A/N:

:)

"It's this one," Tweek says, gesturing to the small blue car parked closest to the entrance of the steakhouse's parking lot.

Craig gives the vehicle a quick once-over as he shuffles over to the passenger-side door. Tweek drives an old Ford Focus, which is ironic, because if there's one thing Craig is incapable of doing right now, it's focusing. The paint is chipped in a few places and there's a small scratch next to the door handle, but for the most part it's in great condition. With the exception of his Impala obsession, Craig would never call himself a car enthusiast, but he has to admit he's impressed; he's seen enough people his age treat their possessions like shit so it's sort of refreshing to see that Tweek isn't like everyone else that way.

Although, to be fair, Tweek isn't like everyone else in any way, at least not any way that Craig has seen so far, so he shouldn't be surprised. At this point, Jesus Himself could float down from the heavens and inform Craig that Tweek is actually a literal angel who has just been taking a vacation on Earth for a little while, and Craig would fully believe Him without question. Tweek is the most angelic person he's ever seen in his life; he's so nice, and so sweet, with a voice that Craig wishes he had on tape so he could listen to it for hours at a time, and he has that fucking musical laugh, and he can sing and, not only that, he put up with Clyde for a whole semester. That in itself is amazing enough.

Not to mention the fact that, from what Craig remembers from Sunday school as a kid, angels are supposed to be these impossibly beautiful creatures that are a million levels above regular humans. Impossibly beautiful is the perfect way to describe Tweek. That hair that could rival the sun itself with its brightness, those eyes that put every other eye color in the world to shame, those fucking hips that Craig hasn't been able to stop thinking about–

"Sorry."

Craig blinks, stumbling to the side a little bit when Tweek bumps into his arm, the contact sending a tingle right up his spine. "Uh, huh?" He cringes and lifts his hand up to wipe the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his t-shirt. Jesus Christ. Thank God Tweek has his back to him right now, fuck, just the thought of what he might do if he'd caught Craig literally drooling over thoughts of him has Craig wanting to just lay down under the wheels of the Focus and let himself get run the fuck over.

"My remote unlocker is broken." Tweek leans down to unlock the passenger door, his keys jingling as he moves, and Craig tries his hardest not to stare. "I have to make an appointment at the dealership to get a replacement, but they're booked until after Christmas." He straightens up, grabs the handle, and swings the door open, turning and offering Craig a smile. "There you go."

"Thunk- thanks," Craig mumbles, his eyes on some point past Tweek's left shoulder, not daring to make eye contact. "Dealershit- uh, ships- suck."

Tweek laughs as he heads back around to the other side of the car. "I think you had it right the first time."

Okay. So he's fucked up his words and made an idiot of himself twice already in the last two minutes, but Tweek still seems perfectly willing to give him a ride home. There's more proof that Tweek is either an angel, or secretly some kind of assassin who's been sent to kill him and Clyde's going to come back from Christmas break to find himself without a roommate and another half of the room to destroy.

Craig grips the top of the car door with one hand and slowly lowers himself into the vehicle, scrunching his legs as much as he can to fit in the seat comfortably. He's only six feet tall, it's not like his height is anything abnormal, but smaller cars always have a tendency to make him feel like he's some kind of fairytale giant. What was that Roald Dahl book that Tricia was obsessed with in third grade? The BFG, that was it, Craig was like the BFG. Although in his case the F would stand for Fucking, not Friendly. The Big Fucking Giant, that's what he feels like inside this car. He slams the door shut and buckles his seatbelt just as the driver's side door opens.

Tweek slides into the leather seat next to him and starts the car, flipping a few switches on the console as soon as the engine rumbles to life. "Give it a second," he says, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. "The heat takes forever to kick in but I turned you on, so you should feel better right away."

"What?!" Wide-eyed, Craig looks over at Tweek, not sure that he'd heard him properly.

Tweek cocks his head quizzically, waving a hand towards a pair of buttons next to the heating controls. "I said, I turned your seat on. The heated seats always warm up faster than the rest of the car."

"Oh." Craig's pretty sure that he could heat up a whole car lot full of Ford Focuses with how hot his face feels right now.

"You can turn it off if you want to." Tweek shifts the car into reverse and looks over his shoulder, carefully backing out of the parking space. "I should have asked. I just get cold a lot so I always turn it on."

