LOL K SORRY I KNOW I HAVE A COUPLE OF IN PROGRESS FICS but Kennybox from DA kept bullying and harassing me to write Creek, so I did, I fucking did, you'd better be goddamn happy because I wrote it in two hours so you know it's going to obviously be some high quality stuff. ...I love writing, I love writing and drawing, ah, I can never pick my favorite. Drawing is easier and faster, though, so points there. Have your Tweek top. Not as creepy and obsessive as I wanted it to be.


It made him bite his lips. It made his heart go crazy and his palms get sweaty so that he had to rub them on his pants. Sometimes, he didn't know if he was sick or not, because his temperature would rise and he would get dizzy, unable to speak or think coherently. Or maybe he was sick, but not physically. Sick in the mind. Sick, because he couldn't stop watching Craig Tucker.

Maybe it was because they hadn't been friends since Elementary school and he missed him, but Tweek didn't think so. Tweek had friends, lots of friends like Kevin and Clyde and Butters, but not as many as he might have liked to have. Then again, Tweek never really was that outgoing, he didn't like making friends. He didn't like that uncomfortable feeling of introduction.

But there was no introduction with Craig, because Craig didn't talk to people unless they talked to him, first. Craig knew everybody, because everybody knew everybody. They'd had the same class since third grade (Mr. Garrison said it was because the school board was shit, but they all knew he just didn't like memorizing new names). And because Craig didn't approach anyone, he ignored everyone. Maybe someone else would have noticed Tweek's staring, but Craig didn't.

It just sort of became a habit. He would get twitchy, paranoid, even more than usual, and would have to get up and leave the class to go to the nurse for a breather. He would sit outside the door, waiting for the nurse with the fetus attached to her head, and look over at the boy who was sitting in front of the counselor's office. Every time he left, he would be there. Tweek never remembered Craig being dismissed from class, but he was always there.

And so he'd look at him, watch him while he waited because there was nothing else to do. There was a clock, and it would tick, tick, tick while Tweek stared at him. The clock would tick and Tweek would twitch, but Craig just sat there. So apathetic, so indifferent. Stoic. Detached. Craig was his opposite, because if Tweek was too oversensitive, Craig just didn't care enough to care.

Craig made him calm.

Nothing bothered Craig, Craig didn't care. Or maybe he did care, maybe he hated everything, so everything was on the same level, and he gave nothing extra treatment or energy. Everything received the middle finger because everything was the same, everything was worthy of hate. Tweek wished he could be like that, wished he could be so nonchalant and not worry about the threat of a nuclear holocaust or the swine flu. But he couldn't, all he could ever think about was danger and germs and murder and gnomes.

Maybe he should wear a hat, like Craig. Craig seemed the most protected when he wore his hat, like he was in his own world where nothing bothered him. Craig's hat covered his ears, the same hat he had worn as a child, although he now changed outfits on a regular basis. In fact, he changed his outfits a lot. Tweek hadn't seen him wear the same shirt more than once during a given month. He must have had a lot of clothes. He imagined his closet looked very blue.

Craig wore blue almost every day. Usually a shirt or a jacket or a coat, but sometimes the only blue he wore was socks or the sliver of boxers he could see when he leaned forward. But there was always blue. Blue and black and white. Craig was like a bruise; where the rest of the class was colorful and loud, Craig was quiet and dark. Dark hair, dark clothes, dark personality. No one wanted to touch a bruise, because bruises hurt.

Tweek didn't mind bruises, they reminded him to keep alert and that he could get harmed, that his paranoia wasn't for nothing. Sometimes Craig had bruises too, though. He wondered if he got in fights often, and remembered back to the time that they had fought each other. Back when they used to be friends, when they talked. What did friends matter though, anyway? Tweek knew more about Craig now than he did when they spent the nights at each other's houses.

And really, he knew a lot. On Mondays, Craig would come to school without Token who he usually got a ride with. Mondays seemed hard on Craig (he might like coffee), and he spent almost all day just tapping his pencil on the side of his desk while looking out the window. On Mondays he ate cold pizza for lunch that he kept on the top shelf of his locker, his locker that was strangely clean. Everything about Craig was clean, except for Craig himself. He was a blank slate.

Nice clothes, nice looks, no expression, perfect hair; all meticulous apart from when he would scowl. Tuesdays through Sundays were Craig's scowling days where he hated everything, where he would stop tapping his pencil and just color his paper over and over until it was covered in graphite and it rubbed off onto his sleeve when he rested his arm on it. His expression didn't change, but Tweek could tell he was mad, could tell from the slight way that his jaw moved that he was clenching his teeth as he ground his pencil into the paper.

