06.03.2012 (this log started with Damien, and shifted to Craig, so here's a little bonus interaction from the RP instead of just Stan/Craig~)


Damien Thorne: Stanley.

Stan Marsh: what

Damien Thorne: Your friends seem to think they can threaten me. You should come stay here for the night.

Stan Marsh: ...what

Damien Thorne: Come stay here. So you can see him when he shows up.

Stan Marsh: see who

Damien Thorne: Does it matter?

Stan Marsh: you woke me the fuck up, jfc, yeah I would like to know who's threatening

Damien Thorne: You know what; don't come, I'll just call Craig

Damien Thorne: He'd be better at this, anyway

Stan Marsh: No

Stan Marsh: I'm coming

Stan Marsh: I muted his phone anyways

Damien Thorne: Are you trying to get him in trouble?

Stan Marsh: No.

Stan Marsh: If I'm coming there's no reason he needs to

Damien Thorne: Right, sure

Stan Marsh: do I have a bed there or should I grab a sleeping bag.

Damien Thorne: You can sleep in mine

Stan Marsh: ...no

Damien Thorne: Yes

Stan Marsh: are you sleeping in it too

Damien Thorne: Are you serious?

Stan Marsh: I'm serious

Stan Marsh: Look, I'll sleep on the couch

Damien Thorne: Eh, suit yourself.

Stan Marsh: how long do I have to stay.

Damien Thorne: Hmm, til breakfast

Stan Marsh: Can I leave around 8

Damien Thorne: Sure

Stan Marsh: am I making breakfast?

Damien Thorne: No


Stan Marsh: *phone call

Damien Thorne: -answers- Yes?

Stan Marsh: I hit a deer.

Damien Thorne: And?

Stan Marsh: The truck is flipped. I'm stuck.

Damien Thorne: You're stuck.

Stan Marsh: Yes. I would have called 911, but you would have thought I was skipping out.

Damien Thorne: You are such a fucking moron. I'll come get you.

Stan Marsh: I was texting while driving, I didn't see the goddamn deer.

Damien Thorne: You're still an idiot. Where the fuck are you?

Stan Marsh: Like one of the back roads, I don't fucking remember. I turned and hit the son of a bitch.

Stan Marsh: Probably like three minutes from the apartment complex.

Damien Thorne: Alright. -hangs up-


Damien is a little irritated with the complete idiocy that is Stan Marsh hitting a goddamned deer, but he doesn't let it get to him. No, Damien won't be getting pissed with Stan anymore; that's reserved for someone else, now.

He exits his apartment and makes his way through the streets, looking for Stan's truck along the main road. He finally spots it, completely turned over on the side of the road, surrounded in glass, front end totally smashed in. He approaches and sees Stan inside.

Not caring for anything Stan might have to say, he pushes aside some of the metal and pulls Stan out. He hefts Stan into his arms and begins to carry him back to his apartment.

Not refusing the help, Stan did however look extremely grumpy when Damien held him in his arms. Just when he thought it couldn't get any more awkward, great. The minute the other moved him, he felt the pain from the crash radiating dully, and he was a bit dizzy. The shards of glass from the driver's side window and the front window were embedded in his skin, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding on his leg, but he really didn't want to think about that right now. No, he was not happy, and he would rather glare off to the side, avoiding looking at Damien.

Normally he wouldn't have said anything, but he decided to say something after a minute of walking.

"Sorry. I wouldn't have texted while driving but it was Kenny and we sort of had a fight earlier, so it was important."

"I don't give a fuck," Damien says, really not caring why Stan got in the crash. He just wants to get back to his apartment. He really doesn't take threats seriously, so he's not worried, he still wants Stan in his apartment. What a perfect bargaining piece, just in case. If anyone has any real threats against him, he'll just use Stan as a sort of hostage. He gets back to his apartment and kicks it open, not even having shut the door completely when he left. No one would go in his apartment anyway.

Resuming his sulking, Stan didn't look at Damien and instead stared off to the side. Even when the pain increased, he bit his tongue so he didn't say anything about it. Maybe he should have called Kyle. His cell was in his pocket, so he wondered if he should. Maybe he needed to bring Kyle into this. ...no, he really didn't want to. Kyle never did well with these situations either. Maintaining his silence, he waited for the other to put him down.

