The early morning air was refreshing, bitingly enough to raise gooseflesh for those that dared the glistening Saturday morning. The sun was warm, tantalizing over bare arms, caressing stubbled jaw. And of course, the neighborhood was quiet, birds crooning sing song as they flit through the sky, neighborhood dogs howling their conversations back and forth, the pitter-patter of morning joggers putting a rhythm to his work...quiet except for the harsh French curses as Christophe banged his knuckles ratcheting in the cramped engine bay of his truck.

Barely nine in the morning, and he already had bits and pieces of the truck's internal mechanisms shattered across the drive way, grease marching up to his elbows, hair a sweaty mess jammed under a backwards baseball cap as he worked to remove the cylinder gaskets and replace them. He sat up in the engine bay, cramped under the hood as he used a socket wrench to pull out oil-coated bolts, the power drill long forgotten in the tight quarters of the engine.

Tweek had seemed distracted all day at school, walking aimlessly as if hidden deep in his mind, so Christophe had decided to take him out into the wilderness, following a mountain trail up to a cliff that overlooked the small mountain town. Or, that had been the plan, prior to his truck grinding into gear, almost redlining out and losing power as it overheated. A sheepish call to Token had towed the piece of garbage back to his house before taking the blonde back home, despite his avid attempts to get the blonde to stay the night.

"Oh well," he muttered to himself, brows furrowing as the bolt refused to loosen. And despite the fact he had the bike for transportation, one horror struck look on the blonde's face had nixed that idea in the bud.

"What are you doing so early?" a voice asked, startling him out of his thoughts enough to slam his head on the inner aspect of the truck hood. Growling, he glared daggers at his sleepy-eyed brother, standing in Cows pajama bottoms and a grey hoodie.

"What's it look like, Clyde?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Clyde stuck his tongue out. "You don't have to be such an asshole, jeez."

Rubbing the back of his head, Christophe sighed. "Hand me ze degreaser while you're standing zere. Speaking of which, why are you up so early? I never see your face before noon on a weekend."

His mussy-haired brother grabbed the bottle and handed it over, his clear blue eyes staring down at the ground as he shuffled from foot to foot. "Didn't sleep well."

Christophe raised a brow in question as he looked his younger brother over. Clyde had seemed off his game the night before, deep in thought as he muddled around the kitchen for all his favorite junk food, ignoring Bebe as she called asking to go to a movie. It had been odd the way his brother had seemed to mope about, even ignoring his precious Xbox. The Mole reached a greasy hand out, placing it on Clyde's forehead, but he didn't feel feverish.

"What's wrong wiz you?"

He laughed nervously as he swatted Christophe's hand away. "Nothing, dude, haha, what would be wrong with me?"

"You're a terrible liar," Christophe pointed out, concern in his face as he watched his brother.

"I just, God man, I don't want to hurt you, you know? You're so freaking happy, you aren't a crabby asshole as much anymore, you're fun to be around and I love you and I don't want to hurt you and-"

Christophe felt his breathing stop, his lungs burning, a chilling course of adrenaline sliding like slush through his veins as he stared at his fumbling brother. "Just tell me."

"I saw Tweek and Craig in the hallway afterschool kissing."

Christophe's mind whirled. That could very well be why Tweek had been so introverted last night. It irked him that Tweek wouldn't have told him, though. Was the blonde second guessing their relationship? Was Tweek considering going back to Craig? It made something deep in him ache, but he shrugged the news off, grey eyes stony as he recalculated the odds. Or had Craig been the one to make a move, to tangle Tweek's infallible heart?

Tearing himself out of his thoughts, he shrugged. "I trust him," was the reply that slid from his lips.

Before Clyde could think of an answer a familiar silver two-door car pulled up and out stepped the cheery face of Bebe, her hair piled high on her head, wearing paint covered jeans, beat up Converse and a loose over-the-shoulder sweater. Clyde raised his eyebrows as he looked her over.

