Archive of Our Own

Craig knew that he was a stubborn, hardheaded, routine-following individual. The kindest way he’d heard it described was during a parent/teacher conference early in his schooling. He was only in the first or second grade when his teacher told his parents, ‘Craig is a very… particular child.’ Which just seemed to be teacher-speak for ‘Craig’s kinda an asshole.’

Of course, that didn’t stop once school let out. Craig had always been a boy of routine:

Wake up, eat bland cereal if it was a school day, shitty frozen waffles or pop tarts (but only dessert-flavoured ones - not fruity ones) if it was a weekend.

On school days: go to school, come home, watch Red Racer, and see what the other kids in the neighbourhood were doing. Maybe tag along, maybe ditch them - it depended on who was ring-leading and if Craig cared. Come home, watch the laundry machine spin for a little while and get lost in his head if he decided not to play with anybody, eat a very quiet dinner, feed Stripe, see if Star Trek was on, do a small clean of Stripe’s cage (or a big clean if it was a Sunday), and finally go to bed.

Even the addition of Tweek didn’t stop Craig from following a routine, not really. Now, he just built someone else into it. Craig found himself oddly happy to do so and even allowed for deviations from his rituals if it was for the other boy. He was Craig’s favourite, after all, and Craig’s favourites got privileges.

But even favourites didn’t get to mess with one part of Craig’s day: bedtime.

Bedtime was sacred to one Craig Tucker. It was either the way to ensure he would have quality rest and take on the next day as chipper as a Tucker could, or it spelt disaster if any part of his routine was disrupted.

Those were generally the days he would spend extra long in detention, and even miss Red Racer, which ironically enough, just generated another day of misbehaving.

The point was, that Craig needed everything to be just right for his bedtime routine:

He would brush his hair and teeth (before replacing his hat on his head to keep his ears warm throughout the night), and slip into his pyjamas. Mamá insisted that he wore different ones every day, but that was okay because the ones she bought him were all in the same style - long-sleeved and long pants, so Craig never had to worry about them feeling different.

He’d return to his room and click on his kickass Gundam lamp. He’d remove anything from his feet and put his laundry in the hamper, do a quick floor tidy of his room, say goodnight to Stripe, and turn off the big light.

From there, Craig would wriggle under the covers and (re)read whatever edition of Red Racer: The Comics or the obscure Red Racer-based short novels called his name that night. When his eyelids would begin to droop, he’d set his reading material aside, and click off his lamp, and that’s when the most essential part of the night would begin.

Craig had a very particular sleeping arrangement. The singular pillow on his bed went right under his head. He’d fold it on itself so that his nose wouldn’t clog in his sleep and firmly press his right ear into it. He’d pull his heavy blanket up over his shoulder, but never far enough that it would touch his chin.

Craig would bring his hands up to his chest and curl himself up into the fetal position. However, that still wasn’t quite enough. He could feel the slight breeze of his breath on his hands. That was too distracting to fall asleep with and sometimes felt like needles poking his hands. So Craig, in all his wisdom, came up with a brilliant solution.

The space monkey plush he had received as a child (who he attempted to name Stripe, which was quickly vetoed by Mamá, who thought one Stripe in the house was more than enough. Then, he attempted to christen him Red (after Red Racer), which was shot down by Dad, who reminded Craig that he also had a cousin Red, which didn’t sound like a valid reason to Craig, but whatever… The name Albert eventually stuck once Craig had reliable access to the internet and enough curiosity about the toy to do some real research about sending real-life monkeys into space) would be tucked firmly under his chin. That way, he was able to retain all of his body heat, and all the cold air coming out of his nose would be absorbed into Albert’s fur.

That’s how it had always worked.

Until one day.

“You wanna sleep over, man?” Tweek had asked him after school had let out and everybody else in their class had rushed out the door.

“No. I can’t.” Craig intoned flatly. This had been the fourth or fifth time that Tweek had asked Craig to spend the night at his house and he had refused just as many times.

Craig watched impassively as his boyfriend glared at him, his lower eyelid twitching a few times - damn. Tweek really didn’t like that answer. He could feel his own lips subconsciously twist downward at the impending argument.

“Oh yeah? Hah - that’s funny!”

“What’s funny?” Craig raised one of his brows.

“Oh, just that your mom said that you were free tonight and already talked to my mom about you sleeping over!”

Craig felt his annoyance spiking. Seriously? He could feel his mouth falling open slightly in disbelief.

“Tweek, honey, you went behind my back to ask my mom if I could sleep over?”