Damien kicks his door shut behind him and then all but drops Stan on the couch. He looks down at him for a second, examining the damage, before he walks away. He's thirsty, and he wants some goddamned juice. After a minute in the kitchen he comes back. Wordlessly, he puts his hands on Stan. He works each injured part of him, focusing until he's healed. A few broken ribs; a fracture in his skull, a giant gash on his leg, etc. He also removes all of the glass; it seeming to push itself from his skin as he heals other parts of Stan's body.

When he's finally done, he stands and looks down at Stan again. "Don't get fucking hut again, I might not be as nice next time," he says, in reference to his healing. He really only did it because he doesn't want a broken servant. That, and if anyone shows up tonight, Stan can't already be hurt or he won't be a valuable hostage.

Throughout the whole 'touching everywhere' thing, Stan focused on the ceiling. Every day it amazed him; he didn't think things could get any more awkward for him, and then...low and behold, they did. Like the Antichrist touching him. Everywhere. Well, just the spots where he was injured, but that still covered a lot of area. And perhaps the most awkward part of it was that it felt good. Goddamnit.

Looking towards him after, he frowned at his comment, but said, "I won't." Then he pulled himself up, flexing his hand before he reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone. Dialing the car insurance company, he reported the accident, and then tried to poorly explain why he wasn't at the accident, and where his car was at. They agreed to tow it though, and he said thank you and hung up.

"So do you want me to sleep in your bed," He said rather straightforwardly, not really confident in what he was saying. He didn't want the other pissed off, and if this was some sort of weird demand, then fine, he'd do it to avoid Craig getting hurt.

"Since you offered," he says, cocking his head before starting to walk, to indicate Stan to follow him. He leads the way back to his room and flips on a light. He makes his way over to his dresser, not actually caring if Stan is in the room or not, and changes into night pants and a t-shirt. Once changed he goes to turn of the light, ready to go the fuck to bed already.

Stan followed the other, and looked away towards a wall when he started abruptly changing without any warning. With a frown, he had the moment to look down to his own clothes - torn, bloody. Glancing upwards, he watched the other approach the light, and he said, "Wait..um, can I have clothes, please. I don't think you want me in your bed in this." He motioned downwards at his wrecked outfit.

Damien gives Stan a once over, eyeing his bloodied clothing. Truthfully, he couldn't give less fucks if Stan laid in his bed like that, and he considers telling Stan to just go nude if it bothers him so much. But, again, if need be, Stan can't look hurt. And Stan looks like he's been through Hell.

Ha.

"Take whatever you want," he says, turning to flop down in his bed. He shoves his arms under his pillow, laying on his stomach without bothering with blankets. He always gets too warm, anyway; he's quite hot-blooded. "Just turn of the light before you come to bed."

He purposefully used the term 'come to bed' because he has to make things as awkward for Stan as possible before the night is over. He settles his head comfortably into his pillow before closing his eyes.

Slipping off his shoes, he put them next to the door and then took off his socks. Everything had dried blood on it, and it was disgusting. He walked quietly over to the dresser, and eventually pulled out a black shirt and a black pair of night pants. Pulling off his own shirt and pants, he replaced them with Damien's clothes, even though his eye twitched as he put them on. He could only imagine Craig's face if he told him he wore Damien's clothes. He didn't want to imagine Craig's face if he found he was going to sleep in his bed. In fact, he didn't know what his own face would look like when he had to lay next to Damien.

Pacing back over to the light switch, he turned it off. His heart sunk as he was immersed in darkness, and he couldn't help but stand there for a few minutes, silently wishing he had a heart attack so he wouldn't have to go through with sleeping next to Damien. When it didn't happen, and he felt too much time had passed for it to seem normal, he walked over to the bed and climbed onto the side Damien wasn't. He wasn't using blankets, so Stan didn't bother to pull on them - he was sort of a blanket hog anyways, and he didn't want to piss Damien off unknowingly.

Rolling on his side so he hugged the side of the bed, he stared off until his eyes adjusted. He missed his Craig.

After drifting to sleep, Stan rolled over towards Damien. He was actually searching for blankets, but when he found the other was a suitable heat source, his first sleepy instinct was to cuddle the hell out of whatever was next to him. So he curled up next to Damien, his eyes still closed as he fell into deep sleep.

Damien wakes early in the morning, probably around 5am. He's always an early riser; doesn't sleep much. What he wasn't expecting, though, was to wake to Stan being cuddled into his chest. Well that's… interesting. He just stares for what's probably a full minute, wondering why the fuck Stan is so close to him when he just broke Stan's arm. Snuggling doesn't exactly seem like something one does with someone who threatens their life on a daily basis.

