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Craig honestly should've seen this shit coming when his dad offered to give him a ride after his shift ended at Tweek Bros Coffee, promising to grab burgers along the way. He also should've seen it coming when he exchanged thumbs up with Mr T--shit, Richard, he mentally corrected, still not used to being permitted to use the first name or the fact that Richard had been calling him "son" for nearly a year now--on the way out the door. Clearly something was up, but Craig was too damn tired after biking to school for morning practice, seven hours of class, then five hours of work. All he could focus on was the fact that he didn't have to bike home and his feet would get a rest.

That, plus burgers.

But now that the car was in park and Craig was looking out the windshield at what was definitely not McDonalds, it was all crashing into his head and he honestly wasn't sure how he didn't pick up on it before.

Didn't quite explain why they were at the pharmacy though.

"Uhh, Dad?" he questioned, sitting up straighter in the passenger seat, his long legs thankful they were no longer scrunched up against the dash. "What're we doing?"

His dad heaved a huge sigh as he cut off the engine, face resigned yet uncomfortable, a look he wore only once when he told the younger Tucker "I like gay Craig. I love my son" then gave him a hundred bucks.

Oh no.

Craig was about to be humiliated, he just knew it.

"We need to get something before we pick up dinner," his dad explained, voice taut like he was forcing himself to go through with it, and Craig felt dread pool in his gut like lead.

"No, we don't," he argued as he slumped back down in the seat. "Everything is fine."

"Son," was said with a sigh, making it painfully obvious that there was no getting out of this. "It's important. Please."

Fuck.

Craig muttered a swear under his breath then unbuckled his belt and got out the car, resigned to his fate. Whatever. Sooner he just went along with whatever this shit was, the sooner they'd get grub and head home.

His stomach growled with its own opinion and he rubbed it over his hoodie, sneakers scuffing on the sidewalk as he followed his dad. He was gonna devour a couple Big Macs and a super sized fries, possibly try to get a shake out of his dad for this shit. Had to love teenage metabolism for letting him eat crap like that and still stay lean.

That, and baseball.

The door let out an electronic beep as they entered and a cashier called out their hello. Craig just stared as his dad gave a forced wave back, his face more tense than before, like he was headed to the gallows. Or a prostate exam.

Oh fuck, Craig's eyes widened as he trailed behind his old man, heading down an aisle between perfume knock-offs and cheap body washes. Whatever it was they were there to do, it wasn't gonna be good. He glanced behind himself, wondering if it would be possible to sneak out...

He was the fastest guy on the team. Would be just like stealing a base during a game. Get a good lead, take off running, grab his bike off the back of his dad's car and head home on his own. No, McDonalds first, then home, his stomach pointed out, rumbling once more.

He probably should've had a more substantial after-school snack than a couple of Tweek's cupcakes.

They were damn good though.

Shit, thinking about them wasn't helping the whole hunger thing.

Running into something large and unmoving jarred Craig out of his thoughts and he looked forward to find his dad had stopped in the middle of an aisle. The pained look was back on his face, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and he cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking.

"This is it," he stated with a shallow sort of cheer, forcing a laugh out that rang just as hollow as his words.

Craig frowned as he turned to see what his dad was staring at, his eyes going wide and his face heating up instantly. Because his dad had brought them to the prophylactics aisle, had stopped in front of condoms and lube, and there was only one reason why a father would bring his son there.

Oh god.

"What the fuck, Dad?" he blurted out, turning his wide eyes on the older man, his cheeks on fire and skin prickling uncomfortably.

"Well," his dad began, shifting so he was facing his son, shuffling from foot to foot. "You and Tweek have been together for a while now."

Oh no.

"And you're both at that age where hormones are racing and thoughts are in your heads."

Oh. No.

"I don't know if you've already tried to or if you've. Experimented or anything, but Richard and I wanted to make sure you're both being safe and protected while you're being. Intimate with each other."

Oh fuck no.

