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By now his drink is essentially all ice. Tweek glares at the empty coffee shop, swirling the ice loudly before taking an even louder, fruitless sip. He doesn’t normally drink his coffee cold, preferring heat that warms his fingers and scalds the roof of his mouth, but Craig will only drink his coffee iced. So even though the temperature outside is on the low end of 40, the inside of the shop hardly much warmer, Tweek keeps sucking ineffectually on his straw, because he misses his boyfriend and the dregs of coffee flavored water that collect at the bottom of the cup taste like the inside of Craig’s mouth.
When Craig wasn’t working he’d sit at one of the tables doing homework and keeping Tweek company, but their shifts had lined up today, leaving Tweek to endure his six hour shift completely alone and bored out of his mind. Tweak Bros did well enough to remain open after all these years, but the only time they ever really got customers was early in the morning. Past noon South Park citizens stuck to the drive-through Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts, which were more convenient and had more to offer. Tweek was saddled with evening shifts to keep up appearances and because his parents got away with paying him half the minimum wage, which he was pretty sure was illegal but lacked the mental fortitude to do anything about. It wasn’t like he was strapped for cash; he and Craig still had a pretty steady income of random donations from the progressive folks around town.
Tweek tosses his cup into the sink and pulls out his phone, scrolling through the notifications on the lock screen. Nothing from Craig (ugh, god, what is he doing, actually working? Take a bathroom break and text your boyfriend, asshole!), a dozen texts in the group chat solidifying the details of tonight’s party, a few alerts from Instagram that he ignores, and finally, a text from Craig’s mother.
Laura: Hi sweetheart, are you still at work?
hiiii laura yes but im off in half an hour, gna meet up with craig and head over
Laura: Could you do me a favor and pick up some canned tomatoes and onions on the way doll, I’m making spaghetti
yes of course!
Laura: Craig’s still got my credit card with him so use that. Thanks honey you’re a lifesaver!
Tweek grins, already untying the neck of his apron with one hand. It had always been clear where Craig had gotten his penchant for pet names from. He half-asses a cleanup, wiping down the already spotless counter and table tops, throwing the stacked cups carelessly into a cabinet. It’s 5:46, and even though Tweak Bros technically closes at 6:00 PM, no one will know or care about him leaving 14 minutes early.
The April weather had been nice for the past few weeks, but a cold snap has the wind biting straight through Tweek’s thin button up and cardigan. Thankfully Whole Foods is just a five minute walk from the shop. Tweek ducks into the warm, flower scented entrance and scans the line of cash registers. Craig is at the far end, facing away from him, mechanically scanning overpriced health food for a woman Tweek vaguely recognizes as someone’s mom. There’s four other people on register but Craig’s line extends back into the store aisles; they may be the most popular couple in town but no one’s immune to a little eye candy. He spots Kenny watering the potted plants and waves.
“What’s up, man? Playing housewife?” Kenny nods toward the shopping basket in the crook of his elbow.
“Ha ha.” Tweek flips him off, force of habit, and Kenny’s grin widens. Tweek can feel his cheeks heat up.
“Want me to tell the old ball and chain you’re here?” his hand moves toward the walkie-talkie clipped to his apron.
“No, I’ll surprise him,” Tweek says, “you going tonight?”
“You know it, baby.”
“See you later then, douchebag.”
He makes a round of the produce section, loading up a few big yellow onions and an orange for him and Craig to snack on. He grabs the canned tomatoes and one of the nasty organic chocolate bars that Tricia inexplicably likes. Craig’s line is still long and he wrinkles his nose, annoyed both because these stupid older women still like to gawk at his boyfriend and because poor Craig is probably stressed out, unable to take a break. The women in front of him pointedly avoid his gaze but a sharp side-eyed glance keeps anyone else from getting in line behind him.
Craig doesn’t notice him until he’s second in line, glancing up with his typical deadpan expression and freezing when their eyes meet. He goes back to scanning almost immediately. To the untrained eye, he’d had no reaction, but Tweek has known this boy all his life. He can see him roll his tongue over his teeth to fight a smile, see the skin at the nape of his neck go lightly pink, see his hands moving just a bit faster. The woman he’s helping asks how his day is going and he doesn’t even bother responding, only gesturing for her to tap her card. Tweek coughs to hide a laugh.
“Hey,” Craig breathes when he steps in front of him, finally cracking that crooked smile Tweek loves so much. It still makes his heart race. He twitches, rubbing a hand over his mouth to try and soften his dopey grin.
