A/N; we are so just gonna pretend I uploaded this on time, kay?

Oh my god, I finished a fanfic with more than one chapter :O Celebrate with me.

I thought this was gonna be about three thousand words, but it's at least double that... And just in case you get the wrong idea, I don't hate Stan, but craig does, sooo...

Enjoy!

The first realisation to hit him was that it was warm. Judging by the cloth surrounding him he was back in his bed, but he didn't want to open his eyes to find out. Just in case he'd died, or something.

The second realisation that came to him was that it must, finally, be Christmas day. If he was still good to go, that was, and the spirits hadn't enslaved his soul for no apparent reason. Even he had to admit that was a little unlikely, seeing as one of the spirits had been Kenny.

The third realisation came along a few minutes later, as he was scanning through all that had happened in his head. He was curled up on his side, a blanket having made its way over his face. It was really difficult to concentrate, he would think through one scene with his Grandma, or a conversation he'd witnessed with Kenny, but be lead off within his head to anther situation, stem off on a thought of what was going on and what it all meant, and be stuck trying to remember what he'd originally been thinking of.

He'd managed to concentrate long enough to focus on that final vision featuring Tweek speaking with Damien when the thought hit him.

There had been two deaths his- he hesitated slightly before using the word- friends had been affected by. Pip's and, judging by the conversations held by the Goth children along with the words on his grave (which was disappointingly plain, he'd have to complain about that in later life), his own were the deaths being discussed. And then, before he could stop himself, he remembered Tweek comparing the two of them to Pip and Damien's relationship.

He brought his hands up to his face, to cover up his burning cheeks. He still had a face then. That was always encouraging.

What did Tweek's little half confession mean though? He pushed against his eyelids. Being who he was he couldn't be bothered going through the whole "does he, doesn't he" girly crap. He'd probably just walk up to Tweek a little later and declare the two of them elope to France. The thought made him wince and giggle at the same time. That probably wouldn't end well, Craig hated French people and Tweek hated travel. Plus neither ever paid attention in French class.

Craig opened his eyes for around the fifth time that night, slowly this time, enjoying the pleasant way he now viewed the world. He found the stars shining from the gap in his curtains enchanting, the soft pressure from the bed sheets around him was supple and comforting, and as for the-

No.

Was that really how he had to act if he wanted to be nice? No way. It wasn't happening. Unless he was to vomit over the general populace every few minutes, he was not in any way going to loose any part of his sarcasm. He sat forward and rubbed at his glabellum and temples. He was so taking this one step at a time, in baby steps, as it were. No matter how Christmas carol-y his life was getting, it wasn't exactly some stupid film montage.

His eyes shot open as he sat up straight. His film storyboards! He had to find them!

It was four-thirty in the morning, but he felt fairly well rested as he darted around his bedroom, clearing out his half empty closet and emptying his desk draws. He was impressed by his concern for his sister and mothers sleep pattern as he cluttered around. He reasoned how awake he felt now was down to the sleep he'd been getting in between each 'chapter', as it were, and eventually found the old, scrappy barely held together notebooks hidden away at the back of his sock draw.

He spent around an hour flicking though them, flicking through each book, grinning to himself and occasionally laughing when the plotline got too ridiculous for even him to handle. At one point he pulled a pen out from the inside of his bag and added to a couple of the more unfinished pages.

Once he'd gone through all of them he piled them up and carefully placed them on his desk in a neat rectangular box shape in front of his chair.

He looked about his now messy room, and began to put away the objects and clothes strewn about his floor neatly. He was at a slight loss of what to do, not just for now or for the day, but for general, in life. He doubted he could waltz into Stan's house, or wherever it was he'd been shown last night, without being kicked out. Maybe Kenny would bring him in. Craig bit his lip. It did seem that being mean to people had a few disadvantages then.

He thought of his family as he refolded his clothes. They were still quiet and sleeping, meaning his running around hadn't disrupted ether of them. He wondered if he could spend the day with them, but was struck with a general feeling of shyness.

For one he would have no idea what to say to any of them, and that made it fairly clear that they, too would probably not have a clue of what to say to him. That didn't seem very Christmassy to Craig. And besides, if he did something nice for them, there would still be his father sat, getting drunk in Denver. What could he do for that prick?

