A/N:
You didn't think I forgot about you, did you? Seriously though, sorry for this taking so long, my job has been crazy busy and then I decided to rewrite half of this chapter. But I'm super happy with how it turned out, and I hope you are too!
(I also wanted to say, if you have any ideas or suggestions for non-Tweek-related lists, feel free to throw them my way! I can't promise I'll use them, but if I can work it in I will!)
Craig stares down at the menu lying in front of him, rereading the words he's read a million times; in all the years Clyde's been dragging him out to Raisins, the menus have never been updated or replaced. They're still the same old two-sided laminated orange and white sheets advertising zingy-tingy everything in some excessively swirly lettering that have been there since as far back as Craig can remember. This menu in particular even has the added bonus of a black Sharpie drawing of a taco with eyes doodled on the bottom right corner, right on top of the description of the Zingy-Tingy BBQ Burger.
"What are you getting?" Clyde is frowning down at his own menu, looking for all the world like it's his first time here and that he doesn't have the entire thing memorized by now. He glances over at Craig and grins when he sees the taco drawing. "Hey, you got my menu!"
"Guess that means you're paying, right?" Token leans forward to see past Clyde. "Getting that thing is pretty much the equivalent of getting the short straw."
Clyde drops his menu on the table; sitting back against the wall of the booth he makes a hurt huffing noise. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means we're all getting free food!"
Craig tenses as Kenny reaches across the table and grabs his menu, holding it up to admire Clyde's artwork. Underneath the wooden surface, his fingers curl tightly around his kneecaps, the only way he can resist the sudden temptation to either flip Kenny off or punch him in the face. "You wish," he says instead with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not paying for you."
"Just me, or was that like, a collective 'you'?" Kenny asks, gesturing around the booth for emphasis.
"Don't you have a movie to get to?" Craig ignores Kenny's question to ask one of his own. Not that he gives two fucks about Kenny's date - he just wants him to go the hell away. He's been around Kenny for a total of forty-two minutes today and it's been forty-two minutes too many.
Kenny spins the menu around in his hands and replies, "Nah, I've totally got time for a taco." Dropping the menu back onto the table, he gives Clyde a nod of approval and points at the Sharpie taco. "Nice choice drawing it on top of the burger. It's such a power move."
"I know, right?" Clyde grins, pleased with his past self's taco placement. "Tacos are so much better than burgers!"
"Cheaper too," Token says, tapping the corner of his menu against his chin thoughtfully. "We could all just get a bunch of tacos and that way we wouldn't bankrupt poor Craig over there."
Unable to help himself this time, Craig brings one hand up from under the table; reaching over Clyde, he hovers his fist in Token's face for a second before slowly raising his middle finger, the gesture causing Token to simply snort and shake his head. He pushes Craig's hand out of his personal space, and Craig aims the finger at Clyde before pulling his arm back and saying, "I'm not fuckin' paying for you guys either."
"Oh, so I guess just Tweek, then, huh?" Clyde says, shooting a quick, sly, not-subtle-in-the-least smile at Craig before dramatically throwing himself in a heap across the top of the table, accidentally sweeping Kenny's original menu onto the floor in the process. "I thought we were best friends," he whines plaintively, letting out a loud fake sob for good measure. "I see how it is."
At the mention of his name, Tweek peers over the top of his menu from where he's scrunched himself into the closest thing to a corner the semicircle booth provides. There's an equal amount of space between himself and both Kenny and Craig, though he's unconsciously leaning a bit more in Kenny's direction, an instinctive attempt to avoid a repeat of earlier. His knee still hurts and he's sure that when he gets home later he'll find a gigantic terrible bruise where his kneecap should be.
All things considered, though, he feels like he is doing a far better job of handling this Raisins trip than he thought he would. Part of it is definitely because he's got Kenny for backup, at least until he has to leave to meet Ferrari. But, Tweek thinks as his eyes flit up to glance at one of the restaurant's ceiling-embedded speakers, part of it likely also has to do with the playlist of boyband hits that Raisins has apparently decided to blast tonight. For whatever reason, the cheesy pop music is providing an extremely comfortable ambiance, and for that alone, Tweek is considering tipping extra tonight – even though the service has so far been terrible.