“Hey, dude. Busy night?” Craig rolls his eyes. “Gimme Laura’s card.” He sticks his hand out expectantly. Craig fishes his wallet out and slides him his mother’s AmEx.
“Can I see your ID, sir?” he asks facetiously. Tweek sticks his tongue out and taps the card. After he bags up the groceries Craig hands him his car keys. “I’ll be off in half an hour, turn the heater on. You’re shivering.” He grabs Tweek’s sleeve when the blond moves to leave and leans over the counter, giving him a quick peck. They ignore the usual smattering of applause.
Craig’s car, a 1986 Mercury Colony Park that Craig had bought off one of Kenny’s neighbors after he got his license at 16, is a complete mess. The floor of the backseat is coated in a layer of fast food wrappers, Tolkien the only friend considerate enough to take out his own trash. In the very back, stolen couch cushions and piles of blankets make up a slapdash bed, useful for naps during ditched classes and nights at the drive-in, among other activities. There are clothes scattered around the front seat, jackets and sweaters and other layers worn and shed in the temperamental spring weather. Tweek climbs in and locks the doors, digging around for one item in particular.
Craig’s beloved NASA bomber, purchased off eBay by Tweek for their fourth anniversary. It had been a little big on Craig back then but fit him snugly now, though Tweek still swims in it. He tucks his arms through the sleeves and pulls the lapels up to his nose, inhaling deeply. It smells like Craig’s cologne and his skin. He sprawls across the worn leather seats, shutting his eyes without the expectation of sleep, just uninterested in looking at anything that isn’t Craig.
“Babe, open the door.” Tweek jumps, startled out of his daze. He sits up, the t-shirt he’d used to block out the fading sunlight sliding off his head. Craig’s eyebrows are knit together like he’s annoyed, but his mouth is twisted like he’s fighting a smile. Tweek unlocks the door and attaches himself to Craig’s side as soon as he’s sat down.
“Fuck, baby, I told you to turn the heater on,” Craig hisses, fumbling to shove the keys into the ignition and crank the heat. Tweek pulls Craig’s goose-pimpled arm into the warmth of his jacket and kisses his shoulder apologetically. Craig clicks his tongue but bends to kiss the top of Tweek’s head anyway.
The drive to Craig’s house is short enough that Tweek doesn’t get anxious about not having his seatbelt on. The station wagon’s front seats are more or less a bench, and Tweek is feeling clingy and lovesick, so he sits curled halfway into Craig’s lap, who has one hand on the steering wheel and the other clamped between Tweek’s thighs. At a red light he lets Tweek kiss him languidly, smiling into his mouth and waving away a man who tries to offer them a 20 dollar bill at the window while he’s crossing the street.
“Ugh, you’re a star, Tweek,” Laura says when he hands her the groceries.
“You could have asked me to grab that stuff, since I literally work there,” Craig comments blandly.
“You would’ve gotten the wrong onions,” his mother fires back immediately. Tweek snorts, his laughter turning into a shriek when Craig digs his fingers into his ribs.
“Tweek, do you wanna watch a movie with me?” Tricia pats the couch beside her beseechingly. Tweek feels bad when he shakes his head. Tricia’s adoration ebbs and flows now that she’s a teenager, though with graduation drawing closer she’s been extra sweet.
“Get your own boyfriend, loser.” Craig steers him toward the stairs. Tweek manages to slip her the chocolate bar before he’s locked away in Craig’s bedroom and her disappointed frown melts away.
Craig is a napper and flops onto his bed immediately without bothering to take off his shoes or hat. Tweek does it for him, happily. He removes the orange peel in a spiral and drops it into Stripe’s cage, then breaks off a slice and scrapes off as much pith as he can, knowing Craig hates it. Craig opens his mouth for the fruit and thanks him with a long, citrusy kiss. He only eats a few slices before his mouth goes slack, chest moving slowly and body relaxing into the bed. Tweek finishes the rest and settles next to him.
He wonders how much of his life he’s spent watching Craig sleep; hours and hours from the time he was ten years old, lying awake and trembling miserably until Craig rolled over and reached for his hand. He’ll gladly spend more hours–years–watching him. His eyes trace the strong line of Craig’s nose, his jaw lined lightly with stubble, his long, dark lashes, the beauty mark on the curve of his ear. Watching him sleep quiets Tweek’s constantly racing thoughts.
He’s too jittery to nap, still riding off his late coffee and the usual nerves he gets before parties, so he leaves Craig with one final kiss to his cheek and quietly slips out of the room.
