100th Review Contest and Prize- Whoever is my hundredth reviewer will get two things: 1) Complete control over a chapter in Automaton. 2) A one-shot of their choice, any pairing. Both will be your ideas, but for number 1, I'd like for you to keep in mind that Automaton has a set schedule or blueprint that I've been going by, so if you ask for anything like sex, blow job, whatever, you name it, then your chapter will not appear until later, but I will still do it! (:

Happy Halloween you guys! I stayed up till midnight to give this to you guys since I wont be home at all (trick-or-treating, bitches) so you guys better be thankful. (:


I miss you ):

I was really pissed off when I woke up to that text message. Kenny's always had an estrange sense of time when it came to getting a hold of me. He'd only ever call when I was in the middle of a movie, only ever text when I was trying to get some sleep, and effectively bother the hell out of me with both of those circumstances.

Like an ogre, because I was grouchy from loss of sleep, I snatched my phone from where it had buzzed against my head just in time to receive another message: I miss you, Butters misses you, we all miss you, so we're on our way to your house right now. I hope the door's open, otherwise Butters is crawling through the window again. In disgust, I turned off my phone and threw it across my room.

I wasn't sure if I actually fell back asleep, or maybe I just started dozing, and it was impossible to tell how much time had passed, but there went the creak in my door whenever someone tried to open it as slowly as possible. Whoever it was didn't turn my lights on, allowing me a few more peaceful moments of dire placidity, although they did crawl onto my bed and scooch up close to my back.

An arm wrapped around my chest, cuddling me against their body. My first thought was the obvious: Kenny. But after comparing the blonde's physique to this one, I didn't think that my assumption was very correct.

"Hey, cutie-pie," they whispered against the shell of my ear. Kenny's inane snicker was heard beyond the quiet voice, further destroying my hopeless guess. If it wasn't the blonde, and I knew it wasn't Clyde or Token, and definitely not Butters- who the hell was sweet talking me in my own bed?

Craning my neck around, I came face to face with Stan Marsh.

"God damn it." I growled, pushing his ugly ass mug away from me. He was laughing as he rolled away, and I was pretty sure he and Kenny high fived each other. "You're not allowed in my house. Get out."

"Why's that, cutie-pie?" Great. The nickname was going to stick.

"Because you're gay for your best friend." I tossed a pillow over my face when the lights came on.

"Come on, Craig." It was Kenny's voice now. "Your sister invited us in so it's time to get up." There was a rustling commotion, like maybe somebody had grabbed my bedsheets.

"Trust me, you don't want to do that," I warned. "Butters will lose all of his innocence. I'm completely naked right now."

"O-oh boy," Butters's stutter came from the doorway. "It's alright, Craig. I-I can cover my eyes."

I guessed that's what he did too, because in the next moment, I had no sheets covering my body. My friends were huge pricks sometimes. And Marsh wasn't even a friend or anything related to that word including: pal, buddy, bro, acquaintance, homie, person of insubstantial importance. He was just there and he fucking sucked and now he's seen me naked.

"Since when do you have fucking dimples on your ass cheeks?" Kenny exclaimed, laughing hysterically at my adorable butt dimples. I didn't even bother saying 'my whole life' because skin indentions didn't just pop up out of nowhere. Unfortunately. If they did I would've kept them a secret from my mom. She's been obsessed with them since I was born and instead of pinching my facial cheeks, she liked to pinch my ass, because 'I just didn't have dimples on my face'. Supposedly it just wasn't as cute. "I'm taking a picture. Don't move."

"Send it to Clyde and tell him I'm waiting."

There was the chirping click from the blonde's phone and then, "Will do, bro. Now put some clothes on before Butters loses control and checks out your dick. I know he wants to."

"K-Kenny!" Butters cried, and as I lugged myself out of bed I saw that he was tucked in the corner of my room with his hands over his eyes. "Oh gosh, Craig. I-I don't know what he's talkin' 'bout."