It was worse than when PC Principal had sat him and Tweek both down to discuss "affirmative consent" and Craig had actually been forced to utter the words "can I take a gander at your asshole" to a kid he considered nothing more than a friend--at the time anyway. Because this was his dad, a man who admittedly hadn't been comfortable with his son being gay back when Craig's sexuality was a rumor based on art by a bunch of strangers. And it was in public, too, where Craig had no escape and anyone could be listening in.

He honestly wished the last part was paranoia created by years of being by the side of the most distrustful and freaked out person on the planet, but knowing how nosy and gossiping his small town was, Craig had a feeling it was closer to the truth than he was comfortable with.

"I know there's no way to stop you kids from doing it, if you haven't already," his dad went on and Craig shut his eyes and wished the ground would swallow him or those mutant turkeys would make a comeback, anything to get him out of this conversation. "But we figured if you had or if you're going to, you're gonna need the right stuff so. I'm gonna help you boys get it, as an early anniversary present."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"This way, when you two do, uh, do whatever it is you do, then you'll be better prepared."

"Tweek and I aren't having sex!"

Ah shit. He hadn't wanted to admit anything about his sex life to his dad, much less yell it in the middle of a drug store, but he had. He'd manage to lose control of himself, his emotions, his volume, being too loud as he admitted the fact that he and his boyfriend still had their v-cards, all because he wanted his dad to just. Shut the fuck up.

Glancing around, he caught several people staring in his direction, and his cheeks enflamed even more as humiliation licked up his spine. Fuck, shit, fuck. He tugged his hat down over his eyes, hoping it'd hide him. The town already knew too much about his relationship, was too goddamn invested in it as they clung on to the belief that supporting the local gay kids made them progressive and open-minded and not the rednecks others constantly called them. Now these random assholes in the pharmacy knew all about where he and Tweek stood and were bound to gossip about it to everyone they knew, overanalyze and discuss what exactly it meant that they were both teens and hadn't fucked yet.

"Uhhh," his dad let out awkwardly, and Craig swore under his breath more. "That's, uh. That's good to know, son. Or bad, depending on--I, I don't really know where you stand on that."

Shit, neither did he, which was a big part of the reason why he was still a virgin at all. He'd known for a long time that Tweek was gonna be his first for a lot of shit: boyfriend, relationship, kiss, love. Sex had been another one of those things, plus all the shit that led up to the act itself. But so far, all he and Tweek had really done was dry-hump a couple times, coming in their own pants. Hell, Craig had only seen Tweek's dick because he'd spent his first time drunk apologizing for not asking his boyfriend for permission to look at it during Butters' big "Wieners Out" rally in the fourth grade. Tweek had been tipsy enough to offer Craig a chance to see it now, PC Principal's voice talking about "affirmative consent" in his head the entire time. Both had been too far gone to do anything but stare at each other's dicks and laugh.

Point was, Craig hadn't gone all that far with his boyfriend, a guy who was paranoia and anxiety and way too much caffeine condensed into a five-foot-seven package of random shakes and violent ticks. He'd pretty much just assumed Tweek wasn't ready to go further and that if he was, he'd say something, so Craig had never given any thought to his own status. Yeah, he wanted to get laid, most teenagers did, especially boys, who seemed to be ruled by hormones and porn. But he wasn't entirely sure if he was mentally prepared for what a huge step it was. The two of them may have been together for almost six years, but it was six years of hand-holding, cuddling, and sneaky make-out sessions when one of them--Craig--ignored whichever parent's rule of "Keep the Door Open". None of that meant either one was ready for the next stage in their relationship.

Adjusting his hat back on his head properly, Craig gave him dad an expressionless look, ignoring the fact that his face still felt like it'd been shoved in an oven and was probably as red as a sunburn at that moment. "I'm not discussing this in the middle of Rick's Drug Store," he stated flatly, lowly, hoping like hell his old man would take the hint and drop it.

