A/N: Once Again, I do not own South Park... If I did, that would be awesome but the point is, I don't. Soooo, with that being said, I am borrowing Mr. Craig Tucker and Tourettes Boy Thomas to create a multi-chapter story based around their separate thoughts and lives and how well they fit together. Rated T for now due to some brief language. May be changed to M for later chapters. Enjoy! R/R
Waking up early had never been a problem for Craig Tucker. Even on the weekends, the raven-haired male would set his alarm for six a.m. and never once hit the snooze button after said alarm went off. That's just how he worked. He would then proceed to drag himself downstairs, start a pot of coffee, and slip into the laundry room. Ah, laundry...his dirty little secret. Craig loved laundry more than life itself. The scent, the feel of fresh clothes hot out of the dryer... It made him hot in ways that no girl could, or boy for that matter.
Deep down, Craig was a perfectionist and couldn't control his obsessive compulsive desire to perfect nearly everything he did. That was why he formed his own routine to better the act of washing his clothes as well as the clothes of those that he cared for. Firstly, Separate all items into darks and whites, then the darks into their own separate colors. When all whites, colors, and darks were completely distinctive, those separated piles would be separated further into shirts, socks and underwear, jeans and trousers, and finally the odds and ends (hats, scarves, etc). Organization was key! Chaos was not wanted here.
Measuring out the perfect amount of laundry detergent, he would then mix it with the running water and slowly add each piece of clothing from one of the piles to that mixture, making sure that they were equally soaked with suds. And then...He waited.
During that wait, Craig usually moved back to the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee (black), and ended right back up in the laundry room once more to await that precious buzzer to sound. It may have been crazy or dumb to others, but he just didn't care. Tucker had a nice boring life and he liked it that way. Boring...Always boring.
Boring Craig Tucker with his boring name and his boring looks. Straight black hair and dark blue eyes. Skinny and toned, but not muscular. Tall and lanky, not to mention a little bit awkward. He had braces on his teeth and a pet guinea pig named Stripe (his fifth since he had been a child). Everything about him was boring and even though he liked the fact that his life had no action, he didn't exactly care to say that HE himself was a boring guy...Sure, doing laundry got him off and he didn't really like toppings on his pizza, but that didn't mean that he had no depth...right?
Just like any other morning, he was sitting atop the whirling washing machine when the realization hit him. The raven-haired male's mouth dropped open and eyes narrowed in his concentration on the subject. He took a quick sip of his coffee before letting out a distressed sigh and slouching back, letting his head hit the wall behind him. He had...no depth. "I have...no depth.." A frown formed on his lips as he listened to himself state the obvious aloud. Hell, even his voice was monotonous...Not that he had really cared until this particular point in time. What. The. Fuck?
Quickly slipping off of the washing machine and out of the laundry room, dark blue hues scanned the wall clock for the time, sighing when he read that it was only seven. Seven in the morning on a Saturday to be exact. "Ah, fuck it..." He was desperate. Too desperate. Pulling his cell phone out of his pajama bottoms, he took a seat at his kitchen table and thumbed through his contacts, looking for one name in particular. Once found, he clicked, quickly keyed a text, and then sent. To his utmost surprise, his phone was chiming only a few seconds later with a response. Eagerly reading it, a small, subtle smile started to bloom on his lips by the time he was finished. Thomas... Oh that kid had a way of melting his heart. It felt almost as good to talk to him as it did to put on a tee-shirt straight from the dryer.
Thomas was the key if there was one and Craig knew it. If he had any depth at all, surely it would show itself around the skittish blond whom he'd forced his friendship upon ten years ago. And now, with plans in the process of being made, the raven-haired, boring male could relax just a little bit... and continue to wait for that buzzer to sound. After pouring himself another cup of coffee, that's exactly what Craig did. Hiding away in his laundry room, he perched himself once more upon the trembling machine and sat in complete silence, engulfing himself in the scent and the sounds of the thing that comforted him the most.
