A/N: Another story update. Go, me, go.

Craig still remains my fav character in the series. I don't know. I think I can relate to him best, mostly because I'm pretty dogmatic myself.

But whatevs~

Enjoy.

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Even the way he eats, I find myself able to romanticize it. Actually, I'm pretty sure he must be retarded if he hasn't noticed the amount of attention I'm paying to his mouth while I attempt to occupy my own in various ways, such as.. well, chewing. I don't get why he has to be so... good looking. Delicious, if you will, though he's not much of a food. More of a candy of the eye, if you get what I mean.

He doesn't have the grace to take his hat off at the table but I don't mind; I can pick out those red curls even from across our two-seater and he busies himself politely with his chicken dish thing that I don't remember the exact name of. On a normal day I would have it written down but I'm not about to pull out a piece of paper and start writing down his meal plan right under his nose.

He's glancing at me and he's looking irritated. Yep, here it comes.

"Are you gonna eat at all?"

"It's hot."

"Well you do look a little flustered."

I present him with my middle finger as his sass and he rolls his eyes, probably wondering why he'd ever agreed to this. I'm growing on him, though. I know I am. I have to be; there's no way he'd spend this much time with me out of politeness. He may have manners but the red head in front of me is a little firecracker and I know he'd readily punch my lights out if he felt the need to.

I'm bigger than him, though.

Taking a shot in the dark I knock my foot forward, bumping it against his shin. His shoulders jerk up from the obvious sting and he glares at me a moment, and I raise my eyebrows with a feigned innocence that makes him scowl. There's a number of things I'd like to do to that scowl. In the last few hours though I'm pretty sure I've hooked at least most of his expressions, with the exception of, maybe, a sex face or a smile. But you never know, sometimes people's sex faces look the same as their embarrassed faces. Why I'm even consulting this over the dinner table is questionable, but as he lifts a piece of chicken to his mouth I kick his shin again and a tight noise escapes his throat as the piece of meat drops to his plate as he jerks forward.

"Would you fucking stop?"

I just smirk and kick him again.

His foot connects with my chair's leg in seconds as I forecast the sing and he cusses even louder, gripping his foot under the table as I look on triumphantly. A piece of me should probably feel bad for bringing harm to the object of my infatuation but he technically brought that one upon himself. He glares at me over the food finally, and I lean back in my seat with my arms folded across my chest.

"What is your fucking problem, dude? I don't get you at all."

"I have no problem." Unless you account undressing your classmates with your eyes a problem. "What're you so pissed for all the time?"

"Dude, you're kicking me under the fucking table like you have a tick. I think I have a little bit of a reason to get pissed off about that."

"Don't worry, the swim team won't judge."

The way he's looking at me honestly flies right into my pants. Maybe I get off on being hated, who knows, but he's glaring Jew-daggers and I am becoming totally not against just jumping his bones right here.

"I'm leaving."

His chair slides back with a grind and he digs into his bag, pulling out a ten dollar note and sticking it onto the table to pay for his half of the bill when abruptly our waitress bumps into him, and he stares at her as she smiles.

"Hey, ho-on. Where you off to? Y'can't seriously be leavin' us already, can you?" Her valley girl accent could have killed me but I'm not the openly laughing type.

Kyle looks so conflicted it's almost got me in stitches though, and he frowns as she escorts him back to his seat and leans down to press plump glossed lips to his cheek. The way his eye twitches puts me over the edge and I lean down to sip my drink before I spittle with laughter.

"I... please don't touch me," he says finally, still maintaining enough of his polite nature to fend her off without insulting her as she laughs at a pitch that hurts even my ears.

"Alright there dollface, you jus' keep yourself happy then, alright? If you need anythin', doll, you jus' call me up and I'll get you anything you darn well want."

She wanders away busily and my eyes glide back to Kyle, who's looking uncomfortable. He stares at his chicken for a moment before back up at me, until he finally goes to pierce his food with his fork.

"You're totally a fag, aren't you, Broflovski?"

The chicken goes flying again as he stares up at me with wide eyes. Damn, I hope that's his sex face.

"What?"

"I said you're fucking gay. You didn't even look at her tits."

"You know, there is public etiquette. It does exist."

"Who gives a fuck? You're a guy."

He falls silent and stares at me before setting down his glass and casting his eyes after her, as though contemplating his own sexuality. In turn I lean back with my coke still at hand and take a side-of-the-mouth sip with my hat sliding over my eyes. He sighs and then rests his mouth in his palm with his elbow on the table as he grabs his drink, looking defeated.

I smirk. "I knew it."

"You're not the first, jackass."

"Well it's no shock you and your friends are all fags, you're practically blowing eachother all the time."

"I hate you, Craig. It's just me, that I know of. Kenny isn't gay. He willingly fucks whatever gives him the opportunity."

I fight back the urge to say 'I know' in the most suggestive of ways, mostly because I'm trying to bed the red head and not gross him out.

Much.

"So, are you a virgin?"

His expressions of horror just get more and more priceless every time.