The next morning, Craig found himself tangled up in his blankets and the limbs of his guest. He turned his head to look at the other, pausing to really take in his features.
Imp's hair appeared extremely soft, and though it stuck up all over his head as if he'd been electrocuted, Craig found himself having to suppress the urge to reach out and run his fingers through the blonde locks. Imp's face was a bit chubbier than he had expected, but he supposed flying and other evil powers burned a lot of energy. He had eaten an awful lot the night before. As these thoughts idled through his mind, he continued his inspection.
The Hell creature seemed surprisingly peaceful, laying at his side. At some point in the night, he had turned to face Craig, and his knees were now pulled up close to his chest. Craig's eyes wandered back to Imp's face, taking in the dark bags under his. What could it be that made him look so tired? Did sleep not exist in Hell? Was what he was currently seeing actually a rare occurrence?
At this question, Craig reached behind him, feeling around until his fingers closed around his phone. He pulled up the camera and quickly snapped a picture of Imp's sleeping form. For some reason, his heart felt like it was speeding up a bit as he watched the other. Not wanting to be caught being creepy, Craig forced himself to get up, moving as slowly as he could to avoid jostling and waking Imp.
He sighed softly, looking down at his rumpled shirt and pants. Grabbing a fresh outfit from his closet and undergarments from his dresser, he went out into the hall and walked the short distance to the bathroom. His father and sister were already gone for the day, and he needed to get a move on and get to work or he'd be late.
Stepping to the shower, Craig's thoughts wandered to his guest for the second time that morning. He had so many questions for him still that Imp wouldn't be able to answer just because he himself didn't know. Which made Craig wonder just how long he had been an imp. When had he been changed into one? How had he been changed? Was there a way to undo it? What would happen if he did become human again? For the first time in his life, Craig wished the Devil's son, Damien, would come visit the town. He could probably give them all the answers they wanted.
Once he was clean, shaved, and dressed properly for his day, Craig headed downstairs to the kitchen. Deciding he felt lazy, he made a bowl of cereal, leaning against the counter to eat his crunchy creation. He glanced at the time, 8:32, and sighed. He heard footsteps on the stairs, and looked up as Imp got to the bottom floor. He was rubbing his messy hair and yawning. Craig noted the sharpness of his teeth, though they weren't the jagged terror from the day before.
Imp padded up to him, taking the half-eaten bowl from the youth pastor's hands and beginning to munch on it, walking away to sit at the table. Craig snorted in amusement, accepting the loss of his breakfast. He turned on the coffee maker, figuring he had enough time to quickly make a cup before needing to go. Besides, it seemed Imp could use some caffeine.
"What are your plans for the day?" he called over, opening a cupboard to pull out two mugs then going to the fridge to get creamer.
"I don't know, maybe explore a bit and see what I can mess up for people," Imp answered, polishing off the cereal quickly. "I do have a job on this plane, after all."
"Fair." Craig approached, a mug in each hand. "Here. It's coffee, it should help wake you up. I don't know how you'd like it, but you can add cream and sugar to it so it doesn't taste bitter." He handed the other a cup of black coffee, his own already sweetened.
Imp looked at the liquid suspiciously, glaring at his reflection.
"I have to get going. Try not to make the town too much of a mess." Quickly downing the hot beverage, Craig set the empty cup in the sink, pulled on his shoes, then headed out, leaving Imp behind. He realized this was a potentially bad idea; he knew next to nothing about Imp, and he had no clue what all the other was capable of.
He supposed he didn't have time to worry about it. He was going to be late.
Craig was surprised when he arrived home that that day for a few reasons, the first being that the house was still standing and didn't look any different than it had when he'd left that morning. The second was that he seemed to be the first one home, though it was nearing five o'clock. Tricia likely had gone to a friend's house, and maybe Thomas had stopped by Skeeter's bar? For whatever reason, they weren't home, leaving Craig to discover alone what had become of his fiendish guest.
Going to the door, he found it unlocked as he had left it that morning. Hoping Imp hadn't taken off and left the place vulnerable, he finally stepped inside. He was greeted immediately by a shaking ball of pure energy smashing into him, knocking the youth pastor into the (thankfully) closed door.
