05.14.2012 - 05.15.2012
Stan Marsh: -Girlfriend wants jacket back. She's coming to your house soon.
Craig Tucker: -What? What the fuck, why is she coming to my house?
Stan Marsh: -she wants my letterman back.
Craig Tucker: -She can have it; you're the one that gave it away.
Stan Marsh: -i didn't give it away I forgot about it
Craig Tucker: -Right, well you can tell her I'm leaving it at the front door. I don't need more fucking people in my house uninvited.
Stan Marsh: -that's probably best.
Craig Tucker: -Well due to the fact that someone has a tendency to just come the fuck in whenever they damn please, the door will be locked, so tell her not to bother knocking. Just pick it up and leave.
Stan Marsh: -I got your first message. I get the point.
Craig Tucker: -So are you done talking yet? I'm busy.
Stan Marsh: -uh, been done. you keep messaging me. i'm just telling you she's going to stop by sometime.
Stan Marsh: -I told her about last night.
Stan Marsh: -but I didn't tell her what I asked, so please just don't talk about it.
Craig Tucker: -I just told you that I'm leaving the damn jacket on the porch; there will be no conversation involved. Don't you listen? You just told me you fucking understood.
Stan Marsh: -ok..
Stan Marsh: -craig, kyle's going to help you get your music folder back.
Stan Marsh: -could you set up a time for him to go over to your house.
Craig Tucker: -Why are you even helping, fuck you, you're the one that deleted it all.
Stan Marsh: -just set up a time with him, craig, I don't want to really talk with you.
Stan Marsh: -and kenny knows, I'm sorry.
Stan Marsh: -I tried telling him I started it but he's still pissed.
Craig Tucker: -Why the fuck are you insistent on ruining my life? Can't I tell my own goddamn boyfriend about my own life before you have to fucking butt in?
Stan Marsh: -he's my goddamn best friend, I had to tell him.
Craig Tucker: -Yeah, and he's my boyfriend, I should have had the opportunity to tell him fucking first. Fuck you, seriously.
Stan Marsh: -bros before hoes, asshole.
Craig Tucker: -What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? Fuck you; if Kenny breaks up with me because he thinks I'm hiding things from him, I'm going to fucking kill you.
Stan Marsh: -yeah. you're totally great at killing people. knock them to the ground then make out with them to death
Craig Tucker: -We didn't make out and you're the one that kissed me so fuck you.
Stan Marsh: -yeah. I know. i told him I initiated it. so fuck you.
Stan Marsh: -i was being sarcastic, you asshole. like you'd ever kill me
Craig Tucker: -The only reason I didn't actually kill you was because I didn't want to get even further on Wendy's fucking bad side. You fucking DELETED all my fucking music. I SHOULD have killed you.
Stan Marsh: -just try to kill me tucker. if you even come near me I'll kick the shit out of you.
Craig Tucker: -Yeah because you've done so well at that in the past. The best move you could come up with was fucking biting me like a woman. You'd never beat me.
Stan Marsh: -that's because I didn't know if there were cameras. you'd be on the floor if you tried to kill me tucker, trust me on that.
Craig Tucker: -Well I don't care enough to find out; I'm not going fucking anywhere near you. In fact, I'm done texting you, too. Fuck off.
Stan Marsh: -you know you'd lose. guess I win.
Stan Marsh: -wuss.
Stan Marsh: -btw, apparently biting was effective, so you'd go down first in a fight.
Stan Marsh: -the only reason you stopped texting was because you know I'd make you my bitch.
Stan Marsh: -like I did three times in the locker room.
Stan Marsh: -come on asshole. you threaten me, I'm going to bother the fucking hell out of you.
Stan Marsh: -by the way, I told Kenny you enjoy biting.
Stan Marsh: -guess I should have waited for him to figure that out too huh.
Stan Marsh: -oops.
Craig Tucker: -Fucking Christ, if you don't fucking stop I'm going to throw myself off a fucking building. Or my window, it's a lot closer.
Stan Marsh: -…what?
Craig Tucker: -Don't ask what, fucking moron, read the text again.
Stan Marsh: -are you going to commit suicide? wtf?
Craig Tucker: -Fuck you, stop fucking texting me.
Stan Marsh: -no seriously
Craig Tucker: -What's not serious? I'm telling you to fucking stop.
Stan Marsh: -am I making you suicidal?
Craig Tucker: -No, fuck you, just fucking stop.
Stan Marsh: -you're like totally sure you're not suicidal right
Craig Tucker: -Maybe not if you don't fucking stop. What do I have to do to get you to leave me the fuck alone?
Stan Marsh: -dude you're not serious about that are you?
Craig Tucker: -Fuck. Off.
Stan Marsh: -are you okay?
Around 11, Stan exited his house with his phone in the pocket of his hoodie. He of course didn't have his letterman jacket he usually wore, so he had grabbed the first available cover. Wearing jeans and boots - he didn't bother with his hat, and he didn't want to take his car because he was afraid it'd wake up his parents.
Rounding the corner to Craig's house, he wondered if he had been serious. He was pretty sure he was serious, after all, he had told him some things that made Stan question whether he was going to off himself before, and lying in the street the previous night wasn't exactly strengthening Craig's case for not being suicidal. As soon as he reached the house, he tried the door and found it was indeed locked. Damnit.
Looking around, he realized he could easily step up on the water spout in front of the house and climb in through the window. He did so and tried the window - luckily it was open. He slowly eased himself into the house, and then shut the window behind him and hurried up the steps as quietly as he could. Almost running up the steps to the attic, he opened the door and then said immediately,
"It's not worth it, don't you dare fucking kill yourself you asshole!"
Craig looks up from his spot on his bed, seeing Stan at his door way. He furrow his brows and set his phone down on the mattress next to him. He takes out his ear buds and sits up.
"How the fuck did you get in my house; the fucking door is locked," he says. How the hell did Stan even get in? Why the hell is he there?
"I climbed through the window, and I know it's technically breaking and entering and that's illegal but if you're going to kill yourself, fuck the guidelines. Don't do it."
Stan said in one breath, and breathed in, and then out again heavily. With one glance around the room, he wondered what Craig had intended to do it with - was he actually going to jump out the window? He seemed to be settled down on his mattress. …maybe Kyle had been right.
Craig raises an eyebrow at that. "You came all the way over here and broke into my house just to tell me 'don't do it?'" he asks, actually kind of amused by it. He tries to hold in his chuckle, but it starts to leak out. He gives in and lets out a few seconds of laughter before looking back up at Stan.
"Bro. Seriously? I'm the last person that would ever commit suicide. If you don't even know that, then you don't know me atall. I mean yeah, I'm going through a lot of shit right now, and you make me want to stick my head through a wall, but come on. Me? Suicide?"
He stops speaking for a second, realizing that he'd been talking a lot. Maybe he's finally snapped. He just had a humorous moment with Stan Marsh, what the fuck. Well, he thought it was funny at least, but he doesn't know about Stan.
He focuses on Stan's face to gauge how he's taking it. If Stan had actually been worried, he'd probably be pissed that Craig laughed, but if not, then… if not then why is Stan here? So Craig is probably about to get slapped, but he doesn't even care. That little bit of laugher made him mellow out, so now he's in a good mood. A good joke always does that for Craig.
"…what."
Stan stared at Craig, and then finally moved inside the door and shut it behind him. He didn't want Craig's parents inquiring why a random student walked in the house and ran into Craig's room - though he couldn't remember the last time he saw the Tucker parents. Probably some town event or something. Well, either way this wasn't going to be the first time they saw him in months if he could help it.
When Craig started laughing, Stan's confusion increased. What was wrong with him? Was he mental? He actually considered leaving, but he couldn't do that, just in case Craig was just playing off his suicidal tendencies as a joke.
"Well…okay." He said after a moment, refraining from yelling at the other for not taking suicidal threats seriously. "You're still acting weird. Are you okay?" He stared at Craig blankly. "Do you like…have someone to talk to about all this shit?"
Craig waves a hand dismissively before stretching his arms in the air. Really, he'd been laying in that same spot too long. He hears his back pop before he lowers his arms again. "Yeah, bro, I'm fine," he says. It's almost flat, but it still holds a bit of his humor.
He looks back to Stan to see that he's not actually angry anymore. Or maybe he never was. "Were you that worried?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. Maybe Stan actually cared about other people after all.
Wait, nope. Stan deleted his music; he doesn't care about anyone. But still, he's here right now, so he must at least care about Craig's life, if not his happiness.
"Well…yeah." Stan said, still staring Craig down. Why wasn't he more angry that Stan just broke in his house? Why did he laugh? Why did he send messages threatening suicide after Stan essentially bullied him? He must have known this would be an outcome, if not calling the cops - though Stan really didn't want anyone else to get caught up in this. No, he's prefer to straighten it out himself.
He moved towards Craig's bed, and then sat down on the edge near to Craig. His back was to the other, but he was turned in a way he could see Craig's face. At first, he looked uneasy as if he were going to die if he planted his ass anywhere in Craig's room, but then he got over it fairly quick.
"Look, I know I was giving you a hard time..I really did tell Kenny all that, but I left out a lot that you did so it made me look bad. And he's really pissed at me, and he told Kyle that he is, and then he told me you make him really happy…So I think you've got a better chance at saving your friendship with him than I do." He looked at his hands, and he then idly commented, "He told me that like five hours ago. And I guess when you said you were going to kill yourself I kind of freaked out because…I don't hate you that much. So…uh… just don't die? Please."
He knew adding please to a comment like that probably had no significance, but he did it anyways. With a glance towards Craig, he leaned over and wrapped his arms around Craig, though he didn't move very close - he gave the other breathing room. It was more a friendly, 'please don't leave me' hug.
Craig watches as Stan approaches the bed, wondering what he's going to do. When Stan makes his little speech, Craig doesn't speak. There's no way that's the truth, but Craig doesn't want to argue it right now. He's feeling good, and nothing matters right now, so whatever. Craig can deal with his anger later.
When Stan leans over to hug him Craig doesn't even think about it before he wraps his arms around Stan in return. He holds it in a firm hug, like one he might give Clyde, and he's weirded out by its normalcy for a second, but he decides to let it go because he'd actually worried Stan.
"I'm not going to die, Stan," he says matter-of-factly. He's too chill right now to care for sounding one way or another. He'll just hug Stan until Stan decides he done.
"You don't even know.." Stan commented after a moment, his voice slightly quivering as he tightened his grip on Craig. "You don't even know dude..what I've been through with Kenny, I don't want to have to worry about someone else, okay…"
He wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying - for some reason, in this moment, he trusted Craig a lot, and maybe momentarily forgot Craig wasn't in on the secret.
"Like when he told me he dies a lot and comes back, I'm like bullshit..that doesn't happen. And so I've been going through those fucking first aid classes and I can't handle it, every time he gets upset, I just…we need to stop so he doesn't hurt himself or something. Because he really likes you. But please don't do something stupid, I can't handle it anymore..I can't handle death right now."
Craig lets Stan cling tighter, and even pulls him in a bit more. Okay, it's starting to get a little freaky how natural this feels right now. When Stan starts to talk though, Craig understands why he's being so compliant. Stan sounds like he might cry, and Craig never knows what to do when people cry, so he just hugs them.
He stays silent a moment, not really knowing what to say. Is Stan going to break down? He thinks about Stan's words though. So Kenny really does die all the time? When Kenny had told him that, he didn't really know what to think. He believed Kenny, but he didn't talk about it much beyond that.
"You've… seen him die?" he asks, if not a bit hesitantly. He's never actually seen it for himself. He decides that was probably the wrong thing to say, because it'll only make Stan sadder, so he changes his mind. "I mean I'm not going to die, don't worry about it," he says.
One of his hands absently moves up to run through Stan's hair. He doesn't notice, because it's just a habit he has with people he's trying to console. He never knows what to say, so he does things like hold and pet instead. Though, he never thought he'd be in this situation with Stan Marsh of all people.
"No, god no. He says I have," Stan commented idly, though his voice was still shaking. Obviously, he hadn't been able to tell Wendy or Kyle, and this was really getting to him. Every time he had first aid the instructor reinforced the potential of losing who you were trying to save, and it made him all the more freaked out every Tuesday afternoon.
He felt Craig's hand run through his hair, and it sent shivers down his spine; in a good way. It was at the same time really comforting, even though he wasn't used to it at all. He pulled away after a moment though, and turned his back to Craig so the other couldn't see him tearing up.
"Goddamn Kenny." He almost wanted to ask Craig if he could just lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling, but he felt like this situation was already too awkward. What were they even? Friends? Enemies? Frenemies? Possibly frenemy, but Stan hadn't really thought of that term - Garrison had used it before.
"Look, I think..it's probably better I just go," He said as he reached up to wipe his right eye with his sleeve, trying to look casual about it.
Craig lets his arms fall when Stan pulls away, not fighting to keep him there. No, why would he do that? He nods though, even if Stan can't see him past wiping his eye. He thinks a second, biting the inside of his cheek as he tries to decide.
"Well, um. If you want to like… stick around, you can," he says. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, not really sure how he's supposed to make Stan stop crying. Why does everyone cry tohim lately? "I mean, you just kind of seem upset and I don't know." He leaves it at that, not wanting to sound like he wants Stan to stay or anything; it's just an offer.
In reality, in the back of his head, he's thinking that if Stan leaves, he's probably going to go drown himself in some kind of alcohol, and well, he'd rather have Stan in his room than in a gutter.
At the invitation, Stan seriously considered it. On one hand, he felt comfortable with Craig and he was feeling too lazy to wander home. That, and he really couldn't remember where the last hiding spot his mother had was for the alcohol he wanted to consume. So he decided to move backwards, and laid down on the bed next to where Craig was sitting, his hands folded over his middle as he stared at the ceiling with slightly misty eyes.
"Sorry." It was a half-assed apology for crying on Craig, and he had done far worse to Kyle and never apologized for it. Somehow he felt like Craig was the wrong person to sob on - he didn't feel like Craig really knew what to do with emotions like that.
"So you're totally positive you're not going to go kick the bucket, right."
Craig watches as Stan lays back on his bed, and doesn't say anything to his apology. What was he apologizing for, anyway? Well, Stan has a lot to apologize for, but nothing in this exact moment.
He just sighs and flops back down into his original spot, where he'd been laying when Stan bursting into his room, and stares up at the ceiling as well.
"Yeah, I'm sure, bro," he says. He catches himself saying bro, and he's not sure if it's a bad thing or not. Stan isn't his bro, is he? Well, even if not, they're acting bro-ish at the moment, so what the fuck ever.
He puts his hands behind his head and relaxes into his mattress. So this isn't so bad, right? At least right now it isn't. They're not fighting, there's no weird tension, they're just chilling.
Stan stayed completely still for awhile, his eyes focused on the ceiling. He could hear Stripe rummaging in his pen, which reminded him of Mellow. He was still having trouble falling asleep to all the weird noises she made in the middle of the night. He wasn't going to admit that though to Craig - he had totally lied about being a heavy sleeper, and he wasn't going to show weakness in his ability to take care of pets.
He moved his head to the side to look at Craig, studying the other's face. Did he have pointy features? A little bit, but not really. And he did look remarkably like Stan, in some ways …eye color, hair color. He felt an urge to reach over and touch Craig's hair, but he instead turned to look at the ceiling again, hoping the other didn't see him observing his face in a loving way. That would just be…not after that sort of talk.
"So what are we doing?"
He asked, wondering if Craig would just say nothing. Everyone knew Craig liked doing absolutely nothing. Stan was bothered by it, but not particularly right now. Maybe the key to doing nothing was doing it with someone you liked doing nothing with.
Craig closes his eyes, content to just be laying there. It sounds a big quiet without his ear buds in his ears, but somehow he doesn't care. He can hear the both of them breathing, and it's… relaxing. Or something.
When he hears Stan ask what they're doing, he cracks a kind of crooked half-grin. "What does it look like we're doing?" he asks. Because really, all they're doing is laying there, it's not hard to figure out. Even still, he turns his head to look at Stan, amused expressions still across his face. "But we can do whatever you want to do," he says. He realizes a little too late that that could mean a lot of things, but he brushes it off. He thinks Stan will understand what he means. Right?
