Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.
A/N:
ALL RIGHTY THEN.
Zoshi has entered the world of CrackPairings. :D Aren't we all excited?
This is my official CrackTP. Neapolitan. It makes me happy.
I'm trying to make this story Non-Angsty. We shall see how that goes… XD
REVIEW PEOPLE. I know it's difficult, but let me know what you think, please? PLEASE.
Be like Nike: JUST DO IT.
Title: A Neapolitan Love Story
Author: Zoshi the Confused
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13
Category: South Park
Genre: General
May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing
A Neapolitan Love Story
The radio at the back of the room played a mix of rock and punk songs. That was only one of the many things in the place that was annoying him. The shade of pale blue the walls were painted annoyed him too, along with the comfortable chair he was sitting in and the sturdy looking table standing not far away.
"Why the hell do I have to keep coming back here?" Craig growled, slouching back in his chair and glaring at the lady sitting across from him.
"Because we still have a lot of work to do," Ms. Kelling said, adjusting her wire-rimmed glasses and grinning at him. Craig crossed his arms, eyeing her warily.
"I've been here five times already, isn't that enough for whatever shit you want to do?" He said irritably. The way she'd put her hair up that day annoyed him too.
"My, aren't we testy today," The woman responded, still grinning, and wrote something down on a little notebook in her lap. Craig dropped his arms and leaned forward.
"What're you writing?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. She was probably writing some shit about how he wasn't cooperating, or how he was a lost case or something. Stupid therapists with their stupid know-it-all looks.
"Ideas." Ms. Kelling said, looking up from her notebook with a sly grin. "For a story."
"Hmph," Craig sat back in his chair, "And I thought you were here to work."
The woman laughed, pulling her glasses off with one hand and placing them on the table next to her.
"Now Craig, tell me, how was your week?" Ms. Kelling folded her hands in her lap, over the notebook, and gazed at him in that quiet, super-relaxed manner that seemed so abundant with therapists.
"It was fine," Craig said, looking at her evenly.
"That's good," Ms. Kelling smiled, "Did you do any interesting? Maybe a new project in school?"
Craig shifted on his seat slightly, sighing. Goddamn, but these 'sessions' were boring.
"There was a group project in my science class," He said, shrugging. "Otherwise it was normal."
"A group project, hm? Who did you work with?" Ms. Kelling asked.
"No one, the groups didn't go together even. So I talked the teacher into letting me work alone…" Craig said. Ms. Kelling frowned.
"You do know you're going to have to work with other people eventually, right?" She said, but Craig stayed silent. What did she know, anyways? "You'll figure that out eventually…"
Ms. Kelling stood up, placed the notebook on the table and headed back to a series of storage cabinets in the back of the room. Craig watched curiously as she brought back a pad of paper and a pack of colored pencils. She placed them on the table, then slid the table over in front of him. He stared down at the objects, then looked up at her.
"What is this?" He asked, but with the tone he tacked onto it, it came out sounding more like "You've got to be kidding me."
"We're going to talk, and you're going to use those pencils and that paper." Ms. Kelling smiled at him brightly. This time he did say.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Craig said, then snorted. "I can't draw for shit."
"I seriously doubt that Craig," Ms. Kelling said, settling back into her chair. "But you honestly don't have to really draw anything. Doodle, write, make squiggly lines or circles. What I want you to do is to put whatever you're feeling onto the paper."
Craig snorted, but decided to humor the lady. Whatever, as long as it made the time he was wasting go by faster, he didn't care what they did. He spilled out the colored pencils onto the table, rolling them around before finally choosing the brown one. Brown was safe enough, he thought. A neutral color, wasn't it? Without looking back at Ms. Kelling he put the pencil's point to the paper and started drawing squiggles and random shapes.
"How are your friends doing?" Ms. Kelling asked.
"They're all right…" Craig shrugged, his pencil moving to make circles on the paper.
"And you said school's going good, hm?" She continued, voice light.
"Yeah, its fine," Craig answered. His pencil zigged in a series of jagged lines.
"How're things at home?" Ms. Kelling asked, leaning comfortably on the table.
"Good," Craig moved the pencil again, this time in concentric circles. He sighed, leaning an elbow on the table and putting chin on his hand. There, there's a stupid little house. And a sun. There's a tree.
"I feel like a fucking five year old…" He muttered, starting on another little drawing.