"Craig, you're back!" Imp shrieked, grabbing his arms tightly and jerking him around. "I was getting worried! I was starting to think no one was going to come back and I'd be alone and have to figure out how to run a human house on my own, and then I'd have to figure out how to find you all again and I just don't think I could handle that kind of pressure!"
Craig took a second to process the words being flung at him, then he gently set his hands on Imp's shoulders and pushed him lightly back. "Imp, how much coffee did you have today?" he asked, noticing the thick scent in the air.
"I DON'T KNOW! A LOT!" Yanking himself away, Imp sprinted into the kitchen, returning shortly with a fresh mug of the stuff. "It's the best thing I've ever had in my entire life! At least, as far as I can remember! You're out of it, by the way, there is no more of the brown powder!"
Craig went into the kitchen, and was glad to see that at least Imp hadn't gotten a new cup for each serving. He looked over the empty containers of coffee of the counter, letting out a soft sigh. That particular kind hadn't been cheap, but he guessed it was worth it since Imp was so... enamored by the stuff.
He picked up the containers and opened the trash can to throw them out, and noticed a distinct lack of grounds in the filters that littered the bottom of the bag. "Hey, Imp?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the other, who had followed behind him. "What did you do with the grounds that were in the filters?"
"Oh! Once they stopped making the coffee, I ate them."
Craig sucked in a deep breath, fighting the mixture of amusement and worry that suddenly bloomed in his chest. "Okay. For future reference, don't eat the grounds. Just throw them away with the filter."
Imp nodded enthusiastically, chugging a few gulps from his mug.
"I guess that's all. I don't think you'll sleep tonight," Craig added, returning to the living room, heading towards the front door.
"Where are you going?!" Imp demanded, hot on his heels.
"I need to go get more coffee before dad comes home. He loves the stuff and basically needs it in the mornings to not kill anyone." He side-eyed him a moment before he asked if he would like to go with him. The Hell creature nodded enthusiastically.
Craig opened the front door, letting Imp out. He stepped onto the porch and locked the door, then buried his hands into his pockets. In the short time since he had gotten home, it had begun to snow. Perfect, just perfect.
As Imp ran circles around him, the youth pastor led the way towards Food 4 Little, the closest grocery store to his house.
"Look, Imp, I know you're hopped up on caffeine right now, but I need you to chill out a bit or someone is going to think you're on drugs." Seeing the other open his mouth, he continued quickly, "I know technically caffeine is a drug, I mean an illegal one. Don't be a dick."
Imp grinned at him, a hit of mischief in his eyes, but after a few more twitches, he settled into relative calmness at Craig's side. They continued on in relative peace, the only annoyance now being the biting wind that whipped at their exposed flesh. Imp didn't seem to mind, the damned Hell creature. Curious if he was as warm now as the day before, Craig reached out and grabbed Imp's hand, making the other gasp in surprise at the cold touch.
Imp's hand was indeed still like a small heater, and the warmth from the other spread into his hand and up his arm, distributing throughout his body. Craig stopped dead, making the other bump into him, sending a delightful shock of warmth through him.
Before Imp could demand to know what his problem was, Craig yanked Imp up onto his back, securing his arms under Imp's legs to hold him in place. The imp squealed, instinctively wrapping his arms around Craig's neck. "What are you doing?!"
"You're warm, I'm cold. Shut up and be a heater for a bit," he answered blandly, continuing to walk as if he didn't have a fully-grown being hanging off of him. To be honest, Imp was not as heavy as Craig had expected him to be. Must be the imp-ness.
"You suck, Craig," Imp whined, though he didn't struggle or attempt to get down.
"Why do you say my name like that?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at his new, personal heater.
"Like what?"
"That."
"Oh. I told you yesterday, I was just going to call you 'human', but you told me your name anyway. I am simply using it and being spiteful at the same time," Imp said nonchalantly.
Craig snorted at this, shaking his head slightly. "I suppose that just comes with being a Hellion."
"I would suppose you're right."
