator. They didn’t say ‘bye’ or ‘see you later,’ they didn’t have to. And when the work day ended, they redid it all just on the way home.
By Thursday, they had become accustomed to each other and even began making small talk. Craig found out Tweek bakes sometimes and Tweek found out that Craig is pretty good at sports. Just the random shit.
Around lunchtime that day, Wendy came around in a rare instance.
“Craig!” She called, popping her head over the cubicle wall. “I know you hate being bothered—”
So, she knew all this time? Bitch.
“But can I ask you to do a favor for me?” Wendy continued, chipper and smiling. “Could you bring these down to the mailroom for me to get shipped? They’re not just my reviews, I also printed off yours for you to save time!”
She passed over two yellow packets for Craig to grab, which he did by reflex. “Since when were we mailing these? Why not email?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Heidi said something about how some clients want physical paper trails and building rapport or whatever—”
As she kept on talking, her words immediately began to blur together in his ears. It was like listening to a fan drone on, and on, and on. After a certain point, her voice became white noise. He then turned his head to look down at the parcels in his lap. She said the mailroom? He had never actually been down there, and now that he kind of personally knew who worked down there, he thought it’d be pretty interesting to go check it out.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll bring it down in a bit,” he interjected into Wendy’s babbling, his unprompted acquiescence surprising her and shutting her up.
“Oh, okay, thanks Craig,” she said, turning around and sitting back down to work.
After a few minutes, he heard her keyboard clicking again. He, too, set his hands down on his keyboard to work, but the idea of going down to the mailroom just kept tugging at the back of his head. A second later, he found himself standing up from his office chair and grabbing the envelopes. He briskly made his way to the elevator, almost impatiently waiting for it to open. And when it opened, he pressed the ground floor and even pushed onto the ‘close door’ button with some aggression.
As the elevator descended, he barely noticed his foot tapping in anticipation. When the doors finally let him out on the main floor, he continued his little field trip to the mailroom. He had a rough idea of which way to go from watching Tweek walk away sometimes, so he went that way. After going down one or two slim hallways towards the back of the building, he found it. Before opening the door that had the word ‘MAIL’ on the room label to the side, he wasn’t sure if he should have knocked first or what.
Off of what he roughly knew about Tweek, abruptly opening the door without notice would freak him out… but also, knocking the door would cause him to become anxious about who might be on the other side of the door. Without deciding to weigh in on the options, Craig went for it and opened the door.
When the door swung across the hinge, Craig’s face was immediately hit with the smell of coffee and his ears were punctured with the noise of Tweek’s “GAH!” as he entered the room. However, when Tweek realized it was Craig, he calmed down.
“Jesus man, you fucking scared me!” Tweek rebuked him, reaching for his thermos. “What are you doing down here?”
Craig tilted his head to the side, lazily lifting the parcels in his arm up to his side. “Someone from my team told me to bring these down.”
“NGH! I didn’t realize you were so low on the totem pole, sheesh,” he said, taking the envelopes from Craig’s now outstretched hand.
The young auditor rolled his eyes and stepped closer to Tweek as he began to work in the room. “She just asked me to do it and I said yes, we don’t really have a hierarchy or whatever in the damn office.”
As Tweek weighed the envelopes, he then went to the Pitney Bowes to print off his postage after selecting Craig’s office to bill in the menu. Within a few minutes, their parcels were posted and put in the ‘to be sent’ bin. The two of them didn’t talk much, again, as Tweek actually seemed to diligently work. Craig only watched, as Tweek sorted mail and posted mail. He noticed in the corner there was a coffee maker, with no mail or paper within a couple feet of it. He did wonder how Tweek managed to get through the day with only his one thermos, but now it made sense — he made coffee throughout the day.
And then, something strange happened.
As Tweek tossed an envelope into a pile, the flap came up. “Fuck — GAH! — man, this has been happening way too often lately,” Tweek snapped, as he reached to pick it back up. He brought the open flap to his mouth, licking the edge slowly to reseal it.
Craig stood there, air catching in his throat. His eyes had been fixated on Tweek’s mouth and when he watched him lick it, he suddenly felt pressure in his pants. And then a small flutter in his chest. And then a quick blink of his eyes to snap himself back to reality, because what the fuck did watching Tweek just do to him?
“What’s been happening?” Craig cleared his throat, trying to get his mind off whatever his body was responding to.
