Clyde heaved a heavy sigh and looked over at the twitching blonde, who stared down at his hands in disgust and horror, his dirt covered fingers shaking inches above his faded jeans.

"I...I can just see the bacteria. Tiny little microcosm birthday party on my fingertips, dancing around and waiting for me to slip up and bite my nails. In they go and before I know it there's a whole colony in my stomach trying their hardest to implant into my cells and give me some sort of horrible dysentery." Tweek whimpered, looking like he was about to cry. "Jesus, I can't take this. I don't wanna get sick from dirt."

Frowning, Clyde grabbed the hose, pressing the lever ever so gently so only a trickle of water spurted forth onto the grass, glittering brightly in the clear sunlight. He took the skinny fingers into his left hand, massaging them gently under the cool flow. "It's okay. We're doing this because you're too afraid to eat the vegetables from the supermarket. The dirt is safer than chemicals." Sighing again, but this time with quiet chuckle to accompany it, he held the still but clean hands in his own. "There. No more dirt and all the little things are back in the grass where they belong."

Tweek gazed up at him, mossy green eyes full of apologies. "I'm...I'm sorry Clyde...I..." He gave a spasm and Clyde pulled his hands over and dried them on his (mostly) clean tee-shirt.

"Don't apologize. You can still wear the gloves if you want."

Looking uncomfortable and embarrassed, Tweek melted into a shameful, squirming puddle before him. "But..." he said softly, voice hardly a squeak. "They close in on my hands and it feels like they're choking. I want to help, Clyde, I really do. I just...I want..."

Smiling, warm brown eyes full of patience, empathy, and though he would never admit it, much amusement, he leaned over and gave the writhing blonde a quick kiss. "Here." He handed him a gardening spade. "Just dig me a couple of little holes over there. As slow as you want so you don't get any dirt on you."

Giving a violent shudder, Tweek looked down at the little shovel. "How...how big? How big should I make them? I don't want to make them too big...but if they're too small—"

Clyde sighed again, rolling his eyes and leaning over to shut him up with another kiss. He let his lips linger long enough to quell the worried spasms, before pulling away.

"Just make them as deep as the blade, and as wide as you want them. I don't think the plants are going to mind. They're just plants."

"But..."

Clyde just gave him a gentle smile, pushing him gently toward the job at hand.

"They're plants, Tweek. They can cope if it's not perfect."

Tweek swallowed heavily and chuckled to himself, sliding the spade into the dirt with a slow movement. He cringed at the sound it made against the metal spade, but closed his eyes against it, trying his hardest not to worry about the little plants he was responsible for.

"I'm glad I'm not one of your plants. I might die from neglect."

Clyde raised an eyebrow and smirked, leaning into him. "I seem to be doing a pretty good job at making you comfortable."

Snorting with uncharacteristic sarcasm and amusement, Tweek withheld a proper answer, continuing to dig, keeping the spade at almost arm's length.

Yeah. Comfortable.