Recently he’s been getting emotional every time he makes his way through the Tucker house. Today is no different. He passes by the console table in the hallway and pauses to look at the framed photograph in the center of it, taken on Craig’s fourteenth birthday spent camping in the Rocky’s, Craig with his arm around Tweek’s shoulder, half-grin-half-grimacing at the camera, while Tweek looks at him with adoration. His lip wobbles as he stares at it. He’s spent the past eight years with these people, almost half his entire life, and in four months he would be leaving it behind. A small part of him is still always terrified that Craig will move on to greener pastures, leaving Tweek with nothing to return to.
A large hand pats his shoulder and Tweek almost faceplants into the floor. “Whoa, sorry to startle you, kiddo,” Thomas Tucker chuckles, steadying the boy with practiced ease. “Good to see you. Craig released you from his dungeon for once?”
Tweek’s face burns. “H-he’s taking a nap, Mr. Tucker,” he stutters shyly. He’s not uncomfortable around his boyfriend’s father after eight years, but the man certainly knows how to tease him. He’s heard from others that that’s a parent’s job. If it is, he’s glad that Mr. Tucker took on the role rather than his own father. At least Mr. Tucker means well by it and genuinely cares for Tweek underneath it all.
“Lazy bum,” Mr. Tucker grunts with no fire behind his words.
“He had a long day at work, and baseball practice this afternoon!” Tweek defends vehemently. Mr. Tucker blinks at him and laughs, a slightly nasal sound that is so similar to Craig’s that it makes Tweek grin.
“Craig’s lucky to have you, Tweek,” he chuckles, patting him once more as he makes his way up the hall toward his own room, where Tweek is almost 100% certain he is about to lie down for a pre-dinner nap. Tweek smiles to himself as he continues downstairs; Craig is a lot more like his father than he likes to think.
He’d intended to help Laura with dinner, but Tricia yanks him down onto the couch to join in her Adventure Time binge. Tricia is just as cuddly as her brother, snuggling up to Tweek without hesitation. Tweek braids locks of her long auburn hair absentmindedly, his attention flickering from the TV to the Tik Toks she’s simultaneously watching on her phone, held between them so Tweek can see too.
“Dinner’s ready, Tricia come set the–where’s your father run off to?” Laura huffs, frowning at the two of them on the couch. Tricia doesn’t look up from her phone, shrugging and pointing upstairs. Laura rolls her eyes. “Tricia go sit down. Tweek could you get Craig up, honey?”
Tweek trails behind Mrs. Tucker up the stairs. He flushes slightly as they both enter the separate bedrooms at the same time, struck by the mirror image of them going to wake their sleeping loves, as if Craig is his husband. The other boy is still sleeping soundly, a glimmer of drool at the corner of his lips. Tweek sits on the edge of the bed and traces his trembling fingers across the planes of Craig’s face to wake him gently.
Craig wrinkles his nose and grunts, his eyes bleary when he squints them open. “Five minutes,” he groans, catching Tweek’s fingers and pressing the hand to his face.
“If we wait that long Tricia will eat all the meatballs,” Tweek warns. Craig slides out of bed begrudgingly, giving Tweek’s ass a grateful squeeze when the blond adjusts his sleep-rumpled clothes and fixes his hat over his hair.
Craig prepares both of their plates, Tweek’s made with the plant based meatless balls that Laura prepares just for him. Tweek is content to listen to their idle chatter as he eats, his ankles hooked with Craig’s beneath the table. Every time Tweek catches his eye, Craig’s face shifts into a handsome grin that leaves him blushing down at his plate, his skin buzzing like they’re on their first date again, with Tweek too shy to hold eye contact.
The sky outside is deep blue by the time Tweek is getting ready for the party, accentuated by the soft yellow tint of the lamps in Craig’s room. Craig doesn’t care to dress up for parties, content to remain in the baggy sweats and threadbare South Park Cows jersey he’d thrown on after practice. Tweek thinks he’d look good in a potato sack and has no complaints. He digs through Craig’s dresser, which is by now almost entirely full of Tweek’s clothes, and picks out a slightly nicer outfit.
“Do you think the blue looks better, or this red one?” Tweek asks, holding up the shirts for Craig to inspect. Craig is sprawled on the bed again, Stripe moving in lazy circles on his chest. He glances over and runs his eyes up and down Tweek’s body, making the blond shiver.
“I think you’d look better with nothing on,” he says flatly. Tweek rolls his eyes and puts the red top away.
“I’m not showing up to Tolkien’s topless.”
“You did it all the time as a kid.”
Tweek laughs, remembering swathes of dark mud across his skin, scampering unsupervised around town with scraped knees and missing teeth, Craig in his cape, always chasing after him. He walks over to the edge of the bed, the shirt hanging open over his shoulders. Craig deposits Stripe gently on his pillow and sits up with Tweek between his knees, buttoning the shirt for him.