You can always turn me on. Craig's already got his mouth open, the words halfway from his brain to his vocal chords while the part of himself that's still sort of intelligent watches in horror. But before he can actually say those words and earn himself a promotion to Senior Creepy Weirdo, some higher power finally takes pity on him, and in the weirdest miracle since the thing with Clyde and the pigeon, Craig sneezes the loudest sneeze in the known universe instead. He just barely gets his arm in front of his mouth in time, but even muffled, the sound is still nearly deafening in the small space of the car.

"Jesus!" Startled, Tweek jumps, jerking the steering wheel a little to the left for a second. Luckily there are no other cars on the road right now and he manages to right the vehicle with no incident. "Wow. Now that's a sneeze."

"Uh, yeah." Craig makes a face and wipes his arm on his jeans, wincing. "Sorry, I uh, I sneeze like a fuckin' idiot."

"I wouldn't say that." His eyes still on the road, Tweek rummages around beside his seat with one hand, coming up with a small package of tissues from the inside of the driver's-side door. He holds it out to Craig who takes it after a moment of hesitation, being extra careful not to touch any part of Tweek's hand as he does. "You at least sound like you're sneezing. Lola says I sound like a chipmunk."

"Huh." Craig intends to laugh, but instead what comes out of his mouth is some weird kind of grunt. He clears his throat and rests his elbow on the door, propping his head up with his hand as he stares out the window, squeezing the package of tissues tightly with his other hand like a stress ball.

"Um, so, speaking of Lola," Tweek says slowly. "She's part of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Lola?" Craig frowns, feeling a sudden twinge of disappointment. That hadn't been what he'd been expecting when Tweek had asked to talk to him after dinner. Though, honestly, he hadn't really been sure what to expect, so why should he be disappointed? It's not like he'd been thinking that Tweek was going to say that he liked him, for Christ's sake, that was never going to happen, he already knew that. Ignoring the fact that someone as angelic and perfect as Tweek would never want anything to do with someone like Craig, there was still the issue of Tweek probably not even being gay.

Oh, God. What if Tweek wants Craig's help to get Lola for himself? That would be just his luck, wouldn't it, having to play matchmaker for the only person he's ever felt feelings this intense for. Craig shifts in his seat, hanging onto the tissues like his life depends on it, willing his voice to stay casual and not crack when he asks, "What, uh, what about her?"

"Okay, well…" Tweek sighs, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "She's one of my best friends, and um... You know she's dating Stan Marsh."

"I think everyone in the fucking restaurant picked up on that," Craig mutters, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"And, um." There's a little tremor in Tweek's voice now that catches Craig's attention. He looks over and notices that the blonde's hands are shaking a little bit. "And you...dated him?"

"Fuck." Craig definitely hadn't meant to say that out loud, but there it is, the most appropriate response to the question and yet not really the way he'd wanted to have this conversation with Tweek. Not that he'd ever wanted to have this conversation with Tweek. He wanted his past with Stan to be erased from history and as soon as he got his hands on some kind of fucking time machine it would be. "I mean, uh, I guess, for a week, in high school." And all the shit we did a couple of times a week for a few years after that. "Why?"

"Was he…" Tweek pauses, the car slowing down as they approach a yellow light. When it turns red, it's bright enough to illuminate the hood of the Focus a little bit. Tweek turns his head to look at Craig and the worry in those gorgeous green eyes tugs hard at Craig's heartstrings. "Do you think he's a good person?"

Craig's first instinct is to laugh, because the thought of Stan actually being a decent person is so ludicrous it's actually hilarious, but the look on Tweek's face stops him. There's a little more than just worry in his eyes now, there's something else that Craig can't read but that resonates with some part deep inside of him, and it's because of whatever that is that he actually takes a second before he answers.

"No," he says, finally, opting for brutal honesty but trying his hardest to not let his own feelings infect his tone as he speaks. "I've, uh, I've seen him be an asshole too many times." That's an understatement if there ever was one.

Tweek nods, almost imperceptibly. "What did he do to you?" he asks, softly.

That question catches Craig off guard. "What, um, what do you mean?"

The light flashes to green again, but Tweek doesn't make any move to keep going. The street around them is still completely empty, the sky nearly black above them even though it's not even eight o'clock yet.

"You don't seem comfortable around him." Tweek drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to– I just noticed, back at the restaurant, and I just… Is he the reason you left?"

