The waiting wasn't the worst part. Certainly, it was painful—the ticking of the clock nagged at Thomas in such a way that he often tried to sleep the hours away—but it was still outdone. No, it wasn't the slow passage of time that was really ruining his life... It was the knowing.

Knowing exactly where his husband was. Knowing what he was doing. Knowing who he was doing it with…and knowing the real meanings of things like "business trip" and "the meeting is running over, don't wait up."

So when the door opened and Craig finally sauntered in, it wasn't a feeling of relief that washed over Thomas. Instead, he felt sickened and maybe somewhat panicked.

"Hey—sorry I'm so late. But I had an important meeting—"

"Yeah, yeah, of course you did," Thomas said wearily, letting out a curse word despite himself. Mostly, he had grown out of his Tourette's syndrome, but it still got to him when he felt stressed.

Craig's eyes narrowed slightly. "It almost sounds like you don't believe me," he said, watching Thomas closely.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't." Thomas stood with his empty soda can and headed for the kitchen. "Dinner's in the fridge," he said over his shoulder.

But it wasn't long before Craig had slipped in front of Thomas, frowning and blocking the hallway. "What do you mean, you don't believe me?" he asked, visibly agitated. "I was at work. Where else would I have been? You know very well how hard I work to pay for all this—" Craig gestured at their surroundings— "so please don't make snide remarks about whatever theory you've made up about what I'm doing."

Thomas laughed. "Okay. Sure," he said, daintily stepping around Craig and entering the kitchen. He threw out his soda can and turned to exit, but this time, Craig was leaning in the doorframe, leaving no space for Thomas to depart. "Please move," he said icily.

"How about no," Craig said, perhaps somewhat childishly. "Why don't you explain to me where you think I've been?"

"Oh, I don't know," Thomas retorted. "Maybe out with your other blonde?"

Craig froze. "What?"

Rolling his eyes, Thomas crossed his arms, mimicking Craig. "One wasn't enough, huh?"

"The hell are you talking about."

"Uh. Tweek? You do realize I'm not stupid, right? SHIT!"

"What about Tweek?"

Angrier now than he'd thought he would be, Thomas stood his ground. "Well, I thought he was the type of person who would respect that you were married and, therefore, off-limits. But then again, maybe he did at first. I know how you are about getting your way."

"Tweek hasn't done anything wrong!" Craig hissed, clenching his fists.

"Uh. Actually? Hooking up with you is pretty damn wrong in my book. And pretty much everyone else's, by the way. I suppose you haven't noticed how none of your friends have been answering your calls. Except Tweek, I suppose."

"What exactly are you accusing me of here?"

Thomas sighed impatiently. "Obviously I'm accusing you of having an affair, you fucking retard. By the way, I didn't realize that a 'hockey game with the guys' meant you playing tonsil hockey with that spaz."

"I'm not cheating, Thomas!" Craig yelled, stepping forward. "How could you say that? I've been working my ass off to make life great for you and this is how I'm repaid? You assume I'm sleeping with one of my best friends? Thanks a lot!"

A moment of silence passed before Thomas began to clap. "That was some convincing righteous fury there, babe. That shit takes talent. Maybe you should've been a lawyer after all."

Craig's cheeks flushed in anger. "What has you so convinced I'm lying? I'm not! I honestly did have a meeting today, and any other day that I said I had one. I swore I wouldn't lie to you when we fucking got married, and I haven't broken that promise. Why can't you just accept what I'm telling you and let this go?"

"Because you're lying straight to my face! If you're being honest, why the hell did I get out of the shower two weeks ago only to find a message on the answering machine from a drunken Tweek, saying how much he loved you and that 'last night was the best night of my life?'"

Eyes widening, Craig whispered, "What? What day was that?"

"Thursday. It was a fucking Thursday, not that it even matters. And with the don't-wait-up calls, and the mismatching timeframes, and the fact that every time you go out with your friends—our friends, actually, although I'm rarely invited nowadays—Tweek is there? You were together in high school, Craig. You never bothered to tell me about it, but I found out. And you know what? I'm done with this. I'm done with you and your lies, and your anger issues, and your teenage behaviour. I don't need it, I can't take it—my fucking Tourette's is coming back, you know I can't work like that—and I'm not going to settle for it. Kyle's got a friend who's a divorce lawyer, and I'm calling him tomorrow. But for now, you can get the fuck out of here."

"Wait…Thomas. No! I'm not a cheater! I love you, I don't want to get divorced," Craig pleaded, moving to grab his husband's arms. He desperately stared into Thomas's eyes and said, "I swear to you right now that I have never cheated on you in my entire life. And I never will if you just let me—"

But Thomas was shaking his head. "I can't believe you're still trying this shit. Get out."

After another half-hour's worth of begging, Craig finally found himself walking the poorly-lit streets of South Park. He knew where he was going. He just wished the walk was shorter so he wouldn't have time to think.

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped into the nearly-deserted coffee shop. A few self-proclaimed indie kids trying to look indifferent littered the corner, but other than them, no one was around besides Craig and the bored barista. "Hey!" Tweek called as Craig paused in the doorway. "What are you doing h-here?" He twitched. "Your apartment building didn't catch on fire, did it?"

