Quarters for a Five Dollar Bill

Chapter One

Stan Marsh didn't even know why he came back to this shitty ass town. Oh wait, no, he did because of his hard ass of an agent that couldn't keep her fucking nose out of his life. Christ, a fucking high school reunion? She said it would be a good time to take a break and just lay low given the tabloids' heat over the Miami incident. Heh, Miami. Now that had been a blast. He got so fucking shit faced, went to a hotel room with a couple of seriously hot Cubans, and the next day there were photos all over the Internet and rumors of a possible video. There had been a meeting with the team managers, investors, and coaches and everyone agreed that he should just take a couple of weeks off to get his shit together. The under laying message that Stan got was go sober up and readjust your priorities or we're sending you fucking packing.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He really hadn't seen his folks in a while and that was the most important thing. He just hated the idea of going back to fucking South Park. There was nothing for him there. When he called his mom to let her know he'd attend the reunion she sounded overenthusiastic. Said he could catch up with his friends, they were doing pretty well for themselves these days, and called often to check up on him. He snorted, doubtful. If they wanted to see what he was up to all they had to do was pick up the latest copy of US Weekly.

"You're a wreck waiting to happen," his agent said as she handed him his carry on bag. "Seriously take some time to just chill out. Avoid the drink. Talk with your family. Didn't your sister have a baby not too long ago?"

Oh yeah, Stan thought. He was an uncle now.

His agent gave him a tight smile. "I'll see you here in two weeks. Have a good vacation."

Stan rolled his eyes and shuffled towards security. At least the airport had been accommodating enough to let him breeze through all the bureaucratic bullshit of the ticket lines so that in only half an hour he was sitting in first class waiting to head back to Denver. From there a driver would take him to his parents' house in South Park. His mother insisted he stay at home instead of checking into a hotel. She had a surprise for him when he got there, she said.

He spent most of the flight dozing in and out. He had one last hurrah at a teammate's house the previous night. No one had kept alcohol from him but the girls had all been convinced to stay away. He was better off, anyway. He really couldn't trust any of the chicks that made their way to the clubs or VIP events he attended. One of the flight attendants woke him up as the plane taxied to its gate at Denver International. Somehow his agent had gotten the press off his heels for his arrival. It was the quietest trip to the airport he had experienced in a long time. When he exited baggage claim his driver flagged him down and in no time at all he was staring out the window as the mountainous wintry landscape flew by. He sat up in his seat when he spied the sign welcoming travelers to South Park.

"I'm home," he grumbled, feeling oddly depressed. He glared as the driver took him through the town towards the suburban section on the other side. Stan had mixed feelings seeing the familiar yet foreign streets. It looked like most families hadn't ever left.

Finally they pulled up in front of the Marsh residence. Before he had fully gotten out of the car the front door opened. His mother came out first a huge smile on her gracefully aging face and jogged to him with her arms out wide. He smiled awkwardly back and accepted her hug amazed at how tiny she was now compared to his bulking form.

"Stan," she cried happily and hugged him firmly around the middle. "I'm so happy to see you, baby."

"Missed you too, Mom," he allowed himself a genuine smile. No matter what kind of a funk he was in he could never really take it out on his mother.

"Randy, come on out," she called towards the house taking a firm hold of her son's hand.

Randy Marsh shuffled out of the house shivering slightly at the cold wind and shoved his hands into his pockets before meandering down the pathway. His father's hair was graying at an alarming rate but he still seemed like his same old stubborn self.

"Welcome home, Stan," he smiled. Stan felt surprised again to see that he had outgrown his other parent as well.

"Hey dad, how's it going?"

His father nodded and helped the driver with Stan's bag. Stan made a move to get it but his mother tugged firmly at his arm.

"Let Randy help out, come on inside and see what I've done!" He followed her inside the warm house. She clawed at his coat hanging it on his old peg in the closet and poked him in the small of his back in the direction of the stairs. He climbed them with her hot on his heels talking about how Shelly would be coming in with the baby and her husband the next morning. She wiggled around him and put a hand on his bedroom door. He looked at her, not really sure what to expect and she gave him another smile. They were starting to break his heart for some reason. She pushed the door open and together they peered inside.

