Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mid-November was late for the first snowfall in Denver. Craig couldn't say he had an opinion on snow one way or the other, but Tweek was pretty nerved up when he looked out the window that morning. His fingers trembled to some unknown tune, worrying the hem of his shirt, pulling at his hair. Craig laid his hands over Tweek's and felt them flutter one last time before relaxing under his palms.

"I'll clear off the car. See you in a few."

Tweek smiled down at their hands in response. His keys were on the kitchen table, and Craig scooped them up on his way out, slipping his index finger through the keyring. He waited until the door shut behind him to start spinning the keys on his finger; Tweek was always sure in the momentum he was going to lose them and send the keys flying out into some irretrievable place. 

The walkway to the parking lot behind their apartment building was shoveled already, but the frosty bricks came to a conspicuous stop once Craig reached the edge of the building. His boot sunk into six inches of snow and crunched. Craig pursed his lips.

He unlocked Tweek's beat-up old car and slid into the driver's seat to rev up the engine and get the heat going. Craig had taken his driver's test twice and failed twice, then relied on Clyde's driving his parents' minivan to get anywhere up until college. The city was great. There were buses and subway stations everywhere, unlike in the suburbs. And you could save yourself the fare and trouble just by walking. Ideal.

The snow brush was in the trunk. Craig got right to work pushing snow off the windows and roof, flipping the brush over and scraping at a few instances of ice collecting in the windows' corners. It was the light, fluffy stuff, which was good. Any rain mix, and it would end up being that slushy crap whose density broke shoveling backs. The wind whipped at Craig's face while he worked, slipping through the worn crocheted holes of his chullo hat, biting his cheeks and nose pink, and chapping his thin lips. His gloved hands stayed warm.

It had been a few weeks since he and Tweek had that talk in the kitchen. Craig didn't like to think about it. Except the part when Tweek curled up against him and helped him sort his pictures. That was nice. Since then, there had been moments between them, hands brushing against each other, huddling together to watch movies on one of their laptops. Little touches that made Craig feel whole in a way he would never admit to out loud. Though he came pretty close the other night when Tweek cradled Stripe in the crook of one arm like a baby and fed him a carrot like a bottle.

The night before, Tweek's fingertips had ghosted over the markings on his arm. Craig wore hoodies all the way through summer so he didn't have to look at them, but now that they were closer to one another all the time, he'd noticed Tweek picking at his sleeves and peeking at his wrists.

"What're you doing?" Craig mumbled amidst the static shock tufts of Tweek's hair.

"Geh...! I like your tattoos."

Craig relaxed his arms under Tweek's curious hands. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as Tweek pushed his sleeves up to get a better look at the markings. Everybody called them tattoos, so Craig went with it, but he was convinced he'd been born with them. He couldn't remember a time when those markings hadn't glared up at him from his arms. Tweek pulled Craig's arm up towards his face, wide eyes bright, lips parted slightly as he examined them.

"What made you get them?" Tweek asked. "Are they significant to you?"

Craig made a noncommittal sound.

"Do you just like getting tattoos?" Tweek asked, voice smaller. Craig tensed. He didn't like talking about his past much, but he could feel Tweek pulling back from him and didn't want that, either. Craig unzipped his hoodie and pulled the collar of his tee shirt down. Tweek squawked in alarm, but the curiosity came back when he realized what Craig was showing him: a little tattoo under his collarbone. A coffeepot full of stars. Breath whistling past his teeth, Tweek reached out and traced the image gingerly. "When did you get this?"

"A few months ago. I like this one."

Tweek's eyes flickered up, hazel threaded with gold. "You don't like the others?"

"I like this one best," Craig said.

Tweek looked down again, but he was smiling.

As opposed to now. When Craig was putting the snow brush back into the trunk, he caught sight of Tweek making his way down the shoveled walkway with two travel mugs in his hands. Tweek's frown deepened when he reached the end of the path. Craig hurt him grunt in annoyance as he stepped over into the snow towards his car. As soon as Tweek was near him, Craig reached out for the mugs and rounded the car to slide into the passenger's seat. Tweek dropped into the driver's seat and waited for Craig to put their mugs in the cup holders. Once Craig settled back into his seat, he waited for Tweek to shift into reverse. He made no movement towards shifting the gear.

"Iwantittoo," Tweek said, a faint tremor running through him. Craig glanced over.

"Want what?"

"That coffeepot full of stars," Tweek said, staring straight ahead through the windshield. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel and wrapped around ten and two. "That's...that's us, right? I want it, too."

Realization dawned slowly. "You want a tattoo?" Tweek wouldn't even get a flu shot.

Tweek's knuckles whitened. "Yes," he croaked. "I want that tattoo."

Chapter Text

After years of spending time with Craig, Tweek had gotten used to his sudden upswing in mood whenever his guinea pig Stripe came up in conversation. One minute he was stoic and silent, the next showing you dozens of pictures he took with his high-end camera. 

He was reminded of that now as Kyle showed him picture after picture of Kenny on his phone.

Following the uproar that went down at Ruby's fashion show, Mysterion had disappeared from the public eye. Sort of. You could still catch him on Tuesday afternoons at 4:30 at a local library branch, fighting his nemesis Professor Chaos. In other words, Kenny and Butters were volunteer play-actors, and Kyle would not stop talking about it.

"It's the sweetest thing," Kyle gushed, swiping the screen of his smartphone to move to the next image. Butters was perfect for a play-actor, goofy and over-the-top in his performance, making wild arm movements and expressions in every picture. Kenny was trying too hard to look like he was trying too hard; there was always a distinct line of his body, like if Butters actually came at him, Kenny would flip him without breaking a sweat. He'd also upgraded—downgraded?—to a new costume that looked like a knockoff, plastic mask and everything. Tweek wondered if he were being too critical just because he'd seen the real Mysterion, the serious Kenny, in action. "Some of the kids even asked for Kenny's autograph. Little do they know he's the real thing!"

"That's nice, Kyle," Tweek said, leaning back towards his own desk. Kyle hummed in agreement and swiped to the next picture, the first in at least seven that looked different. Instead of Kenny and Butters pretend-dueling with a bunch of pre-schoolers cheering at their feet, it was a truly saccharine selfie of Kenny in costume and Kyle bundled up in an oversized sweatshirt that had to be his boyfriend's. Kenny, with a megawatt smile that would fit in at Times Square, was holding the phone out for the picture with one arm and had the other around Kyle's shoulders, hugging him close while Kyle laughed. Kyle sputtered and swiped back to the previous picture. He retracted his phone with a weak chuckle.

"It was Butters' idea to do the show. The first couple have gone pretty well. It's actually kind of a brilliant way to diffuse interest in Mysterion...turning him into a kiddie show." Kyle sighed and tapped his pen against his bottom lip, leaning back into his own personal space.

Tweek supposed he was right. It was like Denver was creating its own little urban legend, some folktale kind of hero who fought the monsters under your bed.

Clyde returned from the copy room with an armful of paperwork. "Did you guys miss me while I was gone?"

"Terribly," Craig droned.

"Did I miss any good conversation?" Clyde dropped the stack on his desktop and lost the top few sheets, which fluttered off the pile and onto the floor. He retrieved them without missing a beat.

"Kyle was showing us some pictures from Kenny's latest show," Token said.

Clyde groaned, rolling his eyes. "Again with the forced slideshow, dude? We've seen your pics, like, a million times!"

"I'm just proud of him," Kyle said, flushing.

"We knoooow," Clyde drawled. "'Guys, here, look at these pictures of my tall superhero boyfriend volunteering with children.' We get it, Kyle. Mazel tov."

"Clyde!" Tweek squeaked through his teeth. "You can't say mazeltovtoKyle, geh, what if P.C. hears you and thinks you're...appropriatinghisculture, or whatever? Ngh!"

The bullpen fell silent, all of them looking over their shoulders. When P.C. Principal, the Rocky Mountain Reporter's Op-Ed person, didn't round the corner after thirty seconds, they breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"I-I didn't mean I was proud of him like that," Kyle mumbled.

"We know, Kyle," Token said. "Literally feel free to ignore most of what Clyde says." Clyde shrugged modestly.

The day passed pretty quickly. Craig uploaded new pictures for that week's features and leaned over Tweek's shoulder to watch as Tweek organized them into the layout. There were no wacky stories this week, no vigilantes or explosions or fires. What a relief. Tweek heaved a sigh as the new issue came together on his desktop.

In no time at all, they were pulling out of the parking lot behind the office building and heading home. Tweek went over a mental checklist of the food they had in the apartment and what was available for dinner. The snow had finally stopped, so the city had been able to get on top of clearing the roads. Stopping at the grocery store wouldn't take any time. He asked Craig if that sounded okay and got a slow nod of agreement.

"Okay, help me remember," Tweek said, keeping an eye on traffic. "We need cheese from the deli, bread, um...spinach...kale...Do you think we need spinach and kale?"

"I don't see why we need either," Craig said without inflection.

"Because they're good for you!" Tweek drummed his fingers on the wheel. "Kyle gave me a, geh, recipe for some sort of turnover with spinach and kale in it, but aren't they both leaves? Ngh..."

Craig laughed through his nose in agreement, though the sound stopped short. Tweek was about to ask what was wrong when he heard music coming from outside the window. As they slowed for a red light, Tweek saw one of those Peruvian flute bands that had been popping up around Denver. 

"They're nice, aren't they?" he said, tilting his head.

"Nice?" Craig echoed. When Tweek looked over, Craig's impassive face had shifted into agitation, the fingers of one hand tracing invisible lines on the opposite forearm. Tweek blinked.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "The flute bands. They're kind of soothing, don't you think?"

Craig pursed his lips. The light turned green, and they passed the band. Once the flutes faded into the distance, Craig relaxed a little.

"You don't like them?" Tweek asked. Craig hummed noncommittally. "I think there's another one that performs at the grocery store we're going to."

Craig's head snapped up in his direction when he said that. "Can we skip the store?" he asked. Tweek's hands slipped on the wheel a little bit. Urgency threaded through Craig's words, and Craig didn't get worked up very often.

"O...okay," Tweek said. "But I'm not sure what we have for dinner."

"We can order something," Craig said. His voice was distant, like it was coming through to Tweek on one of those kiddie makeshift telephones, the two cups attached with a string. "Chinese?"

"Sure." Tweek checked his blind spots and threw on his signal. "Sorry to drag you out allthiswayngh..."

"No, no, I just..." Craig hesitated. "You know, my tattoo parlor is near here, if you want to stop. We're in the neighborhood."

Oh, right. Tweek had almost forgotten that he said he wanted a tattoo. He must have been out of his mind. Sticking himself with all those needles, injecting all that ink. Even though it had given him a little glow to see the coffeepot under Craig's collarbone. All the little stars...it was a sweet tattoo, soft in a way most people wouldn't think Craig could be. To be honest, Tweek forgot Craig could be soft most of the time, too.

"I don't know if I want to get it today," he said. Then, in case Craig thought (knew?) he was waffling, he added, "But we can check it out, sure."

Craig gave him directions, and a few blocks away, Tweek pulled into a parking space in front of a, frankly, scary-looking piercing and tattoo parlor. They were in a fairly nice neighborhood, so the bricks painted black really stood out on the street. Tweek pulled Craig's spare jacket tighter around himself and followed Craig's long strides from the car through cleanly-shoveled sidewalks and inside.

It was just as scary in there, with creepy pictures and books and poor lighting that Tweek was sure were ideal for curses and rituals. A couple of guys in dark clothing were in the back, while a woman with ink-black hair lounged at the front desk.

"Tucker!" she said when they came in.

"Hey, Henrietta," Craig said. He looked over his shoulder at Tweek, who had instinctively shrunk behind him. "My boyfriend's thinking about getting a tattoo." Tweek worried the cuffs of his sleeves with his fingernails but liked the sound of my boyfriend. Maybe he should start calling Craig that, like Kyle called Kenny. Of course, the idea of taking couple selfies made Tweek want to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment, so maybe not.

"Sure thing." Henrietta beckoned Tweek over with the crook of her finger. "Know what you want?"

"I was thinking about gettingthesameoneCraighasnghhh..." Phase one, meet Craig's...friend? Peer? Introduced as his boyfriend. Phase two...Tweek was drawing a blank.

Henrietta smirked up at him from under no fewer than twelve layers of purple eyeshadow. "Virgin?"

"E-Excuse me?" Tweek squeaked. "Don't you, gah, thinkthat'salittlepersonalngh?"

"Tattoo virgin?" she clarified, and Tweek flushed, sure he'd answered two questions with one idiotic answer.

"Leave him alone, Henrietta," Craig said. His voice was hard as ever, but Tweek suddenly felt their fingers threading. Calmness came with it. "Maybe just a list of prices and your what-to-expect brochure, huh?"

Henrietta handed Tweek a couple of pamphlets that listed the different services the parlor offered, prices, and prep. "You want to make an appointment?" she asked.

"I have to checkmyschedule." Tweek could not believe Craig let this girl stick needles in him.

"Oh, hey, Tucker," Henrietta said. The words were casual, but her tone wasn't, like she thought she was saying something subtly but failed miserably. When Craig grunted in response, she continued. "The wonder child, my spoiled kid brother, is a small fish drowning in a big pond. You work for a newspaper, right? Think you can get him some freelancing, or whatever the hell trust fund babies do?"

Tweek's fingers tightened, and he felt Craig's do the same. Neither of them came from particularly wealthy backgrounds; the Tweaks were middle-class suburbians, and the Tuckers, as far as Tweek knew, were on the poverty line.

"I didn't know you had a brother," Craig said instead of answering.

"Yeah, well, he's adopted, so I don't really," she said dismissively, inspecting her cuticles.

Craig's fingers tightened harder, and Tweek felt a flare of anger on his behalf. Even if most of Craig's friends in Denver didn't know and wouldn't unless they saw a picture of the Tuckers together. Blood wasn't the be-all, end-all of family.

Henrietta's eyes flitting up from under her spidery lashes was the first indication that Tweek had said that last part out loud. The second and more important signal was that Craig's grip on his hand lessened, his thumb running gently along the edge of Tweek's palm.

"Okay, whatever," she said. "Anyway, Tucker, can I send him your way so my parents will get off my back?"

Craig shrugged.

"Thanks, asshole. You're a real pal."

Chapter Text

Token checked his watch. He had just enough time to go through an e-mail or two before his interviewee arrived. Admittedly, he'd been more than a little surprised when Craig asked if he could send a freelance writer his way, with little more justification than a shrug and, "Obligation." Token marveled at the thought that Craig could experience obligation and wondered if Tweek had interceded on the interviewee's behalf.

Clyde bounded up to the bullpen then with a wide grin. "You guys," he said, shrugging off his jacket and dumping it over the back of his chair. It slid to the ground immediately. "Jimmy's getting out soon!"

The rest of the team perked up at the news. Jimmy had been in the hospital for nearly a month after some nutjob threw a homemade explosive through their office window, a threat meant for Kyle to lure out Mysterion. Token didn't think it was an exaggeration to say that they all wished they could've taken the bullet instead of Jimmy, the ever-positive, ever-earnest glue that held their squad together. Depending on their schedules, they'd all been in and out of Jimmy's room at the hospital over the past few weeks, though Clyde went the most consistently. 

"Okay, so, he's still on recovery. Probably a week to ten days after he's discharged," Clyde said. "I thought we could set up a rotation, if we could all do a day or two working from his place in case he needs anything."

"Sounds good," Token said, and the others were quick to chorus their agreement.

"Stan and Kenny will want to be in on it, too," Kyle said. Clyde flashed him a double thumbs-up.

"Cool. I know I should probably run this by Victoria first and all, but I wanted to be sure we were all down."

"Victoria won't mind," Token said. The Rocky Mountain Reporter's Editor-in-Chief dedicated herself fully to her staff. Token had run into her at the hospital more than once as well.

Clyde pulled out a scrap piece of paper and scribbled days on it. "Weekends, too, though we can always do those in shifts or whatever." He spun the paper around and pushed it and his pen towards Token. "Put down when you're free." Token looked down and saw that Clyde had penned himself in for any time every day.

He was just finishing adding his own availability when the elevator doors opened. "Ah, that must be my nine-fifteen. He's early." Token supposed he should've been happier about this, though he'd wanted to get a head start on his overflowing inbox. He passed the sign-up sheet down to Kyle and stood, adjusting his tie. Just as he was striding down towards the elevator, a blond head peeked out around the barrier of cubicle walls. Token slowed his pace. "Oh, Ken—"

The person stepped fully past the barrier and into Token's line of sight, and his strides stuttered for a second. It wasn't Kenny at all, though he shared Kenny's height and sun-gold hair. He was wearing a fine suit that Token knew even from a distance cost more than Kenny made in a month, a thick watch on his wrist, a briefcase in hand smelling of new leather. Token resumed his brisk pace, and when he was face-to-face with the stranger, he saw even more differences: the bright green eyes versus dark blue; the conventional handsomeness in his perfectly straight nose and square jaw versus Kenny's rounded face and nose that looked like it had healed from breaking twice; and the pleasant crinkles at the corners of his lips when he smiled that betrayed no ulterior motive, no knowing twinkle like Kenny's.

"Good morning," the veritable Adonis said. He should narrate audiobooks, Token thought, reaching out to shake his hand. A vague minty scent lilted in the air around the stranger. "I'm Bradley Biggle. I'm here to meet—"

"Token Black," Token said, both finishing Bradley's sentence and introducing himself. Bradley laughed and gave him a firm handshake. Two questions ricocheted in Token's mind: one, how had this guy not already landed a job in some top consulting firm, or whatever else his heart desired, and two, how in the hell did he know Craig? "Thanks for coming in to meet with me."

"Oh, well, thanks for having me," Bradley said. He ran a hand through his bangs, an unpracticed gesture that somehow made Token like him even more. "I really appreciate your consideration."

"Not at all, you've got a great resume." Token gestured over his shoulder. "Well, as you can see, we've got an open floor plan in our office, but this isn't much of a formal interview. Your education and writing portfolio look like they'll be a great fit for us, so all that's left to determine is if we're a good fit for you."

Bradley grinned. "Thank you. That's fantastic to hear."

"I'll give you a quick tour," Token said. "Freelancers aren't in the office, you'd work from home, but we like everybody to know our team." Token led him over to where the older half of their staff was and introduced him. They all took to Bradley immediately, even P.C. Victoria was able to say a quick hello but had to get right back to her desk. As he was leading Bradley over to the bullpen, Token asked, "So, aside from freelancing, what are you interested in doing?"

"Startup management, actually," Bradley said, flashing his front-page grin. "As a kid, I wanted to go into law because I really loved Judge Judy."

"Really?" Token asked with a laugh.

"Sure! She made the law seem so clear-cut and...exciting, you know? But when I started out in pre-law, I learned pretty quickly that real life is different from television." Bradley shrugged in an aw, shucks kind of way. "But I did like the intro course on drawing up documents, so when I shifted into business, I kept my focus there. I'd like to move into consulting and be able to help evaluate companies' strengths and weaknesses, help them manage their resources. Especially for smaller companies and startups."

"That's ambitious," Token said. They rounded the corner to the bullpen. "So, this is our team," he said more loudly. The rest of the guys perked up. "Guys, this is our interviewee for freelance writing, Bradley Biggle. Ah, this is Clyde Donovan. You'd be taking over some of his business contributions. He's mostly sports." Clyde spun in his chair and used the momentum to launch to his feet to shake hands. "You know Craig already..."

"We haven't met," Craig said with his usual enthusiasm. Token raised his eyebrows, but Bradley rounded the desks to shake his hand as well.

"So you're friends with Henrietta," Bradley said. "If you don't mind my saying so, you must be a saint!"

"I don't mind," Craig said, expression unmoved.

"And, uh, this is Tweek Tweak," Token continued. Tweek sputtered greetings and didn't shake Bradley's outstretched hand. "And this is—"

"Kyle Broflovski," Bradley said warmly, eyes going soft. 

"Hi, Bradley," Kyle said stiffly. When Token glanced over, he could see that Kyle's body language was as closed-off as his voice, his arms crossed, fingers pulling at his sleeves. His eyes flickered to Bradley's before returning to his computer. 

"I haven't seen you since high school," Bradley continued, slipping a hand into his pocket; there was something painfully boy-next-door about the motion. "You look great."

"Thanks, so do you," Kyle said, sounding like he'd been taking inflection lessons from Craig. 

"You guys went to school together?" Clyde asked, exchanging a look with Token.

"Rival schools, actually!" Bradley said. "Kyle was at South Park, I was North Park. Hey, Kyle, are you still friends with that football player? That Marsh guy?"

"Yep," Kyle said, clicking something on his computer and typing louder than necessary.

"We used to hate playing you guys when he was QB," Bradley said with a laugh. Now Tweek and Craig were exchanging looks with Clyde and Token, too. Kyle's ears had gone red, and everything about him said Go away, but Bradley seemed like a nice enough guy, if a little dense about taking the room's temperature. "That was how we met," he added to the rest of the bullpen, "at a homecoming game."

The polite thing to do would have been to inquire something harmless, like, Oh, you played football? but Token wasn't quite sure how to play Kyle's sudden frost. Neither, it seemed, did the rest of the bullpen.

"So you're in Denver now?" Bradley asked, and his voice finally dialed down a bit, suggesting he too was picking up on Kyle's disinterest.

"Yes," Kyle said shortly. His fingers hesitated in their assault on his keyboard, and he added, "I live with my boyfriend."

Bradley's face fell, and Token forced himself to avert his eyes out of manners. He'd suspected right away that Bradley was an ex, but the look on his face right now was all the confirmation Token needed. Clyde continued to gape, of course, and Token poked him hard between the shoulder blades to deter him.

"Oh...yeah?" Bradley replied, faltering at first but bouncing back with overdone cheeriness. "Living together, huh? That's...pretty serious?" Token didn't think he'd meant for that to come out as a question.

"Very serious," Kyle agreed in the sweetest voice he'd used since Bradley showed up. Kyle pushed his seat back from his desk and stretched his arms up over his head. "Well, it was nice to see you. I think I'm on coffee duty for the gang this time. Usual order?" Kyle got up and slipped on his jacket without looking at anyone, and pulled his ushanka over his red curls. "Tweek, you want to come with? Make sure they get yours right?"