For a few minutes, Stan just let the silence settle in again. It wasn't like he had anything in mind - and he obviously didn't want a repeat of the previous night, or the locker rooms. He needed to wind down. It was one of the reasons he really didn't care about doing nothing - he needed a whole lot more time to just register a blank slate in his mind so he could think about things more clearly.
But he was feeling depressed in a way, he didn't want to say it but figured it was written on his sleeve - just like Kyle and Wendy had told him. So he decided to just come out and say it.
"If anything's on the table..want to..um..cuddle?"
Craig considers it for a moment, letting the idea roll around in his brain. Normally any kind of physical contact with Stan – good or bad – ends up in some hind of altercation. But right now, they seem calm enough that it might just work out without causing an issue.
He eventually shrugs and says "Sure, why not."
He brings an arm out from under his head and nods his head to the side once to motion for Stan to come closer. He figures it's pretty obvious what he intends, but then again, Stan is pretty ignorant about everything else, so he might have to explain cuddling, too.
He was actually surprised when Craig agreed to it. He was almost sure the other would have told him off for suggesting it, but when he accepted, Stan really didn't see a point in rejecting. After a moment, he edged over towards Craig and settled himself in a position of his head right below the other's chin, with one arm curled under him and the other draped over Craig and resting on the bed next to him. With a sigh, he closed his eyes.
When Stan settles into his chest, Craig lets his arm go where it needs to, around Stan's back. His hand lands flat against Stan's side near his ribs, and he wonders if maybe he shouldn't leave it there, but he doesn't care enough right now. Craig has no doubt that if it makes Stan uncomfortable, he'll tell Craig to fuck off, so it's whatever.
He fidgets a bit with his hand on the fabric of Stan's hoodie, and he vaguely wonders if Stan will get too hot wearing it, but decides against saying anything. For one it's not really his business, and for another thing it would just be all kinds of awkward to suggest that Stan take it off.
He settles again, letting Stan's weight settle in with his own. He's comfortable, and he wonders why it's not weird. It should be weird to be this comfortable and normal with Stan, but somehow it's not. At the moment, it just feels natural. Like something he should just let happen.
He was trying really hard to stay awake, but something about the white noise made him drowsy, and he really felt comfortable. It should have been wrong, but it wasn't in this moment, since Craig was being so accommodating. He felt Craig touching the fabric of his hoodie, but by then, his mind was drifting to other things. Wendy, mostly - what she would say, if she was going to get his jacket tonight - was his jacket going to get stolen - Kyle, did he really not want to make out with him anymore? He couldn't tell why that hurt, but it did sort of scare him, like he was a bad kisser or something. And what was with Wendy wanting to see him with Kyle?
The white noise in the room was lulling him to sleep, and the last thing he heard was the clicking of Stripe's water bottle as he drank. His hand went limp on the bed next to Craig, and his breathing slowed down and was even.
Craig feels Stan's body relax completely, and he doesn't give it much thought until he hears Stan's breathing get deeper. Did Stan just fall asleep? Craig looks down, and sure enough, Stan's asleep.
He considers waking him up and driving him home, but he's just way too comfortable. Plus… he kind of likes where Stan is laying. He closes his eyes and tries to let his mind fall blank. It doesn't take him long to fall asleep as well, Stan still tucked up against him.
Around five thirty, Stan stirred from his sleep. In the night he had moved slightly - he looked as if he had made his way to the headboard of the bed to hug a pillow, leaving Craig just inches away from his lower half. As his eyes opened, he murmured something groggily and in the dim light - not quite morning sun yet - he saw a shape, and automatically assumed it was his dog. Bending down, he planted a kiss on Craig's head, and then muttered, "Gmorning," and slowly pulled himself out of bed.
Oddly enough, he felt he still had his shoes on. Weird. He stalked lazily towards where he thought the door was, and heard Stripe stir in his cage. "Morning, Mellow," He muttered as he felt around, finding the door knob.
Now, so far there was nothing that had obstructed his daily morning routine.
Until he hit the stairs. Or, forgot they were there entirely.
With one frightened gasp, he hit the wall and tumbled down the steps and landed at the bottom with a thud.
Craig is still asleep when he feels something touch his head. He furrows his brows a bit but doesn't wake. The slight noise of Stan moving around doesn't wake him either, but when he hears a loud crashing, that definitely wakes him up. He sits up in his bed and looks around, trying to figure out what's broken. Wait… why is his door open?
He thinks back to any reason it could be open, and then he remembers. Stan fell asleep here last night…
Shit!
He scrambles out of bed and makes his way to his door. He peers down the staircase and sees Stan laying in a pile at the bottom. He resists laughing, because really, who falls down the stairs? But he realizes that Stan is laying on the floor in his dining room at god-knows-what-hour and there's other people that live there. Fuck!
He jogs down the stairs and picks Stan up off the floor. He's about to ask if Stan's okay, but what actually comes out is a harsh whispered, "What the fuck!" He hurries Stan back up the stairs and closes his door behind them. He leans back on the closed door, glad he saved Stan before anyone saw him.
He stares at Stan for a second, trying to process what's exactly happening. He's not a morning person, and he's a bit slow when he first wakes up. He glances at the clock on his night stand and it's near 5:30 in the fucking morning. Before he can really realize the full weight of the situation, he's more pissed about the fact that he's up so early.
Of all the questions he should be asking, the one he does ask is, "Why the Hell are you even awake this early; fuck!"
"Wh-what- no, don't move-" Stan tried batting Craig off but found the other pulling him up the stairs. He was still groggy but his automatic thought was, oh my god, what if I pulled or broke something? Coach is going to be so angry!
When it turned out he could walk, and he was just somewhat sore, he narrowed his eyes as he looked around the room. What? ..oh crap. He was at Craig Tuckers house. On a school morning. He didn't even have to think of how bad this would look to Wendy - HE thought it was bad.
Glancing at Craig, he noted how flustered he was with sleepiness. …it was actually kind of cute.
"What? Early? Dude, what time do you wake up? This is late!"
Craig gives Stan a blank stare. Late? Late? "How the fuck is 5:30 in the morning late?" he asks, disbelieving but really just sounding tired.
He dismisses Stan, deciding that he's fucking crazy and goes back to flop on his bed. He settles his head into a pillow and closes his eyes, still tired as Hell.
"Well if you want to get up and face my family, you go right the fuck ahead, but I'm going back to sleep and going into school late," he says. He's implying that by going in late, neither one of them has to be seen by his parents, but he doesn't know if Stan will pick up on it. So just to clarify, he says, "My parents leave for work right after Ruby leaves for school."
After that he just lays there, resisting pulling up his blankets. If Stan is just going to go with it and lay back down, he doesn't really want to be under the blankets with Stan, because no.
"Fuck." Stan said in response tiredly, his eyes half-closed as he glared at Craig and watched him retreat back to his bed. Staying in Craig's room for another hour, when it was already awkward, wasn't very appealing to him. He decided he was too damn tired to care though, and maybe he could just pretend it was a messed up weekend day where he slept in late…he stalked back to bed, crawling up on the side Craig was furthest away and curled up on his side so he could glare at the wall.
Craig is glad when he hears Stan finally shut up and crawl back into bed. Maybe this won't be quite as painful as he'd thought; he's just going to go back to sleep.
After glaring at the wall for at least two minutes, Stan decided to roll over and look at Craig. The other had his eyes closed, and he seemed to be sleeping, anyways. Stan really had an issue with falling asleep - especially somewhere not his own bed - so this was awkward. He studied Craig's face again, and then curled up on his side so he could stare at Craig.
"Isn't it going to be awkward that we both show up at the same time, late?"
He stared at Craig's messed up hair, which made him tempted to ruffle it.
Craig sighs when he hears Stan speak. He should have known it would be too much to ask to just be able to go back to sleep without interruption. No, that would be too convenient and everything in Craig's life has to be a battle, especially when it involves Stan Marsh.
He decides against answering because who the fuck cares what other people think, and instead says, "Is there something you want? Because fuck, I'm fucking tired, and I don't want you fucking talking, so just tell me what the fuck you want and shut the fuck up."
"I'm just going to stare at you as you sleep, then, go back to sleep."
It was intended to creep Craig out, and if Craig opened his eyes, he could tell Stan was glaring at him irately.
"Right, you go ahead and do that," Craig says, really not caring. Stan could stare as long as he fucking wanted to, as long as he shut the Hell up. Craig can sleep through staring, Craig can sleep with pretty much anything, actually, but when someone's talking to him? That's just downright annoying. Except Clyde; Craig's pretty much learned to block out Clyde's voice by now.
"So that doesn't bother you?" Stan asked after a few minutes, and then scooted closer to Craig, eliminating the space between them. Really, he moved so close he was almost touching Craig's nose. He propped up his head with one arm and then stared at the other.
Craig resists the urge to punch Stan in the head for continuing to speak, deciding that it's not worth it. Pick your battles and all that shit. "No, nothing fucking bothers me. It's 5:30 in the fucking morning; the only thing that's bothering me is that you won't let me go the fuck back to sleep."
Without giving Craig much time to relish in telling him off, Stan added, "What if I put my hand in your pants? Can you sleep through that too?" It was probably too early to test Craig but Stan was going to anyways.
Craig lets out a frustrated sigh. "You're not going to stick your hand in my pants," he says, fairly confident that it's true. Then again, Stan has been pretty interesting with his decisions lately, so he supposes Stan might. But still, he's pretty sure Stan won't.
"Will you please just shut the fuck up?" he asks, emphasizing please because he really just wants to fucking sleep.
"I don't know," Stan said in an apathetic tone, "You've got killer bed head going on right now, I might not be able to help myself." He continued to stare at Craig's face, wondering if he could bother the other so much that he stayed awake with him.
Craig opens his eyes to glare at Stan, not realizing how close the other was until he did so. He doesn't let it phase him, though, and just speaks anyway. "Are you really not going to let me sleep?" he asks, staring Stan in the eye. "I might just throw you back down the fucking stairs and let you face my mom."
"Oh yeah," Stan said in the same bored tone. "You're going to manhandle me - that's what I like early in the morning." Obviously he was using sarcasm, but he didn't break the connection between their eyes. "Should I take off my hoodie before you put your hands on me?"
"Ugh, I'm not going to fight with you this early in the fucking morning," he says, his voice still tired. He closes his eyes again and opts for just ignoring Stan. If Stan keeps talking, he'll just… he doesn't know, but he'll do something. Something to make him shut the fuck up.
"Awwwww..no love for me? Come on, that's just weak." He stared at Craig even though the other was trying to dismiss him by closing his eyes. "Maybe I should just go hug Stripe or something, right. Or use your computer. If you're going to ignore me. You're a real shitty host."
"Fuck you," is Craig's only response. It's not like those things are something Stan has never done before. He already let Stripe get fresh with Mellow, and he already fucked up his computer, so what more harm could Stan really do? He just continues to lay there, and even stifles a yawn behind his hand. He curls in his knees just a tiny bit and gets comfortable. He's going to sleep whether Stan likes it or not.
Still gazing at Craig with a look of determination, he let the other think he was going to stay silent for about three minutes. Then he moved his hand over and slipped it under the rim of Craig's pants, and moved it so his hand was cupping Craig's right ass cheek. He still had an indifferent expression on his face, so it really wasn't an indicator to why he just stuck his hand down Craig's pants. Stan really hated being ignored.
Craig is a bit shocked when he feels Stan's hand slide insides his pants. Okay, he wasn't expecting that, and he's proud of the fact that he didn't jump when he was unexpectedly touched. That fact alone makes this moment great, because it means that Craig can continue to just lay there, like he didn't even notice. If he can just ignore Stan completely, maybe he can actually catch another hour's sleep before they go to school. So that's what he does.
Dude, was Craig part dead fish or what? Stan thought as he glared at Craig. The bastard wasn't responding to anything, not even an ass grab. With a slightly irritated sigh, he kept his hand where he had put it and then said, "I could move it to the front if that's what wakes you up. Hey, can you sleep through a blow job?"
Craig frowns at that, not knowing if Stan would actually try to do it or not. Were it someone else, namely Kenny, he'd gladly wake up for that; but Stan? No, that would be a bad idea. He sighs and opens his eyes to give Stan a pointed look. "What. The fuck. Do you want from me?" he asks. He doesn't sound half as exhausted as he feels, but that's not saying a lot.
Actually, though, last night was the first full night of sleep he'd gotten in quite a while. Normally he's fighting with Stan or something and doesn't get much sleep. Ironic how his first real sleep in the past week and a half was with the one causing the lack of sleep to begin with.
Stan stared back, and slowly frowned as Craig returned his gaze with a hard look. He couldn't deny that it made him feel a bit weird with his hand down Craig's pants. He didn't blink or look away however; instead he continued to look sad and said very seriously, "I hate being alone after I wake up." truthfully, that's why Stan slept with a dog.
Craig has to resist rolling his eyes, because Stan looks completely serious. "Ugh, you're not alone, I'm fucking right here," he says. Fucking really? Why is Craig the one that has to deal with this?
He thinks about it for a second, trying to come up with some kind of compromise, because there's no way he's not going back to sleep, and he'd rather not throw Stan downstairs so he doesn't have to face his family's questioning. After a few moments, he comes up with something.
"Would you let me fucking sleep if I held you again?" he asks, trying to make it sound as non-awkward as possible, but not really succeeding. Well, he feels a bit awkward, but his voice is always generally flat so he's not sure how it sounds. And really, he doesn't even care if it's awkward because he just wants to fucking go back to sleep.
"Well..yeah, sure." Stan commented after considering it, and then he glance down at the mound that was his hand in Craig's pants. He was going to remove his hand, but in his refusal to be awake and alone, he had put it there without really thinking about it. Now he was. "Uhh…" he began, pausing awkwardly. "Your…ass. I..um.." He wanted to say he was sorry for grabbing it, but the wrong words came out instead. "It's really warm there."
Craig does roll his eyes at that. "Yeah okay, I don't care. Just get your hand out of my pants and turn the fuck around so I can do this if it's what's going to shut you up."
There's no way Craig is moving from his spot, so if Stan wants to be held, he's going to have to accommodate. Crag doesn't really think about the fact that he just told Stan to spoon up against him, but he also doesn't care. All he cares about is sleeping right now, and if holding Stan will give him that, then he'll do it.
Stan slowly pulls his hand upwards so his fingers grazed Craig's lower back, and then he stopped for a second before he removed his hand completely. Rolling over, he scooted up towards Craig and then twisted a bit to reach over and grab Craig's arm, not waiting for the other to move it - so he put Craig's arm over his waist for him. He was quiet, but he still had his eyes open. Really, he was fully aware this was spooning, but he was trying to make light of it by thinking of something else. However his mind always came back to the fact Craig's junk was in close proximity to his ass.
Craig takes note of how slowly Stan removes his hand, but decides that he doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't care what it means. All he cares about is sleep.
He lets Stan move his arm because hey, whatever floats Stan's fucking boat. He finally relaxes again, trying to get comfortable with Stan against his chest. After a few seconds, he sighs, thankful that Stan might actually go back to sleep now. He closes his eyes again and attempts to go back to sleep for the hundredth time.
Stan allows Craig to sleep. He hears rustling downstairs after awhile, and then doors closing. By the time eight rolled around, he was sweating under his hoodie even though the hood was off- Craig's arm was comfortably draped over his waist, but it only generated more heat. Deciding to test the waters, Stan reaches down with his free arm and rubs Craig's hand gently with his thumb. "Hey…jackass. Wake up?" He said softly, his voice low at first. Then he raised it a bit and added, "Dickweed, we're going to miss all of first hour. Get up."
Craig hears Stan say something, and he scrunches his face in annoyance. Can't he just sleep more? He's so comfortable that he doesn't care; he just wants to sleep all day. Without really thinking about who it is that's in his bed, he mumbles something about "five more minutes" into the back of Stan's hair and tightens his arms hold just a bit. All he wants is just a little bit more sleep, then he'll get up and drive to school. As much as he hates school and would rather just skip today, he doesn't have many skip days left, if any. He'll have to get up eventually.
Stan's expression scrunched up with partial annoyance with Craig, and annoyance with himself for wanting to drop the subject. In fact, he would have if he wasn't boiling alive under his clothes. He felt like he needed a shower an hour ago because of profuse sweating - now he would probably even go for hosing himself down in the yard. He looked down at Craig's hand, and then smiled slightly as he thought of a rather asinine way to get the other to move. Reaching down to pick up Craig's hand, he brought it to his face and then inserted Craig's middle finger into his mouth, running the flat of his tongue along the creases of his finger and then around it as he sucked on it.