"It's cool Butters. You can have special permission to look at my dick whenever you want. Maybe we can exchange nudes later," I assured idly, sifting through the clothes in my closet for something to wear. Pulling out a pair of cut offs, I slipped them on, deciding that it was better to go commando today since this particular pair was a bit tighter than my others.

The dainty blonde giggled bashfully, yet he kept his eyes covered in refusal toward my scantily clad offer. Now that I was actually looking at him I noticed that something was slightly askew, but I couldn't pinpoint what exactly that something was. Giving him a once over as I put on a random shirt and jacket, I inspected his slight frame. He was wrapped up in a hooded sweater that was too big, presumably Kenny's, and a scarf that reminded me of Tweek because of the funny, little tendrils of fabric hanging from it's frayed edges. Jeans and boots covered his legs to block out the worst of the snow outside.

None of those were the particular detail that nagged in my storage of memories, though. He'd changed an aspect of himself, yet all of him was the same. Same old sweet Butters, same old feathered mohawk, slightly disarrayed as though he'd been forced to wake up and head out with no warning whatsoever. Which was ironic since I was in the same position, and I was sure that if I looked closely at Marsh, I'd see his hair in the same mussed fashion. I wasn't going to look at him for longer than necessary, though. So I'd just assume we had all been rudely snatched from our beds by Kenny.

"You can look now." Butters dropped his hands, smiling up at me with that pure expression he always had. It made me want to protect him, especially from Kenny. "You look different today." His clear blue eyes brightened considerably, hinting that I was right in thinking something had changed.

"We trimmed up his sides a bit yesterday," Kenny explained. "His mohawk was losing its shape. Actually, it was Tweek who did it."

That clarified everything. The profiles of the small blonde's head were shorn, accentuating the bright tufts of hair protruding in a perfect line down the center of his skull. "Tweek? With a razor? Pics or it didn't happen." I ran my hand through his messy locks, kicking them up until they stood on end. "Looks good," I complimented.

Butters blushed, "Well gee, C-Craig, that's mighty nice coming from you." This kid was just too cute for his own good. It would destroy him when the wrong person got a hold of him and that was a shame. Sometimes the most terrible things happened to the most sensible people. I wondered whether or not Kenny would play the terrible one. Or perhaps- I smirked down at the delicate boy, it would be the other way around.

"Are you going to tell me that I look good, too?" Stan Marsh jeered, half uninterested as the rest of him was occupied by my guinea pig. He knelt before a section of Stripe's cage, watching the furry critter crawl through one of his spiraled tunnels.

I felt an uncharacteristic twang of fury rise from the pit of my stomach that I only ever seemed to get when someone I didn't like tried to fuck with my animal. "No, you're the ugliest piece of shit I've ever seen and I swear to God if you touch Stripe I'll rip your testicles off and sleep with them underneath my pillow every single night for the rest of my life."

"Alright, I get it." Marsh held his hands up in mock surrender, removing himself from my floor. "No need to get pissy."

Kenny threw his arm across his friend's shoulders, reeling him into a protective hold. As though I was a book and he was my foot note, he informed, "Craig's like a crazy boyfriend when it comes to his guinea pig."

"What are you going to do when Stripe finds a girlfriend?"

"Don't use his name so casually, Marsh. You guys aren't friends." The black haired teen held his palms out in disbelief, mumbling 'are you serious?' beneath his breath. "I actually tried to talk Tweek into getting a little girl so that Stripe and her could have babies but he wasn't too keen on the idea."

"Tweek's terrified of animals," Butters stated.

"No shit. I think he threw up a little when I forced him to hold Stripe." Bending over I picked up my phone from its time-out, before motioning for everyone to get the hell out of my room. It was weird having so many people inhabit it at the same time and I was sure it was having isolation withdrawals, much like I did when I was in a large group. "He didn't like it when I said he'd be a grandma, either."

"I wonder why, you asshole." Stan really needed to learn that I didn't give a shit about his opinion.