“Do we really have to go to this party?”
“Yes,” Tweek insists, his hands on Craig’s shoulders as the other boy pulls him close and starts kissing his neck, “these are our last few months in South Park!”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Craig snorts. His hands slide low on Tweek’s back, pulling him closer until their hips are pressed together. Tweek whines but doesn’t stop Craig from sucking a mark near the nape of his neck.
“Once we’re in college we’ll probably never b-be all together like this again…”
Craig licks into his mouth, using a clenched fist of Tweek’s hair to maneuver his head how he wants it. Tweek’s resolve is quickly slipping. It’s not like he enjoys parties anyway, always getting anxious after a few hours and making them leave early, but he wants to spend more time with their friends while they still can. If only Craig would just let go of his waist, he could–
“Quit it!” he growls, twisting out of Craig’s arms. Craig grins at him, his face pleasantly pink. Tweek tosses his old shirt at his face and stops away to the bathroom to finish getting ready in relative peace.
In the car Tweek connects his phone to the aux, a rickety setup that Heidi and Kyle had helped Craig rig into the outdated stereo system, and shuffles his monthly playlist. It’s still cold out but Tweek’s got Craig’s jacket on so he lowers his window and lets the air rush over his face. It’s a little after ten pm and the streets are all deserted. Tweek watches the old familiar landscape pass by, humming along to the music.
“Dude, your monthly is, like, all Radiohead,” Craig complains, skipping a track from Kid A only to end up on one from OK Computer. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” Tweek says, smiling over at him with his temple resting against the open window, night air twirling his messy hair into an even bigger tangle that Craig will have to untwist later. “I guess I’m feeling…melancholic.”
Craig eyes him, his mouth twisting with amusement. Tweek’s grin widens and he shrieks when Craig’s hand shifts from his thigh to his ticklish ribs. “You don’t look very melancholic to me.”
“I am. I’m festering with malaise,” Tweek intones, going limper in the seat. Craig laughs. Tweek grabs his hand and kisses it.
“Well can you put your k-pop playlist on? Thom is seriously killing my vibe.”
Tweek snickers, grabbing his phone from the cup holder and fiddling with his spotify account. “Any requests?”
“Girl Front.” Craig is surprisingly good at singing along in Korean, though he still quiets down so Tweek can take the higher notes.
Craig has to park pretty far down the road, the street already packed with their classmates' cars. They walk up hand in hand, greeting the stragglers in the front yard smoking.
“Mr. and Mr. Tucker have arrived,” Kenny shouts into the crowd when he spots them in the front door. Tweek flushes and Craig flips him off.
“You cool if I go smoke?” Craig asks, leaning close to shield Tweek from the group of drunken teenagers tumbling through the door.
A few years ago Tweek would have lost it at the mere thought of Craig separating from him at a party this big, but a combination of therapy, medication, and Craig’s support have mellowed him out enough that he just smiles. “Go have fun,” he says, tilting his head up for a kiss. Kenny whoops and whistles an out of tune rendition of the wedding march.
“Quit teasin’ ‘em, Ken,” Butters scolds, smacking the taller boy's arm.
“What’s nn -up with you, man? Marriage on your mind?” Tweek laughs at Kenny folding his hands under his chin and batting his eyelashes.
“You could say that,” he winks. Butters shoos him away and he skips off, probably to go smoke with Craig.
“Are you two gonna elope or something?” Tweek nudges Butters in the ribs. Butters laughs good-naturedly and shakes his head.
“Oh, you know Kenny, he’s just a romantic guy,” he says, somewhat cryptically.
Tweek sticks with Butters, the two of them heading to Tolkien’s enormous living room to stake a claim on one of the couches. Familiar faces filter through; Clyde weepily trailing after Bebe, Stan and Kyle loudly arguing about something, Cartman skulking around with some intention that Tweek doesn’t care to inquire about.
Logically, Tweek knows that after high school he will almost certainly still see these people with some regularity. Some of them are going to CU Denver with him and Craig, others he’ll see over summer breaks or on holidays for potentially the rest of their lives. Still, going from seeing someone every day at school for eighteen years to seeing them once or twice a year is a pretty big transition, and even though Tweek hasn’t always had the best time in South Park, he still feels strangely sad that this period of his life is ending. Perhaps he is listening to too much Radiohead.
