Work Text:
Despite all the stupid shit they’ve pulled in the past, Craig thinks hiring a group of impersonators to fight them is the stupidest thing Cartman, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny have done. They even got a copycat New Kid. And a copycat Craig. The whole gang is costumed in these elaborate superhero outfits (they weren't even playing superheros anymore) spouting some backstory about time travel and Mitch Connor, whoever that is.
Their impressions were pretty spot-on though. Craig has no idea where they got the money for actors this good.
“What are you kids doing? We stopped playing superheros like five days ago.” Kyle, the real one, says.
“Get lost douchebags!” Butters yells behind him.
The fake Craig scoffs.
“This isn't a trick. It's me, Craig.”
That fucking does it.
“Fuck you dude,” Craig says, “I’m Craig.”
Fake Craig rolls his eyes.
Butters yells another lukewarm insult, and the two Kyles jump into an argument about game semantics. At this point Craig should walk away and find something better to do, but it’s too late in the evening to catch a movie and all of his friends are preoccupied with this bullshit.
“We don't have time for this,” Mysterion says as he steps between the two groups, “Stand aside. We have to get to Cartman now.”
Kyle thrusts his staff towards him, pushing it into Mysterion’s chest.
“Well,” He drags the staff along Mysterion’s body, stopping once it reaches the bottom of his chin. “You’ll just have to get past us.”
That’s their cue.
At least Cartman and his gang took the time to explain the combat rules to the imposters, and they manage to wait their turn and adhere to the status effects pretty accurately. Craig can't imagine the headache it’d give Kyle if they misplayed. And he can't imagine the headache it’d give him to hear Kyle bitch about their misplays.
Butters is down before the end of the third turn, defeated by some kind of psychic attack fake Wendy sent with her phone. Since when did they even let chicks play with them? Stan is pretty badly injured himself, and once the copycat New Kid inflicts bleeding on him, he motions for Craig to swap places with him.
Fake Craig is also on the field.
Punching his impersonator is pretty satisfying, the loud crack of his knuckles against his jaw as fake Craig is sent flying back into Jimmy. His hat is askew from the impact, and the paper taped to his chest has crumpled slightly. Fake Craig attempts to smooth it down, but his thumb snags on the tape in the process and he rips it clean off his jacket.
“Shit.”
When it finally circles around to his turn, fake Craig only has eyes for Craig. He feigns nonchalance as he gears up for his attack, but Craig can tell by the furrow of his eyebrows that he’s pissed.
Getting punched by his impersonator is a much less satisfying feeling.
Craig recoils from the force of the punch, his chest and neck lurching forward as fake Craig’s fist collides with his gut. His stomach churns as he stumbles backwards, and the soreness in his stomach suggests that he's already beginning to bruise.
Craig wants nothing more than to beat the shit out of him, but if he doesn't use his next turn to heal, he’ll be out of the fight before he can even consider killing his alternate self.
Kyle trades places with the New Kid and Kenny falls dead in the meantime.
He wastes the next turn on a bag of Cheesy Poofs, but it gives him enough energy to rejoin the fight.
Unluckily for him, fake Craig’s turn is next. Judging by the smirk on his face, the fucker has something good planned for it.
Fake Craig extends his hand towards the sidelines, and the group gasps and cheers as fake Tweek walks towards him. Fake Butters yells something about a “special move”, which causes the real Butters to stutter through an “oh, hamburgers”.
Fake Tweek takes fake Craig’s hand, throwing pink flowers with his free one as the two of them lean towards each other and-
"What the fuck?”
There’s a flash of light as they kiss, knocking Craig and his remaining allies to the ground, killing the last few of them. Fake Craig pats fake Tweek on the back before joining their group of friends in a circle of high-fives and compliments to celebrate their victory.
Craig says nothing as the group shoves past him, forcing their way down the street to Cartman’s house, hell-bent on reaching Kupa Keep.
The fake Tweek and Craig are still holding hands, even as they disappear through Cartman’s front door.