"It's the same," he marveled.

When Stan came home during the last holiday break of college he had gotten into a huge fight with his father. They almost came to throwing fists and wrecked quite a few of his mother's favorite dishes in the process of their argument. All he could remember about it was that Sharon screamed at him to not leave as he did just that. He didn't even let them know when his graduation was. He walked off the stage with his Bachelors in English and straight onto the bus heading off to his first professional football training camp. It had only been a couple of years now since he began sporadic communication with his family again. Mostly it had been Shelly's fault what with her getting married and threatening to fly out to where he was and drag him kicking and screaming to her wedding. Looking around the room he felt ashamed for being so immature. He couldn't even remember what that fight had been about.

His father walked in with his suitcase and Stan took it from him easily moving it out of the way. His father tried to hide the overexertion required for him to bring it up the stairs and Stan wished he had insisted on carrying it himself.

"I got it all set up for you and cleared out the dressers and put hangers in the closet," she squeezed his arm and went to stand next to his father. "I'm so glad you're home, Stanley."

He smiled at her in return and put his carry on next to his bed. They left him alone to unpack and freshen up after the long flight. Stan rubbed at his eyes and ears wishing he could take a nap. He lay back on his bed and stared at the same view of the ceiling he had known his entire life. It didn't quite feel like home in the sense that he felt safe. It did feel familiar enough for him to let his eyes flutter shut. Just for a few minutes, he thought.

When he opened his eyes the sun had already set. He grunted as he got up into a sitting position and rubbed at his forehead. Only the stars in the sky seemed to bring any light to the room. It cast long, eerie shadows over little league trophies, certificates from middle school, and a sloppily pinned up collection of photos he recognized as being from high school. He walked to his desk, flipped on the familiar wire lamp and smiled at the photos.

Four adolescents made silly faces back at him. He studied their faces naming them in turn. Kyle, nothing but the end of high school could keep them separated. Kenny, from what he understood the bastard never made it anywhere but maybe that would be different when he met up with him again. Cartman, intent on being part of their group through high school then fled to the east coast to study near D.C. He smiled wryly wondering what the fat fuck was up to now. Then he looked at himself awkwardly growing into an athlete's body, smiling like he didn't have a care in the world, and with all sorts of possibilities in front of him. He looked sadly at the photograph. What had happened? He switched off the light and headed downstairs to check on his parents.

Shelly, her husband, and the baby surprised the family by showing up just half an hour before Stan had woken up. She gave Stan a mocking smile and hugged him around his middle.

"Jesus, Stan, you've got more muscles than a horse at the races," she punched him in the arm. Stan barely felt it.

"Kind of essential for my line of work, don't you think?"

"We saw your commercial the other day for that sports drink," her husband, George, grinned and shook his hand. "It was some kind of impressive."

Stan waved a dismissive hand. "I don't know why they insist on making athletes appear in commercials with all those special contrasts and effects."

They laughed and Sharon brought in his niece. The women playfully scolded him as they tried to get him to hold up her head properly. She looked incredibly small tucked into his arm and he stared dumbly as Shelly insisted on showing him how to feed her. He blinked at her tiny hands and bitty fingers. He felt as though he could breathe on her and they'd break into a thousand pieces. Eventually Sharon took her back cooing over her sleepy face and asked Stan that awkward question he hated answering.

"So when are you going to settle down, hm?"

He grimaced. "Gotta find someone first, right?"

"From what I hear," Randy piped up over his newspaper, "you've been looking in all the wrong places."

"Randy," Sharon hissed and clicked her tongue as she turned back to Stan. "Ignore him. It was a bit of a shock."

Not even the people in charge of his career could make him feel as horrible about the incident as he did at that moment. His entire family staring at him with obvious disapproval but trying to hold their tongues; it made him feel wretched. Since when did his family have to walk on eggshells around him? He wished the week would hurry up and end more than ever at that moment.

