Merry Christmas, you guys (: I love how the chapter which coincidentally happens to be my present to all of you is the one that has absolutely no importance. Hahaha.

Don't worry what people think, they don't do it very often.

—Unknown

Tweek's point of view:

South Park was near, the wooden familiarity of the Welcome sign steadily approaching. I had texted Thomas, informing him of my arrival, and his reply was making my phone vibrate.

Is that handsome man driving you?

Rolling my eyes, I sent him an affirmative.

"I've come back here twice in the same month," Craig said. "What have you done to me?"

I smiled because it was true. In some way I must've been affecting him. Something about me was enough to get him to return to his hometown. The one he'd abandoned and refused to ever revisit. Whatever it was, it was flattering and I liked having the ability to make him want to do such a thing.

"Seduced you?" I guessed.

"By your prude ass? Ha."

My cheeks felt hot. "Craig!"

"I know, I'm sorry." He leaned clear across the seat and kissed my cheek.

"No, you're not." There was a frown on my face and I could feel it weighing down my features.

"Yeah," he agreed despondently. "You're right."

As my frown increased in size, my phone buzzed. Thomas's reply was: I want to hang out with him.

"Thomas wants to hang out with you. Not me," I shared. "Just you."

He smirked and said, "Fuck yeah. I just can't get enough gay boys in my life."

"I'm telling him you said that." It was already punched in and sent.

"Good." Pausing shortly, Craig continued with, "So where's his boyfriend?"

Oh, that was funny. "Thomas is a free spirit," I explained in short.

"Ah, I see. So how'd you end up stuck on me?" That question, I would ignore. "Best friends usually tend to be similar in some way."

"We're skinny, blonde, gay, and have disabilities. That's about as similar as we get." Thomas was experienced, promiscuous, flamboyant, and had somehow absorbed my self-esteem. Obviously we were polar opposites.

"Well, coincidentally that just so happen to be my favorite." I rolled my eyes, head thunking against the window. "So I guess I'll drop you off and switch you out for skinny, blonde, and gay with disabilities number two."

"No, that's not going t-to happen." If my best friend got my crush alone, I would no longer have any secrets, and that wasn't something that I was ready for.

"Jealous?" He asked.

That too. Thomas was more charismatic that me. Craig would enjoy talking to him more. He wouldn't have had a problem taking his clothes off. "You were kind of obsessed with him in fourth grade."

"I can do your laundry too, you know." Would that have been considered a risqué fantasy? Craig doing my laundry? "You probably wouldn't want me to touch your underwear, though."

It came out before I could censor it when I said, "I rarely ever wear underwear." Eyes fluttering shut, I knocked my head against the window a second time. Might as well. "The only way I won't regret saying that is if you consider it a turn on."

Grinning, he told me, "I do. Are you commando right now?" An answer like that wasn't something I could admit vocally, so I waited until he glanced at me to nod my head. "We don't have to hang out with Thomas, do we?"

My pulse jogged. "So you forgot about earlier?" I asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not."

"Craig!"

"I know, I know. I'm just giving you a hard time."

Grumbling incoherently, I finally managed to come out with an order resembling, "Let's just go to his house. He lives in my neighborhood so head that way."

"You don't want to change your clothes anymore?"

"That I can do at Thomas's." I'd shared with Craig that I felt grungy in my clothes just for the sake of starting a conversation about clothing so that I could find out where the niorette shopped. He liked expensive stores, I'd learned. Although he didn't dress eccentrically, he thought of fashion as an art form and knew of numerous foreign designers. The one article he went out on a limb for, though, were shoes.

Supposedly he had a collection and promised to show it to me the next time I went to his apartment. He warned me that it was quite large and that he liked boots and oxfords. I added that to my list of things I needed to see from him. His drawings of me went along with that. Memory just kind of flew out of my ears whenever I was with him seeing as I could never remember to make him show me. My only immediate thoughts when he was near were: Sexy, sexy, sexy I want your body everything about you is beautiful.

Honestly, it was becoming a problem. I really needed to learn how to control my mind, but thanks to earlier, all I could imagine when I looked at him was an eight inch erection and I didn't know who's it was because I've never seen Craig's but I pretended it was and it pretty much turned me the fuck on. There was going to be a lot of sexual tension between us.