“Yes!” Came the emphatic cry as Tweek swept his arms out over dramatically and then dropped them back down to his sides. “And now I know that you’ve just been avoiding me all the times I asked you to sleep over! Because you - ack - hate me or something!”

Craig felt his irritation grow.

“Tweek, I don’t do sleepovers. It’s not just you. Ask the guys.”

“No!” Craig glanced down to see Tweek curling and uncurling his hands into fists. Great. Just fucking fabulous for Craig. “I’m - I’m like, your boyfriend dude! You should want to spend time with me!”

“I do want to spend time w—“

“Not enough to sleep over!”

“Honey-“

“No, man! What about when we move in together, huh? You gonna sleep in a different room then, too?!”

Even though Craig’s annoyance, the insinuation that Tweek wanted to stay with him long enough to necessitate talking about moving in with him, even if it was just to strengthen his point in an argument made him feel fuzzy inside. He could even feel some of the tension leave his shoulders, to his slight chagrin.

“I don’t know, dude.” He admitted after a short pause. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure. How would a whole other person impact how he slept? How would Tweek in particular mesh with his routine?

Routine aside, it was embarrassing beyond belief to have to admit to sleeping with a stuffed animal. Especially one as nerdy as a NASA-branded one. He was in the fourth grade, for Christ’s sake. That was only something expected of someone totally lame like Butters or Kevin Stoley.

However, his honesty had the opposite intended effect.

“Hah!?” Craig’s boyfriend shouted, reaching forward and grabbing Craig by the collar of his jacket and tugging him toward himself. He was thrown slightly off balance and stumbled a half-step forward. “You don’t know?!”

“No!”

“Why?! Oh, Jesus” he unlisted one hand from Craig’s jacket to gnaw at the loose skin around his cuticles. Craig frowned slightly at the sight, but couldn’t exactly say anything on the matter as he did way grosser on a daily basis. Around his hand, he continued. “Is it — is it a me thing? You just can’t fathom sleeping around me all night?”

“Tweek.”

“Because that’s gay, dude!”

“Tweek…”

“Wait - no.” Tweek’s hand moved from his mouth to fiddle with his hair. “It’s gay that you don’t wanna be gay! Yeah — hah - and your mom already said you gotta! She already gave my mom your duffle bag so there!”

“Wh-uh?”

“Yeah, dude. Your mom said she’s packed your shit and my mom would drop your shit off before she had to work and we’d — ngh - sleep over at my place!”

“… Why can’t you just come over to my house?”

“Because we’re going to my place! I have way cooler toys!”

Craig could feel discomfort growing in his chest. “… I..”

His routine was going to be completely disrupted. Craig wasn’t ready. No, not at all. If he was going to fall asleep, he needed the conditions to be just right, and he didn’t think that Mamá would remember everything well enough to prepare him for a sleepover - and he was even less sure that the Tweak family’s air mattress or old carpet would be conducive to creating Craig’s required environment.

He grimaced and leaned away from Tweek. He had to think this through logically… He’d make a list of why it was okay.

1. It wasn’t a school night. That meant that even if Craig slept shittily, he’d be able to make up for it later the next day.

2. Mamá had never cared about embarrassing him before, so she probably packed Albert. That was okay.

3. Even if Tweek had thin, shitty pillows, he probably had enough stuffed animals to lay flat under the pillow and get the elevation Craig needed.

4. … Mamá would probably feed Stripe, or make Tricia feed him. His little buddy would be alright without him for one night.

5. Even if Tweek was observant, Craig could be sneaky about cuddling Albert.

Craig sighed, sounding a lot more defeated than he really felt which made him feel just the slightest bit bad about making this such a fuckin’ scene.

He steeled his nerves and looked back to his boyfriend.

“Okay.”

___________

The actual sleepover was pretty sweet. Craig’s duffle was already in Tweek’s room when they arrived, so that was one less thing to worry about. Tweek did have cool toys that they played with, and Craig totally kicked his ass in Super Smash Bros even when Tweek demanded that they randomised their characters so Craig wouldn’t have an advantage.

They were also able to play their Minecraft world together, Tweek insisting that Craig took his computer while Tweek played on the iPad. Their base was looking sick as hell and Craig was confident that if they just found a few more caves to explore, Craig could build a roller coaster around their house.

The Tweaks even let Tweek and Craig order takeout - which enthused Craig but didn’t seem to get a big reaction out of Tweek for whatever reason. It was pretty fuckin’ awesome, and Craig found himself glad that he was able to spend so much time with his boyfriend.