Craig glances around the table, praying to whatever entity will have him that neither Tweek nor Kenny had caught anything weird about Clyde's comment. Token is looking down at his phone and Kenny has Craig's menu in front of his face, but, because Craig is fairly certain the universe has it out for him, he and Tweek make eye contact again. Craig fights against the instinct to immediately look away, instead channelling all of his inner strength to act normal, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head towards Clyde as if to say something like, "This idiot, right?"
Tweek smiles in response, and Craig's stomach takes the opportunity to start performing Olympic-level gymnastics. He's come to learn, over the years, that Tweek only genuinely smiles about ten percent of the time; the other ninety percent of the time his expressions fall somewhere in the range of anxiousness, nervousness, anxious nervousness, or cautious happiness – where he'll smile, but his eyes will inevitably betray his concern for any and every possible negative outcome of whatever situation he's in.
But when Tweek smiles at him now, Craig can detect no trace of concern in Tweek's eyes, which means this is one of those rare, true smiles. Craig has a whole list in his not-so-secret-anymore Tweek notebook devoted to these particular smiles, but this is the first time he can remember that one of them has actually been directed at him. Just like earlier, outside the coffee shop, he's completely caught off guard, so much so that when he opens his mouth to speak he swallows a giant gulp of air instead. He coughs harshly, his eyes immediately watering at the sharp pain in his chest.
"Are you okay?!" Alarmed, Tweek grabs his thermos from where it is lying beside him in the booth and holds it out to Craig. "Here, have a drink!" The calm moment is broken, his worry for Craig taking over every fiber of his being, and Tweek momentarily forgets that this whole outing should be stressing him out for an entirely different reason.
"Don't die," Token says calmly, looking up from his phone just long enough to see that Craig is in no real danger.
Craig lets out one final hack, half-expecting one of his lungs to come flying right out of his mouth. Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, he accepts the thermos from Tweek. "Thanks," he croaks, unscrewing the lid and taking a drink of the coffee inside. He does his best not to cringe at the taste, not wanting to make Tweek feel bad, instead focusing on how the warm liquid actually does a pretty good job of making his throat feel less like it's covered in burning spikes.
Why a hot drink soothes the sensation of burning Craig has no idea, but the fact is that it does, and after one more gulp of what he recognizes as Tweek Bros. Sunset Blend, he can speak normally again. "Jesus Christ," he mumbles to himself as he replaces the thermos's lid and slides it across the table to Tweek.
"Still with us?" Kenny asks, his voice betraying his amusement, though his face remains hidden behind the menu.
"I sure hope so!" Clyde pipes up from the middle of the table. "Otherwise poor Tweek's gonna have to pay for his own tacos!"
Craig's eyes darken, one of his signature glares directed at his completely oblivious best friend, who is now repeatedly making some sort of sniffling/snorting noise. He kicks his right leg out underneath the table, aiming for Clyde's shin, but connecting with the table base instead, because, he thinks, of fucking course.
"God-fuckin'-dammit," he hisses to himself, missing his old shoes; as beat-up as they were, they were at least made of more substance than the disgusting things he's wearing now, and could actually take a hit. He shakes his foot, fully expecting the action to shake away the pain that kicking a solid chunk of metal causes. Unfortunately for Craig, he has not developed that specific brand of superpower as of yet, and so he is forced to endure the dull ache spreading through his foot.
"Hey, hey, hey." Kenny places Craig's menu on top of Clyde's head, pausing to make sure he's got it balanced properly; he then leans his elbow gently on Tweek's shoulder and raises an eyebrow in Craig's direction. "If you're paying for Tweek's food, I think it's only fair that you spring for me too." He ruffles Tweek's hair with his other hand and adds, "We're kind of a package deal tonight, don't you think, Tweeky?"
Tweek bites his bottom lip before scooting closer to Kenny, reaching up as he does so to move Kenny's arm so that it's around both of his shoulders. "Ferrari won't mind?" he says, unable to help the nervous laugh that follows the question. He leans into Kenny and tilts his head up to look at him, the fabric of Kenny's t-shirt soft against his cheek.