Craig's eyes open at the feel of someone sucking on his finger.Sucking on his finger? What the fuck? He can feel Stan's teeth lightly graze his flash as he works the finger, and Craig clears his throat awkwardly.
"Um. I'm awake, you can stop," he says, trying to take his hand away from Stan's face. Really, that's not how he expected to be woken up. Stan is just full of surprises today, isn't he?
As soon as he heard Craig's voice, he pulled Craig's finger out of his mouth and exclaimed, "Jesus fucking Christ, it's about goddamn time." He yanked Craig's arm off of him sharply, and moved off the bed. As soon as he was off and standing up, he yanked off the hoodie and itched his head as he dropped it on Craig's bed, then turned to him as he scowled. "I'm hungry as hell, I was going to bite your finger off if you slept any longer." He fanned himself with his hand, unaware it looked girly as he walked off towards Craig's mini fridge. Pulling it open, he grabbed Stripes carrots and took one out and bit into it.
Craig just watches as Stan all but flings himself from the bed and strips his hoodie off. It can't have been that hot, they didn't even have a blanket. Then again, Craig's been told that he generates a lot of body heat.
He frowns though, when he sees Stan go for his mini fridge. Everything in there, save the occasional soda, is reserved for Stripe. "Hey, fuck, no!" he says, getting out of bed as well and snatching the bag from Stan. "It's too fucking early still for you to start pissing me off; I don't even have the energy to hit you."
He puts the carrots back in the fridge and shoots Stan a half-assed glare. He stands and makes his way to his door. "I'm going to take a goddamn shower. If you want to eat, I guess you can, it's not like I pay for it. Just not Stripe's food," he says, opening his door and starting for the stairs.
He pauses though and thinks for a second. "If you want me to drive you to school you can stick around, just don't fucking break anything." And with that he heads down the stairs.
Returning Craig's glare, Stan stood there as the other lectured him. As soon as Craig disappeared, Stan stubbornly opened the fridge, fished out five carrots and then tossed three into stripes pen, and ate the other two at the same time as he grumbled, "Selfish bastard can't tell me what to do.." Then he grabbed a soda, popped the top and walked downstairs to the fridge to find food. He rummaged for a few minutes and ended up with a mixing bowl of cereal, a banana and picked up a spoon after finding the silverware drawer. He sat down after he poured himself a huge bowl of cheerios, and glared at a wall as he ate. This was going to be awkward- maybe he should just call in sick for a day or something.
Craig only takes maybe 10 minutes in the shower, which is longer than normal. He hates wasting time just standing there; bathrooms aren't his favorite place to hang out. But today he lets the hot water beat down on him while he thinks about what he's going to say to Kenny if he sees them walking into school together. How will Kenny ever believe that Stan just happened to spend the night after Stan asked to try being together and they didn't have sex? Maybe he really should just skip today. One more mark on his record is worth not seeing that hurt look on Kenny's face. He finishes up with his shower and doesn't bother shaving his face or anything. Kenny doesn't mind the stubble, so why should Craig care? It's just one day.
He wraps his towel around his waist and exits the steam-filled bathroom. He passes through the kitchen on his way to his room, considering the stairs are right in the kitchen/dining area, and shoots Stan a glare just because he can. This past day has been way too nice, so he needs some unnecessary glaring to happen. He reaches his room and shuts the door. He starts finding clothes for the day and putting them on.
As soon as Craig appeared, Stan directed his gaze on him- and he quickly noticed the glare. With a frown, he stopped shoveling food in his mouth long enough to flip Craig the bird as the other went to his room. With a scowl, he sipped his soda and then sat playing with the cereal as it floated in his bowl. Attempting to make a smiley face, he failed soon to do so and instead of trying again he pulled out his phone and texted his mom he was going to stay home to catch up on homework because football put him behind.
After he's done getting dressed – in an oh-so-original black t-shirt and blue jeans combo – he heads back down the stairs. He's fucking hungry.
He doesn't say anything to Stan at first, instead goes right to the freezer. He pulls out a box of Eggo waffles and puts two of them in the toaster. While he waits, he leans back on the counter, arms folded loosely over his chest. At this point he finally acknowledges Stan, looking over at him and his pile of food remains. "I'm revoking my offer to take you to school; I decided to skip," he says.
Stan continued to eat like it wasn't a big deal, and after a few minutes his phone lit up. "I'm not going either, I'm sick today." He didn't look at Craig and instead read the back of the soda can like it was more interesting. He vaguely wondered if Craig was going to comment on the spooning, ass grabbing or finger sucking, but he figured he probably wasn't going to mention it.
Craig's waffles pop, and he sticks another two in the toaster before returning the box to the freezer. He retrieves syrup and a plate and other necessities before returning to his spot near the toaster. Normally he'd eat at the table, but something about sitting down and eating breakfast with Stan in way too homey for Craig's liking. No, he'd rather lean on the counter and hold his plate in his hand.
He was going to comment on the fact that Stan is in no way sick and that he should just say he's skipping if he's skipping, but he lets it go. It's not that important to Craig what Stan does, so whatever. He just silently chews his waffles for a bit, until his next two pop as well.
Eventually the near calm air in the kitchen starts to eat away at Craig. Even without sitting at the table, he still feels homey. He tries to think of something to say, something Craig-ish in nature. Eventually he comes up with something.
"So do you sexually advance on everyone you're trying to annoy, or is it just me?"
Yeah, that should be confrontational enough. And it's a good point, too. Stan doesn't want Craig to punch him, so he kisses him. Stan doesn't want Craig to fall asleep so he grabs his ass. Stan wants Craig to wake up, so he sucks on his finger. Who even does that?
When the topic was finally brought up, Stan started playing with the Cheerios again instead of eating them. Now he was trying to spell out 'FU' in the bowl. With a less than enthusiastic response, he said plainly, "No, you're just special I guess." He reached over on the side of the bowl where he had tucked away the banana, and picked it up. "If we hadn't spooned I probably..I don't know." Peeling back the outside of the banana he still didn't look at Craig as he said, "Probably would have gone down on you." With that, he bit the tip off the banana off and then cast a sideways glance at Craig. If Craig was going to be a bitch, he would be too.
Craig's lips twitch into a smirk at Stan's response. Did Stan just make a joke? It's hard for Craig to tell when they're even joking anymore, or when they're being serious. Regardless, his response seems automatic. "It's good to know I have that much power over you. Now I know what to do if I ever want free head," he says.
He watches at Stan continues to eat the banana, noting his slightly vicious biting. Is that supposed to be intimidating or is Stan trying to be ironic? Again, it's getting hard for Craig to tell anymore. Where's the line between the truth and sarcasm going?
Stan bit into the fruit again, and then set it on the table. He really intended to creep out Craig, but he was sort of unnerving himself in the process. "Yeah..guess you do know." It would be hard to decipher whether he was being sarcastic or not, because he had unsettled himself and knocked his confidence a bit. Pushing the bowl back, he debated whether he wanted to go home or harass Craig more.
Craig raises an eyebrow at Stan's sudden change in demeanor. He doesn't say anything about it, because he figures he'd rather not ask, considering what they were talking about beforehand. He doesn't want to know what Stan might have been thinking about.
He finishes eating his waffles and rinses the syrup off his plate before sticking it in the dishwasher. He yawns again, still a little tired, but he knows he shouldn't go back to bed. If he lays down again, he'll never get back up.
He says, "I'm going to go play x-box," before heading for his stairs again. He doesn't care what Stan does; the only thing he really hopes is that Stan puts his dishes away so his mom doesn't get mad, but he knows that's not going to happen. Why would Stan clean up after himself after he's been such a bitch all morning?
Stan ignored Craig's comment, and after awhile he eventually decided that the cheerios were too soggy. With a sigh he picked up the bowl and dumped it in the sink, and then shoved it in the dishwasher along with the spoon. He tossed the banana, and then looked around for the recycling- when he couldn't figure out where it was, he left the can empty on the counter. He walked through the house, and then finally took off his boots by the steps, where he looked at some pictures of Craig as a kid. How hilarious would it be to draw fake mustaches on him in these photos? Stan wasn't that much of a shit though, and finally he walked up the stairs and went in Craig's room. He sat cross legged on the others bed, watching the television.
Craig doesn't acknowledge Stan when he walks in; he was kind of expecting Stan to stay. Not that he wanted Stan to stay, but he didn't think Stan would go home. He continues to play his game, Gears of War, as Stan sits down next to him. He doesn't pay Stan any mind, just keeps playing.
The constant sirens on the game are a bit creepy and unnerving, but it's becoming more annoying than anything. Craig doesn't scare by games easily, so it'll take a lot more than some sirens to freak him out.
A player comes out of nowhere and shoots Craig's guy in the head before he can manage to kill the other guy. Damnit! Craig is actually pretty good at video games – he always beats Clyde – but sometimes he slips up and gets himself killed. He cursed under his breath and waits for his guy to respawn. In the meantime, he finally decides to say something to Stan.
"So do you want to play or are you just going to sit there?" he asks, wondering what Stan is even doing. Why is Stan still there if all he's going to do is watch Craig play shooters…?
"I'll just watch," Stan commented idly, watching the screen with partial interest. Really, he was afraid to leave Craig's house. For some reason he thought the minute he set foot outside Wendy would be watching, even though she was in school. But he was inwardly debating whether he'd tell her where he was. With a glance at Stripe, he then looked back at Craig and then asked, "Why, am I bothering you."
Craig starts into the game again after respawning, intending on hunting down that fucker that killed him and killing him six times. He stalks through the game, picking up various materials.
"No, you're not bothering me. I just don't understand why you're here if all you're going to do is sit next to me," he says honestly. He figures it's not worth lying about or making a sarcastic comment to, so whatever. Plus he's actually kind of curious. Why would Stan want to just sit there?
"Maybe I like watching you." Stan said after a moment, wondering if Craig always sucks this much in video games. It wasn't like he didn't want to play- he just wanted to think about other stuff, and he couldn't focus when he was playing a game. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"Nope," is all Craig says as he finds that other player and destroys him. Okay, revenge is one-sixth complete. Now just to wait for him to respawn so he can stalk him down again. No one kills Craig Tucker and gets off easily.
He kills some other players, while he waits, but they're not quite as fun to track down. This other guy he's started a war with is actually pretty good. He's not really interested in playing, though. There's just not much else to do alone in your own house. Well, Stan is there, but Stan doesn't seem very interested in doing anything.
Stan sat there for a few more minutes before he looked over at his hoodie. He reached over and pulled it towards him, then searched the pocket. Finding his Marlboro cigarettes, he took one out of the carton and then picked his lighter out of the pocket as well. Lighting it up as it was between his lips, he reached down and dug out another cigarette and tossed it at Craig's back.
Craig feels something hit his back but he doesn't pay it any mind, assuming Stan is just being a dick and trying to be annoying somehow. As soon, as he smells smoke though, he frowns and whirls on Stan.
"What the fuck; you can't smoke in here," he says, snatching Stan's cigarette right out of his mouth. He stubs it out on his headboard and turns back to glare at Stan again. "You want my fucking mom to kill me?" he asks, like Stan should have known. He should have known; who actually smokes inside anymore?
He notices the cigarette laying on the bed spread behind him and he calms down the tiniest bit. He pauses his game and stands. "Come on, let's go out back," he says, picking up the offered cigarette. He starts for the door and leads the way outside. Their back porch has a fence around it, so there's no chance of anyone seeing Stan and questioning the situation, so why not?
Instead of freaking out, Stan's eyes widen for a second once his cigarette is taken, and then he rolls his eyes as Craig berated him for smoking indoors. He usually smoked in the basement and then lit a perfumed candle. With a glance at his cigarette remains, he frowns and pulls himself off the bed and stood up, not bothering to fight Craig on it. "Fine," he said, though he left his hoodie on Craig's bed- he only took his lighter and the cigarette package.
Craig walks through his house and out the back door. He exits the house and leans up against the wall near the door. He remembers too late that he didn't grab his hoodie and therefore doesn't have his lighter. He waits for Stan to light his cigarette and then holds out a hand, waiting to be able to use it.
Following Craig outside, Stan lingered by the door for a minute as he took out another cigarette, and then lit it. When Craig's hand suddenly went out, he thought for a moment of saying, 'it's my damn lighter go get your own asshole', but he decided to be nice and slowly placed his Bronco's lighter in Craig's hand. It was one of his more precious items in his life, and if Craig didn't return it immediately, he might just have to kick him square in the balls.
Taking a drag of his cigarette, he walked out a bit on the porch instead of leaning on the wall.
Craig lights his cigarette and holds the lighter back out for Stan to take. He takes in a puff of smoke and tilts his head back to let it out into the air. He'd actually just smoked his last cigarette yesterday, so he's silently grateful that Stan shared, but he doesn't want to say anything. He's had enough reasons to thank and punch Stan lately, and he doesn't really feel like doing either one right now, so he's not going to.
The air is a bit chilly, because of wind, but when he looks up, there's hardly any clouds. A nice May day, if he cares to notice. Nice enough that he doesn't quite care that he forgot his hoodie, anyway.
Turning around to take the lighter, Stan looked at Craig, and then turned back around as he pocketed the lighter in his jeans. He finally broke the silence by saying something.
"So…I talked to my girlfriend about this. She pretty much told me that if we just admit there's something there, we can get over it. It's not what she meant, but really, I think if we just fucked, we'd get over it because it wouldn't be that eventful or great and we'd go back to Wendy and Kenny."
He looked at his cigarette instead of Craig.
"What do you think?"
Craig looks at Stan when he starts to talk, and then just continues to stare once Stan is done. His face is completely blank, for lack of any better expression to wear. Did Stan just… proposition him? Just like that? Out of nowhere?
"So is that way you've been all cuddly-touchy this whole time?" he asks, taking another hit from his cigarette. Maybe that was Stan's reasoning in even coming over at all. Who knows, maybe it was all and act – the whole crying thing – and all Stan really wanted was to get in Craig's pants. He doesn't know, he has no idea how sneaky Stan is.
Or maybe he's just thinking about a spur-of-the-moment question way too much because he doesn't want to say yes.
"What do I think?" he repeats, running over what he wants in his head. In an unnatural spurt of honesty, he says, "I think that I don't care if there's something between us, or even if I want to do it, because I can't do that to Kenny. I promised."
"So you'd rather go every single day wondering what the hell it'd be like, and make Kenny wonder why you keep getting in these situations with me." Stan turned as he spoke, still not making eye contact. Instead he walked over to Craig casually, not saying anything at first - until he finally made eye contact. Then he moved closer, and put his cigarette out inches away from where Craig was leaning against the wall; then he leaned against the wall with either hand on both sides of Craig.
"Don't you fucking get it, Tucker? We're two fucking black holes sitting right next to each other. We're going to keep pulling people into our hellhole every time we're close, and we're going to keep hurting people whether we like it or not. I'm not going to destroy my life with Wendy for you, but goddamnit, if we don't neutralize each other now, we're going to destroy every single thing we find enjoyable in life, including the people we love."
He leaned closer, looking upwards at Craig; his eyes half-lidded and his gaze intense.
"I'm not going to let you destroy my life, you bastard. But if you keep ignoring it, we're both going down."
Craig watches as Stan moves, not really sure what Stan's doing but having an idea. He listens as Stan moves closer, taking in his little speech. When Stan leans in and puts out his cigarette, Craig raises an eyebrow, a little surprised by Stan's boldness. When Stan stops speaking, Craig lets it all sink in, and just stares down at Stan, maintaining their intense eye contact.
"Look who grew some little baby balls," he says, slightly inwardly somehow proud that Stan isn't being as much of a pussy about this as he normally would be. But it makes Craig suspicious. He takes another drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke out in Stan's face before dropping it to the ground and stepping on it.
"Even if I were to agree to this, how could I even trust you? You realize you don't exactly have a good track record going for you, right?" he says, narrowing his eyes down at Stan. It's not angry, more challenging, analytical. How could he trust Stan not to back out again? And what would he tell Kenny?
His eyes narrowed even more when Craig told him he finally had balls, which he really didn't think was necessary and it pissed him off even more. He was already angry because the other kept insisting his way was better; it wouldn't fix anything. Then again, Stan wasn't really sure if his way would either; but he would go down trying to get rid of whatever this was.