Tweek grunted, shaking like crazy. "Ack! Ngh, yeah, okay." He jerked out of his seat and followed Kyle, who was already power-walking to the elevator. Bradley stared after him even when he turned the corner and disappeared from sight behind the cubicle walls.

"I should probably head out, too," he said, pivoting to reach over and shake Token's hand again. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me and show me around."

"Oh—not at all," Token said, attempting to regain his composure. "You have to leave so soon?"

"Well, I don't want to keep you from your work," Bradley said hurriedly. His eyes betrayed him, drawn to the sound of the elevator's ding at the other end of the office.

"You have paperwork to sign," Craig said. The dark tufts of hair escaping from under the chullo hat he insisted on wearing even indoors bristled. Token swallowed. Great. Craig had caught the overly unwelcoming bug from Kyle. Bradley glanced over at him. "If you're freelancing, there's paperwork."

"He's right," Token said, overcompensating with kindness. At least Bradley wouldn't be in the office with these two, assuming he now had any intention of taking the work. "It's a few standard forms. Do you have time?"

The elevator doors opened and shut in the distance, and Bradley sighed. "Yeah. Yes. Absolutely, I have time."

Fifteen minutes later, once he and Token were through all of the paperwork, Bradley was properly on his way. His spirit seemed to have bounced back, and he was once again the pleasant candidate he'd been when he first stepped into the office. As soon as the elevator dinged his departure, Clyde said, "He seemed nice" with a level of caution Token echoed. "But, man, what the eff was with Kyle?"

"They're clearly exes," Token said, lowering into his seat and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Ugh, I wish Kyle hadn't been like that, though. It was so..."

"Necessary," Craig interjected, and when Token looked up, all he could see were the stormclouds Craig's eyes conjured. "You saw. Right up until Kyle said he had a boyfriend, that guy was all over him, like, you look good, how've you been, let's get back together. It would've been worse if Kyle hadn't cut him at the knees."

"Yeah, but I'm still curious," Clyde mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets and slumping down in his chair. He frowned when Craig's blazing eyes cut to him. "Bradley didn't seem like a bad guy...and it's pretty obvious he was the dump-ee, not the dump-er."

"He wanted to get out of here so he could share the elevator down with Kyle," Craig said. "He was going to keep at him even after Kyle said he was in a relationship."

"Is that what you're mad about?" Token asked, raising his eyebrows. It wasn't like Craig to have strong opinions about...anything.

"Or are you just mad that it would've been an awkward elevator ride, and that would've upset Tweek?" Clyde added shrewdly. Token nearly said, "Ah!" aloud in agreement at the obvious correctness of his evaluation.

"I don't like the idea of either," Craig said, and his voice had flatlined to its usual monotone. "But he's gone now, so whatever."

"Boy, though, does Kyle have a type!" Clyde said, unfurling his hands from his hoodie. He crossed one arm lazily over his stomach and stroked his chin with the other hand.

"I thought it was Kenny when he first walked in," Token agreed. "I guess Kyle likes blonds." Immediately, Token was embarrassed to have walked into Clyde's gossip trap, but Clyde had taken his participation as a green light to keep going.

"Well, at least he has a physical type, I guess. I could smell that guy's money getting off the elevator. All that private education and dental work." Clyde's eyes glazed over dreamily. "I wonder what kind of car he drives. Do you think he drove here? Maybe we can see it from the window."

"Money's not everything, you know," Craig said, venom seeping back into his voice. Clyde flinched.

"I didn't say it was, dude. I mean, give Kyle a little credit. He dumped the rich guy for the poor guy, right?" 

While Clyde's heart was in the right place, Token sighed at his articulation. The angry splotches of red marring Craig's dark skin were starting to line up with logic. Person A is dating Person B, who doesn't have a lot of money or accolades but loves Person A like crazy. Person C shows up and is basically Person B but better, and clearly thinks Person A hung the moon. Kyle might have put the kibosh on Bradley, and it was hard to imagine Kenny even the slightest bit jealous, but maybe Token was coming at this from the wrong angle. Craig and Kenny had more than a little in common, so maybe it was or maybe it wasn't for Kenny's benefit that Craig was riled up.

"Well, he seems like a nice person insomuch as he's not an evil ex," Token said with a shrug. "But he's still an ex, and that keeps him firmly in Kyle's past. Especially when he's happy with someone else in the present." Carefully, so carefully, Token added, "I'm sure Tweek would agree."

The look Craig shot him said that his meaning hadn't been lost on its target, but Token smiled to see his friend's shoulders relax anyway. Craig gave off such an air of aloofness, a decided brand of fearlessness that dovetailed with a zenlike indifference. To think that the outlandish idea that someone could show up and whisk Tweek away would rattle him was...actually rather sweet. Token looked down to hide his smile. Craig huffed, and Token suspected he'd been caught anyway.

Chapter Text

So distracted by the embarrassment burning up his insides, Kyle had forgotten it was snowing out. Tweek didn't even have a jacket, he'd run after Kyle so quickly, and, plagued with guilt, Kyle yanked off his ushanka and pulled it down over Tweek's ears.

"Sorry," Kyle said. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

"You don't, ngh, havetoapologizeman!" Tweek shivered, and Kyle unzipped his jacket. He waved his hand in front of himself, still trembling. "I'm not cold, dude, geh."

They both jammed their hands in their pockets and trekked down the block to Harbucks. When they pushed through the front door, Tweek's whole face was red from cold, his shivering worse than ever. Kyle felt a pang of guilt, quickly chased out by the anxiety of having to return Tweek in this state to the office where Craig was. He draped his jacket over Tweek's shoulders and received a quiet grunt in reply.

The line was longer than Kyle expected, now that it was getting to be nine-thirty, but he was glad to be out of the office. Bradley Biggle. He'd all but forgotten about him, the first guy he ever went out with. It had been such a Hollywood meeting, too, Kyle sitting on the South Park side of the bleachers reading a book and looking up only when Stan was on the field, Bradley on crutches on the North Park side stealing conspicuous glances at him. At halftime, Bradley had hobbled his way over, sat down beside Kyle, and said, "Did you get that book at the library? Because I'm checking you out." It was so bad that Kyle had to laugh. He thought only Kenny used cheesy lines like that.

Bradley was a nice enough guy to date, terribly handsome and unwaveringly attentive. Even their first date felt like they'd been together for longer with the amount of attention he paid Kyle and the number of common interests they could talk about, chief among them getting into law school. Kyle recalled how nervous he'd been when he thought Bradley would be his first kiss, and—

"Kyle, ngh...areyouokay?" Tweek whispered. Kyle started. They were next up in line.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

They placed their order and shifted over to the pickup area. There was something in Tweek's trembling, some underlying purpose, that gave Kyle the impression he was building up to saying something. He sighed and waited for Tweek to piece together what he wanted to say.

"I meant...geh..." Tweek looked up at Kyle and held his gaze with what looked like a great deal of effort. "Are you okay, ngh...about...aboutthatguy?"

Kyle moved to cross his arms, then thought better of it when Tweek sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth. "We went out for a little while in high school, and it's really awkward seeing him again. That's all."

"Did it end badly?" Tweek asked. He followed this question up almost immediately with a squeak of alarm. "Notthatthat'sanyofmybusinessgah!"

"It's fine, Tweek." Regardless, both of Tweek's hands shot up under Kyle's hat and into his hair to find locks to pull on. "I broke things off with him, and...and I get it, I blindsided him, and maybe he's just looking for closure, but." Kyle closed his eyes, seeing Bradley back then coming to his basketball games and trying to pull him aside at halftime or afterwards. Always that same pleading smile. We can try again and We can work this out and What if we just hang out, no pressure, and all of the above made Kyle's stomach churn with nerves. It wasn't that Bradley was a bad guy or a bad date, but that kiss. There was no spark, no nothing, and Kyle had known in his gut as soon as Bradley's too-wet lips smushed against his that this wasn't going anywhere. That it wasn't just while kissing that their chemistry wasn't right. It was a good relationship, just not a romantic one. They'd hung out together once afterwards, with Kyle insisting and Bradley agreeing up and down that it was just as friends, but it clearly wasn't. Bradley wanted to lay that friendship foundation and build right back up to dating, and Kyle didn't know how to convince him that upgrade wasn't happening.

"He wasn't...pushyoranything, was he?" Tweek asked, his eyebrows practically tangled up in knots. Kyle opened his eyes again.

"No. Not on purpose. He just wanted more than I did, and I thought the best way to settle it was to cut ties altogether."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

Tweek looked back up at the counter when their order was called. He and Kyle scanned all of the markings on the cups to make sure everything was correct. Mocha with whipped cream on Clyde's, room for cream in Token's, tea for Craig and Kyle and...well, Kyle left Tweek's order to Tweek. When Tweek nodded that all was well, they each took a tray and headed for the door. They had to stop before opening it for Tweek to hurriedly return Kyle's jacket.

"So..." Tweek said. The walk back to the office was better with the wind at their backs. "You don't think you could just be friends now? After, ngh, a-allthistime?"

"It took a long time to shake him last time," Kyle said. "He was really persistent."

"I guess if you don't know why your boyfriend brokeupwithyou..."

"We weren't boyfriends," Kyle said. "I broke it off after our third date."

Tweek actually stopped walking, and Kyle nearly slid on the sidewalk when he turned around. "Y-Youonlywentonthreedates? Ngh...geh...but he was all over you!" He had the decency to look embarrassed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and Kyle took a few steps back so they were side-by-side again.

"Red flag, right?" Kyle said. They resumed walking and reached their building, Kyle groping for the door while balancing his tray in one hand. "Not that I think Bradley's dangerous, just...that kind of devotion is intense."

"Kenny's that devoted to you," Tweek said, his hand spasming on its way to press the call elevator button. "Oh, Jesus, whydidIsaythat? Ngh, why can't I filteranythingtoday?"

Kyle chuckled, glad that he could use the cold outside as an excuse for his red face. "Well, it's different when it's...you know, the right person...ugh, I can't believe I just said that."

Tweek smiled down at his coffee. "You're not wrong, though." The elevator arrived and they crowded the door, only to have to pull back and let other people out first. In the elevator, Tweek hit the button for their floor. For someone so twitchy, Tweek could balance a tray of coffee in one hand like a pro.

Thankfully, Bradley was gone when they arrived. Nobody asked Kyle about him, either, and he made sure to shoot Token a grateful look when he caught his eye. Kyle was just as careful not to make eye contact with Clyde, who was clearly struggling under a gag order and kept fidgeting in his peripheral vision. Tweek settled into his seat and, automatic as anything, Craig reached across their desks and slipped his hand into Tweek's. Kyle might not have noticed had Tweek not made a tiny quiver of a sound. Soon enough Kyle was lost in his work and could tune out the rest of the bullpen. It wasn't until the end of the day when he was heading out that he heard Clyde crack. Just as Kyle was turning the corner of the cubicle walls, Clyde's too-loud whisper carried to his ears: "Okay, but, do you think we can ask him tomorrow?" Token shushed him.

It was already dark when Kyle left the office, which seemed to make the wind colder and the snow piling up at his feet heavier. He trudged to the bus stop and waited ten minutes longer than usual for his bus to slog up to him. He was still the first one home, even with the delays, though now that he wasn't tacking an hour onto his day with Mysterion duties, Kenny wouldn't be far behind him. Kyle changed into lounge clothes but still slipped his apron over his head and tied it before he checked on the slow cooker he'd set up that morning. The vegetarian chili sent up a heavenly aroma when he lifted the lid, and he stirred the beans and tomatoes. Satisfied, he replaced the lid and went to retrieve a loaf of bread he'd saved in the freezer to heat in the oven.

Everything was nearly prepared when he heard a key in the lock and the door open, Kenny loping in with his duffel bag over his shoulder. "Hey," he called into the apartment.

"Hey," Kyle called back. Kenny retrieved his keys and shut the door. "Just me. Dinner's almost ready. You hungry?"

Kenny dropped his duffel bag on the floor and threw off his coat. "Ye-e-es," he groaned. "What are you making?"

"Chili," Kyle said, "and warm bread. There are tortilla chips in the cabinet if you want—"

Kenny's arms looped around him, his weight falling heavily on top of Kyle's head. Kyle scoffed, though it came out affectionately, while Kenny nuzzled his nose into red curls. "Apron's so cute," Kenny mumbled, tugging at the double-knotted tie around Kyle's waist, and Kyle squirmed away from the ticklish gesture. 

"Shut up," he said, feeling Kenny's smile in his hair. Kyle reached up from under Kenny's embrace to put his hands over Kenny's elbows, holding him in place while he leaned back against Kenny's chest. They had agreed to dial down the PDA that came with being a new couple, because nobody liked that couple, but when Stan wasn't in the apartment, it was easy to bend the rules. Kyle breathed deeply through his nose, feeling his eyelids flutter but not letting them shut before dinner was ready. For the last two weeks, his life had been rid of Cartman's poisonous existence and reinvigorated with Kenny's tranquility. Why take up yoga or meditation when inner peace was as easy as relaxing into a hug?

The timer Kyle had set went off, signaling that the bread was ready. He sighed, straightening. Kenny's arms, with all the appearance of looseness, tightened against the movement.

"Kenny, the bread'll burn. We'll set off the smoke detectors and the whole building will have to evacuate. I'm not going back out into that snow."

"We're not going to set off the smoke detectors," Kenny said, the laughter in his breath tickling Kyle's ear. Kyle huffed.

"Even if we don't, I'm not serving burnt bread with my dinner."

More laughter whistled through Kenny's teeth. "Love you," he mumbled.

Kyle sucked in a gulp of air and felt Kenny go just as still behind him. "What?"

"What?" Kenny echoed in a voice Kyle recognized from when Kenny helped him through a diabetic attack: everything's fine cloaking panic.

Kyle tried to turn around, but Kenny's arms braced him again, refusing face-to-face contact. "Kenny. Wh-what did you just say?"

"We're not going to set off the smoke detectors," Kenny said breezily. Kyle drew up one arm, his shoulder crooking. "Kyle, no, don't—" Kyle's elbow jabbed back into Kenny's superhero abs, earning a groan of pain nonetheless, and the slack in grip allowed Kyle to whirl around.

"Did you just say you love me?"

"Not wanting to set the apartment on fire is caring, Ky," Kenny said, fingertips ghosting over the point of impact on his stomach, "but love, gosh. Hey, is that burning bread I smell?" His eyes darted around the kitchen as he lunged for the oven. Kyle side-stepped into his path. Kenny curled his body in a different direction and Kyle intercepted that, too.

"Kenny, would you—Kenny, for goodness' sake, I—" Kyle blew air harshly out the side of his mouth and reached out, grabbing Kenny's face with both hands. "Kenny, I'm not mad, would you just...look at me?" Kenny's tongue clicked against the back of his teeth, then his eyes reluctantly slid up to meet Kyle's. The downward arc of his eyebrows and the vulnerability in the part of his lips stayed Kyle's tongue, made him forget whatever he was about to say. If he'd even planned anything to say. His mind raced to catch up to the present moment while refusing to let go of what Kyle knew he heard.

Kenny's that devoted to you. Again? Again everyone could see it, Kyle was last to the scene? He opened his mouth, not sure what to say. Devotion, sure, but love? Love was when you'd been together for a long time. Love was at least six months together (they'd know each other their whole lives), when you knew everything about one another (best friends their whole lives), and when you were the center of each other's universes (don't think about that fall, don't think about how the world felt like it was ending when Kenny landed on his neck on that stage).

"You—" This soft, fragile sound could not possibly be Kyle's voice. "...love me?" 

Kenny's expression turned solemn, and he took a step forward, simultaneously straightening to his full height and closing the gap between them. Kyle didn't move his hands, even though Kenny's eyes didn't shy away. He could feel Kenny's hand steadying under his chin, his thumb brushing its way up to Kyle's bottom lip. "I—"

Another key notched in their front door, and a second later it swung inward with a groaning Stan. "I don't care if I grew up in it, dudes, I hate the snow!" he called in lieu of a greeting. Kyle gasped, cursing his reflex of looking over and breaking his connection with Kenny's burning eyes. Stan glanced over at them and blinked away his annoyance, eyes filling with guilt. "Oh, uh, sorry, I—"

"No, no, our bad," Kenny said brightly, disentangling himself from Kyle and stepping around him to grab a potholder. He dipped down to open the oven door and slip out the perfectly toasted bread. "Sorry, dude, you weren't here, so..." He laughed, and Stan joined him, both sounding suitably uncomfortable.

"I keep. Forgetting," Stan said, giving Kyle a little smile. It was probably meant as an apology, Kyle thought belatedly, wondering what his expression must look like. He tried to tame it into nonchalance but knew he was nowhere near as good at masking his feelings as Kenny was.

"Dude. Kyle made chili," Kenny said. "Get the chips."

Immediately, all tension broke, and Stan retrieved the tortilla chips from the cabinet. While he and Kenny puttered around retrieving bowls, spoons, and drinks, Kyle watched them feeling like he was sitting in the audience at a movie theater, a spectator to movement in front of him, totally separate. Love you. Love you, love you, love you. They had been together for two weeks. Kyle knew his feelings went back at least to the point where his interest in Mysterion began, and, if he were being perfectly honest, probably back to their first kiss in that stairwell in high school. When Kyle had shyly reminded Kenny of that kiss, he'd chuckled and said it was a special memory for him, too, so Kyle had just assumed...but he had been oblivious. He hadn't realized how he felt about Kenny for years. Had Kenny been kindling that fire since high school?

Kyle could feel his heartbeat everywhere. In that moment, what was Kenny about to say? I was exaggerating? I meant that I love bread? Or was he going to repeat himself, confirm it, confess to Kyle right there in the kitchenette of their first apartment, with bread burning in the background? Kyle swallowed. He was almost positive—but he shouldn't assume. He was doing way too much of that lately. Thank goodness Stan came in when he did. What would Kyle even have said if Kenny had—

Don't think about it, he chided himself. It's only been two weeks, and already you're acting crazy. Push down the assumption of what he might have said. 

Push down wanting to hear it.

Chapter Text

Craig had never seen Tweek drive one-handed before. He was a stickler for hands at ten and two. Yet here he was, driving one-handed in the snow, his other hand laced up in Craig's between their seats.

As if he'd read Craig's mind, Tweek mumbled, "I should have both hands on the wheel, ngh, in the snow."

"Okay." As slowly as he could, Craig pulled his hand back so Tweek could drive responsibly. After a few minutes in the quiet of their car, the only sound the heat blowing, Craig's ears picked up the sound of music outside.

"Boy, they surearededicated," Tweek said when they drove up towards the source. Another Peruvian panflute band had set up camp near a trendy consignment shop and were playing even as the snow swirled around them. When their car passed by, Craig sunk lower in his seat. "You really don't like the music, Craig?"

"It's not that I don't like it," Craig said, looking straight ahead through the windshield. Tweek squeaked, but Craig knew the sound was encouragement to keep talking. He took a measured breath and leaned back in his seat.

How long had it been since he moved to America now? Twelve years, thirteen? Somewhere in there? Before his growth spurt, before his voice started changing, before he learned a word of English. Staring down black, beady eyes bigger than his whole body. Feeling his eyes burning with ancient fire, the markings roping up his arms constricting his future to a single path, his destiny as the Chosen One. Talons and teeth and fire tearing everything apart. ¡La muerte peluda! ¡La muerte peluda! His body on fire, everything on fire. Fangs the size of trees replaced with tiny gaps where teeth had been lost, monstrous hunger replaced with monstrous inexperience. No control, no control, crying for help, fire and tears. ¡La muerte peluda! 

"Craig?" Tweek whispered. Craig opened his eyes. They were home, parked in the lot that still hadn't been shoveled. He let his head loll to one side, cheek against his headrest, and met Tweek's wide eyes. He was quivering, not the full-blown shaking Craig had seen him escalate to when he was really wound up, but not an after-effect of his beloved coffee. Tweek was frightened. Shit.

"Yeah?" Of its own accord, Craig's hand resting on the center console turned over so that his palm faced the ceiling, and Tweek grabbed it.

"You, ngh, know you can...geh, tellmeanythingrightack?"

Double shit. Recently Tweek's anxious motor-mouthing had been slowing down; Craig liked to think of himself as a calming influence, needed to be that pillar for Tweek. Now he was the one unraveling him.

"I know," he said. They sat in the car, quickly chilling with the engine and heat turned off. Tweek's fingers trembled where they'd hooked around the curve of Craig's palm, and Craig squeezed his hand. "Right back at you." Craig lifted their linked hands and gave it a little tug. "We should go inside."

He kept a watchful eye on Tweek's back as he trembled through the snow too quickly for the unshoveled slickness. More than once Tweek's sneakers skidded, and Craig jerked forward on reflex to grab him, but Tweek regained his balance every time. They got through the snow, in the door, and up to their apartment, shaking the dusting of snow that had collected on their heads and shoulders in even that short amount of time.

Tweek barely had his sneakers off and was on his way to the coffee pot. "You, ngh, youwanttea?" he asked. Craig followed him into their kitchenette. Tweek was on autopilot, spooning coffee into the coffeemaker with one hand and opening a cabinet in search of a mug with the other. He paused in his frantic preparations to look over his shoulder at Craig, his fingers tracing a Red Racer mug handle with uncertainty. 

"Okay."

Tweek pulled two mugs down and set them on the counter, then crouched down to pull a saucepan out of the lower cabinet. He put it in the sink and filled up enough for one mug and put it on the stove to boil. The movement was so practiced, so domestic. Craig had seen Tweek brew coffee and boil water for tea a thousand times. Even with the shaking and occasional verbal tics, Tweek always calmed himself making hot drinks.

Craig went into the living room and pulled the afghan blanket his mom sent him for his birthday off the back of their futon and put it over his shoulders like a cape. He went back into the kitchen, came up behind Tweek, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into the blanket with him. Tweek sputtered at first, taken off-guard, but soon relaxed. Craig glared down at the blue and brown granny squares checkering the blanket's pattern.