They had a peaceful dinner with conversation primarily led by Randy and George discussing whatever it was that his brother-in-law did to provide for his family. Stan watched as Sharon and Shelly shared laughs over the faces the baby made. Stan felt incredibly out of place and excused himself the first available moment. He took a quick shower; finally washing the last of the tension accrued from the flight from his body and put on a pair of sweatpants before climbing into bed. He had slept for so long that he shouldn't need to sleep but as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out like a light.

The next day Stan woke up from sleeping in late for the first time in a long time. He took another shower and got dressed in the suit his agent had packed for the reunion. As he headed down the stairs he fumbled with his tie and indulged his mother in a little spin as she exclaimed how handsome he looked. His father handed over the keys to their second car and after putting on his coat Stan headed off towards the reunion. Someone thought it was an inspired idea to hold the thing at the county recreation center. Stan was not surprised he didn't get lost despite having been gone for years.

He hadn't known what to expect when he arrived signing in at the designated registration desk and pinning his name to his suit jacket. He received a few awed looks from people he vaguely recognized and immediately found himself being passed from person to person. Men shook his hand exclaiming they had bragged to all their work buddies back home they went to school with him. A few women gave him light hugs. He only recognized Wendy Testaburger, who gave him a light pat on the shoulder and introduced him to her husband. He smiled and nodded as everyone introduced their spouses and talked about their lives since school. No one asked about his life: professional or private. It kind of made Stan feel like an outsider despite all the attention he was getting.

"Hey, Stan," a voice called from behind him. He turned around slowly and saw two familiar faces grinning back at him.

"Kyle, Kenny! Where have you been?" They exchanged very masculine hugs and pats on the back. Kyle talked animatedly about his work at his father's law firm.

"Well, it's Broflovski & Sons, now," Kyle grinned.

"Sons? Ike is going to law school, too?"

"Finishes next fall," Kyle nodded.

"Jesus," Stan ran a hand through his hair. Ike Broflovski had always been three steps ahead of where you thought he'd be. Kenny didn't have much to share. He had steady work at a local garage. The pay wasn't too bad and he had been toying with the idea of going to electrician's school.

Both were married.

"We're expecting our first in four months," Kyle looked sheepishly at his feet.

"Wow," Stan breathed. "That's great, Kyle. You, too, Kenny. Really. I'm happy for you both."

"So you're living the life, huh," Kenny leered at him.

Stan rolled his eyes. "I'm supposed to take this time to get my shit together."

Kyle nodded and shuffled from one foot to the other. "You'll get it together, Stan. You always have."

"Yeah," Kenny smiled encouragingly. "Hey, I didn't mean to bring you down or anything."

Stan patted his shoulder. "No worries. Where are your wives, anyway? Don't I get to meet them?"

"She's been talking about nothing else," Kenny rolled his eyes with a grin and waved over to two women standing at a nearby table. Kenny put his arm around a plain yet pretty brunette. Kyle smiled and locked hands with an energetic looking woman with curly dirty blonde hair showing an obvious pregnancy. Stan posed for the obligatory photos with his friends and their wives. They talked about Cartman, who didn't show up, and his asinine crusades he was carrying out in the capitol.

After a while the reunion began the usual opening of a dance floor for the classmates to dance to songs from their youth. Stan waved off his friends as they led their wives to the floor and wandered around the vacated tables occasionally he would look up and laugh at the crowd. He noticed he wasn't the only one in the room not participating. Leaning against the wall beside the refreshments table and a speaker just like he did at every social function and illegal party throughout high school was Craig Tucker.

Stan blinked and made his way over to him. Craig was staring down at his dress shoes holding a cocktail in one hand with the other tucked behind his back. Craig had not been the closest of friends to Stan but some inexplicable force was pulling him towards him. Stan let his footsteps fall a little heavier as he approached to let Craig know he wasn't alone. Craig slowly raised his head and Stan raised an eyebrow in surprise. Craig had been the awkward wallflower of their class but now he was downright handsome. He had grown his hair out some in the front letting it fall a little in his grey eyes and filled in his bony facial features nicely.

"Well, well, well," Stan murmured with a light smile. "Craig Tucker."

"Marsh," Craig acknowledged with a smirk. "You look good."

Stan felt his pulse quicken something that hadn't happened since he asked a girl out to his first co-ed dance. "Fuck that, you're so… different."