“NGH! Some people send mail and I guess whatever shitty machine they use isn’t sealing their envelopes properly, so I just lick them to seal them real quick before delivering them, because you know, if I delivered them open then I could get accused of opening someone else’s mail and then lose my job or even get arrested—“
“Okay, I got it dude,” he interrupted Tweek’s paranoia ramble of the day. “I did what I needed to do here, so I’m going to head back up to work.”
“Yeah — GAH! — see you later,” Tweek answered, turning around and facing the mail again.
Just then, another strange thought popped into his mind. Tweek knew about Craig going to have drinks with his friends on Fridays now, so he most likely wouldn’t freak out again if Craig didn’t go home with him… but the idea of Tweek walking home alone made a pit in Craig’s stomach for some reason. And that was how Craig found himself saying things he felt were out of character again.
“Listen, before I go,” he started, wiping his nose quickly with his index finger and sniffling. “Do you wanna come out for drinks with me and my friends tomorrow night? I know it’s late notice, so it’s cool if you don’t want to.”
“Drinks?! Oh, I don’t know Craig, I don’t really drink alcohol — NGH!” Tweek said, tugging on his shirt in anxiety. “Also, what if your friends don’t like me? I’m not — GAH! — exactly everyone’s flavor, even I know that.”
Craig frowned, upon hearing Tweek’s words. He didn’t really know what he expected to hear, but hearing that Tweek wasn’t ignorant of just how weird he was sort of kicked him in the gut. He already had some kind of idea that Tweek probably didn’t get on well with others and that he was probably the subject of bullying, but hearing the confirmation sucked more than he had imagined it would.
“It’ll be cool, they’re a bunch of chill guys, I promise,” he reassured him. “And even if you guys don’t mesh, I don’t stay long anyways.”
Tweek nodded in concession, deciding to go along with what he was saying. Craig turned his back to him again to head out, not adding anything else to his comment and Tweek didn’t seem to fight him anymore. With that, the rest of their work day concluded without consequence.
Their walk home was quiet like normal and they both entered their apartments like two roommates coming home and closing their bedroom doors to each other. The next day they would do it all again, except the walk home would be at a later time, from a different place. Fast forward to Friday evening, Craig re-tied his shoelaces and stood up from his desk, his computer case hanging from his hand like a Christmas ornament.
As he exited the elevator, he found Tweek already waiting in the main lobby for him. He noticed it this morning, Tweek looked a little different than normal. Instead of his usual getup, he added a crooked, sloppy tie to his outfit. Craig figured that Tweek wouldn’t have been able to tie it properly with his shaky hands, so he left it without commenting on it.
The two set out for his usual bar, Tweek evidently nervous. Craig personally couldn’t understand why he seemed so turned out over the prospect of meeting his friends, in his mind it was just expanding his friend group. …Is that what it was? He was adding a friend to his current friend group? The more he thought about it, Tweek felt like more than a friend. Maybe it was the weird occurrence where he happened to be his neighbor and someone who worked in his office building, that had to be it.
When the two of them entered the bar, Craig automatically looked to the right like routine to see Clyde and Tolkien at a high table. Tolkien’s immediate reaction to seeing a new face was positive, but Clyde’s looked skeptical. As they approached, Craig introduced Tweek to the guys.
“Hey guys, this is Tweek. He’s that mail guy I told you about who started working in my building,” he stated, his eyes giving Clyde a certain glare to not say too much.
“Oh—” Tolkien started, realizing Tweek was that freakazoid mail employee from before. “Yeah? Nice to meet you, man.”
Tolkien, as per usual, was the gentleman and extended his hand out for a shake. Tweek took a second to react, staring at the hand like he was inspecting it for something dangerous. Craig nonchalantly bumped his side, prompting him to jump and take Tolkien’s hand to shake back. Next he turned to Clyde, who seemed less enthused, but nevertheless still returned the handshake.
“Nice to meet you all, NGH!” Tweek grunted, tugging on his shirt. He then looked to the right and left, before speaking again. “I’m gonna take a quick leak, I’ll be back.”
And with that, Tweek anxiously walked away to the men’s restroom. When he was finally out of view, Clyde turned to Craig.
“The fuck, man? I won’t be scoring chicks with his freak ass around,” Clyde badgered his friend, setting his beer bottle down with attitude.
“You wouldn’t be scoring chicks regardless,” Craig responded without missing a beat. “I highly doubt Tweek will make a difference.”
“He doesn’t seem too bad so far,” Tolkien chimed in, taking a sip of his beer. “Unlike you to bring someone and not tell us, though.”