"Oh. Kay," was the awkward response he got, his dad clearing his throat once again. "Well, while we're here, let's just get you some. Stuff. For the future. In case things change."

Oh god, just kill him now.

Craig pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling long and low. It was obvious his dad had psyched himself up for this, talked himself into it. It was his own messed up version of support, like giving Craig money had been when he was a kid. Meaning there was no talking his dad out of this, that his only option was to just go along with it and get it over with as fast as possible.

"Goddammit," he muttered to himself, huffing out a sigh as he dropped his hand and turned to the items for sale with a wince. Fuck, he'd had no idea there was so much variety in just condoms. Ribbed, lubricated, ultra-thin, lube on the outside formulated for a female and lube on the inside formulated for a male, latex-free, lube free, countless sizes and brands.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was he supposed to choose?

It was then that he understood Tweek's constant screams over "too much pressure" and he felt like tugging his own hair out. Part of him wished the blond was there to help him pick, give him advice, but chances were it would just freak Tweek out too much and cause him to have an anxiety attack right there in the middle of the aisle. Probably best he had no clue about this trip.

Would've been nice to know if his boyfriend was allergic to latex though.

The lubricant wasn't any easier to choose from, varieties of flavored and unflavored and different flavors, water based versus silicone based, specially formulated for females, warming lubricants, tingling sensations. He was just as clueless on what to choose there.

"I don't suppose you and Tweek, uh, ever discussed any--"

"We've never talked about having sex, Dad," Craig cut him off, not entirely telling the truth. Sex had been discussed in the abstract, when they were younger and learning about it in health class, when their parents had given them "The Talk", and the two of them had exchanged commiserating stories they cringed through. They talked about how it would work for two guys, Tweek had screamed it was too scary and hid in Craig's hat, and Craig had assured him that it couldn't be scary if so many guys did it, not to mention they wouldn't be doing it for a long time.

Four years or so later and they still hadn't done it, hadn't talked about it.

For the first time in a long time, Craig felt like he was on shaky ground with his relationship.

The epiphany had his chest getting tight and his stomach twisting in knots and his skin prickling in discomfort. He'd given his relationship with Tweek everything he had from the moment they "got back together" after that staged break-up in fourth grade, even going to Mr Mackey for fucking counseling at one point. Tweek meant just as much to him as his parents and his sister, was just as important as his heart and his lungs. He was pretty sure he couldn't live without the spaz.

Didn't mean he was ready to have sex with the guy.

Or was he?

Right, that was a thought he needed to ruminate on another day. At that moment, he needed to just grab some shit and get the fuck out as fast as possible. His stomach growled, backing him up, and he scratched at his forehead before turning back to the condoms.

Seriously, what he wouldn't give for Tweek's help. And for his dad to not be standing right beside him, glancing back and forth between the items on the shelf and Craig, looking as uncomfortable as they both surely felt.

Okay, just get it over with, Craig told himself as he took in the plethora of colorful boxes, still feeling lost. His eyes came across a selection of variety packs and he felt the tension leave his shoulders as relief hit him like a wave. The end was near.

Or maybe not. Because now he had to decide what size of variety pack.

Three didn't seem like enough, he reasoned. He'd end up coming back not long after he and Tweek actually started having sex and he'd like to avoid that at all costs, put it off for as long as possible. Forty was too much, made him seem too eager and like a sex crazed freak who was planning on a fuck-athon. Was twelve enough? What if it turned out he and Tweek were both nymphos and they blew through those twelve in a week?

What if he was overhyping sex?

What if he was underestimating himself and his stamina?

Shit.

Holding back a huff, he snatched up a thirty-six pack, noting out the corner of his eye his dad giving him a curious frown. Craig just shrugged. "Value pack," he said flatly, pointing to the gold band with those words printed across the top. In his head, he justified the choice by pointing out how it was saving money and therefore smarter. In reality, he was just trying to play it safe by not buying too many or too few.