Kenny winks down at Tweek before responding, "Ferrari who?" and squeezing Tweek's shoulders. He leans down to speak quietly into Tweek's ear. "Keep laughing like that and Craig'll be a human puddle by the end of the night."
Craig snatches his menu off of Clyde so quickly it almost slips right out of his hands again. He slaps the thing down onto the table, rests his head on his arms, using his hands as makeshift blinders, and stares down at it; but the swirly text doesn't even register in his brain, the image of Tweek and Kenny in the booth all that he can see at the moment. A twinge of pain shoots through his foot and he once more wonders what the fuck he is doing here.
"Clyde," he says, gritting his teeth. "Can I talk to you for a second." He isn't sure what he wants to say to Clyde, exactly, but he knows that this entire mess he's in right now is Clyde's fault. Things had been going just fine in Craig's life, great, even, before Clyde had found that notebook and ruined absolutely everything.
Okay, sure, so he'd been harboring secret feelings for one of his best friends that had only increased in intensity over the years. And, all right, maybe the weight of knowing that he was never going to be able to tell anyone about those feelings without causing an absolute shitstorm of chaos had been getting to him, just a little bit. And yeah, fine, things had gotten to the point that Craig felt like his heart was literally breaking in half every time he was around Tweek and that some nights he would go home from hanging out with the guys and cry frustrated, miserable tears into his pillow.
That was all completely irrelevant.
Clyde pulls himself back up into a sitting position. "Sure!" he says cheerily. "What's up?" Beside him, Token shifts a little bit, and then Clyde yelps. "What was that for?" he whines, shoving Token's shoulder.
Token lifts his head and gestures ever-so-slightly with his chin in Tweek and Kenny's direction. Clyde, who had never quite mastered the definition of the word inconspicuous, immediately looks across the table, his eyes widening when he sees what it is that has Craig looking like he wants to light Raisins on fire. Not wanting to lose his favorite restaurant to the bad kind of arson, he says, "I'm gonna go talk to Mercedes. Craig, can you come with in case she has her pepper spray on her again?"
Without a word, Craig turns in his seat, impatiently waiting for Token to move so that he can go bring the wrath of a million fiery middle fingers down upon Clyde "Tweek totally likes you, dude!" Donovan. (Somewhere between his bedroom earlier this afternoon and now, it's completely escaped Craig's mind that, in fact, it was actually Token who had made that claim.)
But, again, in a turn of events so inconveniently convenient Craig actually looks around to see if Jesus is sitting at a table near him laughing at his zingy-tingy misfortune, now is when their waitress decides to make a reappearance at the table.
"Hi, cuties, are we all decided?" Sierra flips her hair over her shoulder and smiles expectantly.
"That depends," Kenny says with a lazy smile in Craig's direction. "Did we figure out who's covered under the Bank of Tucker tonight?"
Craig growls accidentally, seriously considering taking off one of his new shoes and chucking it at Kenny's face. The only thing stopping him is the fact that Tweek is sitting point three millimeters away from his target and Craig's hand eye coordination is utter fucking trash. The last thing he wants to do tonight is injure someone he actually cares about.
He opens his mouth without any particular snarky comment ready, figuring he'll just improvise because it's not like it's hard to be a dick to Kenny; but before he can get out even one scornful scoff, Tweek speaks up.
"Um," he says, picking up his thermos from the table and tapping the sides of it with his fingers, unconsciously mimicking the beat of the song pouring out of the ceiling speakers: NSYNC's 'Tearin' Up My Heart'. "I got it."
"Are you sure?" The question comes out before Craig really thinks about it. "Uh, because I can totally…" He trails off, struggling to do basic math in his head to figure out how much money he actually has before making a promise he can't keep.
Tweek smiles again, another one of those worry-free smiles that Craig misses because he's still got his hand up to block the view of that half of the table. "Yeah," Tweek says. "Get whatever you want."
"Don't say that." Token sets his phone next to his menu and shakes his head. "Now Clyde's going to order half the menu."
"I am not!" Clyde protests, adding with a wistful sigh, "They don't let me do that anymore."
"Because you puked your guts out at the table and then skipped out on your entire bill." Sierra's smile vanishes as she narrows her eyes at Clyde, the sweet Raisins persona of seconds ago nowhere in sight. "You're lucky we even let you walk through that door tonight."