Do a better job at keeping him warm, he thought. Balance out my cold.

"Want to watch a movie or something?" he asked.

"Geh...yeah, okay," Tweek said, still shivering under him. Craig pulled the blanket more tightly around Tweek's shoulders. "I'll bring our drinks...umm...you pick the movie. Nothing scary!" Craig snorted; every time they watched a movie, Tweek insisted on avoiding horror, even though he knew Craig knew.

"'Kay," Craig agreed. He ran his tongue over his lips just enough so that they didn't feel so cracked, then dipped his head down to brush them against Tweek's earlobe.

"Umm," Tweek mumbled. When Craig withdrew his lips, Tweek leaned his head back on Craig's shoulder, his nose brushing Craig's collarbone.

It would be so easy, so simple to lean down and kiss him. Craig clamped his teeth down onto his tongue on purpose to stop himself. Not until he was ready. Not until he was comfortable. Craig had already upset Tweek once tonight, he wasn't going to screw up his everything-is-fine act by doing it again. Tweek looked up at him, green eyes enormous and searching his face. Something flickered there, but before Craig could identify it, Tweek shut his eyes.

Chapter Text

Clyde knew he wasn't the brains of the bullpen, but he also knew when someone was hurting. It was his greatest gift. And he knew from the slump of Kyle's shoulders that his friend wasn't just "tired" when he trudged into the office that morning.

It was that Bradley guy. Clyde was sure of it. He swooped in from Ex-land, and now Kyle and Kenny were having problems, and Clyde was going to have to kick his ass. Or convince Token not to hire him. Even if it meant not being able to move along those extra business articles and focus on sports. A little profit and loss recapping on top of the regular workload was nothing if it meant Kyle didn't break up and get sadder.

Jimmy was being released that afternoon, and after a short and unanimous discussion, the bullpen agreed that they were all going to get him. The odds of someone coming into the office or needing them urgently for the hour or so they were all absent weren't high enough to convince any of them not to be there when Jimmy got out. Clyde had the first shift, staying over at Jimmy's place that night and all of the next day, so he was riding over with Token. Token had the nicest car, so he and Clyde would transport Jimmy in luxury while Kyle rode over with Tweek and Craig in the creaky coffeemobile that would shake, rattle, and roll over every speed bump. Tweek's car would come back to the office after they'd visited at the hospital, and Token would return as well once he and Clyde got Jimmy settled in.

Clyde couldn't have Kyle's eyes all sad on the day they were getting Jimmy. In fact, he didn't want Kyle's eyes sad at all. He ripped a sheet of paper out of a notebook he sometimes used and scribbled everybody's names down, then started tearing the paper into strips.

"What are you doing?" Craig asked.

"We gotta do an office holiday grab, right?" Clyde asked. When he looked around the bullpen, he met four blank looks. "What? We're more than halfway through November, and people start taking time off in, like, a month." He held up the strips with everyone's name on them. "We'll pull names and exchange gifts."

"Like a Secret Santa?" Tweek asked. "Ngh...!"

"Yeah, but don't call it that. P.C.'ll flip out. Oh." Clyde probably should've thought his plan through a little better, because maybe a Secret Santa wasn't the best way to cheer up the only Jewish person in the office.

Kyle had a wry smile on his face, though. "Sounds like fun. What are the rules?"

"Rules? Um..." Clyde blinked, then set down the papers and started folding them. "Everybody picks a name, and you have to keep it a secret until the swap. Except whoever gets Jimmy...let me know that he's been claimed so I don't give him his own name later." Everyone nodded. "Uh, twenty bucks? We swap a month from today?"

"December eighteenth," Token added, pulling up his calendar program.

"We'll just do the bullpen, huh?" Clyde asked with a little smile. "You guys are my bros, but I can't afford presents for all of you."

"Ooh, ulterior motives," Kyle drawled, but Clyde could see that being included in the friend group pleased him.

"Okay." Clyde had folded all of the names up and moved them around on his desk so they were all mixed up. "Everybody pick one." They did, Kyle leaning over Tweek's monitors to reach. Clyde opened up his paper: Tweek. "Does anybody have Jimmy?" Craig raised his hand. "Cool. Then the last one left'll be Jimmy's." Clyde wiggled his fingers at the rest of the bullpen. "Let the mystery gifting commence!"

At three o'clock, the bullpen packed up and squished into the elevator to head down to the hospital. Jimmy was up and waiting for them in a wheelchair, which the nurse said he had to use leaving per hospital policy but didn't need once he was home. Token went back down to the parking lot to pull his car around, and just as the doors of his elevator were closing, the doors on the elevator beside it opened and Kenny and Stan burst out.

"Good, we didn't miss you!" Stan said. He went right up to Jimmy and high-fived him. "Kyle said you didn't need any extra help, but..."

"Just in case," Kenny said, his words slightly muffled under the hood of his parka. He pushed it back off his head, sending snow fluttering to the ground. "Loving the weather for your goodbye tour, Jimmy?"

"Y-y-yes, it's p-puh-perfect," Jimmy said with a grin. It occurred to Clyde that he didn't know whether or not Jimmy knew Kenny was Mysterion. While Jimmy engaged Stan, whose face had paled looking around the hospital but regained color as he focused on the jokes, Clyde noticed Kyle sidle up to Kenny.

"You left early this morning," Kyle murmured.

"Ah, figured I'd make up the time in advance," Kenny said, not turning away from Jimmy. Kyle leaned into him, but Kenny ruffled his red hair, physically holding him at a distance without looking at him. Rebuffed, Kyle shrank back.

Clyde was going to punch Bradley in his stupid, perfect face.

With the paperwork signed and Jimmy officially free, their entourage herded into the elevator and headed down to the emergency room entrance where Token was meeting them. Kenny gave Jimmy his parka for the trip, which Jimmy tried to refuse, but Kenny insisted.

"You never should've ended up in the hospital," Kenny said, the weight of the world on his words. Jimmy quirked an eyebrow but accepted the jacket. Again Clyde saw Kyle try to lean into Kenny and Kenny step aside to keep the gap between them. This was the first time since he'd met Kenny that Clyde hadn't seen him drape himself all over Kyle at least once. Stupid Bradley and his stupid straight teeth.

Kenny also single-handedly lifted Jimmy from the wheelchair and helped get him into the backseat of Token's car, Token leaning in through the opposite door. Normally it would be emasculating to have planned the group trip to the hospital only to have Kyle's boyfriend do all the work, but Clyde more than recognized the guilt marring Kenny's face. Jimmy had been hurt in an attack meant to lure out Mysterion; it was obvious Kenny was bearing that cross. Once Clyde and Token slid into the front seat and headed off, it was impossible to take his eyes off of Kenny's lanky form in the rear-view mirror.

As soon as they turned the corner, Clyde took it upon himself to fill that silence. "Okay, so, since you've been gone..."

"I know that Kyle and Kenny got t-t-tuh...together," Jimmy said. "They came to visit a c-cuh-couple time t-together."

"Cool, one less thing to fill you in on," Clyde said. "Also, Kenny is Mysterion."

"...Wh-wuh-wahh...whaaat?"

The ride to Jimmy's place consisted of Clyde and Token telling Jimmy the full details of what went down at the fashion show, since he'd only heard bits and pieces while he was in the hospital.

"You know, we sh-should have nuh-known," Jimmy said. "There were c-clues if we'd only seen them."

"Yeah, well, Craig figured it out and didn't let anybody in on it," Clyde muttered.

"Not even Tweek," Token added, which made Clyde feel a little better.

"So Mysterion is ret-t-t-tired." Jimmy went quiet in the backseat. "Hopefully with the C-C-Cuh...with..."

"That guy," Token interjected. Clyde watched Jimmy in the backseat give a curt nod.

"With him g-gone...need for a vigilante will d-d-decrease."

Clyde sighed. "Fingers crossed, dude."

Chapter Text

Karen tipped her head back and raked her hands through her hair, pulling it all into a ponytail and then wrapping it into a messy bun. Even as tendrils fell from it, signaling that it wasn't her best work, Karen felt her need to be productive skyrocket. She sat down in front of her dress mannequin and pulled the satin fabric taut in her hands, evaluating where the brooch should go, where to embroider.

Across their room, Ruby was sprawled out on her bed, long legs crossed, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm getting food," she announced, sitting up. "Want anything?"

"Where are you going?"

"The convenience store on the first floor."

Karen debated asking for the greasiest bag of chips Ruby could find, a private victory against Kenny's do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do pressure for her to be conscientious. Kyle's disapproving face flashed across her mind, and she groaned. "An apple, if they look OK." It was bad enough having an honorary older brother who was a stickler for health, but now Kyle was evolving into an even closer relation. Karen had been teasing Kenny with wedding talk from the minute he told her they were together. Which, side note: finally.

Ruby flashed her a thumbs-up and grabbed her wallet. "Let me in?" she asked, and Karen murmured agreement, so Ruby left her keys where they were on the floor.

Not a minute after the door clicked shut behind her, there was a tapping on the window. Karen looked up from her work to see a familiar half-masked face peering in at her. She jumped up to unlock it, and her brother came tumbling in, cape and all.

"Hey!" Karen said, shutting the window against the cold. When she turned back, Kenny was perched on the edge of her bed, glowering, posing. She rolled her eyes. "To what do I owe the honor, and will this take more than ten minutes, because I'll need a cover story for when Ruby gets back and finds a strange man in our room."

"Hello, Karen," he said, and she rolled her eyes again at the raspy voice. "I came to you for...advice."

"Advice?" Her smile faltered at her brother's darkened eyes, the little pucker in his cheek that suggested he was biting the inside of it. "Everything okay?"

"I did something..." Kenny hesitated, then admitted, "stupid, and I need help fixing it." Karen moved her mannequin aside and sat down next to him on the bed, putting her hand over his gloved one and patting it comfortingly. When she asked what was wrong, he stared down at his boots, dirty but thankfully not making a mess of their rug. "I said something I didn't mean to to Kyle."

"Did you guys have a fight?" Karen asked, hardly able to believe it. Kyle was the only person on the planet who had Kenny wrapped around his little finger as well as she did; he could say the sky was orange and Kenny would agree.

"N-No..." 

"Kenny—"

"Mysterion."

"Kenny, can you dial it down on the Batman impression? I get it, you're not feeling so cool right now, but trust me, the voice isn't making your uncoolness go away." 

Kenny sighed and pushed back his hood, tugging his mask down from his face. Karen shook her head. "I-I told him I love him," he said in his usual voice. With the mask gone, she could see just how red his face had gone. Karen's eyebrows shot up.

"Aww!"

"No, not 'aww'! The opposite of 'aww'! Karen, it's been two weeks. He probably thinks I'm out of my mind or have stalker tendencies, or else that I'm rushing this, and—" Kenny gestured wildly, and Karen shushed him.

"Okay, okay, well, let's take 'probably' out of the equation. What did Kyle actually say? Wait, back up, why did you tell him in the first place?"

"It slipped out," Kenny mumbled, shoulders hunching. "I don't know, we were kind of hugging and I just said it, like an idiot." Karen wondered how exactly one 'kind of hugged,' then wondered if Kenny were skimming over details because he was talking to his little sister. More of that do-as-I-say nonsense.

"You weren't, like..." Karen pressed her lips together to prevent a wicked grin from crossing her face. "In a...private setting when you blurted out the 'L' word, were you?" She'd learned how to purr and pry from the best and could see her brother's regretting teaching her the art of insinuation in the knit of his brows and the horror of his dropped jaw.

"No," he said, and Karen believed him. "I mean, we haven't—a-anyway..." He shot her a look, and Karen felt her smirk widening beyond her control. "I definitely freaked him out, and then Stan came home, and I've been kind of avoiding him since then."

"Uh, avoiding? That's not a good idea. You gotta talk about this, Kenny."

"I know, but..." Kenny raked a hand through his hair. "What if it's too much pressure for me to be this serious this soon into the relationship and he wants to...? What if I scared him off?"

Karen wrapped her arm around her brother and put her palm against his cheek, pushing his head down onto her shoulder. She patted his hair like a cat. "What if you didn't?" she asked, and Kenny whined at her answer. He hated it when people answered questions with questions. "What if you're doing more damage to your relationship by not talking about it than you did dropping the 'L' bomb two weeks in? Assuming you even did any damage in the first place. Especially coming off his learning that you were Mysterion that whole time, don't you think more secrets are a bad idea?"

Kenny's sigh dragged out into a groan. "When did you get so smart?"

"When you weren't looking."

Chapter Text

Craig could feel rapid tapping on his shoulder, like a bird angrily landing and flitting back up and landing again. When he turned around to see to whom the insistent hand belonged to, he met the bright green eyes and pursed lips of another student sitting behind him. His shock of blond hair stuck out in all directions, though his eyebrows were dark, and Craig's first thought was does he dye it? The guy currently glaring at him was skinny, with dark circles under his eyes, and looked every bit the strung-out stereotype of a college freshman, right down to the venti Harbucks cup and Macbook on the foldout armrest desk in front of him. The professor's drone at the front of the auditorium-like classroom fell into a near-silent buzzing a thousand miles away, like his brain was pressing the mute button on the lecture and dialing up the HD on the blond.

"Do you mind slouching, or leaning, or something?" the blond hissed, shivering with the effort. Craig swallowed. "I can't see the damn, ngh, PowerPoint."

"Okay," Craig whispered back. The blond exhaled one angry burst of air through his nose and met his glare head-on until Craig pried his eyes away, turning back to the front of the class and slouching down in his seat, leaning onto one armrest. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Clyde trying to catch his eye. He ignored him.

Craig let his eyes and mind drift to details some people might think extraneous, but he prided himself on noticing sparks of inspiration in the world. It had been weeks and he couldn't identify a single classmate in this hall of fifty freshman except for Clyde, and he wondered how it was that his eye had missed the blond spitting fire at his back. It was a weird feeling, like he wanted to fight the guy but also kiss him. Maybe both. At the same time.

In the weeks that followed, Craig figured out pretty quickly how he'd missed Tweek. He was usually quiet, maintained a self-imposed curfew, and kept himself shut up in his dorm or the library, with frequent trips only for his coffee fix. It didn't change the fact that he'd introduced himself with a righteous fury Craig needed to incite. He stuck to Tweek like glue, watching and waiting for him to lose his temper again, wanting to shield him from anyone else who might catch a glimpse of his supernova. His presence had the opposite effect, soothing Tweek into a state of calmness, like nothing bad could happen to him so long as Craig was around. The jealousy in his jealous protection cooled the closer Tweek let him get, until Craig's nose was buried in his surprisingly soft hair and he could feel Tweek's steady breathing on his neck.

Craig's eyes slid open as he gradually woke, though he knew it was the middle of the night still from the darkness in the room. They'd flattened the futon from sofa form to bed halfway through the movie and must've fallen asleep. Craig's laptop was open but in sleep mode on the coffee table, and Tweek was curled up against his side, slow breaths puffing into the crook of Craig's neck. One of Tweek's arms was wrapped around Craig's shoulders like he was a teddy bear, like Tweek was trying to pull himself up and as close as possible.

Down the hall in Craig's room, Stripe was wheeking. He wasn't any noisier than other guinea pigs, but this was loud. Craig huffed a sigh, rolling his head from one shoulder to the other, Tweek's hair tickling his cheek. When his neck cracked, Tweek stirred against him. Tweek didn't drift in and out of sleep like Craig did, though; he fell in one swoop. That little twitch was all the warning Craig had before Tweek was bolt awake and staring up at him.

"Hey," Craig said drowsily. Whatever panic was rising in Tweek seemed to settle. "I think we fell asleep." Tweek squirmed, like he wasn't sure if he should sit up or not. Stripe's wheeking got louder, and Craig tensed. He looked down at his tattoos, fully on display after he'd given Tweek his hoodie. Craig was used to turning his warm clothing over to his shivering boyfriend but suspected that there had been an ulterior motive; after asking for it Tweek just draped his hoodie over his shoulders, but spent most of the movie tracing his tattoos with his fingertips. That nice memory was slipping away; it was faint, but a burning sensation was creeping up his arms like a vine crawling a trellis. 

Tweek sat up, and Craig's first thought was that he could feel the burning, too, but he faced the hallway. "Stripe seems upset."

"Yeah, I'm gonna check on him," Craig mumbled. He got up and headed to his room, hearing Tweek pad behind him after a few steps. The closer he got to his room, the more aware of the fire in his arms he became. He went straight to Stripe's cage and slipped his fingers through the bars towards him. Stripe pattered over and rubbed his chubby head against Craig's fingers, shivering under his touch. Craig swallowed.

"Everything okay?" Tweek asked from the door. Craig looked over his shoulder, still scratching behind Stripe's ears. His wheeking lowered.

"I think so." Craig said. "Maybe I'll just give him a carrot. Hold him over 'til breakfast."

Tweek disappeared and returned with a handful of baby carrots, and Craig passed them through the bars. Stripe ate readily, and Craig rubbed his forearms.

"Yeah, I think he's fine." Craig yawned. He heard Tweek shifting in the doorway and looked up.

"Are you...goingtobed?" Tweek asked.

Craig shrugged. "Yeah, I think so."

Tweek shifted again and looked down at his fingers, worrying the bottom of Craig's hoodie, still draped over his shoulders. "Can I...stay? Here? To sleep?"

"Yep."

The answer was immediate and seemed to surprise Tweek, but it was hard to read his expression from across the room in the dark. Craig's eyes were adjusted enough to the dark that he could see Tweek still toying with his hoodie.

"Okay," Tweek said. "Okay."

Chapter Text

Craig sauntered into the children's room in the library just in time for the epic finale.

"Oooogh!" Butters groaned, stumbling to the floor. "You win this time, Mysterion, uh, b-but I'll be back!" The semicircle of small children surrounding them screamed and clapped while Kenny took a warrior's pose and grinned at them. Craig knew his presence didn't go unnoticed, catching the quick tensing and relaxing in Kenny's shoulders. Granted, it's not like he was trying to hide.

Kenny and Butters hung around to take a few pictures with the kids, then skirted off to the librarians' office. When the coast was clear, or the kids had at least dispersed to other parts of the library, they came back out in their regular clothes, Butters zipping up a pastel fleece, Kenny loping out in his usual worn parka. With a quick salute to Butters, Kenny beelined for Craig.

"Hey, what's up?" Kenny said, voice chill as air conditioning, eyes dark as night.

"Kyle's fine, relax," Craig said. In a blink, Kenny's eyes were as light as his tone. "I wanted to ask your advice on some stuff, though. Mysterion stuff, I guess."

Kenny twisted his lips to one side, considering. Craig could see the wheels turning, could see Kenny trying to figure out what Mysterion questions Craig might have. "Okay. Let's go for a walk."

They headed for Kenny's bus stop, but Kenny lightly suggested they take the long way, figure-eighting through blocks instead of walking straight to add time. As soon as they were out of the library, Craig asked, "How much do you understand about your powers?"

Kenny sucked his teeth audibly, and Craig pursed his lips to keep himself from barking at him to stop. The noise crawled in Craig's skin. "Next to nothing. I can't die. It applies to illness and fatal physical injuries. The first time I came back, I was eight years old, and..." Kenny trailed off, but his voice didn't drift in that dreamlike way when one lost their train of thought. It faded intentionally, like he didn't want to share whatever he'd been about to say. Craig sighed. "Why?"

"You ever feel like you're the chosen one?" Craig asked. He kept his line of sight fixed ahead, though he could feel Kenny's eyes burning blue into his profile. "Like, with great power comes great responsibility, and other BS lines from comic books?"

"I think I'm cursed," Kenny said. "I've suffered death over and over again. Like, I'm a magnet for freak accidents and shit. It's like the universe knows I'm not right and is trying to scrape me off, but it can't."

Craig suspected Kenny could rant on further if he encouraged him, but he didn't. Partly because he didn't really know Kenny, and partly because they could only dawdle for so long and Craig had things to say.

"I like that," he said instead. "Cursed. That's a better way of putting it."

Kenny eyed him warily. "Why do I feel like you're not talking about me?"

"Because I'm not. I've got one, too. A curse." This time Craig did meet Kenny's stare. "Eye lasers, triggered by calamity."

"Huh." Kenny didn't so much as bat an eye at that announcement. Craig had never in his life told someone about his powers, and Kenny straight up didn't give a crap. He supposed dying and regenerating in an endless cycle did kind of trump eye lasers, but still. "Well, eye lasers are cool. The calamity part's got me a little worried."

"When I was a kid, I realized I had powers when something bad happened," Craig said, and he knew how douchey it was to talk in vague circles, but he didn't want to get into his whole sob story with Kyle's boyfriend. "That's when they kicked in, and I had to save the world or whatever. It was a whole thing." Kenny snorted, though the smile that ghosted across his face quickly retreated. "I thought I was done. It never happened again. Until recently. I've been feeling my eyes burning, my tattoos burning..." Craig rubbed his arm instinctively, picturing the markings beneath his winter layers. "It's like electricity coursing through my body, trying to get out."

"Like an omen?" Kenny's eyes had gone dark again. His game face was on. His Mysterion face, Craig supposed.

"Like an omen," Craig agreed. "I don't want to get dragged into this crap again. I just want to get up in the morning, go to work, come home, and chill. Nice and boring. My life's been boring since I saved the world, and it just got nice within the last couple of years. I'm good."

Another stifled snicker sounded beside him. When Craig glanced over, though, Kenny's face had turned to stone. "I worry, too," he whispered. "That when the universe comes for me, Kyle is going to get hurt."

Craig waited a full three seconds before mumbling, "Yeah." This was why he came to Kenny in the first place. They barely knew a thing about each other—Craig wracked his brain for Kenny's last name and came up empty; Kenny was the only Kenny he knew, and if he ever had to specify Which Kenny or Kenny Who, he'd say "Kyle's Kenny"—but that didn't matter. This was the one thing that no other person either of them knew understood. The nicest parts of them, and the shit that threatened that.

"So, what triggers your powers?" Kenny asked finally. The bus stop was within reach. "It sounded like something specific, not just general calamity."