However, Craig was beginning to wind down around 10 - Mamá usually made him get off all electronics at 9 so he would be ready to go to bed around 9:30, but it seemed like Tweek didn’t have a real bedtime, and even when his parents told him to begin to settle down for the night, they did so while presenting a steaming cup of coffee for both of them (that Tweek gladly took and Craig declined), so Craig had a pretty hard time believing that they really wanted them to get good rest.

Craig found himself blinking heavily and attempting to stifle his yawns behind closed lips so Tweek wouldn’t think he was boring him when he was just tired. He also seemed to be leaning closer to Tweek than he usually did when he was wide awake. Tweek, perceptive when he wasn’t actively freaking out, picked up on Craig’s state quickly.

“Hey, man. You tired?”

“Hmmmm.” Craig had tried to approximate a “no” or a “hmm-mm.” to refute Tweek’s statement but it came out much sleepier than intended. By the crooked upward tilt of Tweek’s mouth, Craig could tell he wasn’t buying his bullshit.

“Right.” Came the soft, scratchy voice. The tone Tweek used when he was messing with Craig. One of Craig’s favourites. The tone and the soft nature of Tweek’s entire demeanour switched rather quickly though.

“Ergh - don’t freak out or - or get mad, but..”

That sentence flipped a switch in Craig’s head. As if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him, much of his sleepiness left him and was replaced with concern and a hint of suspicion. He sat upright to talk to Tweek. “…What?”

“Nnnhggnnghhh...” Tweek made a painful-sounding sound and Craig wasn’t sure if he was trying to showcase his emotional state of being to Craig or emphasise something or what, but before he could respond, Tweek rushed his next sentence out.

“My dad wants us to share the bed.”

“… Huh?”

“My fuckin’ - my dad, dude!” Tweek moaned as he brought the heels of his palm to knead at his eyes. “I asked him to bring like - something for you to sleep on up here! I wasn’t sure what we had, but we’re like - a middle-class family, right?! We were bound to have a sleeping bag or - or a mattress or something, but my dad just like - looked at me! You know the look, man! The gay look! And he was like, ‘Tweek,’”

Craig found himself amused, despite himself, at Tweek’s dramatic caricature of his father, odd pronunciation of his name and all. He even managed to capture the somewhat manic glint that the older Tweak got when he began talking about Craig’s relationship with his son.

“‘Tweek, you know that we have certain, expectations of you, as the company’s heir and as our gay, homosexual son.’ Like, that doesn’t have to do with fuckin’ finding something to sleep on! But then,” Tweek steamrolled on, not giving the chance for Craig to reply (not that he had anything to contribute, really), “But then it got even better, man. He was like ‘So, your mother and I think it would be for the best if you two… shared the bed. Gaily. We’re supportive, you know.’ He never even answered my question!”

Craig noticed the slight twitch of Tweek’s hand, indicative that he might start to pull his hair. Quick as a flash, he grabbed tight to his boyfriend’s hand and gave it two quick squeezes, a nonverbal code they came up with for ‘it’s okay’. It allowed Tweek to rant and Craig to lend support without breaking the flow of their conversation.

“So, so I asked again! I was like ‘Dad, that’s bullshit! We should - ngh - we should let Craig sleep on something else, man! Plus there’s all my germs on the bed and I don’t know if Craig is a night shower-er so what if he gets dirt in my bed then I contract a disease and die?’ Die, Craig! I’m way too young for that! Plus, plus sharing a bed is so much pressure!” With the last word, Tweek squeezed Craig’s hand. Hard. It kinda hurt, but Craig fought hard to not let that show in his face.

Craig also decided that he wasn’t going to acknowledge Tweek’s freak out right now, because 1. he was tired and 2. Tweek probably went over it all with his dad already. With a small pit in his stomach, he tried to answer Tweek as nonchalantly as ever.

“So, we’re sharing the bed?”

Tweek stared at him for a few seconds before his head jolted to the side and he blinked his eyes hard. Twice. Then he went back to staring for a bit. That was alright with Craig, who had no trouble staring back. Tweek, of course, was the first to crack.

“Wh… Rrrghh - Fine! We can share! But - but I get to sleep closest to the window!”

That worked out just fine for Craig, who tended to get cold during the night. Despite the fact that logically, this wasn’t a big deal and Craig was just sleeping over, he felt an odd feeling in his chest. A slight feeling of… trepidation, maybe?

“… Okay.”

Tweek seemed to notice the brief pause in his response as his lips pulled to the side.

