South Park © Matt & Trey.
Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone celebrating~
I don't know why, but suddenly I'm feeling overwhelmed. "Craig, s'that you?" I murmur, feeling pathetically hopeful and I'm not entirely sure why. I'd probably be better off if this was Stan… Or Kyle, but I doubt Kyle could lift me. He's too small.
"Hang on," he says as I ride on his back. "If you fall off and die… it won't be my fault."
I wrap my arms around his neck and press my face into his shoulder. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water. I'm really not really sure why. Maybe it's because I'm completely embarrassed. Maybe Kenny McCormick is just the sad drunk tonight. It always varies. I guess it all depends on how the day goes. Tonight kind of sucked.
"Hey, are you crying on me?"
I shake my head against him. "No," I say in a wet voice, and that gives it all away. He lets out a quiet sigh, but says nothing more. I guess I can't expect him to.
I wake up around 4 in the morning and hear my parents arguing. I still feel drunk, but not as sick. I'll probably need to hurl again in a few hours, though. I get out of bed and carefully make my way downstairs without thinking. I hold onto the railings for dear life, trying hard not to trip.
I can hear my parents talking as I hover in the doorway. "Kenny?" my dad is the first one to notice me.
"Yeah," I mumble, moving towards them.
My mom turns to face me. "Do you remember how you got home?" she asks.
"Did someone bring me here?" I ask, not quite sure. The memory is hazy.
"Yes, honey, someone brought you home…" she sighs. "Baby, you can't do things like that… You weren't even coherent. We tried to talk to you and couldn't make sense of a damn thing you said. You're lucky no one tried to hurt you."
"I know."
"How are you feeling now?"
"Drunk," I admit.
"I'm not surprised," she shakes her head.
"What were you guys arguing about?" I ask, crossing my arms as I change the subject.
"Nothing you need to worry about," my dad cuts in.
"Was it me?" I frown, feeling bitter.
"No," they both answer in unison but I can tell they're lying.
"I'm not going to end up like Kevin!" I raise my voice. "You don't need to keep freaking out about it!"
"After tonight," Mom starts, "I'm not so sure."
"You guys are so fucking hypocritical," I laugh in disbelief.
"Sh," she hushes me. "Karen is asleep, and so is your friend."
"Who?"
"The Tucker boy."
I raise an eyebrow. "Craig? He brought me home…?" I ask quietly.
"He did and it was damn nice of him," Mom says. "He carried you all the way here with his jacket covered in your vomit, so I insisted he stay the night while we wash it. It was too late for him to be walking home."
"I'm sorry…" I say sincerely.
My mother just shakes her head, giving me a sympathetic look. She touches my cheek and says, "You should get a glass of water and try to sleep some more. Tomorrow is another day."
I nod at her before sparing my Dad a glance, before doing as she says. "Goodnight." I turn away and walk back upstairs without as much as another word. When I'm back in my room, I notice something I hadn't before I went downstairs. Craig. "Are you awake?" I ask. He doesn't answer, but I can hear him breathing. "Your breathing is uneven… I know you're awake," I deadpan.
I hear him let out a sigh before opening his eyes. "Are you done fighting with your parents?"
"Yes," I bite out, lying down next to him.
"They're angry," he states. It's not a question.
"They don't want me to turn into Kevin."
"What happened to Kevin?" he asks.
"He's just a bad guy in general," I start. "He's been arrested a bunch of times and he's only twenty-two."
"That sucks."
"No shit," I say coldly.
He rolls over, facing me but not speaking.
"You know," I suddenly begin, "There's a difference between being an introvert and being an antisocial faggot."
"What?" Craig asks quietly.
"You heard me." Instead of answering, he shuts his eyes and rolls back around, leaving me to stare at his back. "Asshole," I mumble when he ignores me.
I wake up again around 2PM and there's no sign Craig was even here. Obviously. He probably went home as soon as he could. Oh, well. Boy, did I ever sleep in. I have a wicked headache and my stomach feels like there's an army trying to get out and they're all slowing climbing up my throat. I race to the bathroom and dump my guts out in the sink.
"Kenny?" asks an airy voice and I don't have to turn around to know it's Karen.
"It's fine, Kare…" I say, "Go."
"Do you want anything?" she offers.
I spit in the sink a bit before wiping my mouth. "Tylenol and a glass of water." She nods, leaving. I rinse out the sink, washing away the evidence. God, this sucks. I'm not drinking again for a while, that's for sure. When Karen returns, she sets a glass down and hands me to little pills. "Thanks," I mutter before downing them.