A comfortable silence fell between them, the only sound the soft crunch of snow under Craig's shoes as he made his way down the street. As they neared the shopping district, a thought occurred to the pastor.
"Hey, is there a way to help you get your memories back? Did something make you lose them, or has it just been so long since you've been human that you just forgot?" he asked.
Imp sighed heavily, dropping his head onto Craig's shoulder. "I don't know, honestly. It possible that both are the answer. I don't know how long I've been an imp, but I know all imps are originally human. I have no memories from before waking up in Hell, and I have no clue how to go about finding out how to get them back."
"Hmm. I'll talk to a... coworker and see what I can come up with."
"You're going to tell your boss that some kids summoned an imp in his church?"
"I wasn't thinking of Father Maxi," Craig murmured. "Don't worry, I won't let anyone who could hurt you know you're here. I just want to help, and I think I know the perfect guy for the job."
"You can do whatever you want, I don't care." He tried to sound uninterested, but Craig could hear the note of excitement in his voice. It could have been the caffeine, but he got the feeling it was genuine.
Craig decided this would be his top priority from then until Imp had his memories back. After getting more coffee, about three times more than he usually bought, and returning home, he went into his father's old office, which was now his. He thought idly that maybe leaving Imp alone with Tricia and his father wasn't the greatest idea, but he had some research to do.
He logged onto his computer and turned on what Tricia had dubbed his "work playlist", which only consisted of one band. He played it when he needed to focus. Not because it was good, but because it motivated him to work faster so he could turn it off. As the myrrh-winning album began, Craig gritted his teeth, the horribly familiar sound of Faith +1 issuing through the speakers.
The only enjoyable part of the terrible songs were the sweet base lines his good friend Token Black came up with for each song. Butters Stotch's drumming was pretty great too. Alright, honestly, the only thing that made the band suck as much dick as it did was the unfortunate third, and leading, member: Eric Cartman. That asshole ruined everything he touched, and it was with no little satisfaction that Craig recalled Token kicking the shit out of Cartman on a giant stage in front of thousands of people.
Soon enough, he was pulled from his happy memories by a grating voice that ripped through his brain. With a groan, he forced himself to focus, opening a browser and setting to work.
From outside the room in the hall, Imp was listening, confused as to what the other was doing. He could hear what sounded like a million little clicks, followed by tapping, then long stretches of silence. He reached for the doorknob to investigate, but his arm was caught by Tricia.
"Let him be, Misty. He's working," she said, pulling the other behind her downstairs. "He gets like this sometimes. It's best to just let him work until he feels he's done, it makes everything easier. He'll just keep going back, no matter how much we pull him away."
"How long will he do this?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder back towards Craig's office.
"It depends on what he's trying to do." She shrugged, then flopped onto the couch, her legs dangling over the armrest. "The longest I've ever seen him go when he's in one of his moods was three days."
Imp felt strangely annoyed at this information. "What am I supposed to do for three days?"
Tricia smiled, and patted the cushion beside her. "You can hang out with me. Regardless what Craig says, I'm totally cool. He's just mad since he was a nerd and never got a girlfriend." After looking over Imp critically for a moment, she grinned playfully. "Or a boyfriend."
"I'm not gay," he told the girl, sinking onto the seat beside her.
"You want me to prove it to you?" The challenge in Tricia's voice caught his attention more than her actual words.
"What do you mean?" he asked slowly, shifting away from her slightly. He couldn't explain it, but something about her current behavior was making him uncomfortable, and he wanted to stand and leave. But where exactly was he going to go?
Unfortunately for Imp, this distraction was more than enough for the teenager to make good on her threat.
Her arms shot out, wrapping around Imp's neck and yanking him to her, smashing their lips together. Imp's eyes widened and he struggled to escape her hold. When Tricia tried to run her fingers through his hair, he jumped to his feet, throwing her to the ground. He scrambled away from her, scrubbing his lips with his nails.
"What the fuck, Tricia!?" he screeched, his eyes changing from wide and scared to narrowed and furious.
"Did you enjoy that?" she asked, looking up at him from the ground where she had landed on her back. She crossed her arms and a slight smile played on her lips. "At all? Not so much me forcing you to kiss me, but the idea of kissing me? Or any girl, for that matter?"