Sometimes he would hold his breath as he did this, and Tweek would count the seconds that he couldn't see his chest move. One, two, three- usually only up to fifteen, but sometimes longer or shorter depending on exactly how mad he was. But Craig breathed deliberately as if it was a conscious act to stay alive. He breathed slowly, taking in each breath, and his chest rose and fell while Tweek watched his clothes rustle.

Tweek knew how many seconds usually passed between Craig's breaths, how many freckles he had on his left arm, every cut on his exposed skin, the many different pairs of jeans he had, how many ketchup packets he ate with school lunch, and the number of times he blinked within a minute. And even if Tweek was quiet and didn't have many friends, he liked him.

He liked him a lot. He wanted to know everything about him, everything that he couldn't know by watching him. Craig just seemed so distant, so unearthly, distant from everything that Tweek was scared of. Tweek wanted that, wanted that distance and calmness, he wanted Craig. He wanted Craig very, very badly. If he had Craig, then Tweek imagined his life would be perfect.

It wasn't as if Craig would change Tweek, but that Craig would change the world around Tweek. Nothing would hurt Tweek because nothing would want to challenge Craig. Just his presence made everything better, just sitting in class next to him made everything better. Tweek liked to imagine sometimes that Craig liked him back, and he would look over at him from the corner of his eye and just watch as he stared, bored, at the whiteboard. From profile, Tweek always noticed what long eyelashes Craig had.

Craig was all sharp angles. In personality, anyway. His face was round but with pronounced cheekbones, small chin and a long nose. He was thin, but not boney. He looked soft, very soft, but his eyes were so hard and cold and sharp, just like himself. But when he looked forward, his eyes cold and judgmental and full of hate, he looked so- innocent, like he understood the truth of the world and hadn't been dirtied with hopes and didn't believe false promises, like he could never be changed. Craig was Craig was Craig.

Sometimes, Tweek wondered if he would feel soft, or if he would hurt.

He thought about this often, during school and work and home, while he was watching him and while he slept, because Tweek always thought about Craig. Tweek wanted Craig, he needed Craig, he needed Craig to make everything better. He wanted to be like Craig and he wanted to admire Craig, but not from a distance. Watching drove him insane, it made him bite his lips and his heart go crazy. He would do anything anything to have Craig and to be like Craig and to talk to Craig and to know every little thing about Craig. He just wanted Craig to look at up at him.

Because he could follow him home, watch him while he was in his room playing with his guinea pig, and stare at him during school, but Craig never, ever, looked back. Tweek didn't exist to him. But he wanted to exist. He wanted Craig to know he was there, to know that he knew every little thing about him, to know that he knew about that time when he was four and broke his leg, about how he knew how long it took him to fall asleep, and what kind of detergent he used. More than anything, Tweek wanted Craig to know he loved him so much. Too much.

But it wouldn't happen. Tweek was too scared, too nervous, because Craig was too perfect and he didn't know what would happen if Craig shot him down and looked at him with that hate in his eyes. Or, worse yet, the absolute apathy he held. He could wait. Tweek had to wait. Maybe one day he would come up to him, one day he would turn and speak to him, even pass a paper to him, but he didn't know when because Tweek wasn't Craig. He didn't understand everything.

He didn't understand why he left his textbook at school, either. Every day he made sure to take all of things with him back home because there was so much pressure! But maybe it was because he usually followed Craig back home, and Craig stayed at school for detention. That was why he forgot. Craig made him focused.

It was six in the afternoon and the school was probably locked, but Tweek ran back anyway. His car had a flat, and he couldn't fix it because he kept shaking. He had to call a repairman. School was three miles away, though, and even with his speed it took him a long while so that the sun was setting by the time he finally reached the front doors. The cold made him jittery, and coupled with his exertion, he gasped for breath. He jiggled the handles of the door, and praised Jesus when it opened.

The custodian was still mopping, so he asked for the keys to room 206, dropping them when the man tossed them to him since he was twitching so much. He just wanted to get in and get out, get his textbook and leave, so he jogged up the stairs and down the hall to his classroom, his sneakers squeaking with every step. The keys felt heavy in his hands, and he fumbled with them, muttering to himself when he dropped them again, trying each individual one until the knob twisted open.

The classroom was all orange from the sunset, and everything felt hot even though it was so cold outside. Visiting the room in the evening was so much different from school; it didn't feel like a classroom. It was just a room with desks and motivational posters on the wall. Nothing special. Nothing special apart from Craig.

