AN: And back to Craig's POV. I'll go back to Tweek's sometime.

…

Chapter Ten: A Rarity

I'm not quite sure how Tweek's feet got in my lap.

Well, I know how they got there. The back counter at Rit's is a counter that begs to be sat upon. And everyone does. I had been checking inventory (somehow, the count got mixed up on a White Stripes CD I'd been wanting- opps) so Tweek had taken over the counter, sprawled out writing away in his notebook. I'd gotten him to move his feet for me to sit down. And then he moved his feet back.

So that is how it happened. The real questions are 1) why did he decide it was okay? and 2) why am I letting him?

Me and Tweek haven't really talked. He's really inside his own head most of the time, and… well, you know me. Neither of us are very social, that much is obvious. It's a comfortable, mutual silence, but silence none the less.

I keep the silence because I don't really want to know him or anyone else. Allowing physical contact does not keep someone at a distance. I don't get anything out of his feet. Why don't I just push him off?

But I guess it's not really hurting either. It's not like his legs take up much room, anyway.

So here we sit, me reading and Tweek doing his Tweek-like things. The bell rang, causing Tweek to jerk, withdrawing his feet. My lap feels strangely empty … what? Shut up. We'd been sitting there for a long time. I heard him mutter, "Oh shit."

"What?" I ask, not looking up.

"I hate this bitch," he hisses back. "So act like a dick."

"I resent the fact you assume I'd act rudely to a lady," I say flatly and I fold over the page of my book and put it down.

"Seriously, Craig? Shut up and do as your told. And this woman is no lady." The chick that had walked in is a eighteen-ish year old blonde who wasn't particularly hot. She definitely isn't ugly, but she's nothing special. Even, boring, eyes with a straight, boring nose with thin, boring lips. Her best feature was the blondness, even that is obviously fake (I only like real blonds, thank you very much- unless they're Anne, in which case I'm not interested.)

She carried herself like she was Satan's gift to a male's libido. I suspect that to be due to experience.

Note to chicks- Don't act like you're the hottest shit because you can get laid. If you're easy, it doesn't matter how (not) hot you are.

Her shirt is slung low enough for it not to matter that her boobs are little lopsided.

She walks straight over to the counter and says, "Hey, Tweekers!"

"Hello, Cynthia." He smiled at her, and I swear to God, I had never seen a better I Fucking Hate Your Bones smile.

"Whose your friend?" she said, smiling over at me.

"Coworker. Craig Tucker." I just stare back at her.

"Well, Craig, nice to meet you! I'm Cynthia Gardner, but you can call me Cindi. With an I." Well, isn't that special? I grunted at her and switch my gaze lower. Why Kenny would bother doing this for reasons other than hoping to put someone off, I do not know. Really, why do guys love tits so much? They're just two awkwardly placed bowls of fat that sit on chests of females everywhere.

"Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Well, I'd like for Craig to stop staring down my shirt."

"You're not leaving much to look down into," I say. She giggles. I was not aware I was flirting. I hate when I do that.

"Hello. Innocent bystander who doesn't want to go voyager here."

"Whatever. Your mom wanted me to come and tell you that your, eh, cooking classes start too early today so you'll have to go over to Granny Mable's house this afternoon. Still getting babysat, Tweekie? How sweet." She made me want to knock her pretty little teeth out with her next smile.

He just glares.

"You are such a pathetic fag." Break her nose, tear out her earrings, break her nails (which hurts more than you think it does.) Tweek was getting so red he'd put a tomato to shame.

And then the little bitch had the nerve to turn to me and say, "Well, Craig, I totally look forward to getting to know you better."

"Unless you want to fuck I don't really see a reason to ever see you again." I saw Tweek glaring holes into my skull, so I added, "But not even then. I'm trying not to catch any STDs this year."

You'd think if she was really angry she wouldn't sway her ass so much as she stormed away.

"Seriously?" He was glaring at me, face still red and twitching.

"What? Unwanted advances piss chicks off."

"Yeah, but she's a whore. She'd bone the local priest, and trust me, that dude's an ugly old man." Due to how snippy he sounded, I was going to let him sit there pissed, but on the other hand…

"So… cooking classes?"

I got assaulted. He does not hit like a girl. "Shut the hell up! My mom's forcing me to go!" I really didn't mean to start laughing at him. He practically screams in aggravation and resumes slapping me. "I hate you so much!"

