Title: Bandaid Hands
Author: Daisy
Fandom: South Park
Setting: Tweek Bros. Coffee, Freshman Year, One year out of high school
Pairing: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Gregory Of Yardale/Tweek Tweak, Craig Tucker/Gregory Of Yardale/Tweek Tweak
Characters: Craig Tucker, Gregory of Yardale, Tweek Tweak
Genre: Romance/Humor
Rating: T
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 1211
Type of Work: One-Shot
Status: Complete
Warnings: Yaoi, Slash, Gay, Fluff, Slight gore, Nudity, Mental Illness, Unbeta'd
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: It didn't matter what they tried, Tweek was always unbearably itchy.
AN: So, I had this idea the other day, but I was determined not to start anything new until I finished They May Not Know Where I'm Coming From. With it finally finished and everything, I thought I'd do another for the OT3 before I work on things I need to type. I didn't sleep last night, and today is therapy day, so after this I will probably go home and try to get some rest. Maybe. xD We'll see.
Bandaid Hands ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first time he saw them, Craig was furious.
"What do you mean, you weren't with someone else? The evidence is all over you!" He'd erupted, his high school (Freshman) brain ready to cause and/or be part of drama. Arms waving above him, hands flying his usual message of 'fuck off', he almost looked like he was ready to start a real serious fight. It wasn't until Tweek, calmly and with an almost indifferent roll of his eyes, took the other's hands in his. Over the summer break, the blond had sprung up a good eight inches, putting an already horrible height difference into a worse position.
"Look." His voice didn't shake, for once, and he laced Craig's hands with his own. Dragging fingers over the scratches on his stomach, thighs, and back, he proved his own long limbs could stretch further than most. Every spot that was scraped up, ignoring the dark, twisted scar from just under his left rib down to his right knee, was something he could have done himself, while he was scratching. Some shrink had said he scratched so much because of unchecked mental illness, others said it was OCD, and kids whispered in the halls that it was his parents' 'special brew.'
"O-oh."
Tweek was tempted to reiterate the 'do not 'oh' me' argument, but his fingers twitched instead. Back flaring up in an insane kind of way, his jagged nails raked over the thin flesh there, angry red lines following them. Lurching forward and resting his torso and face against the countertop in his boyfriend's kitchen, he scraped mercilessly at his flesh until Craig's hands found his wrists and pulled them back at an almost painful angle.
"Tweek. Seriously, dude, calm down." He told him in that same way he always did. When he was certain that the blond wasn't going to start up again, he let go of his arms, immediately tugging him back against his chest. "I'm not putting you down until you can promise me you won't cut yourself up anymore."
"Man, that's way too much to expect! It itches, man!" Tweek whimpered in response, one hand slipping up to his hair and tugging hard enough that he nearly lost another chunk of hair. One arm around his torso and the other gently untangling his own hand from his hair, Craig sighed.
"Then we have to make it where you can't hurt yourself."
That had lead to so many different trials and errors that both of them were starting to get a little creative.
By the time they were out of high school, Tweek was still scratching himself up, even if it was less whenever Craig could spray him down, head to toe, with a spray that seemed to keep him relatively itch-free. Even still, there were enough breaks, especially during the first few nights that started their slow involvement of Gregory, that he still managed to score himself up like a cat scratch tower made of chalkboard.
"Have you tried bandaids?" The Brit asked casually, forcing his eyes to stay glued to the bank statements he was reviewing instead of looking over as Tweek nearly writhed on the floor, clawing himself up again.
"B-Bandaids?! What good are they gonna do, man?"
"Hush, love." Setting down the stack of papers in his hand, Gregory rose from his seat at the desk in the backroom of Tweek Bros. Coffee, rolling up his sleeves. Producing a small handful of bandaids from his pocket, something he didn't give Tweek enough time to question, he hunkered down over him, sitting on his thin stomach. Of course, most of his weight rest on his own legs, as he was sure Tweek wouldn't be able to handle it.
Looking over the thin blond's fingernails almost had Gregory cringing. Whatever was he supposed to do with these jagged stumps? It was in that moment that he decided he would make sure to file them and clip them regularly to keep Tweek from gnawing them off. Sighing softly, he shook his head.
"We're taking care of these fingers, now. No more of this chewing." It almost sounded like he were scolding his partner, the tone perhaps one saved for children.
"I ch-chew to keep them short. Don't cu-cut as bad, if I chew it to the quick." Tweek responded indignantly, glancing away as Gregory took his hand and kissed each fingertip.
"No, but you could bleed from that, too. The goal here, love, is for you to bleed the least amount, you see. I'd hate to see you exsanguinated by your own nervous ticks. What if I hadn't been here, hm? Does Craig know what you get up to when he's out of town? Hm?" The authoritative tone half-shamed Tweek into silent, even if he pouted just as hard as possible.
"He probably does." He finally answered, as he watched the first bandaid be unwrapped and placed over his finger, a second wrapped around it the girth of it to help keep the first in place.
"There, try. With that finger only." Came the excited instructions, golden curls falling into Gregory's face as he leaned forward to watch. Index finger rubbing uselessly against a bared hip, Tweek's brows knit together and his eyes slid closed.
"It doesn't help at all!" Whining and using his yet-to-be-bandaged fingers to drag over the itch, he huffed, clearly displeased, when his hand was grabbed again.
"It keeps you from slashing yourself up, which is a win in my book." Gregory's smug smile as he was allowed to repeat the bandage process on the rest of the other's fingers made Tweek want to smack him. Refraining, somehow, he instead focused on figuring some other way to quell the itching.
Another minute and Gregory was asking him to strip, the can of anti-itch spray in hand.
"I won't be asking you again, love. Off with your clothes or they'll be sprayed down instead of your skin and that's a waist of medicine." As true as the words were, Tweek was a little shy about shakily unbuttoning his shirt, dropping it with a shiver. Pants, socks and shoes came next, leaving him exposed; he wasn't surprised, if he were honest, that his underpants were missing. It was still freaky, but he knew that people either saw and believed or just ignored it, and it did him no good to dwell.
With Tweek nude before him, Gregory offered a smirk bordering on lecherous, if only to watch the other blond squirm.
"Arms out." The mist fell over Tweek's body like a fowl-smelling balm, his skin cooling beneath its gentle touch. "There, now, isn't that better?" As soon as it was applied in every feasible spot, Gregory set the can down and moved to sit back at the desk, lifting up his work once more.
"Y-yes." Came the begrudging words as Tweek picked his clothes back up, putting them on in his usual unattentive fashion. Buttoning his shirt was nearly impossible with his new thimble-fingers, and it left him struggling for twice, maybe thrice, as long with his shirt than usual. Now, he just had to find a good way to get back at the other; it wouldn't be too hard.
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