"Aw, come on." Clyde offers Sierra his best attempt at a charming apologetic smile. "I told you, I was sick that day. You're not gonna hold that against me forever, are you?" His eyes light up with a sudden thought and he adds, "I know what you could hold against me forever, though." He leans over and whispers to Craig, "Maybe that would work on Tweek!"
Craig feels his face heat up almost immediately. Jesus Christ, why does Clyde always have to be so fucking loud? He risks a quick glance at the other side of the table with only his eyes, letting out a soft sigh of relief when it appears that, by some miracle, Clyde's whisper had only been audible to him.
"Oh, Goddammit." Token gives Sierra a weary look and shrugs. "Sorry, Sierra. He forgot to take his dumbfuck medication today."
"Uh-huh." Sierra rolls her eyes. "Do you know what you're getting or not? I don't have all night."
"I'll just get the Zingy Tingy chicken wrap," Token says. "And Clyde will have the tacos, and he would also like to apologize for being the biggest moron in the universe."
"He can apologize with a tip, if he wants to eat here ever again." Sierra's gaze moves to Craig and her smile returns. "What about you, sweetie, what would you like tonight?"
Craig realizes that even though they've been sitting at the table with the menus for nearly twenty minutes, he hasn't thought about what he'd like to eat even once. "Uh, just a sec…" He scans the menu in front of him, overly conscious of the price of everything now that Tweek has offered to pay.
It's not that Craig has a real issue with other people spending money on him. He once went a good six months in tenth grade without paying for lunch, scavenging what he could from Clyde or Token's leftovers until one of them (usually Token) got exasperated and just bought him his own meal.
But Tweek's a different case, always has been, even before Craig knew he had more-than-friend feelings for him. Part of it has to do with guilt over their third grade fight; Craig just cannot feel good about letting someone he'd been coerced into beating the hell out of for no reason buy him anything. It feels too much like bullying to him, in a weird way, like now that he'd made Tweek bleed one time when they were eight, he was eternally owed something lest he get the urge to do it again.
He wouldn't, ever, of course. There are a lot of people in South Park that Craig would gladly introduce to Fuck and You (he'd named his fists back in seventh grade, and still thought of them that way more often than he'd like to admit) but Tweek deserves better than that. That's the other part of why he's so hesitant to let Tweek pay for him. Tweek deserves better. He has never done anything to wrong anybody, and in this town that's no small feat. He's too good for South Park, in Craig's opinion, and all of the money he makes at the coffee shop should be put towards getting himself the fuck out of this place as soon as possible. Not wasted on Craig.
But Tweek's his own person, who makes his own decisions, and as much as Craig would like to argue with him, he knows it would be futile. All of the Tweaks have an incredible stubborn streak when they want to. Still, he's not about to take advantage of Tweek's incredible generosity by ordering a ridiculously overpriced burger or anything. "I'll get the...salad," he finishes lamely, pointing at the only item on the menu under ten dollars.
"Sure, cutie!" Sierra reaches for the menu and Craig hands it to her, feeling everyone's eyes on him again like he's just announced he will be having deep-fried unicorn for dinner tonight.
"Since when do you eat salad?" Clyde stares at Craig in disbelief. Token just smirks knowingly.
"Since always," Craig mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at the table.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was because Tweek offered to be our generous benefactor of food," Kenny says. Craig looks over just in time to see Kenny grin and tap Tweek's nose with his middle finger. Tweek actually blushes, and Craig's positive his heart literally stops beating.
"What're you guys having?" Sierra turns to the table's two blonds.
"Oh, God." Tweek tugs on a piece of his hair, having also not given much thought to what he was going to order. "Um, chicken strips and fries! Please!" He eyes Sierra suspiciously, and thinks to himself, not for the first time, that these Raisins waitresses should really start writing orders down.
Sierra nods. "Do you want zingy-tingy, bitchin' bbq, or ranchtastical sauce with those?"
"Oh, um, I don't–"
"Zingy-tingy," Kenny answers for him with a smile. "I'll get the tacos too, and I always like 'em to have some extra zing, you can just give me yours."