Tweek had closed the door behind him before he turned to survey the room. And in the back, in his usual seat, was Craig. Just Craig. Craig, staring out the window as if nothing had changed, as if school was still in session. His face was bright from the sun, colorful, but everything else was in purple shadow. Purple, blue, and black. Tweek didn't know how to react.

During school, it was different, because everyone was around them and Tweek wasn't alone. He could admire him from afar with other people, because Craig didn't notice him. Now, Craig noticed him, had to have noticed him come inside. Tweek's palms felt sweaty and he felt sick, shaking too hard and making absolutely no noise, as if it would scare Craig away. But nothing scared Craig, and he didn't even look his way.

Confronting Craig scared him, so Tweek acted as if nothing was wrong, as if he was not even there. He walked down an isle of desks to his cubby (The school hadn't even changed their home rooms, it was still the fourth grade classroom). Tweek's hands didn't work as he moved things around in his locker, feeling clumsy because his brain was overwhelmed with Craig. He knocked his thermos out of the cubby and it fell to the ground, cracking as cold coffee spilled everywhere.

"S-Shit!" He was twitching like mad now, knowing that Craig had to have heard that, had to have known of what a fool he was. Not seeing any paper towels, Tweek grabbed one of his spare jackets and began mopping up the mess and only succeeding in making a bigger one. He continued to curse softly, wanting to cry. His jacket was dripping wet when he hung it back up and finally got his textbook out, turning to leave.

"Why don't you ever say anything to me."

The question (statement?) made Tweek's stomach turn cold. Craig's voice. Craig was speaking to him. He didn't turn to look back at him.

"I-I don't know what you- ah! mean!" The 'ah!' slipped out, he hadn't meant it, he was too nervous.

"You watch me everyday. I can feel you staring at me. Every day. You never say anything."

His voice didn't sound mad, but he didn't quiet sound bored, either. Tweek's heart pounded in his ears. "I-" he didn't know what to say, he was screwed. He couldn't deny it, or Craig would think he was a freak, a bigger freak. But he couldn't admit it, either, because Craig would never speak to him again. …But there was no loss, there. "I didn't think you noticed." His voice was a whisper, and his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was clenching his notebook.

"Oh, I notice. I just don't care."

Time slipped between them. The clock tick, tick, tick'd on the wall but Tweek didn't twitch. In the face of terror, he was calm. Craig was waiting for him to speak, because Craig knew. He knew all along.

"…Why are you still here?" Tweek's voice was still a whisper, scared to recognize that he was speaking to Craig.

There was a pause, but Craig eventually answered. "I like things that are boring. School is boring, I hate school. Home is too loud and exciting. I just like it here."

"…Oh, I'm sorry." There was that silence, that awkward silence that followed Tweek everywhere, even to the person that he cared the most about.

"You should know that, you've been watching me so long that you should know that."

Tweek heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and his heart doubled its already quadrupled speed, hyperventilating so hard that he thought he would pass out, twitching heavily. And then the inevitable. There was a pressure around his arm. Craig was touching him. Craig was holding onto his arm, turning him around to face him.

"What's your problem." Craig's eyes were sharp, so sharp, and Tweek was so scared and nervous and overwhelmed and he loved him and he could barely choke out a reply.

"N-Nothing." Another whisper, but hoarse this time.

Craig looked up at him, being so short compared to Tweek, and he didn't believe his lie. Craig never did, Craig understood everything. "Why do you keep looking at me, why do you keep watching me like I'm so interesting and goddamn special."

Overwhelmed, Tweek was so overwhelmed and hot and his brain was full of thoughts and mush and Craig and terror and noise and CRAIG.

"Are you jealous or something, are you mad I don't like you anymore." There was malice in his voice, the way Tweek was used to hearing it. Why did he think he would be so special as to deserve anything else? "Are you some kind of sick fuck? Is that why you're always twitching, some druggie? You think I'm going to sell you drugs or something? Why do you keep following me."

The grip on his arm was so tight and his eyes were so dark and his voice was so strong when Tweek could barely breathe. Could barely choke out "Love you."

"No such thing. Give me a synonym."

And Craig was on his tiptoes and Tweek's book fell out of his hands and Craig kissed him. Craig kissed him and he was soft. Tweek was right, Craig was soft. His lips were soft and all that hatred and anger was gone. Craig was kissing him. Craig was looking at him and Craig was touching him and Craig had been speaking to him and Craig was touching him. Craig was Craig was Craig. Right there. All right there. Craig. Tweek couldn't handle it.

All of the thoughts were gone from his brain as Tweek grabbed Craig's arms, holding him tighter than he had done to him before. He held him tight tight tight so he wouldn't run away because Tweek was kissing Craig and Tweek wanted this so bad. Craig shifted, taken off guard when he grabbed him, but yelped when Tweek pushed him back against a desk. There were no thoughts in Tweek's mind as he held him down, still kissing him so hard like he was starving and nothing would ever satisfy him.