Draping an arm around Stan's shoulders for effect, he says, "Wake up, dumbfuck." Normally he wouldn't care to just get up and leave Stan on his own – there's nothing in his house he's afraid of Stan seeing or anything – but Stan's reaction is just going to be priceless. Especially since Stan did it himself.

Being that it was extremely early, and Stan was exhausted, his brain wasn't quiet awake when Damien demanded it. In fact, he kept his eyes closed, and he couldn't really remember if he heard Craig talk. Did he say dumbfuck? That was sort of rude. Well he was a fuckface.

"Mmmmmm...Craig...sleep." If he had been a little more aware of his surroundings, he would have realized that this wasn't Craig - but he hadn't opened his eyes in hopes he was going to sleep in if he just shut up the offending party. Why was Craig up so goddamn early, anyways? He always bitched at Stan for waking up early, now he was bitching when he woke up early. What a hypocrite.

He moved his arm upwards, finding Damien's shoulder, and then slipped his hand around to rub the back of his neck for a moment and toy gently with his hair; and then his arm went limp again as he went drifting back to sleep.

Damien smirks at the response he receives. He'd been more expecting Stan to flee and shout, but this was interesting too. Stan even played with his hair, aw, how disgustingly adorable. This will be fun.

"You want to sleep more?" he asks, rubbing his hand along Stan's back. He slowly lets it drift downward, toward the small of his back, and then up his side, caressing him. His hand slides back down to Stan's hip, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the waist line of – well – his own pants, that Stan is wearing.

"Because I want you to wake up."

Stan only heard 'wake up' again, and now he felt Craig's hand on his hip. Goddamnit, not only was he up, but he was fucking horny too? Did he take viagra or something before bed? Was he high again?

"Goddamnit Craig, I'll blow you in like three hours, just let me sleep," He said hotly, his voice stern as he kept his eyes shut. He was still optimistic that he would get in another four hours. It was really cruel Craig had gotten him used to sleeping in and now was trying to wake him up, the bastard.

Damien actually laughs at that. "You will?" he asks, his voice full of a high about of humor. His hand is still on Stan's hip, and he presses his fingers in teasing circles, just under the waist band. "I didn't know you liked me that much, but hey, more power to you."

This is just too good. Stan didn't even recognize his voice after the second time he'd spoken, and what's more he'd even gotten angry, still thinking he was Craig. What a fucking kick.

Maybe before the words sounded a bit strange, but Stan could still sleepily pass it as Craig. However, when Damien laughed, he froze, and almost didn't want to open his eyes. At that moment, he realized that he didn't smell Craig, he didn't feel Craig's soft hair, and now, as he opened his eyes - ...that was not fucking Craig.

Staring with a look of sheer horror on his face, his lower lip trembled as he tried to say, "No," but it came out as more of a squeak, and he slowly moved his hand away from Damien's neck. Drawing it back towards himself, his eyes slowly moved to look at the arm Damien was using to touch his hip. His heart had slowed down to the point it hurt because he was so afraid.

Damien watches as Stan slowly opens his eyes, realization washing over him. An overly amused grin spreads across his face as Stan draws his arm back. He wonders exactly what Stan is thinking, or even if it's anything more than 'ohshitohshitohshit.' When Stan squeaks, it's about all Damien can do to not break out laughing again.

"Morning," he says, giving Stan's hip a taunting squeeze before retreating his hand. He sits up and stretches his arms over his head, hearing his back give a satisfying pop. He stands up off of the bed and makes his way over to the door.

"I'm taking a shower. I don't care what you do, but don't leave," he warns.

He breathed in sharply when Damien squeezed his hip, and he was almost delirious with shock. How could he be so stupid? He couldn't remember when he rolled over, or even when the conversation started - he had been drifting in and out, he was so damn tired...but now he could only feel his heart desperately pumping, trying to get back to an even rhythm even though he was terrified.

When the other got up and left the bed, he stayed there, wondering if he meant don't leave the bed. It could have been don't leave the bed, but then again, he said he didn't care what he did. Now confusion replaced his fear, and he wasn't sure what to do. So he just laid there, his hands pulled up to his chest, curled in a half ball.

Damien takes about 20 minutes in the shower before he shuts the water off. He grabs a towel and ruffles his hair, trying to get rid of most of the excess water before wrapping the towel around his waist. He makes his way back into his room, and somehow isn't surprised to see Stan still laying in his bed. Again, he doesn't care, and Stan's back is turned anyway, so he slips his towel off and gets dressed. "You don't have to lay there like that; come watch the news," Damien says blandly, leaving the room again to go sit on his couch.

