Not that he had any intention to drop everything and abandon university in disgust or anything, but Kyle absolutely hated his course.

Two years, he'd been trying for a psychology degree. It was a thing that interested him. But, as he'd been warned by everyone he knew who'd taken any kind of degree that by the third year of the course they all hated it. The first year, Kyle had been exceptionally into everything that was thrown his way. In the second year, he had started to grow weary of some of the content. And now, he hated it. It was all theory and no practice.

Kyle's saving grace had always been that he had been able to do the course rather well. His worst mark on anything he'd done, between full modules and individual assignments had been 62%, but now that he'd hit the fatal third year he was dipping down.

Half marks, at this level, was nothing to be ashamed of. But then, it was Kyle. He was rather used to being the best at pretty much everything.

Which meant, in the face of an assignment that he flat out could not do, he was struggling. Of course he had to hand something in but this time, he had nothing. He was drawing blanks. He didn't even know when to start.

That was completely unknown to him. At the very least he'd always been able to just prattle off everything he knew about whatever subject he had to write about, be that personality, motivation, brain functionality or whatever it was, and that was normally enough. It never seemed directly pertinent to his final endgame of criminal psychology, but he'd always done at least something.

But now, tasked with producing five thousand words on how the mind develops during childhood, he was blanking out. He had an introductory paragraph and that was it.

"You haven't moved in twenty five minutes," observed his roommate slash sort of boyfriend ish. Kyle didn't respond. "I'm guessing you're stuck?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Kyle asked in the sort of dull tone that legends were made of.

"Well, Maud," Craig replied, "you-"

"Rhetorical," Kyle interrupted. "That was rhetorical." He turned back to his paper and rubbed the bridge of his nose where his reading glasses were digging into his flesh. And he wasn't even going to ask how that was possible when he was looking down. He might not even have minded so much if he could type it out, but the lecturer in question demanded hand written work for no apparent reason. Graphology was almost complete bullshit, there was no reason at all for handwriting five thousand words. On top of everything, the word count had to be done manually.

Also, 'Maud'? "And while I don't mind you throwing… I guess it's a reference, anyway, that's fine. But not now, okay? Just, I really need to concentrate here."

Craig rolled over on his bed, finally diverting attention away from Stripe IV. "Sure." He got up and walked over to Kyle's desk. Kyle was still staring intently at the one paragraph he had down, so didn't notice Craig's approach until the pen was taken from his hand.

"What the fuck-" he started, but Craig was physically lifting him out of the chair and up to full height.

"You need a break."

"Just because-"

"I'm well aware," Craig started, straightening Kyle's shirt out, "that the exercise sheets I get given for my course can be done in less than an hour and your essays need several days and rounds of proofreading. But you were assigned it today."

"So? The sooner the better."

Craig pulled his best blank stare out of his collection and looked up at Kyle with it. "You need a break. You keep trying to do things immediately and that leaves you bogged down."

"I-"

"When was the last time you took a night off?"

Kyle opened his mouth. Then, on realising that he couldn't remember when the last time he took a night off was, he promptly dodged the question. "I can't afford nights off, Craig. I've got too much shit to do."

"You've not got a choice in the matter. We're going out."

That left Kyle speechless. The shortness of Craig's words was nothing particularly new, of course, but normally when it came to the two of them going out to spend time with each other he was the one who had to suggest it. Craig was normally up for it, as soon as he could be dragged away from his cartoons and his animals, but he never suggested it.

"You."

"Me?"

"Asking me on a date. You asking me."

"Who said it was a date?" Craig asked. "It's a method of getting you away from spending every waking hour doing your work. Recreation is very important for the mind."

Kyle folded his arms. "Psychology is my department, Craig, you keep your head in the stars."

"Then you know I'm right. Come on."

There was just no winning. When Craig Tucker wanted something, he got it. He was the living embodiment of persistence. "Fine. You've got an hour."

"That's all you need." Then he just left, pausing only to pick his hat up from his own desk. Kyle pulled his coat on and followed.

Craig was very much in command of the night. He kept pace ahead of Kyle, didn't really respond to any questions about where he planned on going. When he turned into a cinema four blocks away from their accommodation, though, Kyle stopped dead.

"No."

"Yes."

"We're not going in there. That's way too long, I can't watch a movie. Besides, you'll pick something I hate."

Craig turned. "An hour, ninety minutes, that's not a huge difference. Just a short one, okay?"

Kyle had to unclench his teeth before responding. "You promise?" Craig responded by doing that thing he did when making promises of crossing his heart then cupping his hand and smacking himself in the eye. Kyle had figured it meant he was promising things long ago, but he'd never bothered finding out exactly what it meant. "Fine. Let's get it over with, the sooner we get in the sooner we can get home."

They stepped in and approached the box office. There was a minor queue but it wasn't anything too bad. Kyle tapped Craig's shoulder. "You mind if you queue alone? I need the bathroom."

"Sure."

"You want me to pay?"

"My treat," Craig responded in a way that should probably have sounded a little bit nicer than it turned out sounding, but then that was Craig Tucker in a nutshell.

Kyle smirked. "So it is a date?"

