[Vector is online]
[Maverik is online]
[beez_inda_trap is online]
Vector so then you just enter the binary and re-route the system
beez_inda_trap what kind of lossage should I be expecting?
Vector a dragon, mostly. Also, he'll be so swamped with pop-ups. Then you send him a patch to seal the deal and soon you'll be getting copies of all his shit
bezz_inda_trap cupsy. Thnx.
[Plague is online]
Plague maverick, I got your shit. You want me to use the same server as last time?
Maverik hello to you too, Plague dearest. Yes. Will the agreed fee of $700 do?
Plague yep. Send it to my combine.
Vector combine, huh? Who are you hiding from, Plague? too risky anymore?
Plague yes, actually. I'm working on something at the moment, so no more requests. Speaking of which, I have a request of my own.
beez_inda_trap oh? This is new.
Plague I need intel on a group named the Black Teeth. Namely, the movements of one Norah Dillons in the group. Pays by the bit.
Plague great. Get their PTY, HQ coordinates and any mentionable persons.
Vector sure. But what exactly do you need it for?
Plague my partners and I are taking them down. Have the info by Sunday, 13:00.
[Plague is offline]
Maverik a little ball of sunshine, that one.
Craig sat on the Tweaks' couch and thrummed his fingers against his knee, only paying a fraction of attention to the TV. It was Friday, and his phone was going off with text messages from Clyde and Token bugging him to hangout, regardless of his 'fuck offs' and rejections.
He was waiting for Tweek. Craig had caught him before he left 'to work at the coffee shop' that morning, informing him that they were, indeed, going out tonight. Tweek had stuttered and tried to make up some excuse that got lost in the rage in Craig's ears. He had clasped his hand over the blonde's mouth and stared until his shaking stopped, saying quietly, "We're going to go out tonight. Come home after work."
A sadistic side of Craig reveled at the crimson pools welling up under his cheekbones and wanted to tug on his messy locks harder, forcing him to hold his stare and watching teeth worry at his lower lip, big brown eyes glazed over with nerves.
Craig paused in his movements and leaned his head back. Was he gay for Tweek Tweak? He had never really found the blonde attractive—he was wiry and pale and jumpy as a goddamn squirrel. But on the other hand, he found Tweek's coffee-laced scent intoxicating, and the noises he made were endearing, if you got used to them, and those eyes, deep and brown with flecks of golden-green floating around in them like fallen leaves in a puddle.
He tried to imagine kissing Tweek, wondering how those chapped, full lips would feel against his. They'd probably be inhumanly hot and quivering, shyly opening when he licked at them. Craig remembered in gym class when he and Tweek had both dove for a save in volley ball; they had ended up colliding with Tweek on top of him, shirt riding up and exposing his back.
Craig remembered touching his exposed skin for a short interval of time as he helped him up, recalling how hot Tweek Tweak had been, like satin under the sun.
Suddenly the scenario in Craig's head shifted to the school locker rooms, where Tweek would always disappear to the stall to dress, out of everyone's view. Craig followed him into the stall and found him half naked, torso bare and gym shorts slipping down narrow his waist and showing off hipbones.
Craig ran his hand up Tweek's chest, which in Craig's head was slim and unmarred and pale, nipples pastel against his skin and shoulders sloping up to his neck in a tantalizing curve.
A sudden spike of actual pleasure brought Craig out of his daydream and he found himself palming his semi-hard erection through his jeans. He sat still, his breath picking up and a snarl overcoming his features as he realized he was getting aroused at imaging his male friend undressing in a locker room.
He'd get all red like he does when I get too close to him. Craig's hand started moving, drawing a groan out of him. And he'd try to hide himself, but I wouldn't let him; I'd force him up against a wall and touch him everywhere. I'd fuck his mouth so good he'd be moaning for more and fuck, I'll give it to him.
Craig unzipped his pants and slipped his hand under the band of his boxers, hissing as his fingers wrapped around his pulsing length. I'd bite him and lick him and jerk him off so good he'll be noisy as fuck. I'd have to keep him quiet. I'd make him get on his knees and put that smart mouth to work. I'd make him look at me as he sucked my dick. Craig cursed and fisted himself harder, rutting against his hand.
