Creek

Paranoid.

A/N: No owning of southpark from me. And after walking from the cinema back to my boyfriends place, talking about my paranoia, I thought this would be a good one.

I don't like to walk on my own. Anywhere. You never know when someone's going to come up to you and cover your mouth so you can't scream, and drag you away from your friends while they're not looking. My friends got used to my ADD and constant disappearing of my own free will, so they wouldn't come looking for me anyway probably. Well, Craig might.

Craig's always got tabs on where I am, and it makes me feel safer to know someone knows where I am at all times.

I don't like locked rooms either. You never know what's in the room before you go in. I want to know I have a quick escape in case something comes up behind me and I have that window of opportunity to escape. I'll take it, even if I have to punch something in the jaw with my feeble little fists. I know how much momentum it takes to take down and underpants gnome.

And while I can sometimes bring myself to walk alone during the day, what with the large crowds of people who I can keep my eye on and rely on to notice if I get stabbed or kidnapped, the night is the worst. When the few last souls are out walking around, no one there to see you get raped in the middle of a field, and no one probably willing to help. Except Craig, maybe.

I don't know how it happened, but one night out I ended up separated from my friends in a drunken haze, outside with a cigarette in my hands, ready to stab someone if the need arises with it. Though, I doubt a cigarette burn would affect a fellow drunkard. That's entirely beside the point however.

Wandering around, glancing about nervously to make sure I knew that the smoker across the street was still on the same paving tile, or that the girls pouring out the club would need a better run up to take me down, I attempted to find my lost friends.

Eventually, I came across a brightly lit pizza shop, Clyde sprawled across a table with a slight drool pouring from his mouth, Red sat next to him with her head on his stomach. Token sat across from them, arm around Wendy, her giggling into his mouth as they attempted to make out. My evening seemed to light up slightly as I started to make my way to the pizza place, cigarette still in my hand. Arriving outside the doors, I took another drag, noticing that there was half the cigarette left.

Due to lack of coffee, that half a cigarette would have to suffice for now, and with my friends in sight, I felt a little less paranoid about the smoker down the street.

That is, until a group of men started to gather outside of the club next to the pizza shop, bawling loudly amongst themselves. I huddled into a little ball, hoping I was inconspicuous.

Too inconspicuous, apparently, when one of the drunk men picked up a bottle, raising it over his head, a few last drops of larger flowing over his shoulder as he aimed for behind me, standing far-too-close for comfort.

I moved, hoping not to get hit, and was noticed, as he moved with me, putting the bottle down. I twitched nervously.

"Sorry sweetheart, I 'n't mean ta scare ya," he slurred, grinning at me like a lunatic. I forced a smile and shook my head. "Yo're very pretty, aren't ya?"

"Thank you," I murmured, taking a deep drag on my cigarette, glancing at how much was left. He didn't drop it there however, and I looked over to my friends desperately, seeing them all still as intoxicated as before. While my eyes scattered back to the man however, I saw a dark haired boy behind him, at the till in the pizza shop, glaring at him through the window, and immediately felt myself relax at the sight of that familiar glare.

"How abou' you gimme yer digits?" he asked, pulling out his phone. "I ain' about to let a pretty girl like you go tha' fast."

I blinked once. I blinked twice. "Excuse me?"

He grinned that disturbingly large grin once again. "Are ya' foreign?"

Realising the man was in fact drunk enough to think I was a girl, and probably wouldn't notice the American accent I had; I jumped on that band wagon. "Yes."

I glimpsed into the shop at my hero, seeing the impatient foot tapping as he looked between the lady behind the counter and the man in front of me.

"Com'on, give us yer number."

"My boyfriend," I said nervously, pointing to the shop window. "Wouldn't like that."

He stared at me in silence for a split second, before an arm encompassed my shoulders. I tensed, nose flaring at the stench of larger and alcohol. "It'll be fine!"

With lack of a better solution, I retreated to the idea of being foreign again. "Excuse me?"

"Don' worry, its fine!" he said, grin returning, phone still out. "I'll give ya ma digits—"

Holding the cigarette tightly between my index finger and thumb, fully ready to stab him in the eye with it, I shook my head with an awkward smile. He continued to press, and I continued to try slink away.

Another arm seemed to wrap round my shoulders, snaking under the man's and forcing him off me subtly. I glanced up as my side hit another's, seeing stormy grey eyes staring down the man. I felt a smile tug at my lips.

"Hello," Craig greeted curtly, pulling me closer. His free hand curled around my cigarette, taking it and dropping it on the floor. "Ready to go get food?" he asked me.

I nodded happily.

"Is this yer boyfriend?" the man asked me.

Craig raised a brow at me and as a blush crept onto my face he replied for me. "Yes, I am."

"You got a very pretty gerl."

"Thank you."

The drunken man's friends came to his assistance, glancing at Craig and laughed, apologising for their friends 'behaviour' and dragging him away, the man still insisting on taking my number. Craig pulled me inside the pizza shop, guiding me to their table. Wendy was now eating the pizza that had been placed on Clyde's stomach, Red also digging into it. Token greeted Tweek and Craig, asking them where they'd been.

"Outside," Craig answered simply with the middle finger on his left hand, sliding into the booth next to Red, pulling me with him. "You okay?"

"He thought I was a girl," I muttered. "Do I look like a girl?"

Shaking his head with a small smirk, Craig raised a brow. "No, though you're cute enough I suppose."

I flustered once again, shaking slightly.

"Stop meeting creepy people, Tweek. It's not good for you," he said quietly. I glanced up in slight shock at the half amused half worried tone. "Your boyfriend might not always be there to bail your ass."

I bit my lip. "Sorry, Craig."

He grabbed the back of my head, pulling me forward and pressing his lips against my temple. "Anytime."

Kivea: So like, I'm half way through the next chapter for my multichapter creek, and then I was thinking about how incredibly weird I'd made myself look while walking back with my boyfriend talking about my paranoia (which is kinda where the beginning of this fic stems from. Except gremlins and bugs scare me more than underpants gnomes), and I remembered when we'd been walking back from the restaurant one night and some creepy guy had tried to get my number while I was having a cigarette and Russel was paying for drinks in a convenient store and was like 'perfect' so yeah.

Ja ne ~

Kivea