"Uh…" Craig doesn't have any idea how to answer the question. What is he supposed to say? Sure, Stan had been part of the reason he'd needed to get the hell out of the restaurant, but the other part was Tweek himself and there was no way he was going to tell him that. But even if he lied and said that Stan was the entire reason, he couldn't exactly tell Tweek why. What would he even say? "Yeah, I had to leave because I couldn't handle sitting across from him while he practically fucked his girlfriend on the table in front of everyone while playing fucking footsie with me under the fucking table the entire time because fucking with me is one of his favorite fucking things."

"You don't have to answer that," Tweek says after a moment of awkward silence. He pulls the car forward, turning his head to refocus on the road ahead. "Sorry, sometimes I, um, ask too many questions."

Craig wants to protest, and tell Tweek that he can ask as many questions as he wants, because the sound of his voice is the greatest sound that he's ever heard, but at the same time, he's just relieved he doesn't actually have to come up with a response. He searches for something to say to fill the silence, but before he can start rambling on about the eating habits of guinea pigs, Tweek speaks again, his voice so quiet that Craig has to lean to the side and strain to hear him.

"He hit on me."

"What?" Craig's body reacts before his brain fully processes Tweek's words, his stomach clenching so tightly he feels like he's going to throw up and turn himself inside out. No, no, no. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah." Tweek's left eye twitches. "Um, Lola's birthday was a couple of weeks ago, and we were all at her place and, um, I was watching TV at about two in the morning? I don't usually sleep, because–" He hesitates. "I just don't, but everyone else was. Except Stan, I guess. He came and sat down on the couch with me and, um…he...tried to kiss me?"

Tweek's cheeks have been turning progressively redder as he talks, but it's nothing compared to the red that Craig sees right now. Who the fucking fuck does Stan fucking Marsh think he is? "He what," he says, his natural monotone sounding even more flat than usual and turning the question into a statement. It's all he can do to keep his hands at his sides and not punch the fuck out of the Focus's passenger-side window.

"I told him I wasn't interested, but, um, it took a couple of times before he stopped." Tweek clears his throat, glancing at Craig for just a second before looking back at the road. "I just, um, was wondering, is he always like that, or…?"

Yes. "Did you tell Lola?" Craig takes a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down. "I told him I wasn't interested." There, if that isn't enough confirmation that Tweek is one hundred percent straight, Craig doesn't know what is.

Tweek nods, slowly. "Yeah. She said he told her about it and that he'd just had too much to drink, but I don't know. She and I are really close, and I really don't want her to get hurt, but… He didn't seem drunk to me. I just wondered– Since he called you his ex, I was hoping you'd know if that seemed legitimate or not."

"Oh." Craig looks down at his lap, where he's still clutching the package of tissues, so tightly his knuckles are white. "Uh, well…" A loud growling sound suddenly fills the air and Craig immediately hunches forward in his seat, like doing so will hide the fact that his stomach has decided to make its presence known.

"You okay?"

"Uh-huh," Craig mumbles, the hunger pains shooting through his abdomen proof that no, he's not okay, he's starving. Gritting his teeth, he straightens up just in time to see Tweek spin the steering wheel to the right, taking the Focus down an unfamiliar side street. "Uh, the dorms are the other way."

"I know." Tweek bites his lip and gives Craig the tiniest of tiny smiles. "But you need to eat something, and I could use some coffee...and I still have some things I wanted to talk to you about. If you didn't mind hanging out with me for a little bit?"

"Of course not." Craig blinks, replaying that sentence in his head, utterly astounded that he'd managed to not only say words that made sense, but that they hadn't been framed by a chorus of "ums" or "uhs". But, wait, shit. Had he sounded too eager? He'd probably sounded too eager. "I mean, uh, sure." Nice save, Tucker.

"Great," Tweek says, his smile growing a little bigger. "Are you okay with sitting in another restaurant? I'd get us takeout, but I still have to finish cleaning Clyde's half of your room and I'd hate to just bring more garbage in."

"No, uh, yeah, that's uh, good, yeah, good idea." Craig had definitely forgotten all about Tweek's offer to clean, despite the fact that it has only been about nine hours since he'd started. "Where, uh, where did you have in mind?"

"Do you like surprises?"

If it had been anyone else asking, Craig would have said no, he hates surprises, and everything to do with them. But something about leaving his fate in Tweek's hands makes his whole body tingle, and so he just leans back in his seat, his heart racing like crazy, and gulps, his eyes on the blonde in the driver's seat next to him.

"I, uh, I don't hate them."