¡La muerte peluda! Those cries echoed in Craig's mind and he shook his head. "Monsters. From deep inside the earth. La muerte peluda."

"The furry death?" Kenny translated. Craig's head snapped up. "Hey, dude, I took Spanish in school. I'm guessing I made a wrong turn in there somewhere, though, because 'furry death' doesn't sound right."

"No, you're right. Just..." Craig heaved a sigh. "It's not just the electricity in me that has me worried. It's the panflute bands."

"Oh, those...Peruvian guys at the train station and the mall?" Kenny raked his hand through his bangs. "Dude, this conversation's giving me serious mood whiplash."

"Sorry." Craig hated that he had to share so much to make sense, but Kenny would be of no use to him if he couldn't make heads or tails of Craig's problem. "I lived in Peru when I was a kid, and the monsters came from Peru, and the traditional Peruvian music those guys play keeps them in the earth."

Kenny swallowed. "There've been a lot of those bands showing up lately."

"Yeah."

"Kind of like they've called in backup."

"Yeah."

"Can music hold off these furry death monsters?" In spite of the absurd words coming out of his mouth, Kenny's voice communicated complete faith in what Craig was telling him.

"Not forever."

They reached the bus stop, Kenny's bus already rolling closer from down the block. Turning his back to it, Kenny squared his shoulders and met Craig's eyes. "Okay, let me see if I can recap. When you were a kid in Peru, Peruvian furry monsters attacked and you used eye lasers you didn't know you had to defeat them. The powers showed up in time to fight them off and then went away. Fast-forward to now, and you can feel those powers coming back. Panflute bands are holding off the furry monsters, but they're coming eventually. What is it that you want me to take away from this conversation, exactly?"

"I'm saying that something bad might happen soon, and I might be the only one who can fight it." Craig groaned even as he said it. Stupid bullshit Chosen One curse. "And if...no, let's be serious. When something bad happens, I need you to protect Tweek." The bus creaked to a stop beside them, though Kenny made no move to break their eye contact and get on.

"Yeah," Kenny promised. "You've helped Kyle enough times. I'll look out for Tweek. When the furry pandemic arrives."

As soon as Kenny was on his bus, Craig walked the extra four blocks to his own stop. He'd told Tweek he had a quick errand to run after work and would meet him at home, but now that conversation didn't consume his attention, he was keenly aware of the winter wind blustering around him and wished he didn't have to stand outside waiting for a bus. As soon as his ride pulled up, Craig paid his fare and slumped into a seat to text Tweek that he was on his way. The damn snow backed everything up. It was nearly seven when his bus dropped him off at the stop nearest their apartment, and Craig had to trudge through even more snow to get home.

He took the stairs up to their apartment, stomping his boots along the way to kick off the excess slush. Maybe Tweek had started dinner already. Craig checked his phone again, even though he was literally thirty seconds away; no reply to the text he'd sent before six.

When he stepped into their apartment, the lights were on, and Tweek's work bag was lying on its side near the futon, but no warmth glowed from the kitchen, not even the aroma of coffee to greet him. Craig shut the door behind him. "Tweek?" He listened to his own voice echo off their walls, a chill settling in his stomach. Then a soft sound caught his ear. Shaky breathing. Sniffling. Wet sniffling. Tweek, somewhere in their apartment, crying.

The protective fire that exploded in Craig's stomach nearly made him physically lose his balance. He tore through their apartment, mind too dizzy to remember the layout. He followed the sound on instinct. Where was Tweek? His room. The crying was coming from Craig's room.

He pushed in the door, already open a crack, and saw Tweek sitting on the floor on the other side of his bed. "Tweek?" At the sound of his name, Tweek turned his head, and sure enough, his eyes were wide and glassy, cheeks wet, bottom lip trembling. Craig dove into the room, arms already out and ready to encircle him, the part of his brain that usually told him to ease into everything with Tweek turned off. Tweek made a few hiccuping squeaks, unable to get out the words. "What's wrong?" Craig asked, and as he rounded his mattress he froze. His eyes dropped from Tweek's wrecked expression to the bag of carrot sticks dropped on the floor beside him to the tiny, furry body cradled in Tweek's arms.

Completely still.

Chapter Text

Kyle wasn't sure what to make for dinner. Stan had texted around lunchtime that he wouldn't be home until late, which meant it would just be Kenny and him. If that. Ever since he'd said he loved Kyle—Kyle knew what he'd heard—Kenny had been avoiding him like he was contagious. Just as friends Kyle had gotten used to Kenny's draping himself over his shoulders, intentionally bumping into him, or at least standing nearby, and for the past two weeks, he'd fallen right into cuddling and kissing on top of that. Going from all of that affection to none of it was like a punishment.

As if summoned by Kyle's thoughts, Kenny arrived a few minutes later. The door swung open and Kenny shook the excess snow off himself in the hallway before coming in. "Hey," he called into the apartment.

"Um. Hey," Kyle replied, jumping up from the couch. "I haven't...started dinner yet."

"Okay, good. I wanted to talk to you." Sucking in a breath, Kenny hovered for a moment near the kitchenette before coming over to the couch and plopping down. Following his lead, Kyle sat again, heartened when Kenny reached for his hand. "I'm sorry I've been acting—weird lately." Kyle nodded once. "I...you heard right the other night. That. I said that." He squeezed Kyle's hand.

"So, why'd you freak out?" Kyle asked, more callously than he intended. Kenny flinched.

"Because it's been two weeks. Officially." Kenny's eyes dropped to their hands for a second before he appeared to wrench his gaze back up. "I don't know, dude, I went into panic mode, pretending I didn't...but I did. And it's okay," he added hurriedly, "if you don't say it back or feel it yet, because that's. You know. Normal. As long as..." Kenny's voice petered out, or maybe it was his courage, something Kyle didn't think had limitations. Either way, his eyes pleaded for Kyle to understand.

"I'm not upset about you saying that, Kenny. Just that you wouldn't talk about it after." The pleading eyes still searched Kyle's face. "I'm not scared off, either. You're stuck with me." 

That must have been the correct translation for Kenny's desperate look, because the relief in his sigh, the tension that melted out of his body as his shoulders relaxed, washed over Kyle completely.

"Kenny, tell me something." Shifting his weight, Kyle pulled one leg up underneath himself, the other dangling off the edge of the couch. Turning over the hand already clasped in Kenny's so that their palms cradled one another, he used his other hand to toy with Kenny's sleeve. "How long have you liked me?" Hurt seeped into Kenny's expression at the careful word liked, and Kyle clarified, "Before it got that serious. When you first started liking me in general."

"Um...oh, I don't know," Kenny said in a voice dripping with guilt.

"Yes, you do," Kyle said. Kenny looked down at their hands again, his sandwiched between Kyle's. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Couple of reasons. First I thought it would go away, you know?" His eyes flickered to Kyle's face before Kenny continued. "Like one of those...you know how you get those twenty-four hour crushes on, like, a particularly funny thing your friend says?" Kyle snorted his assent that, yes, he knew what Kenny meant. "But I didn't get over it. And I kept telling myself, man, this is your best friend, knock it off, but I wouldn't listen." That earned a laugh, which encouraged the grin stretching across Kenny's face. "Then when you...I mean, when I found out I had a chance, I—"

"You liked me before you knew I liked guys?" Brain tallying up time, Kyle felt horror gnawing at his stomach. "So, that's. At least six...seven years?"

"...Something like that," Kenny said. Instinctively, Kyle knew he'd slipped up, giving Kenny an easy out to his question. The idea that Kenny had harbored feelings for him even longer than that weighted down his shoulders. "It was just a crush before then, I promise. I liked sitting next to you or listening to you talk more than I did with the other guys, stuff like that. Everything was just kind of...warmer when you were around."

Ducking his head to hide his smile, Kyle focused on playing with Kenny's sleeve. That he completely understood.

"I thought about telling you senior year," Kenny said. Right after Kyle told him. "But you and Stan were already leaving South Park after high school. I thought if things didn't work out, I'd lose you forever."

How did Kenny do it? How did he take tiny, insignificant words Kyle used all the time and find the combination that made everything else disappear? In his voice, Kyle could feel the weight of those words, the end of the world if the fear they held came true. It was impossible not to look up and make eye contact, and once again Kyle felt like an idiot for not figuring out Mysterion's identity sooner. Blue eyes weren't uncommon in Kyle's growing circle of friends, but only Kenny's burned like that.

"Then you started dating that tool from North Park."

The shyness tickling Kyle's smile froze. "Bradley?" Kenny grunted. "You...didn't like him?"

"I wasn't gonna like anybody you went out with," Kenny conceded, tilting his head. Kyle's eyelids fluttered, ready to shut, before he felt Kenny's nose brushing his. Eskimo kisses. This boy, good grief. "But, yeah, I didn't like him. All tall and blond and crazy about you."

"You're tall and blond and crazy about me," Kyle said, rolling his eyes.

"I was your first kiss." Pride rumbled in that statement, and Kyle felt his face burning under Kenny's stare. "You kissed me back."

"You kissed me first."

"You kissed me back," Kenny said, breath warm on Kyle's face, so close Kyle was going cross-eyed looking at him. "That was when I knew."

Half of that sentence came out right against Kyle's mouth, and even as Kenny's lips claimed a proper kiss, Kyle couldn't help asking, "Knew what?"

But he knew what Kenny meant. He knew it in his toes, curling in his shoes, and in his fingertips, which had abandoned Kenny's hand to climb up and thread themselves in his sunshine hair. They kissed again before Kenny murmured his reply. 

"That I wasn't ever getting over you."

"Kenny—" Kyle's fingers twisted up in his shaggy hair, due for a cut, and pulled Kenny closer. Willed Kenny's lips to cut him off from saying anything more, saying anything stupid. Say it again. The words were on the tip of his tongue, and he pressed his mouth harder against Kenny's to stifle them.

That intensity, that burning blue fire that was Kenny's alone, was contagious. In sober moments Kyle would admit that it scared him. That a month ago, he'd introduced Kenny as his best friend, and only two weeks ago he realized he might like Kenny even more than that, and now. Now.

Now he knew Kenny loved him, it was out there in the universe, in words, in everything. And the moment Kenny let that confession slip, Kyle's heart could have burst it felt so good to hear it. Scary, but good, and then scary because it was good. Kenny was right; being in love after two weeks wasn't normal. It was too fast and too much, too intense. But real. So real Kyle was afraid Kenny could taste reciprocation on his lips. Say it again.

The sound of a third set of keys in the front door lock pricked Kyle's ear, and he pushed off of Kenny gasping for air like he'd been underwater. A minute later, Stan walked in, and Kyle's fingers twitched for his ushanka, wanting to pull it down over his wild hair and flushed cheeks. Kenny beside him had relaxed into complete normalcy, looking every bit the choir boy he wasn't and not at all the unfairly talented kisser he was.

Ready to sputter his excuses, Kyle was shocked when he looked up at Stan's glowing smile. "Hey, guys," he said, reaching into his pocket. "I couldn't help it. I saw it in the window and...man, I just had to have it!"

"What?" Kenny and Kyle asked automatically, both of them already following Stan's hand as it pulled out a little velvet box. He popped the lid, and a marquis diamond cushioned in the center of a band studded in tiny diamonds winked at them under the lamplight.

"It's official, dudes," Stan said. "I'm gonna ask Wendy to marry me!"

Chapter Text

Stripe had been a present from his parents the first day Craig set foot on Coloradoan soil. The adoption process had been a lot of paperwork and other legal back-and-forth that, at nine, Craig didn't really understand anyway. Then his parents flew to Peru to meet him and take him back to his new home. His mother spoke impeccable Spanish and was able to tell him that they lived near the Rocky Mountains where there was lots of snow, and that they had hoped he liked blue because that was the color they painted his bedroom. His father spoke elementary Spanish and told him, roughly, "My name is Thomas. I am very smart." He'd pronounced inteligente "in-telly-jenty," but eventually Craig found that his father's knowledge with computers more than made up for his struggles with languages.

The guinea pig had been a gift that was his well-meaning new father's idea, though his mother had to translate that to Craig, and was like a confidant, someone just as new to this home as he was. That first year required some home schooling and private tutors to get Craig's English up to par, and it was lucky he was a little kid at the time because he picked it up much faster than his father did with Spanish to converse back. Having a little sister to practice talking to helped, too. His parents hadn't been quite sure what to make of the markings on his arms, though Ruby, in a voice much deeper than Craig had expected from a first-grader, said "Bueno" when he showed her.

Craig used to coo to Stripe in Spanish before he really got the hang of his second language. It wasn't that he didn't like being a Tucker. Anything was better than the ruin those monsters left in their wake, the nightmares tattooed on the backs of his eyelids every time Craig blinked. He wondered if his old parents were really killed by la muerte peluda or if it had been his own inability to control his powers. Everything was a blur. Just a baby himself, Stripe fit in the palm of Craig's hand.

To see him cradled in Tweek's trembling hands hollowed out Craig's chest. His first priority was calming Tweek, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Craig was amazed that Tweek let him brush the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs and hold him close, Stripe sheltered between them. Tweek managed to tell Craig that he hadn't realized anything was wrong when he first got home, but then he thought Stripe was unusually quiet and brought him carrot sticks.

"I'm sorry," Tweek kept repeating. Not the comforting sorry people offered in times like this, but a raw apology, as if he'd killed Craig's pet himself. "I'm so sorry, Craig, I'm sorry."

Craig wasn't sure how much time passed before he'd soothed Tweek's crying, but he heard the shift in tone from one apology to the next. Soon the mantra of "I'm sorry" was for falling apart.

"He was your pet, and you're comforting me," Tweek said into the tear-dampened collar of Craig's jacket.

"He was your pet, too," Craig said, "and it's nice to know I'm not the only one who cares this much about a guinea pig."

Tweek helped Craig wrap Stripe up in an old Red Racer tee shirt, and they rested him in his cage for the night. Craig insisted he was fine to sleep alone, but Tweek stared up at him, then carefully reached up with both hands, rubbing awkwardly under Craig's eyes with his fingertips; it was the first that Craig had registered of wetness in his eyes, and once he was aware, his vision blurred all at once. They didn't eat dinner. Instead they left the lights on and laid across from one another on Craig's bed, open and closed parentheses staring at the unspoken words between them and wiping each other's silent tears whenever they spilled over. In the morning, Craig called a vet to take the body.

Without ever discussing it, neither of them mentioned Stripe to the rest of the bullpen. There wasn't so much as a whisper that anything was wrong in their lives. Craig knew that Clyde knew something was wrong. His empathetic sixth sense was ridiculously accurate and frequently embarrassing. Craig remembered one night in their freshman dorm, maybe a month after they'd started hanging around Tweek more, he'd told Clyde that he was going to fight Tweek.

"That's not it, Craig," Clyde had yawned back. "Try again in the morning."

Clyde knew better than to open a conversation about feelings with Craig in front of other people, but the guy had more tells than a library had books. Kyle frowned at his incessant twitching but didn't ask what was wrong. Token was at Jimmy's, but he probably would have done the same, used to Clyde. Again without discussing it out loud, Tweek and Craig both started packing up a little earlier and skirted out of the office before anyone else. Even before they reached the elevator, Tweek had slipped his hand into Craig's.

They stopped at the supermarket, Craig staring straight ahead even as the Peruvian panflute band camped outside the store faltered in their playing when he and Tweek passed them on the way in. Craig steered the carriage lazily behind Tweek, who power-walked up and down the aisles grabbing food on auto-pilot, barely looking up from his list. They finally paused in the midst of the cereal aisle, which had apparently been rearranged recently, and Tweek muttered to himself looking over their grocery list while Craig hovered over his shoulder. In Tweek's crooked scrawl, Craig read a few staples like bread and milk, followed by ingredients for nearly all of Craig's favorite dinners. He rested his chin on top of Tweek's head and blew gently on the tufts of hair that tickled his chin and lips.

"Any thoughts on what we should bring for Decembiving?" Tweek asked.

"Stop buying into Clyde's dumb portmanteaus," Craig mumbled affectionately. Clyde had proposed doing a belated Thanksgiving potluck at Jimmy's once he was more settled in at his apartment the next week, and smashed together "December" and "Thanksgiving" to christen the event.

"Well! Ngh, everybody'll be Thanksgiving shopping this week, and I really don't wanttogetcaughtupinit."

Craig's eyes happened to flicker up at that moment and catch sight of a bright red mass further down the cereal aisle. He hardened like a statue, and Tweek squeaked beneath him, taking a step back so that his back was pressed to Craig's chest, Craig almost draped over him with none of the casualness that came easily to someone like Kenny.

"Whatisit?"

"Is that...?" His tattoos burned from his wrists all the way up to his collarbones, his eyes electric with anger, and Craig shut his eyes for a moment, willing it down, wondering if the band out front could feel the current coursing through his bones. At the other end of the aisle was a face Craig would never forget, that jackass who'd put Jimmy in the hospital and came after Kyle and Kenny. Craig's last memory of the guy was Tweek sending searing-hot coffee up into his face and Token pinning him to the ground expertly, but those pleasant thoughts fled at the sight of him waddling down the aisle with a carriage full of sugary snacks and red meat.

Cartman had spotted them as well by now, judging from how his face went as red as his winter jacket. He drove his carriage with such power and speed that Craig had to brace his hands against the handle of their cart to ensure it didn't ricochet into Tweek's stomach when Cartman crashed into them. "You!" Cartman snarled. "You're those asshole reporters who work with Kahl."

"Kahl?" Craig echoed, hyper aware of Tweek trembling against him. The tremors were tight, constrained, and Craig knew without looking that Tweek's alarm had melted into anger that matched his.

"Heard you're in cahoots with Kinny now." Cartman sneered as he reached out and grabbed three boxes of marshmallow-based cereal. Craig squinted at his accent. 'Kyle' and 'Kenny,' his brain corrected a second later. "Now you're trying to take over the superhero scene? God, is everyone in Denver this full of themselves? When are guys like you and Kinny gonna figure out it takes more than public indecency and a sissy boyfriend to be a hero?"

Craig's knuckles went white around the carriage handle, and he shoved it forward, pushing Cartman's carriage back into his gut, which swelled around his handle like a balloon. He made a sound like letting the air out of a balloon to match, and Craig felt a quick surge of satisfaction before Tweek's hands slipped over his and pulled the carriage back towards them and away from Cartman's.

"Craig, don't, you'll get in trouble," he whispered.

"Yeah, Craig, you'll get in trouble," Cartman said, pitching up his voice. Tweek glared at him, glanced around the otherwise-empty aisle, and flipped him off. Craig exhaled a laugh through his nose, proud of the move he knew Tweek had picked up from him. "Ay!"

"How'd you get out of prison again?" Craig asked Cartman.

Cartman waved his hand. "Let me tell you losers something: the Coon never forgets. And the Coon's wrath knows no peer." He glowered at them. "A supermarket isn't a fitting venue for our rematch—our fair rematch, Mr. Hot Coffee Distraction Tactics—but you can bet it's coming."

"I'm sorry, were you fighting fair when you put Jimmy in the hospital?" Craig growled. He felt Tweek gently pressing his palms against the backs of Craig's hands and licked his lips, taking a breath to compose himself. "Or how about when you threatened Kyle to keep Kenny at a disadvantage?"

"Who the hell is Jimmy?" Cartman asked, and Tweek's nails dug into the outer curves of Craig's hands when he immediately reared up. The reaction seemed to please Cartman. "And I don't need an underhanded advantage over the poor kid, I can kick his ass any day of the week. If he's gonna be a wimp because his precious Kahl might get hurt, that's not my problem."

"From what I saw, Kenny didn't even need to fight you since Kyle handed your ass to you himself," Craig said. "But I'd still put money on Kenny."

"That why you're taking him out for long, romantic walks in the snow?" Cartman sneered. Tweek stilled against Craig for a split-second; Cartman didn't seem to notice, but Craig felt it in the pit of his stomach. He followed his boyfriend's lead and flipped Cartman off, though he didn't look around first. "Whatever, Craig! All you newsroom hacks love Mysterion, but this isn't over. Just wait."

Cartman bumped their carriage with his one last time before pulling around them and storming past. After a second, Tweek and Craig exchanged looks.

"Think we should call Kyle? Warn him and Kenny?" Craig asked.

Tweek paused for a second, only a second, and Craig fought down the urge to chase after Cartman and pummel him, repercussions be damned, for planting that seed of anxiety. "Yeah," Tweek said finally. "I think we should."

Chapter Text

When Tweek and Craig told Kyle about running into Cartman at the grocery store, he didn't say anything. His eyes creased with tiredness, totally unsurprised; Clyde made up for the lack of reaction, his whole face crumpling at the news.

"How...?" he'd asked. "After what he did to Jimmy..." They'd all agreed not to tell Jimmy until after he was fully recovered and back in the office.

Decembiving started off as a Thursday night dinner, then turned into a Friday night dinner so they wouldn't have to end the party early to get home for work in the morning, and when it actually happened it turned into a weekend event. Nobody had thought to assign who should bring what, so they ended up with Tweek and Craig's cheese and cracker plate, Clyde's ice cream cake, Token's bottle of wine, Stan and Kenny's chips and salsa, and Kyle's sweet potato casserole. Horrified, Kyle insisted on going to the grocery store for more food, so they all kicked in ten bucks and watched Kyle roast turkey, bake eggplant and asparagus, and prep stuffing on the stovetop. It was the best dinner Tweek had ever had, and he thought about the untouched spinach and kale recipe Kyle had given him.

As the wine bottle grew lighter and their party grew louder, Tweek watched Jimmy stretched out on the couch smiling at everyone. His bruises had faded, and he was able to get up and around his apartment better. He'd be back to the office Monday, and then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to Clyde's Secret Santa and the holidays. Tweek propped his chin up on his hand while the group animatedly discussed the Broncos over Jimmy's coffee table. He knew Craig had Jimmy, he had Kyle, and they both had yet to go shopping.