"What're you doing here? Did I forget a date?"

"She's 'ere for me," Christophe said, a hint of humor sliding through his stony voice as Clyde looked between the two of them, the question written on his sleepy face. "She's going to help wiz ze truck."

"And while we get dirty, you can take my car and do the errands you promised your mom you'd do yesterday," she said with a glossed smile as she tossed her keys in Clyde's direction.

He caught them without a hitch and whined. "You're going to make me go out and get things for Mom by myself?"

"Ze quicker ze truck ez bsck togezer, ze quicker we can fight about who does errands," Christophe said with a slight smile, hitching a thumb in Bebe's direction. "And she's good wiz cars. We'll have z truck back togezer by ze time you get 'ome, and I'll pay for lunch."

"Fine," he glowered, jamming the keys into his hoodie pocket. "I've got some stuff to do in town anyway."

"Don't pout," Bebe said, placing her hands on his waist. "It's just too cute, I'll never let you leave," she said with a smile as she placed a delicate, sticky kiss on his lips. "Let's make it a race. We win, we pick lunch and the movie for tonight. You win, you get to pick."

He frowned. "Well that's not fair, Rissy already has half the truck pulled apart, and I'm not even dressed."

"We'll wait to do anymore 'til you leave."

A wicked grin turned his pout around as he nodded, fire in his eyes as he exclaimed, "Deal!" and ran off inside. Christophe shook his head as the door slammed and he heard Rex barking, turning his eyes toward the blonde goddess leaning against his truck.

"I don't know 'oe 'e keeps you," Christophe mused as she plucked the greasy socket wrench from his hands.

"Same reason you keep Tweek, I'm sure; we're compliments of each other and balance out well," she said as she swung the tool in her capable hands, glancing up at Christophe with a secret smile.

"I don't know 'ow long I'll be keeping 'im now," he said as he ran his fingers through his hair under the hat, staring coldly at the ground, ignoring the tight feeling of his chest saying the words. "Clyde said he saw 'im and Craig kissing."

"I know," she said with a shrug as her cool hazel eyes pinpointed him in his seat. "Tweek told me about it. You knew it'd be difficult with how heavy they were when you gave it your all, Rissy. But I wouldn't worry, and I damn sure wouldn't do what I know you're thinking of. You trust Tweek, don't you?"

"Explicitly," he replied without thinking.

"Then give him a chance to talk to you before you jump off the deep end."

Before either could say anything more, Clyde came barreling out of the house in a long sleeved Ninja Turtle shirt and jeans, hair a sloppy wet mess, his game face on as he ran to the girly sports car and yelled, "Time in! I'm gonna smoke you bitches!"

Saturday afternoon in South Park proper was always of the busy affairs. Kids ran down the street laughing joyously, women weaved in and out of shoppes running errands, having morning coffee, tittering with their friends. Craig ignored them all, tucked away in a back corner booth in a relatively new cafe that had opened on Main street, delighting in fresh made food every day and a small home-made bakery with breads and treats galore. Earbuds popped in under his filthy blue lapringer, hair falling in a wave across his eyes, he tapped on his open notes scattered across the table idly, barely registering the prompts of his homework as he stared at the blurring lines.

He felt both relieved and empty, like a gaping hole had appeared in his very soul at his admittance to Tweek that they needed to work on themselves, at his admittance that they needed their time apart. Tweek was his best friend, the first person he gravitated to in school, the first person he had genuine feelings for, feelings that ran deep. Tweek was the first person he had ever loved outside of his family, the first person he wound himself tight with, the first kiss that felt like electricity searing down his spine, the first touch that took his breath away. Tweek was the only person he had cried for, cried in front of; the first hand he held tight, interlocked.

The first person he willingly let go. Had to let go, for them both.