So I continued to talk as if I hadn't heard him. "I think if I let him be grandpa, though, he'll definitely go for it. So I might do that."

When we reached the downstairs landing, Ruby was practically right there waiting for us, and I didn't really think I wanted to know how long she'd been there because it was kind of creepy. That's what little sisters did when you had attractive friends: They lingered. I fucking hated lingerers.

"Where are you going?" She asked, following us all the way to the front door.

"A brothel." But actually I had no idea where our destination was. Brothel and Kenny just went together, easily making the most sense.

While the other three exited my house, they regarded her much more politely: Butters always one for manners, Kenny always one for making my sister blush because he got a kick out of it, and Stan was just stupid and unimportant and those were his best qualities.

"Where are we going?" My inquiry, identical to Ruby's, humored them.

"Tweek's," Kenny answered, hopping into his truck. It was a beat up contraption with an ugly ass, orange paint job but I guessed that's what you were stuck with when you were poor. All that really mattered was that it fit the blonde's personality and got good mileage.

"I just saw him like, two days ago. And every other day before that," I muttered, crawling into the back seat with Butters.

Kenny responded, "Then you should be uncontrollably happy you finally get to see him again after forty-eight torturous hours of separation."

"Pretty much." My agreement was complete and utter sarcasm. "I just can't live without him. I need my Tweek fix."

"Don't we all?" He winked at me as he turned in his seat to check if the coast was clear. Once he deemed it safe, the blonde backed out of my driveway and started down the street. There was a strange hiccup every time he shifted gears, one that was unusual to the natural hiccups known to stick shifts, as he turned onto the main road.

One of his windows was cracked and the duct tape covering it had withered down to bare, sticky threads, allowing the chilly winter air to leak inside. There was a dent in the roof, and one of the head lights was busted, and I was sure the tags on his license plate had expired. My favorite thing about his truck though, was probably how his heater didn't work. Whenever you turned it on, it blasted frozen air that was colder than the weather.

"So when are you going to let me fix your truck?" Every time I asked this, Kenny liked to divert the question. He was stubborn when it came this piece of shit and I never knew why. It wasn't like he couldn't trust me. I worked on different cars all the time with my dad whenever he got inspired to start a new project.

The reflection of his face in the rear view mirror remained neutral. "Eventually."

"Dude, one of these days you're going to break down and I'm going to drive by and laugh at you. I'll circle around you a few times, too. Just to rub it in."

"M-maybe you should listen to Craig, Kenny. I think he's near f-freezin' back here."

"Yeah, I've got blue balls. Listen to Butters and let me pimp your ride." I was seriously cold, though. That hadn't been sarcasm for once in my life. The skin on my legs felt like it was chaffing they were so icy. I could see my breath inside his truck. Obviously there was an issue here.

"Maybe that's whats wrong. Maybe it's not my truck. Maybe it's you. You're so cold you can't even get a boner." And there was his diversion tactic.

I actually let him have that one, but only because it was plausible. What if my internal temperature was so low that erections just weren't possible? It sounded like it could be a real medical issue.

"Yeah, what's up with that, dude?" Marsh asked, turning around in his seat to consult me. "You seriously never get boners?"

Before I answered that, I teased Butters. "Are you allowed to be hearing this stuff?"

"I think so. I-I'm not too sure, actually. Maybe I should call my dad and ask?" Kenny and the retard sitting next to him laughed at Butters' insecurity.

"I was just fucking with you." Then I shrugged my shoulders in response to Stan's earlier question. "Never's an exaggeration, but it's not like when I get one I'm like 'damn, I should beat this shit'. It's more like 'alright, gunna sleep this one off'. That was an exaggeration, too. You can't sleep a boner off, unfortunately."

The noirette sat back in his seat, almost in a state of awe as he was silent for a moment.

"That sucks, dude," he apologized.

