The Craig Tucker Hate Club

"Can we eat before sex? I'm kind of hungry."

"Oh." Craig's face falls. "I mean, if that's what you want."

Kenny feels a pang of guilt and does his best to smother it. "Well, is that gonna be a problem?"

"Of course not," Craig says. He wrinkles his nose. "Why are you being an asshole this evening?"

"I'm not being an asshole!" Kenny says. "I'm—am I?"

Craig shrugs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black ripped jeans, which is impressive, considering how tight they are. "I mean, kind of, dude. That's the vibe I'm getting."

"Well, I'm not trying to be one!"

"If you say so," Craig says dubiously. "Look, have you been facetiming Kyle again? You know he riles you up."

"I've not talked to Kyle in, like, two weeks."

"Did you guys have a falling out again?"

"No!"

Craig raises an eyebrow like he doesn't believe Kenny, and whilst his suspicions are absolutely correct, Kenny's not about to give him the satisfaction.

"He's just busy with college stuff, and I'm busy with... not-college stuff." Kenny sighs and leans against the wall. It's a boring grey, just like everything else in this place. It makes his orange hoodie look practically luminescent, like a walking highlighter pen. "I'm sorry, okay?" Kenny grinds his teeth and looks at the floor, relenting. "I get that you were trying to be nice. I guess I am kind of being a jerk about it."

"That's okay, babe." Craig snakes an arm around Kenny's waist. "We all have bad days sometimes."

Kenny melts into his affectionate touch, something which he's always got an appetite for. "Look, how about I blow you and then we order a pizza, yeah?"

"I feel like City Wok, actually."

"We can get that instead."

"Great." Craig kisses Kenny on the cheek, and then the mouth, a little firmer. "Love you, babe."

"I love you too," Kenny murmurs, and he might have had something else to say, but Craig's already on him then, getting his hands back under Kenny's clothes, this time with the mission to get them out of the way. Kenny steps back to watch Craig pull his t-shirt over his head from behind, because weirdly that's his favourite part. There's something endearing about watching Craig grapple to fist the fabric in his hand before he gets enough of a grip to tug it upwards, a rare moment where he's not oozing confidence. What's underneath the shirt is pretty nice, too.

They kiss on the bed for a little while, until Craig complains about being cold, and so Kenny pulls the covers over them both. He melts into Craig's warmth, his security, his solid, smooth skin. His desperate desire to fuse his body with Craig's isn't even sexual, but with Craig, everything is made sexual.

He's so invested that he doesn't even hear the front door unlock. Not the footsteps either. But the "Guess who's flight landed early!" from down the hall is impossible to miss.

"Shit," Kenny breathes. "Tweek still has a key to your place?"

Craig's entire body goes rigid. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes dart frantically around the room, like he's assessing escape routes in the event of a fire. Just the one door, unfortunately, so they'd be roasted alive.

"I picked up some City Wok on the way here," Tweek says, voice growing louder as he advances. "I hope you're hungr—" He cuts himself off when he opens the bedroom door. The white plastic bag slips from his grasp and lands unceremoniously on the floor.