"Sip slowly," she suggests, "and then lay back down."
"I know," I chuckle somewhat sadly. "I've done this before."
She nods sympathetically. "Yeah…" That's how she knows, too.
"I'm really sorry, Kare," I say.
"Don't worry about it, Kenny. You didn't do anything wrong. When you're in bed, I'll fetch a cold cloth for your forehead."
"Okay," I force a smile. "I'll go lay down now." I walk past her and back into my room. I take off my jeans from last night along with my sweater before crawling back into bed. I close my eyes and try to think about things. Sometimes, when I'm trying to sleep, I create scenarios in my head. It's fun, and it always helps me fall asleep pretty quickly. I feel the Tylenol setting in as Karen saunters into my room to place a cold cloth on my forehead.
"Thanks," I mumble.
"Feel better," she whispers.
I wake up yet again around 9PM and I'm careful not to exert myself. Hangovers are the worst. I take it easy and munch on a couple crackers. Karen's idea. "Was the party at least fun?" she asks.
"Oh, yeah," I lie. It wasn't that much fun, but that's my own damn fault for being an idiot. "I was kind of a dick to Craig, though… I was frustrated, I guess. I'll apologize later on. He isn't sensitive, so he probably doesn't even care, but still."
"He probably cares," she says softly.
"You think?"
"Probably," she repeats, smiling slightly. "Some people just don't know how to show that they care. It's easier to act cold."
"I guess."
"So," Karen starts, "What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?"
"I have no idea," I say. "I'll probably just chill out… All I know is that I'm not drinking again for a long time."
"Good," she chuckles.
On Sunday, I decide I'm feeling decent enough to walk to Craig's place. When I knock at the door, Ruby answers it and I can tell she isn't too happy to see me back at her house. "Hey," I hold up my hand after a moment of silence.
"Craig isn't awake," she states.
"He's still sleeping?"
"Yeah."
"Can I wait for him?"
"Fine," she says tersely. She opens the door, allowing me inside. "You can go upstairs, but be quiet. He'll be cranky if you wake him up."
"Okay," I say, tip toeing up the stairs and into his bedroom.
The door creaks open and I slowly close it behind me. The room is dark and quiet. All I can hear is Craig's soft and even breathing. I approach his bedside and stare down at him. He is lying on his back in the center of the mattress, holding a fistful of the blanket to his chest. His lips are slightly parted and he's kinda drooling, but he looks… weirdly fucking cute. I wonder if he's dreaming, and if so, what he's dreaming of. I lay down next to him, uncomfortably squeezing on the small space he isn't taking up while I wait for him to open his eyes. It's almost noon. He should hurry up or he'll waste the day. I'm tempted to wake him up, but I don't want to invoke his wrath. Ruby definitely scared me against the idea.
What could be mere seconds later, or an hour later, Craig shifts and his eyes slowly open. "Awake?" I ask, sitting up and staring down at him.
He looks bleary for a split second until reality dawns upon him. "Holy fuck!" he shouts in horror, jumping backwards off the bed.
I gape before breaking out in laughter. "That was quite the reaction."
"God!" he yells, looking up at me. "You scared the shit out of me…"
"Did I? Mission accomplished," I grin and he stands up, scowling. "You're really fucking cute when you sleep," I comment.
"Shut up," he mutters, rubbing his eyes. "You're creepy."
I chuckle, rolling into the center of his bed. "You take up a lot of space when you sleep. It must be damn uncomfortable sharing a bed." That's probably why he said he has such a hard time sleeping in beds that aren't his own.
"It is…" he mumbles. "What time is it?"
"Almost twelve."
"Oh."
"Do you always sleep in this late?" I ask.
"That's what my weekends are for. Sometimes I'll sleep until 2PM."
"That's so boring."
"Yup."
"Just the way you like it?" I venture.
"Just the way I like it."
I nod, somewhat humoured. "So, hey, I wanted to thank you for bringing me home on Friday night."
"Yeah… it's fine."
"I'm grateful, seriously. I know I didn't really act it, but…" I trail off, shrugging.
"It's fine," he says again.
"I hope I wasn't too difficult."
"You tried to take your clothes off," he starts, sitting back down on his bed. "I didn't let you…"
"Again, thanks," I mumble, somewhat tersely. "I often wake up naked. Drunk or not, it's a fairly normal occurrence. Sometimes I kick my pants off in my sleep."
"Oh."
"Sorry for being a dick."
"It's fine," he says for a third time, "I don't care."
"All right."