"My zing is your zing." Tweek does his best to mimic Kenny's signature casual tone, but ends up with a bit of a French accent on the zings, which he attributes to being in the same classes as Christophe for the last six years.
Craig grinds his teeth together to stop himself from smiling like an idiot, having just learned that he is a real sucker for French accented Tweek.
"All right, so that's–" Sierra interrupts herself, recognition dawning in her eyes as she looks more closely at Kenny. "Hey, wait, aren't you supposed to be going out with Ferrari tonight?" At her question, a sheet of tension falls over the table. Token and Clyde share a look and Clyde shifts nervously, further into the booth; but Craig, barely paying attention, just slides his hands into his hoodie pockets, crinkling the folded piece of paper he'd shoved in there earlier between his fingers.
"Yeah," Kenny answers easily, though there's just a hint of wariness in his eyes now; a confrontation with a pissed Raisins girl is nothing to sneeze at. "I'm meeting her at the movies for seven." He pulls his arm back from Tweek's shoulders. "I just thought I'd grab a quick bite with my amigos first."
"You know, we all told Ferrari she couldn't trust you." Sierra flips her red hair again, the gesture playful, but her tone is icy. "She was all like, 'but you guys, he promised he wouldn't be a dick' but we all knew better. And now here you are, on another date on the same night you're supposed to be seeing her?"
"It's not a date!" Tweek yelps, his eyes wide, before Kenny can say a word.
Sierra rolls her eyes, but the exclamation ignites some hope in Craig's heart and he looks up, through the strands of hair that have escaped his hat and are now acting as an extremely thin curtain over his eyes.
"Chillax, Tweeky," Kenny says, patting the top of Tweek's head. He smiles at Sierra. "Come on, it's our first date, we haven't made any real promises to each other." Sierra's eyes darken and Kenny backtracks. "I mean, about being exclusive, you know what I'm saying? You're not going to say anything to her, are you?"
Sierra shakes her head, an evil Raisins girl smile blossoming across her face. "I'm not going to have to." She shrugs a shoulder in the direction of the door. "Because she just walked in."
Kenny immediately twists around in the booth, a note of very uncharacteristic panic in the "Oh, shit," that comes out of his mouth as he scans the restaurant. He rakes a hand through his hair nervously when he spies Ferrari at the hostess stand talking to Mercedes.
"So that's a wrap, two orders of tacos, chicken strips, a salad, and a big dose of karma," Sierra lists off, clapping her hands once. "Did you guys need some drinks, sweetie?" She directs the inquiry at Craig, who blinks stupidly at her, caught off guard at having to act as the table's unofficial spokesperson.
"Uh, Coke?" he says questioningly, with a look around at the other three members of the group that matter to him, not particularly caring about Kenny's opinion. Clyde and Token give nods of agreement, and Craig forces himself to look into Tweek's eyes again to address him specifically. "Unless, uh, you want some more–" His heart starts thumping dangerously fast as he racks his brain for the word, somehow managing to forget the name of the stuff that Tweek drinks so much he probably has it in his blood by now. "Some more, uh…" He grasps the paper in his pocket tighter in his fist, his cheeks burning with embarrassment but completely unable to look away.
Tweek is feeling the same way, frozen there in the booth staring into Craig's eyes. He knows what Craig is trying to ask him, but for the life of him he can't open his mouth to help him out. It's like every time they make eye contact tonight the rest of Tweek's body stops working.
Craig feels Clyde's elbow dig into his side and then there's a hiss of, "Coffee," in his ear. Oh, thank Christ.
"Coffee," he blurts out, much louder than is necessary like volume is going to cover up the fact that he's a fucking moron. "Unless you want more coffee?"
"Oh." Tweek clears his throat. "No, um, Coke is good."
"All right!" Sierra chirps, flashing one more bright smile at Craig. "I'll get your order in right away!" She holds out her hand for the remaining menus, recoiling just a little when Clyde scrambles to pick them up and pass them to her. As she moves away from the table, she raises her arm and calls, "Hey, Ferrari!"
Ferrari looks up, and Kenny whips back around in the booth. "Think she saw me?"
"Kenny?"
"Ferrari!" Kenny grins, aiming for the innocence of an angel.
"I'm gonna go with yes," Token says, smiling when he sees who Ferrari is accompanied by. "Hey, Nic! What are you guys doing here?"