“Scoot, baby.” Tweek hadn’t realized that Craig had made his way over to the couch and was motioning to sit down. He moves far enough for Craig to wedge himself into the corner and climbs halfway into his lap, snuggling down into the crook of his neck and shutting his eyes. He doesn’t really smell like weed or cigarettes, just like the orange scented body wash that Tweek always makes him buy.
Craig is talking to Kenny and Butters for a while but Tweek doesn’t pay much attention. He drifts off to the vibrations from Craig’s chest and the feeling of his fingers twisting through the hair at the nape of his neck.
After a while he feels Craig’s hand brush the hair up off his forehead, pushing his face back enough for their eyes to meet. He looks fond and amused and sooooo handsome.
“You ready to go?”
Tweek shrugs, pressing forward as much as he can with Craig’s palm still on his head and pursing his lips, winding his arms around Craig’s neck. Craig relents, carding his hand through Tweek’s wild curls and drawing him into a languid kiss. Tweek doesn’t particularly care that they’re literally surrounded by people and shivers, throwing his leg over Craig’s lap and trying to get even closer.
“Alright, honey, I think it’s time to head home,” Craig laughs once he pulls away for breath. Tweek just hums, his lips moving down Craig’s jaw to his neck. He feels dizzy with desire, spurred on by the sense that a door is closing on him. He and Craig will be together after high school, but what if the strange magic of South Park is the glue that has kept them together so long? If things are going to change, he wants to enjoy what he has now as long as he still can.
Craig has good party etiquette. He pulls Tweek through the crowd to find Tolkien and say goodbye. He and Jimmy are babysitting Clyde, who is surely blacked out by now, slumped over the beer pong table and shouting at anyone who passes by.
“Hey, we’re done. Call tomorrow if you need help cleaning up,” Craig says, giving Tolkien a one armed hug since Tweek is still clinging to his other arm.
“I’ve already got cleaners scheduled, dude,” Tolkien laughs. He knows Tweek well enough to see he’s not in a hugging mood and fist bumps him instead. Tweek’s heart aches with affection for his friend. Tolkien will be going out of state for school so holidays will likely be the only times they see him after the summer ends.
“If it’s w-w-warm enough we should sw-swi-swi- t-take a dip in the pool tomorrow,” Jimmy suggests. Tweek grins at him behind Craig’s shoulder and nods. Jimmy will be at CU Denver with them, thankfully. Clyde cries out, finally noticing the couple, and struggles to sit up.
“You guys’re leaving? Whadafuck dude,” he slurs, “s’last party of the- ever. School.”
“I guarantee you there will be more parties, Clyde,” Tolkien interjects and gets waved off.
“M’never gonna s-see you guys again!” He starts bawling, reaching out to grab Craig’s arm and missing by about three feet, nearly face planting into the floor without Tolkien grabbing the back of his jacket.
“Clyde you’re going to be in our lives literally forever,” Craig deadpans, sounding less than thrilled about the statement. Clyde blinks owlishly, frozen while Tolkien tries to get him back on his feet, snot dripping comically down his lip.
“You mean it?”
“Definitely, Clyde,” Tweek pipes up, “we’re gonna name our first kid after you.”
Clyde wails. He soaks Tolkien’s shirt with snot and tears, his sentences now completely incoherent. Tolkien exchanges middle fingers with both Tweek and Craig as they depart the scene of the crime, giggling.
Craig doesn’t take the usual exit toward his street, driving farther north. Tweek doesn’t question it. He sits with his head on Craig’s shoulder, his arm bent behind the seat so he can run his fingers through Craig’s hair as he drives. The other boy could take him to the garbage dump and Tweek would have a nice time.
They end up at Stark’s Pond. It’s usually pretty packed with lovers on a Friday night, but everyone’s down at Tolkien’s so the place is peaceful and empty. Craig eases the station wagon up onto the dirt road that gets closer to the water and parks in an inlet of trees.
Out here the stars are even more dazzling, the milky way a painted stroke of blue across the entire sky. Craig grabs two blankets, one to place on the hood of the car and the other to wrap Tweek in, and they sit with their backs against the windshield, breath billowing out in steamy plumes.
“The stars won’t be like this in Denver,” Craig says. Tweek watches his eyes dart across the pinpricks of light, cataloging the constellations.
“It’ll be weird…”
Craig shrugs. He glances down at Tweek and winks at him. Tweek blushes like they’re thirteen again and fumbling through first kisses. “Stark’s won’t be too long of a drive.”
“Are we gonna be driving up here to make out when we’re fifty?” Tweek teases. Craig nips at his nose and soothes it with a kiss. He looks thoughtful when he pulls back.
“Do you want to stay in Colorado?”
