Work Text:
“Eep!”
Tweek shreeks. He jumps ten feet into the air. The lego piece he’d been holding tumbles onto the desk, and Tweek panics at the thought of losing it. He needs it for the lego set. He can’t build the set if he’s missing a brick! God, Craig bought him that set for Christmas, he can’t lose—
Another loud bang echoes outside, and suddenly all thoughts of white two by four lego pieces are thrown out the window. He hates new years.
Not only does it involve fireworks, it also makes him think about the future and how he’s getting older and that time is always marching forwards. The inevitability of time passing stresses Tweek out beyond belief and sometimes he forgets that he’s not ten years old anymore, he’s in his last year of high school, and he still has college applications to fill out sitting in open tabs on his laptop.
If he thinks about the passage of time, he’ll have a panic attack, which isn’t anything unusual for him, but it’s unenjoyable and he’d rather avoid it. Tweek sighs, and resigns himself to not finishing his lego tonight like he’d wanted. His hands are shaking even more than he’s used to, and it’ll only get worse as the night goes on as more fireworks scare the shit out of him. Tweek can tell himself it’s fine all he wants, but that doesn’t mean his brain will believe it. His nervous system likes to rebel against him like that. It’s rude.
He bites his chewed up lip and picks up the lego piece before checking the time. His phone tells him it’s not even midnight, so there really shouldn’t even be fireworks going off yet, but South Park has never actually cared about practicality.
Whoever is lighting the fireworks probably doesn’t have a license to be doing so but Tweek can’t count on the police to stop them because the cops in this town are completely, utterly useless. Tweek curses the name of whoever is causing this disturbance and vows to learn witchcraft so he can cast a spell of bad luck on them. But, witchcraft probably wouldn’t go well for him, and he might end up cursing himself or Craig or a friend, so really black magic is off the table, and he’ll have to settle on hoping the fireworks blow the perpetrator up.
A particularly loud bang manages to sneak through his defenses. Tweek screeches, ignores what he’s pretty sure is a shout from his mother, and buries himself under all of his blankets. They do not cancel noise but they do make him feel a little safer.
He wishes Craig was with him. Craig always makes everything better. Craig would know just what to say to make the fireworks less scary.
Craig has that effect on him. He’s had that effect on Tweek since they were four feet tall and climbed the monkey bars during recess. Tweek thinks that maybe Craig is a little magical.
His phone buzzes.
Craig: I’m coming over.
Across town, Kenny holds up his lighter with a grin.
Kyle does his best to not be a loser, but he can’t help it. None of them have done the paperwork to be lighting off explosive bombs of color and Kyle’s the only one who cares about the law around here.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asks, and Stan nudges him with his elbow.
“Yeah, dude! Nobody else is gonna be lighting fireworks this early so we have to!”
“How do you know that?”
Cartman rolls his eyes. “We just do, Kyle, jeez. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
Getting into a fight with Cartman is not how Kyle wants to go into the new year, so he settles on huffing with annoyance as he turns back to Kenny. The blond is wearing his signature orange parka, but the hood is down. Kenny stopped wearing the hood in middle school when the teachers got strict about it, but Kyle still hasn’t gotten over just how gorgeous he is. He’s unsure if that’s what everyone thinks or if it’s just the weird effect he has on Kyle.
Kenny approaches the unlit firework, which is resting on a patch of wet grass they’d cleared of snow. A small crate of different kinds of fireworks sits off to the side, where Cartman holds it hostage. His excuse is that he’d bought them so he gets to pick which ones they light, but Kyle’s pretty sure Cartman just found an old box of them from when they were kids and decided to monopolize. It feeds into Kyle’s current theory that Cartman has to create pyramid schemes with everything he possibly can or else he’ll wither away into nothingness. It’s the only way the guy can stay relevant.
The small flame of the lighter sparks the firework’s fuse and Kenny quickly runs away from it so he doesn’t get blown up. His hand lands on Kyle’s shoulder as the four watch it fly into the air with a high pitched screech until it explodes into bright sparks of yellow. Basic, but fun.
“This one next!” Cartman demands, and Kenny’s hand disappears, leaving behind an unexpected coldness that makes Kyle shiver.
Kenny takes the firework but protests out of principle. “Why don’t you light it, fatass?”
“He’s too fat to run away fast enough!” Kyle answers for him, and smirks at the yelp of disagreement it earns. Kenny chuckles and it feels like a reward. He sets the new firework down, kicking the remains of the last out of the way. The wind blows a little harsher and Kyle thinks he might turn into a human popsicle.