There's a pause –
"So. You fucked a teacher," he states. I was waiting for him to bring that up.
"I don't really want to talk about it," I say. "Not one of my proudest moments."
"You don't seem to have any proud moments," he mumbles. "How did a thing like that even happen?"
"I told you…" I sigh. "I don't want to talk about it. It's like how you don't want to talk about all the marks on your stomach."
"Fine…" he backs off.
"But… just so you know, if you ever do want to talk about that, I'm here to listen," I offer.
"Right," he murmurs. I watch as he places a hand on his clothed abdomen. The gesture looks almost unconscious.
"Where are your parents?" I ask. "Ruby answered the door when I got here."
"They're at work…" he says. "When did you get here?"
"Not too long ago."
"And you just watched me sleep?"
"Yeah," I laugh. "Ruby warned me not to wake you up. She said you get cranky."
"I don't get cranky," he insists.
"Sure, sure," I say dismissively.
"I don't," he repeats.
"Okay, okay."
"Was there anything else you needed?" he asks.
"No… but since I'm here, let's hang out."
"Hang out," he states. "By that, do you mean fuck?"
"Weeell," I shrug. "We can do that, if you want."
He lies back down. "I don't feel like it," he yawns. "I'm too tired."
"Then how about I blow you."
He raises an eyebrow. "You're fucking gay."
"Nah, that's you," I give him what probably looks like a pretty lecherous grin. "So, how about it?"
"Fine," he says. "Go for it."
I get up and reposition myself between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants down below his hipbones. I reach forward experimentally, touching him the way I'd touch myself. I feel him grow hard in my hand. I've never blown a dude before; unless you count that one time I gave a hummer to a certain radio personality… But even after that, I got curious. I mean, I'm sure lots of guys get curious and when you get it on your hand while you're jerking off… It's tempting.
"Feels good…" Craig murmurs, closing his eyes.
Well, that's all the encouragement I need. I stick out my tongue and lick the shaft before taking the whole damn thing in my mouth, determined not to accidentally use teeth. From a lot of firsthand experiences, I know that the fear of castration is definitely not pleasant. But I've received enough blowjobs to know what feels good.
I put my hands on Craig's twitchy hips as he lets out a quiet moan. I kinda like having this sort of control over him. The reaction is the best part.
Craig gives no warning and I have to force back a choking noise when I feel his spooge shoot down my throat. Jesus Christ. Now I know why they call it a blowjob. The actors in porn make that shit look easy. Well, I guess this is another thing I can cross off of my bucket list. It's kind of ironic to call it a bucket list, but whatever.
"How'd it taste?" Craig asks, pulling his pants back over his hips.
"Not awesome, but tolerable," I shrug. "When do you think you'll come out?" I ask, flopping down next to him.
"When I'm in a relationship," he says. "Until then… there's no need to say it. It isn't really anyone's business but my own."
"I guess that's true."
Even though he says that, I still think the larger part of him is scared of the reactions he'll get. I guess I don't really blame him. When Kyle came out, he got hell for it. Mostly thanks to Eric's homophobic rants. Things smoothed over once kids got tired of teasing him and something better came along, but still… It didn't look like fun. Then again, maybe it'll be different for Craig because so many kids are scared of him.
"What time is it now?" he asks.
I take my cellphone out of my pocket. "It's twelve nineteen."
He sits up, still looking tired.
"You getting up now?"
"Yeah, I'm awake enough." He stands and wanders towards the door. "Coming?"
I follow him to his feet and downstairs, where Ruby is looking sour as ever. She has her arms crossed and she's looking at me as if she knows exactly what I just did. God, how unsettling and awkward.
"What's with you?" Craig asks his sister.
"Nothing, you boob," she says from her seat on the sofa.
"We're going to be in here…" he trails off.
"Fine," she stands up and stomps upstairs.
"What's wrong with her?" I ask once she's gone.
"She's a brat," Craig says offhandedly. "I'm gonna eat. Do you want anything?"
"I'm good."
He turns the television on and tosses me the remote before walking into the kitchen. I aimless flick through channels until Craig returns.
"Here," he says, handing me a banana.
"What's this?" I ask, taking it.
"A banana…"
"I know that, smart ass." I shake my head.
"I know you're hungry."
"How?" I raise an eyebrow, peeling the banana.
He just shrugs, sitting down next to me. I smile deviously before suggestively licking the banana. Craig looks mildly humored before shaking his head at me. A moment later he takes a particularly sharp and quick bite out of his own banana, causing me to cringe.