"No! Of course not, why would I ever want to do that?" Imp demanded, incredulous. What even was this girl's logic?
"What if it had been my brother?"
Immediately, Imp's mouth snapped shut and red coated his cheeks. What if Craig had just... pulled him into a kiss like that? For some reason, rather than the anger and discomfort he felt from Tricia doing just that, thinking of the youth pastor made him... happy?
As realization dawned on his face, Tricia smiled, then shot finger guns at him. "Boom. There it is."
"Well, fuck," Imp huffed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's never going to happen anyway, Tricia. Don't make me think about it so it can die fast. Less misery for me."
"Look, my brother can be a real fuck boy at times, but I promise he's a good person." She sat up, and pulled herself back up onto the couch. "I know he says he isn't gay, but we've all known he was since he was ten. I figured it out when I was five. Five, and I figured out he was gay before he did. It's really just sad at this point." Tricia patted the seat beside her again, and Imp sat cautiously, ready to jump away should she come at him again.
"I don't know why, Misty, but I feel like you're perfect for him. I can see already the impact you've had on him, and it's been good. I've never seen him do something as selfless as offer to give up his room, he's way too protective of his stuff to do that, mostly because Stripe is in there and he loves that guinea pig more than his own life."
"I'm not a good person, Tricia. I don't know how I tricked you into thinking that, but I'm telling you now, I am the worst thing to ever happen to your brother." He looked down at his hands, playing with his fingers. "How we met was definitely not a precursor to a solid relationship. It's an unstable foundation."
Tricia put a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch at the unexpected gesture. "Misty... I don't know what brought you to needing the church's homeless shelter, but it's not your fault." It took Imp a moment to figure out what she was talking about, then remembered the lie Craig had told for his presence. Guilt formed in his chest as he realized his relationship with all of the Tucker clan was founded on either cult activity, or lies. Lovely.
"I'm not going to ask what happened," she continued, not picking up on his mood shift, "it's none of my business and I don't want to force you to relive a bad experience. Just know that, if you ever do need to talk, I'm here for you. I know better than most people how useful it is to talk to Craig, but he doesn't always have the answers. I may be younger, but when it comes to emotions and feelings, I'm your girl." She grabbed his hand in both of hers, staring hard into his eyes.
Silence fell between the two, Imp considering pulling his hand away, and Tricia attempting to prove how serious she was. It was the arrival of Thomas Tucker that broke them apart. He looked between his daughter and Imp, one eyebrow raised slightly. "Hm. Playing for both teams?" he asked. There was no judgment in his voice. In fact, he didn't even sound interested in the answer to his question.
Tricia laughed and hopped over the back of the couch, running over and hugging the man in greeting. "Don't worry, dad. Misty is totally gay, completely interested in Craig, and I'm going to help them get together," she declared.
The corners of Thomas' mouth quirked up, and he patted the top of her head fondly, making her hair bounce slightly. "Good luck."
"Thanks!" Tricia left the two, heading up to her room. Thomas went to his recliner and flipped on the television. The news began, but Thomas was watching Imp over the broadcast. Imp glanced around the room in favor of meeting his gaze.
"Will you treat my boy well?"
Imp jumped, the question taking him by surprise. "Huh?"
"Craig. Will you be good to him?"
"I mean..." Imp turned to look at Thomas as he spoke. "I'll be the best I can be. If he's even interested."
"He's interested." The certainty in his voice peeked Imp's curiosity.
"How do you know?" he asked, settling back into the couch and crossing his arms.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "He's my kid. I raised him, I know how to read him. Trust me, he's interested. He just doesn't want to admit it to himself. It's not that he minds gay people. Honestly, for how red-neck, white trash this town is, it's very accepting of different lifestyles. No, with Craig, it's more him thinking along the lines of 'I don't have time to do feelings like that, so they don't exist'."
This interested the imp, and he nodded. "I see. Is there a way to make him realize it, or does he just have to figure it out?"
"I'm sure you could help him along. Where is he, anyway?"
