Hi, I have returned from my mini-hibernation! ^^ With some Creek! I've had this one lying around for a while, but was too lazy to type it up. XD It's totally out of season...Even though season really doesn't mean anything the way south park is, but maybe it was just me missing warm-er weather? I do live in England, after all... -.-

So yeah, go on. Don't let me stop you.

Disclaimer: South Park is Matt and Trey's. I am neither a dude, nor two people, thanks. XD

Like most things in life, pre-conceived ideas are useless. All they do is spawn unnecessary hate. The same goes for words; in concentrated, colossal heaps. Words from people's mouths often become nothing but garbage. This is how Craig Tucker felt, and many people around him had the pre-conceived idea about him that he was mindless, and unobservant. But Craig Tucker was the absolute opposite. He took it all in, everything, with little to no words. The difference between him and most observant people, however, was that he segregated things he found useless from the things that mattered. Like a filter, he held them all, yet rejected some.

A lot of people he'd seen and met weren't enough to hold his attention. They belonged in his 'unimportant' pile. They were his family, rich old men, and animals (besides the rodents. They were okay.). Then, there was his bed, his beloved hat, and his few friends that he deemed worthwhile; Token, his dark, mellow friend, and Clyde; his gung-ho, but fairly pansy-ish comrade. He'd known them since he was small, and yet, his lips still twitched when he imagined Clyde in tears at dropping his beloved Mexican cuisine on the floor, and Token knocking him lightly on the head in mild annoyance.

Then, there was his absolute favourite subject of all. The thing he was positive would hold him all his life:

Tweek Tweak.

The first thing to catch him was the abnormal name. He was sure there wasn't another soul in the world names like him. Unlike some of the other asshats he lived with. His bright, yellow hair, lustrous and long; beautiful and fanning out in absolute chaos. Vibrant moss green eyes that gave him that wild, caged look. His light twitches and ticks. Or the little whines he made in the back of his throat when he had a particularly creative thought. Their friendship was forged easily; the strange boy that broke the curve of simplicity he usually craved for had had a place at his side from the beginning.

Nobody bothered Craig and his friends when they were playing. Craig had swiftly become the alpha male of his pack, and Clyde and Token happily obliged, and fell into that routine.

Today though, as they played competitively and boisterously, Clyde and Token battling each other in a race to obtain their own dominance, if only for a little while.

It was November, and as usual, feathery dusts of snow sprinkled down on their mountain town, falling against the children's hair, and glistening like iridescent icing sugar upon their heads, and everything with in a hundred mile radius. His breathing was heavy, hitched and breaking, Craig remembered, as he approached him.

He'd been kneeling in the snow, peering down at the gaping tear in his trousers, tears in his eyes. He shook in the cold, wearing nothing more than a thin green shirt, buttoned un-correctly and exposing skin. His parents were idiots, Craig found himself thinking, gazing at him with pitiful caramel eyes.

"Hey, Tweek." He remembered himself calling, his gloved hands shoved deep within his blue hoodie. Said boys raised his eyes sadly, flinching and whimpering as he remembered their first encounter.

But he would soon learn that Craig wasn't a violent person. He didn't learn through his fists and emotions like most young children, but by watching other's experiences. It wasn't particularly amusing to him, but it was habit.

When he said nothing more, Craig continued; for whatever reason, silence from that boy was maddening. "Get up." He said. He wasn't going to ask how it happened. He didn't ask questions, especially obvious ones.

Tweek complied, doing so with obvious pain. Though it was clotting, blood still oozed sickeningly from the gash in his knee. He waited to be hit, or rebuked, twitching and closing in on himself, slightly hunched over. Craig noted that his eyes stayed focused, however.

"You're stupid." He commented dryly. To his surprise, Tweek nodded, his gaze falling.

"I know." He replied.

Craig sighed lazily, flipping the young boy off and placing his favourite chullo on the chaos of Tweek's head. His own black tresses fell limply into his eyes and around his face. He turned, taking a few lethargic steps before pausing. He sighed again. "Are you coming?" He asked.

"Where?" Tweek questioned, though he'd gingerly fallen into a quiet trot just a few paces behind.

Craig paused again, only to feel the gentle, unexpected warmth of Tweek's body colliding with his back.

"Your knee is bleeding. Don't ask stupid questions."