"Nope."

With that Kyle left. Craig stood alone in the queue, waiting for the two people in front to fuck off so he could do what he rather wanted to.

When they walked off and with no sign of Kyle being done in the toilet - not surprising, being as the boy had a predilection for hygiene that meant he spent more time washing his hands than he did actually on the bowl - Craig approached.

"How can I help you?" asked the attendant in a way that only thinly masked her boredom.

"Two for The Hobbit, please," Craig requested.

"I'm not angry," Kyle repeated.

"Your fists are clenched, your face is the same colour as your hair, your eyes are squinting and you're trembling," Craig observed. "Yes you are."

"Three hours." Kyle had to exhale sharply before he could continue. "You promised it'd be a short one."

Craig shrugged. "I wanted to watch it."

"I don't have the fucking time, okay? Just, let's get food and go home."

"Sure." Craig turned left out of the door and started walking. Kyle didn't follow.

"There's a Burger King on the way home, dude, where the fuck are you going?" After a few seconds passed, it became obvious that Craig wasn't responding. Kyle started following. "Craig!" he shouted.

"You planning on eating a cheeseburger? I thought Jews couldn't do that."

"Some days I'm more Jewish than others," Kyle retorted.

"Hypocrite."

"Hey, that's kinda-"

"Just trust me."

Craig led Kyle a further two blocks away from their flat, then turned right. Kyle had a feeling he knew where Craig was taking him, and he had incredibly mixed feelings on the issue. On the one hand, it was a high end Italian (by student standards, at least) called Hugh's that he'd been not exactly quiet about wanting to try ever since it had opened to rave reviews, but his schedule had never allowed it. Which was a shame because Italian food was to Kyle as water was to a thresher shark.

And that Craig - Craig, a person with all the apparent emotional capability of a pint of seawater, was taking time out to take him there? That was amazing. Under more relaxed circumstances Kyle was pretty sure he'd have been bouncing and squeeing in a very embarrassing way.

On the other hand, though, he really needed to get home. The essay wasn't going to write itself, and it needed to be done.

But, the restaurant had been so well received.

But he needed to do work.

The internal debate went back and forth several times, such that by the time Kyle came back to his senses Craig had reached the door of the place. "Hurry up!" he shouted. Or, rather, said louder than usual. Kyle started running, completely set on telling Craig something along the lines of thanks but no thanks, making sure to gush over the gesture enough for it to not come off as rude. But by the time he got to Craig, he was already talking to the man at the door.

"Reservation for Tucker," he said, to a nod from the waiter. The two of them were led to a window table and sat down opposite each other. Kyle stared, wide eyed but intently at Craig.

"Reservation?" he asked, waiting for the explanation.

"Yup."

Kyle looked around Hugh's for a second. It wasn't precisely high end as such, but it certainly had aspirations. Wood panels, soft lightning, leather upholstery and one of those open kitchens that served as a way of seeing the entirety of the food preparation process gave a very classy feel to the place, but it was ultimately still angled towards the student crowd that lived in the area.

In that purpose, it had been immensely successful. For the first couple of months, word was that reservations had been impossible. Of course, since then it had died down to just popular, which meant that if the wind was blowing in the right direction and the moon and sun were moving in just the right way, it was possible to get in just by walking to the door. But it did appear to be really busy tonight.

How the hell had Craig gotten a reservation?

Also, when?

"When did you swing that?" he finally asked, considering it the more logical question to ask. Obviously the answer to how was that it wasn't actually as busy as all that.

Craig shrugged. "Few hours ago. Before we went into the movie."

Not pre planned. Of course not. "And you do realise that because of this I'm going to be wasting more-"

"Kyle," Craig interrupted, which didn't stop Kyle. It was Craig's putting a hand on his arm that shut him up. "Just relax, okay? There'll be time."

"There won't-"

"Forget about it," Craig offered. "Don't think about your homework for the whole rest of tonight. That way you can go back to it tomorrow, you can start over, you won't be freaking out, you'll be fine. It's how I get by difficult stuff."

Kyle had his mouth open. He was all ready to respond. But nothing was coming to mind.

"For me?" Craig tried. Kyle could tell exactly what he was trying to do.

"You can't do puppy eyes."

"Credit for trying."

"Alright, fine. I'll do my best."

Craig smiled briefly, then turned attention to the menu. "You better appreciate this, mind you, you know I'm not big on pasta. You need me to read the menu for you?"

The waiter soon returned with a jug of water, food was ordered - pizza for Craig and a chicken and pasta affair for Kyle - and the wait for dinner began. Kyle was struggling for ways of distracting himself from the looming thought of bullshitting his way through five thousand words of something he knew nothing about.

"How's Stripe?" he asked blankly.

"Since when have you taken an interest in my pets?" Craig asked.

"Since when have you done nice things for me?" Kyle responded. "It's a big fat day of misrule today."