“What do you mean?” Tweek asks.
“Like, in the future. After college. Or later. When we’re fifty.”
A thrill runs up Tweek’s spine. Craig’s vision of himself at fifty years old includes Tweek. He bites his lip to stifle his grin.
“It’d be nice to be somewhere warmer,” Tweek muses. He’d never really considered living anywhere but South Park until they’d started senior year and began looking at colleges. CU Denver had been the best choice for them, but after college they could go anywhere.
“I’ll get you a mansion in Beverly Hills,” Craig promises solemnly. Tweek snorts.
“I’ll live under a bridge as long as it’s with you,” he says. Craig goes still. Tweek worries that he’s come on too strong. They’ve been saying I love you for years, but sometimes he feels like he loves Craig too much, so much more than Craig loves him. He’d meant what he said; a tent under a bridge would feel like a mansion if Craig were beside him. But Craig is so…spectacular. He’s got so much ahead of him, an astrophysics degree in the near future and endless possibilities beyond that. Tweek’s not stupid, but he’s got so many other things wrong with him that surely at some point he’ll end up holding Craig back.
Tweek feels his breathing pick up, his fingers digging into the quilted fabric of the blanket on his shoulders. Craig sits up suddenly and Tweek shrieks, the sound echoing across the still waters of Stark’s Pond.
“We should dance.”
“Dance?!” Craig must have smoked after all. Never in a thousand years would Tweek have guessed that Craig would suggest dancing. They’ve only attended one school dance in the past four years and spent the entire time playing footsie under the table. Tweek doesn’t think he’s ever seen Craig even move rhythmically.
Craig looks at him with no hint of teasing on his stoic face. “Yes. I want to dance. Put a song on, no mopey shit.”
Tweek nearly drops his phone twice trying to pick out a song. The situation feels too tenuous for Tweek to whine about the pressure, the risk of Craig calling it all off too great. His thumbs are sweaty as he scrolls frantically through his library. This is potentially the only time he will ever get to dance with Craig!
Tweek takes a deep breath and presses play. The opening notes spill out into the air, blasting through the car speakers. Craig recognizes the song and a grin spreads across his face. He’s standing in the low glow of the headlights, looking at Tweek. He’s so handsome that Tweek loses his breath, fidgeting beside the door. Craig holds his hand out, grins wider, and Tweek reaches to take it, his heart stuttering in his chest.
The first few seconds are awkward, the both of them moving stiffly out of time with the music, but then Craig laughs and lifts Tweek’s arm for a sloppy twirl and the tension drains out of them. Craig holds Tweek’s waist with one arm and holds the other lifted in the air as they move in big circles across the frosted grass. “ I want real love baby, ooh don’t leave me waiting ,” Craig croons in his ear, kissing his pink cheeks when Tweek laughs and laughs, so bright that it puts more stars in the sky.
Their routine is a mess of different styles. Craig goes from spinning Tweek around ballroom style to throwing him around in a bastardized salsa. They attempt to do the Charleston until Tweek slips and almost falls flat on his ass. They’re both laughing so hard that they almost can’t hear the music, trying to kiss but unable to purse their lips over the huge grins on their faces.
By the end they’re pressed chest to chest, Tweek’s arms looped around Craig’s neck while Craig hugs his waist, swaying gently as the song fades out. Craig squeezes him, his lips against the nape of his neck, and Tweek’s skin buzzes with the overwhelming, dizzying sensation of love. He stills his feet and pushes Craig far enough backward to meet his eyes.
“Craig,” Tweek says, deadly serious, his hands clutching the lapels of Craig’s coat, “I really, really like you.”
Craig squawks a strangled laugh. “Yeah? I thought you loved me, dude.” He’s blushing, his face a mixture of confusion and amusement.
“I do! I love you and I also like you. I like you so much . It feels like I’m gonna die from how much I like you, Craig.”
Craig’s mouth hangs open. Tweek tries to hide his face in Craig’s chest, embarrassed, but Craig stops him by pressing their foreheads together. He stares into Tweek’s face for a long second, the steam of his breath tickling Tweek’s skin. “I like you so much. I like you more than anyone in the world.”
“Ah,” Tweek shudders, closing his eyes. “That’s good.”
Craig’s hands, low on his back, move lower. “Do you wanna move this somewhere more private?”
“Do you mean the back of your station wagon?” Craig hoists him over his shoulder, not waiting for an answer.
Tweek can say with absolute certainty that the back of Craig’s station wagon has seen more action than all of the marital beds in South Park. He’ll never let Craig sell the thing, not out of nostalgia for the moments shared there, but because the thought of some family driving around where he and Craig have done unspeakable things gives him panic attacks.