He sighed heavily and shut his eyes, leaning up against the wardrobe, resting his forehead against his hand.

That had sounded like old Craig, filled with excuses and reasoning, but not helping anyone in the slightest. He tried to think of a way around that, but he really did feel awkward about the idea of spending time with his family. Were there any other ways to be nice without showing his face?

He could think of one way, but it involved parting with his beloved money. However, he found as he was placing the last of his clothes away and shutting his cupboard door, that didn't really sound so terrible anymore.

He walked out of his room and took a quick shower, dressing in completely new clothes and grabbing some pop-tarts as he left the house. It was just gone six in the morning and he had no idea whether there would be any shops open other than convenience stores and petrol stations, but he'd have to make do with what he could find.

Baby steps.

It was a little closer to eight-thirty once he arrived back at his house. He'd been right about the amount of shops that were open today, and had almost been reduced to buying his mother vegetables for her Christmas present before he managed to track down a small family run shop that had braved to be open on Christmas morning and he'd been able to pick up a few nice things which he now sat in his living room and wrapped.

He could honestly say that he was a total disaster with wrapping paper. No matter how hard he tried to manipulate the gifts, paper and tape into those nice, attractive box-shaped packages always being shown off in films and family albums, it just was not happening. For starters the paper wouldn't stay folded into place. By the time he managed to work out how to hold the paper and stick it down without loosing both hands to the scissors the tape had mutated into a mad wheel of no longer sticky plastic. Craig glowered at it and threw away the misshaped ball of crumpled gift paper and cursed the moment he'd chosen not to use gift bags.

How did people do this every year? It was ridiculous. Just looking at the presents made him think of the wrapping paper again, which ultimately left him filled with rage. He took a deep breath and tried to think of alternatives. There were gift bags in the guest room- which had been his parents room until Craig's father left, at which point his mother chose to move into the study and redecorate the room into a guest room- and they would just make do with one of those.

At least they looked half presentable in the second hand gift bags, a little ribbon tied around the handles that was more just for the sake of keeping the bags shut, but he supposed that the bow he'd made was quite nice. He pushed them under the tree and surveyed his work. There was a card each too, his sisters making the deal that if she wasn't a brat this year he'd buy her the phone she wanted for her birthday.

He could hear movement from upstairs, and at the sound of Ruby calling a "happy Christmas" to their mother he snuck towards the door to leave. He couldn't stop the small smile on his lips though.

"Craig?" damnit, he was so close to leaving and not being rude today. He turned and saw his mother at the top of the stairs, her hair loose and mussed up over her dressing gown and nightdress.

"Mhm?" she rubbed at her eyes and stifled a yawn.

"You're out for the day?" he nodded. Behind her Craig could hear Ruby whooping at the magic being revealed from this years stocking. "Okay then, have a nice day."

"Mum," He blurted out before she could leave him. She turned back, almost expectantly, and maybe even a little hopeful. He sighed, very lightly. "Happy Christmas."

She smiled down at him, and he was fairly sure it was the same smile his grandma had shown him many times, and the same smile he got when he saw Tweek.

"Merry Christmas."

He smiled bashfully at the floor and opened the front door.

"Oh, and tell the brat," he motioned towards Ruby's cries of joy "I said hi." His mum nodded and waved over her shoulder. He left the house, feeling relief over his nerves. It struck him that that was probably the first time he'd been nice in a few years.

Now for the last challenge before he'd taken care of the family matter this year.

He pulled his phone from the denim pocket of his jeans and pushed at it, growing a little irritated when it froze and occasionally refused to acknowledge his touch. He couldn't have just bought a new one when this one started screwing up on him, could he?

Eventually the command went through and he took a deep breath, insisting he stay calm throughout the duration of this call. He didn't entirely know why he was doing this.

"Hello?" the voice was groggy and disgruntled, but Craig recognised it though they hadn't spoken in a long time.

"Hi," He had to pause before the next word "…. Dad."

He felt funny after the conversation. Treating his…. Dad like they were…. Well, maybe not buddies, but at least on speaking terms, was definitely new.

Okay, so if he thought about it he hadn't exactly been nice, but he was at least civil. Like dealing with a business client, or some such interesting thing.