It wasn't until, seeing Tweek with tears in his eyes, tearing at his hair, pain written on his face, that he knew he couldn't do it to him anymore. Seeing Tweek so torn hurt like Hell, because he knew the blonde loved him still, despite the awful things he continued to do. It hurt because he could see how much he meant to the blonde, but couldn't do anything about it, didn't want to, because he knew Tweek would personally hate him in his love if he ripped him away from Christophe.

It sucked, the consequences they found themselves entangled in after one night of truth, and pain and love that was found. It sucked, because god, Craig loved that boy more than anything.

"Try to tell you 'no', but my body keeps on telling you yes/Try to tell you 'stop' but you're lipstick got me so out of breath/I'll be waking up in the morning probably hating myself/I'll be waking up feeling satisfied but guilty as Hell," rang through his ear buds, the silky voice of Kenny mimicking the lyrics in his head, lips curling up in a slight smile as he remembered the musically inclined blonde howling out the lyrics as he picked the tune on his guitar. He chuckled to himself remembering the bright shade of pink the blonde turned on the quick pass of lips in the hall, a kiss he had no answer for.

When it had happened, he barely had the time to register the quick flitting and warmth in his stomach at the contact, the barest brush of lips with his blonde rocker counterpart. But he had all night to dwell on the sensation, and the meaning behind it. The sweet, acrid taste of nicotine, the cold metal of his lipring, the rough wind-chapped lips under his that sent a small trill through him.

It baffled him; Kenny was the complete opposite of Tweek in every way but build and hair color. He was crude, reveling in making anything into a dick joke; he was deeply introverted, using his joyous, carefree demeanor as a ploy and a wall to hide his depths. He smoked, drank, found pleasure in the pains of an alternative lifestyle with piercings and tattoos. But he was deeply loyal to his friends, deeply proud of his younger sister, and would do anything to keep society from poisoning Karen if he could. He was born into an unfortunate financial situation, but he was trying to pull himself out of following the roots that tangled him up as a McCormick.

And, it turned out, Craig found himself attracted to Kenny.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as a baby-faced brunette plopped down in front of him, blue eyes stormy, brows furrowed, fire dancing.

"What can I do for you, Clyde?" he asked as he pulled his earphoes out.

"I saw you kissing Tweek. What the fuck, man? You know he's dating my brother. And you're supposed to be with Kenny, anyway, so what the fuck, Craig?"

Craig felt like he got socked in the stomach as he stared at his friend smoldering on the other side of the table. Shit, if Clyde knew, then Christophe clearly had to. He didn't mean that, it was supposed to be a mere parting kiss, something to tie up the loose ends while they found themselves. And now blabbermouth knew.

He settled with disinterest. "And? Who ever said Kenny and I were exclusive?"

"Should I worry about you stealing Bebe away now? It seems like you have a type," Clyde scoffed, eyes alight with fury.

Craig blinked, shocked. "You know I'd never-"

"Don't even start your shit, Craig, I didn't think you'd do it to Rissy either, but lo and behold, you are. I didn't even know you liked dudes until those pictures; what the fuck, Craig? I thought we were bros."

Ah, he thought, that was really the issue. He could see the hurt, the confusion, hidden under the brass anger Clyde wore on his sleeve. "I don't like dudes, Clyde."

"Really? Smooching on at least two dudes says otherwise, Craig," the brunette said with a snort, rolling his eyes. "Do you think I'm ashamed of you? Grossed out? Is that why you never told me? We're friends, Craig, best friends. It doesn't matter to me if you're gay."

"I'm not gay, I've had girlfriends," he sputtered, taken aback by the accusation. "Lots of girlfriends."

"Maybe because you were never happy in a relationship with a girl?" Clyde pointed out with knowing eyes. "But that doesn't mean you should sleezily steal away someone else's boyfriend, you know."

That did it. Craig laughed, a barking, hateful sound. "Me steal away Tweek? Maybe you should talk to your brother about how that really went."

Clyde seemed baffled, swallowed hard at that, eyes large and wide. "What do you mean by that?"