That doesn’t stop him from continuing their salacious activities. He pushes Craig down into the nest of cushions and blankets, sitting astride his bony hips. Craig watches him rapturously as Tweek hurries to shed his clothing, providing no help but running his hands over any newly bared skin.
“Take your own clothes off,” Tweek grumbles as he digs around in the nooks and crannies for the wayward bottle of lube stored back there somewhere. They’d managed to get a quickie in that morning when everyone was still asleep, so Tweek doesn’t bother with prep. He sinks down slowly on Craig’s cock, squeezing Craig’s hands tight as he adjusts to the familiar stretch.
“Jesus, babe, you feel so fucking good,” Craig groans, his eyelids fluttering when Tweek starts to rock in his lap. Tweek whimpers, bouncing as best he can. He feels overfull, Craig’s dick huge and throbbing inside him and his love filling his heart to bursting.
Craig can sense he’s starting to get overwhelmed. He sits up, crossing his legs behind Tweek and holding him close. “Slow baby, let’s go slow, yeah,” he says gently, “fuck, just like that, you’re so good.” Tweek hangs onto his shoulders, his pleasured whines going right into Craig’s ear. Craig grips his ass so hard that he leaves fingernail indents in the plump skin, moving him up and down.
Tweek thanks god that they left the music playing, drowning out their loud fucking. Without it, Tweek thinks the noise might have echoed all the way down the mountain into town. The old car creaks loudly through their movement, gravel scraping beneath the minutely shifting wheels.
“Craig, you’re gonna make me cum,” Tweek cries. He grips a fistful of Craig’s hair and presses their mouths together. Craig holds him still when he cums, offering him no relief from the intensity of their orgasms, soothing him with gentle kisses while he catches his breath.
Tweek flops down into their makeshift bedding, Craig adjusting him so that he doesn’t get a muscle cramp before laying down beside him. The windows are fogged up and the air inside the car is humid with the smell of sweat and sex. After a minute, he rolls onto Craig’s chest and rests his ear over the steady beat of his heart.
His fucked-out daze can’t last forever. Craig is quiet, maybe dozing, and Tweek’s mind starts to wander. When they’ve got their own place they won’t need to fuck in the car anymore. They can have sex anywhere, anytime. The freedom is almost daunting, but Tweek is more excited than nervous. He’s got a running list of things he wants to try once they’re guaranteed privacy which he’s sure will last them at least through freshman year.
Craig’s hand worms out from beneath the blankets and rubs against his sweaty back.
“You know something, Tweek?”
Not asleep, then. Tweek hums, too comfortable to lift his head from Craig’s chest. Craig trails his fingers down his spine, tracing invisible patterns into his skin.
“On the day that you were born…”
Tweek tilts his head up curiously, confused by the other boy’s line of thought.
“The angels got together…” Craig’s flat monotone shifts into a melody that Tweek now recognizes. He groans, covering his eyes with his hands, but not hiding the huge grin that’s splitting his face. “And decided to create a dream come truuuuue–”
“Craig stooooop ,” Tweek giggles. Craig rolls on top of him, bracketing him in with strong arms and legs.
“So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold,” Craig croons, leaning down until Tweek can feel the warmth of his breath against his lips. He lowers his fingers and meets Craig’s lovestruck gaze. “And starlight in your eyes of blue…”
Tweek puckers his lips and Craig kisses him once, twice, then across the bridge of his nose, over his cheek, down the side of his neck. He lets his body go limp and closes his eyes, his heart still thundering in his chest as Craig mouths at his skin and rubs big warm hands down his sides.
“Hey, babe,” the man mumbles, “let’s get married.”
Tweek’s eyes wrench open. He goes still, the stiffening of his limbs making Craig freeze above him, though he doesn’t move his face from its spot in the crook of Tweek’s shoulder.
“Craig, are you proposing to me?” Tweek asks slowly, like he’s trying to corner a skittish animal. His mind has gone blank, only Craig’s words echoing over and over; married married married.
“Yeah. Um, yes.”
Tweek sits up, keeping Craig down with a hand to his shoulder. He squints at the other boy. Craig’s face is flushed, hair sticking to his temples with sweat. His eyes dart nervously from Tweek’s face to the windows and back. “Craig.”
“Yep?”
“Are. You. Proposing. To. Me.”
Craig blanches. He licks his lips, opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his fingertips over them. Tweek’s hands shake. Finally, he sits up as well, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air. “Hang on, uh, close your eyes for a sec,” he says frantically.