When the smoke rippled past his face and against his skin, he blinked passively and kept his gaze set on the other.
"Here's how it goes. Neither of us ever speak a word of this. No one ever knows except for us." He moved closer, as if he were taunting the other; his eyes interlocked with Craig's.
"And I'm not going to back out. Unless you want me to be on top, that is." The comment had just a hint of sarcasm in it, but the seriousness of his expression remained strong.
Craig actually considers this offer now, as he feels his adrenaline start to pick up with the thought. He can't believe he's considering it at all though; a kiss would break Kenny's heart on its own, but Stan and Craig fucking? That would destroy him.
But as Craig is standing there, staring down at Stan, staring up at him, and their bodies are already so close and he can see Stan's chest rising and falling with his breathing and the clouds in Stan's eyes…
Stan isn't kidding.
Stan is actually going to do this if Craig agrees.
…is Craig going to agree?
He stands away from the wall, making sure not to get so close to Stan to knock him backwards, but they're still pretty damn close. He can feel the sparks of electricity practically singing the air, and he knows he's going to agree whether he wants to or not. It's not a choice anymore.
Without saying anything, Craig stoops down and grabs Stan around the waist. He lifts, and actually hauls Stan over his shoulder. He turns and opens the back door, carrying Stan back into his house like a prize in a sack. He carries him all the way up the stairs and kicks the door shut with his foot. He deposits Stan on his bed, none too gracefully but he knows Stan will be okay. He pulls his shirt up over his head and shoots Stan a predatory look as he crawls onto the bed.
"If you want to do this, then let's fucking do this."
For a split second, Stan's anger was fleeting as he felt himself lifted off the ground by Craig. It gave him slight vertigo as he was thrown over the other's shoulder, and carried off like Craig was some sort of pirate collecting booty. …technically…No, he was a bit pissed with the new development, but he was too taken aback by the sudden change that he stayed quiet as Craig carted him upstairs.
When the other tossed him onto the bed, he bounced for a moment before he watched Craig pull off his own shirt. His heart was pounding his chest as he propped himself up on his elbows, still dizzy.
"Wait- what-" Stan began, feeling warm as Craig crept closer - he instinctively moved backwards, though really couldn't go very far considering he was sprawled out on the bed.
"What the hell was that! I have legs! I can walk up stairs, you asshole!"
Craig just smirks, crawling fully over Stan and just looming there, tauntingly. "Quit bitching; you liked it, that's why you didn't fight back," he says. He leans down close to Stan's face, letting his eyes fall half lidded. "Besides, you asked for it."
His weight is in his hands on either side of Stan's head, and his knees are settled between Stan's. He just hovers, oh so close, but not actually touching Stan anywhere. He leans his head down just a bit further, so his lips aren't even an inch away from Stan's. "Are you going to kiss me?" he asks, his voice quiet, but completely filled with something. Something raw.
That's kind of how Craig feels, too. His blood is pumping and his adrenaline is flowing and his skin feels hot. He can feel how much he needs this, now that he's on top of Stan, and he realizes that Stan was probably right. After this, maybe they can go back to normal.
"Wha- No, I didn't because - fu.." Stan stuttered, his confidence shot. Craig was being overwhelmingly dominant, and he was feeling flustered. He couldn't comprehend how he had gone from taunting Craig, to suddenly being topped by Craig. Frustration was building up as he stared at Craig, and he narrowed his eyes as he leaned in closer, their lips almost touching. Electrifying. But instead of responding to Craig's question, he whispered, "Make me, you dick."
Craig's smirk grows a bit with Stan's stuttering. How could Stan ever think he's not a bottom?
At Stan's demand he hums an affirmative before dipping in the rest of the way to connect their mouths. He lets his eyes fall shut and just enjoys the feel of Stan's lips on his. It makes his heart pound, and he's not sure why. It's just a kiss; they've even kissed before now, so why is it so exciting?
He brings a hand down and presses it flat across Stan's abdomen. After a few seconds, he pushes it up a bit and lets it slide under the hem of Stan's shirt. He slowly trails his hand up, letting it make as much skin contact with Stan's stomach as possible on his way.
Feeling Craig's lips press against his, he pressed back forcefully as he moved one arm to reach up and his right hand fell on the crook of Craig's neck, toying with the hair at the curve. He felt Craig's hand slowly trailing upwards against his skin, and it occurred to him his shirt was going upwards with Craig's hand. Was he trying to strip him? What if he didn't want to be stripped right away? His eyes opened as he reached up with his right hand further up the back of Craig's head, and then pulled forcefully as he moved to wrestle Craig off top of him so he could straddle the other.
Craig grunts when he feels Stan tug on his hair, resisting against the pull and making the nerves in his scalp go crazy. He follows Stan's movements, but uses it as more of a guide than Stan's intended pushing. Whatever Stan's doing, it can't be that bad; he's almost positive Stan isn't going to try and leave him again. Almost.
Once he had Craig on his back on the bed, Stan was now straddling his lap. Staring at the other, he narrowed his eyes with a hint of seduction; even though he was truthfully a bit scared Craig would shove him off onto the floor. His hands trailed down to the rim of Craig's jeans, which was dangerously close to his own body - and he unfastened the button and unzipped his jeans.
Craig watches as Stan's hands undo his pants and he doesn't say anything about it. He waits until Stan has his pants completely open and then sits up, disrupting whatever Stan had been trying to do. Though, Craig has his suspicions that Stan is bullshitting and he doesn't actually know what he'd been about to do anyway.
Upon sitting up, He catches hold of Stan's shirt and doesn't give Stan time to protest before it's off of him. He leans forward just a bit, with one hand resting on Stan's hip and the other slowly working on Stan's belt, and moves his mouth next to Stan's ear. "What was that you were saying earlier about going down on me?" he asks, his voice a husky kind of whisper. He continues to undo Stan's belt, and once its open he works on the jeans themselves. He makes sure to only brush the growing bulge there, not wanting to give Stan too much satisfaction just yet.
His face turned a deep shade of red when Craig wrangled his shirt from his chest, and then the other's hands immediately went for his belt no more than thirty seconds later. Again, he found Craig dominating him every time he tried to do something - the other just had to pick up the pace and boss him around in the process. When he feels Craig lean forwards, Stan's eyes went half lidded as he gazed downwards, his face burning with agitation as he tried to form a response that came out not in fragments, but actually be what he was trying to say. Instead he felt Craig's hand brush past his more sensitive area, and instead of forming an actual refusal, it came out as; "I-I don't know how..to do that."
"It's a learning experience," he says, a bit of humor leaking into his voice. He can't help but think it's kind of funny how big Stan talks, and then when it comes down to it, he actually has no idea what he's doing. Then it's not quite as funny because it makes Craig remember that Stan is still a virgin, and he doesn't know how he feels about that. But Stan has to lose it sometime… right? So why does it matter?
He slips his hand into Stan's jeans as he thinks, rubbing against Stan through his boxers. Should he do anything significant because it's Stan's first? Granted, they don't mean a whole lot to each other, but that just kind of seems like common courteously, and as much as people might think otherwise, Craig isn't that much of a dick.
He considers… should he return the favor? It's really not something he offers a lot, and he doesn't really like doing it, but he doesn't think Stan knows that. So would it me like a secret here-you-go kind of thing?
Ugh, he's thinking about this way too much. Just go with it, he tells himself. Do what's in-the-moment. And that's when his eyes snap back into focus on what's in front of him. He looks at Stan's face, and he leans forward on instinct, kissing him hard.
Slightly trembling, Stan tried breathing evenly but it was starting to get erratic. He wasn't aware Craig was thinking at all about anything, because he had his eyes shut and he was trying not to make enough noise to disturb Stripe. He didn't know how awkward it would feel if he could hear a guinea pig squeaking during…this.
When Craig moved in to kiss him, he moved his mouth to return the kiss but found it difficult to even do that.
"Just..stop, stop," He said at first, and then tried to reprieve himself as he said, "..no..don't..goddamnit."
Craig pulls his head back a bit, breaking from the kiss. He pauses his hand in its teasing and stares at Stan for a second. "…what's wrong," he says. It's meant to be a question, but he's not really sure how to handle being told to stop. He supposes he should have seen it coming though, because fucking of course Stan would tell him to stop.
He pulls his hand away from Stan's pants and resists the looks of frustration that threatens to break out on his face. Maybe it isn't even frustration; maybe it's disappointment. Either way Craig refuses to let it show, because if this is just another one of Stan's sick jokes, he's not going to let Stan know that he actually fell for it. Again… Fucking fell for it again.
Stan opened his eyes, at first extremely confused why Craig's hand suddenly was…not there. He looked at Craig with a genuinely perplexed expression on his face, and then he realized what he had done. Was he thinking out loud? His stomach had been doing flip flops, and he really was worried about involuntarily throwing up on Craig if he kept throwing surprises his way. With a frown he said, "What the fuck, don't stop. I said don't stop. Why are you doing this to me?" He asked the questions rapid fire, almost pissed that Craig would just abandon him mid handjob. "You're a fucking bastard."
Craig does allow himself to frown at that, brow furrowing as he a little pissed off himself. "You're the fucking one that said to stop, asshole," he says, now confused. At the same time, he's now aware that Stan hadn't actually wanted him to stop. That means Stan had just gotten a taste of his own fucking medicine.
"Sucks when you get cut off, doesn't it?" he asks, allowing the venom he feels to leak into his voice. But then he thinks, and he has a bit of an idea. He gives Stan a look and doesn't say anything for a second.
"If you want me to keep going you're going to have to fucking participate, too," he says. He's not sure how Stan will take that, but Craig hasn't even been touched yet, and he'd fucking appreciate it right about now.
Stan looked visibly hurt as Craig said he got a taste of his own medicine - it wasn't like he had intended for it to be that. He was having trouble deciding whether he was angry with himself for saying something stupid, or Craig for taking it the wrong way - but after hearing Craig say that Stan hadn't exactly been participating, he glared at him. What? Hadn't been participating?
…oh.
He realized that after Craig threw him off with his series of dominating actions, he hadn't exactly jumped right back in. Maybe it was because he was turned on, or he wasn't thinking clearly. Either way, he was irked with Craig - hadn't he started this whole thing? Hadn't he suggested it in the first place?
With a less then pleased glare, he drifted over towards Craig - putting his hands on the other's shoulders as he shoved him down on his back again forcefully. Face to face with him, his blue eyes focused on Craig's, he moved in closer and ran his tongue on the curve of Craig's neck, and then whispered, "So you want me to bite you?" His lips were extremely close to Craig's skin.
Craig just continues to glare as Stan glares back at him. What the fuck is even going on; are they doing this or not?
Then Stan takes him by his shoulders and pushes him backward onto the bed. Well that certainly wasn't something Craig expected, but it wasn't unpleasant. When Stan licks his neck, Craig all but shivers, just anticipating the bite he knows is coming. Then Stan asks, and Craig can't help the small chuckle that escapes his throat. "Haha, mm, yeah, that'd be nice," he says, almost a mumble.
Bite him, touch him, kiss him, Craig doesn't care, as long as Stan starts doing something. He even brings a hand up and runs it through Stan's hair, encouraging him to do it.
Running the tip of his teeth along Craig's skin, he still hesitated on biting the other. For one, they both had significant others who would notice any new marks- and the idea of Kenny noticing a bite mark on Craig's neck really bothered Stan, considering it happened before. But he was so close to Craig, and he could feel the warmth of the other radiating off onto his skin. Moving his right hand along the other side of Craig's neck, and his left arm helped him keep his balance; he kept his mouth tantalizingly close. He commented quietly, "I can't. Kenny would see it."
Craig has to keep himself from shivering with Stan's teeth running along his skin. Just bite already, goddamnit.
At the mention of Kenny, Craig's heart sinks a bit into his stomach. "Fuck, can you not talk about him? You're going to make me fucking stop," he says, trying to keep his breathing steady. He can still feel Stan's lips lingering, though, just barely not touching his neck, and he just fucking wants it. "And yes you can, just, fuck, just don't bite as hard as you did last time. It doesn't have to leave a mark."
His hands move to hold onto Stan's hips because he needs to be touching something other than air. "Just fucking do it," he says, a bit strained. He can't take suspense; if something is going to happen, it should just happen, he shouldn't have to be teased by it.
Sensing Craig's frustration, the corners of Stan's mouth turned upwards in a coy smile. Really, it was sort of amusing having the other shaken underneath him, especially when he already thought Stan would back out. It made him realize just how much Craig wanted him - no, needed him. Trying not to think in depth of what that might mean, he mused aloud at Craig's statement - "Where would the fun be in that." Then he opened his mouth and bit sharply into the curve of Craig's neck, obviously intending for it to make a significant brand mark of the pattern of his teeth.
Craig catches his breath when Stan's teeth finally sink into his skin. He tries to focus his breathing and tries not to let his back arch, but his toes just end up curling instead. His grip tightens on Stan's hips and he tugs a bit on Stan's opened jeans, inadvertently bringing them down a little.
"Fuck," he murmurs. The pain in his neck is piercing, but it's mixing with something else that he could never describe even if he tried, and it's shooting down his spine in waves. "You should touch me," he says, now even more driven to have it happen than he was before.
After around twenty seconds of digging into the others' skin with his teeth, he slowly moved away- but trailed his teeth over the already sensitive skin as he did so. Looking at Craig with a challenging gaze, he hovered close to the others' lips as he inquired stubbornly, "And what makes you think I'm going to take directions?" Obviously he was trying to get some sort of rise out of Craig - whether it was from anger or in his unfastened pants, one couldn't be too sure.
"You're such a bitch," he says, leaning his head up to catch Stan's lips again. If Stan isn't going to do it on his own, then Craig will just have to help him. Again.
He parts his lips in invitation, and moves his tongue to coax Stan's open as well. He takes the hand that Stan hadn't been using for balance in his own, and slowly starts to move it downward. He does it slow to keep it subtle, so Stan won't jerk his hand away or something. All he wants it to be touched. Or blown, but hey, gotta start small, right? That might not even happen anyway, considering Stan's offer was that they fuck. Doing it all in the same time might be too much for Stan, considering his virgin-ness.
Goddamnit, Craig really needs to stop reminding himself about that.
Stan pressed his lips against Craig's, and then pushed his tongue forcefully into the others' mouth. His tongue explored the back of Craig's front teeth, from canine to canine before he realized his other hand was being abducted and relocated down south. He pulled out from the kiss and stared at Craig a moment, trying to decide whether he was going to allow the other to dictate his movements, or if he was going to carry on with his bitchiness. His hand already was nearing the target however, and he decided to go along with it - his fingers flexing in a slowed stroke over the length of Craig. "…are you trying to get me to…" He stalled, hoping Craig had forgotten the whole blow job thing.
Craig lets Stan's tongue into his mouth, but not without a bit of a fight. Even if he lets Stan control something, he can't let him have all the control. No, that just wouldn't be okay.
Stan pulls away from the kiss, but Craig doesn't have time to care because just seconds later Stan is touching him.
He bites down on his own lip, letting his eyes fall shut and just enjoying the feel of someone else's hand on him. He's not really sure why the fact that it's Stan somehow makes it better, but he tries not to focus on that. He gets distracted from his thoughts anyway when Stan speaks.
"Trying to get you to what?" he asks, though he's not really sure how he even found the words.
Somehow this time - maybe because of Stan's familiarity with Craig's dick - he could actually look the other in the eyes as he caressed him slowly. He was red however with some sort of suppressed shame and embarrassment from having the skin of his hand make intimate contact with the rubbery skin of Craig's man part. With a frustrated tone he said in a slightly broken voice, "Blow job." Somehow he didn't think it would be the best thing for someone with an overactive gag reflex to go down on another.
"Not my call," Craig says, holding himself back from bucking up into Stan's hand. As funny as it would be later, if he made a move like that and Stan wasn't expecting it and fell of the bed or something, it would just piss Craig off right now. "It's all you, bro," he says, trying to get his point across, but not really caring because Stan is touching him now so it doesn't matter anymore. And really, Craig hates giving them enough to understand not wanting to do it, so it's not like he'd force him.