"Not really. It's not like I have anything to jack off to. The most attractive thing in my life is Stripe, and maybe those paper towels with the little puppy imprints, but I don't think I'll be jacking off to either of those anytime soon."

It was a good thing Kenny had stopped for a red light, because right after I said that, he started cracking up. "I love you, Craig. You know that, right?"

"Of course. Now let me fix your truck." He ignored me like usual, and preceded to turn into one of the miniature shopping areas when he had the right of way. It was the tiny district closest to our school that people usually came to when they got out for lunch. There was the Panda Express, a smoothie and yogurt shack, a few other nonessential stores, and Tweak Bros. "I thought you meant his house."

As the blonde found a spot to park, he explained the situation to me. "Tweek's never at his house, dude. He's always here, especially during breaks. Lately he's been with you, though." He spared me another wink before hopping out of his truck. "Isn't it kind of obvious? This place practically is his house."

No, it hadn't been obvious. It was rarely ever that I entered the Tweak's establishment and I didn't remember seeing Tweek inside during any of those times. To be honest, I wasn't even aware of what his parents looked like, though I knew they worked there. I hadn't even thought of it, yet it made perfect sense. Tweek had always specifically requested that I drop him off at his home whenever we did the tutoring ordeal. Maybe this was like his secret hideout, a club made just for himself.

"Does he work here?" I asked.

"Is something wrong with you today?" Kenny came around the front of his truck and clonked me on the head. "You're extra retarded. His parents own the fucking shop." I knew that. Everybody and their mother knew that. "It's more like he interns. His parents are the only ones who actually have a job in the business. It helps a lot because they don't have to pay employees since them and Tweek are the only ones."

"Now that's something that sucks. Never getting a boner, I can deal with that. Doing work for no reason, fuck it. I'd emancipate myself."

"He loves it." That's horrible.

"Sounds kinky."

"He's a coffee machine, dude." The three of us, Kenny, Butters, myself, and the odd man out, Stan Marsh, headed for the coffeehouse. "You know those designs you can make in a cup of coffee with the cream? Like little portraits of flowers and leaves and shit? He does Batman. That's all he ever does: just sits there and does coffee art and tries to find new pictures to paint or whatever the hell it's called."

Kenny stepped forward and grabbed the handle of the quaint, wooden door with the crooked Open sign. The ajar threshold offered an encompassing warmth that practically sucked me in, and I was perfectly fine with that. It smelt like freshly brewed coffee with a spicy undertone, maybe cinnamon or peppermint. I could never figure out what the scent was exactly.

All I ever seemed to know was that I pictured Mrs. Claus' kitchen whenever I happened across the coffee shop. Tweek was her little elf with the button nose and pointed ears. The two ideas fit together fairly well. If only they were true.

The blonde continued speaking, but I couldn't promise that I was listening. All I wanted was to figure out what that secret aroma was. "And when he's bored, he'll just make cup after cup of different coffees. That's why his parents love him working here. He'll dish out a cinna-mocha-frapachino and two grande-expresso-latte-ala'modes in fifteen seconds. Those aren't real names, I just thought of them off the top of my head."

Exactly as Kenny had said, there was only one employee, and if he was correct, that employee was actually just an intern, just the son of the man in charge. He stood behind a counter made of the same rustic wood as the door, wearing a green button up I surely hadn't seen in quite a while. The fabric had weird crinkles like it needed to be ironed, and a few of the buttons were undone- for once not out of place, just out of their buttonholes. Seeing the shirt made my head feel a tad bit lost, as I wasn't wearing my chullo. I didn't even know when the last time I'd worn it had been.

Tweek was living up to Kenny's expectations of him, working the equipment and machinery behind him for the customers waiting in line like that was all he knew how to do. He was like a robot, lost in some kind of mechanical trance, as he pressed buttons and pulled on levers, doing so many numerous things at once it was almost hard to watch. I was never sure which direction he was going to go next—he was dashing back and forth with such a spastic organization—like he knew exactly where to go and when, but anyone who wasn't him had no idea what to expect.

