Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - Stupid Shirt
Tweek Tweak had changed his shirt four times.
This was not, he felt, an unreasonable thing to do.
The first shirt had been too wrinkly. The second had been too formal. The third had been perfectly fine, actually, but then he'd looked in the mirror again and decided that it made him look like somebody's divorced uncle.
The fourth shirt was the one he'd started with.
He stood in front of his bedroom mirror, staring at his reflection with the grim determination of a man preparing for execution.
“Okay..” he mumbled.
He turned to the side.
“OH, WHO AM I KIDDING?” He cried out, “THIS IS TERRIBLE”
From downstairs, his mother called, "What's terrible, honey?"
"NOTHING!" He yelled back, yanking on his top.
“Your shirt looks fine!” She called up.
He paused. How did she know?
He looked at himself again. The shirt was fine. The pants were fine.
His hair was…
He touched his hair.
Oh, God.
His hair was doing that thing.
He had spent twenty minutes trying to get it to sit normally, and now one section was sticking up at an angle that suggested he'd recently survived an electrical accident.
Which, admittedly, wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility, given the amount of coffee he'd consumed that afternoon.
He tried flattening it, pressing in down to his head aggressively. It just sprang back up again.
“FUCK YOU” he grumbled at his own head.
Just then, his phone buzzed on the bed.
Tweek nearly jumped out of his skin before snagging it. It was Bebe messaging an overwhelmingly large group chat.
When Tweeks original friend group fell apart some time at the end of elementary school, Wendy pretty much adopted him as a member of her friend group.
Sure sometimes it was awkward being one of the only boys in a friend group full of gossipy teen girls, but they never seemed to mind.
Bebe: Everyone ready for tonight???
Wendy: Almost!
Tweek: YES
Bebe: WHY ARE YOU YELLING
Tweek: IM NOT YELLING
Wendy: You typing in all caps insinuates yelling 🥰
Tweek: UGH
Bebe: LMAOO be there soon bitches 😘
Tweek threw his phone onto the bed. He was going to die.
Not literally, probably. But he was going to arrive at homecoming, trip over his own feet, say something humiliating, and spend the next four years of high school being remembered as the guy who'd spontaneously combusted at his first dance.
And all because of one person.
One irritatingly quiet person who probably hadn't spent more than three seconds thinking about tonight.
Craig Tucker.
Tweek squeezed his eyes shut.
He'd known Craig since elementary school. They'd shared classes, sat near each other at lunch, and occasionally spent time together outside school with their mutual friends. Craig was sarcastic and blunt and almost impossible to embarrass.
He also had really nice eyes.
And a nice smile.
A smile Tweek had seen approximately six times in his entire life.
Tweek had been trying not to think about him for months, and it had been going terribly.
The worst part was that he didn't even know if Craig liked him back.
Sometimes Craig would sit beside him and make some dry little comment that would make Tweek laugh harder than it deserved. Sometimes he'd remember something Tweek had said weeks earlier. Sometimes Tweek would catch him looking at him across a room, only for Craig to turn away.
But all of that didn’t mean anything.
His phone buzzed again.
Wendy: We're picking you up in ten minutes. Please don't change your outfit again.
Tweek looked down at himself.
Tweek: I WASN'T GOING TO >:(
He absolutely had been.
He grabbed his jacket, checked that his phone was charged, checked that his wallet was in his pocket, and then checked both things again.
At the bedroom door, he stopped.
He took one last look at himself in the mirror.
The shirt was fine. His hair was fine. He looked nice.
Maybe Craig would think so.
Tweek immediately groaned, covered his face, and hurried downstairs before he could change anything else.
Tonight was going to be a disaster, he could feel it.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, beneath all the frantic thoughts and the mounting dread, there was a tiny, traitorous little voice that was actually looking forward to it.
Because he was going to see Craig.
And that, for him, was reason enough.
…
Craig Tucker had changed his shirt once.
He considered this a perfectly normal amount of preparation.
He'd put on the first shirt, looked in the mirror, decided it looked stupid, and changed into another one.
That was it. There was nothing more to discuss.
"You're wearing the black one?"
Craig looked up from his phone.
Clyde Donovan was standing in the doorway of Craig's bedroom, wearing a button-up shirt that looked like it had been through three world wars and doused in axe body spray.
"Yeah." Craig monotoned, “why?"
"Dude, I mean, why that one?" Clyde questioned.
Craig stared at him.
Clyde stared back.
"You're being weird," Craig said.
“And you changed your shirt. You never change your shirt” Clyde rebutted.
Craig slowly put his phone in his pocket.
“Clyde."
"What?"
"Do you want me to hit you with something?"
Clyde grinned.
"Oh my God."
Craig immediately regretted speaking.
"Oh my GOD."
"Get out."
"YOU'RE TRYING TO LOOK GOOD FOR SOMEONE."
"Get out."
"IS IT A GIRL?"
"Ew, no."
"SO, IT’S A GUY?"
Craig picked up a pillow.
Clyde fled, laughing so hard that he nearly tripped over the stairs.
Craig threw the pillow after him, missing by several feet. And He wasn't even going to pretend he'd been aiming.
Downstairs, his phone buzzed.
A message from Tolkien appeared on the screen.
Tolkien: You ready?
Craig: Yeah.
Tolkien: Clyde says you're dressing to impress someone.
Craig closed his eyes.
Craig: I'm going to kill him.
Tolkien: So that's a yes?
Craig: 🖕
Tolkien: Have fun tonight, man.
Craig put his phone away and looked in the mirror one last time.
The shirt was fine. He looked fine.
He didn't care what anyone thought.
Except…
He stopped himself.
No. Absolutely not.
He was not going to spend the entire evening worrying about whether Tweek thought he looked good.
That would be ridiculous.
He wasn't even sure Tweek was going.
Well, he was pretty sure Tweek was going. They'd talked about homecoming at school earlier that week, and Tweek had mentioned something about going with Wendy and Bebe.
Craig remembered that conversation in extraordinary detail.
He remembered where they'd been standing, what Tweek had been wearing, and the exact moment Tweek had smiled at him.
Which was normal.
Craig picked up his jacket as his phone buzzed one more time.
Clyde: if you see tweek you should tell him he looks nice ;)
Craig froze.
He stared at the message before he typed:
Craig: Why would I do that?
Clyde responded almost immediately.
Clyde: NO REASONN HAHAHA
Which was then followed by a series of crude emojis and gay pride flags.
Craig blocked his number. Only for approximately twelve seconds though, because Clyde was still supposed to be his ride.
This was going to be a very long night.