He'd instructed his dad to drive down to South Park with presents- if there were any- and apologies. Again, assuming there were any. The call hadn't been long, just a little half-rant from Craig, completed by the "kay" from his father at the end. Craig was now totally happy to move on with his life.

Except for the part where he had no idea what to do right now.

He continued to wonder through and around South Park, looking for inspiration. The town was as pretty as ever, but that only lead to artistic inspiration, which he wasn't all that accustomed to. Maybe he could by a pad of paper and note down some film ideas for several hours at Stark's pond or something.

Nah. He wished he had his ipod with him, but the thought of listening to the same soundtrack he'd been listening to for the last few years made his stomach turn a little.

He sighed to complete the overly dramatic-ness of shoving his fists into his pockets. What did people do when they weren't watching Red Racer?

He wasn't paying attention to the blur of purple walking towards him, and so nearly walked into her. As it was they did bump into each other, but he had begun to side step her, so really it was entirely her fault.

"Oft," the wind was knocked out of both of them, but she caught her breath first, apologising over and over.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- Sorry! Oh-" Craig nearly rolled his eyes as she caught herself. "Hi Craig…."

"Wendy," He nodded in her general direction and her ace coloured over. He wondered if she was embarrassed at having hit into him of all people or was preparing herself to be insulted. They stood for a few moments in awkward silence before he sighed, rubbing at the hair hidden by the back of his hat as he attempted something new. "Where's the fire?"

She fixed him with a look that purely spoke 'is-this-Craig-Tucker-I'm-talking-to-or-has-one-of-us-suddenly-turned-retarded?'. There was a little hint of shock in there too.

"What? I'm in a good mood."

There was the look again. He fixed her with his own stare of "The-hell-are-you-gonna-do-about-it?" and began a stare down.

He won.

"It's nothing," she sighed "My family are just…. We were out walking, we do that, it's kind of like-"

'Yeah, yeah, family thing I wouldn't geddit, go on,' he didn't really get why he wanted to hear her whining. Maybe he'd figured that if he could put up with Wendy, one of the more annoying people in his life, he was good to go with all of the people who were annoying at a regular level.

"Yeah okay, so, we were on this walk and I mentioned that I'd broken up with Stan and that we were just gonna be friends now," her pace had picked up a little, and Craig wondered briefly if this was what it was like to be Bebe or Kenny, and if so, how did they deal with it? "But like, my mum was kind of, not really paying attention, so I like, told her again. But she was all, "I heard you the first time, honey", and I asked why she hadn't said anything, and she just told me that she didn't need t worry about me and Stan-" Craig's mind was distracted at this point as his thoughts were caught up on whether it should be "Stan and I" or just "Stan and me". He settled on "I don't really care" and realised he was still supposed to be paying attention. "- so I told her that I didn't want to spend all my life with Stan, and maybe there might be some else that I like. And then she just laughed! I couldn't believe it, and she told me that I could go for other guys but there was pretty much a guarantee that I would marry Stan and- Ugh! I just lost it and left."

Craig raised his eyebrows at her. She blushed and her eyes widened. She was clearly realising how much of her guts she'd spilt out.

"Sorry," Wendy tried to laugh it off as though she hadn't said anything "I guess I just needed someone to whine at."

"Wendy."

"My, would you look at the time, I'd better be going now," she turned to leave, looking far too happy.

"Wendy."

"Yes, bye Craig, I'll see you at school-"

"Wendy." She stopped, tense, with her face facing the ground. Slowly she turned, taking in a deep breath in.

"Yes Craig?" still facing the floor he noticed.

"Who gives a shit?"

Her eyes flew wide open and hit his with a fairly impressive glare. He also found himself impressed by her ability to roll her eyes and flick her hair at the same time as spinning around. He caught he arm before she could leave and managed to stop her, though she wasn't all that weak.

Clearly her battles with Cartman were paying off.

"No, I mean really. Who gives a damn who you end up dating? You do. And, yeah, who ever the dude you fancy should probably care too," he didn't name Cartman for her sake "And if somebody else does care, you shouldn't give a damn about that. I mean, it's your freaking life. Just go with it."

She stopped resisting and looked thoughtfully at her shoes before nodding. Craig began to walk away then, unsure of what else he could do.