Maybe now was the perfect time to generate gift ideas. To observe Kyle, consider what would be a good gift for the newest addition to the bullpen. Tweek let his eyes flicker over to Kyle, who was washing pots and pans in the sink in Jimmy's kitchenette. Kenny hovered over him, swaying from a glass too many of wine, arms looped around his waist, nose buried in Kyle's mess of curls. Nobody else was paying them any mind, too invested in the conversation at hand, but the way Kyle continued scrubbing pans without faltering under Kenny's weight and occasionally wiggled in Kenny's grip to keep his hands from wandering suggested this wasn't the first time they'd been in this position.

Not for the first time, Tweek envied Kyle. Not in a green-eyed monster way that would spoil their friendship; just a quiet longing in the pit of his stomach, envy that contentedness didn't invite its own brand of anxiety for Kyle. Tweek imagined standing at his own apartment's sink cleaning a coffeepot with Craig wrapped around him for a long, uninterrupted period, and his heart pounded not with romance but with nerves that rolled up from his stomach. It was such a nice thought, something couples did, something Tweek wanted and knew Craig would do if he asked. In fact, only a few weeks back, Craig had done so unasked, wrapping Tweek up in a blanket for all of thirty seconds before the tremors kicked in and Tweek pushed him away. It wasn't romantic to hold someone who shook like a junkie, who squawked and twitched and blinked too much. He knew it didn't matter to Craig; more than once, in his soft monotone, he had told Tweek that he cared about him just the way he was, that moving slowly was okay. He really was okay with waiting a year to hold hands, Jesus. But it mattered to Tweek. It mattered that he felt things for Craig, wanted things from Craig, for Craig, and that he himself was the barrier keeping them at bay.

Tweek had been thinking more and more about asking a doctor for help. That was scary, too, and he looked down into the glass of wine Token had poured him an hour ago, still untouched, trembling in his hand. Some days he felt like he was willing himself better, that all he needed was to hold Craig's hand to feel the ground leveling under his feet. Touching was easier, talking was easier. Everything was better. Other days, Craig's steadfast love made no sense to him, was unasked-for pressure pushing down on Tweek as he struggled to keep his balance on a craggy mountainside, and the tremors were worse and the noises were worse and the anxiety was so, so much worse. Tweek closed his eyes, imagining a different life where Craig's tattoos curled around him with affection and Tweek could laugh and lean into his hold the way Kyle did with Kenny. Where kissing and saying I love you and a thousand other wishes Tweek kept in a jar in his heart were actually possible.

The bullpen spent the night at Jimmy's. At some point in the wee hours of Saturday morning, somebody yawned and kicked off a chain-reaction, Jimmy assured them they were all welcome to stay, and the Berber carpets disappeared under a sea of sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, cushions, and bodies fit together like Tetris blocks. Late Saturday morning, Tweek was the first to wake up and extracted himself from the pile of snoring bodies to pad off to the kitchen. He rooted through Jimmy's cabinets in search of coffee and found none, no Keurig cups, no Keurig period, not even a coffeepot.

With his back to the living room, Tweek felt a shiver climbing up his spine, pause, and retreat back down. He sighed when he turned around to face Craig, hovering silently in the doorway to the kitchenette.

"Jimmy doesn't do caffeine," Craig said.

"Lucky, ngh, bastard," Tweek replied. Craig's eyes crinkled in the corners, though his lips barely twitched, and again Tweek's insides twisted in conflict with themselves. He could hug Craig right now, take the two strides to cross the kitchenette from the sink to the doorway and curl up in Craig's protective shadow, but he knew it was a bad day. It wasn't like the night he'd traced Craig's tattoos all the way up his arms; all of Tweek's courage had drained out of him in the night.

"There's a Harbucks on the main street a few blocks down," Craig said. "I'll take you."

Craig couldn't drive, and Tweek knew that 'I'll take you' meant Craig would walk him. The snow had finally stopped flying. When Tweek hazarded a look out Jimmy's kitchen window, he could see a sheet of pristine white covering the ground below.

"We should, ngh, wait for, geh, everybodyelsetowakeup," Tweek said, hurrying through his sentence to get to the part where his stupid screechy voice wasn't happening anymore. Craig held his gaze, and Tweek knew his boyfriend recognized a bad day ahead, too. He lifted his arm, long enough to span the gap between them, and ghosted his knuckles along Tweek's jawline.

Tweek wanted to kiss him in the worst way. To bypass the slow build his nerves could take altogether. He wanted—he wanted—

"Nah," Craig said. "Let's go to Harbucks and go home."

Jimmy came out from his bedroom, his feet dragging audibly on the carpet as he approached them. "G-Good morning, guys."

"Hey, dude, how you doing?" Craig asked, turning his attention over. Jimmy shrugged and replied with some joke Tweek half-registered. "We're gonna head out. Keep an eye on Clyde for me, though. He drank a lot."

Tweek and Craig climbed over everyone else, still snoring and sprawled out across Jimmy's floor. Tweek glanced down at Kyle as they passed him; Kyle had insisted Stan sleep between him and Kenny the night before, not nearly as subtly as Tweek suspected he'd thought he was being, because of impropriety or something. Stan had acquiesced reluctantly, and even now his sleeping face seemed troubled. He was lying on his back, arms crossed over his own chest like a mummy, while Kyle and Kenny curled up against either side of him facing each other, as if they'd inched closer to one another in the night in spite of their assigned moral guardian. Tweek hadn't placed a friend between himself and Craig on the floor the night before and wondered what Kyle thought of that.

It was cold outside, but not windy or snowing, and considering how late in the morning it was, Tweek was surprised at how quiet he found the streets of Denver. He and Craig ended up heading for the car, which Craig brushed off, and driving to the Harbucks near their own apartment on their way home.

"Tweek, I want to talk to you about something," Craig said, and the immediate alarm that rose in the back of Tweek's throat nearly made him swerve on the road. "Nothing bad," Craig added hurriedly, his expression almost apologetic when Tweek glanced over. "I want...to talk about Peru."

"Okay," Tweek said, still unable to shake his trepidation. "What about Peru?"

"I want to talk when we get home," Craig said. "It's not really. Easy to talk about. But I want to, with you."

The urge to be sick wavered in Tweek's mind. As he slowed at the next red light, he let his right hand slip from the two o'clock position on his wheel and held it out for Craig's hand. They only had a few seconds before the light changed and Tweek retracted it for safe driving.

"I get Kenny," Craig said. Tweek barely had time to register what Craig meant when he continued. "Like, not wanting to tell Kyle things because he thought he was protecting him. But bad things happened to Kyle anyway. There's no protecting people you love by keeping secrets."

A tremor ran through Tweek's arms, his hands rattling on the steering wheel. "Craig, ngh, you're kindoffreakingmeout."

"I'm sorry," Craig said immediately. "Just...we almost broke up over bad communication once before. I don't want to make that mistake again."

"Okay," Tweek said, squeezing his eyes shut for a second at the next red light. "Okay. Just, ngh...let me get my coffee. We'll go home, and we'll talk. We've got all weekend."

"Yeah," Craig murmured, looking out the window. "All weekend."

Chapter Text

Tweek was used to people calling him a nervous wreck. That had been his honorary title his whole life, along with a slew of meaner variations. Even his parents said it. The first time they met Craig, his father actually said, "You know, we always thought he was just a spaz, but now we know that he's got more going on inside." Craig hadn't liked that. Tweek remembered him pacing around their dorm room for a good hour after his parents left.

Unwilling though he was to admit it, Tweek knew he panicked over things nobody else worried about. For a long time, he'd thought maybe he was just a spaz. When your parents label you as something, you internalize it in a deeper, stronger way than you would if anyone else said it.

Today, though, faced with information that would rightly bring any normal person to a nervous wreck state, Tweek felt inordinately calm. He sat on one end of the upright futon, back against the armrest, knees pulled up to his chest, Harbucks cup cradled in his hands. Craig sat on the other side of the futon, back to the other armrest, one leg folded under him, the other dangling off the edge of the futon, foot stretched out towards Tweek. Blowing on his coffee, Tweek listened as Craig talked.

La muerte paluda. Giant monsters that resembled guinea pigs, who crawled up from the underworld and wreaked havoc wherever they went. That were held back by Peruvian panflute music. That could only be defeated by a prophesized child's mystical powers. Said child being Craig.

It should have terrified Tweek. It really should have. But listening to Craig, fear was the furthest thing from his mind. There were points in his story where Craig's voice would trail off, and he'd struggle to continue until Tweek assured him he didn't have to talk about anything he didn't want to.

"It burned." Craig shut his eyes and was still for a few moments. "It was like my eyes were on fire, and there was no water, no way to put them out. As long as the guinea creatures were near, my powers were turned on, and I had to fire at them. If I turned my head even a little too far in one direction..." An even longer pause. "Adults were just pointing me at these things. I wasn't any sort of savior. I was a tool. I destroyed everything I touched." Something in the weight of those words told Tweek that Craig had never said this aloud before, and it was a long time before he spoke again.

Tweek could fill in the gaps: how it must have felt for a nine-year-old to have that burden on him and lose control of it, the fear that he caused as much destruction as the monsters. When Craig admitted that he'd started feeling his powers surging again, the only fear Tweek felt was for his boyfriend's well-being. Craig wasn't a particularly energetic person, but he sounded downright exhausted when he said he felt it coming closer.

"The increase in the bands, the burning in my eyes, my tattoos..." Craig looked down at his arms, pushing up his sweatshirt sleeves. The markings that wound up his arms had always been attractive to Tweek, but in light of what they symbolized for Craig, they were hard to look at. "That's what saved me last time."

"Saved you?"

"Focusing on the markings." Craig turned his arms so that their undersides faced up towards the ceiling. "When I lost control. I was able to power down by concentrating on the tattoos. The lines, the patterns. They brought my mind back to me."

That scared Tweek. Craig being some kind of savior puppet was bad enough, but the thought of his being turned into a mindless savior puppet against his will was unbearable. It was even worse to think of that burden being his in childhood.

"I talked to Kenny a little while ago," Craig continued, his voice still low but less morose. "I was hoping he'd have answers. That he'd know something about powers and control." He shook his head. "That's what finally made me want to tell you all this. Kenny didn't have anything figured out, and he kept it from Kyle, and look what happened. I might as well tell you what I'm up against, in case..." Craig's midnight eyes flashed up to Tweek's face, his lips pressed into a thin line. He hadn't meant to say that, Tweek could tell. Because he didn't want to upset Tweek with the elephant in the room: In case you get caught up in this.

"I'm glad you told me." Glad that Craig was honest, that they were communicating, that they were a team. Not glad about Craig's childhood trauma or the fact that those demons were coming back for him, that they were in danger and the pressure of saving the world rested solely on Craig's shoulders, or that Tweek could find himself held hostage the way Kyle had been if it meant hurting his super-powered boyfriend.

"Listen." Craig's eyes steeled. "I don't want to break up."

The swerve in conversation took Tweek aback. "Uh...neither do I?"

"But I understand," Craig continued in a rush, "if this is a lot, or if I'm asking too much of you. If you'll be safer somewhere else—"

"Gah! Cutitout, Craig! I'm not going anywhere." Tweek wound a lock of hair around his index finger and pulled. "I'll be careful, okay? But I'm not leaving you over...guinea pigs!"

Craig blinked in slow motion, then snorted. "That's one way of putting it," he said, chuckling.

Tweek wondered if he should tell Craig he was considering seeing a doctor about his twitching and outbursts, but then he worried it sounded like he was trying to equate their problems. Oh, you have ancient powers and have to fight world-threatening monsters by yourself? I shake and make funny noises, and it would be cool if I didn't. They weren't equal, yet Tweek got the sense that if he did say something, Craig would consider them equal, if not prioritize Tweek's issue. It wasn't the time.

In the weeks that followed, Tweek's anxiety fluctuated. Generally as long as Craig was around, he felt fine, at least as far as killer guinea pigs went. Other times he curled up under his comforter and squeezed his eyes shut until the shaking subsided, willing himself not to grunt and shriek, almost always unsuccessfully. On good nights, he would hover by Craig's doorway and ask if he could stay in his room with him. There was safety in being able to rest his forehead on Craig's collarbone and comfort in his slow and steady breathing. Tweek felt a pang of guilt when Craig agreed to let him stay in his room, a little bit because they barely fit together on Craig's twin mattress, but mostly because Craig always said yes right away, sometimes faster than Tweek could get the question out. This was something Craig liked, but Tweek couldn't do it all the time. Tweek wondered if Craig was so eager because of how long they'd been together without doing any of the things most couples did. He worried even more than usual that he was depriving Craig of a good relationship.

Craig came up to him one night with aninternet browser open comparing brightly-colored pads that attached to the armrests and grips on crutches to make them more comfortable. "I thought these might be nice for Jimmy, for the swap," he said. Tweek rested his chin on Craig's shoulder while he clicked through wild colors and patterns. When Craig scrolled to one that had laughing emojis all over it, he and Tweek said "That one" at the same time.

Tweek asked for his help picking out his swap gift as well. Kitchen gifts seemed to be a safe bet for something Kyle would enjoy and get a lot of use out of, so Tweek drove them to Bed Bath and Beyond, where they promptly got lost and a little overwhelmed with home goods. They didn't have most of the appliances at the store in their own apartment, and Tweek latched onto Craig's sleeve when they passed the luxury models that ran up to five hundred dollars. Craig's visibility was better from his height, and he steered them into the smaller kitchen tools and gifts section for Tweek to browse. Eventually he settled on a set of potholders with expletive symbols on them. They seemed to suit Kyle's personality. When Tweek held them up over his head to show Craig over the display of mixers between them, Craig flashed him a thumbs-up. Tweek figured he couldn't be on the wrong track if Craig backed him up.

On their way out, they passed a Peruvian panflute band setting up outside of the strip mall. Tweek shivered when the musicians' gaze snapped to Craig. They didn't say a word, but their stony expressions followed Tweek and Craig to the edge of the parking lot. 

A thought struck Tweek, and he grabbed the elbow of Craig's sleeve, bringing him to an immediate halt. "Should we buy one?" he asked. "One of their CDs? Would that help?" Craig stiffened, red blotches appearing on the crests of his cheekbones, and Tweek backpedaled. "We don't have to! Ngh! I just thoughtitmighthelp, geh, if we had themusicwithus—"

Craig's face fell. He stepped closer to Tweek, the fabrics of their winter jackets brushing, and reached up to cup his face in both hands. Out of nowhere, a harsh tremor ran through Tweek's body, and Craig dropped his hands and backed off immediately, hurt crossing his face before he could mask it. Tweek closed his eyes.

The swap was certainly interesting. Everyone seemed to have gone the home goods route. Clyde presented Tweek with a chrome coffee mug tree, Jimmy gave Token a kitchen stand for his iPad that also stored utensils, Token gave Clyde a magazine rack that Tweek suspected was real mahogany, and Kyle gave Craig a cosmos projector lamp. Tweek ducked his head to hide his smile when Craig clutched the box in his hands, lips pressed together, eyes lit up. Kyle seemed to pick up on the success of his gift and beamed when Craig managed a terse "Thank you."

The next week was the week of Christmas, so Clyde and Token were both taking time off. Jimmy wanted to stay in the office to catch up on his work, though Victoria herself swung by to let him know he could work just as well from home if that was easier, and he agreed due to the already daunting insanity of traveling around the holidays. When it was just the three of them left for the last few days before Christmas, Tweek noticed how easy it was to work with just the three of them. Clyde teased them for being the weird half, but Tweek had his doubts.

When Craig got up for a meeting with P.C. on photography to go with his latest op-ed, he groaned, "Don't wait up," and Tweek and Kyle both shot him sympathetic smiles. The bullpen was nearly empty, but Tweek appreciated having the warmth of Kyle's shoulder occasionally bumping his as they worked side-by-side.

"Do Chanukah and Christmas usually overlap?" Tweek asked. He'd never paid Chanukah much mind in his calendars or day planners before but knew when it fell this year because Kyle was taking a few days off.

"Not usually, but sometimes." Kyle smiled wryly. "I'm staying in Denver with Kenny during Chanukah this year. It's making my mom crazy. She told me she's transferring gelt into my bank account, and I'm like, Mom, don't deposit ten dollars into my account, I am an adult."

Tweek laughed. "You and Kenny are back to normal?" Kyle jerked away slightly, and Tweek groaned. "OhJesussorry, that's none of my—"

"We're okay," Kyle said, looking back down at the printout he was copyediting, bleeding with red ink already. "Um..." He fidgeted with his pen, turning shy. "Kenny said he loves me."

Tweek's throat constricted when he thought back to the first time Craig said he loved him, more than a year into their relationship and halfway through a fight. "Oh! Wow."

"I mean...I think I already knew," Kyle admitted. His attention never left the red pen he was now spinning between his fingers. "Even though we just got together...I mean, those feelings were there before."

"Sure, ngh."

Don't be jealous. Don't be bitter. Push it down. Tweek couldn't help it, though, the green envy bubbling in his stomach at Kyle's smile, soft and fluttering like a butterfly. Kyle wasn't a train wreck so Kenny didn't have to hide his feelings. Their relationship didn't take baby steps forward once every six months. Tweek bet when Kenny confessed it was absurdly romantic, just like everything seemed to be for those two, and that they tangled themselves up in hugs and kisses and private whispers while Peter Gabriel played in the background.

Tweek stared down into his coffee mug guiltily. He really was a mess.

"Does it ever scare you?" he asked. In his peripheral vision, he could see Kyle look up. "Dating a...well, a superhero?"

Kyle paused, then chuckled. "Well, his superpower is not being able to die, which takes some of the pressure off." His smile stiffened for a second, but Tweek blinked and it was gone. "But sometimes I wonder if it's not indefinite immortality. If he gets, like, a hundred resurrections before death becomes permanent."

Even immortality was scary, then, Tweek supposed.

"But does it make you feel, ngh, helpless?" he pressed. Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Like how youweretakencaptive to hurt Kenny. Don't you worry about being, geh, like...an Achilles' Heel?"

Kyle's dark eyes flared up, and Tweek squeaked his distress. Oh, Jesus, he'd made him mad. The babble of apologies flooded out of him until Kyle held up a hand for quiet. "You don't have to apologize, Tweek, it's not you I'm mad at. It's that piece of shit, Cartman." Kyle brought his hand down to his desktop, his palm slapping solidly against it. "I hate that I let my guard down, especially around him." Venom poisoned Kyle's voice. "But don't forget that it wasn't Kenny who put Fatass on his fat ass." He held out a fist, and after a moment of sheer terror, Tweek realized Kyle was initiating a fist bump. Tentatively, he returned it. "It was you and me."

Tweek wanted to add Craig. He couldn't have done it without Craig. And Clyde and Token, who helped keep Kyle safe and Cartman down until the police could cuff him. But the idea of Kyle and him being a team felt too important. Too significant. That two guys in relationships with superheroes had taken out a villain. That they weren't in distress, weren't helpless. If the world was coming to an end, maybe Craig and Kenny were the front line of defense, but he and Kyle didn't have to be hidden safely in the back, guarded, liabilities. They could fight, too.

When Tweek sighed, it came out more heavily than he intended. Kyle's smile softened around his eyes, his fire dimming from destruction to warmth. Tweek wished he had fire and was glad Kyle's was contagious. At best, Tweek might have had electricity, an unpredictable wavelength coursing through his veins.

Then again, all a fire needed to start was a spark.

Chapter Text

As soon as Karen's phone chirped receipt of a text message, she had her duffel bag over her shoulder and was out of her dorm room. She didn't check it until she hit the elevator—Kenny's predictably no-frills Here—and met her brother outside the building.

"Hey, you're actually here on time," Karen teased when she hugged him. Kenny grabbed her duffel bag and threw it over his own shoulder. "Kyle made you leave ten minutes early, didn't he?"

"You know it," Kenny said. "It's really quiet here."

"A lot of people have already left for the break. Thanks again for letting me stay with you guys. I know it's a lot."

"Are you kidding? Of course you can stay with us. Anytime." Kenny glanced around as they made their way to the bus stop. "I meant it's, uh...quiet without any music. I've gotten so used to hearing those Peruvian bands around the city." His brow furrowed. "They don't have any around here?"

"Oh, there used to be tons, but public safety's moved them along when they try coming onto campus." Karen shrugged. "I think they're getting moved along all over the place, actually. People are starting to complain about all the noise. I heard a bunch of them don't have permission to perform in the subways and stuff, they just show up. That's probably why they're cracking down."

"Can't play music for everyone's enjoyment in public places?" Kenny asked. 

Karen raised her eyebrows. "Not when you're asking for money or selling stuff. You know that, Kenny, we tried." It had been Kenny's idea to start a band at the bus stop, after all. Their local officer had been very nice about telling them they had to go home. "You need a permit. Taxation and all."

"I know," Kenny said. He ran both hands through his hair as they arrived at the bus stop, Karen's bag slipping on his shoulder. "I just wish there were some bands around here."

"You like flute music that much?" He didn't answer.

When they arrived at Kenny's apartment, it was already warm with the aroma of dinner, and Stan and Kyle were bickering in the living room.

"I'm going to throw up."

"You're not going to throw up, relax. She's going to say yes."

They stopped when they realized Karen had arrived, and both jumped up to hug her. Kenny carried her duffel bag into Stan's room. "I'm off to South Park until after New Year's anyway," Stan said. "There's no way we're putting you on the couch. You're crashing on a bed."

"And don't worry," Kenny added, returning with Stan's suitcase rolling behind him. "Kyle spent the whole afternoon supervising Stan clean his room. It's pristine." Kyle's hands snapped to his hips, and Kenny chuckled and started backpedaling.

"My dad texted that he's close, so I'm heading downstairs to meet him," Stan said, reaching for his suitcase. "Don't have too much fun without me, okay?"

"We're getting Chinese food and going to the movies," Kenny told Karen. She pumped her fist.

"Ugh, Chinese food sounds so good," Stan groaned. "I'm gonna ask if we can have that for dinner tonight."

"Tell Mr. Lu Kim that Dennis says hi," Kenny said.