Craig shrugged. "Well, Stripe's doing just fine. He was a bit sick a few weeks back but, he's okay now." Kyle nodded in acknowledgement. "Then Adrian and Bonnie are doing okay as well. I'm not sure but I think Bonnie might be pregnant." Those were his…mice? "Butters and Flutters are still hanging around, I'm pretty sure they're here to stay." Kyle knew about those. Craig had taken time out to show them to him - they were his butterflies. They'd just arrived one day about two weeks prior and refused to leave so Craig was now feeding them. He'd called one Butters, Kyle guessed because it was bright blue in a similar shade to the shirts Butters Stotch had always worn back in South Park. The other - pale yellow - was called Flutters. Craig apparently was useless at naming things anything reasonably clever or creative.

"Everyone else seems fairly ordinary, I guess. I'm thinking of getting bird, too."

"You sure you can handle another animal?"

Craig fixed Kyle with a stare. "I have the ability to communicate with animals on a different level. Of course I can fucking handle another one."

Kyle nodded. "Sure. You know best."

Silence was on the verge of falling again, when Craig spoke up again. "And how are you these days? Other than stressed out of your mind, that is."

"Okay." Kyle didn't really have anything further to say.

"Just okay?"

"I guess." Craig hummed in response. Kyle sort of felt bad that he didn't have much further to add to the conversation, really. Craig had all his animals and cartoons, Kyle had nothing.

That was something Kyle had never even considered, actually. He didn't particularly have hobbies. He just never had time.

Did he?

"Craig?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you have time for your stuff?"

Craig narrowed his eyes. "What stuff, now?"

"Everything. You spend hours tending that menagerie of yours and watching cartoons, and you're still surviving through your course. How do you do it?"

Craig leaned forward. "Thank you for asking. I was hoping you would." He took a deep breath. "It's a pretty simple matter of deciding when is good enough. I'm not saying slacking off is what you should do, but there has to come a point where you can say 'I've done this as well as I can, there's nothing that I can add that will yield any reasonable increase in marks' and put your pen down. I'm aware that that's a little more difficult with essay based assignments rather than, like, what I get. But there comes a point."

Kyle considered. "Any idea where that point might be?"

"Round about the word limit." Craig paused a second to take a sip of his water. "You normally hit like double or triple, don't you?"

"…yeah."

"Well, limit yourself. The thing with essays is you need to keep things as concise as you can. A usual physics dissertation can be hundreds of pages long, but… Feynman? I think Feynman, I can't remember, his dissertation was on the equations of quantum relativity. This was something new, right, not an elaboration of old stuff. He did it in, like, a reasonably sized booklet. Like, fifty odd pages."

"How the fuck did he manage that?" Kyle asked.

"It was all he needed. If you're told to do something in four hundred pages and you have it done in forty, why waste your time?"

"Excuse me?" said a third voice. "Pepperoni pizza?"

"Oh." Kyle looked up. "That's him."

The waiter put it down, then gave Kyle his own meal. "Enjoy."

Once he'd disappeared, Craig started slicing into the pizza. "Point being, once you've done enough to get your points across, there's no reason to just pad it out with an unreasonable amount of complete shit just to reach an arbitrary word count." Craig took his first mouthful of pizza, then his eyebrows shot up. "Okay, that's pretty good," he admitted.

Kyle dug into his chicken. Craig's assessment was correct - the food was pretty amazing. He could see why the place was so popular. The conversation died in favour of eating their food, which Kyle needed anyway. Craig had given him a few things to think about.

Craig paid for everything. They left Hugh's and started heading home.

"Craig?" Kyle said.

"Mm?"

"Thanks for tonight." Craig hummed. Just as emotional as ever. "I guess there's no possibility of me getting back to work tonight?"

"Nope. Partially I won't let you, mostly the time."

At that, Kyle pulled his phone out. It was ten past nine. "Holy fuck, it's late."

"When you're enjoying yourself," Craig said with a shrug. "Honestly, I'm probably going straight to bed when I get home. I got early morning lectures tomorrow."

"You and me both." They walked the remainder of the way home in silence. They got indoors, Craig locked the door, and started pulling clothes off.

Kyle sat on his bed for a few seconds. "Hey, can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

Craig stopped to look at Kyle for a few seconds, which Kyle had to suppress a laugh at since his arms were still over his head where he was discarding his shirt. "Sure. You're always welcome, you know."

Kyle nodded, and started stripping down to his T-shirt and boxers. Craig got into bed, and Kyle followed. He wrapped his arms around Craig and pulled himself nice and close, while Craig pulled the blanket up over their shoulders.

"Really, Craig, thank you so much," Kyle said into Craig's hair once the lights were off.

"Mhm."

"Do you want me to pay you back at all?"

"My treat, Kyle. Don't worry about it." Craig adjusted himself against Kyle in a way that he probably would not like to be referred to as snuggling. "You take me on enough dates."

Kyle smirked. "So it was a date?"

A full five seconds passed before Craig figured out a response. "No."

"Yes it was."

"Shut up."

Kyle couldn't hold the laugh back. He pulled Craig close to him and wrapped his legs around him. "Yes, it was."

Craig groaned into Kyle's neck. "Goodnight, Kyle," he said in complete monotone, that indicated that the conversation was over. Kyle chuckled again.

"Goodnight, Craig," he replied, readjusting himself and settling into the pillow. "I love you, you know."

"Mhm."