Perfectly of Tide~
Laundry reminds Craig of a time when everything wasn't complete shit. When he was a little boy, before his dad lost his job, before his mom fell into depression, Craig always helped with the laundry. He'd sort; whites and darks and colors. Making sure each piece was right-side-out (except for dark jeans). Checking to see that each sock had its mate.
The washer took one-and-a-half Red Racer's to wash the clothes. Craig's mom always moved the clothes into the dryer so that he didn't have to miss the end of his episode, even if it was one he'd seen tens of times. When Red Racer was over, Craig raced his way into the laundry room and parked himself in front of the dryer for the next 40ish minutes, watching the clothes spin. Mesmerized and calmed. Knowing that his favorite part was coming soon.
"Mom!" Craig screamed as the dryer buzzed, even though he never screamed. The dark haired boy bounced up and down on his toes excitedly, waiting for his mother to come. She scooped all the laundry out of the dryer and carried it to the living room. "Quickly," Craig muttered under his breath as he ran ahead. He lay on the floor and she dropped the clothes, every last piece, on top of him.
Craig squirmed under the warmth. This was the best feeling in the world; he was sure of it. He took a deep breath, wishing he could live in the pile of so clean clothes forever. A place where it was warm and smelled perfectly of Tide. But, just like always, the pile soon lost its warmth; a reminder, even at Craig's young age of 5 or 6 or whatever, that there was nothing truly perfect. He folded the laundry, meticulously and better than his mother. Making sure each piece was right-side-out. Checking to see that each sock had its mate.
Years passed and things went to complete shit. Craig's mom rarely left the couch; Ruby rarely left her room. Craig did the laundry. All of it. Always. No thoughtful mother to move the load from the washer to the dryer just so he wouldn't miss the end of Red Racer. It wasn't the same dumping the laundry onto himself, but he did it anyway. He could still pretend that he lived in a world that was warm and smelled like Tide. Laundry made him happy. Laundry made him calm. Laundry made him think of a smiling, beautiful mother and an employed, one-beer-after-dinner father.
People always laughed at him when he offered to do their laundry. They didn't get it. Craig just wanted to be close to them. Laundry was emotional for him; intimate, almost. He didn't joke about laundry.
Craig meets Tweek way back in the days when his mom is still doing laundry. He doesn't notice that the other boy smells like Tide until many, many years later. When Craig gets the courage to ask if he can do Tweek's laundry, it's been years since they met and they're friends. Tweek looks at him curiously for a fraction of a second and then nods, saying the noises freak him out.
So he does his own laundry. And Tweek's. And when they move in together, he does all the laundry together. And when they have kids, their little outfits are added to the mix. Now, Craig dumps the pile of clothes onto them, because he no longer needs it, and smiles as they squirm under the warmth.
A/N: I rather like this :) I wish that I could bang everything out in one sitting, like I did with this. I never like it as much if it take me a few days or whatever. Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought!