Craig had wanted to get that biology assignment over with as fast as possible, and that was exactly why they were here, chilling in Craig's room and entertaining themselves with rummaging through all the little knick-knacks and space-themed items he had. Unfortunately, it seemed Craig's taste in interior design grew up alongside him, so all the cuter, more childish things had been removed.
The bedsheets, once rife with stars and galaxies, were now a boring dark blue. The walls had been deprived of their usual Star Trek posters. Only the ceiling still held the remnants of the boy who was, with its array of plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars. A comforting stick-on universe. Stan had thought it was cute when he saw it. But Craig had quickly caught him and clarified that he only held onto those stars because they would leave sticky residue glue all over if he didn't remove them right. It was sad, in a way.
Eventually, Stan got bored of Craig's new minimalist room décor and started looking out the window while Cartman and Craig kept themselves entertained behind him.
"Wouldn't it be fun to get snacks?" Cartman suggested, "And we could have a cute little study group date thing, you know?"
A car drove past the Tucker house, and for a moment, Stan thought Trent was in that car. They were only waiting for him to arrive.
"Sure," Craig said, "But Tweek's been on some health nut thing lately, so it'll probably be hard to find anything."
Stan turned his gaze away from the window and looked at Craig's bed. He had almost forgotten that Tweek lived with them now. But, sure enough, right under the bed was a mattress, ready for use. So, this was where Tweek slept. He couldn't help but wonder if Tweek was the reason Craig's room had lost its boyish charm.
He turned his gaze to Craig. "No worries, Cartman can smell every snack within a seventeen-kilometer radius. You'll find something."
Cartman huffed a bit but nodded. He could find something for sure.
"Cool," Craig said monotonously, "you coming with?"
Stan turned his eyes back to the window, ready to get distracted by every car that drove by. "I'll wait here."
He heard some footsteps and then the door closing. And so, he was alone, peering through the window. A blue Suzuki slowly drove past the house, and Stan once again thought Trent was finally rearing his annoying head. He had no business being as late as he was. They were doing this for him, after all. Okay, they were doing this for themselves, but it was his fault anyway.
A man on a motorcycle scooted past quickly. That was certainly not Trent. Somewhere in his mind, Stan thought Trent was at least considerate enough to not speed around in a neighborhood. Not to mention, the motorcycle didn't even stop outside the house.
Another car, a BMW of some sort, drove past the house but then came back around and planted itself in the driveway. Stan squinted a bit; he could see the driver, a woman with big blue eyes, a button nose, red lips, and long, blonde hair in a messy bun. As she stepped out of the driver's side door, the door on the passenger side opened as well.
Stan, spurred on by curiosity and possibly also teenage hormones, jumped to the floor and made his way downstairs. He couldn't deny that this woman was really pretty, and there was nothing wrong with just wanting to talk to her. On the way, he passed the open basement door. It appeared that Cartman's nose had taken their snack search further down. Stan continued onward until he reached the driveway.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" He heard the woman ask. She was turned with her back towards him, talking to the person in the passenger seat with her hands on her hips.
Because of the way the car was angled, Stan couldn't see the person in the passenger seat. But he could see the woman. She was wearing a tube skirt, a tight-fitting shirt, and medium high heels.
"I think so," Trent's familiar voice said, "should we just go knock?"
The woman shrugged, "You tell me. They're your friends." There was a slight bite in her voice. Though it seemed almost sarcastic, loving, in a way.
"They're not my friends." Trent mumbled and moved to get out of the car. "You go knock."
"Alright, alright," She said. Before she made any move to turn around, she snatched a napkin out of her purse and handed it to him. "Don't you dare bleed on my seats, shithead." She turned around fully only to jump in surprise when she saw Stan. "Ah, Jesus Christ!"
Stan's face heated up a bit; he hadn't realized how close he was to them. "Uh, hi." He muttered sheepishly.
The woman quickly composed herself, smoothing out her tube skirt and moving a blonde strand of hair out of her face. "Good God, boy, you can't just sneak up on a woman like that." She shook her hands, in an almost exaggerated manner. Somehow, her every move appeared exaggeratedly feminine and almost ditzy. "Who even are you?"
"Uh, the name's Stan," He said, hating how nervous he sounded.
The woman raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Tucker?" He shook his head, and her entire posture deflated, "Goddammit, Trent, this is the wrong house."
The man in question finally exited the car and looked at the woman. He was gently pressing a napkin to his nose, which was red with blood. "Lay off, will you? This is the right house."
The woman gave Trent a look that Stan had seen far more times than he would've wanted. Shelley gave him that look all the time; an inherently dichotomic look of hatred and overbearing.
"Yep," Stan added, feeling some sort of need to back Trent up, "You're at the right place."
The woman took another napkin out of her purse and handed it to Trent. "Good, I'm out then. Don't bother calling me; I won't pick you up."
And without anything else to say, she stepped back into her car and drove off.
Gently, as if to not provoke him, Stan poked Trent with his elbow. "Who was she? She's hot." He almost immediately wanted to slap himself in the face for those last two words. It simply slipped out, like he needed an excuse to want to know who she was.
"My sister, Taylor," Trent said. He sounded completely detached. Then he started walking toward the house, with Stan awkwardly following behind him. With his eyes trained on the ground, he noticed the trail of blood Trent left behind. A drop here, a drop there.
Stan hurried a bit and opened the door for him, and they stepped inside. Trent replaced his old napkin with the new one before Stan moved to the open basement door and called out, "Guess who decided to grace us with his presence."
The room was filled with the rustling of plastic bags as Cartman and Craig emerged from the basement, their hands laden with an assortment of snacks.
"About time," Cartman grumbled, eyeing Trent. "What took you so long?"
Trent shrugged nonchalantly, still holding the napkin to his nose. "Had a little run-in with Rick. Nothing major. Then I needed someone to drive me, which took a million years."
Without the slightest bit of grace nor tact, Craig shoved all the snacks in his arms onto Cartman. "You ran into Rick?"
Trent smiled. It was charming, but in a way that weirded Stan out. "Yeah, I mean, it's kinda hard not to. Feels like he's everywhere." He didn't protest when Craig took his hand and led him to the kitchen. Cartman and Stan awkwardly followed.
Craig already seemed very comfortable around Trent, and the guys had yet to even do anything. Was this all Trent's doing?
"I swear, that guy's fucking crazy," Craig mumbled as he took a kitchen cloth and poured water over it. "He's gonna kill someone someday, I know it."
A cold settled in the room, a bone-chilling, teeth-tattling cold. Rick would kill someone someday. Somehow, no one had thought of it that way before. But that was obviously the path he was walking down. And everyone knew who he would go for. Stan and Cartman exchanged a look, but there was something off about it.
Craig handed Trent the wet kitchen cloth and watched him wipe some of the dry blood off his chin. The fresh red blood was still pouring from his nose, but at least he was cleaner now.
"Thanks," he spoke quietly.
Cartman, never one to shy away from drama, decided to break his usual pattern. "So, uh, wanna get started on that assignment?" He cleared his throat too. Damn, it was sad. Stan would happily be the first one to question why the mention of Rick had made Cartman so uncomfortable.
Still, the whale's indirect plea to change to subject worked though. Before long, they were pouring chips and chocolates into separate bowls and made their way back to Craig's room. Naturally, Trent wasn't allowed to touch anything until, he had stopped his nose from bleeding. But the gush of crimson was
And thus, they embarked on the boring journey of actually doing a school assignment. Craig in his bed, Stan in the office chair, Cartman on the floor in front of him, and Trent sitting on the floor leaning against the bed.
Biology was probably the subject Stan loathed the most. None of that stuff made any sense, and they just kept adding new words. At one point, Trent said the words 'surfactant' and 'alveoli' and genuinely expected Stan to have a clue what he meant. It felt strangely embarrassing to be a lifeguard and also know nothing about the biology of drowning to death.
He was getting tired, and Trent wasn't even trying to charm Craig. Yeah, okay, he would gladly admit that Trent had to pick up the hurdle of being one of the only two people in the room who actually understood what this stupid-ass assignment was all about. But still, he could at least try.
"Hey, Craig," Stan started, trying to sound nonchalant. "Where's Tweek? Is he coming home soon?"
Craig blinked at him a few times before he seemingly got the message. "Sure, we can take a break." He paused for a moment. "Tweek's at Top Pot. With Kenny."
Stan quickly glanced at Cartman, who immediately caught the hint. "Wow, Craig, that's really sweet of you," he said with a sugary sweet tone like a compliment.
Craig looked at them with a mix of confusion and concern. "Sweet? What do you mean?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
Stan smiled and feigned innocence, "Oh, nothing, Craig. Just, you know, leaving Tweek alone with Kenny at Top Pot. It's a bit... brave, don't you think?"
Before Craig could respond, Cartman chimed in once again. "Don't worry, babe. Kenny would never. You know how Rick would react, oh wait, no, they broke up." He put a contemplative finger to his chin. "Oh, imagine how vulnerable Kenny is after such a recent break up. Oh, how easy it would be for someone like Tweek to swoop in an- ow." Stan kicked him, and he deserved it too.
Craig's face scrunched up into a look of pure fury. They must've struck a nerve. "Seriously, fuck you guys, Tweek wouldn't do that; They're at work. Haven't you ever heard of work ethic?"
Cartman barked out a mocking laugh and spoke, "Work ethic? As if Tweek would care about that when he's fucking his employee."
Oh. He was going a little too far. Convincing Craig that Tweek was cheating was supposed to be subtle. They weren't supposed to outright say it. Otherwise, they couldn't backpedal when Craig inevitably confronted Tweek. However, it seemed too late now.
The red that painted Craig's face was a shade Stan had never seen before, at least not on Craig himself. "What the fuck are you assholes trying to get at?" His voice was low with barely restrained anger.
Stan laughed nervously, "Nothing, man. We're just congratulating you on having a healthy, open relationship."
Cartman nodded, "Yeah, monogamy's boring anyway."
Craig was surprisingly cute when he got mad. "We're not in an open relationship!" he yelled. Adorable. Still, Stan's eyes briefly landed on Trent. He didn't miss the way the blond flinched, actually flinched when Craig raised his voice.
"Oh, you're not?" Cartman asked, still in that awful sugary sweet tone, "That's not what he told Kenny~"
"They're at work! Work! Fatass!" Craig didn't yell, but he certainly sounded more stern than usual. He turned his head to Trent. "You saw them work together alone on Sunday! Tell them you didn't see them do anything!"
Trent, who had clearly tried to not get involved in the sabotage, looked entirely taken aback that Craig even remembered he was there. "I, uh, I didn't see anything. No."
The tension in the room hung thick as Trent stumbled over his words. Craig's gaze bore into him, seeking more affirmation or contradiction to the insinuations Stan and Cartman had thrown into the air.
Even from his seat behind Cartman's head, Stan could tell the brunette was giving Trent the hardest death glare he could possibly muster up, urging him to just go along and not contradict them. He was entirely sure Trent had caught on.
Craig peeled his eyes off Trent and gave Cartman a victorious yet unsure look. "See! They're not-"
"Wait a sec," Trent cut him off. He had definitely noticed the death glare. "Now that I'm really thinking about it. I did notice that Tweek was really touchy. Like, uncomfortably so."
The room fell into a silence so heavy, even the air itself seemed to hold its breath, anxiously waiting for Craig's response. Stan shot a glare at Cartman, who seemed to be regretting the depth of the hole they were digging. Meanwhile, Craig's expression shifted from victorious to conflicted.
"Tweek was touchy?" Craig finally questioned, a mix of concern and disbelief evident in his voice, as he stared Trent down with big questioning eyes. Stan wanted to slap Trent. Tweek was the least touchy person he knew.
Trent scratched the back of his head nervously, clearly not expecting to be dragged into this discussion. It seemed he, too, realized it was a bad place to take the sabotage. "Yeah, I mean, it was subtle, but he kept touching Kenny and stuff. I dunno, I thought they were just close friends."
Craig was still sitting on the bed, leaning over Trent who was slowly hoisting himself onto it. "Where?" His voice trembled a little.
Trent cocked a perfect eyebrow and tilted his head a bit. It was charming in a way, though it reminded Stan of a dog. "What?"
Craig's voice trembled even worse than before. "Where did he touch him?"
Stan would've felt at least a little bad for Craig. He really would. But right now, he was busy feeling offended that Craig so clearly believed Trent's word more than his and Cartman's. He believed the maniac who had spent more than half his life in juvenile hall over two of his childhood… acquaintances.
"Let's see," Trent began, whatever dip in confidence he had earlier was gone now, as he reached his hand out and placed it on Craig's shoulder. "Of course, he touched his shoulder a lot, and sometimes, he even let his hand glide down his arm like this." Naturally, Trent's own hand did everything he accused Tweek's hand of doing, and he reveled in the reaction it received from Craig. "And at one point, he had the nerve to slide his hand down here. On his lower back. And he just let it sit there." His hand naturally demonstrated his words.
Craig's face was beet-red, but it was hard to tell if it was anger at the thought of Tweek touching someone like that, or if he was blushing about Trent touching him so much. After all, Craig was almost certainly not used to touches like that and certainly not by someone who looked as good as Trent. For a moment, Stan wondered if Trent even needed their help with getting Craig into bed with him. He seemed to be doing just fine on his own.
"Anything else?" Craig inquired; his tone much more nervous now than before. Stan concluded that Craig was both blushing from being flustered and being pissed at the thought of Tweek cheating.
"Not much," Trent said, removing his hands from Craig as if he had never touched him.
Stan barely caught it before it happened. But within a split-second, Craig's face shifted from flustered to pure fucking rage. Such a fast change of pace, it took everyone by surprise. His hands landed on Trent's chest, and with a hard shove, the space between them widened by what seemed like miles in the moment.