Karen thought back to Kenny's years at City Wok, starting part-time before, Karen was pretty sure, he was legally old enough to work and escalating to full-time after graduation. Mr. Lu Kim never did get his name right, even though it was printed correctly on all his paychecks, but at least he'd always appreciated her brother's hard work. Kenny never came home just smelling like City Chicken; he'd have a doggy bag of something left over from the day's work. Sometimes their parents would come through for a bite, but usually they stayed on the couch or fought in their room, and Kevin had long since moved out. Karen sent birthday cards to the Albuquerque address he left; the last one returned to sender.

Most nights, though, it was just her and Kenny picking over City Beef and broccoli, Karen doing her homework, Kenny telling stories about Kyle and Stan until he had to leave for his next job. Moving to Denver, Karen figured she'd never eat Chinese food again, but truth be told, she missed it. She'd dragged Ruby all over the city trying out different Chinese food places, and they'd found a lot of good restaurants, but none of them had the same sticky City Sauce or overcooked City Rice. Her mouth watered enviously at Stan's dinner plans.

She wondered which restaurant they'd go to on Christmas while Kyle finished making their dinner for that night. Kenny bounced between them, flopping on the couch with Karen to ask about school and her latest design and wandering the kitchenette asking if he could help and inevitably getting in Kyle's way. Over dinner, Kyle asked her about finals and listened with as much rapt attention as Kenny while she discussed her papers and tests.

"Plus I won a scholarship from the midterm show," she said. A shadow crossed both Kenny's and Kyle's faces, and she pressed on to avoid revisiting Cartman's involvement. "That'll be a huge relief for you," she added, putting a hand on her brother's knee and shaking him.

"Yes, I'm hugely relieved that they appreciate you and recognize your star power," Kenny said, puffing up. Karen rolled her eyes. She knew that her brother was already running up student loans putting her through college, even with the money he saved for three whole years after high school. Thank goodness she got the scholarship. She'd been researching independent scholarships online as well, writing essays on Catcher in the Rye and environmentalism in a painstaking effort to wrack up an extra few hundred wherever she could. So far, no bites, but Karen was hoping winter break would give her a chance to plug away at more essay contests.

The three of them ended up watching a movie, Karen's pick. She chose a cult classic chick flick as a joke, though they all ended up really enjoying it. They balanced their dinner plates in their laps, chicken and mozzarella paninis with homemade pesto, and crowded around Kyle's laptop, a high-end model Karen couldn't help ogling, though she hoped it wasn't obvious. Ruby had a fancy computer, too, and always let Karen use it when the refurbished laptop she and Kenny had tracked down online started overheating.

"My family doesn't have a lot," Karen had admitted the first time she used Ruby's laptop. She'd flushed with embarrassment she'd never experienced in South Park where everyone knew the McCormicks were dirt poor.

"Neither does mine," Ruby said without judgement. "My brother and his boyfriend bought me the laptop instead of getting themselves a couch that didn't come from Ikea. They're kind of stupid, but I guess I shouldn't complain."

It sounded like the kind of thing Kenny would do, and Karen tried not to notice the general niceness of Kyle's things. She was going to focus on scholarships.

When the movie was over, Karen and Kenny insisted on doing the dishes since Kyle cooked. After a few minutes of squabbling, Kenny and Kyle agreed that Karen shouldn't have to do dishes, and she got sent to Stan's room. It really was neat as a pin, and everything smelled vaguely of lilac air freshener. Karen's duffel bag had been placed beside a drafting table covered in tracing paper and half-finished sketches of what looked like an upscale lounge. She pulled out an extra-long tee shirt, an old one of Kenny's she'd stolen, and put it on as a nightshirt.

The bed was made up with soft white sheets. At the foot was folded a patchwork quilt Karen recognized as one of Stan's mom's handmade creations, and on the pillow was a little bag of chocolate coins. Karen took a step backwards to peek around the door frame. Though the hallway wall obstructed her view a little, she could see her brother's back and hear the water running in the sink. Kyle stood at the counter, divvying up leftovers into plastic containers. When Kenny turned off the water and moved to drying, she could make out a little of their conversation.

"—panflute bands," Kenny said.

"I'd say it sounds like hogwash," Kyle said, "except we've seen some shit...and besides, consider the source."

"He wouldn't lie about something like this, would he?" Kenny asked. Curiosity piqued, Karen padded out into the hall. The cheap carpet was scratchy against the soles of her bare feet.

"No way." Kyle exhaled through his nose. "Hmm..."

"What?"

"Well, I had...kind of a weird conversation with Tweek yesterday. I wonder if it had anything to do with..."

Tweek was Ruby's brother's boyfriend, whom Karen finally got to meet at the fashion show. If they were talking about him, were they talking about Ruby's brother, too? Karen frowned. Ruby was going home for the break, but she mentioned coming back up to Denver before the semester started to visit her brother for a few days; Craig wasn't going home even for the holidays. It surprised Karen to hear that, though she wasn't sure why, since she and Kenny weren't going back for the holidays either. She had gone home last Christmas and over the summer while the dorms were closed, but Kenny hadn't been back since he moved.

When it occurred to Karen that it had gotten too quiet, she refocused on the scene at hand and realized Kyle was looking at her. He smiled widely, and she knew that she'd messed up her chance to hear what was going on. "Hey, I remember that shirt."

Kenny followed his gaze and furrowed his brow purposely, rubbing his chin. "Really? I don't think I've ever seen it before."

Karen rolled her eyes and wished them goodnight. She only partially closed Stan's door behind her and strained to listen on the other side of it, hoping the conversation would pick up where it left off. It didn't. Kenny and Kyle finished cleaning up after dinner, made small talk about their plans for Christmas Day and where they were going to eat, kissed once loudly enough for Karen to hear and probably more than once in the few seconds of silence that followed, and went to their rooms. After popping a single chocolate coin into her mouth, Karen snuggled into bed, drifting off to sleep with a little excitement for Christmas and more than a little anxiety for the snippet of conversation she'd overheard.

Chapter Text

Tweek bumped his elbow against Craig's door to knock, his hands full with two mugs. Coffee for himself, hot cocoa for Craig, both peppermint for Christmas. When Tweek told his parents he wanted to stay with Craig for Christmas, they readily agreed. It was a relief and a pang of hurt all wrapped into one. As he leaned his shoulder against the door, pushed it open into Craig's room, Tweek decided not to think about his parents. Craig was waiting for him.

Wrapped in his mother's handmade afghan, Craig sat on top of his made bed with his legs pretzeled underneath him, his telescope set up beside his bed, pointed out his open window. He was peering through it, his fingers barely ghosting along the barrel to hold it in place. A shiver ran up Tweek's spine, but it was a good shiver. Anticipating that glow Craig got whenever space was on his mind. And sometimes, in soft, precious moments alone in their apartment, when he looked at Tweek.

The lights were off, the room pitch dark except for glow-in-the-dark space stickers illuminating Craig's desktop computer. When Tweek came in, he invited light from the hall, but he kicked the door shut behind him, enough so that the door's edge tapped the frame but not enough that it clicked into place. A pencil line of light peeked through the barest crack between door and frame, pointing from Tweek's bare feet to Craig's galaxy eyes turning towards him.

From outside their window, city lights brushed Craig's profile, painted stars in his dark eyes and added a sparkle to his toothy grin. "C'mere," he said, just above a whisper, reverent. Tweek padded to his side and handed him his hot chocolate, wrapping both hands around his own coffee mug, absorbing their warmth. Craig held his mug by the handle, one-handed, still tracing the line of his telescope with the other. "Look at this," Craig said. He scooted sideways down the bed, tugging Tweek with him. Tweek put his eye to the viewpiece. 

Sphered in the darkness of the telescope's barrel, Tweek's vision narrowed to one magnified image. Against a sky sewn of navy velvet, white pinpricks twinkling distantly, a golden-white orb larger than the rest winked at him. Tweek bit his lip but could feel his smile growing. He knew without seeing that Craig was watching him.

"Venus," Craig said. Tweek heard him sip his cocoa. 

"It's beautiful," Tweek murmured.

"It's amazing visibility for the city. Another twenty minutes or so and it'll disappear again."

Tweek popped his head up to look at Craig. "OhJesus, well, here, look! I don't want youtomissit!"

"I got a good look while you were making our coffee," Craig said. Even though he never drank coffee himself, Craig always referred to their joint beverages as coffee. "You can look now."

Craig held Tweek's coffee in one hand and drank his own cocoa with the other while Tweek watched Venus pulse millions of miles away. It kept shifting, and Craig helped Tweek adjust the telescope when necessary. Just as Craig said, though, it disappeared within the quarter hour.

Tweek exhaled a gentle "Oh" when he lifted his head again. Staring out the window, the stars seemed even tinier, no longer magnified for his viewing pleasure.

Craig rested his mug on his nightstand with a little clink and handed Tweek his coffee. "Incredible, isn't it? It's a shame that the word awesome is used so often now...it should be saved for times like this. When you see something that really awes you." Over the lip of his mug, Tweek watched Craig's eyes go soft looking out the window. "It's awesome how a whole planet can look so small, even through a telescope. And then you realize how small Earth looks from Venus. And how small you look on Earth."

His eyes fluttered, and not for the first time, Tweek admired Craig's long, dark lashes against his skin, bronzed even with the lights turned off. Tweek bet Craig was some sort of royal in another life. A Sapa Inca cloaked in gold, Quechuan on his tongue overflowing with divinity.

The thought of being so small, so insignificant, in the grand scheme of galaxies didn't fill Tweek with awe the way it did Craig. But the idea of being two pinpricks of light that found each other in the vastness of existence was pretty awesome.

"I have something, ngh, for you," Tweek said. Craig turned his attention to him, and Tweek handed him his empty mug and slid off the bed. He hurried to his room and back, a glossy folder in hand, which he promptly turned over to Craig. "Merry Christmas."

"It's only Christmas Eve," Craig pointed out, his voice teasing in ways Tweek knew proudly others wouldn't hear as easily as he did. Craig flipped the folder open, his eyes falling on its contents, the certificate Tweek received in the mail. His lips parted, dark blue eyes lifting, seeking Tweek in the dark. 

Tweek inched down the bed and curled up at Craig's side, Craig's eyes following him the whole way. "I know Orion's...your favorite," he mumbled, pausing to hold down a geh he could feel bubbling at his lips. If at no other point in his life, his tics would stay at bay now. He peered over Craig's shoulder at the gift he'd picked out: an official document from the star registry declaring a star in the Orion constellation now named Stripe. 

"You're hard to shop for," Tweek mumbled against the soft knots of the afghan draped over Craig's shoulder. "I wanted to give you something that you would love...that—that you could keep."

Craig closed the folder and set it down on top of his comforter. His fingers lingered, tracing the folder's edges. As soon as they reached its corners and fell away, he brought his hands to cup Tweek's face, looking him in the eye.

"I want to keep you," Craig said. His lips barely moved, but his voice echoed off the walls of his room. The city sounds humming through his open window fell into silence in Tweek's ears.

"I love you, too," he said. Craig made a funny noise, and Tweek blushed to recognize it as a little gasp, his breath caught in his throat. Belatedly, Tweek's brain caught up with his mouth. You've never said that before, it reminded him.

Panic rose up from his stomach, but then Craig's fingers were trembling against his cheeks, thumbs stroking along his jaw. Shy, but happy. Of this, Tweek was certain. Craig leaned closer until his nose brushed Tweek's, and again Tweek felt his voice clanging in the back of his mouth against his will, that tic that threatened to squawk or squeak and push Craig away.

Before it could, Tweek surged forward to press his lips against Craig's. The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, inexperienced. Tweek's mouth smushed too hard against Craig's, and Craig's nose whistled. It was a complete disaster.

Tweek could feel Craig's grin stretching from content to manic under his mouth.

They pulled apart as gracelessly as they kissed, staring at each other in the dark. Tweek studied Craig's goofy smile and felt Craig's eyes roving his expression, too. He smiled back, a nervous laugh on his lips. Craig's teeth peeked out from behind the upward curve of his lips. He chuckled. Tweek twittered again, and Craig snorted. Covering his mouth with his hand, Tweek stifled any laughter. Craig's lips quivered with effort. A second later, they both burst into laughter.

"We're bad at this," Tweek said.

"Practice makes perfect," Craig said lightly. Something akin to wickedness sparkled in his eyes.

"Is that a fact?" Tweek asked, shivering. Good shivering. Excited shivering. That it was Christmas, and he'd put his nervous habits in their place, and Venus was so bright. Somewhere out there in the galaxy, studying their tiny blue planet spinning through space. And here, on that planet, a Sapa Inca looking at Tweek as if he were the divine one.

Awe consumed him.

Chapter Text

While the ball dropped on the live feed streaming on Craig’s laptop, the Times Square crowd’s countdown still audible despite the volume being turned down, Craig’s focus narrowed and narrowed on Tweek’s green eyes. It was just like looking through his telescope, the freckles splashed across Tweek’s nose the stars of the galaxy, his little smile the crescent moon.

A week ago tonight, Tweek had whispered I love you without so much as a squeak, and they’d kissed without drawing blood. Best night of Craig’s life thus far, easily. 

Christmas Eve had been followed by three rough days, where Tweek’s tremors looked more like a side effect of the flu, and everything he said came out in a rushed wheeze. Times like this, Craig was particularly bitter about the fire behind his eyes. If he had to have a superpower, why couldn’t it be something that would help Tweek? He did the best he could, wrapping Tweek up in his mother’s afghan and holding his hand, trying to tell Tweek that he didn’t care about his tics without saying something aloud that might embarrass or upset him. Sometimes Tweek wanted to be left alone, and Craig acquiesced even though it killed him. He sat outside Tweek’s bedroom door for a few hours across the three days, just staring at his door across the hall and listening to Tweek’s frustrated whimpers.

On the fourth morning, Tweek burst out of his room and into Craig’s, plopped down at the end of his bed, and told him he wanted to see a doctor.

He could see it in Tweek’s face now, the wrinkles of frustration when one of his tics acted up, the self-blame in his eyes. Craig didn’t care if Tweek trembled or squeaked; he’d long since grown used to it. For a while, though, Craig had suspected that Tweek was ashamed of them, and if Tweek was upset, Craig was upset. That’s how it works when you love someone, Craig supposed. You feel everything they feel and then some.

A doctor’s appointment was something that would happen after the holiday vacations, something for the new year. Which was only ten…nine…eight…

He and Tweek were curled up together on the futon, Craig’s laptop on the table haloed with Chinese food takeout boxes and chopsticks. As soon as the ball dropped, they would watch local (probably), illegal (definitely) fireworks from their window and then get back to the Twilight Zone marathon. Well. As soon as the ball dropped and they kissed their way into the new year.

That fourth morning and every day since, Tweek had been doing better, his tics and twitches back to their usual degrees. Alone in their apartment, and even once in the car, they’d kissed. Six times, including the one on Christmas. Tweek initiated four of them. Little pecks over coffee or nuzzles during Netflix marathons. Craig had never been one to think about romance or even sex growing up, which Clyde couldn’t for the life of him figure out. But Craig had been thinking about kissing Tweek for a long time, maybe from that first supernova. What it would feel like (everything and nothing like he’d ever known; also, wet), if Tweek would taste like coffee (he did), and if they’d be close enough for him to feel Tweek’s heartbeat (once, so far). His imagination had not prepared him. Every time, it was fireworks and stars and galaxies, even if only for a second.

So when Tweek had murmured in his ear earlier an innocent enough question (“Do you want to kiss at midnight?”), it was all Craig could do not to shout that yes, yes definitely, he wanted to do that.

The crowd continued chanting through Craig’s tinny speakers. Three…! His nose brushed Tweek’s. Two…! Tweek exhaled a nervous laugh, his breath puffing against Craig’s cheek. One…! Their lips found each other, smiling into each other’s indents, pressing gently, just enough. Happy New—

A shriek of unbridled horror blew in from outside, and he and Tweek jerked away from each other to turn towards their open window. Crashes and explosions sounded from the street below, and Craig struggled to get up from where he was seated under a blanket, kicking his legs out as if he were running before his feet had even touched the ground. Fire sliced through his skull midway to standing, and he cried out, covering his face with his hands. The sudden onset of a migraine that blazed from temple to temple channeled its way to his eyes. Craig was certain he could feel tongues of fire wreathing his eyeballs, licking at his fingers splayed over his lids. He staggered, his knee knocking against the table, jostling his laptop.

"Craig!" Tweek shrieked behind him. Craig felt Tweek's clammy hands touch his elbows, maybe trying to steady him. Outside, a car alarm sounded, followed by an echoing thud.

In spite of the fire in his eyes, Craig felt a chill root him to the spot. He recognized that sound. The footprint, pawprint, clawprint. The weight of a beast behind it.

Lurching forward like he might be sick, Craig swore. And swore and swore, fingers scrabbling at his eyes. He didn't ask to be the chosen one. He didn't want to be involved. He wanted to live a quiet life, the kind of life nobody thought twice about. Everybody was always running around like chickens with their heads cut off, wanting to be special, shooting for the stars, dreaming out of atmosphere. Craig had only ever wanted one wonderful thing in his life, and his being the chosen one had led la muerte peluda right to him.

Tweek squeaked and whimpered at his side, and Craig could feel his hands twining around his arm, seeking an anchor. He shook so badly that Craig shook with him, and the tremor ran right up to his eyes. There was no holding back his powers now. The second he opened his eyes, the lasers would fire, obliterating any and everything in his path.

"Tweek," he choked out, and Tweek pulled himself closer, winding around Craig's arm. "Listen. It's—" He gripped one hand over both eyes, letting the hand of the arm Tweek was attached to fall in search of Tweek's hand.

"Guinea creatures?" Tweek asked, his breath coming out in quick whistles. Craig's stomach churned.

"I can't control it," he whispered. "As soon as I open my eyes, I'll—"

"Okay," Tweek said. "Okayokayokayngh, whatcanIdo? How do I help you?"

"Call Kenny," Craig said, "and tell him to get over here. Then help me get downstairs and outside. Listen. T...Tweek." Fuck being the chosen one, fuck being the chosen one, fuck being the chosen one. "I'm going to need you to point me in the direction of the nearest monster. Once I open my eyes, I'll be able to see." It was surreal, psychedelic, the way he saw the world through a blue laser sheen. "Then you can get back to safety inside."

Even with his eyes closed, Craig could picture Tweek's round eyes staring up at him, his bottom lip trembling with the effort to stifle one of his grunts. Getting Tweek involved was everything he didn't want. As the crashes echoed outside, a low, horrific howl rose up into the night. A monster's wheek.

"I'm sorry," Craig said. "I never meant for you—"

"Craig." Tweek's voice hardened, and Craig faltered at how put-together he sounded. "I'm going to let go of you for a second and look out the window, okay? See how close they are."

"Okay."

He felt the warmth of Tweek's arms unwinding from his side, heard him move further away. His eyes burned. He waited, heart pounding, ears pricked for the sound of Tweek's soft breath. Footsteps padded back to his side.

"I can see them," Tweek said. "More and more, ngh, movingfurtherdowntown." Craig exhaled heavily, but Tweek's voice was pretty steady considering the situation. "OhJesus...okay, Craig. Can you shoot from here, do you think?"

"It'll draw them to me," Craig said, hating that his voice cracked when he said it. On the backs of his lids, he replayed scenes from Peru. Of some adult authority figure's hands clapped down on his shoulders, steering him this way and that, the teeth coming at him, beady eyes bigger than his body spinning and suddenly fixating on him. "It'll draw them to you." He didn't mean to say that, didn't mean for it to come out. He heard Tweek laugh, a stilted sound, the most frightened noise he'd made since the first crash.

Then, lips brushing Craig's ear, Tweek said, "I love you, too." There was something fierce in his voice, something unshakable, and Craig again loathed his superpower for forcing his eyes shut. He could feel Tweek's supernova at his side, bursting and blooming and lighting up the sky. "It's okay, Craig. You're not alone this time."

Craig didn't recall saying that he was alone the first time. Or even consciously thinking it. But of course he had been alone. The chosen one, the mutant child, the weapon. He grabbed Tweek's hand and squeezed it, feeling everything and then some.

Chapter Text

Tweek didn't have Kenny's phone number so he called Kyle, who picked up on the second ring.

"La muerte peluda?" he guessed, his voice grave. Tweek grunted in agreement, worrying the hem of his shirt with the hand that wasn't holding his cell. "We're watching the news. Nothing globally, it just seems to be hitting Denver. They're every—" His voice grew softer, and Tweek imagined Kyle holding his phone away from his mouth to talk to someone in the background. "What are you doing? ...Oh, and how exactly are you...Stop using that raspy voice, I know it's you."

Putting a hand over the mouthpiece, Tweek told Craig, "Kenny's suiting up to come help."

"Okay," Craig grit out. His head was still bowed, one hand covering his eyes. Tweek's stomach clenched. Through Craig's splayed fingers, his eyebrows were tensing, his eyelids squeezed shut, teeth ground together. A blue spark flashed between Craig's fingers and he groaned. Tweek had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in alarm.

"Tweek?" Kyle was calling from the phone. Tweek returned his attention to the conversation.

"Yeah?"

"We're on our way towards your apartment, oka—Kenny, wait!—we'll be there in ten minutes. Stay safe."

After hanging up, Tweek went to Craig's side, brushing his palms under his elbows to hold him steady. "They're on their way. I don't...ngh...know what their plan is, but they're coming." Craig's grunt in reply was muffled through lips pursed together, and Tweek knew he was holding back out of pain. His heart dove into his stomach. "I'll—I'll take you downstairs."

"Just point me at them," Craig managed, "and get back inside." It made sense; what could Tweek do to help? Still, the idea that he was at all burdening Craig wasn't a pleasant one.

Tweek steered Craig into the hallway, careful to lock up their apartment behind them, and helped him down the stairs, lamenting the fact that their building didn't have an elevator. They moved towards the back of the building where the parking lot was. He guided Craig to the door and opened it, then gasped.

"What?" Craig asked, his body already moving. He spread his arms and legs, fixing himself solidly in between Tweek and any outside threat, and opened his eyes. A white-hot light sparking with blue electricity shot out like a laser, and Tweek clapped his hands over his mouth as he watched the beam shoot out into the night sky, thankfully over the rooftops.

"The snow," Tweek said meekly. "I forgot."