What I thought was the best quality of his working style was that every time he handed a customer their order, he smiled dashingly, and for one heartbeat of a moment, was knocked right out of his robotic stupor, then thrust back into motion almost as if the split second had never happened.

We waited, because I guessed that's what you did when you had a friend that was working while there were customers around, and when the line finally dwindled down and dispersed, did Tweek finally notice us. Surprise ignited his eyes and he looked almost grateful, but I wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he needed a break; the kid hadn't even broken a sweat as far as I could tell.

"Butters!" He pranced around the counter to meet the other blonde's extended arms. They looked like an odd set of twins, all fragile and fair haired and literally gay. It was sort of weird.

"Gee-whilackers! You were kickin' some butt back there!" Tweek scrunched his nose up and laughed at Butters's strangely put compliment before pulling away.

"You missed it. Last night after you went home, Stan wanted to have a g-go at cuttin' my hair, but Kenny was worried he'd shave my entire head." Both of the blondes passed a look toward Marsh, who stood there with his hands raised in mock surrender. I wanted to throw up on those hands.

"He totally would've done it," Tweek warned teasingly.

"Hey, come on now," Stan chastised. "You've been hanging out with Craig too long. You're starting to turn into an asshole. Hang out with me and Kyle from now on. We're the good guys."

Yeah, definitely throwing up on his hands later. It was obvious when Tweek's cheeks pigmented at my name, because nobody but the two of us knew what really happened when you hung out with Craig for too long. I wondered what Kenny was going to think about his blush.

"You sure about that? Last I heard you spit in people's food." Despite his jeer, he stepped into the black haired boy's arms, and wrapped his own around the others waist in a firm hug. So close to Stan, I noticed how obvious their height difference was. Tweek really only reached up to Marsh's shoulder, and I was sure some of that was from his tufts of wild hair. The top of the blonde's head probably aligned perfectly with his collarbone.

Damn, that was like a good foot distance between the two.

"Only to people like Craig," Stan objected.

"And me," Kenny growled, punching his friend in the shoulder with one hand as he tore Tweek away with the other. The blonde laughed, tumbling into the darker blonde's chest. "You're lucky I switched burgers with Cartman, you dick. I'm glad you're a sensible worker, Tweek. You never defile your customer's food or beverages."

"O-of course not! That's fucking unsanitary, dude. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did that. I mean, what if I have type b herpes?" He better not have fucking type b herpes. I kissed that goddamn mouth with my tongue. A lot.

He pulled away from Kenny and stumbled up to me, half tripping over his own feet. I realized now that he had hugged the three, so did that mean he was going to hug me too? We haven't hugged before, and first hugs were always the weirdest.

"H-hey, uhm-" He stopped in front of me like there was something in his way, and looked up at me as though he wanted me to remove the invisible barrier. His cheeks were still dusted pink and the rich green shade of his shirt made the color of his eyes appear rather vibrant. Their deeper hue accentuated the hollow, dark markings circling his eyes. It looked like he was wearing a natural toned eyeshadow, but really they were just permanently there. Funny, he never appeared tired- ever. The delicate, darkened skin beneath his eyes told differently, though.

"We gunna hug it out or...?" I allowed for my question to stray at the end, smirking under the intense awkwardness of our situation. The corners of Tweek's lips pinched like he was trying not to smile. He shook his head in unison with his shrugging his shoulders.

His mouth slipped into a cheeky grin. "Do you know how to hug?" The taunt was duly noted as I stared him down in a silent challenge. "Okay, I take it back!" He surrendered bashfully, letting loose a humble laugh. "Just don't like, crush me or anything." The simple warning stuck in the air, as if I were actually going to strangle him mid-hug. Tentatively, his hands raised.