His dad let out a thoughtful hum, clearly not wanting to comment either way, most likely wanting the whole thing over with just as bad as Craig. Another awkward throat clear then he shot an uncomfortable smile and a wave at someone walking down another aisle, clearly watching them. Fuck, Craig seriously hoped they had no clue which aisle he and his dad were in, what they were currently looking at.

Then again, given his outburst, he'd probably given it away.

Fuck. All the fucks.

Breathing out another swear, he snatched up a couple bottles of lube, one water-based and one not, having no clue which would be better. Maybe he was supposed to get a specific kind made especially for anal. He could research that shit later, he figured, refusing to draw out this trip even further by Googling it in the middle of the store. Worse case scenario, he did need some special kind and he'd use what he just grabbed for jerking off. Was supposed to be better than lotion anyway.

Without a word, he turned and bee-lined it to the cashier, his dad's heavy steps following. The register was thankfully available and line-free but the lack of other customers also meant the cashier was able to chat away and shoot the shit. Goddammit. Craig was never in the mood for small talk, but the feeling was exasperated even more by his current circumstances. Hunger, humiliation, and a ton of aggravation due to both of the previous emotions.

Definitely gonna be experiencing more aggravation before he left the pharmacy, that was for sure.

With a resigned sigh, Craig approached the register and placed his items on the counter, feeling his dad draw to a stop beside him. The cashier gave him a friendly smile, greeting Craig by name, and the high schooler just gave the older man a nod in acknowledgment. The name tag said "Roger" but that didn't mean shit to him. Small town, yes, and while Craig was well-known both because of his accomplishments and having been made popular in the fourth grade due to being one of the subjects of a popular art movement and subsequent rumors, Craig himself didn't know everyone else, especially the adults. Still, he'd been raised to be polite and courteous, so he didn't scowl or curse or demand the older man to get a fucking move on and scan his shit.

But he really did want this old man to get a fucking move on and scan his shit.

Roger kept smiling, the expression disappearing as he turned his attention to the items on the counter. His eyes went wide and lips parted and he snapped his head up to give a questioning look to his dad. Craig watched out the corner of his eye as his dad nodded then looked away, probably thinking along the same lines as Craig, wanting this cashier to do his job already so they could get out.

Bobbing his eyebrows in an "okay then" manner, the smile returned to Roger's face as his focus returned to Craig. "Big night coming up for you and Tweek, huh?"

God, honestly, truly, just kill him now.

"Sir," he began, keeping his voice calm and emotions level, despite the fact that his skin was on fire and his stomach was churning. "I would really appreciate if you would just ring my items up."

Roger smirked and gave him a wink as though they were sharing a secret and Craig just narrowed his eyes. "Not a problem, kid," he replied with that same knowing tone as his face, grabbing the box of condoms and scanning them.

Craig braced himself for something going wrong, an item not scanning and the cashier having to make an announcement over the PA system for a price check on condoms or lube. But fate was finally giving Craig a break and everything beeped through with no issues, all popping up on the screen with the right prices and right names.

Thank. Fucking. God.

His dad's card went through with no issues and Roger put everything in a paper bag that Craig snatched up before rushing the fuck out of there. He reached the car and had to wait another minute for his dad to come out and unlock it, Craig immediately getting in the passenger seat. The paper bag was shoved inside his backpack where it sat on his floorboards, zipped back up and put out of sight, out of mind.

The driver's side door was opened then shut, his dad now behind the wheel and starting the engine, 80s rock music blasting through the speakers from a local station. Neither said a word until they were pulling into the McDonald's drive-thru line, the radio being turned down, and Craig spoke up.

"Dad?" he prompted, getting a questioning "yeah, son?" despite his father's eyes being focused on the menu board. "Thanks. We're never gonna talk about this again though."

"Works for me."

A brief pause, his dad pulling forward as a car finished placing its order, then Craig spoke again.

"I've earned a goddamn milkshake."