Once Damien left the room, Stan walked over to his pants and picked them up to fold them. He grabbed his phone, and looked at it. At this hour, who would he call to pick him up who wouldn't freak out? Everyone was on that stupid trip... With a sigh, he picked up his shirt and then walked over and jumped them on top of his shoes, before he walked over to the couch. He didn't sit on it though. Instead, he asked, "May I sit on the couch?"

"Why couldn't you?" Damien asks, glancing up from the television to Stan with a raised eyebrow. He just stares until he sits, and then turns his attention back to the television. He flips through the channels until he hits one that seems good enough for the day. He wants news, but he doesn't always watch the same station. He just wants the information without all the added bullshit, so it depends on the day what he watches. He focuses on the TV for a few minutes before reaching over the side of the couch to grab his laptop. He opens it and types in his password.

Stan was tense for a few minutes after sitting on the edge of the couch, one arm up so he could lean his head against his palm. After a few minutes of news, he was starting to zone out. Around this time, if he wasn't with Craig - which then he would be sleeping - he usually had coffee and was making breakfast or had breakfast made for him. So just sitting down and watching tv droning on was making him doze off.

As soon as he started falling asleep, his eyes shut - he started tilting off the side of the couch he was leaning on. It startled him and he snapped awake, probably jumping a bit as he narrowed his eyes at the tv. Goddamnit, he was too damn tired for the news. He usually read google news, if even that, so he didn't have to listen to poorly delivered information that was probably coated with lies.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, even though he already almost jumped off the edge of the couch, he slouched against the couch and started to doze off again.

Damien flips the channel a few more times after a while passes, trying to find a better station. He looks over at Stan and notices him napping, or, what looks to be napping. He considers waking him up again, just to be a dick, but he has nothing for Stan to be doing, and he's busy, so whatever, let the kid sleep. He just turns his attention back to his computer and tunes his ears to the television.

Around seven forty five, Stan was startled by his phone buzzing. He woke up and looked around for a moment, his eyes narrowed as he realized where he was. With a small sigh, he picked up his phone and checked - Craig. Great, this would be a wonderful conversation. He wasn't going to lie though, he really had no reason to. Sending off a few texts, he fell silent.

As if he knew, Damien shuts his laptop just as there's a knock on the door. He looks up toward the door, and then at Stan. "Get that," he says, drawing his legs up onto the couch to sit in a more comfortable position. He knows that it's Craig with breakfast, but he has no idea what Craig decided to bring. He hopes it's not something shitty, but he never specified what he wanted, so it pisses him off that he can't do anything about it if it's not what he wants.

Still wearing Damien's clothes, Stan lazily pulled himself off the couch and sulked over to the door. He opened it, hoping Craig wasn't too pissed.

As soon as the door opens, and Craig sees Stan, he pulls him into his arms. He lets the McDonald's bag hang from his hand behind Stan as he holds him for a minute before letting go and actually entering the apartment. Actually looking at Stan now, he notices that Stan isn't in his own clothing. That… kind of pisses him off. What kind of things is Damien making Stan do? Not that he wasn't already pissed off. Stan came over here without him, and then got in a fucking accident and didn't even so much as send him a text.

He walks over to the couch and holds out the bag for Damien to take. "I didn't know what you wanted, so I just got a bunch of shit. Enjoy," he says, all as flat as can be. He's resisting sarcasm, and there's no way he's happy to be there, so flat is his default.

Damien takes the bag from Craig and looks inside. He doesn't actually care what's in it, though, because all McDonald's tastes the same. He sets it on the couch next to him and just stares between the two of them for a second. "You can go now," he says dismissively, reaching in the bag and taking out a McGriddle.

"Oh, and Craig," he starts, looking back at him. "Stan owes you a hummer in about.." he pauses to check his phone. "Actually, now. Enjoy the road head; you're welcome."

He turns his attention back to his television and starts into his sandwich, waiting for them to leave.

Hugging Craig tightly, he studies the other's face when he looked at his clothes. He debated with himself whether he would tell Craig about it, but five seconds after Craig handed off the bag of food, he heard Damien comment on what he was thinking about. Instead of responding, he walked into the bedroom, grabbed his dirty clothes and slipped on his bloody shoes, and then went out the door, waiting on the other side for Craig. He really didn't want to be in Damien's apartment anymore.