“You alright, man?”

Craig shrugged in response, turning his back to Tweek and crouching down to dig through his duffle. He figured changing the subject could get him out of the hot seat.

“Can I change in the bathroom?”

“Nghhh - yeah, man. You know where it is?”

“Mhm.”

“Ohhhh - kay. I’ll change in here.”

Something from Tweek’s earlier rant clicked into place at the slightly anxious sound Tweek had made.

“Do you want me to take a quick shower? So I don’t get germs in your bed or whatever?”

He looked over his shoulder as he asked to gauge his boyfriend’s nonverbal reaction. Surprisingly, he didn’t become tense or even have that anxious, thoughtful tilt to his eyebrows. Instead, he exhaled a laugh.

“Nah, man. I trust you. I’ll just make my dad wash the sheets tomorrow, too.” His eyes clamped shut, one after the other and he flashed Craig a slightly manic grin. “Payback for forcing us into this!”

Craig felt himself snicker. Yeah, that asshole deserved it. He then left Tweek’s room.

___________

Tweek’s bed was soft.

That was the first thing that Craig had noticed.

Tweek’s bed was also warm.

At home, Craig had his sheets and a blanket, but Tweek had a whole duvet which was warm and comfortable… but definitely not Tweek’s style. Probably something forced onto him by his parents.

Craig also noted that the duvet looked noticeably cleaner and less - worn? Loved? Than his other blankets. Craig, of course, wasn’t going to ask him and get Tweek riled up when he was already beginning to feel sleepy again, but he had a feeling that Tweek pulled out the warm, soft layer just for him. The thought made his chest feel funny and his head feel a little light.

He’d look into that feeling later, though. Right now, he had more important things to worry about. Namely, sneakily moving Albert from stuffed in the back of his sleep shirt to his arms without Tweek noticing while his coordination was suffering from being half-asleep.

Being a level 14 thief in Zaron meant that, when they played, Craig was usually given a pretty big grace period whenever he tried to do something sneaky. Other kids would pretend not to recognise him even when they did in real life ‘cause, in the game, he was just badass like that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t afforded that much luxury in real life.

Especially when…

“Arghh…” Tweek grumbled in the dark from next to Craig, flipping over for about the third time in ten minutes.

Tweek seemed to be restless at bedtime.

“Dude,” Tweek hissed quietly - quietly for Tweek, at least. “Is it just me or is it kinda cramped?”

Craig, instead of shrugging, opted to make a small hum in the back of his throat. “A little more than I thought…”

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Craig could feel the mattress shift slightly as if Tweek was really about to get up and out of bed.

“D’you want me to sleep on th’floor?”

“What?! No! That’d make me such a shitty boyfriend!”

“Exactly.”

There was a moment of stillness before Craig felt the weight beside him settle.

“… Are you trying to sleep?”

Craig exhaled through his nose - not a sigh - and let his eyes fall shut. Tweek was playing him into a corner. If he responded in the positive, he wouldn’t be able to squirm his plush into his arms as easily. If he responded in the negative, they wouldn’t be getting to sleep until midnight. “Kinda.”

“Nnnnghhhhokay. Sorry, dude.”

“Mm-mm. s’all good, Tweek.” Craig took that opportunity to swiftly reach under his shirt and behind himself to grab Albert’s arm. “S’just… Later than I’m usually up.”

Covering the sound of most of his movement with an exaggerated yawn, Craig unwrapped his arm from around himself and brought Albert to his rightful place under his chin. He then laid still for a few moments, ensuring Tweek wouldn’t call out his behaviour.

He didn’t.

Haha, success.

… A success with a caveat, though.

The way they were situated, if Craig wanted to face away from Tweek, he had to press his left ear into the pillow Tweek let him borrow (Tweek himself said he was alright using his dinosaur plush as a pillow for the night. He was sooooo nice.).

That wasn’t how Craig slept. He needed his right ear to be pressed into the pillow. If he did that, it would force him to face Tweek. There was no way in hell he was going to do that and subject himself to teasing this late at night.

He was already tired, he would just wait sleep out.

…..

He was sure sleep was coming any minute now.

…………

His curled-up position really wasn’t as comfortable when he was lying on his left side.

…………….

His eyes didn’t feel nearly as heavy as they had just a few minutes before.

………

No, he was still fully awake.

…..

Fuck, he wasn’t actually considering this, was he?

….

No, Tweek was still awake. He could tell because every few minutes he’d hear him make a noise in the back of his throat or feel him twitch on the mattress. In fact, Tweek seemed to be making an effort to tamp down on his natural movements, probably to help Craig sleep.