~*~*~*~*~*~

South Park High School had the same color scheme as South Park Middle and South Park Elementary. Green walls, gray lockers, brown floors. Dull, drab, boring.

Like school itself.

Craig was always amongst the first to arrive thanks to early morning practice for the baseball team. He used to be able to bike to school with Tweek but with the season about to get underway, he could no longer wait for his boyfriend and there was no point in the blond waking up early to just sit around and do nothing, especially when he was already lacking in sleep due to his insomnia.

So once practice ended and Craig had showered and changed, he waited by their lockers as always, side-by-side thanks to their last names following one another. His backpack was already stashed, traded out for the binder and text book he'd need for first period, and now it was all about patience, sticking around until his boyfriend showed, leaning back against the cold metal with hat buffering his head.

He checked his cell to make sure he hadn't missed any messages, only finding an "omw" and a bunch of heart and coffee emojis in response to the text he'd sent Tweek about his practice being over. The sight had a smile twisting up one side of his mouth and his heart beating faster. Over the years, his feelings for Tweek had changed, grown and developed as he had. He could honestly say that what he felt at that moment was deeper and more serious than what he'd felt when they were ten and he was sure it would be different than what he'd feel when he's twenty or thirty, older and older. There was no doubt in his mind that Tweek was It for him, that cheesy "first, last, and everything" for him. Was crazy to think he'd found that in elementary school but it just felt right to him.

Made the whole "not having had sex yet" thing seem a little crazy. Part of him wondered why they hadn't done it yet, another part of him wondered why the rush. To him, it felt like they had the rest of their lives to have sex. Waiting for the right moment was something they could afford to do.

Right?

He wondered why he was adamant on putting it off only to realize he wasn't, not really. He was avoiding an awkward conversation, that was for sure. Chances were when he brought it up with Tweek, the blond would have an anxiety attack and start yelling about all the things that could go wrong with sex, freak accidents that would never happen to them in a million years but Tweek would still be certain it would.

Shit.

Slipping his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, Craig muffled a sigh by smearing a hand down his face, trying to figure out how exactly he could approach the subject. Years of being with Tweek meant he not only knew how to help calm him but also how to prevent him from losing it in the first place. It was all about delivery, being diplomatic but not completely cold and unattached.

It was a careful balance and Craig still managed to screw it up at times yet he was confident in his Tweek-handling abilities.

He just needed some time to think it over.

"What's up, asshole?"

Craig dropped his hand to find Clyde leaning his shoulder against the lockers beside him, arms folded and cocky smirk on his face that had Craig wanting to punch the fucker. As it was, the grin that had been on his own face disappeared and he stared flatly at his friend, wondering why he was bothering him.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Clyde replied, smoothing down his letterman's jacket and checking out his nails, a clear sign that he was feeling especially haughty about something.

Fuck.

"Heard a very interesting story about you at Rick's Drug Store last night."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His face grew hot, but he ignored it and refused to acknowledge it, other than mentally willing the flush to fuck off. Craig glowered at Clyde yet said nothing, which only made his friend's smirk grow. The dick.

"So it's true, huh?" Clyde let out a laugh and Craig's scowl deepened. "It's funny, man. I always figured that out of all of us, you'd be the first one to get laid. Well, you and Tweek both obviously. But nope. Awesome badass Craig Tucker is a virgin, despite his last name rhyming with 'fu--'"

Craig punched him in his shoulder, hard, cutting him off. "Fuck you, Donovan."

His friend winced as he rubbed where he'd been hit, then rolled his eyes and snorted. "You're just pissed and jealous 'cause I've gotten more pussy than you."

Craig just stared at him for a long moment, voice completely deadpan when he finally spoke. "I'm fucking gay, Clyde. I came out six years ago. You were fucking there."

Clyde shoved him but Craig barely budged. "Fuck you. You know what I mean. I've gotten laid a shitload of times and you haven't gotten your dick wet even once."