"The office. He's listening to some shit Christian band," Imp said, glancing back at the steps. He still wanted to go up and disturb the other. He was bored, and Craig seemed to be the only thing capable of relieving him. The sound of the news caught his attention, and he turned to watch as music signaled a breaking news bulletin.
"Breaking news," the caster announced. "Is there a serial killer loose in the small Colorado town of South Park? Police are saying, 'Yes, yes there is!', and they have shared with us some of their information." He turned towards a red-haired man with a mustache, and a name appeared under the guest: Sergent Harrison Yates.
"Thanks for having me, Tom," the man said, then launched into his speech without waiting for a response. "Citizens, I'm sorry to report to you all that ten bodies have been discovered in the backroom of the Catholic church."
Imp's eyes widened, and he felt Thomas stiffen a few feet away.
"We have no leads, and no idea what happened. None of the victims have injuries, internal or external. It appears they all just dropped dead. If it weren't for the fear on their faces, we would have chalked it up to natural causes. Be warned, the pictures we're about to show are graphic and shouldn't be viewed by those with weak stomachs or children."
Beside him, Tom the news anchor seemed miffed that the Sergent had taken over, but he nodded to someone off screen, and the image changed. Onto the screen, the familiar backroom of the church appeared. Apparently, Craig hadn't gone back in to clean it up, so the cult's set up was still there. The giant cross the pastor had been tied to was visible in the back of the shot as well. The only change that had occurred was the movement of the bodies the two had left behind. The teens were now laid out in the center under white sheets. Across the screen, a close up photo of ever face popped up. Each was frozen in terror, eyes wide, mouths open in silent screams.
Yates returned and began to talk once more. "If you recognize any of these people, please call the number below. More importantly, if you have any information on what happened here, come forward. As great as the SPD is, even we can't do miracles. We need help."
"Thanks, Sergent. Onto other news-" Imp stood up, no longer interested in what he was saying. He rushed upstairs and slammed his way into Craig's office. The man was surprised to be interrupted, and he paused his music, turning to look at the intruder. Seeing Imp, Craig got to his feet.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Turn on the news."
Curious, Craig sat back down and opened a new tab, typing quickly and bringing up the clip Imp had just watched. His face remained neutral, and at the end, he closed the page. "I would say don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about it?!" Imp hissed. He shut the door, then stomped over to Craig, spinning his chair around and forcing the other to face him. He grabbed the arms and leaned in, trapping him in his seat. "Craig, you think I care about this for me? I don't give a shit about those people; you humans can't do anything to me. I'm worried about you, you dumb fuck!"
Craig blinked, startled by the fierceness.
"That's your work place! Did you forget that? You're going to look suspicious! Especially when they figure out you were the last one in the building the night they all died! Don't just sit here listening to music that makes me want to cut off my ears!"
"Whoa, whoa, dude." Craig put his hands up, resting his palms lightly on Imp's shoulders. "Take a few deep breaths. Everything is fine, I've already come up with a plan if the police come to me."
"Yeah, and what's that?"
"I'll just tell them they tried to sacrifice me. They accidentally summoned a creature from Hell and it killed them."
Imp stared at the other, unsure if the pastor was fucking with him or not. "...really," he finally said, his tone flat, clearly relaying his disbelief.
He received a nod in return. "Yeah. I've been telling you, Imp, this town is bat-shit insane. It's not impossible for that to happen, I mean it did happen, so someone is going to believe me, and knowing how this town is, it'll likely pass as just an unfortunate incident with teenagers being stupid."
"And if they don't believe you?"
"It would. In the case of that not working, I know someone in town who can help me out. Question for you now."
"What?"
"Why do you think I need to be careful like I'll get caught lying? I'm going to literally tell them what happened, just leaving out that you're still here."
The Hell creature opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Craig was right; he was going to tell the truth, what was he so worried about? More than that, why did he even give a shit in the first place? He crossed his arms and looked away from the other, now annoyed. "Sorry for caring, asshole," he snipped.