Nichole leans down to give Token a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "We had a dance committee meeting today, but you'll never guess what happened–"
"What are you doing here?" Ferrari asks Kenny abruptly, suspiciously eyeing the lack of space between him and Tweek. She twirls some of her dark brown hair around her fingers. "Is this a date?"
"No!" For the second time Tweek denies the accusation for Kenny, nearly leaping two feet off the seat. "Jesus, no, it's just, we're just friends!"
Kenny groans internally; he knows that Tweek doesn't mean to look hella suspicious but judging from the look on Ferrari's face, two solid months of begging for this date might just have been in vain.
"I don't sit that close to my friends," Ferrari says with a pointed glare at where Kenny and Tweek's shoulders are pressed together.
Tweek scrambles away from Kenny, so focused on doing anything he can to not bring down the entire wrath of Raisins upon them (been there, done that, Clyde got the t-shirt) that he completely spaces on the fact that away from Kenny can only lead him to one place.
"Ungph!"
"Agh!" Tweek shrieks as he bounces right off Craig's shoulder and tips over onto his side, partially laying on the seat of the booth now and wishing he could just stay there forever.
Craig rubs his shoulder, not so much hurt as trying to figure out how to react to Tweek suddenly smashing right into him. Clyde, beside him, grabs his arm excitedly.
"This is your chance, say something flirty!" he whispers. "Ooh! Ask him something about falling for you!"
Craig takes a second to imagine later tonight, when they leave here and he can shove Clyde right into a tree. Turning to Tweek, he says, "So, uh… Why...you fall?"
"What?" Clyde hisses, barely managing to conceal laughter. Craig flips him off and covers his face with both hands, wanting to scream in frustration and humiliation.
Tweek, who had been too busy wanting to sink through the booth into the floor, hadn't even heard Craig's question. He reluctantly drags himself back into a sitting position so he can have another drink of coffee from his thermos.
"I promise," Kenny is saying to Ferrari, who has her arms crossed and is looking completely disinterested. "There's nothing going on between me and Tweek." He reaches out to touch Ferrari's arm but she steps back, out of reach.
"Mercedes and the girls warned me about you," she says. "They said you're just a commitment-phobic player, and you know what, I think I believe them. I knew there was a reason I said no to you for two months." She turns to leave. "I think I'm going to go home."
"Hey, Ferrari, no, wait." Kenny hops up from the booth and waves towards a table further into the restaurant. "Come on, let's just go sit over there and talk for a minute, let me explain." He shoots Tweek a wink and a barely noticeable shake of his blond hair, some silent reassurance that he's not going to betray Tweek's secret just to keep his date.
Ferrari looks to the ceiling, as if for guidance, before letting out a heavy sigh. "Ten minutes," she says.
"I just need five." Kenny extends his arm in an 'after you' kind of gesture, saluting everyone else at the table before following as Ferrari stalks past him.
"Wow," Nichole says in surprise, looking after the two of them. "He's sure working hard to snag her."
"Yeah," Token agrees, elbowing Clyde so that he'll move, and sliding over so his girlfriend can sit down with them. "So you were saying about your dance meeting?"
"Oh my gosh." Nichole rolls her eyes. "Okay, so you know there's the Halloween dance in two weeks, right?"
"Yeah!" Clyde exclaims, nodding enthusiastically. "Did you ask Lola if she'll go with me?"
Nichole shakes her head. "Clyde, no, I told you, you have to ask her yourself." As Clyde pouts, she continues, "So we're in the gym today testing our sound system, right? And Cartman shows up."
All four of the guys at the table emit the same kind of sympathetic groan, knowing that Cartman crashing a meeting of the girls' can never end well.
"He just shoves right past everyone and like, hooks up some microphone to our sound system, and starts singing." Nichole cringes at the memory and Token puts his arm around her shoulders. "Oh my gosh, I'd almost wish you guys had heard it if it wasn't so terrible."
"Was he protesting something about the dance?" Token asks, morbid curiosity forcing him to ask the question.