"I- Craig?" Wendy called back "Thanks" she muttered softly.

"Yeah, yeah, happy Christmas," he was all but unconcerned if she'd replied with that, he was far too busy with feeling like a nice person. It was quite a decent feeling, really.

He found he wanted to see if he could be even nicer, and stopped at the nearest twenty four hour supermarket to himself and ordered for some kind of a Christmas lunch to be sent to Kenny's family, as a sort of thanks for his help. It was a bit mismatched seeing as it was Christmas day, but hopefully it'd do.

The store attendant he'd been talking to had given him several odd looks as he'd asked for the food to be delivered, obviously wanting to know why he couldn't just buy the food, seeing as he was at the store. But she didn't seem to care once he'd paid the full price.

After that he was stuck trying to work out what else he could do. Again. He thought of going to Tweek's to have a coffee or something to eat but the thought of seeing Tweek sent a harsh boot of nerves straight at his stomach, knocking out the hunger growing there. That probably wouldn't happen, then. Plus, he was pretty sure they would be closed.

His stomach growled, and he was reminded of Clyde. The boy could eat almost as much as Cartman. He said almost because he could still remember the time Cartman had eaten all of that plastic treasure.

Craig considered the idea of going to Clyde's house. He was pretty near to it- not that anything in South Park was ever far- and they'd probably feed him. If he was nice, which he was pretty certain they all thought he wasn't.

It was just gone ten when he checked the time on his watch. Christmas was the only day of the year that Clyde was suddenly able to wake up incredibly early. He'd probably been up a little later than Craig had in order to demolish the paper neatly hiding his presents, and buy now would be long into attempting to find some use for every single gift. One year Craig had bought him two 10 packs of multicoloured socks, just to see what would happen. A little later he received a text holding a photo of Clyde wearing an even forty socks, complete with the caption, "Challenge accepted".

Apparently his mum had had to text because of the socks Clyde was wearing over his hands.

That memory of that and the thought of Clyde talking to him the day before, at the end of school, encouraged Craig to find the courage to knock on his front door. He smiled politely at Clyde's mum, who commented on how long it'd been since she'd last seen him. He ran up the stairs and knocked on Clyde's open door.

Clyde, of course, fell off of the bed. As he stuttered from the floor, still in pyjamas, Craig announced himself mock-cheerfully, revealing a change in heart and claiming a need to play video games. He slumped onto Clyde's bed and picked up the controller Clyde had been using before totally annihilating the floor-child's previous high score.

"Hey, th-that's mine…."

Okay, so that wasn't too bad, Craig thought as he left the house of his latest victim. They'd played video games and eaten a lot of chocolate and sweets for hours. If he was totally honest it was just like they'd always been friends. Craig had even eaten Christmas dinner with Clyde's family. Or nearly had. He really couldn't express how grateful he'd been when Clyde's mother had told them they could eat upstairs as he had a guest. So they played more video games, and watched more films.

They spoke a little too, which had been more of a catch up session he supposed. Clyde had revealed all of the latest gossip (not that Craig had wanted to know), which mostly seemed very inaccurate, including details of how attractive he thought Red was.

Though most of the information he was receiving seemed fairly useless, he felt somewhat proud that Clyde still trusted him enough to share gossip and bitch with him. He ignored the fact that Clyde would probably trust a truck speeding in his direction if it had an ice cream logo on it.

In return, when Craig was asked in a half mumbled tone why he'd turned 'normal' again, he told the truth. Or half of the truth. He told Clyde all about the ghosts, but left out quite a bit of detail on the visions, and explained it all as though it was a dream.

Half of the way through Clyde had told him he sounded like he was talking about one of his films again. Craig had told him to shut up so he could finish the story, but was secretly quite pleased.

When he was done with his tale Clyde just asked if that meant he was gay for Tweek, at which point Craig thought he'd come up with quite an original substitute for a facepalm by slapping Clyde's forehead instead of his own, causing him to drive his virtual car off of the virtual cliff it had been driving along at high speed. While Clyde whined and rubbed at his head Craig told him it was better than crushing on Rebecca, at which he received an "oh," and the conversation ended there.