Now Craig was rolling his eyes. For him, it had nothing to do with "getting his dick wet". If it was, he would've gotten laid years ago, the first out of their friend group just like Clyde had presumed. He wasn't with Tweek to have sex, wasn't in a relationship to have sex. Clyde would know that if he'd ever have one that lasted more than a month.

"Congrats on being a whore, Donovan," he deadpanned. "But there's more to life than fucking."

The brunet looked confused, almost disgusted, nose wrinkled as he shrugged and shook his head. "No, there isn't."

Craig just stared at him more. "You're a fucking idiot."

Folding his arms, Clyde smirked victoriously once more, chin tipped up like the smug asshole he was. "An idiot who gets laid."

Jesus Christ. Not a bragging point. And Craig was about to point that out when he got distracted by a head of wild blond hair out the corner of his eye. His heart rate kicked up at the sight of his boyfriend walking towards him, a grin breaking out across his face, light and stupid. Tweek's hair was going in every direction except the right one, his shirt buttoned wrong, his jeans ripped on one knee, and the laces on one of his shoes untied. He was a fucking wreck, but he was Craig's wreck, and he couldn't love the spaz more.

When he was close enough, Craig slung an arm around Tweek's shoulders and kissed his temple in his usual greeting. A wave of calm washed over him, all feeling right in the world with his boyfriend twitching against him. As much as he was able to get Tweek to relax and take a pill, Tweek had the same affect on him, chilling him out and getting his head to shut up when he needed it to.

Had helped last night when he and his dad had finally gotten home and Craig had Skyped Tweek, chatting with him as he wolfed down his Big Macs, large fries, and that goddamn milkshake he'd fucking earned. Was helping at that moment after Clyde's bullshit and the reminder of what he'd suffered the night before.

Tweek slotted perfectly against him, Craig having a good five inches on him, his arm sliding around Craig's waist as his other hand held on to the reusable coffee tumbler he always carried to school with him. Blue and green with a Guinea pig on it, a gift from Craig for their anniversary two years ago--or was it three? It was Tweek's favorite out of all the cups and mugs and tumblers he owned, paranoidly keeping it safe.

"What're you guys talking about?" he asked and Craig stopped nuzzling his face in Tweek's soft hair, tensing up momentarily at the reminder before he forced himself to relax lest his boyfriend feel how tightly he was wound.

Yeah, Craig had managed to forget about his trip to the drug store the night before, more distracted by his homework and Tweek's everything on their Skype call. Meaning the blond had no idea that Craig's dad had purchased them lube and condoms on their behalf, that it was also partially Mr Twe--Richard's idea, too. Finding out that their parents had been talking about their sex life behind their backs was not information Tweek needed, not to mention it would lead to a conversation Craig wasn't ready to have.

"About what an idiot Clyde is," Craig answered, shooting a hard glare at the mentioned friend, daring him to argue.

But Clyde proved to have at least a couple brain cells rattling around in his thick head, because he just scowled right back and called Craig an asshole, knowing the taller one could kick his ass. Craig may not have been in a whole lot of fights since entering high school--or any really, since he didn't wanna get kicked off the team--but he still knew how to, was still one of the toughest assholes out there. His dad continued to take him to the gym for boxing lessons on occasion, most likely another way of trying to handle having a gay kid, so Craig had never lost the skills that won him several aggro-fests in elementary and middle schools.

Tweek's heterochromatic eyes glanced back and forth between them, obviously not sure what was going on, what was missing, then shrugged it off and drank his coffee. Chances were he believed Craig, since talking about what an idiot Clyde was wasn't an uncommon conversational topic, and Craig felt a little guilty that he lied.

Sort of lied. He really had talked about what a moron Clyde was.

He reassured himself by thinking about how it was actually helping Tweek out. There'd be no paranoid shrieking over others talking about him and if it was bad and did everyone hate him. There'd be no anxiety attacks over the knowledge that his dad was one of those talking about him in secret. There'd be no freaking out over the pressure to have sex because Craig's dad had bought them this stuff, so obviously they had to use it.