"I think you'd be surprised to find that most five year olds have quite the expressive imaginations when it comes to drawing…" Ms. Kelling peered over at the newest drawing on the page. "What's that?"
"…it's Stripe," Craig muttered, suddenly feeling defensive. It was a horrible little drawing, an oval with big shiny eyes and tiny dashes for toes. Only the coloring looked anything like Stripe.
"Who's Stripe?" Ms. Kelling asked softly. Craig held the point of the pencil on the drawing for a long moment.
"Stripe was my guinea pig… He died a few years ago." Craig frowned, dropping the pencil, and looked at Ms. Kelling, but he didn't see the pity look he usually expected at moments like these. Instead, the woman was looking at him with a slightly curious expression on her face.
"What's your favorite type of ice cream?" Ms. Kelling asked suddenly, still with that curious expression.
"…Neapolitan… why?" Craig asked, raising an eyebrow. Ms. Kelling grinned.
"Can't decide on one flavor, hm?" She grinned, "Very well, I was thinking that maybe next time we can go somewhere else instead of this room."
"Sure," Craig sat back in his chair, arms folding again.
"Now, Craig, our time here is coming to an end," Ms. Kelling said, folding her arms on the table. "And I have something I want you do to for me."
"What?" Craig didn't hide the irritation in his voice.
"Take a clean sheet of paper… go ahead," Ms. Kelling nodded as he did so, "And write down the following: Favorite Color, Favorite Music, and Favorite Food."
Craig did as he was told, albeit it slowly, and then looked up at the woman.
"Now, this is the hard part… I want you to go to a person, some person who you don't talk to normally, and find out the answers to those three things," Ms. Kelling said, her smile only growing at Craig's look of disgust.
"I'm not doing that," Craig said, twirling the pencil angrily in his fingers.
"Well, of course, that is entirely up to you," Ms. Kelling said, sighing softly, "Just like it is entirely up to me whether we spend our session next week spending some time outside, or down at the nursing home down the street so you can get some social interaction."
She smiled sweetly. Craig counted all the way to six before finding himself flipping her off.
"Well, you lasted quite long that time," Ms. Kelling said, raising an eyebrow. Craig snorted, standing up and stuffing the paper in his pocket.
"I'm going home." He said with finality. Ms. Kelling smiled at him and waved.
"All right Craig, I'll see you next week," She called after him as he walked out the door.
"Dude, what the fuck is up with your hair?"
Craig looked up from where he was leaning against the school staircase to see Clyde looking down at him over the stair rail above.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Craig frowned up at him, and waited impatiently as Clyde stomped his way down the stairs.
"I'm talking about this," Clyde grabbed at some hair that was sticking out from under Craig's hat and attempted to twist it around so Craig could see it. "It's black."
"So?" Craig tilted his head back, pulling his hair out of Clyde's grasp, and fixed his hat.
"So, it was brown yesterday," Clyde said, looking at him strangely.
"…I dyed it…" Craig said impassively. God, but he was getting tired of hearing that question from people. Clyde stared at him for a moment, then frowned.
"No way dude," Clyde pushed Craig in the shoulder. The now-black-haired-boy flipped him off before heading down the hallway towards his locker. Clyde followed along, swinging his book bag onto his shoulder. Dodging between other students rushing through the halls, they finally managed to reach their destination.
"Aw, come on Tweeks, it'll be fun."
"Gah! I don't know, Kenny, I mean, oh God, there's gonna be so many people there -ack- and the, the germs all over the place, and everyone's always so loose…"
Craig pushed Kenny away from his locker, earning a highly annoyed look shot in his direction, and spun the lock through the combination.
"Party at the usual spot, Craiggy-boy," Kenny grinned, leaning his arm up on the top of Craig's locker door. "You coming?"
"Hngh," Craig grunted as he pulled his books out, "Who else is going?"
"I am!" Clyde piped up from beside him.
"Tweeks is coming too, right?" Kenny winked and nudged the other blonde in the side, causing the boy to jump a few inches before giving him a twitchy-eyed, shocked look. Craig frowned at that, closing the locker door so suddenly that Kenny almost fell over. "What the fuck?"
"I'll come," Craig said, "Now get out of the way."
Kenny stuck his tongue out at him.