"He… what? Craig asks, slowly turning his eyes on Stan as Stan walks further back into the apartment. He looks back at Damien with a raised brow, but Damien's already started ignoring them. When Stan walks past again, he follows him out the door. He shuts it behind him and gives Stan a bit of a confused look. "Explanation?" he asks, not sure which emotion should be winning out, or even which one is.

Stan looked at Craig with a frown, hugging his soiled clothes to his chest with one arm as he motioned for them to continue walking. "I don't want to talk when he can hear through the door, let's go to the car." He gave a pleading look to Craig with his eyebrows raised and pressed together, and then turned to walk down the steps and go to the car. There he would actually tell Craig the truth, he thought. There really wasn't any reason not to.

Craig follows Stan and makes it out to his car. He opens his door and slides into the driver's seat, not saying anything. He still doesn't know what to think about any of this, and he doesn't want to talk because he's not sure what he'll say or if he'll mean it. He'll just wait for Stan to say what he needs to say, or rather… what he's going to say.

"After the accident I was pretty fucked up," Stan began, pausing for a minute. How the hell do you describe what Damien did? "He sort of touched me everywhere that I had an injury, and it was like...not in the general area here," He motioned to his groin. "But more like, everywhere else. Uh...Then he told me to sleep in his bed, and he's got a twin, so I just hugged the side when I fell asleep. And when I woke up I really thought it was you next to me, and I was really fucking tired, so I just wanted you to go back to sleep, so I started doing...you know, what I do when I want you to shut up."

Stan hesitated, realizing it sounded pretty mean. With his face turning red, he looked out the window as he said, "You know...Uh, playing with your hair..and offering a blow job..I mean, I'm sorry, I really wouldn't have if I knew where I was, but when I did realize, I thought I was going to die. Seriously. I thought my heart stopped, it hurt really, really bad."

Craig doesn't talk for a minute, not sure exactly what parts he's most pissed about. Fist Stan left without telling him, to see fucking Damien. Then Stan silenced his phone; what if something important happened? Then Stan got in an accident and didn't even text him. Then Damien apparently touched him, a lot. Then they slept in the same bed. And then – ugh what the fuck. Why the fuck does this shit happen?

"You okay?" he finally decides to ask, not wanting to show how pissed off he actually is. He starts the engine and shifts the car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot. He just wants to go the fuck home.

"I'm fine, Craig." Stan assured the other, though he realized he had completely left out the part with Damien carressing him. He knew it mattered, but he had already almost died in one car accident and he didn't want Craig to flip the car out of rage.

"Let's just go home and hide, okay...I don't want to think about this anymore. I need to cuddle something fucking fluffy."

"Yeah," is all Craig says, continuing to drive. Just… the more distance he can put between them and Damien, the better. He really just wants to go home and smoke, but he's only done it that once since Stan told him to stop, and he doesn't think Stan would appreciate him doing it in front of him anyway. So no, he'll just sit in his room and continue to be pissed off. Well, maybe not. Hopefully just laying there with Stan will help, or playing with Stripe or something.

He pulls into his driveway and shuts off the car. He gets out and starts toward his door, waiting for Stan before he actually opens it.

Stan got out, and took his dirty clothes with him, still holding them in his arms. That's when he realized he had walked out with Damien's clothes. "Aw, fuck." Stan said as he looked down, and then sighed as he walked to the front door, stepping inside. Once they both were in he turned to Craig and said, "I'm going to go shower and then put on your clothes, okay?"

He then picked up his shirt, and let it hang down a bit so Craig could see all of the blood on it. Glancing over at Craig, he frowned as he said, "I'm sorry...I would have texted or something, but I didn't...ugh. I..well, you did the same fucking thing, you didn't tell me you were taking him breakfast. But okay, this was worse, considering this looks like I went through a paper shredder." He looked at the shirt again, sort of amazed he lived through something that ruined his clothes.

"And can I throw these out somewhere? I'm not taking them home."

"It's fine, yeah, you can take a shower," he says, still flat. He gives Stan a hug and takes his clothes. "I'll get rid of these," he says starting to walk away. He's just going to go throw them in the garbage can outside if Stan doesn't want them anyway. And really, he'll probably throw Damien's fucking clothes out too, once Stan takes them off. Ugh, why is he so pissed off? Stan even apologized, even though none of this is most likely Stan's fault, so why is he still mad?