What the Hell, they were already here, on the subject, and he needed it to be open and out there. "I've been dating Tweek since freshmen year, Clyde, and we've been into each other way longer, since we were kids. Get it, Clyde? Your brother is the one to steal him from me."

"What? Since we were kids? What? He wouldn't, Chris wouldn't do that," Clyde sputtered, shock evident on his face.

As much as Craig wanted to lie to shatter the pedestal that Clyde held his brother on, he couldn't rip apart his friend's family for that. He shrugged as he tapped his pen against his notebook, avoiding Clyde's gaze. "He didn't. I made a stupid mistake and Christophe was there when Tweek needed it. Things just happened from there."

"So what about Kenny?"

Again a shrug. "Kenny was my stupid mistake. I enlisted him to get back at Tweek for being so happy with someone that wasn't me. Things kind of escalated from there."

"So you two aren't even really together, then?"

That made him stop. They started out as business partners, acting to piss off Tweek, and then continuing the charade to rub salt in the wound. But with the touch of lips that burned through him yesterday, he didn't know if he could say it was all an act now. Shit. "I don't know," he answered truthfully.

"Man, to me it sounds like you need to figure yourself out and what you want. If it's Tweek, it'll be Tweek, but you can't push it and you can't make it happen. If it's something else, fine, but you seem lost, Craig." Clyde stood up from the table he had invited himself to sit at, and threw the boy an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, man, for everything that's happened, and for coming in here ready to punch you. Thanks for communicating, I know you don't do that real well."

And with that Craig watched his childhood friend pick up a baguette at the counter, wave, and duck out into the bright afternoon sun.

As it turned out, when Clyde arrive back at the house after running errands, and his chat with Craig, Christophe was still putting pieces of the truck back together, Bebe under the undercarriage ratcheting in bolts without a care in the world. There was no mention made of the conversation in the cafe just joyous yips and bounds that, for once, Clyde had beat his big brother at something.

It was too late in the afternoon for lunch by the time Christophe gave up on putting the truck back together and instead Clyde got his choice of dinner. And Clyde, thinking of more than himself for once, decided he wanted to do a double date with his brother, having dinner at the local Steak 'n' Shake and seeing the new Jurassic World movie.

Christophe cleaned up his tools, threw a tarp over the remaining truck parts, and jumped into a smoldering shower to scrub the filth from himself. And it was there his mind went back to the idea of Craig and Tweek, an idea he tried but couldn't shake from his mind. Was the blonde regretting his relationship, spawned by Craig's drunken mistake in the woods? Was he missing everything he had before? Did he still want to be with Craig, despite everything that had happened?

"I talked to Craig today," came his brothers voice beyond the curtain, startling him into dropping the gritty bar of soap to the floor.

"What ze fuck, Clyde, I'm trying to shower!"

"Yeah, well, you weren't stopping to talk to me before then, so I jimmied the lock; remember when you taught me how to do that, you unfortunate bastard, you?"

"Get out," he hissed, poking his we head out from the curtain, glaring at the visage of his brother leaning against the vanity, picking at the dirt under his nails.

"Craig told me everything. About his relationship with Tweek. About a mistake he made. About you. What happened, Rissy? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"It wasn't my place to tell you about Craig," he started slowly, retreating behind the curtain and grabbing his soap from the floor. "It wasn't my place to tell you about Tweek. Or zem, and what zey were."

"So what are you, then?"

He hung his head, water falling freely through his soaked hair and down his face. "In love wiz a boy zat I shouldn't be."

"And yet that boy wants to go on a date with your ugly ass tonight, so what's that say, Rissy?" the boy mused. "Hurry up, we've got things to do!"

Christophe reveled in the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut as he finished up and got out, making an effort to shave the stubble on his face and combing his messy hair up and out of his eyes. He settled with relax fit jeans that fell easily over his combat boots, a black t-shirt that fit snug over his shoulders, and a green canvas jacket with a furry hood thrown over top. Clyde, sitting on the bottom on the stars in a white shirt with a black jacket over it, black jeans, and hair combed back like a '50s goon whistled up at him.