"'Please' would be nice," The blonde said, but Craig just flipped him off before shoving him aside. Tweek followed close behind, warily looking back at Kenny as they left. Clyde lagged behind, and Craig could hear him and Kenny talking about what girls to bring along.
"You thinking about going, Tweek?" Craig asked, looking over at the blonde.
"Gah!" Tweek twitched, "You think I should go, Craig? With, with all the people -ack- and all the touching…"
"Could be fun," Craig shrugged, looking over at him, "Besides, you need to relax a little…"
"Th-that's what -ack- Kenny always says," Tweek shuddered.
"You're not alone in that, Tweek," Craig said, "He says that to everyone."
"Guys, wait up!"
Both Craig and Tweek stop, although the blonde's stop was more of a jerk-hop, to see Clyde and Token heading their way. Once the others caught up the group of four headed on.
"Figured out who else is gonna go?" Craig asked Clyde.
"Yeah, we told most of the regulars to come, and Stan and those guys are coming," Clyde said grinning happily. "But we got a lot of girls to come, man, you wouldn't believe how many… Usually its such a fucking chore to get them to go…"
"So Kyle's coming with them?" Craig asked, eyeing Clyde out of the corner of his eye.
"Yeah, dude, I just hope his mom doesn't try checking up on him," Clyde grimaced.
"That's just what'd the party need, the She-Bitch crashing the party," Token snorted, "I don't know why he comes, he always has to leave before the party gets started, and he doesn't drink anything."
"Its sad, the guy just can't have any fun," Clyde shook his head in mock sympathy.
"Whatever," Craig rolled his eyes and snapped, "Hurry up, or I'll leave you all behind."
"Damn, what's wrong with you, boy?" Token asked.
"He's just pissy because there's a Red Racer marathon on and he's missing it," Clyde snickered.
"Shut the fuck up," Craig flipped him off, giving him a dirty look.
"Whatever dude, you know its true," Clyde laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"Where're we meeting up?" Craig shrugged the hand off, eyeing the other three.
"Your place," Token said, "It's closest."
"Fine," Craig said, stepping away from the others, "Later guys."
"Later."
Craig wasn't sure exactly what number beer he had, the only thing he knew was that it definitely wouldn't be his last. There were people everywhere, and fuck, Tweek was right; they all wanted to touch everyone else. Craig had already shoved his way past 5 gropers in a row, but the way the party was going, it didn't seem he'd be able to dodge them all for long. Threatening another would-be groper with his half-empty beer bottle (shit that emo fad was getting bad, he couldn't even tell guys from girls anymore) he shoved on through the crowd, searching for some member of his usual gang. Clyde had disappeared a while ago, following the arrival of some leggy brunette, and Craig hadn't seen him since. He'd last seen Token around the stereo, complaining about the choice in music and trying to convince the assigned "DJ"(Jimmy) to switch cds. And Tweek… After walking past a pair of entangled arms and legs he finally found him, backed up against a wall and surrounded by girls from all sides. The poor boy was getting groped from either side, and was jumping a foot in the air each time someone touched him. Craig stared thoughtfully at the blonde for a moment, then shrugged and moved on. Fuck, he'd babysat at the last party, it was Clyde's turn this time, and if Clyde couldn't remember that then he'd have to deal with an overly-hyped up Tweek for the rest of the night, once the blonde found Clyde and convinced him to let him stay the night.
PFfft, underwear gnomes, Craig thought derisively, taking a swig of his beer. That boy was seriously messed up.
"But duuude, the party'sh jusht gettin' started…"
Craig stopped just short of running into a very wobbly looking Stan. The black haired boy, decked out in both (what the hell?) emo AND gothic fasion, had his arms wrapped around the arm of his best friend, and seemed to be doing his best to pull the other boy back from heading towards the door. Kyle, who was probably the only sober person at the damn party, patiently unclamped Stan's fingers from his arm.
"Stan, I have to go, you know my mom," Kyle sighed, looking around the party with a look of utter longing, "Do you really want her showing up at the door?"
"We… we could jusht tell her you're at my house!" Stan said brightly, grabbing onto the much taller redhead's shoulders to keep steady.
"Stan, this IS your house," Kyle rolled his eyes, but Stan started on another round of 'convincing' to keep him from leaving.