We often made dirty jokes and that was that. Maybe I'd get embarrassed or maybe I had miraculously instigated the jibe and that was all it ever was. But now when we made jokes, we glanced at each other and my stomach clenched and I wondered if Craig wanted to jump me as badly as I wanted to jump him in those moments. The jokes—we were being serious. And that was all we talked about. It felt like throughout this entire car ride we've been doing nothing but talking about our bodies because if we couldn't literally do anything, then we could at least picture it.

Maybe I could make it up to him. Maybe I could fix a portion of what had happened earlier. I bit my lip at the implication of that proposition. My face flushed and I shifted in my seat, wringing my hands in my lap. There was no way I could withstand his inspection of my nude body, and there was no way that I could withstand inspecting his nude body. But there were other things we could do. Thomas would understand if we left a bit early.

"Where do I go?" Craig asked, his voice alone causing a tremor to slither down my spine. Head still stuck in this morning's events and hearing the echo of his husky tone—fuck, it wasn't smart of me to be thinking of such things in this confined space.

Clueless, I was stupid enough to look at him. "What?"

He turned his head and I knew he must've seen the look in my eye. Smirking, he repeated, "Where do I go?"

"O-oh. Turn left. U-up here." I pointed at the intersection, realized my hand was trembling, and thrust it back into my lap. "And then it's the fifth house on the right. The one with t-the green car."

"Environment friendly green? Or literally green?"

I smiled and said, "Both."

As he followed my directions, he inquired, "So what's with the bedroom eyes?"

"Huh?" This time I was trying to force cluelessness.

"What were you thinking about just now, peach fuzz?"

Just for the nickname that I thought I'd gotten rid of, I glowered and said, "Nothing."

"Tell me and I'll tell—"

"What is your point with the whole you-share, I-share thing? It doesn't work that way, Craig. You're not embarrassed by anything you say. I am. It's not f-fair, dude. That's like cheating!"

He listened to me puff out an angry breath before before saying, "We're both informing each other about something neither of us knew." We turned the corner I'd specified. "How is that not fair?"

"I—" Damn it. "I don't know."

His expression was smug. "I'll go first then."

"Fine."

As a tactic to ignore my immaturity, he straightforwardly made the statement, "You get cuter every time I see you." My breath caught in my throat and my eyes widened. That...hadn't been what I'd expected him to say. "And I don't do this, the whole...intimacy thing, I guess you could call it. One time I tried it and it didn't work. So whatever the fuck you're doing, I'd say you're uh" —did he mean that this was working? That we were working?— "you're doing something right, you know?"

No, I didn't know. But I nodded my head anyways and tried to digest what he was saying. He thought I was doing something right. I didn't even know what it was that I seemed to be doing. A brilliant smile took control of my features and there was no removing it because I liked the feeling too much to decline its presence.

So I mimicked Craig's previous act of intimacy and leaned across the seat to kiss his cheek. I felt the car halt and knew that we were in front of Thomas's. The hint of his stubble scratched my lips, and I couldn't help but pull away only after brushing my mouth across his skin.

"Where are you going?" He murmured as I made to lean back. His hand captured my face, thumb rubbing against my cheek as he directed me toward his lips.

Just like our tense conversations, our kiss was hasty, tongues immediate. We met above the center console, pushing and tugging impatiently at each other. His hand strayed quickly down to the bottom of my shirt where I wanted to stop him because we were right outside of my best friend's house, but I couldn't possibly do that after what he'd just confessed.

Against my stomach, his fingers were slightly chilled. It sent goosebumps rippling up my chest and down my arms. He took his mouth and took his kisses and placed them down my jaw. His arm wrapped around my waist beneath my shirt. I wove my fingers through his hair, gripping tightly when his teeth nipped at the skin of my throat. A soft noise was rising in my chest, leaping higher when Craig shifted his lips over the space behind my ear, teasing the spot with his tongue.