"No," Craig said, ignoring the gawks of the hipsters and striding forward to lean his elbows on the counter, folding his arms on top of them. "Wouldn't matter if it did now, because I just got kicked out."

"GAH! Why?"

Craig surveyed Tweek a moment before sighing. "Thomas thought I was cheating on him. With you."

Tweek began to shiver nervously at this as he set a cup of coffee—black, the way Craig liked—on the counter. "Is that why no one will talk to me anymore? I thought I had leprosy or herpes or something and I was going crazy so I couldn't see any of the physical symptoms and I actually was going to schedule a doctor's appointment tomorrow—"

"Shut up," Craig said gruffly, picking up his coffee and having a sip. "I got kicked out. For real, he swears he wants a divorce. I don't know what to do."

"Ack!" Tweek cried, cowering under Craig's sullen gaze. "Do you want me to try to talk to him? I don't…I don't think he'd believe me."

"You're right, he wouldn't." With another sip, Craig said, "He mentioned a voicemail from you from the night after I introduced you to that Christophe guy at the bar. Apparently you were drunk and saying you loved me and something about 'last night…'"

"Oh," Tweek blushed. "Sorry. I don't remember sending that…You know how I get. When I d-drink. Everyone's always saying I'm going to get kidnapped one of these days. It's probably true. Some kidnapper is going to appear out of nowhere and he'll just hand me a beer and I'll take it and immediately trust him because I love alcohol and then I'll get drunk after like two drinks and then he could just fucking kidnap me without even trying and in the morning I'll wake up like whoa, where am I, and—"

Grunting to shut Tweek up, Craig took a long gulp of his beverage. "Tweek, that isn't going to happen because I don't let you drink by yourself. But seriously—don't you care that I just ruined my fucking life?"

Tweek's face went pink again. "I guess I kind of ruined it. GAH! Sorry. I really am sorry, Craig. I just don't know what to do here." His voice was frantic, and he quickly began to quake again. "It's too much pressure! I don't know how to solve your marriage problems! I never know how to help with anything! Ack!"

"Yeah, you do," Craig said, amused despite himself. "Even though I'm fucking miserable, you're making me laugh." He let himself snicker a bit at Tweek's bewildered (and terrified) expression. "You know what? Maybe I should have been cheating. Thomas was always such an asshole."

Tweek rolled his eyes a little with a nervous smile. "But you're an asshole, too."

"I know. There really shouldn't be two in one relationship." Craig finished off his coffee and narrowed his eyes at the grating sound of the teen hipsters' vocal fry. "I've been wasting my time."

"You love him, though," Tweek said, biting his lip once he'd noticed the kids' eyes were glued to his back.

"Loved. If he can't trust me and won't listen to me, then I guess we're just not right for each other, you know?"

"Uh. No."

Craig's brow furrowed. "It's not like you've never had a boyfriend before."

Tweek nervously pulled at the collar of his uniform black polo. "Well, yeah, but, uh…" He guiltily trailed off, and Craig realized what he was getting at.

"Oops. I forgot that all your relationships have been pretty much perfect, and you're the one who dumps."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize for being perfect."

Again twitching, Tweek cleared his throat uncertainly. "Obviously I'm not," he said in discomfort. "I'm twitchy and paranoid and I somehow got in the way of your marriage without even noticing. I kind of suck."

"You really don't."

There was a moment of tentative silence before Tweek looked away. "Fuck," he said, pulling at his hair and slamming his elbows on the counter. "I'm freaking terrible, man!"

Craig simply laughed. "Hey, I'm a free man now. But do you mind telling Token nothing was happening? I'll tell Kenny, hopefully not get divorced, and a couple months from now we can go back to normal." He paused. "Right?"

"Um…" Tweek looked around uneasily before fixing his eyes on Craig once more. "Well, yeah. Probably."

Craig sighed but turned, ready to leave. "Well, I'll be off then. Gotta go find Ken, I can crash with him tonight—"

"Wait!" Tweek cried. He ran his fingers over the edge of his apron as he asked, "What can I do?"

"Until then?" Craig said lightly, stepping up to the counter again. He patted Tweek's cheek, catching him off guard. "We should probably keep away from each other."

"No!"

Tweek's head swiveled to look at the beanie-headed youths in the corner behind him. "What?" he asked sourly. (He was pretty tired of their constant presence from eight PM until closing every night.)

"Don't you love him?" asked a girl in no-longer-ironic grandma glasses. She sounded disappointed.

To this, Tweek could only scowl as Craig glared. "We're closed," he said shortly. "Get out of here."

"Whatever!" called one of the girl's companions. He rose with his long-empty paper cup. "You guys don't have to admit how you feel. But just so you know, I'm going to write a beautiful screenplay about this." The hipsters murmured their encouragement and left defiantly.

Tweek and Craig looked at each other awkwardly. "Uh…" Tweek said uncomfortably.

"Yeah," Craig answered. "I'm going back to my husband."

AN: Took the liberty of rewriting this to make it far less problematic.

-Cpt. Essex Cole