Cartman continues muttering something about killing all the Jews, which Kyle tunes out in favor of watching Kenny light the fireworks. The moonlight makes him glow, and the warm light from his palm almost turns Kenny into something rather ethereal. Kyle internally cringes. Since when does he write fucking sonnets about his friends, jesus christ. He really needs to get a hold of the way Kenny makes his heart beat before he does something stupid.
The firework soars into the air again, and this time it explodes into a shower of orange.
Craig knew exactly how the night was going to go the moment he heard the first firework go off.
There’s no doubt in his mind that Stan’s gang is the cause of it. Most disturbances in this town are somehow connected to that group, and half the time they don’t even mean to. They’re just magnets for trouble, which is why Craig makes sure to steer away from them. If not only for his sake, but for Tweek’s sanity as well.
It’s not that fireworks are uncommon on new years. It’s just, they’re usually reserved for midnight, not — he checks his phone — an hour after sunset.
The first thought he has is those fucking assholes, and the second is fuck, Tweek needs me.
He’s not a savior or a martyr. He doesn’t have a hero complex nor does he concern himself with the wellbeing of others. Just Tweek. He’s not about to rush to someone’s side because of some loud noises for anyone. Only Tweek.
Craig sends Tweek a text and he’s immediately out the door. They had plans to be together tonight, of course, but the early fireworks are cause for an early meet up. He can feel in his bones that Tweek will have a panic attack if he’s left to fend for himself against the loud noises. It’s his Tweek-senses. As Clyde likes to point out, he’s like Spiderman, but instead of saving the world he just knows when his boyfriend needs emotional support. But Tweek basically is his world, so it’s pretty much the same thing.
The cold winter air bites at his nose and he shoves his hands into his pockets. Another firework goes off, and Craig internally flinches, and he can hear Tweek’s yelp in his mind.
He takes a few shortcuts through people’s backyards and arrives at Tweek’s house in record time. Mr. Tweak answers the door and lets him in without question, because at this point Craig and Tweek are together more often than they are not, and their parents have stopped asking. Craig gives a very half-assed greeting and does his best to not run up the stairs to Tweek’s room at the speed of light.
Craig doesn’t bother knocking. He enters the room to the soft glow of the lamp and a half-built lego set on the desk. His heart does an extra thump when he realizes it’s the set he got Tweek for Christmas. The man himself is nowhere to be seen, but Craig is a pro at finding a hidden Tweek. The fact the blanket covered lump on the bed is shivering gives Tweek away this time. He closes the door behind him and takes a few steps farther into the room.
“Tweek, honey, are you okay?” He asks, keeping his voice soft, and the lump on the bed aggressively twitches with a yelp in surprise.
Those beautiful green eyes peek out at him as Tweek’s face emerges from the blanket. He looks silly like this. Like a Tweek cocoon, and maybe when he comes out, he’ll be a Tweek butterfly. “Craig? You—”
Tweek’s shaky voice is cut off by another firework going off, and he retreats back into his blanket cave with a shriek. Craig’s nose scrunches with displeasure. One day he is going to kill Stan and all his little friends for the emotional damage they’ve given Tweek over the years.
“How long are we going to be doing this?”
Kenny turns at Kyle’s question and gives him a cheeky grin. “We’re going all night, baby!”
Kyle rolls his eyes and Kenny reminds himself that the pink on his cheeks is due to the frigid air. He’d kiss the pout off of Kyle’s face, but that would be going a little bit too far past bro territory. And Cartman would probably beat his ass for being gay in front of the weird firework scheme he has going on.
“But if we do them all night, then the ones that go off at midnight won’t be special. That’s, like, the whole point of new years fireworks.” He says, and Kenny has to agree, he makes a good point. Stan nods and turns to Cartman, awaiting explanation.
Cartman huffs in turn. “Well, duh. That’s why I’m saving the good ones for last. God, Kyle, just trust me for once.”
Nobody reminds Cartman that he never once has proven to be remotely trustworthy, but they all are thinking it. Kyle kicks some snow in Cartman’s general direction, earning the usual “Ey! Fuck off you dirty Jew!”
Stan fruitlessly tries to stop the fight, which really he should know is a lost cause by now. Kenny steps around the brawl and grabs a random firework from the abandoned crate, not paying attention to the details. He just hopes it’s not Cartman’s special fireworks because he doesn’t really feel like dying tonight. He’d rather not go into the new year dead, that just feels like asking to have a bad year.
He sets it in the same spot and pulls out his lighter. It takes a few attempts but he successfully lights the fuse and steps back to the others, who are still attempting to maim each other.