The eye beams shut off, and Craig turned back to face him, eyes closed again. Even without the so-called windows into Craig's soul, Tweek could read the regret in his expression. Tweek almost wanted to chuckle, inappropriate though it might be, that all it took was a little gasp of forgetfulness to have Craig go full-throttle overprotective. He touched Craig's cheek delicately with his fingertips. The worry lines around Craig's mouth softened.

That was when Tweek really shrieked in horror, though. Craig whipped around, and this time when he opened his eyes, his lasers made direct contact with a groaning monster lurching out from the other side of the parking lot. It had the oversized body of a bumblebee, buzzing and rumbling, its porous wings twitching, but the hairy, squashed face of an ancient guinea pig. A few seconds of Craig's laser, and it blew back, disintegrating into dust.

"Jesus," Tweek squeaked, his voice giving out at the tail end of the blasphemous utterance. Craig's arms had widened again, shielding him from view. In the near distance, and growing closer, more beasts stomped closer, the sound of their paws crushing into the ground far preceding their appearance. Craig's lasers petered out for a second, and Tweek heard him moan with effort. Turning his head to the side, Craig, eyes open and unfiring, spared Tweek a fast glance.

"It's going to summon them to me," he managed, turning back towards the parking lot again. "The sound. The power. Whatever it is. They're going to rush me." His voice cracked again, and an image of a child Craig, a tiny version of himself, flashed through Tweek's mind. The experience in Craig's voice turned his stomach. "I've got to lead them away from here. If I can lure them to the city limits, they'll cause less destruction. Stay where it's safe, call Kenny so he knows the plan. I have his number in my phone."

Craig fumbled for the cell in his back pocket when two more guinea creatures lumbered into view, one sprouting rounded rat ears, the other what looked like blue bunny ears that matched its matted fur. It reminded Tweek a bit of all the cutesy outfits Craig used to buy Stripe, which he'd always found adorable because such doting behavior towards a pet betrayed that Craig wasn't as stoic as he appeared. Bigger than a building and hissing with blood-tipped fangs took the sweetness out of the image. Tweek backed up into the apartment building until he slammed into the fire extinguisher case on the wall. Craig shot off his lasers again, first on the rabbit. After a few seconds, it burst, the guinea rat charging through its ashes. When Craig's lasers struck the rat, it froze as if rooted to the spot, and it too exploded into dust. Tweek felt his chest heaving.

There was a delay.

Craig's powers didn't immediately wipe out guinea creatures, and he couldn't hit multiple targets at once. If a group of them rushed him like Craig said...

"Here," Craig said, tossing his cell. Tweek made no effort to catch it and had to duck to avoid its hurtling through the air. It crashed through the glass panel on the front of the fire extinguisher box behind him. "I'm going to—"

"No, you're not!" Tweek yelled, straightening. "You're not going anywhere without me, especially cell-phone-less." Craig blinked in surprise, and Tweek turned to jerk open the front panel. He grabbed Craig's phone and the fire extinguisher and jogged back to the doorway. "I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are!" A groan behind Craig alerted them both to another guinea rabbit, and Craig fired at it. When it turned to dust, three more appeared from behind it. Craig cursed under his breath and slammed the door shut, pushing Tweek back into the building.

"Craig!"

Tweek could see through the little streaked window in the door and pressed closer, watching Craig run further out into the parking lot. He sloshed through the snow, which reached midway up his calves, and fired his lasers as he ran. It was the same as before, with one defeated, its body too bulky for the other two to bypass. As soon as it was gone, though, they both rushed. Craig backed up a bit and aimed for the second, but it wasn't in the way of the third and couldn't prevent rushing.

Shoving Craig's cell in his pocket, Tweek checked the nozzle of the extinguisher and gave it an experimental pull, sending out a burst of foam. He pushed the door open and ran out into the parking lot, the snow up over his knees, and aimed his weapon at the third guinea rabbit. A lucky shot into its glassy black eye had the beast rearing up on its hind legs roaring with rage, but it bought Craig enough time to take care of the second rabbit and turn his lasers to the third. Tweek panted as the guinea creature dust seeped into the snow.

"Do they regenerate?" he squeaked. Craig was already at his side, face flushed, eyes red-rimmed but not firing.

"No," he answered quickly, "but what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You can't fight them all if they rush you," Tweek said. "You need help."

"That's what Kenny's for."

"A human shield?" Tweek bit back, not realizing the truth in his words until they were out of his mouth. Craig had the decency to look ashamed.

"It's not like I want someone to get killed for my sake," he said. "But Kenny comes back. It wouldn't really be like sacrificing him."

"He still dies before he comes back! He still bleeds, Craig!" It wasn't that Tweek didn't get where Craig was coming from, and in an emergency situation with all these monsters running around, maybe it made perfect sense. Still, Kyle's face came to mind. But sometimes I wonder if it's not indefinite immortality. If he gets, like, a hundred resurrections before death becomes permanent. "It's still sacrifice!"

"Better him than you," Craig said, regaining some of his vitriol. Tweek took the comeback like a punch to the stomach, his mouth flapping open soundlessly. "I've gotta get out of here. They're coming too fast. Tell Kenny I'm heading for the city limits."

A flash of purple in his peripheral vision caught Tweek's attention. He reached out and grabbed Craig's sleeve before he could run.

"Tell him yourself," Tweek said, pointing. Running up from the other side of their apartment, ducking behind trash cans and cars, were Mysterion, Professor Chaos, Kyle, Kenny's sister, and, inexplicably...

"Oh, good," Craig said, his eyes narrowing on The Coon. "We don't have to use Kenny as our sacrifice after all."

Chapter Text

"The hell are you doing here?" were the first words out of Craig's mouth when the new group joined them, his eyes shooting daggers at Cartman. Kyle sighed like he wasn't happy about it, either, which Tweek didn't have a hard time believing.

"We invited Butters over for New Year's and Cartman followed him," Mysterion said. It was hard to think of him as Kenny between the hardened expression under his cowl and the raspy voice. His sister rolled her eyes.

"Hi again," she said to Tweek and Craig. "Karen. I'm Ruby's roommate."

"Why are you—?" A groan from behind the new addition to their group cut off Tweek's question. His hand automatically shot to Craig's arm for balance.

"Everybody get down," Craig said, eyes sparking. Everyone but Cartman dropped to the ground.

"Yeah, okay, Craig, whateve—"

A guinea bee burst into the street behind them, and Cartman shrieked in horror, flinging himself into the snow. Craig's lasers were on their target in an instant, and he grunted with the effort to turn them off once the bee was destroyed. Silent and wide-eyed, everyone else got back up on their feet.

"Okay, captain," Mysterion said, nodding to Craig, "what's the plan?"

"I can't target more than one at a time," Craig said, "but it's the only thing that can stop them. Regular weapons don't work."

"We saw," Kyle said. "The way we came, the police had set up a barricade, but their bullets just bounced right off that giant bee-rat."

"Guinea bee," Craig corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"Okay, listen," Craig continued without further explanation. "I appreciate all of you coming, but a bunch of, you know, muggles is going to hurt more than it helps." His eyes flickered to Tweek.

"We can still help keep you, ngh, guarded," Tweek said, holding up the fire extinguisher. "I shot one in the eye so Craig could take it out...mmph...If they're in a group and Craig takes out one, geh, they all stampede."

Butters swayed on his feet, his aluminum foil helmet slipping. Mysterion and Kyle each grabbed a shoulder to hold him steady.

"I'm going to try to lead them to the city limits," Craig said. "They're attracted to me."

"Yeah, well, you're a real freak magnet, aren't you?" Cartman drawled, his eyes lazily sliding towards Tweek. Craig whirled on him, eyes sparking, and Tweek held up his fire extinguisher between them.

"Keep it up and we're, ngh, using you as a meat shield," he told Cartman. The sputtered response suggested Cartman hadn't expected Tweek to bite back for himself, and when Tweek turned his back on him, Craig was smiling. "Okay, so we need to get you to the city limits. We don't know how many there are or where they're coming from..." He hesitated. "How, ngh, did you defeat them last time?"

"I took out the pirate, and the flute bands swooped in to drive the guinea creatures back into the Andes."

A long pause followed that, broken only by a crash in the distance setting off a car alarm. Smoke curled into the sky from a distance.

"What," Kyle said, no inflection to quirk his question.

"The flute bands!" Tweek said. "We need to get them back out here to driveawaytheguineacreatures!"

"Got it," Mysterion said. "A couple of us can double-back and touch base with the police. They had to move the bands along because of complaints over the music. I looked into it earlier." He exchanged a look with Craig. Tweek was quite sure that they had a second-long telepathic conversation. "Most of the bands didn't have permission to perform. They're being held at the police station."

"So we need a team to help defend Craig on his way to the city limits and a team to talk to the police and get the Peruvian panflute bands here to drive away the monsters." Kyle shook his head. "Did you say something about a pirate?"

"The guinea pirate," Craig said. He squeezed his eyes shut for a minute and rubbed his lids with the heels of his hands. Tweek suspected he was struggling to hold off the beams, though Craig looked up again a moment later, eyes bloodshot. "He was their leader. Once I took him out, they kind of scattered and were easier for the musicians to round up."

"Roger," Kyle said. "So we're waiting for some sort of...mastermind guinea pig to show up?"

"Kyle, you're watching it happen, stop using your disbelieving-mom voice," Mysterion said, a smile playing on his lips.

"I know! And I don't have—"

"Fellas, I don't think we should stand around talking too much longer," Butters said. He balled his trembling hands into fists and rubbed his knuckles together, his eyebrows knitting. "We gotta get a plan into action here."

"Karen, Kyle, and Tweek go get the panflute bands," Kenny said. He thought about it a minute longer. "Butters, you go, too. Switch costumes with me."

"Uh—wh-what, Kenny?"

"Switch costumes with me," Kenny repeated. "They'll listen to Mysterion. But I gotta stay with Craig."

"And me, too," Cartman said, puffing up. "The Coon obviously goes where the danger lies."

"You're coming with us because you'll make the best human shield, and nobody trusts you to negotiate."

"Ay! Kinneeeey, you poor piece of shi—"

"Sound like a plan?" Mysterion asked Craig. He flashed an approving thumbs-up, and Mysterion nodded. Tweek bristled.

"You know, you don't have to usher us non-heroes off to do the easy part," he snapped. "Need I remind you, the last time we had an emergency situation, ngh, it wasn't any of you superpowered folks takingdownthisjerk." He pointed to Cartman, who growled indignantly. "It was Kyle and me. Geh. And Token."

Mysterion and Craig both glared at the suggestion, and Tweek knew that most of their exasperation came from wanting to protect Kyle and him, but he was going down swinging anyway. Butters stopped fidgeting and cracked a little smile, hidden under his drooping helmet, and Karen rolled her shoulders back, looking more ready than any of them for a fight. Kyle's eyes were soft even as his smile curved into a more fiery smirk.

"It's still dangerous even going to the police barricade," Mysterion said. "You won't have Craig with you. You'll have to run and be able to duck and hide if you run into any guinea creatures." The more he elaborated, the less happy he seemed with his plan.

Which restored Kyle's confidence, apparently. "We can do that," he said firmly. To Butters he added, "Switch costumes, quick." Kenny immediately started stripping and Kyle yelled at him to go inside "Do you want to catch hypothermia?"

Kenny and Butters ducked into Tweek and Craig's apartment building and must have changed right behind the door into the stairwell, because they were out in a blink. Tweek's faith in Kenny's plan faltered; Butters clearly wasn't Mysterion. He was too small and soft, with none of Kenny's caped smugness. In contrast, Professor Chaos suddenly looked like a proper villain, aluminum foil helmet or not. 

"Let's go," Kenny said in his usual voice. He and Cartman hustled to flank Craig.

"Your phone," Tweek said, pulling Craig's cell out of his pocket. When he handed it over, he couldn't help his fingertips lingering against Craig's palm. "Be careful, okay?" His voice dropped so that only Craig could hear him, though Tweek was sure everyone knew what he was saying. Craig leaned down, his forehead against Tweek's, then lowered the rest of his face to brush their lips together. The finality of the gesture went right to Tweek's eyes, which burned wetly when he closed them.

"I will," Craig said when he drew back. "You, too."

Tweek blinked enough times that he knew it was obvious he was trying not to cry. The only way Craig could make this worse would be if he said—

"I love you."

Before he could break down and cry his reciprocation, Tweek bit his lip, clenched his fist, and brought said fist up into Craig's jaw. It was a solid hit, cracking his head to the side, and Craig grunted in pain. Faintly aware of a stir among their group behind him, Tweek snapped, "Knockitoffyoujerk, ngh! You're coming back, so quittalkinglikewe'll, geh, never seeeachotheragain!" His whole body was shaking and jerking, probably to make up for not being allowed earlier. He couldn't stop it. Couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to. "You're gonnablowup the guinea pirate, ngh, and I'm gonnabreakabunch of Peruvian flutists out of jail, geh, we're bothgonnalive, and we're gonnasavetheworld, yougotthat?"

Craig's eyebrow hovered somewhere around his hairline, his eyes wide. Tweek could see every spidery line in his bloodshot eyes, red rimming the bags forming underneath; he looked so tired. Then Craig's expression settled into something like pride, his eyebrows lowering with confidence, smirk stretching.

"Got it," he said.

Chapter Text

Being Mysterion sure was scarier than being Professor Chaos. 

Butters felt an extra helping of pressure to do well as he, Karen, and Tweek followed Kyle back the way they'd come. At least this time they knew the streets and could plan their hiding accordingly, waiting to check around corners for monsters. Seeing creatures so similar to cute little guinea pigs except the size of buildings and mean wasn't how Butters had imagined ringing in the new year. Life sure was interesting lately. Ever since Mysterion first showed up.

Glancing down at his gloves, Kenny's gloves, Butters frowned again. They were never going to believe he was Kenny. He wasn't brave enough for this. It should be Kyle wearing the purple mantle; he spoke so well and moved forward with such conviction, even Mysterion would think he was the real Mysterion.

A rumbling groan overhead snapped Butters out of his musings, a telltale thud of a monster's paw quaking in the ground. Karen pressed herself to the driver's door of a parked car nearby, shimmied something, and yanked the door open. "Everybody in!" she hissed. The four of them piled into the car, a bigger sedan, and slid down to the floor space, ducking their heads. The guinea creature—Butters didn't look up to see what kind—lumbered past them in the direction of Kenny's group. Beside him in the backseat, Tweek took a shuddering breath just quietly enough that Butters thought he might've been the only one to hear it.

In the passenger's front seat, Kyle's head was the first to pop up. "I'm not even going to ask where you learned how to carjack."

"It's not carjacking," Karen said. As she eased into the driver's seat, she undid her ponytail and went about fixing it again. "I've never stolen a car in my life. Sometimes they're just a safe place to hide. Like in a lightning storm, or if somebody's looking for you."

Kyle didn't say anything, and Butters immediately thought of Kenny. He sort of assumed any unsettling pearls of wisdom Karen shared came from her favorite brother.

The closer they got to the police barricade, the more people were running around in a panic. They must've been scared out of their wits, because a bunch of them recognized the costume and screamed to Butters for help.

"You can do it, Mysterion!"

"Save us, Mysterion!"

"We're counting on you, Mysterion!"

Butters wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that he couldn't answer these folks' prayers, or the fact that Mysterion wasn't even the one out there risking his neck to save everybody. Poor Craig. Butters wondered if he should tell people that his buddy Super Craig was off fighting the guinea pigs, and he was just here to help. Then he wondered if Craig might not like that name, because Craig was awful tall and scary, except when he was doting on Tweek. Butters bet Craig and Kenny were nice friends.

Finally the group pulled onto the main drag where policemen had blockaded the road and were firing on a disinterested guineasaurus rex. A rotund blue shape caught Butters' eye from the edge of his masked view, and he turned to see an officer in sunglasses jogging towards them.

"Mysterion!" the policeman said with delight, puffing a few heavy breaths. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here! I knew you'd come, I just knew it."

A redheaded officer in suspenders jogged up behind him, his mustache quivering with annoyance. "Barbrady, would you get back in formation!"

"Yes, sir, chief!" Barbrady hurried back to the barricade. The redhead appraised the group.

"Officer Yates," Kyle said, and Butters realized this was the cop who'd let Kenny go after Eric spoiled Karen's show. The cop sighed heavily.

"How did I know you scoobies would be showing up again?" he muttered to himself. "All right, Mysterion." Butters squeaked to attention as Yates turned to him. "I know I said last time that I'd cuff you for vigilantism the next time we met, but I think it's fair to say that we've got bigger pigs to fry here."

"Officer Yates," Kyle said again. Yates tore his gaze from Butters' cowl reluctantly. "Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but we know what's happening. Those Peruvian flute bands that have been showing up? They're playing music that wards off the guinea creatures. Without them, the monsters appeared. We need to get those bands out here as soon as possible to drive them back."

"Kid, we've got our best officers on the front lines, and you're telling me to fight monsters with 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'?"

"Your weapons aren't working," Karen pointed out, drawing herself up to her full height. It was still a good foot shorter than Yates, but he appeared cowed by her unimpressed expression nevertheless. "What harm can it do to believe us? We've gotten you out of a pinch before."

The ground shook with an echoing boom, and they all nearly lost their footing, even Yates. When Butters turned to look behind him, blue lasers were shooting up at the sky from blocks away. Tweek whimpered.

"What the hell...?" Yates clenched his fists. Butters felt sorry for him. For all the police, really. Bumbling though Barbrady was, and gruff though Yates was, they and the rest of their men seemed genuinely distraught not being able to do anything to help. Butters could relate to that. To being helpless, powerless, a sidekick. Mysterion's mantle hung heavily on his shoulders.

"Craig...!" Tweek managed, fingers lacing over his lips. He shook all over, and Butters wanted to give the poor little fella a hug but thought it might look strange coming from Mysterion. At least to any outsiders who didn't know that Kenny tried solving all problems with bear hugs. Tweek had been awful quiet ever since the team split up. They didn't know what was going on with the others, but seeing Craig's lasers going haywire wasn't a good sign.

"Friends of yours, Mysterion?" Yates sounded like he needed a nap.

Before Butters could answer, Tweek pushed him aside and stepped right up to Yates, nearly nose-to-nose. "Craig's risking hislifeforeverybody, geh, right now! You need to help him!" Butters reminded himself to hug Tweek later. At least twice.

Yates sighed. "Fine. Why the hell not. We're holding the performers who were playing without permits down at the station. In fact—" He looked over his shoulder and called for Barbrady, who jogged back. "Barbrady'll drive you, save some time. He's got the keys to the cells. Bring the bands back here immediately." He focused on Butters again. "I wouldn't be accepting this so easily if I didn't know what you can do, Mysterion. Don't make me lose my faith in you."

Oh, hamburgers. Butters coughed and did his best impression of Kenny's impression of Batman. "Yes, sir."

Barbrady led them to the cruiser parked haphazardly nearby, half on the street, half up on the sidewalk. Kyle eyed the park job critically, and Karen smirked. Barbrady struggled a little with the driver's door and Karen helped him pop it open.

"You guys?" Tweek said from the back. They all turned. He wrung his hands. "I'm going back for Craig. You go ahead and get the bands."

"No way," Kyle said. "You're coming with us." Kyle was a funny fella, Butters thought, always looking to charge ahead himself but never wanting anybody else to put themselves in danger. He tried to picture someone telling Kyle he couldn't do what he wanted, and, boy, was that hard to imagine! "I know you want to go, but you'll just end up in the way." Kyle bit his lip. "Craig'll be distracted trying to protect you, and he won't be able to do what he needs to do."

"You're so fullofitKyleack!" Tweek sputtered, shaking again. Butters had noticed earlier that Tweek wasn't wearing a coat, just an olive green button-down and jeans, but for the first time he wondered if Tweek might get sick because of it. "You were the one who, geh, saidwecoulddomore. That we could be more than, ngh...in distress! If it were Kenny, you'd go. You did go when it was Kenny!"

"And look what happened!"

"I saved you!" Tweek yelled. "Craig and I saved you! I'm going back!" 

Before Kyle could fight back, Tweek had turned on his heel and shot off like a rocket towards the city limits. Far away, the guinea creatures' groans overlapped, a wounded sound straight from the earth. Overhead, laser beams fired and fired and fired.

Chapter Text

Craig's eyes wouldn't stop burning. The closer those monsters got, the less control he had. If there was a break in the onslaught, if he could get away from them for even a few seconds, he could power down the lasers and shut his aching eyes, but they were coming faster and faster now.

Cartman hurled anything he could find at them if they tried ganging up on their group. This ranged from wreaths swiped off doors to snowballs and was far less effective than Tweek's fire extinguisher. Kenny willingly threw himself at them, locking his fingers together so his hand looked like a blade and jabbing it into their eyes. He'd already had two limbs bitten off, which regenerated seconds later, and Craig was glad that he had to focus his eyes on his targets when he fired, because he didn't particularly want to see that. 

He'd taken out bees, rats, rabbits, and one lion. No pirate in sight, and Craig wondered if there was even a pirate here. At the very least, they were reaching the city limit and no one was dead yet. All Craig needed was for those panflute bands to back him up and drive the beasts back. 

Why wasn't the music enough? The last time this happened, the outbreak occurred near a wall covered in ancient art foretelling the rise of the guinea creatures and Craig's victory over them, the connection between beast and music. Craig was able to hold off the monsters for the amount of time it took to accumulate enough panflute players to drive them back into slumber. Craig had long suspected that the adults in his village believed he'd attracted them there in the first place, a one-man self-fulfilling prophecy, and he was inclined to believe them. They'd shipped him all the way to America and the guinea creatures had followed him.

Tweek wouldn't let him down. Craig knew he wouldn't. He'd have those panflute bands here any minute. People underestimated Tweek all the time, but Craig knew he could set the whole world ablaze if he wanted to.

Another two bees later, and the highway was in sight. Craig's chest tightened. It was true that more civilians were safe if the creatures came out here, but the wide, flat roads of Colorado didn't supply much in the nature of cover or protection. He'd be a sitting duck out here.

