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1.
The neon lights of the college frat house pulsed in sync with a bassline so heavy it rattled the red solo cups resting on the crowded beer pong tables. Clyde Donovan had somehow convinced a house on Greek Row to bid him, and ever since, Friday nights meant crammed living rooms, warm beer, and the oppressive heat of too many bodies in one space.
Craig Tucker leaned against a peeling doorframe, completely unbothered. With his tan skin contrast against a dark navy sweater, dark hair falling into his eyes, and a cool, unblinking blue-eyed stare, he looked like an island of calm in the middle of a chaotic sea.
Or at least, he felt like he should look that way. In reality, his gaze was locked dead-set across the room.
Tweek was standing by the jungle juice bowl, looking unfairly soft. College had suited him. He still had that nervous energy, but he’d grown into it. His wispy blonde locks were pulled back on one side with a handful of cute, multicolored pastel hair clips that Craig had bought him for his birthday. His vibrant green eyes sparkled under the hazy party lights as he laughed.
Standing beside him was Kenny McCormick. Kenny had long swapped his ragged orange parka for a distressed vintage jacket, though his signature laid-back posture hadn't changed a bit. He was leaning against the counter with a red cup in one hand and a vape in the other, blowing a thin plume of strawberry-flavored smoke toward the ceiling.
"I’m telling you, man, macroeconomics is a scam," Kenny said, leaning in toward Tweek with a grin. "The professor gave me a D-minus because I answered every short-response question with 'in this economy?' Which is a valid point."
Tweek cracked a real laugh, shaking his head. "Kenny, that's literally not how an exam works. You actually have to write out the formulas."
"Nah, he’s just afraid of my mind," Kenny said smoothly. He shifted closer, resting an arm on the counter right beside Tweek, his eyes dropping to the pastel clips in Tweek's hair. He tilted his head, giving him a low, appreciative smirk. "You look good tonight, Tweekster. Honestly, if you were a triangle, you’d be acute one. And I don't even like geometry. I’m failing, actually."
Tweek snorted, rolling his eyes as he took a sip of whatever was in the jungle juice. "That was awful. Did you pull that off TikTok?"
"Hey, it worked enough to make you smile, didn't it?" Kenny leaned a little lower, his voice dropping into that breezy, effortlessly flirty tone he used on literally everyone. "Come hang out on the porch with me. I got a new pack of Camel Crush."
Before Tweek could even reply, a heavy, tan hand settled firmly on his hip, pulling him back against a solid chest.
Kenny blinked, his smirk widening as his eyes traveled up to meet Craig’s icy blue stare.
"Hey, McCormick," Craig said, his voice dropping low and completely flat. His thumb stroked a slow, possessive line against Tweek’s hip through his shirt.
"Damn, Tucker. Didn't see you standing up there in the clouds," Kenny chuckled, taking a drag from his vape. "Just talking to my boy Tweek. Calm down, bro, no need to mark your territory."
“We're going outside," Craig said, not giving Kenny an inch. "I can literally taste your burnt vape, Kenny.”
Tweek leaned back against Craig’s chest, completely relaxed. "Yeah, it’s getting pretty stuffy in here anyway. Catch you later, Kenny."
"Later, Tweek," Kenny called out, winking before leaning his head back to blow a lazy cloud of smoke. "And relax, Tucker. If you get lonely out there, you can always come back and hold my hand."
"He's annoying," Craig muttered, resting his chin on top of Tweek’s head the second the cool night air hit them.
Tweek reached down, interlacing his fingers with Craig's. "He's just being Kenny, Craig. You know how he talks."
"Still annoying," Craig grumbled.
2.
The campus branch of Tweek Bros. Coffee was dead at 8:50 PM. The soft chime above the door rang out as Craig pushed it open, pulling his chullo off his dark hair.
"Hey, babe," Craig said, his voice softening instantly.
"Hey! Give me like five minutes, I just need to lock the side door and wipe down the espresso steam wand," Tweek said from behind the counter, tossing a damp rag over his shoulder.
"Take your time." Craig slid into his usual booth in the corner, pulling out his phone.