Before Clyde had left for Red's he'd offered Craig another invitation at least fifteen times, all of which Craig had turned down much more politely than the first one, but he was risking getting rude again by the time he convinced Clyde he was busy.

And now he was walking slowly to Stan's, nerves growing in his gut for various reasons. He took the very, very, long way round, and 'accidentally' got lost several times. But within half an hour he found himself stood outside of Stan's door, trying to think of something important he might've left at home that he could go and pick up again. Maybe he could fetch Stripe's hamster cage, just in case he needed to re-enact his dream again.

That was possibly the worst idea he'd ever had.

Just as he was about to give up and go home, where he could plan how to be nice to people for two weeks until they got back to school, when the door opened in front of him. He was pretty sure this would be awkward to explain.

"Oh hey Craig," it was Kenny. "you know that present I gave you?" Craig raised his eyebrows. He did not. Kenny repeated the question, this time emphasising the word present, and it clicked in Craig's head that Kenny was the ghost of Christmas present. He nodded slowly. "Well, in that present, Craig was a very miserable dick, and you know what he did? He didn't buy his family any presents, he called Wendy a slut and a whore, and I'm pretty sure he might've gotten annoyed and thrown a rock at Clyde's house. But, even worse than that, he didn't come to Stan's Christmas party!" Kenny's mocking tone was really kind of annoying.

"That's really creepy."

"Just come inside and say hi."

"Yeah okay, but stop following me." He stepped inside, hands once again shoved into his pockets as he played the grumpy card.

"You're in luck, the ghost thing's a one day deal only. Sadly for me," he lead Craig to the living room. "Tomorrow it's back to just not dying. Thanks for the food by the way."

Craig had stopped by the door to the living room, leaning against it's border and pretending he wasn't shy. He shrugged and muttered "what food?"

"Are you just gonna stand there all evening?"

"Yep."

"Well that's inconvenient," Kenny paused, and then, hesitantly, said, "are you scared?"

Craig scoffed "No." Kenny nodded. "But they're gonna look at me."

Kenny rolled his eyes, said, "Look back at them," and left Craig on his own for the company of the living room.

It took him a little while of planning and somewhat encouraging thoughts before he could convince himself to walk into the room. People did look at him as he walked past, but briefly and he was pretty sure he didn't reallycare, as long as no one said anything and he could just peacefully make his way to the sofa before-

"Craig?" shit. Why did Stan always have to ruin his nice, boring day? Dude, what the hell are you doing in my house?"

He knew everyone was looking now; it was one of those crucially awkward moments that could make or break you if you gave a damn about your social status. But he didn't really care because over by the door being reluctantly pulled in by who he thought was Pip- but could have been Kyle who was also stood nearby, he had no idea because he was a little distracted by the person being pulled in- was Tweek, clutching a thermos as expected.

Craig gulped and was pretty sure his eyes were about the same size as Tweek's. He obviously was a little busy to focus on what was coming out of his mouth in response to Stan.

"Damn, thanks Stan, I was wondering why the hell there was so many people in my living room, I honestly thought I was at home but I must've taken a wrong turning on my way back-" he cut off, suddenly rethinking his words and trying to work out if his sarcastic tone would be seen as funny or rude. This kindness thing was really irksome, but at least he hadn't offended anyone yet.

Yet.

There was a little pause before some people began to snicker lightly, and Craig tried smiling to see if that would help his situation any. Seeing Craig Tucker smile seemed to do the trick, and the people around him laughed shortly before returning to their conversations, a little shocked at his possibly new character.

Kenny then came to his rescue, telling Stan he'd invited Craig, and making up something that was apparently funny at Craig's expense as if Stan's laugh was anything to go by. Craig wasn't listening though, as his eyes were once again locked on Tweek's. He took a step or two towards the door where Tweek stood, but with a little "meep" Tweek ran in the opposite direction to Craig.

Craig couldn't help but snicker to himself at that, not because he wasn't a little offended, but because Tweek had looked so much like a mouse just then. Seeing that he was once more I his own company, he returned to journeying to the sofa.