Those big dumb eyes would be wet and he'd be so fucking red and shit I can feel that hot mouth on me now. Then, his breathing was labored as he felt his peak approaching, toes curling into the carpet, then I'd flip him around and stick his ass in the air and fucking destroy him. I'll fuck him with my cock so good he won't be able to walk. He'll be screaming my name and I'll make him come on himself so good he'll black out.
Another curse got lost in his throat as he gasped and ground his teeth together as heat erupted between his hands and he swallowed down a moan of Tweek's name. The moments that followed were interesting as he got up and went to wash his hands and run a damp paper towel over his soiled underwear. He found himself swinging between repulsive thoughts about what a horrible human being he was to use Tweek as jerk-off material and thoughts of yes, I am definitely gay for Tweek Tweak. God fuck it.
Craig sighed and fixed a bowl of cereal, going back to the couch to wait for the object of his newfound flaming affections.
"But I have to!"
"No," came the harmonious reply from both Kyle and Sam. Kyle was tapping away relentlessly at his laptop, his tablet sitting on his leg and scraps of paper with strange numbers and codes and names scribbled on them. Sam laid on the loveseat going over a map of the northern Nevada area, circles and X's and pins showing where they've pinpointed Dillons' group and their movements.
I, with not much else to do, had taken a break from my ab workouts to inform them about Craig's insistence on 'going out'.
"Guys," I whined, laying down on my back and staring at the ceiling of Sam's apartment, "he looked really serious about it. I think he's p-pissed about me ditching him."
Kyle looked up from his screen and scowled, the effect less than intimidating on his face as wisps of red hair curled out from his casual ponytail. "I'm sorry, who was the one who decided we were going to take down a multi-faceted drug-pedaling criminal organization on our own time with our own money?"
"Right. So shut up and work."
"I'm not even doing anything! You two don't even need me here!"
From her position on the loveseat Sam piped up. "He's got a point, Kyle. We don't really need him at the moment. And besides, we know there are at least a faction of the Black Teeth in South Park somewhere. Maybe they'll make a move on Craig if Tweek parades him around a bit."
I felt my eye twitch. "You want me to use him as bait?"
"Actually," Kyle said slowly, sharing a look with Sam, "that is not a half bad idea. We've already figured out where Dillons lives and her connections, but we need to know more about the middle men in her operation." He resumed pounding away, bright green eyes glinting off the screen's light. "You should go see that new Leonardo DiCaprio film at 5 in the mall, then take him around the shops and maybe somewhere to eat. If we don't see any movement we'll have you move him somewhere else."
I didn't usually feel angry; most of the time I was anxious, worried, or pumped with detached adrenaline. On rare days I felt a spark or two of happiness in the small things, like a well-made caramel macchiato, or a new book, or when I 'accidently' run into Craig and catch a smell of his shampoo or cologne.
But at this idea my eyebrows furrowed and lip curled up, my hands clenching into fists. "That's not fucking happening, Kyle."
His fingers paused and floated above the keys, an eyebrow raised at my unusual aggression. "…it would actually be helping him, Tweek."
"Helping him? We're already helping him, we don't need to fucking dress him up and put him on a platter for these sons of bitches!" I stood up and stepped over the scattered maps and miscellaneous school work of Sam's floor. "Forget I ever said anything. I'm going to get us lunch."
I stalked out the room and down her stairs, grabbing my jacket and cell phone. I heard hurried steps chase after me.
"Blondie, wait—" Sam practically leapt down a flight of stairs and landed with a flourish, dyed blue hair bobbing and hazel eyes imploring him to listen. "…let me drive you?"
I held my glare but nodded all the same, going out into her garage and getting into the passenger's seat. A moment later Sam got in the driver's seat and started it up, the garage door sliding open and we were off, cruising down the central of North Park.
A heavy silence filled the air. "Tweek—"
"Would you just listen?"
I growled and stared out the window.
"Look, this might actually be the quickest way to get Craig out of this. The sooner we draw these bastards out, the sooner Craig's out of hot water. You want that, don't you?"
"And it's not like we're sending him out there on his own. He'll have you, and you'll have me tailing you, and Kyle will be chewing my ear off every step of the way."
I chuckled and felt my anger reside back to the cavern it had snuck out of.
"Alright, fine. But don't think I'm still one hundred percent on board with this."
She snorted as we pulled into Taco Bell. "Please. I'm betting cash money that you'll have your hands down his pants by the end of the movie." Ignoring my stuttering she asked, "Do you want to borrow my car?"