“Sorry, it was kind of a last minute thing I asked him about, and then I just forgot to send a text. I figured you wouldn’t care all that much,” Craig said, shrugging one shoulder.
“He better be some fun then—” Clyde began, but then Tweek had finally come back and stepped up to the high table. “Do you drink strong shit?” He directly asked the blonde.
“Oh — GAH! — No, not really, but I could try,” Tweek answered him, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.
Clyde smiled as he headed to the bar. After a little chatting between Craig and Tolkien, with Tweek awkwardly standing to the side, Clyde returned with a round of shots. Craig shot Clyde a sharp glare, who instead swiftly placed a full shot glass in front of Tweek and everyone else.
“I don’t do shots, and you know that Clyde,” Craig growled at him.
And that was the truth. Strong liquor was not really Craig’s friend, which he unfortunately found out one time during undergrad. Some fatass by the name of Cartman pressured him and his roommate at the time to keep taking shots at a party. To this day, Craig could barely remember that night, and not remembering things made him uneasy, so he typically forwent liquor whenever it came into the picture.
“It’s just one, my guy, quit stressing it,” the brunette reassured his friend. The four young men then cheered each other’s glasses and swung back the shots.
And it wasn’t just one. It ended up being several. Because for some reason, although Tweek claimed to Craig he didn’t drink alcohol, no matter how many shots he had, he didn’t seem to get drunk. And Clyde just found it to be the damnedest, funniest thing, and kept ordering more. By the sixth shot, Tweek finally seemed to have some tint to his face and a little bit of a sway.
Craig, on the other hand, was entirely shitfaced. By the fourth shot, Craig was down for the count. As Clyde kept egging Tweek on, Tolkien was off to the side, positioning and stabilizing Craig. At a certain point, Tweek realized he had run out of coffee in his thermos which was what he’d been chasing his shots with. He looked to Clyde after his seventh shot.
“I’m gonna head back home now, NGH!” He slightly hiccuped across the high table. He turned his head to look at Craig, who seemed like he was about to pass out.
Tolkien caught his stare. “Oh don’t worry about him, Clyde and I can get him home.”
“GAH! I can bring him home, we’re going the same way,” Tweek replied, burping and picking up his thermos. At his words, Clyde and Tolkien looked at each other, confused. Tweek, who was only slightly buzzed, caught onto their skepticism. “We live — NGH! — in the same building.”
The two friends looked at each other again, seemingly understanding what the other was thinking. They both shrugged their shoulders and Tolkien handed half-conscious Craig over to Tweek.
“We’ll close out Craig’s tab, he only had a beer or two and the shots were on Clyde,” Tolkien reassured Tweek, fastening Craig's laptop bag messenger style onto the auditor's body. “You good to help him home? He is kind of heavy.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he groaned out, pulling Craig’s arm over his shoulders to hold onto him.
Clyde and Tolkien watched as small and skinny Tweek trudged out of the bar with Craig leaning on him. When the pair had finally left the scene, Tolkien kept his eyes on the exit as he stretched his hand out to Clyde.
“10 dollars that Craig’s gay for Tweek,” he said.
Clyde looked at his friend like he had three heads. “What the fuck?! Craig’s not gay, he’s totally into blonde chicks like me.”
“Then you’d have nothing to lose by shaking on it.”
And like a master player moving his last piece to call checkmate, they shook hands.
When Tweek had exited the bar with Craig, the cold autumn breeze brushed over their rosy faces. Tweek didn’t know the time, but by how dark the night sky had become, he assumed they’d entered the later hours of the evening. Craig swayed in and out on the sidewalk with Tweek’s help to keep him up.
With each step they came closer to their apartment building, the young auditor became a little more sober from the cold air. Not by much, but a little. He slurred to Tweek, telling him to drop him off at his place first, which Tweek thought aloud to himself, “Where else would I put you, dumbass?”
Tweek began to work up a sweat, having to partially support Craig’s weight. When they finally made it to the lobby and into the elevator, Tweek released a large exhale and wiped his sweaty hands one-by-one on his pants while his thermos hung from the armpit not supporting Craig. When they exited the elevator onto their floor and arrived at Craig’s apartment, Tweek gulped. Craig fumbled with his hands, trying to pull his keys from his pocket. The blonde painstakingly resolved to reach into his pocket himself to get the keys.