Craig smiled. "I appreciate the concern," he assured. Checking the time, he stretched his arms up over his head, his arms cracking at the joints as he stood up. "I know you're probably still hyped from all the coffee from earlier, but it's time for me to head to bed. You're welcome to hang out in here and use the computer if you want."
Imp didn't respond, choosing instead to throw himself into the newly vacated chair and spinning around in it. He crossed his arms, pouting at the swirling floor. Craig allowed himself to smile a bit more, feeling a strange fondness for the other as he watched.
"Good night, Imp."
"... Good night."
Leaving the room, Craig yawned, dragging his hands down his face. It had been a relatively long day, going from work to home and discovering a coffee-crazed Imp, the walk to the store carrying him (he couldn't help but blush lightly at the memory. Why had he been so insistent on that?), the conversation, and then torturing himself for a few hours with the annoying sound of Eric Cartman's shit singing.
He went into his room, heading towards his dresser to find some looser clothes to sleep in. The sound of a voice being cleared behind him caused Craig to jump in surprise and he whipped around to find his sister lounging on his bed.
"Fucking- Tricia, what are you doing in here?" he demanded. He didn't want to deal with his sister right now, he was too tired for that fuckery. The girl smiled, and Craig narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "... What do you want?" Tricia didn't smile like that unless she was plotting something.
"Did Misty tell you?" she asked, sitting up.
Assuming she mean the news about the church, he nodded. "Yeah, why?" Clearly this wasn't what she had expected his answer to be, her eyebrows shooting up.
"Really? And you just... don't care?" She sounded disbelieving, but he couldn't for the life of him imagine why. She had grown up with him, she knew pretty much nothing phased him.
"Not particularly." Turning back to his dresser, he pulled out sweatpants and an old t-shirt. "Can you take off? I want to go to bed." Hearing no movement, he sighed heavily and turned to face her, startled to find her glaring at him.
"I don't believe for one second that's true!" she snapped, getting up and marching towards him. She poked his chest hard. "For one, I know for a fact you care very much, and two, I don't care how little we act like we give a shit about one another, you would never be okay with me just putting the moves on a stranger you randomly brought home!"
This was followed by slight panting as Tricia got over her lecture, but Craig didn't know what to say, blinking down at his sister. Finally, he settled on the most prominent reply he could come up with.
"What the actual fuck are you talking about?"
It was then Tricia's turn to be confused. "What do you mean what am I talking about? You said he told you!"
"About the investigation about the church. What is all this about you being weird with a stranger? What did you do?"
Tricia blinked rapidly a few times, then snorted as the connection was made in her head. "Oooh," she murmured. "You where talking about... and I thought... Well, that makes a lot more sense."
"Glad to see you understand everything. Mind cluing me in?" he requested, miffed. This girl, honestly. What was he going to do with her? It was the flash of evil on her face that made him instantly nervous, but her words caused his stomach to knot in ways he didn't know were possible.
"I 'macked on Misty downstairs when you were in the office. Dad caught us."
For some reason, cold filled Craig's chest, and he shivered as though he was freezing. Imp had kissed her...? First off, why did he care about that? Imp could do whatever he wanted. But then... why did he feel like he'd been somehow betrayed?
Tricia patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, Craiggy," she cooed. "He was not the one to initiate, but was definitely the one to pull away. Just about as fast as he could. If it had been anyone else, I would have been insulted. But yeah, he's extremely gay, so you know. Get in there."
As red coated his cheeks and he spluttered a weak protest, she left. Now alone with his confusing thoughts and feelings, Craig changing and got into bed, throwing his arm over his eyes.
Why had the idea of Imp kissing someone hurt so much? Was it because it was Tricia? ... No, he got the feeling that wasn't the main issue. But what could it be? Why had his heart fluttered when Tricia had said Imp was gay? He wasn't gay, so what did that matter? Ugh, this was too much thinking for so late at night. He peeked at his alarm clock, seeing it read 9:34 pm. Oh yeah, he was declaring it way too late to be dealing with bullshit of this magnitude. He had a busy day tomorrow, important people to talk too.
His strange burst of fear and anxiety gone, he rolled onto his side and pulled his comforter up over his head. He would think more about this after he'd gotten Imp some help.