This time the firework explodes into lots of smaller stars instead of one big colorful bomb like the others. It’s green and continues popping longer than he expects, taking its sweet time to show off just how great it is. It kind of reminds Kenny of Kyle’s eyes, and he’s not too sure what to do with that information. The sound at least breaks up the ongoing fight behind him.
“Woah,” Stan breathes out, and Kenny can’t help but agree.
Sure, he’s always thought fireworks were cool, but there’s something special about being directly under it, and watching the sparks float down to land in the snow. He turns his head, and sees Kyle panting from his fight, out of breath but still standing tall while Cartman collapses on the ground. The fireworks reflect off his eyes which widen with awe, and his jaw goes slack, and Kenny thinks that maybe Kyle is more breathtaking than the colorful bomb he just set off. Kyle turns to him, and Kenny instinctively looks away, not wanting to be a creep who stares at his friend.
“Kenny!”
Cartman’s angry yell startles him out of the Kyle-induced trance. “You idiot! That was the special firework! You ruined everything!”
Kenny winces. Oops.
“What the fuck are we gonna do now, poor boy? New years is ruined!” He whines, still lying on the ground, kicking up snow like he’s a child throwing a tantrum. Which, to be fair, is his natural state.
“My bad,” He shrugs, “We could chill on the SoDoSoPa roof?”
The safety of the blanket cave does not last, because Tweek’s blankets are unfortunately not sound proof. Neither are they Craig proof.
He can feel the bed dip as his boyfriend sits off to the side, close enough to be in reach, but far enough to not be overwhelming. Sometimes Tweek doesn’t want to be touched and sometimes he wants to be swallowed whole. It’s a fun guessing game, and half the time even he doesn’t know the answer himself.
But tonight? He knows what he wants.
Tonight, Tweek wants to be wrapped up in Craig’s arms so tight that he can’t breathe. He wants to crawl into Craig’s skin and live there, because he knows he’ll be safe. If he could live in Craig’s nervous system he would be the most content man alive, and he’s sure Craig would let him if it were possible. Craig’s nice like that. He doesn’t run away when Tweek says strange things like I wish I could burrow inside your ribcage and stay there forever. He just nods and says “that’s nice, honey.”
Tweek crawls out from his hidey hole and shuffles over to Craig, who welcomes him with open arms. His hoodie smells like laundry detergent and Tweek fully shoves his face into Craig’s stomach, wrapping his arms around his torso, squeezing like his life depends on it.
Craig in return rests one hand on Tweek’s back and the other runs through blond tangled hair. Immediately, his body relaxes, like Craig is the key to calmness. And, maybe he is.
He sighs out all of the anxiety and frustration in the world, because he hates new years, he hates fireworks so bad. There’s nothing good about them! They’re just loud and sparkly and contribute to climate change because nobody bothers to pick up the mess they leave behind. The world is ending and it’s all fireworks fault and the idiots who decide to light them. He should start an anti-firework petition. Get them outlawed. Do the atmosphere a favor.
“I know, babe, I know.” Craig’s voice interrupts his train of thought as he whimpers at another loud boom. It should probably sound patronizing with his monotone voice, but Tweek can hear the sympathy and care in it, because he’s a Craig expert. Knowing all the tells of Craig Tucker is his proudest achievement in life.
His hand leaves Tweek’s hair and moves to his cheek, pulling Tweek’s face out of the folds of his hoodie. “Where are your headphones?”
“In my bag!” He yells, despite meaning to keep his voice down.
Craig peels Tweek off of him, which leaves him pouting at the loss of warmth, even though he knows Craig is coming right back. He watches his boyfriend sift around in his backpack until he pulls out the black, sticker-decorated noise cancelling headphones. In hindsight, Tweek really should have put those on when the fireworks first started. This is why he has Craig. His own personal headphone reminder.
Tweek takes them, but pulls Craig into a hug before putting them on. “Thank you. I think I’m gonna go back to my lego now.”
“Alright, honey. You need anything else?” Craig asks, because he’s the best boyfriend in the world.
With a shake of his head, Craig leaves him to his own devices, collapsing on Tweek’s bed like it’s his own. Tweek returns to his lego set with the comforting quiet, and all is right in the world.
The roof of the abandoned SoDoSoPa next to Kenny’s house is a frequent spot for their hang outs. Less in the winter, because it’s cold as balls, and heated houses are nice. Kyle’s the last to make it up the ladder, hauling himself up, taking the hand Kenny offers as he steadies himself on his feet.