I was stunned. "You'll give me the Bugatti?"
Sam handed the money to the cashier and gave him a disgusted look. "Um, no? I will lend you the Kia. Jesus, like I'm letting you and your boytoy near a supped-up sports with built in firearms and modifiers up the ass."
"So the Kia has none of that?"
"Hell yeah it does. Just not as much."
I laughed and carried the bags of burritos and tacos inside.
I tugged at the messy, obstinate locks of hair sticking up around my face and took in my image in the mirror. I had on my best-fitting army green tee with the V-neck under a heavier cream colored jacket. I was wearing my straight-legged jeans and a pair of Converse that Kyle had given me as a birthday present two years ago and never wore. Strapped to my chest under my shirt was my .33.
I held a bottle of styler in my hands and ran my thumb over the cool surface, remembering Sam's teasing grin as she threw at my ass on the way out the door. I had never used anything on my hair before, though nobody believes me when I say otherwise, especially when it's humid out.
I popped open the cap and squeezed a little onto my fingers, wrinkling my nose at the smell of perfumed chemical disaster and spreading it over my fingers.
I proceeded to none-too-gracefully spread it out over my hair, flicking my fingers at the end to achieve a spiked appearance.
Oh, God, does this look weird?
I jumped as a rapping sounded on the bathroom door.
"Tweek, what's the hold up? Let's go, already."
Craig chuckled at my squeak and I wrenched open the door, taking in the sight of Craig in a MCR shirt and leather jacket, usual blue hat covering his hair and black pants tucked into his boots.
It was unfair how sexy his casual look was.
Craig cracked a grin at my hair and I grabbed at it in a frenzy. He swatted my hands away. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?"
"Urk, I, I don't know, I just…"
I was getting ridiculously flustered at the whole situation. I was trying way too hard for a friendly night on the town, worrying about my clothes, my hair—Christ, I sounded like a girl about to go on her first date.
My heart bumped up to racehorse speeds when he threaded his long, cool fingers through my hair and over my scalp, moving in small circles. It started off as warm pulses coursing down my skull to calm, relaxing waves that soothed my nerves and steadied my heart rate.
At some point my eyes must have closed because a sudden flick to my nose sent them flying open to find him watching me like an owner watches his cat.
"There. Much better, if I do say so myself."
I looked into the mirror and saw my hair spiked evenly at the front bangs and along the sides. "Uh, th-thanks, Craig. I don't know shit about hair."
Craig hummed and led me to the living room. "Why are you doing shit to your hair, anyway?"
I shrugged and slipped my cellphone and keys into my pockets. "Just to…shake things up, I guess?"
"You're shaky enough, already."
I scowled. "So where did you want go, asshole?"
Craig scratched at his ear. "I dunno. Wherever."
"Um, there's that Chinese place we can eat at?"
Craig nodded. "Nice. I could go for some shitty sushi."
I followed him out and locked the door. "I-I like the shitty chicken better."
"You think that Chinese guy will ever fucking get the hint that he can't say the word 'city' or will we be able to make this joke well into our adulthoods?"
I pulled at a spike of hair. "I-I think he's well past understanding what's so funny about how he talks."
Craig agreed and raised an eyebrow at the Kia. "Since when do you have a car?"
"It's my parents' second car. They said I could use it."
Craig let out an unimpressed "Oh" and got in, sliding the chair back a few inches to make room for his ridiculously long legs. I started the car and backed out, maneuvering over the layer of ice that was almost always present on our roads this time of year.
We drove to the restaurant and ordered our food, muffling the laughter coming from our mouths as we made him repeat our orders over and over to make sure we had it right.
As we ate I noticed that I would occasionally catch him watching me, Craig quickly avoiding my eye none too gracefully. I swallowed my rice thickly and followed it with a drink of soda, wondering if I was imagining the heated looks he was throwing my way.
I decided to test it out.
I managed to maneuver another bunch of rice onto my chopsticks, bring it up to my mouth and succeeding in getting a few piece on my bottom lip. I swallowed the bit in my mouth and looked up at Craig, who returned it with a raised eyebrow. He tapped at his own bottom lip.
I blinked and licked across my lip.
Craig's hand froze for a split second and he stared, mouth pausing in its chewing motion. He quickly looked down and shoved too many noodles into his mouth, refusing to look at me.
Which was good, because I'm pretty sure I was grinning like an idiot.