A minute later, the front bell chimed again. Craig didn't bother looking up until he heard a low, dramatic voice that practically oozed misery.
"Sell me something that matches the bleak, soul-crushing reality of my existence."
Craig looked up over his screen. Leaning over the counter was Pete Thelman. Even in college, Pete hadn't abandoned the heavy black eyeliner, red-and-black hair, or the silver lighter he constantly flipped open and closed.
Tweek didn't even flinch. He just wiped down the counter with an unbothered expression. "Pete, we close in ten minutes. I can get you an iced Americano, but that's pretty much it."
Pete leaned his elbows on the counter, staring at Tweek with heavy eyelids. "Acceptable. Though honestly, your presence is the only thing keeping this corporate hellscape tolerable."
"Right. Four dollars," Tweek replied deadpan, tapping the register screen.
Pete flicked his lighter. "I found an original vinyl pressing of Bauhaus today at the shop downtown. I was thinking I could bring it over to your place. We could turn off all the lights, listen to it, and talk about how higher education is just a capitalist trap designed to drain our youth."
Craig’s phone shut with a loud, sharp snap.
He slid out of the booth, his broad frame moving quietly as he walked up behind Tweek. Pete was leaning so far over the register he was almost touching Tweek's apron.
"He has plans," Craig said, stepping up to the counter and using his height to completely block Pete's line of sight.
Pete slowly flicked his fringe out of his eye, giving Craig a tired glare. "Oh. The tall, aggressively mainstream boyfriend. What a joy."
"Pete," Craig said, his tone icy. "Tweek has an essay to finish. He doesn't have time to sit in the dark and be depressed with you."
Tweek peeked out from behind Craig's shoulder, totally unbothered by the tension. "Yeah, Pete, I'm actually stacked with homework tonight. Sorry."
Pete let out a long, theatrical sigh, pocketing his lighter. "Fine. Suffer under the weight of the system then. See you around, Tweek."
As Pete slunk out the front door, Craig turned around, wrapping his arms around Tweek’s waist and pulling him close against the counter. He rested his forehead against Tweek’s shoulder with a heavy grunt.
"He was totally hitting on you," Craig grumbled.
Tweek laughed softly, his fingers threading through the dark hair at the back of Craig’s neck. "Craig, he’s a goth. Complaining about existence is literally how he says hello. You get jealous over the weirdest stuff."
"He wanted to come to our room," Craig muttered, kissing Tweek’s jaw. "Not happening."
3.
It was a crisp Thursday afternoon, and the campus quad was packed with people hanging out between classes. Craig and Tweek were walking hand-in-hand toward the library, their fingers tightly laced together. Tweek was telling a story about his literature seminar, completely chill and smiling as the autumn breeze ruffled his blonde locks.
"Yo! Hey, hold up!"
A guy in a college track jacket stepped right into their path, stopping them cold. He completely ignored Craig standing right next to Tweek.
"Hey, sorry to bother you," the guy said, locking eyes with Tweek. "I see you around the humanities building all the time and I just thought you were super cute."
Tweek stopped, blinking in slight confusion. "Uh. Thanks?"
"I was wondering if I could get your Insta or your number? Maybe grab drinks this weekend?" the guy asked, taking a step closer.
Craig stood there in pure, unadulterated disbelief.
We are holding hands, Craig thought, looking down at their linked fingers, then back up at the guy. I am standing right next to him, holding his hand. Are you actually blind?
A hot wave of annoyance spiked through Craig’s chest. He didn't even say anything at first. He just stepped directly in front of Tweek, putting his massive frame between his boyfriend and the guy. Then, very deliberately, Craig raised their joined hands right up to the guy's eye level, letting him stare at their laced fingers.
"He's taken," Craig said. "And he's busy. Permanently."
The guy blinked, his eyes darting from their hands up to Craig’s sharp blue eyes and broad shoulders. The guy’s confident smile vanished instantly.
"Oh," he stammered, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "Oh, shit, my bad bro. Didn't see... yeah, my fault." He quickly backed up and melted into the crowd of students walking past.
Craig lowered their hands, his jaw still tight as he stared after the guy like he wanted to throw hands right there on the grass.
