I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK
A little while ago I posted a chapter story with Trans! Craig in it. Today I have come to tell all you losers that Trans Craig is still well and alive within my soul. The characters are OOC due to my need to show Craig in vulnerable positions and Tweek being the protector or whatever, and also because I have to keep up my reputation of being the shittiest fanfic writer on this godforsaken website.
PSA: DO NOT BIND W ACE BANDAGE. IT CAN CAUSE SEVERAL HEALTH PROBLEMS SUCH AS DAMAGE TO YOUR LUNGS AND RIBS. BUY A BINDER. LOVE URSELF.
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I didn't like church.
Not because I was sacreligious or a heathen or whatever, but because when I went to church, I had to wear my hair down.
Not only that, but my mother dolled me up in my sunday best- a bright yellow sundress and black tights. She used to let me pass in a nice dress shirt and pants, but as she's reminded me so many times since I was twelve: "you're a growing woman, Chris. You can't dress like a little boy anymore."
These words, as you might guess for someone in my position, were nothing short of traumatic.
I stood in front of my mirror, naked save for a vanilla colored towel wrapped loose around my waist. I examined my angular jawline, running my fingertips over my pale skin. I stared into my reflection, trying to avoid trailing my eyes down to my chest. Puberty had been kind to it, but mean to me. It was a moment of searching my soft face and wondering who the hell I was. I could t envision myself as anybody else, but I knew the person I was standing before in the mirror was not me.
A knock sounded at my door.
"Hey. You done?" Tweek asked, and I could hear him tapping his blunt fingernails on the wooden slab. What an impatient dork.
"N-no. I'll be done in a little."
"Let me come in. Your mom's totally giving me the stink eye. I think she knows I'm a godless hooligan," Tweek joked. He'd grown much calmer lately, wonderfully. He said it was due to him picking up a habit of smoking, but I knew for a fact that that boy had never taken a blunt to his lips in his entire seventeen years.
"I'm not dressed!" I squeaked, rushing to find underpants. I shoved my legs into some pink boxer briefs and frantically yanked them up to my hips.
"So what? We used to see each other naked all the time."
"We were kids!" I rebounded, grabbing an ace bandage and wrapping it around my chest with practice. I had been stealthily wearing a makeshift binder to constrict my small chest for a while now. I knew it was unhealthy to use bandage, but I reasoned that it'd only be for an hour or two, tops.
"We're still kids. You know what? No. Your mom is looking at me like I'm talking to myself. I'm coming in."
I panicked and flattened myself to my dresser as Tweek barged in and settled his bright brown eyes upon my semi naked form. His expression softened and his brow knit. I felt my stomach boil over until I could taste the bile rising in my throat.
"Oh," Tweek said softly, seemingly feigning understanding.
"Tweek, it's really not what it looks like, I swear, I-"
He cut me of with a shake of his head, closing my door behind him with his foot and advancing towards me slowly as if he were afraid of hurting me or startling me. And here I was under the impression that he was the nervous one.
Tweek took in a labored breath before swallowing his spit and speaking up.
"It's, uh, too tight. It'll fall off if you bend over. Here, let me help you." Tweek settled his hands on my sloppy binder and I flinched, cowering. This was my weakness. My moment of sheer vulnerability. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to throw up right then. Reluctantly, I let him help, moving forwards and guiding his hands to the tucked in side of the bandage.
Tweek pulled it off, slowly unravelling it. I felt so open and exposed like this, it was completely out of my usual realm of comfort. Tweek looked unfazed however, gazing at my chest for only a moment before going to work. He bunched the bandage up in his hands and then went to work, propping part of the strip under my armpit and gently wrapping me back up. His body was uncomfortably close to mine, warmth radiating off his clothed chest. His lips gently brushed my ear- whether intentionally or not, I didn't know. I found myself arching my back and letting my eyes fall shut.
"How long have you felt like this?" He muttered, finishing up the binding and tucking the end back into the wrap.
"I don't know. I'm not even sure if I'm even like this. It's probably a phase. I don't know." I mumbled.
"Chris-"
"Craig. Call me Craig."
Tweek quickly corrected himself. "Craig. I think you look so handsome."
I laughed a bit and turned around so that I could face him. He had an entire six inches on me, and he looked like the gangly member of a small town rock band. A scruffy goatee graced his chin, and his hair was pulled back by a beanie to keep out of his eyes.
"Do I?" I asked, cocking a brow.
"Yeah. Do you want to keep going?"
"With?"
"This. Do you want this?"
I thought for a moment. He eyed my long black hair, and I caught his drift. I bit my lip anxiously.
"Mom would kill me," I hummed, unsure.
"If she doesn't like it, we can run away to my house for the weekend. We've got an hour before the procession begins. Make the most out of it?" Tweek reasoned. I couldn't resist indulging in that coy tone of voice. I breathed out a chuckle and nodded.
"Okay," I said, "Okay."
Tweek grinned wide enough to split his face in two and plucked my craft scissors from my dresser. Still face to face with me, he gathered a clump of my long black hair in his hands and shoved it into the long beak of the scissors. And then he cut it.
I felt my eyebrows shoot up as the weight of my hair dissapeared. "Oh my god. Oh my god you actually cut it!"
"I said I would," he replied simply, hacking off more and more, trying to make me presentable. He finally managed to fashion it into something decent and cupped my face,examining his handiwork.
"I think I should become a hairdresser, because damn you look hot."
"Can I turn around to see myself in the mirror?"
"Not yet. You need one more thing," he flashed me a smile.
Tweek pulled off very slowly his dress clothing, and undid his tie. He slipped off his belted black jeans and white cotton dress shirt. Now he was revealed. Tweek hardly showed his skin, and I was captivated by all the scars and waning bruises and deformities that graced his chest and legs like an abstract painting. He was like an inverse coloring of the galaxy and stars. I knew the kid was a boxer, but the sheer multitude of his injuries still made me a bit uncomfortable. He seemed shy about his body, but overcame what apprehension he had to fashion the shirt over my head and the pants over my legs. He tucked the coton into my waistline and buckled the belt.
"Turn around. Close your eyes." Tweek demanded. I complied.
He told me to open them and I let my jaw drop. I looked like I had been wanting. Suddenly I could see it. I could see my masculine shoulders and wonderful sharp jawline. My short hair cupped my face just right, and Tweek's dress clothes, while slightly loose on my short frame, felt natural to wear.
I turned around, smile etched on to my face.
"Your mother is going to skin me alive, man," Tweek shook his head. I laughed and looked up at him.
"It's your turn. Close your eyes." I said decidedly.
After assuring him that I wouldn't slit his throat with my craft scissors, he let his eyelids slip shut. I got on to my tip toes and wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing his head down to kiss me. His lips met mine and we moved slowly and unsure, as though we had forever been innocent kids just learning to be intimate on the school playground.
His hands traveled down my back and arched me into him, breaking the kiss for a breath or two of air before meeting again. I tangled my fingers into his hair and tugged softly, earning a soft him of approval.
Suddenly I pulled back. He looked slightly hurt, but didn't try and force me back into the embrace.
"Dude," I chuckled. "Did we totally just kiss?"
"I think we did." He laughed back, driving his nose into the crook of my neck and letting us savor the moment.
It took me a few moments to realize he was almost completely naked. I pushed him back playfully. "Get a shirt on, you weirdo."
Tweek complied, fishing through his bag he'd brought over to stay the night and pulling on a sweatshirt and pants.
"Chris! Get down here! Church starts in ten!"
I offered a hopeful glance to Tweek before shouting back: "Mom, I think I'd be better off cutting Sunday instead."