He pushed him. Actually, pushed him. Of course, Trent was already sitting on Craig's boring minimalist décor bed when Craig decided to lay his hands on him, so he only went from sitting to laying. Yet, he looked like a deer in headlights, as he took a moment to process the whole experience before it was even over.
"Tweek is not fucking touchy!" Craig hissed, his voice low, and every word punctuated by it. He was on his feet, towering over all his 'quests'. There was something in his eye, something very evident. A hint of shame.
The room fell silent again, this time with an added tension that hung heavy in the air. Stan and Cartman exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that their plan had taken an unexpected turn. The yelling had caused Stan's head to hurt. He had almost forgotten about his concussion, which was probably a good sign. It seemed Trent hadn't punched him that hard after all. Trent, too, was caught off guard by Craig's sudden outburst.
Stan had said it, or at least thought it, before and he would say it again. He thought Trent Boyett was unpredictable as fuck! One would assume that he'd get defensive and violent when pushed like this. But no, he froze up. A perfectly common freeze response, but it was unusual in Trent's case.
Okay, now that Stan was really thinking about it, he supposed it wasn't unusual to freeze up when the spitting image of a past abuser yells at you.
With that in mind, Stan spoke up again, "Back off, Craig, he's just telling what he saw."
Craig turned his attention to Stan, his face flushed and his eyes furious. "You shut the fuck up, Stan!" He bellowed. Stan had never heard him sound so mad before. "I expected you and the fatass to try and mess with me, but him?!" Like a compass, Craig's accusatory finger found its way to Trent. "For fuck's sake, Trent! Clyde fucking warned me about you too, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt and look where we are."
Stan wanted to scoff a little. While he knew that being upset and confrontational when confronted with the prospect of being cheated on, this just seemed excessive. And taking everything out on Trent seemed… strange.
Stan didn't miss the way Trent was seemingly pressing himself into the headboard of the bed. "I, uh," He tried to come up with some response, but nothing of value escaped his mouth. "I didn't think it-"
Craig cut him off. "You didn't think I'd know my own boyfriend?! What, you didn't think I'd know that you're making up some stupid fucking lie?!"
"Alright, Craig, that's enough," Cartman said, grabbing Craig's arm and beginning to drag him out of the room. Stan hadn't even noticed that Cartman had stood up. "We need to take a walk." He was bigger and stronger than Craig, so dragging him outside was expectedly easy.
In the tense silence that followed, Stan found himself torn between following Cartman and Craig out of the room or staying with Trent, who looked nothing like the confident guy he had been so afraid of mere days ago. He seemed slightly embarrassed. In the end, Stan opted to stay, if only because he felt that his presence wasn't needed outside.
He scooted the office chair over to Trent while still sitting in it. He knew the blond was shaken; it wasn't visible, but he just knew.
They sat in silence, Trent still lying on the bed and Stan sitting on that ugly, minimalistic office chair. The all-overpowering silence was only occasionally challenged by the sound of Craig and Cartman arguing outside. Cartman really had a talent for that; he was so very good at riling people up only to scold them once they got angry at him. However, this time, Cartman wasn't the one who got yelled at.
"I don't get it," Trent finally mumbled, killing the awkward silence. "Why'd he do that crazy switch up?"
Stan shrugged, "I've honestly never seen him do that before. Maybe Tweek infected him with his crazy." He leaned back in the chair and looked up at the plastic stars covering Craig's ceiling. "It's weird though. He seemed kinda into it when you touched him, you know?" He kept from mentioning it, but he had an inkling feeling there was a little shame propelling Craig's sudden outburst. Shame at leaning into the touch perhaps?
Trent nodded.
"Well," Stan leaned back again. "Let's just hope Cartman's fixing your fuck-up. Otherwise, the plan's out the window." He could almost hear Trent question him before he even opened his mouth. So, he decided to answer, "Tweek's not touchy at all. Like, I think he hates touching people."
Trent's eyebrows furrowed, and he trained his eyes on his fingers. "He was with Kenny. I saw it."
"So, you weren't lying?"
"No," Trent turned to him with a cheeky smile. "I was just exaggerating."
Trent's words whirled around in Stan's head. What an interesting observation. But if Trent was really telling the truth, why would Tweek suddenly be all touchy with Kenny? Was it maybe a comforting gesture? Or was this because Kenny was single now?
However, he wasn't given long to ponder before the loud bang of Cartman slamming the door open filled his ears. And his annoying voice roared out in a way that was quite similar to a father giving kids orders. "Get ready, boys, we're going to Top Pot. Right now. Time to settle this little dispute."
Stan knew exactly what this meant. In mere seconds, he fished out his phone and texted Kenny. They needed to rig it, make sure they were 'right'.