They trembled, dropping back a cautious inch before lifting higher. This wasn't like how he'd hugged Marsh and I wondered if that was some type of sign or taboo. Did it mean something? When you hugged a person differently than you did another of the same height and stature? Because now he was rolling to the tips of his toes, and one of his feet had stepped over the nonexistent barrier. Both of his arms crisscrossed around my neck, effectively pulling me down until he was satisfied with my butchered height.

My own arms shifted, finding purchase at his dainty hips, and I suddenly knew what he'd meant when he said not to crush him. So I laid my hands gently against his back, wary of their pressure. The tips of his hair rustled against my cheek. He tilted his face into our embrace, causing his locks to sway. I had to avoid them so they wouldn't go up my nose, because that was probably the most sensitive part of me: my damn nostrils.

Clyde liked to try to stick wires and toothpicks up them while I was asleep, forcing me to wake up laughing. Fucking chubby bastard always fucked with me when I had my guard down. Feet and nose were my only weak points.

"This is making me feel awkward just looking at you guys," Kenny joked, or maybe he was being serious. It was most likely the latter as my hugging skills definitely weren't up to par with a regular human being's. "Please stop holding each other. It's extra creepy because Craig's involved." That deserved my middle finger. "You wound me," he admitted in response to the hand gesture.

Embarrassed by Kenny's antic, Tweek quickly dropped away, a pliant whine extracting from his throat as his cheeks grew further rosy. He was strict on his gaze, keeping it focused on anything but me. I made a mental note to never wear a green shirt and blush. The two completely contrasted and made the other more noticeable.

"Yeah, your hug kind of sucked." I agreed, firing two shots by also insulting the delicate blonde.

He huffed, beginning to get that fussy attitude he seemed to love when he was around me, and turned a fragile shade of red. "You're a hulking beast, Craig, so don't even start that with me."

His three friends appeared alarmed at his pissy comeback. For Butters and Marsh it was fine, I thought, their surprised features looked like a regular occurrence. It was Kenny's face that was strangely off. The blonde, who only ever knew everything about everyone- his expression seemed misplaced. His raised brows and crookedly upturned lips were uncharacteristic quirks that I rarely ever saw him wear, especially together.

"Did Tweek just sass Craig?" Stan asked, leaning toward Kenny like a different angle would clarify the scene.

"Yeah, dude. All this time I thought he was a sweetheart."

Tweek didn't like being put on the spot. He clenched his hands together, tugged at his hair, scratched his shoulder then the other, and continued to do all of these little movements as if he suddenly couldn't contain his energy levels. His eyes kept darting toward the counter and the coffee, like if he could just get over there he'd be safe.

I decided to break the tension, just because I've always wanted to do that. "Are you kidding me? This kid bitches at me all the time."

The exact second everyone's eyes turned, Tweek was practically catapulting his slender frame behind the counter, narrowly dodging two coffee pots. I'm pretty sure he apologized to them and wiped them down with a dishrag even though they weren't dirty.

"Oh, really?" Kenny inquired, curiosity aroused. He inclined his head toward Tweek's hiding spot, and the blonde looked dismal as he was once again the center of attention. He tried to shoo us away as we made to inhabit his space once again.

"Dead serious. He's like my PMSing girlfriend." And I was going to be completely truthful: I loved the embarrassed squeal he released in rejection toward that comparison. It fueled the douche bag side of me, which was every side of me. So, just to get my favorite reaction out of the blonde, I leaned my hip against the counter and crossed my arms like I didn't give a fuck as I explained in detail, "If I slip up one time- if I just say one wrong thing, he's pissy for the rest of the night. And then he'll make me take his boots off."

"I don't make you! I ask and you do it! Stop trying to make me look bad, asshole."

I directed my thumb in his ticked off direction. "See what I'm talking about?"

"Gee, Tweek. I-I didn't know you had it in you!" Butters enthused, rubbing his knuckles together in his signature motif.

Tweek grumbled under his breath, toying with the dishrag by swiping down the already clean counter top. "What was that?" I teased, not asking for an answer even though he gave one to me anyways.