I scooted closer, breath gone heavy as he pinpointed the area and sucked experimentally. The quiet hum of a moan escaped me. One of my hands dropped to the nape of his neck where I dug my nails into the tip of his spine. Craig sucked harder, inching forward to bring our bodies nearer. A hand of his own rose to brush my hair aside as he worked against that specific spot, and God, it felt good. The more he gnawed at it, the more I scrabbled against him to hold on tighter to refrain from making any more noise.

His fingers were digging into my back and somehow the roughness enticed me. Anything Craig did enticed me. Especially when his touch began to wander and I could feel the beating of his breath, the tip of his tongue tracing the ridge of my ear.

Eyes snapping open, I grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved myself away.

"T-Thomas is waiting. Oh God—he probably knows. He probably saw us." Running a hand through my hair, I began filing through stuff that I needed to do. "I n-need to change my clothes and I should definitely shower and—" Craig was just sitting there grinning at me. "W-what?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, ruffling his mussed locks. "You still owe me, remember?"

My mumble was practically inaudible. "Right. You share, I share." To buy time, I took a second to situate my shirt and then ran my fingers over the warmed skin just behind my right ear. I could almost feel how irritated the spot was, splotched with red and obviously a hickey. "Can I f-finish it later?" Sheepish was my question, and to persuade him, I leaned back across the seat and placed our mouths close together, the tips of our noses brushing. "Can we finish this later, too?"

"We can finish whatever you want later," he agreed, tilting his head to kiss me. Just as I was anticipating the push of his lips, he stopped, grinned and said, "Later."

"Asshole," I growled, turning away to get out of the car. The door was locked and I fumbled around before making a humiliating exit. On my way to the door, I was mentally beating myself up about it. Impressing Craig was clearly out of the question. I was too clumsy to be graceful or poise around him.

Thomas would've made that type of situation cute somehow, my thoughts told me. He was an asshole, too.

At the front door it got even worse. My best friend was there to open it before I could even knock—probably unknowingly saving me from messing up again—and while he was blocked by its frame, he fanned his face to let me know exactly what he'd taken a glimpse at through the window.

"Guess who brought that handsome man for you?" In exchange for Craig's presence, I gave him a silencing look and expected him to keep his mouth shut.

"Oh, I know. Thanks for warming him up for me." No longer caring, I threw my hands up and headed toward his room.

By no longer caring, I meant that I took a shower and changed my clothes, leaving absolutely no surveillance over the two douche bags down the hall. I did crack Thomas's door open so I could hear snippets of their conversation, though. What I heard was my best friend spewing admiration all over Craig, telling him how attractive he was and that if I ever got to be too prude for him that he'd be more than available for grabs.

While I plucked clothes from his closet, I gave him an insult for every chosen article. A pair of jeans rolled at the ankles: "Fuck you, whore." A cream colored cardigan with a red trim: "Nobody likes your slutty face." And when I put them on I cried, "Thomas! Am I losing weight?" His jeans were a size too big and his top didn't hug me like it used to.

"Thomas!" I repeated, whimpering his name as I exited his room and walked into the living area. He was sitting on the couch with Craig, more so on Craig's lap than the couch itself. The sight exasperated me. "Seriously?"

The niorette tipped his head back. Cold droplets of water drizzled down my neck, adding to his steady gaze. My best friend grinned and quirked his brows at me. "You chose a keeper. He refused to kiss me until he got your permission."

I expected that. Thomas wanting to kiss him, not that Craig would actually decline for my sake. "That's not what I'm asking."

Pouting, the golden blonde said, "It's not like I can tell with what you're wearing. Why are you so upset about it? Losing weight is a good thing. I'm fatter than you now."

No, losing weight was not a good thing. I already thought I was skinny enough. And then there was the question about why it was happening. "But what if it doesn't stop? What if I have a worm? What if it's an eating disorder? What if it's a disease and I need to get a license to start smoking marijuana? I'll end up like Stan's dad. Oh sweet Jesus, I've got testicular cancer!"

"Or maybe you should start eating when you come over to my place," Craig suggested. "And you got a healthy vomit in this morning."

My mouth shut, thoughts dispersed. "Oh." Turning on my heel I said "I'm going to go get something to eat" and entered the kitchen.

"So. About that kiss," I heard Thomas say.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a piece of bread and walked back into the living room hastily. "That's your idea of something to eat?" Craig asked, mocking my bread as I got onto the couch, kicked my best friend away, and stole his spot. "I'm taking you out after this."