Stan picks up the electric lantern they keep up there for light and turns it on. The sheets they have scattered on the concrete are damp and frozen with snow, so they don’t bother sitting on them for warmth. By now his nose is numb to the frigid wind and he might start singing his own awful rendition of Let It Go. It would be embarrassing but he’d do it. It would make Kenny laugh.
Making a fool of himself just to see Kenny smile is a level he never thought he’d stoop down to. So, he refrains from bursting into song. God, he does not need to give Eric fucking Cartman any more reasons to be an asshole to him. He distracts himself by conversing with his friends as they loiter around on top of an abandoned building that could collapse at any moment, sitting in a lopsided square around the lantern, because Kenny refuses to be more than three feet away from Kyle for some reason. It does horrible things to Kyle’s heart and he’s starting to think Kenny does it on purpose.
Time passes as it always does, and the only thing that brings Kyle out of his heated debate with Cartman over the physics of launching his fat ass into space is a loud bang.
Kyle instinctively turns to Kenny, expecting him to have lit a firework when nobody was looking, only for the boy to be empty handed looking up at the sky. He follows Kenny’s gaze to a bright pink explosion off in the distance, admittedly far more breathtaking than the ancient fireworks Cartman had pulled out of his grandma’s ass.
“Dude,” Kyle says, “I think that came from the farm.”
Nobody is surprised. Stan groans loudly and Kyle sympathetically pats his friend on the shoulder. Of course, Randy Marsh has brought out the fireworks. He’s Randy Marsh. “Last time he did fireworks he nearly burned down half of the field!”
Kenny snorts at Stan’s misery. He checks his cracked phone and looks back up. “It’s almost midnight. At least he’s mostly on time.”
“God, one day the entire barn is going to burn down, and I’m going to dance on its ashes.”
“Just don’t let Cartman near the ashes, he’ll probably eat them.” Kyle grins.
Another firework drowns out whatever reply Cartman shoots at him. Stan, being the closest to him, says something in return that Kyle can’t hear. It’s for the best. Cartman makes his blood pressure rise to unhealthy levels. A poke at his arm makes him turn.
Kenny meets him, wiggling his eyebrows with a cheeky smile. “Y’know what you're supposed to do to have good luck in the new year?”
“What?” Kyle humors him, though he knows where this is going. His heart beats a little faster, but it’s just a joke, he reminds himself, Kenny loves to flirt as a joke. He crosses his arms just so Kenny knows that he means business and will not be kissing him for some stupid little superstition. Even if he really, really wants to.
“You gotta kiss someone!”
By the time it’s midnight, Tweek has abandoned his lego and instead joined Craig on the bed, watching some youtube essay about aliens with the captions on. Tweek is half asleep with his chin on Craig’s shoulder at what’s sure to be an uncomfortable angle due to his headphones.
Fireworks start up again, quieter than the first round, so Craig assumes they’re from one of the nearby towns. With them being less obnoxious, he deems it safe enough to wake up Tweek. Craig gently nudges him until he blinks his eyes open and sleepily hums. He looks so peaceful like this, Craig wants to put him in his pocket and keep him safe there for the rest of his life. Rather than searching for ways to shrink his boyfriend, Craig points to his ears.
Tweek hums again and sits up, taking his headphones off so he can hear. Another firework goes off, making Tweek flinch, though less aggressively than he had earlier. “Hey,” he says, voice laced with sleep.
“It’s almost twelve. Do you wanna watch the fireworks now?” Craig brushes a few stray hairs out of Tweek’s eyes.
His lips purse as he considers it, and Craig thinks it might be the cutest thing he’s seen in his life. “Sure!” Tweek smiles and pulls himself out of bed, stretching his arms above his head before offering a hand that Craig happily takes. He allows himself to be dragged to the window, which Tweek opens, letting in the cold air.
Craig pulls him closer without a second thought, his hand resting on Tweek’s hip. Tweek laughs, and Craig rolls his eyes. He’s a touchy guy, sue him. Color blooms in the sky, hidden by houses and trees, but still bright enough to be seen. Craig thanks the lord that they’re further away and much more quiet, because he gets to see Tweek’s eyes widen with awe, and he doesn’t so much as squeak at the booms. He trembles less than his usual amount, which is something that only happens in Craig’s presence, and Craig takes great pride in that fact. Knowing he makes Tweek calm makes his heart swell with pride and pure, unadulterated joy.
Tweek turns to him and grins. “You’re not watching the fireworks.”
“Nope.” Craig replies, popping the p.