Nichole shakes her head. "No, that's the worst part. He was singing to Heidi, because you know she broke up with him again, right? It was seriously the worst thing I've ever heard in my life." She shudders, and even Craig feels sympathy for her. "And this goes on for like, five minutes, right, and he's like, trying to chase her around so he can sing right to her face. And then he trips on the microphone cord or his own dumb feet or something, and crashes right into the whole sound system."
Token winces. "Did he break it?"
"Oh yeah," Nichole affirms. "It's toast. So luckily, Ferrari's on our dance committee, and she said she could probably convince the Raisinettes to perform for cheap, so we came here to ask." She leans her head on Token's shoulder. "I didn't know you were going to be here."
"Yeah, it was kind of a last-minute thing," Token says. "I thought you were busy all night or I would've told you."
"Oh, yeah, it's fine," Nichole says. "Did you guys order already?"
"Yeah, just before you got here." Token cranes his neck. "If you can find Sierra, you can probably get her to add something to our bill for you, if that's okay with Tweek – he offered to pay tonight."
"Wait," Clyde says, interjecting before Tweek can answer. "Did you say you're getting the Raisinettes to play our dance?"
Nichole nods. "Yeah, Mercedes just said–"
"Oh my God, you guys!" Clyde looks so happy he could cry. "Do you understand how huge this is?" He drums on the top of the table excitedly. "The Raisinettes! Do you know who they are?"
"Waitresses," Craig says, deadpan. Clyde huffs in indignation.
"Not just waitresses! My five favorite waitresses!" He holds up a hand. "Mercedes, Porsche, Lexus, Ferrari, and Sierra!"
"Don't they all hate you?" Token says before Craig has the chance to ask the exact same thing.
Clyde waves his hand dismissively. "They don't hate me, they just can't show off how much they really love me in public."
Before anyone at the table can even attempt to convince Clyde of the absurdity of his statement, a loud screech of, "Fuck you!" echoes throughout the restaurant, followed by the unmistakable sound of a slap. A second or two later, Kenny ducks past the booth, calling, "Sorry guys, time to go!" as he passes, Ferrari hot on his heels with murder in her eyes.
"Oh, God, what now," Token mutters.
Sierra saunters past, smirking. "You guys might want to leave, too." To Clyde, she adds, "The kitchen found out you were here, and they are not happy about it."
"Aw, man," Clyde whines. "But I'm hungry."
"We can just go back to my house," Token says as he and Nichole slide out of the booth. "By the way," he adds as Clyde reluctantly follows. "I believe I bet we'd get kicked out?" He holds out a hand.
"Douchebag," Clyde grumbles as he pulls his previously-won twenty out of his back pocket and returns it to Token. "I still might get that back."
"I don't know, Ferrari looked pretty pissed." Token shrugs. "She really might kill him." He looks at the twenty in his hand for a second before sighing and tossing it onto the table. Clyde makes a sputtering sound and Token rolls his eyes. "If we don't tip, you don't get to come back."
Tweek is standing beside the booth, having been the first one to jump up when Kenny sprinted past. He's clutching his thermos with shaking hands, looking nervously around, and Craig feels a sudden urge to hug him. But that would be really fuckin' weird to do out of nowhere, especially considering Craig has never hugged any one of his friends in, oh, ever. He is the last to exit the booth, following after Clyde as the five of them head for the door of Raisins.
"Have a good night, cutie!" Sierra calls after him. Craig lifts his arm a little, just happy to be getting the fuck out of the restaurant.
Outside, Kenny is nowhere to be seen, but Ferrari is pacing the sidewalk furiously. Nichole looks at Token.
"I think I'm going to walk her home," she says. "I'll see if I can calm her down."
"Okay," Token says, giving her a hug and a kiss goodbye. "I'll see you in school tomorrow."
"Bye, guys." Nichole walks over to Ferrari and says something quietly to her, and then the two girls start walking away down the street to the right.
After they're out of sight, Token says, "Okay, she's gone."
Kenny tumbles out of one of the newspaper boxes in front of Raisins, managing to execute a somersault and pop right back up to his feet. Dusting off his clothes, he says, "Well, she's pissed."
"What did you do?" Clyde asks in awe. "She looked like she was gonna rip your head off." He taps Token's shoulder. "Hey! She didn't kill Kenny! That means I win!"