"We're both gonna live," he muttered to himself. "We're both gonna live."

A guinea lion intercepted their path, Cartman letting out an unholy shriek of surprise, and Craig was just barely able to get his wits about him to fire. Thankfully his powers had a bit of an autopilot feature when presented with the enemy. Kenny flanked him as the lion's dust scattered.

"Does it have to be one continuous streak?" Kenny asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Can you fire at one, shift to another, and come back? Or is it all one and done?"

"What difference does it make?" Craig asked, eyeing the open space just ahead, the destination to which they were running.

"They freeze when you first hit them," Kenny pointed out. "If you can get them to hold off, fight another one, and come back, that'd be good. Or if you could just turn your head and laser right across in a line."

He was trying to strategize for the open space, too. Craig bit his lip. "I haven't had much time to figure out how this stuff works. It's always, kind of..."

"An emergency situation?" Kenny guessed, and though he looked disappointed, Craig knew he commiserated. They hit the last of the buildings and burst out onto flat grass and concrete. The experience of leaving the city was surreal, a sudden shift from industry and civilization to wide roads stretching out in every direction. In the daylight, Craig knew, they'd just be able to make out the foggy outline of the Rockies in the distance. "Can you try anyway?" Kenny asked. They all stopped to catch their breath, and Kenny exchanged a look with Cartman. "I don't know how helpful we're going to be out in the open like this, man."

"I know. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to get them away from the city..."

"Oh, great, we're just making plans on the fly now?" Cartman howled. "Amateur! I'm associating with amateurs!"

C R A I G

The three of them jumped at the sound, a voice like rocks tumbling down a mountainside, reverberating in the very air around them. Cartman swore, his voice an octave higher than usual. Kenny's eyes darted from land to sky and back. Craig swallowed. He knew that voice.

Y O U J U S T D O N ' T E V E R S T O P D O Y O U

Rodent faces peeked out from behind buildings and gas stations all along the city limits of Denver. But dead ahead, lurching out from the very spot where their trio had exited minutes before, was the guinea pirate.

"Well," Kenny said, blinking. "That's...startling."

"You don't sound startled," Cartman squawked. Kenny gestured emptily.

"Dude, what am I looking at here?"

Craig's heart hammered. His most vivid memory of the last pandemic, the one that had haunted his dreams for years, was of the guinea pirate. It was taller and fatter than the others. He was sure he'd destroyed it. Positive. He'd fired and fired and fired until his eyes bled, and it kept coming at him, and he'd sworn it was going to snap him in half with its skyscraper fangs. One final shot down its open mouth, close enough for Craig to smell its putrid breath, was what blew the pirate away. That was when the flute bands showed up, and not a moment too soon. Craig's vision was blurring in front of him, and he spent the next week in and out of consciousness. By the time he was back to full strength, he was on a plane to America.

T H E I N C A N S P R E D I C T E D T H A T Y O U W O U L D S T O P U S O N C E B U T N O T T W I C E, the pirate continued. Its mouth never moved, no trace of humanity in its squashed face. The voice echoed all around them. I H A V E B E E N G I V E N A S E C O N D C H A N C E

The same one. The same pirate he'd blown away more than a decade earlier was staring him down again. Craig tensed. Not only was he positive that the pirate would charge as soon as it finished its speech, but it had backup. His eyes throbbed with lasers ready to fire.

"Anytime now, Craig," Cartman snapped.

Y O U W I L L A L L D I E H E R E

That was it. Craig knew even before the pirate kicked off into a run that this threat was the final thing his enemy wanted him to hear. Knowing that the pirate's prophecy had a good chance of coming true, Craig leaned on Kenny's suggestions. In the face of the pirate and all of his buccaneer guinea creatures, the regular pig variety, stampeding, Craig turned to one side and let loose the full-power laser. He struck the pig farthest away and wrenched his head to turn the beams horizontally across the row of approaching beasts. As Kenny said, they all froze and trembled when struck. Craig moved his head as quickly as he could across to stun all of them, pirate included, then brought the beams back, razing them. Pigs were the easiest guinea creatures to kill. A second or two each and they were dust. But the sheer number—at least eight or nine—meant Craig had to keep in constant motion. They were pushing closer every time he turned away.

Craig felt Kenny and Cartman each take hold under one of his armpits. They dragged him backwards as quickly as they could run, and Craig's legs sputtered to keep up, backpedaling, sometimes being lifted clean off the ground. Human legs weren't long enough to outrun guinea creatures on a rampage, but the numbers were dwindling. Only the pirate seemed to have any strong resistance; Craig kept coming back to him, trying to aim for his eyes, his mouth, weak points. It screamed and roared, coughing on the dust that used to be its lackeys. One by one, Craig disintegrated the pigs, but he could feel his eyes dripping and knew it wasn't tears. The power was too strong, he was using too much, and it wouldn't stop. Firing, firing, firing. He was going to blind himself if he didn't die.

"We're both gonna live," he groaned to himself, blasting the last remaining pig backing up the pirate. With a dry sob of breath, Craig turned the full power of his curse onto the pirate.

A R G H

Without being divvied up among opponents, the strength of the lasers multiplied. Craig could feel the heat his own body was supplying, was certain the blue sparks clouding the corners of his blurring vision were melting his eyeballs. The pirate was slowing, staggering, writhing under it. A fresh sinew of blood dribbled down Craig's cheekbones, his heartbeat throbbing in his eyes. Harder. Harder. They were both going to live, they were both going to live, gonnalivegonnalivegonnalivegonna—

The pirate howled, throwing its head back. It was calling for backup. Craig could have sobbed, but he didn't even trust himself to blink. Everything was going dark. Everything hurt, most of all his eyes, and after all that continuous direct hitting of the laser, how could the pirate still move?

The memory of its fangs inches from his face flared up again, clouding his vision, and Craig felt himself shaking, his limbs going slack, his weight falling onto Kenny and Cartman. Cartman grunted loudly as if this were a great inconvenience, but Kenny just grit his teeth and hefted him higher, readjusting his grip so that he was practically carrying Craig back. Cars were screaming by, horns honking. Craig could just picture some idiot pulling over on the highway to film this on his iPhone instead of doing a Goddamn thing to help. Like blasting Peruvian panflute music from a video on YouTube.

Tweek had suggested they buy a CD. Why hadn't he listened? Maybe it could've helped, if he'd had Cartman and Kenny playing music on their phones. There hadn't been phones the last time he did this. Why didn't he listen to Tweek?

We're both gonna live. Craig's vision was going black, and he didn't have the energy to tell Kenny. If the pirate swerved, he wouldn't be able to see. He'd lose the direct hit. They'd all die here. What a crazy video that iPhone cameraman would get to upload to social media. It'd be the world's last viral sensation.

C U R S E Y E C R A I G D A R A R G H

The guinea pirate convulsed, its face twisting, mouth opening. Then it exploded into dust, sparks and tufts of fur bursting in every direction. Kenny and Cartman screamed, the overlapping noise somewhere between horror and relief. They stumbled to a stop, nearly falling over, and both turned to Craig. It was hard to tell with everything going grey, fuzzy, but Craig thought Cartman's face went white as a sheet, Kenny's eyes widening under the drooping aluminum foil helmet.

"Holy shit," Cartman stuttered.

Red flashed across Craig's vision, then everything went dark.

Chapter Text

The streets were right out of a postapocalyptic movie, desolate and stomped through, smashed through. Tweek pumped his arms with the effort to run through streets deserted by people, the snow crunching weakly under his boots, the fire extinguisher still clenched in one hand. The guinea creatures were nowhere to be seen, though they'd clearly been through here. All Tweek could think was how Craig said they were attracted to him. They'd followed him to the city limits, just like he promised. Tweek's chest strained with the effort of running as hard as he was, but he didn't slow down.

A burden. Even Kyle, his cosmic connection in all the insanity that had swirled around them since Mysterion came to town, thought he'd just get in the way. But he'd been the one who thought of the coffee. He'd been the one who thought of the fire extinguisher. Tweek was never going to be a burden to Craig again. Not now, not ever.

Groaning echoed off the darkened windows of the buildings Tweek passed as he raced through the city. He wished he had his car. In fact—

He took a shortcut through a side street and doubled back to their apartment building. The precious seconds ticking away clanged in his ears, but Tweek still burst into the door, up the staircase, and into their apartment for his car keys and, because it seemed like a good idea, the first aid kit. He grabbed a couple bottles of water, too, and, on an impulse, a worn crewneck sweatshirt of Craig's draped over one of the bar stools in their kitchenette.

In what was only a few minutes but felt like an hour, Tweek was revving up his car, tossing the fire extinguisher and supplies into the back seat, and yanking Craig's sweatshirt over his head. What with it being an emergency situation and all the cops otherwise occupied, Tweek gunned it out of the parking lot and towards the city limits.

The digital clock in the car told Tweek it had been a few hours since the first guinea creatures arrived. The image of Craig straining to hold back his lasers crossed his mind, and Tweek gritted his teeth. No one was on the road. A howl echoed in the distance. Tweek followed it. Normally he was the most cautious driver on the road, but Tweek was putting his faith in a greater power as he sped over snow-slicked roads. The earth shook underneath him a few times, and Tweek struggled to keep his hands on the wheel and the car upright. Stopping for a vehicle was definitely a good idea; even with a gas pedal, it was nearly twenty minutes to the edge of Denver.

The city grew more industrial around him, the noises of the upcoming highway already playing in his ears, and Tweek pushed the gas pedal down harder. Maybe he could ram the guinea creatures from behind. They were only fifteen times the size of his beat up little car. How bad could it be? Knowing he was reaching the city limits, Tweek moved forward anyway, car jostling as he steered off the road and away from the highway exits towards the land he knew Craig had chosen for his arena.

Tweek prepared himself for an onslaught of guinea creatures. He prepared himself for blood and teeth and fur. As quickly as he pushed it down, his brain even whispered that he ought to prepare himself to find monsters and no Craig. He did not anticipate the sight that met him.

Nothing.

Emptiness all around, grey-beige ashes powdering the snow, open space by the highway devoid of guinea creatures. He'd done it. Craig must have defeated them. Tweek lessened his lead foot to a more sensible mileage, then down to a veritable crawl. Craig. Where was Craig?

Amidst the snow and ash, Tweek made out two human-sized figures, one in black, the other green, and headed for them. Cartman and Kenny. His heart leapt into his throat. Why were there only two? As he drove closer, Tweek realized that they were crouched over a third person, and he gnawed on his lower lip. Please don't let him be too late. Please don't let Craig—

Kenny and Cartman both jumped to their feet when Tweek was about fifty feet from them and stared at the car until he got a little closer, then waved as if flagging him down. Like they weren't his destination. Tweek braked a little more harshly than he meant, killed the engine, and burst from the car.

"Dude, what are you doing here?" Kenny asked, voice brimming with relief.

"Took you long enough to back us up, asshole!" Cartman added. "Do you have any idea what we—"

Tweek grabbed each by a shoulder and shoved them apart as if he were opening a saloon door. Craig was lying in the snow, eyes shut, hair and face matted with blood. Tweek's breath caught in his throat. His lips were so pale, his whole face blanched, his hands still where they rested across his chest. Tweek stumbled to his side and dropped to his knees by Craig's head.

"He's alive," Kenny said quickly. "I...I think he's healing." When Tweek didn't acknowledge him, he continued. "All the laser beams hurt his eyes, I think. We got ambushed there at the end. I-I think he's just wiped out, and he'll be okay."

Tweek studied Craig's chest, the barely-there rise and fall that proved he was indeed breathing. He exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and gingerly touched his fingertips to Craig's temple.

"He's alive for now," Cartman said, nearly hysterical. "But there's no freaking way. His eyes were bleeding. His eyes! The sockets! I've never seen that before! After he finally beat the stupid rats, he had, like, a seizure, screaming and grabbing his eyes, and—"

"Cartman," Kenny growled, and Tweek could actually hear Cartman's next word dying in his throat.

"There's a..." Tweek's voice petered out against his will. "A first aid kit and water in the car. Can one of you get it?" Kenny did and brought the supplies back to Tweek, who set about cleaning Craig's face. "I don't want to leave him in the snow," Tweek said. "Do you think it's safe to move him?"

"I...I don't know." Kenny had removed Professor Chaos' helmet at some point, probably when he retrieved Tweek's supplies, and his whole expression cracked with regret. "Kyle would know what to do."

"Kahl doesn't know his ass from his elbow, he just uses big words to trick dumb poor people like you, Kinny."

"Kyle would know what to do," Tweek agreed with Kenny, ignoring Cartman. "They were on their way to get the bands. I just—I had to come back." He dabbed the last of the blood off of Craig's face, red streaks still showing here and there, and took in Craig's solemn resting expression. "I should've gotten here sooner." He put his hand over Craig's and nearly screamed when Craig's other hand immediately covered it.

"Jesus Christ!" Cartman yelled behind him.

"Tweek." Craig's lips barely moved, and the sound was a far-off utterance, slurred and unsure, but it was his voice, and that was what mattered.

"Craig? I'm right here." Tweek felt his hand trembling where it was, sandwiched between Craig's, and he squeezed Craig's hand more tightly to hide it.

"S'okay," Craig said. "Need rest s'all."

"We need to take you to the hospital," Tweek said, and Craig groaned in protest. "Don't argue with me. Listen, just—"

Craig gasped, eyes flying open, and Tweek was grateful he wasn't leaning over his boyfriend, because as soon as his eyes were open, the lasers shot out again. With a stifled cry, Craig struggled to shut his eyes again and pulled his hands up from his chest to cover them. His fingers dug into his scalp.

"See?" Cartman said. "That's the shit he pulled before!"

Craig whined in pain, and Tweek wanted to punch Cartman's lights out but couldn't reach. "Hit him for me," he told Kenny, who acquiesced without a moment's hesitation. Cartman squawked when Kenny's fist landed solidly in the center of his face.

"Craig," Tweek said, leaning closer but not over Craig's face just in case. He put his hand to Craig's cheek, stroking comfortingly, grateful that he wasn't shaking too badly. "Craig, it's okay."

"I can't control it," Craig whispered, his fingernails digging into his skin, twisting into his hair. "I can't turn it off as long as they're here."

So there were more. Tweek sucked in a deep breath. "Okay, Craig, relax. Relax." Normally, Tweek knew his voice was no comfort: high pitched, fast, strangled, as if it were going through a blender. Craig was the one with the soothing voice, low and unhurried. Tweek stroked his cheek again and watched Craig bite his lower lip. Peeking out from under the cuff of Craig's hoodie sleeve, Tweek caught sight of his tattoo. It was horrible, suddenly sunken into his skin like a brand, raw around the edges of the black lines. He swallowed. "Craig, you told me the last time you were able to get yourself under control by focusing on your tattoos. Can you do that for me now?"

Craig grunted. His palms shook over his eyes, and Tweek saw blue sparks blistering at the corners of his squeezed-shut eyelids. On instinct, he reached up with his free hand and tugged at Craig's sleeve, pulling it further down. Behind him, he heard Kenny inhale sharply; the marks only looked more painful the further up Craig's forearm they twined. As gingerly as he could, Tweek placed his fingertips at the end of the spindly lines twining around Craig's wrist and traced the marks.

"Follow my fingers," he said. Craig pressed his lips together.

"Not safe," he said through clenched teeth. "Get back."

"I'm not going anywhere," Tweek told him. "You've had plenty of opportunities to leave me behind." He paused. "And nobody would've blamed you, least of all me. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around."

"Love. You," Craig grit back, his voice sharp not only from pain. If he hadn't been straining, Tweek knew the full sentence would have been I don't care about that, I love you.

Tweek shushed him, running his fingers farther up the markings burning against his fingerprints. "I know. Because of who I am, and sometimes in spite of it, you stick with me. Well, I'm the same way. You've stayed by me when I couldn't stop twitching and making stupid noises. And believed I was capable of things I thought impossible. And valued me when I didn't value myself. So I'm gonna fix whatever's hurting you now."

"Gay," Cartman said behind him. The ensuing crack and yelp of pain suggested that Kenny hadn't needed an order to land a second punch.

"Why are you even here? Why aren't you in jail right now?"

"That's confidential, Kinny."

"We're stronger than people give us credit for," Tweek said, keeping his voice low, still tracing the tattoos. Craig's shaking was subsiding, the indent in his lip where he bit it lessening. It was weird to be on this side of comfort, but nice. Relieving, really, to know that Tweek could give as well as take. "They think you're a statue and I'm a freak, but they're wrong." 

What might have been a smile ghosted across Craig's face. His fingers relaxed, palms slipping down his face. Tweek's fingers reached the inked sun that encircled Craig's elbow. Instead of trailing his fingertips up the rest of his arm, Tweek moved his hand to Craig's collarbone, picturing the coffeepot of stars hidden under his jacket.

"And we're even stronger together," he said. Craig swallowed once, twice. Stopped shaking. Let his shoulders relax. He dragged his hands further down his face, letting his fingers flex, and slowly but surely opened his eyes to stare up at Tweek. A second or two later, his eyes widened and lips parted.

Behind them, from the industrial cusp of Denver's city limits, the sound of panflutes cut through the night.

Chapter Text

Cartman glared down at the taquitos in front of him. "You know, when the Avengers saved the world, they got shawarma."

"Well, A, you said you'd never eat at a place that served falafel, even though you don't know what falafel is," Craig droned, spooning more refried beans onto his plate. "And, B, for four in the morning when everything is closed, this is significantly better than the twenty-four-hour McDonald's."

"It's terrific!" Butters chimed in. They'd left helmets, cowls, and masks in the trunk and did a backseat clothing swap, so Butters had on Mysterion's top and Kyle's pants, Kenny had on his own pants and Chaos' top, and Kyle had on Chaos' poofy sweatpants.

"It's not even supposed to be open," Tweek added, taking a bite of his enchilada. He hummed with satisfaction, his tongue peeking between his lips to catch an extra drip of sauce, and Craig smiled.

"Yes, and, I must say, Kinny, it's very mah-tour of you to be so cool with the fact that we're getting special treatment because Kahl is, ah, friendly with the busboy."

Kyle slammed both fists down on the table. "Shut up, Fatass! Who even invited you?"

Behind the counter, the couple who owned the restaurant exchanged glances over the mountain of food they were preparing for when they officially opened in an hour. Their son, the young man who'd unlocked Nueva Familia when Kyle called, burst out from the back room.

"'Ey!" he called. He made a fist and stuck his thumb out, jerking it over his shoulder. "Kyle, if he's bothering you, he gets the boot."

"I'm not bothering anybody, David, Jesus!" Cartman shoved taquitos into his mouth with both hands.

"Davíd," Kyle corrected for the umpteenth time since they'd arrived.

"David."

"Davíd!"

Kenny put a hand over Kyle's and patted it sympathetically. "I punched Cartman twice before you guys got there. In the face. Tell him, Tweek."

"He did," Tweek said. Kyle smiled and bumped his shoulder against Kenny's. "Do you think Davíd would mind if we took some things to go? I bet Clyde would love these tacos."

Craig could feel his lids drooping. They'd been up all night and his stomach was full, which meant it was time for a nap. Good thing the office was closed for New Year's. Half the bullpen would be taking a vacation day otherwise. 

He glanced down at his phone and scrolled through updates on the situation. They knew and the police knew that it was the Peruvian flute bands who'd chased the guinea creatures back to...wherever. The Andes, maybe. But the rest of the world was under the impression that Denver had been hit by some freak storm or tornado or something. Even people live-tweeting the guinea creatures' attacks were being called Photoshop hacks. They hadn't appeared anywhere else in the world. But at least now they were gone, with few injuries and even fewer casualties. Craig closed his eyes.

"So...is the Coon a good guy now?" Butters asked, blinking up from a taquito. "Since you helped save the world this time?"

"The Coon was always a good guy, Butters! Get your facts straight!"

"Oh, sorry, Eric."

"But now that you mention it..." Cartman continued smoothly, a politician's voice if ever Craig heard one. "We've accumulated quite a gang of heroes, haven't we? The Coon, Chaos, Mysterion, I suppose. And now Craig."

"Super Craig," Butters offered. When everyone looked at him, he flushed and studied his taquito intently.

"I like it," Craig said. Butters flashed him a grateful smile.

"Four members," Cartman said. "All we need is a chick, and we've got our own band of heroes."

"Sorry, fellas, I've got classes," Karen said, beating her brother to the last taquito. "I bet the future Mrs. Marsh'll do it."

"I bet they take each other's names, like Beyoncé and Jay-Z," Kenny said. "Or they just squish their names together. The Marshburgers. Oh my God, that sounds delicious."

"No, it doesn't, Kenny, ugh!" Kyle pulled a face.

"You guys!" Cartman yelled, immediately shushed by the table when the restaurant owners looked up in alarm. "I'm being seriously! We could be the next Avengers! Or Justice League, depending on how that does at the box office, but let's go with Avengers for now."

"And what will we call ourselves?" Kyle drawled.

Cartman puffed up his chest and arced his hands in front of himself as if illustrating a comic book title. "Coon and Friends."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Nobody asked you, Kahl!"

"Sure, why not?" Craig said, pocketing his phone. At the looks from around the table, ranging from confused to incredulous, he added, "Mysterion'll be our leader."

"What! It's not Mysterion and Friends, Craig, Jesus!"

Kenny's eyes twinkled. "I appreciate the sentiment, but Mysterion's retired outside of appearances for the kiddies." He fist-bumped Butters. "He just came out of retirement for the day as a favor to the chosen one."

Craig snorted. Kyle's phone beeped, and he checked it, frowning at the screen.

"Well," Craig said, "hopefully the chosen one can join Mysterion in retirement. Saving the world twice in one lifetime deserves a vacation, I think." He sighed, studying the near-empty plate in front of him. "I wonder, though..."

"What?" Tweek asked, looking up at him. His eyes were wide, but not frightened. Craig chuckled.

"The pirate said he'd been given a second chance. I just...wondered what he meant by that."

"Stan?" Kenny guessed, looking at Kyle as he fiddled with his phone.

"Nope," Kyle said, putting it back in his pocket. "Just an ad for some sort of cult."