"If I'm your PMSing girlfriend then you're my douche bag boyfriend. You never treat me with respect and you don't make me feel pretty," he huffed indignantly, scornfully playing along. I had to ask myself how it was possible that someone could be pissed yet still have the humor to indulge in a game. A game that I was an excellent player at. Clyde had roughed me up for this moment with all of our fake boyfriend moments, it seemed.

"Is that so?" Kenny remarked, looking at me scornfully. "Treat your girlfriend with respect and make him feel pretty, Craig."

Rolling my head back, I wallowed in the few abrasive cracks, before settling my eyes on the pithy blonde below. He was looking up at me expectantly, with an expression on his face like sour milk. Well, he was probably the cutest little sippy cup of sour milk I'd ever seen. He played the unloved girlfriend role pretty well.

So in order to play the douche bag boyfriend part, I sneered in his face, "You look scandalous today. Your smile really speaks to my dick. I think it likes you."

He slapped me in the chest, gawking, flabbergasted at my crude remark. "C-Craig!"

The group around us laughed, so it had to have been expected when I continued, "Your blushing face gives me a bone-" Tweek hauled himself against my side, using my shoulder as leverage to pull himself up and slap a hand across my mouth, blocking any semblance of sound from escaping.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Beyond Stan's shoulder was Thomas, standing idle near the center of the coffeehouse.

I ripped Tweek's cumbersome hand away, as what little strength he held was no match for my power, and said, "Making my girlfriend feel pretty."

"Your girlfriend, huh?" He pondered, stepping forward to give a one handed hug to the boys. "And here I thought that Tweek was mine." In response, Tweek did nothing except merely give his friend a pointed stare. I couldn't help but take notice how he didn't seem to care when he was Thomas's girlfriend, but didn't appreciate it all when he was mine. Maybe my boyfriend skills really did suck, yet here I'd thought they were spectacular. I mean, I'd want to be my girlfriend. That might just be my egotism fogging up reality, though.

"Eh, you can have him. He's a bitch to take care of, constantly needing shit and tampons, and whatnot. Birth control, stupid stuff like that. And he still acts like he's on his period all the time. I really thought I had a keeper, you know? He was all drugged up so I thought he'd be easy. Boy, was that a mistake. I'll tell you what, though: You can even have him for free."

"Did you really have to go on a tangent with that?" Tweek's frustration was apparent, gleaming at me from the corner of his eye as he hugged his friend. It was probably the most natural thing I'd ever seen him do. The action was so simple and he treated it like it was the only human interaction he knew how to do correctly. There was something unfortunate about that thought, but I knew that it was exactly what he believed to be true.

He knew how to kiss though, didn't he? I wouldn't have kissed him so many times if he sucked at it. Damn, I had to find this kid an ego somewhere and fast. It was damaging me just thinking about his self esteem issues.

At least Thomas knew how to have a good time. He found whatever I said to be funny, and that was always cool. I just hoped he wasn't laughing because I was that one teacher or adult who was seriously just not funny, the guy he felt so bad about that he was literally forcing himself to produce even a chuckle. It reassured me that the others were laughing along- but what if that meant I just had a rather serious case of the not-funny? Exaggerated worries, although I wasn't really worried, were reasons why I needed to stop hanging around Tweek.

The golden blonde boy kissed his friend on the cheek before pulling away, causing me to think snidely to myself: yeah, I did that too, a few nights ago. He turned to me and I saw how his neutral toned cardigan matched his moccasins. That sight turned my thoughts into something more like: yeah, he's definitely fucking gay.

"Be careful," Tweek foreshadowed, muttering into Thomas's ear, "Craig likes to crush small, blonde homosexuals when he hugs them."

"Only you, Coffee Bean." I winked as I graciously gave Thomas the same half hug that he'd given the rest. That's when it dawned on me, my one armed act. Did it mean something? When you hugged a person differently than you did another of the same height and stature? If I had done it, then I guessed not.