…

God Damn, it had probably been about fifteen minutes at this point. Craig just couldn’t fall asleep in that position.

Craig clenched his eyes shut and steeled his nerves. Getting even a little sleep might be a worthwhile trade-off for Tweek knowing he was lame now.

Craig decided to metaphorically rip the band-aid off and flipped over in one motion. Unfortunately for him, Tweek was still relatively bright-eyed and had been facing the centre of the bed.

Craig could feel his face flush as he watched his boyfriend’s eyes first hone in on his face, then flicker down to his chin where Albert was securely pressed.

Curiosity and … surprise? Amusement? Filled his gaze. Tweek’s eyes then returned to look into Craig’s, whereupon, they lost the slight sheen of, yes, amusement they previously held.

In what may be the smallest voice Craig had ever heard from Tweek, the blond boy asked “What’s his name?”, gesturing to the stuffed toy with his chin.

Craig seriously contemplated faking sleep or walking out of the room for a few seconds before submitting to his fate. This conversation was going to happen sooner or later, so it may as well be now.

“… Albert.”

“Albert?”

“He’s named after the first mammal to ever go to space.”

“… Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Craig was sincerely hoping the conversation would end there. Maybe it would be like when he talked to Dad sometimes, and the rest of the conversation would go unsaid.

Unluckily for Craig, his boyfriend valued healthy and substantial conversations.

“I didn’t know you brought him, man.”

“Yep.”

“Oh wait - your mom packed him, right?”

The tone wasn’t teasing, just genuinely curious. That almost made the embarrassment worse.

“Yes, honey.”

“But I’ve only ever seen him on your dresser before…”

“Tweek,” Craig’s voice was almost pleading. It seemed to get his point across. It was blessedly quiet for a few moments before Tweek tentatively reached a shaky, jittery hand out and traced down the bridge of his plush’s nose, bunching up the fabric of his comforter in the process.

Craig, at a loss for what to do, simply watched him. Soon enough, Tweek retracted his hand. “You’re sweet, dude.”

Craig felt the redness that had faded from his face return with a vengeance. He, however, bravely fought the urge to hide his face. Instead, he decided to finish this godawful conversation before Tweek could make any other decisions about how sweet he thought Craig was.

“It’s just - the only way I can sleep.”

His explanation was stilted and, he was sure, provided nowhere near enough information for Tweek’s curious nature, but Tweek took the answer at face value. Understanding seemed to light up his eyes and he flashed Craig a final smile before flipping himself over and facing away from Craig.

… Was he trying to spare him his dignity?

It seemed likely. For someone who slept as little as Tweek, he probably understood following certain sleep rituals better than pretty much anybody in Craig’s life.

His chest felt a little lighter as he could feel sleep finally tugging at the back of his mind.

Why had he been so worried in the first place? Sure, Tweek could be an asshole, but he was nowhere near as bad as the rest of Craig’s dickhole friends.

With a warm feeling in his chest, soft blankets pulled over his body, the mixture of coffee and Tweek’s natural scent all around him, and Albert tucked under his chin, Craig was finally able to drift off.

___________

When wakefulness came to Craig, his first conscious realisation was just how warm he felt. Usually, his bedroom at home didn’t get this warm. It was a nice change.

The second thing he noticed was that he didn’t have the blanket pulled up as high as he usually would. From what he could approximate based on the weight over his body, the blanket was down to around his mid-chest. That - that was odd. Craig wasn’t exactly a restless sleeper.

The third thing he noticed was either Albert got a lot bigger overnight, and also had a heater installed, or whatever he was hugging close to his chest wasn’t, in fact, his plush toy.

Whatever he was hugging was really warm, though. It felt nice in his arms. It also smelled nice.

Craig was sooooo well-rested and sooooo happy. He hugged whatever it was closer and buried his nose into it.

… that scent was oddly familiar. It was something he smelled often but wasn’t something at home.

The thing in his arms was also breathing.

That got Craig to open up his eyes.

Immediately, the colour yellow obscured his vision. Craig pulled his head back slightly from where it was resting in, what he then realised was the crook of Tweek’s neck.

Oh, shit.

Craig jolted back further, pulling away as far as he could before he’d have to work to extract his arm (which he just realised was tingling with pins and needles) from underneath Tweek.

Oh, that was so gay.

God damn it.

He could feel his face heating up as he sat with his thoughts.

It was also kind of nice to wake up like that.