Sitting down, he decided he hated Stan for having such a comfortable sofa. He didn't care if it was unjustified, he didn't really like Stan as it was, and so hating him wouldn't be too much of a change for him to deal with. He really hated the thought of appreciating something to do with Stan, but damn it was a nice place to sit. Craig was even somewhat tempted to try and steal one of the cushions, as long as no one noticed. But then he realised that would mean he would have something of Stan's in his room, and his mind couldn't cope with that.

Stuck deep within his thoughts of sofas and cushions, he had missed the slight detail of people sitting by him on the sofa. So much so, he jumped a little when Pip brightly said "Hello, Craig, haven't seen you in a while!"

He nodded and, prompted a little by Damien's threatening glare, tried to reply as cheerfully as he knew how to. "Hey Pip."

He answered Pip's questions on how his life was and asked the same questions back within his replies. He couldn't stop the smile when he was asked if anything interesting had happened lately, but still replied with "not really".

Seeming to sense that Damien was becoming restless with the lack of attention, Pip told Craig it was nice to speak with him again and spoke instead to the anti-Christ of South Park. Craig tried to give them their privacy and not listen to the conversation they were having- which he was pretty sure consisted entirely of Damien trying to convince Pip that bunny rabbits were made up of pure evil and hatred and even he, the spawn of the devil could not take one down in it's fully evolved state. But Craig couldn't really ignore Pip as a coughing fit hit him mid-laughter and his body convulsed, forcing him to bend over and clutch his stomach. Damien tried his best to help, while Craig tried his best to stay out of the way, in case he made things worse.

That reminded him. Though he was fairly sure he now had longer than a year of life left, Pip didn't there must have been something he could do, in the book Scrooge's money had been what kept Tiny Tim alive. Was that what he had to do? Pay for a treatment? But Pip wasn't poor, and besides, the problem hadn't entirely been Pip's death, it had been the fact that Pip had gone to heaven, the one place Damien was forbidden to enter.

So, the problem was that Pip was too good? Then Craig probably could help him, he figured, rolling his eyes a little. He waited until Pip could breathe normally again before he spoke.

"Hey, Pip?" the two boys sat next to him turned to listen to him, Pip inquisitive, Damien glaring again. Craig thought about the possibility that this could have been his normal, everyday, hello-my-name-is-Damien expression. Thinking about it, Craig probably sported a similar expression when he wasn't being rude. That was probably why people didn't like him in the first place.

The thought made him feel a kind of brotherly connection to Damien, which was easily the most worrying thing to happen all week.

"Yes Craig?"

"Does Cartman still give you shit coz he thinks you're French?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. Why?"

"Okay, well next time that happens you're gonna give him this," Damien twitched as Craig demonstrated how to do a fairly perfect flip off with one's middle finger. "And if he gives you more shit for that, you're gonna tell him to come to me, got it?"

Pip shook his head hurriedly "Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"

"Pip, it's cool. I've got a favour from him anyway, kay? And you gotta promise you'll do it, else I'm gonna be really upset."

Pip agreed eventually to try it out, and catching the ferocious look in Damien's eye, Craig got the feeling that he wouldn't have gotten away with that if he hadn't implied he could beat Cartman up. He wasn't too worried about that, though, he'd fought Cartman before, and won, but he had gotten a little heavier since then….

He shrugged it off knowing that Damien would at least thank him in a year's time. It wasn't much, but hopefully being slightly mean would be enough to condemn Pip's soul.

He was again lost in thought when Tweek was pulled in the room by someone, and that person was quite familiar but that didn't really matter any more because Tweek was there, and holy shit he was being tugged over towards the sofa, and Pip was calling out to him, and crap what if Crag said something mean to him or freaked him out, crap, crap, crap.

Pip scooted over so Tweek could be shoved into a new space in between Craig and Pip. Biting his lip, Craig could now see in a sort of nervous clarity that it was Kenny who'd pulled Tweek over, and then Tweek was sat down next to him so close he could feel the shakes and was kind of glad there was something else moving at a similar speed to his heartbeat.

They each examined their shoes for a moment or two, before Tweek muttered, fairly quietly. "He-hey Craig."

Craig swallowed and willed his voice to not be horrible. "Hi Tweek." He spoke almost as softly as Tweek had. "How've you been?"

"Ngh- o-okay, I gu-guess. You?"