Craig's lips felt so good against his, felt so close and so right and so Craig. Tweek held his arms down at his sides for a safe precaution, but Craig didn't struggle, he kissed back, leaning his head up to meet Tweek. He could feel that his face was hot, such a contradiction from someone so cold, and Tweek felt rushed. He didn't want this opportunity to squeeze by him, he wanted everything then, right then.

"What are you-"

Tweek's mouth was on his neck and his hands were on his clothes, pulling, as his body held Craig down. His skin was so soft and pale, and his hands shook from touching him. Too beautiful and perfect, Craig was everything he imagined him to be. He couldn't get enough, and he sucked at the skin on his jawbone, making blood rise up to the surface as his hands pushed his shirt up.

Although Craig's face was hot, his body was cold against his fingertips. He splayed his fingers out against his chest, moving his hand repeatedly up and down his torso, going higher each time he moved upwards. Craig, so much Craig. Apathetic, horrible, mean Craig underneath him and he was touching him and he was lying back against the desk as Tweek kissed him. So soft and perfect, not chubby or boney but absolutely perfect and right. Tweek took Craig's hat off and Craig was forced to share his world with him.

His hands were in his hair, black hair that parted across his forehead, hair that was clumping in strange places from his hat. Tweek had never seen Craig without his hat, not ever, and his hands were in his hair, keeping him down and touching him as he moved his knee in between Craig's legs, parting them.

"You- always look at me," Craig said as Tweek kissed his collarbone, dragging his tongue up towards the junction of his shoulder and neck, "and watching me all the time, you keep staring at me." His hands were underneath Craig's back, touching the dip in his spine and between his shoulder blades. "You're so fucking obsessed with me, you're so creepy. 'Follow me home…" He felt the heel of Craig's foot hook behind his knee, and Tweek moved even closer to him, if possible. "I bet you- thought about- this all the time you kept staring at me." His voice was catching and Tweek felt his erection.

"Yeah." Tweek wasn't whispering anymore.

"You're going to fuck me, aren't you?" Craig looked up at him, and it was a question, not a statement, and his eyes were not apathetic or bored or malicious. Tweek would have recognized the look if it was on anyone else but Craig.

"Yeah."

"Okay." And Craig kissed him again, no more words. There had never been words, Tweek didn't need words, Tweek knew all about him without words. His mouth was hot hot and his tongue was wet and Tweek could feel his still sort of fucked up teeth. His hands weren't clumsy as he pulled at Craig's jacket, and the short boy wriggled out of it, tossing it to the side. He looked a lot smaller without a jacket or coat or hoodie, and Tweek wondered how someone as small as he was could be so intimidating and cruel.

Craig tugged at his coat and Tweek pulled it off, the first time his hands had been off of him since the initial kiss, and it felt wrong so he immediately went back to touching him. Tweek fumbled with his belt, cursing, and Craig helped him along, unbuckling it as Tweek zipped down his pants. Their breathing was hard and he moved to kiss him again as Craig lay back against the table. It was easier to unbuckle his own belt.

He set his palm down flat against Craig's crotch, rubbing the heel of his palm down. Craig moaned, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I thought about this, yeah." Tweek said, pulling down Craig's pants. His belt clanked against the floor. "I thought you- would be soft and- and feel so good like this." His fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers – blue – and he tugged them down too. Craig's penis bobbed up, no longer confined. "But I didn't think I would ever get to-"

His hands were shaking, now, as he looked down at Craig. Craig looked up at him and their eyes met. Tentatively, he touched the inside of Craig's thigh, setting his palm down flat as he moved his hand up, touching, until it rest at the base of his erection, the tips of his fingers touching his pubic hair. Craig continued to look up at him, and Tweek knew it was okay. His fingers curled around the base, his thumb pressing against the underside of Craig's penis.

Craig hissed, closing his eyes, and Tweek moved his hand upward, tightening more. It felt just like any other piece of flesh, but softer, just like Tweek's own, and he knew how to do this. He knew how fast to move his hand, where he should touch, and when. Hearing Craig's intake of breath was only reassuring, and Tweek leaned over him, kissing his cheek as he placed his free hand against Craig's leg. His fingers travelled down, and although Craig had to have known what was going to happen, he tensed when Tweek moved one of his fingers into him.