Also, that was the best sleep Craig had gotten in a while. And it was warm… and Tweek hadn’t seemed to wake up yet, so…

Craig cautiously laid back down, scooting close to his boyfriend, adjusting the blankets around them, and carefully draping his arm over him.

Quickly, Craig found himself relaxing into the position.

Yeah… Craig could probably get used to sleepovers if this is what it entailed.

___________

Craig Tucker, a serious adult with a serious career a serious mortgage, and a serious countenance, was sat in front of his dryer with a dumb smile on his face, enjoying watching the fabric inside tumble, and the occasional clang of one of their wool dryer balls making impact with the inside of the machine.

This was the last load of laundry he had to complete for the day, which was good because his beloved husband would be home soon, and Craig wanted to optimise their cuddle time as much as he could before they both had to attend to their respective post-work adult responsibilities.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Craig heard the soft beeps of someone inputting their code into the e-lock on their home. He perked up as he heard the deep breath that turned into a soft sigh his husband always did upon entering their shared living space.

Craig braced his hands on his knees and stood up, his lower back twinging slightly in protest as he did so, so he could greet his husband properly.

“Craig?!” Came the call from the first floor of their home. Craig greeted him with a tight hug and a quick press of their lips.

“Hi, honey. How was work?”

“Nnghghn… I don’t want to talk about work right now.”

“Okay.” Craig squeezed his husband once, twice, before letting him go. “Wanna watch a movie before or after dinner?”

Tweek contemplated. “After. Wanna get shit done then veg out for the rest of the night.”

Craig half-smiled at him and broke their embrace. “Alright.”

___________

Dinners, as always in the Tucker household, were simple. Filling. Craig didn’t like many complex textures and tastes, and Tweek, after baking all day, wasn’t exactly inclined to put even more work into cooking once he was off the clock.

After dinner, they went their separate ways. Craig, to finish up the laundry. He needed to fold and hang everything before wrinkles set in, and Tweek to set up for their low-key, post-work movie night.

When Craig entered the living room, it was to the lights turned off, some action film Craig had never heard of queued up on the television (Craig trusted Tweek’s taste, it would probably have some cool fight scenes or gore makeup or something worthwhile), and his man laid against the back of the couch, head cushioned on the arm, and covered in a blanket, scrolling through some social media (Probably Twitter. Craig really needed to get him off that damn app).

Upon catching sight of Craig, Tweek turned his phone off and lifted one side of the blanket invitingly. Craig quickly took him up on his offer and cuddled in close to his husband, feeling those wiry, strong arms wrap around his midsection.

The rather embarrassing truth Craig had come to realise throughout their relationship was that, in every scenario aside from going to sleep, he preferred to be the little spoon. If anyone called him out on it, he’d blame it on his naturally cold-blooded nature and the fact that his husband was basically a fucking furnace, but it truly came down to preference.

And if there was one thing Craig knew, it was preferences. After all,

Craig Tucker knew that he was a stubborn, hardheaded, routine-following man. A structured 9 to 5 only solidified that fact to him. He maintained many routines that he enjoyed, or that he simply followed on autopilot. However, the best ones were the ones that included his beloved husband, Tweek.

He was Craig’s favourite, after all, and Craig’s favourites got privileges.

Especially during his favourite routine of the day: Bedtime.

During bedtime, unlike other couples, there was never any question as to how they’d cosy up to one another. It was as constant as the planets in rotation.

Craig would kick off anything covering his feet, which were guaranteed to be warmed up against his husband’s calves at some point in the night, regardless of the high-pitched screeching admonishments of said husband.

Craig would don his long-sleeved, long-pant pyjamas, a near antithesis to Tweek’s boxer shorts and occasional threadbare, freebie vendor shirt from some business conference or another.

Craig would apply a nasal strip so he could breathe throughout the night without waking up to a dry throat and his husband’s sleep wouldn’t be interrupted by his snoring.

Craig would lay in bed, press the right side of his face firmly against his memory foam pillows, cosy up under their shared covers, and pull his husband close to his chest, looping his chin over Tweek’s shoulder, so that the firm, warm body against his would block any of the cold air coming from his nose, and bask in the feeling of their bodies pressed up against one another. He’d tangle their hands together over Tweek’s stomach and press a kiss to his husband’s neck, murmuring a ‘good night’ that was guaranteed to be returned.

Ever since they had worked out this shared routine as children having sleepovers, through their more adventurous teen years, and now through their boring, stable adulthood…

That’s how it had always worked.

And Craig knew that it was just right.