No. Sometimes it was better to hide things until Tweek was ready to hear it.

Or forever. Forever worked, too.

Craig pulled his phone out his pocket to check the time then suggested he and Tweek get a move on to homeroom before they were late. Not dropping their arms, the couple made their way around Clyde, heading down the hall to the right class, making it a few feet before their friend spoke up over the cacophony surrounding them.

"We're gonna finish that conversation later, dickface!"

Craig just raised a middle finger aimed in his direction.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Through some miracle, no one else confronted Craig--or told Tweek--about what happened at the pharmacy the night before. He figured it was partially due to a shared embarrassment of buying condoms from nosy adults themselves, partially due to everyone being distracted by Cartman's latest ranting bullshit that had even Heidi screaming at him to stop it already.

Basically the day was uneventful.

Just the way Craig liked it.

After-school practice was cancelled due to rain and Richard had already given him and Tweek the day off from the coffee shop, so the couple headed back to Craig's house. Both of his parents were at work and his sister was out with her friends, leaving them awesomely alone, something Craig never realized he loved so much until he had it. The entire town was constantly watching them, their parents supported them by being overbearing, their friends were assholes dragging them into shit, and Tricia was a pain in his ass that constantly tried to hog Tweek all to herself. No, it was better when they were alone and he could monopolize the blond, be as greedy as he liked. Sneaking kisses in the back of Tweek Bros Coffee was fun--especially when Tweek got super red and flustered--but being alone in one of their bedrooms, no risk of anyone knocking or barging in, was a million times better.

For obvious reasons.

Craig dropped his bag off in his room, Tweek making himself at home on the double bed, a recent addition Craig had felt--at the time anyway--was a sign he was growing up and becoming a real teenager. It had also signaled the end of Tweek being able to sleepover, which Craig thought was bullshit, considering they'd been sharing the old twin bed he'd had with no issues.

Whatever. Parents were weird.

Tweek settled in and Craig offered to grab snacks and drinks, heading back down to the kitchen and starting up the Keurig for his boyfriend's coffee. From the cupboard above, he pulled down the mug that lived there just for Tweek, a gag gift from Craig that featured a garden gnome on it. Tweek had been mad at the time but got over it when Craig filled it with his favorite blend, leaving the mug at the Tucker house after Craig's mom suggested he have his own permanent cup there.

A smile formed on Craig's face as he rubbed his thumb over the printed image, at the knowledge that it was only for Tweek. The permanent mug made everything more solid, more real, more permanent in its own way. As anxious as the blond was, Craig wasn't entirely immune to worries and paranoid thoughts of his own, fears that Tweek would get sick of his cold, detached manner.

Not that he felt all that detached from Tweek. Not that he acted all that cold with him either. Hell, he was down here making sure his boyfriend got his coffee fix, making it exactly the way Tweek liked it.

Years of practice made him an expert at this point.

He grabbed a Dr Pepper for himself and a large box of Cheesy Poofs to share, gathering everything in his arms and carrying it all upstairs. His mind ran over all the shit he had to do homework wise, math problems and history review and reading chapters of the most boring book ever for lit class. Fuck, did he have science homework? He'd ask Tweek since they shared that class. Hopefully he would know.

Craig carefully ascended the stairs, eyes on the liquid sloshing in the mug, trying not to spill. Chances were Tweek would do that very thing himself so Craig liked to make sure he gave the blond as much as possible to begin with so he still got enough of the hot caffeinated drink. His feet scuffed the carpet as he entered his room and headed straight for the desk, carefully setting the drinks and snacks down.

"Got your coffee, babe," he announced, frown forming on his face when he got no response, when Tweek didn't rush over to grab it. Was something wrong? Had Tweek knocked himself out spazzing too hard? Craig hadn't even looked in his direction when he entered the room, too focused on the mug in his hand, so he had no clue if anything was wrong. Fuck, what if--

What if he took a goddamn pill and fucking stopped?