Feeling like he's now being the inactive one, he lifts one of his hands again to slide it back into Stan's pants. This time, though, he reaches past Stan's boxers and actually takes him in his fist. "Though, if your goal was sex, I don't want you to get worn out with just this, so…" he allows himself to trail off as he moves his hand on Stan slowly. He's sure Stan will get the drift of what he was saying. And it's actually a worry Craig is having, too. Stan might play sports, but stamina in bed is a whole other story.
"No, I don't want to-" Stan was going to say, 'give a blow job', but the minute he felt Craig's palm wrap around him his eyes widened. Sure, he had seen it coming, but really, somehow half of the time he thought Craig was going to actually shove him off and tell him he was a bastard - maybe it was some sort of phobia of rejection he had after Wendy dumped him so many times. Even after getting back together, he still was a nervous wreck as to when she would break up with him next, since he never initiated it. Then again, back to the topic of the blow job; he already went down on Wendy so often that he probably could have been considered a lesbian at this point, so what did it matter with Craig…?
"Ah-ahh.." His eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on what he had been saying, but he had completely forgotten, and his own hand had started to clench involuntarily - possibly a little too hard, which he realized after managing to focus. Why was he so - no, he wasn't that into it. This was purely …getting rid of tension. Yeah, he didn't have any feelings for Craig…right?
Glaring at Craig as he decided to increase the friction between Stan's hand and Craig's cock, he said with a fragmented yet sarcastic tone, "You're not saying that I'm quick, are you."
Craig scoffs, somehow finding his sarcasm despite what he's feeling. He opens his eyes to look up at Stan, hopefully to catch his eye as he speaks. "I'm saying I wouldn't know; but if you're going to fucking quit after coming once, then I'm saying we should fucking skip this part." His words are a little frustrated, but his voice is hindered by his harsh breathing.
Stan apparently felt it was necessary to pick up speed, so Craig does too. He tightens his loose fist so that it fits snugly and pumps a little harder. He's not about to be one-uped, in any sense of the word. In fact, Craig is getting a little sick of being the one under Stan. And, now that he thinks about it, Stan bit him pretty damn hard, and there's probably going to be a mark, even if Stan said he didn't want to leave one. Craig'll have to get him back for that one.
If his eyes could shoot daggers at Craig, they would be - was he really insinuating that he would pass out after one go. Seriously? Craig, the one who lazed around gym class, was insinuating he could go longer then Stan, who ran around the football field ten times a day. What. A. Douche.
As if it were some strange form of competing, Craig had started to pump faster, which made Stan's back arch as he tried to contain himself. No, he wasn't going to be shown up, and he wasn't going to let Craig get ahead of him - and he definitely wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of getting him off. Moving his hand quicker, he bent down - carefully doing so as to not make Craig punch him where he didn't want to be as he pumped his fist, he slowed down his hand as he kissed the front of Craig's shoulder, and then dug his teeth into his skin again. At the same time, his hand stroked the other roughly.
Craig bites back a groan when Stan's teeth are in his flesh again and he arches a little off the bed. Okay, yeah, Stan is done being on top now.
He takes the hand that's currently not in Stan's pants and shoves up on Stan's chest. He tumbles them over and gets back on top of Stan, the way he was before. The position doesn't really allow for Stan's arm to reach all the way down to Craig's pants anymore, but that's okay. If Stan is trying to make this a competition, then Craig will make it a fucking competition.
He keeps working his hand in Stan's jeans as he leans forward. The lean in his body pushes Stan's legs out a little more, but he doesn't notice because he has something else in mind. He leans close to Stan's ear and whispers, "If you're so confident, then I'll be sure not to fucking hold back."
He moves down a bit and noses Stan's neck, teasing him. He then latches onto a patch of flesh near the base of Stan's neck. He tries not to use his teeth too much, but he works the flash in his mouth, focusing his energy on leaving a dark purple bruise. He keeps up with his pumping as he releases Stan's skin and moves to another patch to start again.
"Uhg-" Stan growled as the other moved him off top - Tucker just couldn't handle being on bottom, could he? Then again- he flipped Stan pretty easily, and he couldn't avoid the worry he felt as Craig now mounted him. He removed his hand from Craig's pants, though he didn't know exactly what to do with himself as Craig leaned forwards, pushing his legs apart. "Goddamnit, you bastard," He said a little breathlessly as he flushed deep red, averting his eyes with annoyance towards the ceiling. Craig was a goddamn asshole.
He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and he tried to stubbornly ignore how quick he was actually breathing. 'Goddamn Craig' was the only thought that was going through his head before the other's lips touched his neck and began to suck on the sensitive skin, when the words in his head 'goddamn Craig' somehow suddenly had morphed to, 'goddamn Craig, yes'. With a groan he tried to motivate his hand to push Craig off, but found his hands were clenching the sheets on the bed instead on either side; soon he unfortunately lost control over his urges. Releasing himself on Craig's hand, he made a frustrated growl and declared, "Fuck you, Tucker, you fucking, you're a fucking bastard…fuck."
Embarrassment washed over him as he tried to close his eyes and avoid looking at Craig. This was the actual first time Craig had gotten this far, and somehow it was linked to a feeling of defeat for Stan, as they had been battling wills the entire time. He couldn't help but feeling frustration over losing and frustration over someone like Craig winning, especially when his body was the one that decided the victor.
When Craig fells Stan hit his end, he smirks against Stan's neck – which he's left at least three good marks on by this point – and sits up enough to look at Stan's face. His cheeks are flushed with color and his bangs are starting to stick to his forehead. Craig ignores the little flip it makes his stomach do.
"Don't tell me you're finished already… You can go more than once, right?" he asks, his voice scathingly taunting. He's ridiculously satisfied with the fact that Stan came first, meaning that Craig's won this round.
He slowly brings his soiled hand out of Stan's jeans, and for a second he doesn't know what to do with it. He considers wiping it on Stan's pants because that would be funny as fuck, but he eventually decides to just wipe it on his sheets. He's going to have to wash them after this anyway, and he's sure it's not the only time it'll get on his sheets today so why not now.
He leans in to give Stan a victory kiss, even if he expects to be pushed away. Stan is probably pretty pissed off that he lost, so it wouldn't surprise Craig.
His blood boiled as he finally felt Craig move away. His eyes were still closed, and he refused to look at the other. He briefly focused on the sound of Craig wiping his hands on the bed, which only made himself feel more ashamed and defeated. Lying in his back, he thought of what Craig said about going again - of *course* he could, but at this point, he was feeling like murdering the bastard. Whether it was out of passion or just reminiscent of actually wanting to kill Craig, he didn't really know. With a frown, he could feel Craig's presence growing closer, and then he felt a kiss. No. No, he was not going to act like Stan was the woman in the bed, he wasn't going to cry after, and he wasn't going to put up with this.
Opening his eyes, he forced himself in a sitting position, and then shoved Craig with a renewed force towards where the top of the bed was against the wall - hoping the bastard hit it full force. Crawling over, he reached down and pulled his belt from his drooping pants - and then grabbed both of Craig's wrist and effectively immobilized his hands by fastened the belt to the point it locked into another link, acting as large zip tie.
He moved a moment to shed his pants - because they really were about to fall off and he didn't want to trip on them, and after all he still had his boxers on. He climbed onto Craig and grabbed his hair roughly with one hand and shoved his other hand downwards under the rim of Craig's pant line, grabbing him again as he stared him in the eyes with a blank expression on his face.
"You're going to have to fight me to top, you son of a bitch."
Craig takes the shove in stride; even if he hits the wall pretty hard, he saw it coming. It takes him a second to regain focus, though, after being shoved so hard, and by the time he knows what's going on, his hands are bound together.
He raises an eyebrow at Stan, not really upset, but not understanding. He thought Stan liked being restrained, not restraining. It doesn't work both ways, as far as Craig knows. He watches Stan strip his pants and wonders what the fuck Stan is doing. When Stan grabs him again, Craig has to keep from wincing. He's still hard, and it's almost painful, but it feels good to be touched again.
As soon as Stan speaks, he understands what's going on. His smug regrows on his face, and he gives Stan a look. "You're that upset that now you're going to try and top? Please. Even youknow that's not going to happen; you had to tie me up to even get an advantage," he says. It's hard to keep his voice strong when Stan's hand is on his dick, but he manages to do it somehow.
Stan moved his hand rhythmically, his eyes still narrowed as he glowered at Craig's words. There was no words to describe how pissed off he was feeling, and Craig making a speech while he was getting off by Stan's doing wasn't helping either. He moved his hand faster - if that didn't shut the bastard up, then…
Descending on the other as he pulled back his hair again, this time a powerful tug to reveal the other's neck, he moved to bite him, but stopped as he recalled that Craig had probably given him a decent amount of hickeys that he'd have to cover up later. If the bastard wanted to one up him, well he'd just do the same.
Moving downwards, arching his back - he traced with his free hand right below Craig's collar bone. Then he leaned in and bit into him - not a full fledged bite, but a nip - hard enough to make a dent.
Craig resists making any noise as Stan works his hand faster, refusing to give in to it, but when Stan pulls back on Craig's hair, Craig can't stop the groan from escaping his throat. Stan pulls so hard that his head actually bows backward, and Craig has to bite into his lip to keep from doing it again.
When Stan nips at his collar bone, it's about all he can take. He only lasts a few more seconds before he spills in Stan's hand. He sits there for a second, his breathing labored and trying to gather his thoughts. All he can think, though, is that he wants Stan. Now.
He brings his bound hands up and puts them behind Stan's neck. He brings him in close and smashes their mouths together. His tongue forces its way into Stan's mouth and he presses hard into the kiss. He leans forward and backs Stan back onto the bed.
Once he has Stan on the mattress, he rests his weight in his elbows on either side of Stan's head, letting his bound hands lay above it. He presses their bodies close as he continues the kiss, and he loves the feel of Stan's chest pressed up against his own. He moves his one leg to be between Stan's and rubs his thigh against Stan's crotch.
He finally breaks the kiss to speak, but he leaves his lips lingering close to Stan's. He looks Stan in the eye and says, "I'd like to take my pants off now if you'd be so kind as to untie my hands."
Once he felt his hand grow warm and wet, Stan stared at Craig as he breathed heavily. Something about this was satisfying on some level, but he really wasn't sure how - had he wanted this? Why? Gazing at the other as he took his hand out of Craig's pants slowly, he stared at the dense liquid remains on his fingers. He wasn't paying attention when Craig began moving again, and he looked upwards with a slightly startled look on his face as the other grew closer and pressed his lips against his. Returning the kiss, he held his messy hand idly as he felt the other push him back on the bed.
Again, Craig was taking the reigns- Stan connected his gaze with Craig's while they kissed, his confidence faltering as he was lowered backwards. He couldn't really use his hands, so he continued making out- his tongue battling off Craig's as he tried to think of something other then what he was feeling. The sensation of Craig's skin rubbing against his own was setting his body afire. The minute he felt Craig's thigh pressing against him, he breathed in quickly, trying to keep himself from igniting in what he was sure was possible spontaneous combustion from a dangerous mixture of feeling degraded and aroused at the same time.
When the kiss was ended, Stan gazed breathlessly at the other for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted. Realizing Craig's hands were bound, he smiled slightly as he realized Craig couldn't take off his own pants. "I thought with how you talk about it you'd be able to do it with your arms tied behind your back…really." He challenged the other, raising an eyebrow as he moved the hand that was still covered with Craig's earlier accident towards his face, and then he looked at Craig as he licked his hand: never breaking eye contact as he did so.
Craig watches Stan lift his hand, and his eyebrows raise in surprise when Stan actually licks the come off it. "Did you just…?" he starts to ask, actually shocked that Stan did that. But then again, Stan seems to like doing things that art unexpected to try and catch Craig off guard, so Craig should be used to it by now. He shakes the thought and tries to focus on the comment Stan made before doing that.
He narrows his eyes, meeting Stan's daring gaze. "Sure, I could do that, but you'd be in a fuck of a lot of pain. Unless you feel like doing it yourself… But I dunno, I'm not that into watching that kind of thing."
He lets that sink in for a second, letting Stan realize what he means. He continues to stare Stan in the eye as he waits for Stan to react. "So I think we'd both benefit here if you just fucking undid my hands."
Staring at him with a less than amused gaze, Stan debated on whether he should leave Craig tied up just to further his aggravation or actually undo his hands. The curiosity was building as he stared at Craig however, and when the other taunted him, he reached upwards and unfastened the belt in a half-enthusiastic obedience. He pulled the belt off Craig's hands and threw it on the other side of the bed, and then stared back at Craig, his eyes unblinking.
Craig rubs at his wrists once they're freed, them being a little sore from being bound together like that. He sits up a bit and stares down at Stan, trying to decide if this is actually going to happen or not. On one hand, they'd be really cheating; intentional, sober fucking. On the other hand, they've already gone this far… so why not have fun doing it?
He sits back more and removes himself from Stan completely. He makes his way over to his dresser and digs around in the top drawer for a second. When he returns to the bed, he tosses a condom and a little thing of lubricant onto the bed next to Stan.
"Strip," he says, pulling off his own pants. Once he's gotten rid of the rest of his clothing, he crawls back onto the bed, back to his place on top of Stan.
Staring at the other still, Stan tried to thinking that he was actually serious. Somehow, what happened in the locker rooms seemed like a nightmare that didn't actually happen, as he associated it with hunger - so he didn't really believe Craig would go the next step. When the other said strip, he looked down at his boxers, and then reluctantly pulled them down and discarded them. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, yet his expression was blank because he wasn't really sure what he should be feeling right now - or whether Craig would actually do anything. Somehow it still seemed implausible when the other sat on top of him naked.
Craig stares down at Stan, hovering over him. Their bodies are just barely not touching, and Craig isn't sure how he feels about it. He still wants it – a lot more than he thought he would, actually – but now that they've gotten this far it feels… different.
"You're sure you're okay with this, right?" he asks, voice a little quiet. He already knew before that this might be an awkward moment, but he didn't expect it to feel this… what is this? He can feel his heart beating, and his head is swimming in something unknown.
He feels like he really wants to kiss Stan, but it's not a physical desire. He doesn't act on it, because he's afraid of what it might mean if he does, or how it might feel. Really, there's too much feeling going on right now, and Craig just wants it to stop. Can't this just go back to being mindless fucking around? When did it change?
No, it didn't change. That's stupid; this is still just venting. They're just getting it out of their systems.
Usually, Stan would have shot back something dripping with sarcasm, but his mind wasn't stringing together logical thoughts. Instead, he was focused on how far from him Craig was. With a frown, he said rather plainly, "Yeah" to Craig's question - he really couldn't think of a reason to decline the other. Then again, he couldn't imagine how pissed off Craig would be if he backed out suddenly at this point…again.
Craig still hesitates, because he still thinks it might be a bad idea, but he locks eyes with Stan and leans back down for another kiss. He lets his eyes fall half closed, and then shut as he presses into the kiss. He brings a hand up and runs it through Stan's hair, tilting his own head for a better angle. It's slow; completely unlike any of the other kisses they'd had that day, and he's not sure why. It's slow like the one from the other night, in the street.
After what feels like a full minute, Craig starts to feel a chill, so he brings his head away. Okay, maybe he can forget that just happened. Forget it and move on to the next thing.
"Um," he says, trying to think of what to tell Stan. "I'm going to… get you ready now," he finishes, almost awkwardly. He hopes Stan will somehow get his non-existent hint to forget about that kiss and focus on what he's doing instead. He sits up a ways and scans the area of the bed next to scan to find the lubricant, and then reaches for it.
It started to occur to Stan why this was a bad idea. Really, it should have been expected all along, and if he had actually talked to someone else other than his own imagination about it, maybe he would have seen the errors in his planning. But when Craig's lips press up against his, and draws him into a prolonged kiss full of what Stan was sure was emotions; he felt the other's hand through his hair and he was tempted to say something that he really shouldn't when Craig pulled away. He bit his tongue however, and stared at the other with a slightly confused look on his face as Craig decided to move to the next thing. Maybe it was best if they just didn't…think. Or feel, really.
For a brief second, Stan considered telling Craig that he didn't want to do it. Not because it was true; some part of him just felt like being a major asshole to Craig and he knew the first three times Craig had really pissed the other off when he denied him. However, he decided ultimately against saying anything at all because he didn't want to discourage Craig.
