Title: Unattainable Cliché
Pairing: one-sided Craig/Kenny
Rating: T
Summary: He never meant to want what he couldn't have. One-shot. Craig-centric. Very angsty.
Warning: Quite a bit of coarse language and mild angst.
Other notes: My first South Park story. If it sucks, that's the reason why. I know Craig is probably OOC, and I'm sorry for that. But please enjoy anyway!
It was a stupid fucking cliché, that's all it was.
He was the pessimistic, cynical one who didn't give a shit about love. Kenny was the smartass blond playboy who thought love was something you made, preferably in a bed. That was the plot of most stupid teen movies, right? They themselves were a fucking cliché. Who really thought that high school was like that? Of course, Craig couldn't say anything, considering how unrealistic South Park High was. However, this was South Park, where it was typical to deviate from the norm. But still, it wasn't some stupid, predictable movie. If it was, Craig and Kenny would've fallen in love while denying their feelings, and after 90 minutes, they'd be together and happily ever after.
Yeah, right.
The number of reasons why Kenny and Craig could never be together was immense. Well, maybe not that big, but Craig could definitely think of some good ones. First off, he didn't have a goddamn idea how to be in a relationship with anyone, male or female, and as for Kenny? He was too busy staring down at various tits (namely—and fuck that stupid whore, Craig silently muttered—Bebe Stevens's) to notice that his friend had a straight-up boner for him. As if Kenny would notice, anyway. He wasn't a fag, Craig thought. Kenny would sooner become a monk than a cocksucker. And especially not with me.
"Bullshit!" he muttered, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Fuck you, Kenny. Fuck it all." He thrust that famed middle finger up to the sky, secretly wishing that somehow, Kenny would see it and feel bad. Not that Craig wanted to see the blond cry—he just wanted Kenny to realize what he was missing. He had Craig right there, all the time, and he chose to hang around girls who only wanted a piece of his dick. It was all just stupid.
Craig Tucker wasn't supposed to be like this, mooning over some guy who didn't like him back. Sure it would be nice if Kenny showed some interest, but it wasn't just that. The point is that Craig wanted Kenny, just as he wanted a Wii system in sixth grade, but couldn't have him. He was an unattainable cliché, something so ridiculous yet totally out of Craig's reach. Kenny would always be chasing skirts, making lewd jokes, and never settling down with someone. If it did turn out that Kenny was a fag or just bi, what's to say Craig wouldn't be another quick fuck? It wasn't as if Kenny and Craig had the same deep bond that 'super best friends' Stan and Kyle had. The two of them had barely spoken since the whole pandemic thing in fourth grade, so their friendship (if you could even call it that) was completely strained.
Craig wondered if Kenny had any idea what he was doing. Did he know that every night, Craig made a list of people he'd tell to "fuck off", and excluded Kenny from that list? Did he know that Craig would have erotic dreams at night, twitching as badly as Tweek while he pumped his cock, wishing it was Kenny's hands doing the work? Craig wasn't a sensitive little pussy, but after months of lusting after the blond, he was beginning to wonder what was up with him. Yeah, he was still Craig, and yet…not. All Craig knew was that love was just a dumb fuck. Who needed it?
An orange blur appeared in the distance, the image becoming more and more focused as it approached Craig. His breath hitched inside his throat as he saw the orange parka, its owner's blond mop of hair glinting in the autumn sun. Holy shit.
"Kenny," Craig droned, looking like he didn't give a shit.
Kenny nodded. "Hey, Craig. What's up?"
"Uh, nothing." The hell? So now Kenny decides to speak to him? Craig chuckled darkly, earning a raised eyebrow from his friend.
"So are you still coming to Clyde's party tonight?" Kenny asked, brushing a lock of hair from his face. Craig clenched his jaw tightly to keep from blushing. He wasn't gay, but he also wasn't gonna walk around acting like a fag.
"No shit. He's my best friend." That was Craig-speak for yes. Even around Kenny, he was still his cynical, sarcastic self, and that wasn't going to change.
"M'kay. So I'll see you around then." Kenny licked his lips and moved past Craig, briefly brushing Craig's shoulder with his hand. The bulge in his jeans only got tighter as his cheeks grew warmer and warmer. Damn it, Kenny was bullshitting with him again, and he wasn't even aware of it.
He stroked the bulge, his mind flashing back to Kenny's hand brush. Craig wasn't a believer in signs, but maybe…
Maybe Kenny wasn't as unware as he thought he was. Perhaps the unattainable cliché wasn't so unattainable.
Craig rolled his eyes at the hopeful, semi-philosophical bullshit that was forming in his brain, but surprisingly, to him at least, wasn't completely annoyed at his sudden moment of optimism.
"You're such a fag for him, Tucker," he muttered to himself, lighting up again. Yes, he admitted it: he was gay for Kenny McCormick. Gay for the one boy who'd be a bitch to hold down and stop him from getting into another girl's pants. Not that that would stop Craig from trying.
He smirked, blowing out a wasp of smoke. This was going to be way more fun than some dumbass movie.