“Isn’t new years supposed to be about the fireworks?”
He shrugs, and pulls Tweek a little closer. “I thought it was about the earth completing another circle around the sun.”
“You’re such a nerd,” Tweek rolls his eyes, but his words drip with fondness.
Craig scoffs at that. “You were building legos earlier.”
Tweek speaks with a very matter-of-fact tone. “Yeah, and legos are cool.” His face moves a little closer to Craig’s, and more fireworks go off in the distance, and Craig thinks that he’s going to spend the entire next year with Tweek in his arms. Yeah, he’s never letting go. Sorry, Tweek, but he signed up for this.
Instead of telling Tweek all the ways legos are, in fact, very nerdy, Craig kisses the smartass look off his face.
He’s sure that they’ve kissed countless times by now, considering they’ve been together since they were nine, but Tweek’s lips against his never gets old. It just keeps getting better, actually. His free hand cups Tweek’s cheek, and Tweek’s own hands wrap around his neck. He smoothly pulls Craig’s beloved hat off to run his hands through his hair, because he knows Craig likes it, that sneaky bastard.
They’re both smiling far too much for this kiss to be anything productive, and soon they’ll be giggling over it like children, and maybe all is right in the world. Craig wouldn’t want to go into the new year any other way.
Kenny, despite his joking tone, is dead serious. Superstitions are no joke. He would know, he’s died to them more times than he can count. He avoids black cats like the plague even though he really wants to pet them.
Kyle also seems to be dead serious, with the point blank expression he has on his face. “I’m not kissing you for some new years superstition.”
He makes sure he pouts very pathetically. Kenny doesn’t want bad luck. He also might just really, really want to kiss Kyle. It’s not his fault Kyle is so damn gorgeous, and his face is just so damn kissable. Truly, it should be a crime. “But, Kyle,” he whines, “Then we’ll both have bad luck.”
“That’s a stupid reason to kiss someone.”
Fine. Kenny huffs. No Kyle kiss for him. “Maybe I just want to kiss you,” he grumbles under his breath.
With the fireworks exploding in the background, Kenny was pretty sure Kyle wouldn’t have heard that, but then the redhead turns to him with cheeks pinker from something that isn’t the cold. It makes Kenny’s heart stutter in his chest. A familiar feeling that Kenny finds is associated with Kyle more often than it isn’t these days. “What was that?”
Because Kenny is nothing if not someone who sticks to his words, he doubles down. “I said,” Kenny practically whispers, because Cartman is nearby. “That maybe I just want to kiss you.”
Something lights up in Kyle’s eyes. It might be hope. Suddenly, the winter air isn’t that cold anymore, and Kyle is closer than he was a second ago. He glances at Stan and Cartman, seeing they’re still watching the fireworks, then looks back to Kenny with a small smile on his face. “Really?” His voice is small, small like a kid who really wants something but isn’t sure if it’s okay.
“Yeah,” Kenny grins and looks Kyle up and down.
Yeah, he wants this. He wants to kiss Kyle. And, maybe he’s wanted to kiss Kyle for a lot longer than he realized. Perhaps the joking flirts weren’t as much of a joke as he’d led himself to believe. Possibly, it’s been Kyle for longer than it hasn’t, and Kenny’s been too dense to see it.
A gloved hand rests on Kenny’s cheek, the fabric frayed and scratchy, but Kenny doesn’t mind. More fireworks go off and the fatass yells something at Stan in the background and Kenny barely registers any of it, because he’s too focused on Kyle slowly getting closer. His eyes flutter closed as their lips finally land against each others’. The literal fireworks are very representative of the metaphorical ones that go off in Kenny’s brain as Kyle’s hands find his shoulders, dragging him even closer. Kenny grabs Kyle’s waist and tilts his head and it’s perfect.
No, nothing else matters. He’d like to stay here forever, he thinks. Just him and Kyle and their breaths mingling between them and the cold wind that he doesn’t feel because his skin has turned into molten lava. Nothing could ruin this.
“Gross, get a room you fucking fags!”
Nothing except Eric Cartman.
They separate as Stan shoves his elbow into Cartman’s side with a very loud “Dude!”
Kyle looks downright murderous. Kenny decides that if Cartman gets pushed off a SoDoSoPa roof tonight, he wouldn’t mind. He’d help cover it up, actually. They could be partners in crime. Stan wouldn’t even turn them in for it. Yes, it’s a perfect plan.
He kisses Kyle again so he doesn’t commit a crime, and he has a feeling that the new year will be very lucky indeed.