Craig leaned back against a table that was located conveniently nearby and smirked, watching the scene go on. It was always the same: ten thirty, Kyle, in order to keep his mother from descending upon the party like a giant, red eyed demon from hell, would start to leave the party. Stan (who by this point in time was doing a good job at following in his father's footsteps) was almost wasted but still able to form coherent sentences, and would try to get Kyle to stay at the party instead of leaving. They would continue arguing about it until Kenny, of the iron liver, would show up, not sober but not falling over himself either, and cheerfully pull Stan away, leaving Kyle to exit without any further complications.
And yes, here came Kenny, sidling up to the black-haired emogoth boy and pulling him off of the redhead.
"C'mon Stan, you gotta come see this," Kenny said, spinning Stan around to face him.
"But… but Kyle's leaving…" Stan gave him an annoyed look and attempted to turn back around.
"Dude, you have to see this, you won't Believe what Wendy's doing," Kenny looked at him with a leer.
"Wendy?" Stan paused, puzzled.
"And Bebe too, man," Kenny nodded, "And I think they'll get Red to join in soon…"
Stan looked indecisive for a moment, thinking hard, then turned back to Kyle.
"I gotta go shee this…" Stan told him, then lifted a finger to point at him. "You wait here, I'll… I"ll be Right back…"
"All right Stan," Kyle nodded seriously.
"Right back, gotta go check this out…" Stan told him some more, pointing off somewhere in the room.
"You do that…" Kyle grinned, watching Stan stumble away through the crowd. He turned a relieved smile to Kenny, who was laughing to himself. "Thanks man."
"No problem," Kenny slapped his shoulder before heading off into the crowd himself.
With a sigh, Kyle cast one more longing look around the party, then turned and headed out the door. Craig watched him leave with a curious look on his face. Kyle was always wearing that same look, as if he wished that he could be part of everything that was going on, but wasn't. Craig frowned, downing the last of his beer, and headed towards the door himself. Outside, he saw that Kyle was already halfway down the block, and he hurried to stumble after him.
"Kyle, wait up!" He called, and the redhead stopped, turning around with a puzzled look.
"Craig?" Kyle said, obviously surprised. They didn't exactly talk every day, more like only whenever they were forced to. "What do you want?"
Craig stopped not far from him, looking at him for a long moment.
"What's… what's your favorite color?" He asked finally. Kyle raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, and Craig frowned. "What the fuck is it?"
"…green…?" It came out more like a question.
"Music?" Craig continued.
"…90's Punk," Kyle was still looking at him as if he was doing something horribly strange.
"…favorite…" Craig wracked his brain, trying to remember, "Favorite food?"
"Anything with a high sugar content," Kyle said, then added, "Why, may I ask?"
"Why…?" Craig took a step back, feeling defensive suddenly, "Project…. Uh, extra credit… some stupid shit…"
"Right." Kyle didn't look convinced, and he didn't look amused either.
"Whatever." Craig took another step back, "Uh, thanks. Yeah…. Later."
He turned around, weaving his way along the sidewalk back to the party. Green. 90's Punk. Sugar. Green 90's Punk Sugar. Fuck. He had to write that down. Ha. Fucking therapist, there. Take that, he did it. Stupid shit of a thing.
Now, he just needed to find some paper, and a pencil, and…
He walked back in through the still open door only to be grabbed around the waist and pulled deeper inside.
"Craig! You're missing the best parts man," Kenny laughed, pulling him along. Craig grimaced; that arm around his waist was sending shivers if something up his spine, and he didn't like it.
"What the fuck, ass," Craig tried to pull away, but Kenny wouldn't let go. "What the hell am I missing?"
"The party, you douche," Kenny rolled his eyes dramatically, accompanying it with a loud sigh. Craig pushed him away and headed towards the nearest cooler, but he could hear the blonde following him.
"Why the hell won't you go bother one of your fucking friends?" Craig glared at Kenny before opening the cooler. Ice, ice, dented can, some more ice. He shoved his hands between the frozen chunks of water and dug around for a while. He pulled them out almost completely numb, but holding two bottles of booze.
"They're either gone or taken, man," Kenny grabbed a bottle from him and opened it, "I don't got anyone to hang around."
A moment and Craig was dragged up to his feet by the blonde. Groaning, and trying to ignore the fact that Kenny now had his arm draped around his neck, he relented and decided to just go with the flow.
Fuck, this was going to be a long night.
PSST: Neapolitan C/K/K