“What a bunch of dirty cheaters.”
“Yeah, who do they think they are?”
Craig rejoins his friends on the sidewalk, watching as they complain over shared ice packs and branded band-aids. Tweek is locked into a conversation with Kyle, the latter passionately threatening Cartman as he hands Tweek a bag of frozen peas.
The way Tweek takes the bag from him is surprisingly gentle, the shake of his hands calming to an occasional twitch as he presses the bag to his swollen forehead. The skin of his knuckles is bright red, raw and splitting from the fight.
Craig doesn't know much about Tweek, but he knows that when Tweek fights, he fights hard.
Part of him wants to walk over there and ask Tweek if he saw their “special” move. Tweek hasn't glanced in his direction once, nor has Craig heard him say anything about it, so there's a nonzero chance that Craig imagined what he saw.
It’d be a strange thing to imagine.
Craig has pictured himself kissing girls plenty. Most boys have. He knows that he’ll be kissing all kinds of girls in high school, even if girls are kind of gross and clingy. But he's never considered kissing a boy, let alone a boy he’s previously hated.
Kissing boys is gay, and being gay is lame. If any of them were to turn out gay, it’d be Butters.
Cartman must've paid fake Craig extra to pretend to be a fag. It's exactly the kind of joke he'd play on Craig, and Craig can practically hear him laughing from his vantage point on the Kupa Keep watchtower.
But fake Craig looked so happy. He was wearing the same tiny smile Craig wears when he's alone and watching his favorite show.
And there is a small chance that he wasn't lying about being Craig from the future. They did seem a little too spot-on to be actors.
Somebody places their hand on Craig’s shoulder.
“You alright?” It’s Stan, holding a cold pack out for Craig.
“Thanks.” Craig mutters, pressing the icepack against his jaw. He tries not to wince as his hand grazes the swollen area.
“You look like shit,” Stan says, gesturing to the array of bruises along Craig’s body, “They did a number on us.”
“Yeah.”
Stan takes a seat on the curb beside him. “You think that was really us? Like from the future?”
Craig shrugs. “That’s stupid.”
“Yeah, but they looked like us. And they knew a lot about us. Maybe they were telling the truth.”
Craig glances towards Tweek again. He’s touching up the war paint on his arms, tracing black circles with his finger where the paint rubbed off. His lines are terribly uneven, wobbly on his left arm and borderline jagged on his right, and he curses under his breath everytime he fucks one up.
Craig helped him with his costume once a few weeks ago, when they first started playing their fantasy game. Tweek wanted the war paint to reach his back and asked Craig if he'd be willing to lend a hand. Craig refused at first, but once he agreed, he spent almost ten whole minutes making sure each stripe was perfect. He remembers how warm Tweek’s skin felt against his fingers.
“I think it’s bullshit,” he tells Stan, “No way they're us from the future.”
“Maybe.” Stan points to Kupa Keep. “But it looks like they got Cartman.”
The top of the cardboard watchtower peaks over the edge of the fence, and Craig can see Cartman’s wizard hat disappear as he’s pulled down the ladder. Serves him right for paying fake Craig to be gay. Probably.
Craig hands his ice pack to Stan, turning away from the mess happening at Kupa Keep. If the guys wanna start playing superheros again instead of humans and elves, that’s not his problem right now. Sunset is in an hour, and his mom is gonna be pissed if he isn't back by then. Besides, his jaw is aching, and he can't imagine the way his stomach must look under his clothes.
Craig has to pass Tweek on the way to his house. He tries his best to keep his gaze forward, focused solely on the road ahead of him, but he can't help but sneak a glance in Tweek’s direction as he passes him.
Tweek catches his eye and smiles, revealing a crack in his front tooth.
“Great work out there.” he says. “We almost had ‘em.”
“Thanks,” Craig ducks his head. If he’s blushing, it’s from his injuries. “You too.”
He’s gonna kill Cartman for making him look gay next time he sees him.
Probably.