Craig picks up the lube and pops open the lid. He squeezes some of it into his hand and coats his three fingers with it. He drops the bottle back on the bed and stares at Stan for a second before quietly saying "Lift your hips," as he guides Stan's hips anyway with his other hand.
He moves his slickened fingers under Stan and then gives him another look. It's supposed to be a somewhat comforting look because he knows that Stan is probably freaking out on the inside, but Craig can't bring himself to make any kind of face other than flat.
"Okay, so this is going to feel really weird, but you just have to trust me and relax, alright? It'll hurt a little, but I'm going to try and make it not. You just really have to remember to stay relaxed, otherwise I can't do anything about it," he explains. He dealt a lot with a freaking-out Tweek back in the day, so he sort of already knows what's going through Stan's head.
He presses a finger against Stan's entrance and waits a second. "Ready?" he asks. He feels a bit uneasy, remembering again that Stan is a virgin, but at least Craig knows what he's doing and he's not going to hurt Stan or something. That would just be bad.
He vaguely wonders how many guys Craig has actually slept with as Craig popped open the bottle of lube. Inside he was a dark hole of nerves, trying to not think too much about the mechanics - but it was too difficult not to, considering Craig was pulling him closer and propping him up. And it wasn't helping he couldn't actually tell what Craig was thinking by reading his expression - what if he hurt him on purpose? It seemed like something the bastard would do. What used to be a blank-slate poker face slowly shifted into a nervous expression, his eyebrows slightly knitting together as he listened to Craig's small pep talk.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better," Stan said sarcastically after Craig asked if he was ready. "Would you like to draw it out too, because that's possibly the unsexiest thing you've done tonight is try to coach me through you sticking your fingers up my ass."
It was actually his nerves speaking, but evidently he was feeling strongly about it either way and was going to bitch at every little thing that made him uncomfortable.
Craig narrows his eyes at Stan's comment. Well, that certainly killed whatever Craig had been feeling uneasy about. Now all he wants to do is shut Stan up; and what better way to do that than by fucking him into the goddamn floor?
"Alright," is all he says, and then he pushes in his first finger. He does it slowly, assuming Stan's never had anything in his ass at all, let alone a finger. He might not feel uneasy about it anymore, but he still doesn't want to hurt Stan and make him want to stop. It slides easily with the aid of the lubricant, and he moves it around a bit to try and start with the preparation.
Normally he'd ask if the person was okay at this point, but Stan is being a bitch, so he's not going to ask. If Stan isn't okay, he'll fucking say it on his own.
He wasn't actually ready at all, so when the first lubricated finger slid past the surface, he involuntarily let out a gasp, but it wasn't exactly the worst pain ever. It did however make him feel incredibly nervous, his eyes averted immediately to the wall so he didn't have to look at Craig's face when he had his …well, up there. He was determined not to react like Craig was doing a good job, simply because he was frustrated that after all of that…he was still on bottom. He definitely had bottom denial.
Feeling that Stan is about ready, he eases in the second finger. His stomach knots, feeling how tight Stan actually is. As much as he'd rather shoot himself than say it out loud, he's really going to enjoy this.
He waits a few seconds, allowing Stan time to adjust, before starting to move his fingers again. He slowly works in a scissoring motion as he eases Stan open.
Again, he feels compelled to ask how Stan is, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes his other hand –using his knee to keep Stan propped up – and wraps it around Stan's dick again to distract him from the intruding fingers. If he can distract Stan's mind, then Stan won't be as focused on the pain of the next step.
Keeping his eyes averted, he felt his breathing go to hell as he tried to concentrate on his goal: not to give Craig any satisfaction. But the other was hitting some sort of treasure chest of nerves, and he was tensing up involuntarily, which made his back arch without his consent. This led to pushing against Craig's fingers, which led to a disgruntled moan as he gripped the bed around him, his eyes closing. The pain, it hurt - but then he felt Craig's other hand, and he whimpered slightly.
Craig bites his lip, watching Stan all but write beneath him. Taking Stan's reactions as a good thing, and not ones of pain, Craig slips in his third and final finger. He wriggles and scissors and crooks them, trying to work Stan as thoroughly as possible. The less it hurt, the less Stan would bitch about it, therefore the more fun Craig will have.
He thinks Stan might be ready, but he keeps at it just in case. Maybe it's because Craig wants to be sure, but then again, maybe it's because Craig wants to tease him. He wants to hear Stan say he wants him; hear Stan tell him to fuck him.
As Craig pressed inside of him, working his fingers in a way he touched every single nerve, Stan was sure of it - he balled up his fists as he failed to not show how much he was enjoying himself. At this point, he was moving at every touch Craig initiated, following the other's movements like a puppet. With a gasp of frustration, he finally managed to get out, "Just- fucking move on!"
With Stan's demand, Craig withdraws his fingers. He's definitely ready to move on by now, he doesn't need to be fucking told twice. He snatches up the condom and, without caring to even use his hand, rips the foil open with his teeth. He slides it on and lubes himself up.
He takes Stan by the hips and hauls him forward, lifting him up properly and positioning himself where he needs to be. His tip presses tauntingly, but he doesn't push inside yet. He really should say something this time, but he doesn't want to ask if Stan is okay. He doesn't really think about it before an automatic response passes his lips, "How much do you want me?"
Well, that's the same as asking if Stan is ready, right? Plus it has the added bonus of probably making Stan blush or stutter, so there's that.
He still feels sexually invigorated even after Craig withdraws his fingers, and even with his eyes closed, he could hear what Craig was doing. His stomach felt like he had swallowed a bed of nails and for the first time, he didn't actually want to run off from the room - even though his face was burning with shame from liking this at all. But god, how much he loved every second of it.
When the other presses against him and then asks him if Stan wanted him, Stan's mouth partially drops open, his brow furrowed as he tried to form a response and finally he growled, "You – fucking - …just fucking do it."
Craig snorts a short laugh at Stan's response, loving how actually desperate it sounded. Stan wants this, and so does Craig. Craig wants it a fucking lot. He might even need it at this point.
He pushes forward, slowly moving past that first ring of muscles, and fuck. Stan is a fucking virgin alright, goddamn.
He focuses all of his energy on going slow, knowing that Stan must be in a lot of pain. He gets about half way, and stops. His breathing is getting heavy, and he knows that if he tries to move any further in, he'll fucking lose it. He bites onto his lip again, trying to restrain himself.
Letting out a shaky gasp, he tensed up the minute Craig entered him. By the time he reaches halfway, Stan is gripping the bed sheets with both hands- he really didn't know what he was feeling anymore, but it was pushing him past the brink of ecstasy. His legs moved towards closing Craig's hips in, squeezing against him with neediness, trying to will Craig to get his shit together. Why was he being so goddamn slow?
When Stan's legs wrap around his waist, he can't take it anymore. He takes it as a sign that Stan is okay, and pushes the rest of the way forward, a little harder.
On instinct, he leans forward and lands a harsh kiss on Stan's mouth. It's not meant to be sweet, or anything at all really, it's just meant to feel.
With the kiss, he pulls back and then pushes back in. He has to pull his mouth away to let out a groan at the tight friction. Okay, he's done being nice now. He needs to fucking go.
He picks up a steady rhythm, not quite too fast because they're only just getting started, and he shifts a few times, trying to fine Stan's hot spot. He listens for the reaction he needs, not being able to see past his clenched-shut eyelids.
Feeling the other inside of him, his body began moving at the same pace of Craig's, and he couldn't handle it when Craig did hit his hot spot. No thoughts were running through his mind, his entire being currently relied only on physical stimulation; and he couldn't do anything but react innately with a cry of pleasure. His neck craned to the side as he tried to regain some sort of control, but he had lost it awhile back, and really at this point he could only feel intensely alive and…happy.
Craig picks up his pace as he starts to lose himself in the sensation of Stan being around him. Their bodies rock together in time, and with the way Stan keeps crying out, it's all becoming just a little too much for Craig to handle. It's just so…good. Too good. Awesome. There's nothing special about it, it's just sex, but for whatever reason, Craig just feels fucking awesome. That's the only word he can even bring himself to think.
"Fuck," he expresses, feeling himself near his end. He holds himself back, though; he always tries to make sure the other person is satisfied before he ends. On that thought, he brings a hand away from Stan's hip and replaces it around Stan's cock, pumping him in time with their thrusts.
"A-ahh," Stan stuttered - the area Craig had grabbed to stimulate had already been hardened by the activity they were engaging in. With a groan he unfortunately made a mess of the both of them as he arched his back - still moving with Craig, yet trembling because he couldn't control anything any longer.
Craig rocks his hips a few more times after he feels Stan release, but then he can't take it anymore and he lets go as well. He rides out his orgasm, before slowing and pulling himself out. Then he all but flops over next to Stan, breathing heavily and enjoying the high feeling that comes after a good lay. He absently removes the condom, ties it off, and tosses it in the general direction of his trash can. If he misses, he can just pick it up later; he doesn't care. What he cares about right now is that he's no longer touching someone, and that's not okay with him.
"Come over here," he says between his almost regular breathing. He opens an arm and motions for Stan to come and lay against him.
"Nnnghhh.." He moaned as the other finally left, and he collapsed on the bed in what felt like a heap of nerves. With his breathing still slightly erratic, his eyes were closed as he tried moving his hand to rest on his glistening chest - he felt so…relieved? But the confusion started settling in even as he felt great, like he had just been given a position on the Broncos or something, and he couldn't figure out why he was feeling this way…near Craig. The good feeling was overwhelming however, and he glanced over at Craig when the other invited him over to him. Almost obediently, he moved over slowly and laid next to the other, but kept his eyes off of Craig. His mind was running amuck already, and he was trying to figure out why this was a bad thing when it felt so good. It was amazing at first how simplified his feelings were; but as time went on, he know he would start over thinking everything that had just happened.
When Stan scooches in, Craig closes his arm around him and pulls him in close against his chest. His breathing is starting to return to normal, and he sighs. It's not a bad sigh, for once, but a content one. As much as he hates Stan, that was actually really fucking sweet. Especially after all that competitive beforehand; somehow that made it… fun. And now he just feels great, with Stan up against him.
…wait. No, why is Craig holding Stan? You don't hold someone after a one-time thing; you just do it and leave each other alone afterward. He starts to feel a little awkward at that realization, but he still doesn't want to let Stan go. He's not sure why, but his body won't push Stan away like it should be doing. …and this is definitely after-sex cuddling. Why did Craig tell Stan to come closer? That might have been a bad move.
Feeling Craig pull him closer, he shut his eyes and tried to think away who he was lying next to. Who he was snuggling up to. Who had just done things that Stan had never experienced or even thought about. For a few minutes he laid there quietly, taking in Craig's scent and idly laying there without thinking about anything in particular. The feeling of moroseness settled in finally, that he had just lost his virginity to Craig Tucker, and now he was enjoying the other's embrace and literally had taken in the other with his five senses full heartedly.
With his eyes closed, he finally muttered quietly, "I love you."
Craig catches his breath when he hears Stan speak. …what? What did Stan just say! His eyes open with his shock, and he's glad that Stan is far enough down his chest that Stan can't see his face, because it's probably contorted with all kinds of confusion and growing anxiety.
He tries to think of something to say, anything, but it feels like several minutes pass before he finally manages to say anything.
"Um… what?"
It comes out a little hard, and he doesn't want to put Stan off because he's enjoying being close, but what? Why would Stan say something like that? He just keeps Stan close, hoping to avoid the awkwardness of the moment by not moving at all.
…did Stan just say he loves Craig?
At first, Stan didn't realize he had uttered anything at all - he thought he was thinking it. But then he realized as the silence returned that he might have actually said it out loud - but he couldn't hear Craig react, so he assumed that the other hadn't heard. Inwardly, a dark part of him still hated Craig - but now it was leaking into a part of him he didn't want Craig to get into, where he actually felt drawn to people and cared for them. But really, had there ever been a line there between those two parts of him at all?
When Craig finally said 'what', Stan frowned as he stayed cuddled to the other, his hand resting on Craig's abdomen. Letting a few minutes pass, he decided that repeating that phrase would make the awkwardness increase, and after all, they both agreed to part ways after this. Even though in that deep dark place, he wanted to say it again in hopes that he never had to leave.
"I hate you."
Craig bites the inside of his cheek, not sure how he feels when Stan talks again. So does Stan love him or hate him? There's a big difference there.
He resists holding Stan tighter, because really, he kind of wants a hug in this moment. He's so incredibly confused, and he doesn't know what to do about it. Normally in a situation like this, he'd just cuddle Stripe and bitch about his problems until Stripe told him the right thing to do. But right now Stan is in his arms, not Stripe, and Stan is the source of his problems, not the solution. So he can't hug him for support.
"…oh," he eventually says, his voice a little quiet. He doesn't say anything else, because somehow he doesn't want to say either of those things back to Stan.
At hearing 'oh', an empty feeling started forming in the center of his chest. Maybe the other thought he heard Stan wrong - which made the feeling more prominent as Stan rubbed his thumb idly against Craig's abdomen, in a calming way. He felt like something was forming in the back of his throat, and he was sure he was going to cry at some point if he didn't move. Why was this so confusing? He loved Wendy, why was Craig doing this to him? That bastard.
Even though he wanted to stay, he finally managed to say, "I'm going to go shower."
Craig loosens his hold on Stan a bit, showing that he wasn't going to force Stan to stay there. He's not really sure how he feels about anything, and now he just kind of feels numb. What the Hell is even going on? What is this sinking feeling?
"Yeah, I'll just… lay here, I guess," he says, not really sure what else to say. His voice is still quiet, and he curses himself internally for it being that way. Why can't he just speak normally?
He'd actually just been about to shower, but Stan beat him to saying it. He supposes he can wait for a shower. He needs a moment to think anyway. Or maybe he needs to not think at all. Thinking might just make things a lot worse.
…why didn't he tell Stan to fuck off as soon as he'd said… that? Why didn't he criticize him for it? …or tell him he doesn't feel the same?
He doesn't. He doesn't feel the same. But… he can't say that out loud. For whatever reason, he doesn't want to crush Stan. At some point during the day, Craig has come to terms with the fact that he might like Stan. So maybe that's why he didn't turn him away.
Slowly moving off of the bed, Stan sat at the edge, slightly slumped over like he was suffering from rejection. He had kind of hoped that Craig would do something like tell him he was an asshole for saying I love you, and then I hate you right after; or at least acknowledge Stan's confusing comments somehow. But how would the other even know the first one was far more true than the second? Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at Craig with a frown, remembering him saying something about disliking being rejected. Was he feeling the same way?
He finally moved backwards, sliding back onto the bed. Crawling back towards Craig, he laid back down next to Craig and then reached out with his left hand to gently move Craig's face towards him so he could look him in the eyes.
"We're going back to Wendy and Kenny…right."
It was almost as if Stan had to reassure himself that their goal was still being sought after by both parties. Somehow, he doubted it even himself, and now was looking for Craig to either rescue the mission or completely abandon it.
Craig just kind of lays there when Stan moves away from him. He kind of feels like curling into a ball, but he doesn't. No, he just lays still, trying to avoid his own thoughts.
When Stan comes back to lay next to him, and even turns Craig's head to force him to look Stan in the eye, Craig doesn't really know what to do. He just wants Stan to go take his shower so Craig can forget he even exists for a few minutes.
He opens his mouth to reply to Stan, but nothing comes out. After a few seconds, he manages to form a complete thought. "…yeah. This was just to release the tension. …wasn't it?"
That last question all but added itself to his sentence, and Craig hates how unsure the whole thing even sounded. Of course he's going back to Kenny. He has to. He wants to.
This thing with Stan… didn't mean anything. It wasn't supposed to.
Staring into Craig's eyes, studying his face, Stan kept his hand hovering for a moment and then put it down on the bed between them. At Craig's question, he averted his eyes for a good minute as he thought. Did he want it to mean more? He found himself realizing the answer was yes, and it was scaring him. Was it possible to love more than one person?
Looking back at Craig, he said simply, "…yeah." But he also kept his eyes locked on the other's, as if he were hoping to spark an argument.
Craig maintains Stan's eye contact and doesn't reply to Stan's agreement. He doesn't say anything for quite a while, because staring at Stan is starting to make him feel uneasy again. He doesn't like this at all. He can't like Stan; not while he's with Kenny, at least. That makes the cheating instantly about ten times worse, and he already feels like shit about it because it's the first time he's ever cheated.