His boyfriend was rubbing off on him too much. He was supposed to be the calm one, the rock, the steady port in Tweek's storm. Paranoid thoughts like that weren't very steady rock-like.

Frown still pulling at his brow, Craig turned around to find his boyfriend still on the bed, Craig's backpack opened beside him, and...

And a brown paper bag in his lap that he was staring into with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Oh

Oh fuck.

Craig had totally forgotten that he'd shoved the bag from the pharmacy in his backpack, had totally forgotten to take it out once he got home. And now Tweek had found it, had opened it, had discovered the shit Craig had bought at his goddamn father's insistence.

Shit, shit, fuck, shit.

"Tweek?" he began cautiously, hands out as though dealing with a startled animal. "Babe? It's not--"

"What the fuck is this?!" Tweek screeched, hands flying about and bag rustling.

"It's not what you think, honey, I swear," Craig insisted, his boyfriend flailing more and knocking the bag onto the floor.

Where it spilled its contents like Kenny puking his guts out on a Saturday night.

Both boys just stared at the box of thirty condoms and two bottles of lube as they lay on the floor, splayed for all the world to see. Tweek let out a scream and tugged at his hair in a lifelong habit before turning wide eyes on Craig.

"How is this not what I think it is?! It's fucking condoms and lube! For sex!"

Okay, point proven, Craig had to admit with a bob of the head before he carefully, slowly, took a step forward. "True, but I promise, whatever you're thinking about me, it's not what happened."

"How?!" More hair pulling and Craig quickly closed the distance, tugging Tweek's hands away with well-practiced moves, trying for minimal hair being ripped out. He slipped his hat off, static crackling and black locks most likely unruly, then stuck it on Tweek's head, letting him pull at that instead.

"Tweek, honey, I need you to listen please," he requested, squatting down between his boyfriend's legs, hands resting gently on the blond's knees. Tweek let out a strained noise of acquiescence, fingers gripping the flaps of Craig's hat with white knuckles and body still twitching and jerking with fraught nerves. "Last night, my dad took me to the pharmacy to buy those things just in case we ever wanted to use them. It doesn't mean we have to, alright? We can wait as long as you want."

Tweek's jerks lessened to a low vibration and his hands loosened their death grip on Craig's hat before slipping off entirely. "What if," he began at a normal volume, covering the raven haired boy's hands with his own. "What if I don't wanna wait? What if I'm ready right now?"

Craig fell on his ass at that, gaping, hands slipping free.

All this time he'd been thinking of Tweek as this innocent, delicate little thing that most likely never even thought about sex, much less wanted to have it. But he wasn't. He was a teenage boy like Craig, with his own thoughts and desires and wants, and what he wanted... was Craig.

He was never gonna get used to his boyfriend wanting him as much as he wanted Tweek.

Tweek dropped his eyes, watching his trembling fingers pick at the hole in his jeans as he continued. "I mean, maybe not all the way at first. But I wanna take the next step, progress in our relationship, ya know?"

"Tweek," Craig breathed out, his chest tight and heart thumping wildly. "We don't have to do--"

"I know," he interrupted, smiling softly, mismatched eyes locking into Craig's blue ones. "But I want to. I really liked it when you moved your hips against mine when we made out. I wanna do more of that, maybe go further."

Craig's dick twitched in his jeans, totally on board with that plan, his brain fuzzing out as all his blood rushed south. But it still kept enough cognition to go over Clyde calling him a virgin loser and his dad telling him that he and Richard had been talking about the boys needing protection and fucking PC Principal's goddamn speech over affirmative consent.

"Tweek, can I touch your penis?" he blurted out without thinking, making his boyfriend giggle.

"Yes, Craig, you can touch my pe--"

He didn't get a chance to finish. Craig had burst off the floor and tackled him back against the bed, kissing him hard. And within a few minutes, they had opened their first bottle of lube together, discovering that jerking off was a million times better with it and a hand that belonged to the one you love.