"Damnit, Rissy, no wonder the girls all drooled over you," he said with a grin, receiving grey eyes that rolled at the absurdity of the statement. "You shoulder wear jeans more often."

At the entry alcove Christophe grabbed his cell phone, wallet with chain, and pack of cigarettes that he jammed into his pockets. He placed his father's dogtags over his neck and raised a brow.

"You sound incestual."

"Well, I mean, you are my step brother so I don't think it's illegal," Clyde said wagging his eyes brows, barely dodging the fist aimed at his shoulder as he skipped out the front door as he heard the exhaust of the gunmetal Mustang that pulled up, Bebe's father's car.

The curly-haired blonde walked around the side of the car in a form fitting sweater and leggings, black boots laced up her calves, a red smile on his glossy lips, blue eyes glamorous in the smoky shadow she wore. Tweek walked out of the car, gaze traveling up and down Christophe, a pink tint flushing his cheeks.

"You clean up well, babe," Clyde said with a grin as he twirled Bebe in his arms, placing a slobbery kiss on her cheek. "Do I get to drive? Please? Pretty please?"

"You can't drive stick, Clyde, and you know that," the angel chastised with a tut as she threw the keys at the Mole. "Plus, his legs are too long to fit in the back of a two-door car - have you seen him try to fit into mine? It's hilarious, and sad."

"Thanks," Christophe mumbled as the two lovebirds climbed into the back, Clyde pouting only momentarily. He adjusted the seat and tested the clutch, a wicked smile playing across his face as he tore off, a girlish giggle lighting up the night from the back.

"Sweet Jesus, Chris, you're gonna kill us!" Tweek exclaimed as he took a curve in third gear before downshifting to gain speed and taking off again.

"Your hair looks good like that," Christophe said, glancing over to Tweek with an appreciative look. The blonde flushed under the look, hiding behind his hands, watching as Christophe downshifted with his long fingers barely touching the shifter knob.

"You just look good in general. Jesus, Chris."

He smiled at that as he pulled into the diner and pulled the ebrake, letting the two out of the back and shutting the door. As Tweek started to make his way to the door, the Mole reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking his head as Bebe and Clyde, hand in hand, gave them a questioning look. "Two cherry cokes, we'll be right in."

Bebe gave him a look under her thick lashes before turning on her heel, letting Clyde lead her inside. Tweek gave him a questioning look as Christophe leaned his hip back against the car, arms crossed over his chest.

"Is this an interrogation? You're making me nervous," Tweek said, laughing nervously to himself.

"Why didn't you tell me Craig kissed you?" Christophe asked, unmoving. "Why did I 'ave to 'ear et from Clyde?"

Tweek's mouth felt dry as he swallowed, hazel gaze hitting the ground as he clacked his knuckles together, a shivering running up his spine. "I-I, I didn't want you to be upset. I had to get my head around it."

He smiled sadly, jamming his hands in his pockets, rather than wrapping his fingers in the golden blonde of Tweek's hair. "Do you want to be with Craig still? Am I the reason you are not?"

"What? No!" the blonde said, shaking his head back and forth dangerously. "I'm not with Craig, because I want to be with you. Yeah, I'd be a liar if I didn't think about him sometimes. I'd be a liar if I didn't think about our routines, because Craig was familiar. But you, Chris, God, you're so exciting and make me feel like I ever have before. Don't you believe me?"

"I do," he said slowly, tearing his gaze away. "I love you. But you frighten me, sometimes, thinking you may not be as happy as you proclaim."

Tweek wound his arms around Christophe, burying his cheek against the warmth emitting from the Mole, drowning in the sweet, earthy scent, ignoring the tears pricking at his eyes. "I'm happy, except when you are so self-loathing. If I didn't want to be with you, Chris, I wouldn't be, okay? Get that through you're terribly rugged, terrible stubborn exterior."