Craig's lips twitched but held their smirk. "People change, Marsh. Though, everyone else says I haven't changed."

"Everyone else is blind. Mind if I join you?"

Craig inclined his head and Stan took up position against the wall next to him. They watched the dance floor filled with their former classmates and said nothing. After the third song change Stan tilted his head towards Craig.

"You want to sit and have a chat?"

"That's the point of these things," Craig glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. He kicked himself off the wall with one foot. Stan followed watching him slink like a cat to a table as far as possible from the dance floor as they could get. Stan smiled to himself as they sat down and fiddled with their drinks.

"So what are you up to these days, Craig Tucker?"

Craig rested his head on his propped up arm and looked at Stan. "I'm a teacher."

This took Stan by surprise. "No kidding."

Craig nodded once. "I teach in Denver at a high school specializing in at-risk kids."

Stan felt his eyebrows rise. "Impressive. What subject do you teach?"

"History," Craig scratched his ear. "I work with sophomores and juniors before you ask."

"That's really great, Craig," Stan smiled. "So what kind of kids are these?"

"Mostly from lower income families at-risk or already have involvement in gangs, teen pregnancy, and ESL. There are a lot of students you see on television that look like all they need is a good spanking or something. These kids really need the extra time."

Stan shook his head in wonder. "Obviously they're in good hands since you seem to really have it together."

Craig smirked again at this and set his glass down on the table. "It takes a lot of dedication and focus to make a difference."

Stan nodded lightly suddenly feeling like someone dumped a bucket of icy water down his back. "You too, huh?"

Craig chuckled. "I won't pry. I don't even really pay particular attention to sports anymore. I only know about your problems because of the kids."

Stan felt his face flush. "That's amazing, Craig."

Craig titled his head slightly and raised an eyebrow in question.

"The way you look when you talk about your students, I mean."

Craig's shoulders tensed and he looked uncertainly at Stan. "How long are you going to be in town?"

Stan sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm supposed to take two weeks off to get my act together. I was planning on staying for one."

Craig nodded and shifted in his seat. "Well, if you get bored with this shit hole of a town you are more than welcome to drop by in Denver. The kids—" Stan's lips parted as he saw Craig force his classic expression of indifference on his face "– the students would love to see you."

"That'd be great," Stan smiled softly. "What is the name of the school?"

Craig scratched the side of his face with his index finger then pulled out a pen from an inside pocket of his suit jacket to jot down the name and address. He slid it over to Stan and rapidly clicked his pen open and close as Stan's eyes scanned the napkin.

"There's extra here," he said in confusion.

"That's my phone number," Craig said softly. "In case you can't make it to the school and want to catch a meal or something."

Stan looked up at him. Craig gave him another smirk and Stan felt himself smiling again. He hadn't genuinely smiled this much in so long.

"You know, since everyone's preoccupied with spouses and the like," Craig shrugged a shoulder.

"And what about you?"

"What about me," Craig asked.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Craig shook his head slowly before the most incredibly sexy smirk split across his face. "I could be."

Stan turned his head towards another vacant napkin and motioned for Craig's pen. He jotted down his own number holding it out to Craig between two fingers.

"Everyone says it but," Stan felt himself using a familiar smile usually reserved for people he wanted to seduce into his bed, "call me."

Craig's lips parted in amusement and he carefully plucked the napkin from Stan's grasp, their fingertips lightly brushing. They spent the rest of the reunion looking at each other with small smiles. Their separate groups of friends claimed them during a presentation of pictures from the past. Kyle would laugh and recount stories Stan had long forgotten to his wife. Kenny would make sassy remarks about the amount of pictures the reunion committee members put in of themselves.

"Some things never change," he said. Stan found his eyes drift in Craig's direction and smiled secretly when Craig seemed to feel his eyes and faced him in return.

"Some things do."

A/N: Heh, another StanxCraig fic. This one's only three chapters long and totally already done but I'm holding off on posting it all at once so I can do some more edits. It might seem kinda disjointed but smut is the name of the game and title has… well, I guess it has relevancy if you think on it.