Tweek tugged on his hand, pulling Craig's attention back. "Craig. Babe. You look like you're about to murder him."
"He was blind," Craig muttered, looking down at Tweek. "Who does that?"
Tweek stepped in close, wrapping his free arm around Craig’s waist and resting his head against his chest. "You're ridiculous when you get like this. But it's kind of cute."
"I'm not cute," Craig grumbled, though he wrapped his arm around Tweek and kissed the top of his head anyway.
+ 1
By Friday night, Stan Marsh’s off-campus apartment was packed, but it was way more low-key than Clyde’s party. The living room smelled like pizza, beer, and whatever fruity vape Stan was currently puffing on while sitting on the arm of the sofa.
In the background, Kyle and Cartman were already standing near the TV, getting into a heated argument over who picked the absolute worst movie on Netflix.
"Cartman, no one wants to watch a three-hour documentary about WWII tanks, shut up!" Kyle yelled over the music, crossing his arms.
"It’s historical enrichment, Kyle, you uncultured piece of shit!" Cartman shouted back, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.
Over by the kitchen counter, Tweek was casually pouring himself a cup of water, completely ignoring the noise.
Then, Kenny slid over, leaning his elbow on the counter right next to Tweek. He took a sip of his beer and flashed a relaxed, crooked smile.
"So, Tweekster," Kenny said, his voice carrying that teasing charm. "You look way too relaxed tonight. I feel like you need some excitement. How about you ditch Tucker, come over to my place, and I'll make you the best gourmet meal of your life?"
Tweek raised an eyebrow, amused. "Gourmet meal?"
"Yeah. Kraft Mac and Cheese, but I put hot dogs in it," Kenny said with a straight face, winking. "It’s a delicacy. Total panty-dropper."
From across the room, Craig was sitting on the arm of a chair, watching the whole thing. His grip tightened around his cider bottle until his knuckles turned white. His blue eyes narrowed into absolute glare-daggers. Again? Craig thought, his blood starting to boil. McCormick is actually begging for a black eye tonight. I'm going to knock him out.
Craig started to push himself up, ready to march across the room and grab Kenny by his denim jacket.
But before Craig could take a step, Tweek handled it himself.
Tweek didn't stutter. He just let out a genuine, quiet laugh, reaching out to pat Kenny on the shoulder like a bratty younger brother.
"Kenny, you're an idiot," Tweek said smoothly, smiling. "Go offer your gourmet hot dogs to Clyde, he’s been complaining about being broke all week."
Kenny threw his hands up, laughing as he backed off. "Hey, can't blame a guy for trying. You're no fun, Tweekster."
Without giving Kenny another second of his time, Tweek turned away from the counter. His green eyes locked onto Craig across the room, and his expression softened instantly.
Craig froze mid-stride, watching as Tweek walked straight past the crowd, walking right up to him.
Before Craig could say a word, Tweek reached up, wrapped his hand around the back of Craig’s neck, pulled him down, and kissed him deeply right in front of everyone in the living room.
Craig’s brain completely short-circuited. The hot, ugly spike of jealousy melted away in an instant, replaced by a wave of pure, heavy warmth that settled deep in his chest. His long arm slid around Tweek’s waist naturally, pulling him flush against him as he kissed him back, letting his eyes flutter shut.
In the background, Cartman groaned loudly. "Ew, gross! Get a room, Tucker!" while Kyle muttered a quick "Shut up, Eric."
When Tweek finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed a soft, pretty pink, but his green eyes were steady, looking right into Craig’s sharp blue ones.
"I love you," Tweek murmured softly, his voice low enough that only Craig could hear. "You know that, right? I don't care about Kenny, or Pete, or anyone else on this campus. It's literally just you. Stop stressing."
Craig stared down at him, the realization washing over him with complete, quiet clarity. He’d been so focused on everyone else looking at Tweek that he’d forgotten Tweek only ever had eyes for him. He had absolutely nothing to worry about.
A soft and genuine smile broke across Craig’s face. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to Tweek’s nose.
"Yeah," Craig whispered, pulling Tweek in close and resting his chin on top of his messy blonde hair. "I know, babe. I love you too."