“Craig-”
“Dude, ugh.” He covers Tweek’s eyes for him with a large palm, undeterred by Tweek clawing at him like an angry cat. Tweek hears him shuffling around, feels the car lurch as he moves across the backseat and mumbles curses under his breath.
“Craig, I’m gonna kick your ass! What is your pro–”
Craig’s hand falls away. Tweek blinks and sees a small, red velvet box in Craig’s trembling palm. He feels his limbs go numb, staring in shock. Craig clears his throat, moving to take Tweek’s equally shaky hand. He looks at Tweek bashfully beneath his lashes, his cheeks charmingly pink.
“Will you marry me, Tweek? Please?” Inside the box is a silver ring, simple and unobtrusive.
Tweek can’t speak. He tries, but the words won’t come out. He covers his mouth and stares at Craig until the man’s ears go red.
“It’s okay to say no, no pressure,” Craig jokes flatly.
“Craig, of course I’ll marry you,” Tweek finally whispers. Craig looks stupidly shocked, as if Tweek would ever give any other answer than a resounding, absolute, enthusiastic yes.
“Really?”
“Y-Yes! Yes, you idiot! Craig! What the fuck?!” He starts laughing and can’t stop. “God, you’re proposing to me while I’ve got cum leaking out of me, naked in the back of a car, and the answer is yes, dude. Like, n-no shit!”
Craig deflates, a stupid grin on his face as he starts laughing too. It feels insane. Tweek’s still four months shy of eighteen, he hasn’t even decided on a major yet, but there’s nothing he wants to do more than marry this boy he’s known his entire life.
“Alright, quit squirming let me put this on you,” Craig grips his left hand steady and slides the ring on. It feels oddly heavy, cold against his feverish skin. Tweek marvels at it, holding his hand out at different angles to see how it looks while Craig watches him.
“I love it.”
“Yeah, check this out.” Craig takes Tweek’s right hand and places their fingers on the silver band. Then, Craig slides Tweek’s pointer finger across, and the metal moves smoothly. “It’s a fidget ring, so you can spin this outer part.”
Tweek wraps his arms around Craig’s shoulders and squeezes tight. “I love you so much, Craig.”
“I love you too.”
All previous lethargy has gone out the window. Tweek sits up properly, naked as the day he was born, and starts fidgeting with his ring. “We have to wait till I’m eighteen I think, but then school will be starting, so like, maybe right after my birthday? When does Tolkien leave for Virginia? Oh, we’ll have to have it in Denver, I wonder if everyone will need to book hotels…I don’t want to inconvenience anyone! I don’t know if any place here will be big enough though. Ah! Let’s say like, August 20th? What do you think?”
“We can do that,” Craig agrees calmly. He’s leaning on his palm, gazing at Tweek with moon eyes and being generally unhelpful. Tweek wrinkles his nose and glares at him.
“This is a lot of pressure, Craig!”
“Let’s just elope at the courthouse,” Craig shrugs.
Tweek considers it, but shakes his head. “Clyde will literally die of a broken heart if he doesn’t get to go to our wedding.”
“Hm. That’s true.” Craig lies back down and huffs, as if he’d been doing all the hard thinking. Tweek can’t stay annoyed with him though, and sprawls back across his chest, the silver of his ring glinting in the moonlight.
“Did Kenny know?”
“Huh?”
“About you proposing? He was making marriage jokes all day.”
Craig laughs awkwardly. “I was nervous so I was kind of telling him about it…”
“Dork,” Tweek teases, kissing his sternum. Craig tugs lightly at a lock of his hair but doesn’t argue with him. “God, what are we gonna say when people ask about the proposal? Jesus, Craig! Didn’t you think about that?!”
Craig snorts. “Nope. It’s whatever. Just lie, you’re good at acting.”
Tweek groans, still unable to stop smiling. “So I just lie, all the time, to everybody?”
“Not everybody,” Craig reasons, “we can tell some people the truth. Our kids, maybe?”
Tweek's head spins. Our kids. “We are not telling our kids about this, you dumbass.”
“Ah, well,” Craig sighs, kissing his fingers, “whatever you think is best, honey.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tweek huffs. It’s getting late. They should probably head back to Craig’s house before the drunks start driving off from Tolkien’s and clogging up the streets. Tweek will have to think up a good proposal story quickly by morning, because he doesn’t plan on taking his ring off, ever.
“Should we invite PC Principal?”
“No.” Craig glances down at him and seems shocked to see Tweek pouting. “Babe, are you serious?”
“Aw, he’s not bad. He’d be really happy for us! And I bet he’d give us a lot of money…”