After letting him go for a minute it takes me a matter of roughly fifty seconds to pin him against the wall, wrists secured above his head. He keeps wiggling, though. Give the tiny guy some credit, he made a valiant effort to get away.

But I still ended up on top of him on the counter, completely pinned. He huffed indignantly, and I take it as a white flag.

It took me a minute to realize how… PG-13 our position was. Our limbs were entangled together, hands joined, faces centimeters away from each other, us breathing heavily, him still flustered.

Hm.

"Get off me," he moaned. I could do that. Or…

"Nope."

"No? Damn it, Craig, why do you have to be such a damn ass!" I just settle in for a nap. He did a strange groan-hiss sound- it was quite strange, really. "Comfortable?" he snaps.

"Nah, you're too bony." And then my pillow kicks me and moves away.

…

"Subway."

"I hate Subway. And we had it for lunch yesterday."

"Well then, you shouldn't have asked. You knew what I was going to say."

"Maybe I was just trying to be polite. Stop being a douche."

"Well, what do you want, Oh Mighty Picky One?"

"I dunno."

"Then why are you complaining about Subway! It's healthy and shit."

"You only like it because it's boring. And I hate healthy stuff."

"Then you're going to get fat and die."

"Craig. Look at me. I couldn't get fat if I sat in one place and ate nothing but Twinkies for a year."

"Well, you'd definitely die from malnutrition."

"Stop being a smartass."

"Better than being a dumbass."

"People, ghn, hate smartasses."

"Only dumbass people." Us, bicker? Never.

While we were discussing whose more annoying (dumbasses, he's just running around in circles now) and what to have for lunch ("Damn it, Craig, we've have had Subway three days in a row!" So? "So you're an ass!" His logic is something to wonder.)

"Okay, how about this," he takes a deep breath, which is what he always does when he's preparing to get an idea across, "I go over to Tai's and get what I want and I'll get you a kiddie PB & J."

He really hates PB & Js. I don't understand why, it's completely illogical. "Where is Tai's?"

"A few blocks that way," he says, waving in a general left direction. "It only takes a few minutes to get there from here."

I ponder for a second and then say, "Five PB & Js."

He rolls his eyes at me. "You are a… child." He stops in the middle of sentences sometimes. I can literally see himself reorganize the sentence in his mind, eyebrow scrunched in concentration (one eyebrow is practically always twitching, the other is a signal of I'm Thinking.) "Dish it." I hand him over a ten and he's out the door.

…

He's been gone for awhile. Tweek, the little hypocrite, hates complicated things more than I do so it's not like he would order some… I dunno, French Caviar Frog Leg Special or something.

Someone had came a few minutes ago, so I could probably hazard a little wayward wondering.

It wasn't hard to find him. He was making out with his apparent boyfriend at the corner.

I can't really describe the sudden feeling that suddenly boiled its way into me right then.

I stalked my way over to the happy couple. "Hate to break this up, but someone has to get their ass back to work if they expect me to not hack a nice chunk of change off the top," I say. They break apart fast.

"Shitcraig." Wasn't aware that was one word. His freaking eyes blew up and he started blushing. After picking the bag off the ground (seriously?) he slinks over next to me. Freaking cute sonuvabitch…

Boyfriend Boy looks like Cindi's boyfriend. Tall, muscular, brunette, the kind of hot that usually gets overrated…

I could probably kick his ass. Of course, I could probably kick Muhammad Ali's ass on a good day.

"Hey, I'm-"

"Yeah, don't care, have to get to work, bye," I interrupt, walking back to Rit's. I could hear Tweek scurrying after me. Fortunately, my legs are a lot longer than his are.

"Craig, wait-"

"What? You wanted to take a break to make out with your boyfriend. Couldn't just say that?"

"Dude, Craig-" I speed up. "Damn it, Craig, stop being an over-sized jerk and wait up."

I don't know why, but I slow down to let Tweek catch up. "To begin with, Connar and I have hated each other sense I moved here."

"So? I've fucked people I hate before." Okay, honestly, I may have done more than make out with Anne.

"Whore. He's not my boyfriend."

"Fuck buddy, whatever."

"Craig!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever."

"No, don't-"

"Tweek." I reach out and give him one armed sideways Man Hug. "I'm kidding. Not your boyfriend. What the hell were you doing, then?"

He shrugs. "No one wants to beat up a masochist." He somehow must have seen my eyebrow up because he added, "Psh, not that I'm actually a masochist! Don't give me that look."

"Whatever you say, Tweekers."

…

AN 2.0: Review pleeeaaassseee.