Feeling the shiver that ran through the blonde's body, Christophe pushed him back and placed his large coat over his lithe shoulders, smiling as he had to roll the sleeves up to show the tips of his thin fingers. Drawing the hood close to his face, Christophe leaned down, breaths mingling as he tasted coffee on Tweek's lips. When he pulled back, he felt satisfaction at the pink tint to Tweek's cheeks.

"Dually noted. Let's go and enjoy our date, mon amor."

When the sun set into the mountains and the night air whirled, sending dead leaves scattering across the concrete, a chill blasting around the quaint houses, the kids of South Park High had decided against a bonfire in the anticipation of the season's first snow in the coming days. Instead, across town Craig sat wrapped up in his coat in the basement, lapringer pushing his raven hair over his eyes, guitar in his lap that his fingers strummed a tune to idly as a blonde in an orange coat, perched on a stool, belted out the corresponding lyrics.

"And I found a tidal wave begging to tear down the dawn, memories like bullets they fired at me from a gun," Kenny crooned, silky voice echoing off the concrete walls, wrapping around Craig like a cocoon. The emotion was palpable as the blonde sang, amping his voice up to hit all the right notes and back them by the deepest depths of emotion he could. "The currents will drag us, away from our love, you've got to keep your head above..."

The final trill of his chord cut through the air as Craig raised an appreciative brow. "And why don't we do more solos of you? Your voice, dude. I've never heard anything quiet like it."

"I'm not really a spotlight kinda guy, Craig," Kenny said with a shrug, although he couldn't hide the smile at the praise he was receiving.

"Coming from the class clown, that's novel," Craig said with a snort as he rolled his eyes. "I know you don't have stage fright, you're our front man, so why does it freak you out to do solo work so much?"

Running his hands through his messy hair that his hood covered, Kenny shrugged. "It's a lot of pressure going solo. A lot of commitment. A lot of money. I just don't have that kind of time. Plus, I kind of like celebrating with the guys after a good show."

"If you want to do it, I'll do it with you," Craig countered, receiving a suggestive look from Kenny. "Not like that, dude, jeez! But seriously. I'll play backup for you. you really need to accept your talent, though."

Another shrug. "Maybe one day. Although I think I should be offended, not wanting to do it with me, being your boyfriend and all," Kenny scoffed as he threw himself down on the beat up sofa, arms over his head.

Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, Craig placed his guitar down, avoiding the blonde's gaze. "Speaking of that."

Popping over to his stomach, arms under his chin, feet kicking up behind him, Kenny cocked his head like a cat. A pierced, tattooed, grungy street cat. "Breaking up with me, Tucker?"

"Well, no."

A pierced brow raised, the question on his face Kenny asked, "Well, what then?" Kenny watched curiously as the raven-haired boy flitted nervously, hands messing with the bracelets marching up Craig's arms, eyes looking anywhere but the blonde.

Finally he looked up, determination in those meadow eyes and aid, "Fuck it," under his breath as he resting one hand on the back of the couch, the other under Kenny's stubbly chin, and pressed warm Kool-aid flavored lips against the blonde's. Kenny felt his face warm at the contact, felt his airway tighten as Craig's cologne filled his head and made him dizzy. After what seemed like forever, Craig pulled back, his freckles popping against the coloring creeping up his cheeks.

Licking his lips nervously, pulling the duochrome ring inward with his teeth, head buzzing as he stared at the molten green eyes of Craig, Kenny laughed. "Well, this complicates things, doesn't it?"

A/N: The song that Kenny sings at the end is "Swim" by Jack's Mannequin. Holy shit, I never thought I'd touch upon the delicacies of Crenny, it was never a ship I terribly enjoyed, but Craig went for it, that mothereffer! What's next up on the 11th installment of Clear Skies? I don't know but let's find out! xoxox Corrie