Token rolls his eyes, but concedes, handing Clyde another twenty as Kenny shrugs.
"She's just determined not to trust me," he says, his eyes betraying the sadness that his grin tries to conceal.
"I'm sorry!" Tweek shivers as the wind picks up, the icy air chilling him to his bones. He looks wistfully at Token's cozy-looking sweater, Clyde's long-sleeved red shirt, and Craig's black-as-night hoodie, and regrets not wearing some kind of jacket tonight. "It's my fault!"
"Tweeky, no," Kenny says, shaking his head, appearing entirely unaffected by the cold even though all he's got on is a t-shirt, just like Tweek. "Those other girls have been talking shit about me to her for months, it's not on you."
Tweek opens his mouth to protest, but shivers again instead, nearly dropping his thermos. "Jesus!" he can't help but yelp. Seventeen years he's lived in South Park, and he's still not sure he'll ever get used to the cold.
"Cold, Tweek?" Clyde asks, nodding in sympathy. "October sucks." He looks slyly at Craig, who's been standing silently this entire time. "Craig, you're the only one of us with a jacket on, why don't you help a bro out?"
Craig slowly turns his head, trying to formulate a way to kill Clyde without actually killing Clyde. "What?" he says, stalling for time, trying to keep his voice even and not let the butterflies materializing in his stomach escape out of his mouth.
Clyde shrugs. "I'm just saying, you have long sleeves on under that, don't you?"
Craig opens his mouth. "I, uh…"
"It's okay!" Kenny says, moving to throw his arm over Tweek's shoulders. "I can keep him warm."
In the blink of an eye, Craig has unzipped his hoodie and ripped it off of his body; holding it out to Tweek he mutters, "Uh, here."
"Oh," Tweek squeaks, reaching out to take it. He holds it awkwardly in his hands for a second. "Thanks."
Kenny laughs. "I think you have to put it on for it to work," he says, grabbing the hoodie from Tweek and slipping it onto his body for him. "Huh, for some reason I thought it would be bigger on you."
"What are you saying, McCormick?" Craig demands, relief flooding him as he finally finds a legitimate reason to be snarky towards Kenny without arousing suspicion.
Kenny holds up both hands. "Nothing, relax, just that I didn't realize you guys had such similar builds, that's all."
A loud growling sound fills the air and Tweek jumps. "Is that a bear?!"
"Uh." Clyde raises his hand, then points sheepishly to his stomach. "I told you guys, I'm hungry."
"Come on, then," Token says. "Are you all coming over or…?"
Tweek shakes his head no. "I should get home," he says. "I still have some homework to finish."
"I'll walk you," Kenny says, reaching down and zipping up Craig's hoodie around Tweek. "Can't be too careful in downtown South Park at–" He looks up at the sky, which is just starting to dim slightly. "–dusk."
"Craig, you coming?" Token raises an eyebrow. Craig doesn't particularly want to, but, realizing that this is actually a good opportunity to yell at Clyde for getting him into this bullshit situation, he sighs.
"Yeah," he says, the word coming out in a puff of air, visible in the cold. "You can just uh, give me back my hoodie tomorrow, Tweek." It's the first time he's said Tweek's name all day and doing so gives him a nearly-uncontrollable urge to grin.
"Okay," Tweek says, smiling at him. It's not one of the rare smiles, but it makes Craig's heart melt all the same.
"Until tomorrow, me hearties," Kenny says, falling back into pirate speak. He and Tweek head down the street, Kenny linking their arms together, while the other three begin walking in the opposite direction, towards Token's house.
It isn't until the trio walks through Token's front door that Craig remembers that the girls' original list had been in the pocket of his hoodie.
Fuck.
Reasons Cartman Definitely Wants to Bone Kyle (in no particular order)
1. He made a fucking contract to get him to suck his balls
2. Nobody is that obsessed with someone for no reason
3. He always goes to Kyle first for help
4. There's a fine line between love and hate
5. He was miserable when Kyle moved to San Francisco…
6. ...and only cheered up when he mysteriously moved back
7. He said he was going to get Kyle's name tattooed on him to remember how much he hates him
8. He gave Kyle HIV so they could suffer together, like what kind of Romeo and Juliet shit is that