"Fine," Because this conversation wasn't getting painfully mundane. He winced and pushed himself back into the sofa and, sighing, admitted "Okay, that's bull. I've been pretty shitty, actually," his voice was back to it's normal volume, and also hit the same level of sarcasm it always had, but that was okay for once.

Tweek smiled "Yeah, m-me too."

Craig chuckled. "Good to know. Well, no it isn't, but I'm glad it's not just me."

Tweek was smiling, too, which was pretty encouraging.

"Can we also agree that I've been an asshole?" Craig asked softly.

Tweek's eyes widen, and he looked at Craig very closely to see if he joking or not. "N-no not -ngh- really-"

"Oh come on, Tweek," the pace of his heart, which had recently settled quite nicely, spiked as he spotted that Tweek's face still coloured red whenever Craig said his name.

And his stupid heart all but stopped when Tweek's face changed from a small smile to a grin. "Yeah, oka-kay you really were." Craig was pretty sure that was the mark for the two of them becoming friends again.

They spoke for hours, quickly and subtly. It was exactly like befriending Clyde again, only it…. Was totally different. Craig remembered that he always found it strange when he and Tweek had long and detailed discussions about nothing, as neither of them was prone to much talking, so half of the conversation could be made up from expressions, body language or their own traits. He really had missed Tweek without realising, and talking to him again was somewhat like pulling on an old favourite jumper. Or something.

Tweek told him all about gnomes, the coffee shop and how people had forced him to make new friends once Craig had disappeared. It saddened Craig a little to hear about Tweek's side to the story, but he was glad that people had made Tweek get out of his room every now and then, and just the fact that they were already on an okay level to talk about him being horrible made him smile. After Tweek had spent a full twenty minutes detailing everything the gnomes had done since Craig had been gone, Craig told him about the ghost 'dream'. He was glad he could leave out some details, but got the feeling that Tweek was a little suspicious that the dream had been real. He supposed it was a little bit long for a dream, but he knew he would one day tell Tweek the whole thing if he could.

As he finished the ghost tale, Craig's mouth was drying out. He felt thirsty, and Tweek hadn't taken a sip from his thermos recently, meaning it was probably empty. Because He was Craig Tucker, he didn't acknowledge his blush as he pulled Tweek up, and instead told him they were going to get drinks from the kitchen.

It wasn't a long journey to the empty kitchen, but just before he could walk through the door he heard someone, Kyle he thought, maybe, call out his name. He turned around to check, but accidentally walked into Tweek's now still frame. After quickly steadying himself, he checked Tweek to see what was wrong, and followed the blonde boy's gaze upwards to where the mistletoe hung over them. Both of them bit their lips.

"No gnomes this time?" Craig said gently.

Tweek's startled eyes shot down to meet Craig's he half smiled. "No gnomes."

Someone in the living room whooped. Craig was pretty sure it was Kenny, and was also pretty sure Kenny was the person who had put the mistletoe up. Either way, he was also pretty sure he would hit Kenny later.

Craig tried to hide his eyes with the black fringe that framed his now burning face. His head hung heavily as he acted against the nerves sat in his chest and quickly pushed his lips against Tweek's cheek, which he just had time to judge was about as soft as the kiss he'd given Tweek.

Someone cheered, again probably Kenny, and another couple of people in the room who had been paying attention joined in. at which point Craig, growing a little annoyed at being almost on display, grabbed Tweek's left hand in his right and pulled him into the safety of the kitchen.

Craig had to admit, that had been embarrassing, but it made him feel ridiculously…. Happy. And he really didn't want to let go of Tweek's hand, so much so that as they shyly dropped each other's hands he suddenly, in a burst of energy he grabbed Tweek's hand again.

"Tweek, I- help me?"

Tweek blinked "Huh?"

"Can you help me? I really don't want to be horrible again, especially not to you…." He trailed off, focusing on the floor. There was a reassuring squeeze around his palm and he looked up again. "So…. Help?" he tried to look sincere, if such a thing was possible.

Tweek nodded, and Craig found himself laughing softly.

"Thanks."

"No problem," he smiled and squeezed Craig's hand again before pulling away, shy again. Craig sighed, imagining his next move in his head, before mentally swearing and deciding to just go for it.

"Oh, and Tweek?" Tweek started a little as Craig kissed him again.