He paused, and kissed Craig again, waiting, before Craig said nothing and he continued. His hand moved in rhythm with his finger, pushing it in and then pulling out, pumping up and down. After awhile he inserted his ring finger gently, scissoring his fingers inside him and Craig grit his teeth. He must have hit his prostate.

Since it felt good enough for Craig to moan, Tweek felt like he was ready, and drew back. Craig opened his eyes and watched as he searched his coat pockets for a condom. He didn't want AIDS or an STD or anything, and even though he doubted Craig had any, he could never be too sure. He ripped it open and Craig watched as he pulled down his pants, struggling to get it on but eventually succeeding.

"You've never done this before, have you?" There was no concern in Craig's nasally voice, there never was.

"…No."

Craig didn't comment, and Tweek assumed most people didn't assume he slept around. And he didn't, Tweek was a virgin. Craig would be his first.

"…Have you?"

"No."

Something inside Tweek's chest went wild, and his mouth felt dry, the happiness overwhelming. First. He was Craig's first and he would never, ever forget no matter what. They were sharing this together, both of them. He moved back to him, kissing him as he moved his hips forward. Craig turned his head to meet his lips, and he felt his hands reach around to hold onto his back as he spread his legs.

Tweek moved his hand to hold onto his erection, lining it up. Another kiss and Tweek didn't need anymore encouragement. He moved his hips forward, wanting to just thrust into him as hard and as fast as he could and keep that pace, but he went slowly for Craig.

"S-Shit!" Craig grit his teeth, and Tweek paused.

"Are you-"

"Keep going." Craig cut him off, looking concentrated and staring up at the ceiling. Tweek nodded, and continued to push into him.

He felt good, so good just like kissing him did. Warm and soft and so not like Craig, but it was Craig and it felt like Craig. It was as close to him as he'd ever get, and Tweek was so happy he could die. He grabbed onto Craig's upper arms again and kissed him hard, grinding his hips into him when he was in as far as he could go. Their heartbeats were fast as their chests pressed against each other's.

Craig, Craig was Craig was Craig. Everything was Craig, the whole room was Craig, the whole world was Craig to Tweek. All he could think about was Craig, and nothing else. There could never be anything else, because Tweek was inside him and Craig was kissing him and he loved him. He loved everything about him, all the different pairs of socks he had and the detergent he used and the number of freckles on his arms. He loved the way he brushed everything aside and how he didn't give in to anyone and how he understood everything so well. Craig, Craig was Craig and Tweek loved Craig.

There was a time when Tweek decided that the shorter boy was okay, and so he moved his hips back, drawing out of him, panting, before pushing in again. Craig's jaw was still clenched, but the more he moved, the less tense he became. He became used to it, and relaxed, his hair moving every time Tweek thrust into him.

"-Yes."

Something felt good to him, then, some combination of what Tweek was doing, and Craig tightened his legs around him, pulling him closer closer. He bucked up against him, and Tweek's hand reached between them to grab onto his erection, making Craig gasp. He reached his arms up above his head, so that they bent at the elbow over the desk. Tweek was in control, in absolute control of Craig and Craig accepted it and loved it and wanted it. Tweek was doing everything perfect, and Craig trusted him enough to just go along for the ride.

He watched the expressions on Craig's face change. His eyes stayed closed, but would sometimes open along with his mouth when Tweek thrust into him, before closing again. Sometimes his lips would purse, and sometimes his eyebrows would furrow. Sometimes, he grit his teeth and other times Tweek thought he was smiling. Exertion was written across his face as Tweek rocked into him, the desk squeaking against the tiled floor.

"-Craig." His voice was raspy and he felt overwhelmed, heat pooling in the pit of his abdomen. Craig didn't reply or look up at him, but he heard him moan. "Craig I'm- I'm gonna-"

"I know. I've- been watching- you." He did look up, then, and their eyes met and their bodies met and their words met and their mouths met as they kissed and fucked. Hands were in hair and hips collided against each other as they moaned into their connected mouths.

Tweek's pace became erratic and he couldn't help himself from just plowing into Craig, whose body jerked backwards and forwards with each thrust. His voice was low as he moaned, his face looking almost pained before he came, hot spurts of semen hitting his chest and dripping onto Tweek's hand. He continued to pump him, watching his face before he followed suit, grabbing onto his shoulders and slumping his head forward. His hips twitched, and for that second he wished he hadn't worn a condom so he could have cum inside him, but it was okay, because everything was perfect.

So, so perfect. It wasn't just orgasm, it was everything. It was Craig and his breath and his eyes and hair and lips. Everything everything everything. So hot and warm and intimate, together, because Tweek now knew things about Craig that no one else did. No one else, ever. Never ever, because Craig was his and Tweek would make sure of that.


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