He eventually gets too uncomfortable staring into Stan's eyes like that, but he can't be the one to look away first, so instead he says, "You should go take your shower." He does his best to say it in his normal voice, his flat one, the one without emotion, because this whole thing where Craig is speaking softly isn't okay. Maybe if he speaks normally, things won't feel so weird.
He was sort of taken aback by Craig's sheer refusal to even admit he might want more. Stan didn't look away; that couldn't just be it, could it? They had something amazing, and then they go back to Wendy and Kenny like it didn't matter? He inwardly felt turmoil; it was supposed to suck. It wasn't supposed to go well. Maybe if he had known what was actually involved he wouldn't have thought he would be a bad lay, but it was done now, and he really hated the fact Craig was being obstinate.
Not blinking, he gazed at the other with icy blue eyes and then said rather casually, "And you should take one with me."
Craig raises an eyebrow at Stan's unexpected response. So they're back to challenging dick mode, are they? Well at least the awkward moment is gone. He hopes.
"What," he starts, giving Stan a little smirk to show he's still normal. "Haven't had enough of me yet?" he asks.
After a few seconds, he realizes it's a good thing that they're alone. What with all of Stan's moaning and the fact that they're about to walk through the house and into the bathroom together. "You know, it's a really good thing no one's here right now," he comments, though he's not really sure why he said it out loud. Can't they just skip conversation and get to the shower? …wait, why is Craig eager? No, they can talk as much as they fucking want beforehand.
He sits up, despite his thoughts. He's starting to feel a little gross and sticky, and he really would like to get in the shower. He glances at his sheets, stained, and is a little irritated that he'll have to do the laundry before he's allowed to go to bed for the night.
"No. Not nearly enough," Stan said with a hint of sarcasm, but he stared at the other with an unsettling forward gaze. If Craig wanted to ignore the fact he loved Stan, then Stan would make this day harder than hell to forget. He ignores Craig's remark about the house being empty, and sits up himself and pulled himself off the bed.
Without really so much as casting a sideways glance at Craig, he walked past the bed and out the door to the stairwell, heading towards the bathroom. Once there, he studied the tub for a moment and then turned on the shower head.
Craig just watches Stan go. After a second he heaves a sigh and gets off the bed himself. He checks to see if he made his trash can shot earlier, and somehow he managed to actually do it, so he turns his attention to his sheets instead. He gathers up all his bedding, not really caring to be neat about it because he just wants to throw it in the laundry and get in the shower.
He carries the bedding down the stairs and into the laundry room where he tosses it in, starting the washing machine. He makes his way to the bathroom – somehow having done all that in about a minute's time – and shuts the door behind him.
He looks at Stan and says, "If you weren't serious, then get the fuck out because I'm first."
Stan was standing by the shower, and simply stared at Craig. Instead of actually acknowledging that the other had walked in, he pulled back the curtains and then stepped inside, and then shut them again. If Craig couldn't take a hint, then why should he have to spell it out for him? Why would he have waited, anyways? The water was warm enough now after running a moment, and he let it fall on his face as he wondered if Craig would get pissed off at his 'cold shoulder'. Really, he just wanted the bastard pissed off enough to actually stop being such a bitch.
Taking Stan's silent entry into the shower as a 'no, I'm staying' and not a 'fuck you,' Craig just approaches the shower as well and steps in on the side opposite the shower head.
He stands there for a second, watching the water beat over Stan's skin.
Okay, now he has to admit, even if he couldn't before, Stan looks damn good without his clothes on. And he looks even better standing there in Craig's shower with water running down his body like that. He stares for a couple more seconds, a little mortified with himself for checking Stan out, before he decides to say something.
"Need help?" he asks, moving just a little closer to Stan instead of Standing way back.
Stan heard the shower curtain slide, and then he heard it shut. Really, he wasn't paying attention to Craig - purposely giving him a bit of attitude because he was a little confused as to where they stood, and at the same time, angry at him for making him care about it.
He looked towards the shower shelf, and then picked up the bar of soap there and held it out to Craig. He stared at the other, wondering what he had been doing for the time that he hadn't spoken, but had stood in the shower.
Craig takes the soap from Stan, returning the stare. He starts to lather the bar between his hands, but then he drops it. He actually fucking drops it. He has never in his life dropped soap, and of course the first time it had to happen was in the shower with Stan fucking Marsh. How fucking convenient is that? Maybe he can blow it off as a non-accident. Like he did it on purpose.
…for some reason. Why the Hell would he drop it on purpose? He decides not to think about it, and just looks back up at Stan and says, "Oops." It's his usual monotone voice, kind of sarcastic, so that he's sure it won't actually sound accidental. He doesn't make any moves to pick it up, though, because maybe they won't even need it.
"…oh. My god." Stan mused as he heard the soap plunk against the tub, and he tried not to smile too wide as he thought of the implications of what dropping the soap meant…and then applied those to Tucker. Somehow, it was still amusing. A little less so that he wasn't actually going to get raped, of course, because Stan didn't want that to happen to Craig - but it was still amusing that he did it now, of all times. Did he do it on purpose?
Looking down at the soap, he spotted it near Craig's foot. Then he looked at the other with a blank gaze, and then he bent down. It wasn't as if they were even a foot apart- they were pretty close as it was because of the size of the tub. But when he went down to retrieve the soap, he realized he was almost …eye to thing.
Glancing up at Craig from an angle that was probably a little bit arousing; he slowly lowered himself to his knees and then ran a slippery hand up Craig's thigh, still staring at him with one eyebrow raised as his hand snaked around the other's hip to his ass.
Craig watches Stan descend to the soap, a little surprised that he was actually going to pick it up at all. When Stan pauses, Craig can feel his heart rate pick up a bit. What is Stan doing? Is Stan getting on his knees? He is.
Craig continues to stare down at Stan, loving the way he looks from this angle. He feels Stan's hand sliding easily up his thigh and doesn't even flinch when it lands on his ass. Stan can touch him wherever he fucking pleases if Stan is about to do what Craig is now expecting.
He doesn't say anything, but he's definitely not about to fucking turn it down. He brings a hand up and runs it through Stan's wet hair, encouraging Stan by massaging his fingertips against Stan's scalp lightly.
The corner of his mouth turned upwards in a half smile, but inside he felt nervous and apprehensive about doing what he had intended doing when he got on his knees. He actually considered for a split second getting up and leaving the shower, but the feeling of Craig's fingers on his scalp was an unexpected addition, and he looked at Craig with a dazed look in his eyes. The water was still running down his back and on his hair- now it hit Craig's abdomen, trailing downwards.
Moving his free hand to Craig's hardened part, he ran his fingers delicately underneath, feeling the underside. Hesitantly, he moved closer, putting the flat of his tongue partway underneath and ran it to the tip. Pulling away, he innocently glanced upwards at Craig as if the other would instruct him.
Craig's eyes fall shut and he tries not to react too strongly at the first touch, but he has to bite down a groan when Stan actually licks him. He tightens his hand in Stan's hair a bit on instinct, and waits for Stan to continue.
When Stan doesn't, he opens his eyes again and looks back down at him. When their eyes connect, Craig doesn't even know what to do. Is he supposed to tell Stan what to do or something? Didn't Stan say he didn't know how to do this earlier?
If nothing else, he should warn Stan about his tendency to thrust forward. He'd be pissed if Stan puked on him.
"A word of warning, I'd hold me down if I were you," he says, hoping Stan will catch his drift and hold him against the wall or something. Other than that, he really doesn't have any other advice.
His eyes narrowed when Craig gave him a warning instead of advice. What the hell did that even mean, anyways? He took Craig's warning seriously however, and moved the other against the wall of the shower by placing both hands on either of Craig's hips. It occurred to Stan that he was growing annoyed with the other- it would figure that Craig would be a major ass when he knew Stan was new to everything. Keeping both hands on Craig's hips, he moved to place Craig in his mouth, using his tongue around the head. His eyes were closed now, he really didn't want to keep his eyes open for this.
Craig allows Stan to back him against the wall, considering he's the one that told Stan to do it. He stops himself from saying anything when Stan presses his hands into Craig's hips, but dear God, that's going to make this so much better. He has no idea why his hips are sensitive, but he loves it.
"Fuck," he mutters, clamping his eyes shut when Stan actually takes him in. He moves his other hand to join the first in Stan's hair but does his best to not pull on it. No, he has to remember that Stan is new at this and he wouldn't know what to do if Craig did something like that. Why does Craig have to get all the firsts? He has to be too nice when it's someone's first.
Maneuvering himself back and forth, he pressed his lips down as much as possible without using his teeth. His tongue moved around but he tried to not think what he actually was doing because he didn't want to freak himself out, so it was moving according to what he thought He would like. He pressed his thumbs roughly into Craig's hips as he used him for support.
Craig tightens his grip in Stan's hair when he presses his thumbs into Craig's hips. It's a damn good thing Stan is holding him back, because he has a feeling Stan wouldn't appreciate his bodily reactions very much.
He does his best to keep from making noise, but it's surprisingly hard to do with Stan's mouth on him. His little groans and 'mmm's echo with the tile in the bathroom, and he can't even feel ashamed of it because holy shit. Somehow Stan is good at this, even if he's claiming to not know what he's doing. Maybe he's done it on Wendy or something, and it's like transfer of skills.
No, okay, don't think about Wendy.
After another few hard sucks, he's not sure how much longer he'll last. "I'm…" he tries to say. "I'm gonna come," he manages to warn. He doesn't think Stan will appreciate taking it in the mouth very much.
If he could have said something, Stan would have probably said 'congratulations' sarcastically, but it came out as a hum as he continued to work Craig. He really didn't care what the other did at this point. With his hands, he pushed down on the other's hips to effectively hold him back if he tried doing anything.
Surprised when Stan holds him down harder instead of pulling away, Craig is only able to hold out for another maybe 10 seconds. He shudders with his release and tries to keep his knees from giving out on the porcelain tub floor. After a few shaky seconds, he lets his hands loosen in Stan's hair to give the other an opportunity to stand. Really, he just wants Stan to stand up so Craig can push him against a wall and kiss the fuck out of him, but he's not about to ask for that.
Feeling the other release, Stan simply spit out the aftermath on the bottom of the tub and wiped his mouth awkwardly with his hand. Reaching over, he grabbed the bar of soap and stood to his feet, and picked up Craig's hand and put the soap in it. Staring at him for a moment, he turned and faced the shower head as he ran his hands through his hair, even though his hair was pretty damn wet from having the water run on it the entire time he was down on Craig.
Craig gives a half shocked laugh when all Stan does upon standing is hand him the soap and turn back around. Stan is being such a little bitch. Well, Craig can be a bitch, too.
He lathers his hands with the soap before setting it back on the shower shelf. He steps forward and presses himself against Stan's back, his chin resting on Stan's shoulder and his arms sneaking around Stan's waist. "That's it? You're not even going to kiss me after that?" he asks, letting his soapy hands roam tantalizingly down Stan's abdomen. He rubs small circles with his palms flat, acting like he's merely helping to wash Stan instead of about to molest him.
He turns his face towards Stan's neck and presses his lips against it, letting them linger there in the heat of Stan's jugular vein.
Slightly aroused from the way Craig was rubbing his hands, he cast a downwards glance at Craig's hands and then looked towards the shelf, where the soap was. He picked it up and lathered up his hands, feeling Craig's face nestled into his neck. It felt nice having the other behind him in an awkward standing hug. He applied the suds to his arms and then his chest, working around Craig's embrace - then he moved to wash his lower half, slightly bending down to press against Craig. In actuality, he just wanted to get clean - if Craig wanted to cop some feels in the process, then why not.
What the fuck, why is Stan just blowing him off now? Craig doesn't even say anything when Stan bends forward, resulting in Stan pushing his ass against Craig's groin, because something tells Craig that Stan didn't even do it on purpose.
With a furrowed brow, he keeps his face nestled in the crook of Stan's neck. He starts leaving warm kisses along the column of Stan's neck. Really, he'd like to leave Stan a few more hickies, but he figures he's given Stan enough to need to cover up already.
He moves his hands down more, determined to get Stan to quit ignoring him. Why? He's not sure. But he knows he's not enjoying this cold shoulder. He takes a hold of Stan in both hands, the shaft in one and Stan's balls in the other. He gives Stan a few soft pumps before finally deciding to say something between his neck kisses.
"Even if you're being an insufferable bitch, thank you for the head. It was nice."
Maybe by pretending to be nicer, Stan will quit with this whole I-don't-care-about-anything act.
Stan groaned a bit as the other toyed with him, and he moved to put his hand on Craig's arms. Moving them away gently, with a bit of force so he would let go of him, he grabbed the soap and lathered it up again and replaced it on the shelf. Then he turned and started lathering Craig's chest, and then looked at him in the eyes as he said, "I'm not ignoring you, I'm washing before the damn hot water runs out." He really didn't want to spend the next hour in the shower and end up with a cold one to clean up in because they spent the warm water phase making out.
Craig lets Stan push his hands away and resists the frown that threatens his features. At Stan's comment though, he just scoffs. "What so you can shower before you get made a mess of?" he asks.
He shocks himself a bit at actually having said that out loud. Did he just imply that he and Stan weren't done messing around? He tries to play it off by keeping his face impassive and letting Stan continue to wash him.
This really isn't good, the fact that Craig doesn't want to stop what they've been doing all day. They've opened a worm hole, and now that he's had a taste of Stan, he's going to want to keep coming back. He's pretty sure Stan is feeling the same way, considering what Stan'd said earlier.
…did Stan mean that? Even if he'd repealed the statement a second later? He does his best to not show what he's thinking on his face.
He moves his hands slowly down Craig, caressing every inch of him with the suds as he moved his body closer. When he reached Craig's lower half, he ran his hand down his manhood, and then all the way underneath gently, bending slightly to reach to the other's ass. Then he removed his hand and rubbed Craig's thighs, tracing down to the back of his knees and then his calves. He acted as if he hadn't heard Craig's comment, and he busied himself with circling around the other and then lightly prompting him to step forward into the stream of water as he ran his palms in circles around Craig's shoulders, then down to his lower back and his ass.
Leaving his sudsy hands on the other's ass, he leaned forwards and whispered into Craig's ear, "Ever had sex in the kitchen? Might as well cover the whole house." He was actually joking, but it was fun to get a rise out of the other and gauge his reactions to sexually fueled comments.
Craig doesn't speak anymore as Stan continues to wash him. He's too lost in his own thoughts. He doesn't even question it when he's moved into the stream of water. This let's-have-sex this was already going to mess him up, regardless of whatever else happened, but now this I-love-you thing… Craig doesn't even know what to do.
He's brought out of his thoughts when he hears Stan talk. He thinks about it for a second, considering if he should even say anything. Eventually he decides that no, he shouldn't touch Stan anymore. That would be a terrible idea, and it would only make Craig want to keep doing it.
"As appealing as that might sound," he starts, trying to think of a valid reason to turn Stan down, because why the Hell not do it? "I think Ruby should be coming home from school soon, and I don't want her to walk in on something like that."
His voice is a little empty, but he doesn't really notice because he's still caught up in his thoughts. What the fucking Hell does all of this mean?
"Okay," Stan said as he slipped his hands off of Craig's ass, and then turned the other around so the water rinsed off his back as well - and then rinsed the other's hair, and applied shampoo from the shelf. After he had done Craig's hair, he quickly did his own, which took less than a minute because he really didn't use that much soap.
With that, he climbed out of the shower and opened the cupboards until he found the one with the towels, and grabbed one for him and Craig. Reaching in the shower, he turned off the faucet and shoved a towel roughly at Craig. It wasn't really meant to be done meanly even if it might have come off that way - Stan was starting to grow bitter at the thought that he didn't want to leave Craig's house, because it meant they couldn't do anything anymore. And the thought of him enjoy Craig that much really scared him.
"Do you have clothes I can wear?" He asked, knowing perfectly well that Craig's pants would probably be too long for him, but he really didn't want to wear any clothes they had worn earlier.
Craig just stands there, waiting for Stan to finish washing them. He feels like he's being abnormally quiet, but then again, he normally doesn't talk that much anyway, so maybe he's just lingering in the weirdness of his thoughts. He really doesn't know what to make of any of this; he doesn't know if it's going to be possible to ignore from this point on.