Settling against him, head on his chest, damp locks wetting his shirt, I took another bite of my slice and hummed in acknowledgement. His arms slid around my body, holding me in place. My eyes closed briefly at his level of nonchalance, and when I opened them, Thomas was grinning at me from his fallen position on the couch. I blushed and sat up to correct the proximity between Craig and I.

"Um," I glanced up at him timidly. "Do you need to smoke?"

He made a face and I didn't blame him. It was an irrelevant question. "Not really, but I can if you want me to leave the room."

The color in my cheeks darkened as he targeted my ulterior motive. He smirked, smug as ever, and patted my back to let me know it was time to move. I rolled off his lap, watching his lanky figure amble away.

"Have fun talking about me," he called over his shoulder.

Once he was gone and we heard the front door open and close, Thomas pounced on me. We landed in a heap along the body of the couch.

"Something happened this morning," I said.

It started with the guilt, and then came the embarrassment, disappointment, and anger at myself. They consumed me all over again and I had to clamp my eyes shut because restating the issue was physically painful. And then I blurted out: "I wouldn't take my clothes off. I couldn't let him see me naked. I was too scared."

"Tweek," Thomas cooed, face lighting up in adoration. He thought it was cute. My entire face was heating up in humiliation and irritation. "You're too sweet. You do know that Craig finds your modesty appealing, right? Besides, you can—bitch—totally use this to your advantage!"

"My advantage?" I repeated, outraged. "Thomas, last night I told him how much I like him! He probably thinks I'm a hypocrite."

"You told him?" He shrieked, joyous for an instant before his eyes narrowed inquisitively. "I sure hope you didn't forget to mention that it's been eight years. Since, you know, that's a pretty impressive commitment and all." The still look on my face followed by the diverted direction of my eyes butchered his hopes. "And you didn't."

A hurried explanation came compulsively after. "We started kissing! I was drunk!"

"And?" He prompted.

After a momentary pause, from beneath my breath came a quiet, "And I don't want him to know that it's been s-so long."

I was then crushed by my best friend's sudden weight when he gave up and flopped on top of me. "I don't get you sometimes."

Strategically, I chose to let this particular topic slide and resurrect another. "So, this advantage you speak of..."

"Yeah, it's a pretty good idea. But I don't know if you're up to par with such a flirtatious act," he mumbled into my chest.

"Thomas."

He sat up on his elbows and looked down at my face. "Don't let him see you naked. Tease him with it." If things continued this way with Craig, then I was going to become a beast at teasing. It wasn't that I was even meaning to. My prude tendencies just kind of gave me the approach of a tease. "Slip some skin by accident. Build up the tension." Our tension was simmering as it was. "And then do you know what you do?"

What I do? Sweet Jesus. My saliva was thick running down my throat. I let him draw me naked. In my head I tried desperately to find the image of me nude aesthetically pleasing and the thought of Craig spectating my nudity a turn on. Except it wasn't working and the only emotion I could muster was irrational fear.

"Y-yeah. I think." Why did Craig have to be an artist? "I think I do." Maybe I could ask to see some of his other nude portraits. Maybe I could ask him to do Thomas first. "There's uh, one more thing." Before confronting this, I grabbed either side of Thomas's face and held his gaze. We looked at each other, his tawny eyes so familiar. They drew the truth and fear and uncertainty out of me. "I wouldn't let him take his clothes off either. I didn't know what I would do if I s-saw him naked."

"No you didn't." All he did was take my honesty and returned my fear, the uncertainty. "You passed up an opportunity to see his dick?"

There was no affirming his question, no pause at all. Thomas waited for nothing and lunged off the couch. I had no time to register why he was running for the front door but I didn't like the underlying intensity of his unknown motive. "What are you doing?" He didn't answer and I'd just reached the entryway when he opened the door and disappeared outside.

"Craig," I heard him call out. Peering around the threshold, I saw the niorette looking up into the swarming branches and leaves of a tree. He was no longer smoking and I wondered how long he'd been standing out there for doing nothing. As his attention was grabbed, Thomas pointed at him and said, "Show me your dick."