“NGH! GAH!” He gruffly cried under his breath, slipping his hand into the pocket and pulling his hand out. He didn’t mean to graze Craig’s thigh while his hand was in there, but he did. And Craig’s glazed eyes looked at him in a way Tweek hadn’t seen before.
As he swiftly unlocked and opened the door while Craig leaned against the hallway wall, he then led Craig into the apartment behind him. Craig’s apartment was dark, the lights were off and Tweek couldn’t spot the lightswitch — it seemed to be located somewhere differently from his own apartment. Tweek had been acting really sweet to Craig, really kind. The entire walk home he reassured Craig he would do his best get him home safely and in one piece, and there they were, standing in his entryway, limbs and all.
His head was spinning but he found it fairly easy to focus on Tweek. And so, he leaned forward, pinning Tweek against the wall. With one arm flush with the wall, just like when they met for the first time in Tweek’s apartment, he looked down at Tweek, who meekly looked up at him. It was silent as he peered down at the young man’s slim body.
Craig’s mouth released a small “pfft,” his eyes smiling at the messy tie on Tweek’s chest. With drunk thoughts moving his body for him, his free large hand reached out and tugged on the tie, his thumb pressing it down onto his index finger. Tweek remained quiet, his cheeks flushed not only from the alcohol.
The poor blonde’s heart began pounding, harder than usual. Craig seemingly closed in on him, the two of them recreating the earlier scenario from when Craig had accidentally pinned Tweek to his entryway wall, the moment that started it all. Except this time, they were in Craig’s home, the lights off. Only a soft glow emanated from the window in the living room, from streetlights, streaking luminosity across the dark ground and walls.
Tweek knew exactly how Craig felt about him, at first he’d thought maybe he was misinterpreting his actions and the sneaky second glances, but the day before in the mailroom he caught him dazed in confusion after licking the letter. He thought maybe Craig just didn’t want things to become messy between himself and a neighbor, now also a somewhat coworker, but fuck it. Tweek couldn’t help himself any longer, either. The young man figured he’d fiddled with his thumbs long enough, and reached forward with both hands to grab onto Craig’s dress shirt.
Craig himself felt his body becoming sturdier and the room spinning less and less. He knew the next morning his hangover was going to be killer, but he wanted to remember this very moment, because whether or not sober him wanted to admit it — drunk him was going to do the very thing his emotions had been trying to figure out for the past week.
He went for it.
In the next second, Craig’s mouth collided with Tweek’s parched lips, something Tweek reciprocated in full force. And in that moment, Craig felt like everything he’d been feeling up to that point finally made sense. He was into Tweek. It wasn’t anything like friends or neighbors or coworkers or whatever, he wanted to completely devour this skinny, messy, panic-stricken man until he was senseless, too.
Craig brought both of his hands up to Tweek’s face, cupping his jawline from the sides so he could kiss him even deeper. Tweek himself gripped onto Craig’s shirt tighter, just like he would to his own shirt in nervousness. Tweek’s back rested against the wall as Craig leaned over him, as they continued to make out in the darkness.
In Craig's mind, after all this time, all the nonsense at work, all the useless drinks at the bar, his walks alone to work and to home, sitting home alone on the weekends with just him and Stripe. In the rhyme of it all, trying to find the reason, he couldn't find it. And then one day, this jittery, anxious guy came to deliver his mail. Almost like a tornado came sweeping through the cubicles and all the way to his apartment building, his life wasn't going to be the same. He just knew it wasn't. And typically, Craig hated change, he hated new people, he hated it when people tried to force their way into his life. ...But this shorter, slim and shaky creature didn't do that. He timidly waited at a distance, and Craig took the lead.
Craig's large fingers returned to tugging at Tweek's tie. They then slid up to the sloppy knot, his fingertips slowly undoing the loosely fastened tie. With a quick plip, plip, plip, he popped the buttons undone on Tweek's shirt. One. By. One. Tweek had decidedly kept his eyes shut, shaking not from the coffee, but true butterflies dancing in his stomach this time. He had assumed that Craig retained some sobriety by now and reacted to his advances by pulling him closer and kissing him more intensely. As the two continued to become engrossed by the other, Tweek thought he would never leave this apartment again and drink another drop of coffee. And interestingly enough, the thought didn't bother him that much.
Because he'd much rather have Craig in his mouth instead.
The young auditor thought for another moment, sobering up a little more while drinking Tweek in. He opened his eyes slightly, to spy on the blonde’s face, gently caressing his pink cheek with his thumb. Clyde was right, blondes were hot.
Only blondes named Tweek.