When Stan turns off the water and hands him a towel, he just takes it and begins drying himself off. When he's done, he steps out of the tub and wraps his towel around his waist.
"Yeah," is his only response to Stan's question, because he doesn't really put much though into it. It's just clothes.
He exits the bathroom and remembers that his sheets are in the wash. He goes to transfer them to the dryer and then heads back up to his room. He assumes Stan is following him, so he doesn't look to see.
When he gets up there, he shuffles through his clean clothes to try and find something to wear. He's displeased to find that most of his clothes are in the dirty laundry. He pulls on a pair of night pants, not bothering to put on normal clothes again because it's not like he's going to go anywhere today. He pulls out a pair of sweat pants and tosses them at Stan before continuing his search for tops. He somehow has none left; how the Hell did he fall that behind on laundry?
He doesn't much care that he's shirtless, because he just doesn't, but he figures Stan will want something to wear. He goes over to his dirty laundry basket and rifles through it. Eventually he comes up with a Skillet t-shirt. He holds it out to Stan, saying, "It's not clean, but I only wore it for like three hours one day if you want it."
Wrapping his towel around his waist after he dries his hair, leaving it a spiked mess- Stan walked out after Craig and followed him as he watched the other look through the wash. Lazily trailing after Craig, he stopped when the other started shifting through his clothes, and grabbed the pants and pulled them on when Craig threw them at him. They were dragging a bit on the floor, but he didn't really care - his clothes were normally a bit baggy when he sat at home in them.
He glanced at the t-shirt, and decided to take it. He refrained from smelling it instinctively, as if he were going to decide based on how clean it smelled if he would wear it or not. Right now, if it smelled like Craig, he'd probably put it on anyways. Tugging it over his head, he put the towel over his shoulder and then glanced down at the shirt again, noticing it said Skillet on it.
"The secret side of me, I never let you see - I keep it caged but I can't control it, so stay away from me, the beast is ugly - I feel the rage and I just can't hold it," He sang quietly as he turned to climb onto the bare mattress, and then curled up into a ball as he continued on, now muttering the lyrics. "It's scratchin' on the walls, in the closet in the halls - it comes awake and I can't control it, hidin' under the bed, in my body in my head - why won't somebody come and save me from this - make it end. I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin, I must confess that I feel like a monster.."
Craig turns after Stan takes the shirt and goes to his closet. He pulls down a few extra blankets for them to lay on or under or something. When he hears Stan start to sing again, he can't help but wonder why Stan keeps doing that. It doesn't really bother Craig, but he's never been around someone who just randomly sings just for the Hell of it.
He sets the three blankets on the bed. One was intended for laying on, and the other two… honestly, Craig wants to hold Stan again, but he doesn't want to want to hold Stan. He'd grabbed the third blanket in hopes that Stan would take one and lay on his own instead of under Craig's with him.
He spreads the first one out and lays down on it, leaving enough bunched between him and Stan that Stan could pull it underneath him and lay on it as well. He pulls up one of the blankets and pulls it around his shoulders and closing his eyes with a sigh. Really, he doesn't even know what to do anymore.
He quieted down after awhile, and then glanced over his shoulder at Craig once the other was on the bed. Scooting over to him, he forced himself into a spooning position with Craig, whether the other liked it or not. Letting the silence fall, he heard Stripe shuffling again, and the hum of the air conditioning. Within a few minutes he had fallen asleep.
After five hours had gone by, he woke up by the sound of his phone receiving texts. He got up and looked around, and then found his pants on the other side of the bed. Reaching down and grabbing it, he looekd at the messages he had from Kenny - and then he heard Craig's phone go off as well. Well, damnit.
He crawled over to Craig and shoved him.
"Dude, wake up. Kenny's probably messaging you." He didn't want to tell Craig what he was saying - receiving a text that said 'you can have him' pretty much, he knew what Craig was getting was probably ten times worse.
Craig unfortunately can't say he's upset when Stan spoons up against him. He just wraps his arm around Stan's middle and holds him snug against himself. It hurts, because he wants Stan to stay there. He can't want Stan to stay there. He hates Stan. And he's with Kenny. After Stan leaves today, he can't ever come back.
Letting his somewhat depressing thoughts make him fall sleepy, it doesn't take him long to fall asleep. He just hopes he doesn't get used to falling asleep with Stan in his arms, because he won't be able to do it anymore without Stan there if he does.
He wakes some amount of time later to Stan telling him to get up. He sits up and groans, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. After a moment, he searches for his phone and eventually finds it on the floor next to his bed. Stan was right, he has a message from Kenny.
After thirty minutes of playing texting tag with both Kenny and Kyle, he had a distinct frown on his face as he let out a large sigh. He had been going between rubbing his neck nervously as he waited for responses, angrily typing, sighing, cringing, frowning - looking worried, grumbling cusses, and last but not least, he had rolled his eyes once or twice. Now he took a moment to look up at Craig as he sat on the bed across from him, and wondered what Kenny was telling him. Should he mention that Kyle was going to be with Kenny tonight? Did Kenny threaten to kill himself to Craig, too?
Craig gets progressively more and more worried as Kenny continues to IM him. Kenny is breaking up with him. That's all he can think. And it's making him incredibly fucking upset. He tries to not let it show, but he doesn't know if it's working. He really does like Kenny, a lot, but he's just been so shitty to Kenny. He's actually kind of surprised Kenny didn't try breaking up with him sooner than this…
…and then Kenny starts that he's going to kill himself. Craig had only just recently learned that Kenny dies all the time, but he hasn't ever encountered it personally. Somehow knowing that Kenny will come back after death doesn't make the fact that he's going to die any less scary. It's scaring him. He wants to go over there. He wants to stop Kenny, tell him he's sorry, and make sure he's okay. He doesn't want Kenny to fucking kill himself!
But this point he's visibly shaken. He's frowning and biting his lip, and even trembling a little. He's never had to fear for someone's life before; especially not because of something he'd done. He did this to Kenny. He's the reason Kenny is going to die. He's the cause of all of this, and Kenny is going to die.
Noticing how shaken Craig was, Stan edged over to the other and put his arm around Craig's shoulder as he sat next to him. He rubbed the other's shoulder, trying to coax him back into a better place as he said quietly, "I told Kyle to go over there, don't worry about it. Kyle will stop him from doing something stupid, I know it." With a slight frown, he put his head on Craig's other shoulder, wanting to give the other a bear hug but didn't want to interrupt him if he was trying to text to Kenny still.
Craig actually leans into Stan, not knowing what else to do. He just lets Stan wrap an arm around him and doesn't say anything for a long moment.
Eventually he comes up with something to say. Mainly because he needs to get it out; he can't keep just thinking it anymore. It needs to be said.
"I'm the one doing this to him. He's fucking suicidal because I can't stop thinking about you. Why can't I stop?"
The whole thing is quiet, but that last question is even quieter, and he's not sure if Stan will even be able to hear it. He sinks in on himself a little, bringing his knees up and he falls more into Stan's embrace. Why does everything have to suck so fucking hard?
Moving to sit in a cross-legged position, Stan let Craig fall on him and then moved his other arm to touch Craig's hand. The arm that was wrapped around him first he now moved to run his fingers through Craig's hair, and he frowned as he heard Craig say he couldn't stop thinking about him. It was pretty quiet, and Stan was used to picking up the smallest noises right before he fell asleep; it was a trait that carried on throughout the day unless he was tuning people out on purpose. And right now, he didn't want to tune Craig out. He wanted to hug him as close as possible, knowing how traumatizing it was when Kenny threatened something like that.
"Kyle won't let him do anything.." He tried comforting the other, and then paused, thinking about the last part of the question. "Everything will go back to normal Craig…" But really, would it? He remembered his comment earlier - the bipolar, 'I love you', and then 'I hate you' less than a few minutes after. It wouldn't go back to normal.
"Look…we're ending this now. But if you ever need someone..you know, I can always…" He wanted to say he would always be there, just secretly, so no one would know they still hung out.
"I'm here."
Craig lets Stan shift and settles into Stan's chest. It's not the first time he's ever let someone hold him, but it's definitely not a common occurrence. He doesn't ever let himself get weak enough to need held. And he appreciates the fact that Stan is playing with his hair, because that always makes him feel better. Just like in the locker room.
Craig closes his eyes and huddles into himself more, coming in closer to Stan. He shouldn't. Stan is the last person he should be getting comfort from right now, because Kenny might not be a part of Craig's life anymore. And, as much as Craig hates to admit it, he likes Stan. A lot. And Stan being the only one around after something like this won't make matters any better.
"You know it's not going to stop," is all he says, sounding only about half as broken as he's feeling. He doesn't bother responding to any of the rest of it, because he either doesn't want to talk about it, or doesn't want to talk about it with Stan.
"…what do you mean?" Inside, he knew what it meant - Craig was implying they would never stop testing each other, finding each other to bother one another, and they would never stop wanting to do these things. It meant something that Stan didn't want to acknowledge though, and he had been ignoring it for the most part last night and today, even after what happened.
Petting Craig's hair, he nuzzled the other's head with his nose, tempted to plant a kiss in there. The thought made his stomach churn.
"…maybe it would be better if we just thought…it wouldn't really work, you know. We're always fighting." They weren't now though, but Stan was trying to convince himself and Craig that they wouldn't work out - not convince himself that they would be perfect for one another because they knew how to calm the other one down, and not to mention how to comfort one another. "And we really don't like each other, it's just…we've always hated each other. Really..I don't think I hate you much anymore, I just hate the way you make me feel.."
He paused, realizing he was failing to make this sound like they were going to go back to normal and everything would be okay.
"…goddamnit."
Craig sighs, about ready to just give up on everything and everyone. He doesn't respond to Stan's rambling right away, because it doesn't even makes sense. It actually proves the opposite of the point they're trying to make to themselves.
He doesn't fight it when Stan nuzzles into his head either, because he's past denying that he wants Stan to be close. Well, right now he is. Later, he'll probably go back to hating Stan openly. Just maybe not as much inwardly.
"What am I supposed to do if Kenny kills himself?" he asks quietly, still shaken over the face that he's the cause of it. "What am I supposed to do if he and I are actually over?" he asks as an afterthought. It probably isn't the best thing to be asking Stan, of all people, but he says it anyway.
Even if he and Kenny are over, he wouldn't let himself be with Stan. Besides, Stan would still have Wendy.
"He'll get over it." Stan said, though it wasn't exactly specified which comment he had replied with that answer to. Still resting close to Craig, he stared off with a blank expression on his face. Currently he was lost in the thought what if both of them lost Wendy and Kenny respectively; what would happen then? Would they ever…? No, that wouldn't happen. Stan would probably kill himself before openly admitting he was attached in any way to Craig. The residue from their many fights and arguments still lingered in his conscious and was affecting his judgment.
"He'll be back even if he dies, believe me. But I'm pissed he uses this crap like blackmail..he said every time I got drunk he'd kill himself so I'd quit. So don't be upset Craig, it's just his way of venting. ..and I'm sure you won't break up."
"That's it?" Craig asks, not sure if he's angry or still just incredibly depressed. "He'll get over it?" he asks again, clearly upset. How can it just be that easy? Is that what everyone says when Kenny dies?
He's extremely conflicted at the moment. He wants nothing more than to rip himself away from Stan and punch him in the face for saying he'll get over it. But at the same time, he's even more upset now, and he needs someone to be close even more that he did before. Why the fuck is Stan here of all people? He just makes everything harder.
He doesn't say anything for several minutes, resisting yelling at Stan for saying something so incredibly fucking stupid. Eventually he decides to respond to Stan's later comment. "Heshould break up with me. I'm fucking terrible. I just spent all day fucking around with you, and now I'm supposed to go back to him and pretend it didn't happen. Fuck!"
He doesn't even know what he's saying anymore and he doesn't know what he wants at all. He really needs to just sit alone in a corner and smoke some fucking weed and forget he has problems for an hour. Maybe blast some metal music while he's at it.
Noticing Craig becoming upset, Stan pursed his lips as he tried to think of a better response. Maybe his first one was a bit pissy, because he was indeed pissed at Kenny. But he knew he cared more about Kenny then to say something as harsh as, 'he'll get over it', like death was a cold. Maybe minimizing the severity of death wasn't what Craig needed right now.
He reached up with his head and brushed the hair back on his head, and then planted a kiss on top of Craig's head.
"Sorry," He whispered, and then said, "It's more serious than that, I shouldn't have said it that way..but Kenny comes back. Just…it's upsetting, but..I don't like…"
He put his chin on top of Craig's head. "I don't like hearing you so upset."
Craig narrows his eyes at hearing Stan's last comment. He's getting a little tired of hearing Stan make statements like that, and right now, Craig really can't handle it.
He sits up straighter and turns to look at Stan. They're really close, considering Stan's arm is still around him, but he can't be bothered to care at the moment.
"What exactly do you want from me? What was your goal in getting me to sleep with you? You knew it wouldn't make things go away. So what do you want?"
He's extremely angry, mainly because of his confusion, but also because of his panic over Kenny potentially dying. His words don't quite sound angry though. More like… hurt, almost. Is Stan leading him on on purpose because he knows they'll never be able to actually be together?
Surprised that Craig actually shifted to sitting up, Stan stared at him for a minute. Then he looked down, and started to move backwards to climb off the mattress, but had to stop and pull off a blanket that had wrapped around his foot when he moved.
Growing frustrated with having difficulties trying to remove himself from the situation, he gave up and glared off towards the wall.
"I don't want anything from you." Inwardly, he wondered if all he wanted was Craig himself, but he didn't say it.
"I'm just going to go home, okay."
Craig just stares at Stan for a second as he tries to pull away. After Stan says he's going to go home, Craig just lays back down under his blankets, curling in on himself because he's still hurt. He's hurt about everything.
"Yeah okay, go home, fuck you anyways," he says, tugging his blankets tight over his neck so that he's completely consumed by the blanket. He just wishes he could forget everything. Start over. No relationships, no sexual drama; just him and Clyde and Token, being bros. Things were so much easier back then.
He can feel the lump in the back of his throat, but he refuses to acknowledge that it's there. Kenny might die tonight. And where is Craig? Laying in bed after fucking Kenny's best friend all day.
"Dude..you know what? Fuck you, Craig." Stan scoffed as he pulled the blankets off finally, freeing himself from them. Pushing himself off the bed, he tried to not be bothered by what just happened - going from cuddling to insults never was an easy shift. Slightly shaking, he stood up and leaned down to grab his shirt off the floor, and his phone- and then he circled the bed to grab his pants and underwear.
"Fuck you. You think you're the first one who's made Kenny suicidal? You don't think I give a shit or something? Fuck you. I care about Kenny, and he's done this to me too, I was trying to comfort you. Apparently it's all about fucking you, right Tucker. You're not the only one who fucked up. Sorry for inconveniencing you with giving a shit about your feelings. Not like you ever cared for mine, anyways. I didn't want a goddamn thing from you. I just wanted to be with you. But fuck you."
He turned and started to walk out of the room, his arms full of clothes.
Craig doesn't even move as Stan all but flees from his bed. Yeah, what the fuck ever…
"You don't give a shit about my feelings; otherwise you would have fucking stayed away when I asked. And now look what happened." He pauses, realizing he'd been about to say something he'd probably regret later. No, they don't like each other after today. They're even fighting now. Good.
"You don't want to be with me anyway, you're with Wendy, so stop fucking confusing me."
He realizes that probably wasn't the best thing to say either, and he curses himself silently.
"Just get the fuck out so I can deal with this on my own…" He's really fucking upset, and if Stan is going to be a dick, then he doesn't want him around. Craig's never had to deal with someone killing themselves before, but apparently Stan can't be fucking bothered to remember what it was like the first time. So fuck him.
Stan opened the door after sending one more pointed glare at Craig, but finds the words aren't there. So he slams the door shut, hoping he didn't bother Stripe too much - well, they made more noise earlier in the day and the guinea pig didn't mind, so he doubted a door slamming would.
He left the house with his clothes in his arms, hoping Ruby wouldn't see him fleeing.
Craig curls in on himself even more when the door slams. Well that's fucking great. Now Kenny is breaking up with him and trying to kill himself, and he still doesn't know how he feels about Stan, and the fucker just left him when he was in this much fucking pain. Well fine. Fuck everyone. He'll just lay in his bed and not get back out until all of this fucking shit passes.