And here I thought that the blonde had given me special treatment of some sort.

"So what can I get everyone?" Tweek asked, obviously trying his hardest to remain calm under my constant teasing remarks. His cheeks hadn't returned to their normal color since I'd shown up, and I took pride in that.

To help him along on his journey back to a face that didn't blush, everyone ordered something in a strange lingo that I seriously didn't understand. Butters ordered a Vanilla Bean Creme Frappuccino, Stan a Pumpkin Spice Latte, Kenny an Iced Caramel Macchiato, Thomas got a Green Tea Creme Frappuccino, and when it came to me I automatically said, "Coffee tastes like shit, so I'll take whatever isn't nasty."

I decided to take the blame for the mood shift when a sudden tension arose within the group.

Fortunately for Tweek, his face lost all of its color. Unfortunately for me, the blonde was staring at me with a pathetic disguise costuming his features. His eyes were magnified, exerting an emotion like devastation as they grew all glassy, glittering in a light that seemed to come out of nowhere, as though specifically set up just for him. His lips were tugged down in a terrible frown, pouting like they'd been stuck like that all his life. The aura surrounding him completely deflated and even his hair seemed to flatten at their tips, drooping with his mood.

Everything about him was taking a drastic downwards spiral, his limbs, his clothes, and the outer corners of his eyes. His entire physique was just sad. It was like I was watching those commercials with the abused puppies. God, it was worse than that. I was being forced to watch by my eyes stapled open, commercial after commercial of abused and abandoned Stripes.

Not once had I ever fallen for a puppy dog pout, but this- This monstrosity was a Stripey-poo pout. "I'm about to punch you in the face, dude. Stop looking at me like that. You look like my guinea pig during his last vet visit."

"Did Tweek find a weak spot, Craig?" Kenny jeered, the look in his eyes telling me he was doing that weird thing he always did when his brain worked twice as fast to calculate the situations occurring around him. This was his technique he used to figure out the small details that pieced everything about everyone together. It was his extrospective skills that turned him into a human encyclopedia on the habits and behavior of anyone he'd ever managed to come into contact with. He might've been a druggie with no inspiration to lead a wealthy life, but he had a brain that was capable of documenting and evaluating large amounts of information. He was sure to remember every detail, too. Nothing ever got past this guy.

To get him off my case, I agreed nonchalantly as though it didn't matter if I had a weak spot or not. It didn't really, either. Weak spots just made life a little more difficult because they made you susceptible to damage. I could take a little damage, though. No skin off my back. If Kenny found out that Tweek wanted to suck face at every possible chance he got, that would be equivalent to skinning the blonde boy alive. I wasn't too keen on dealing with a skinned gay kid, so until he finally grew some balls, I'd have to play it low-key.

Not that I was ever anything but low-key. It just wasn't fun when you had to be that rather than staying on the down-low just for the hell of it. Tweek sure knew how to fuck with my life. I guess I didn't mind too much, though. He provided good entertainment, which was always lacking when it came to the Tuckers.

Kenny wasn't about to drop the question from his head, but he let it dissipate from the conversation. Tweek shuffled off, mumbling something about getting me a hot chocolate. I liked hot chocolate, but if the little blonde tried to jip me by throwing in an expresso shot, I'd know and I'd make him regret it. Butters asked how much we owed, although his kindness was shot down when he was told that we wouldn't be charged.

"Way to make a profit," I commented.

Under his breath, Thomas said, "Don't second guess him. Tweek likes to give us free stuff because he thinks that's the only way he can pay us back." He was stationed at my side, watching as his friend disappeared in the disguise of a robot.

"For what?" I asked. "We don't do anything for him."

"For being his friend," Kenny answered. It felt like someone had handed me a low blow even though the unintentional attack had been directed toward Tweek.

Even so, I could see the blonde believing that he had to give others stupid things like free drinks and food in return for their friendship. "That's pretty harsh."

He nodded. "Tweek's pretty harsh on himself."