He elaborated no further than that. Flipping him off one more time, he then proceeded to head towards the school entrance, sensing that Tweek followed behind.

It was strange, Craig found himself pondering, how much you could learn from a person, by simply observing them. No movement of the lips whatsoever, and yet, you could still know a fair amount about that person, just by watching them. Or maybe he'd just had lots of practice.

Tweek Tweak, his dearest companion, was no exception to this epiphany of his. You could even say that he was his muse, behind the theory. Tweek had been by his side since they were nine years old, and never left him. If they hadn't been mislead by those assholes in the beginning, maybe they would have been closer sooner. But for his little blonde friend, forgiving and forgetting was second nature.

And so he continued to observe Tweek, and see the changes in him as time went by. Some people would have seen it as him mothering the boy, or some other form of 'obsession', as he liked to call it, but he generally just found Tweek fascinating.

When they were twelve, they learned that Tweek has epilepsy, when he'd had a seizure in school. Most people had been satisfied, and marked that as the reason he twitched. Craig knew better. Tweek didn't even always suffer from that kind. There were the ones he hated the most, where he'd be deadly still, and get a vacant stare. He hated him not moving more than he hated the silence. His parents had been forced to restrict his daily coffee intake, which he'd been furious about, and wean him onto decaf, as well as put him on drugs for the first few months. After a while though, Tweek hadn't wanted, or needed them anymore. He'd taken up piano, as recommended by his therapist, to channel all the extra energy he had into something 'productive'. Craig had spit on the theory, but later regretted it, the first time he heard him play.

It was amazing, how fast his fingers worked, being so slight and delicate. They flitted across the keys magically; playing a bittersweet tune he'd composed all himself. That was at fifteen; he'd developed a liking for classical music, or rather Tweek's music. He'd spend entire afternoons at his home; just spreading himself out on a couch and watching him not even play a song, but just press at the keys listlessly. The sunshine that pooled in through the window hit his pallid skin perfectly, and his happy smile was worth it. Any sound that came from him was music.

Now, at present day, its spring, and for once, there isn't any speck of white in sight. Totally unnatural for the season it was. It made their dreary town seem awfully...Normal.

Together, they sat in Harbucks, Tweek's family's coffee shop, and he watched as his lips wrapped around the soft lid of the top of a cup of coffee. He could see his eyes rolling beneath their eyelids in pleasure as the warm liquid travelled down his throat. With a satisfied twitch, he moaned, leaving Craig to fidget in hid seat slightly as his mind wanders. It softened from sexual thoughts though, when he saw that smile again. And he thought about what he'd learned that year, that Tweek had given him.

How his lips are smooth, and soft, and his eyes he'd found wild, were endless, and knowing. When he saw him blush, or his eyes shut tight in ecstasy, how his stomach would churn and knot at the thought of it all. And how, at the end of the day, he'd fit perfectly into his arms.

When Tweek finished, they reluctantly left, stepping into the onslaught of rain carefully. Though it was late spring, it was still South Park, and so the snow was substituted for rain that was icy and sharp, like daggers piercing invisible holes in their skin. Tweek put a translucent umbrella up above his head, watching as it shielded him from the rain, but in return, showered violently in a neat circle around him. He murmured something incoherent about curses, lowering his head and shaking the thought away. Even though it was big enough for two, maybe three, Craig refused the offer to join him underneath.

He gave a particularly strong spasm in return, concerned as he chided Craig about the merits of health, and the risk of pneumonia. It soon warps from informative advice, to panicked exaggerations, however, But Craig found himself listening to it all anyways, raising his face to the bitter rain. It slid off of his face, replaced by more, in a vicious cycle. If he squinted through the initial hardness of the liquid pellets, he found it was actually therapeutic.

A moment of silence passed between them, but as usual, it's comfortable, and gentle, both able to bask in each other's presence. At last, it was broken by the blonde, who cocked his head to the side to speak. "Why d-don't you care, Craig?" He asked. It wasn't maliciously, but it held some kind of sadness, Craig realised.

He blinked some rain out of his lashes, and peered at the shorter boy's blur from behind the umbrella. "You only live once. Why not naturally?" he shrugged.

"Oh, so you'd -ngh- w-walk around naked?" he argued.

"No. It's not normal to do that anymore." At the back of each other's minds, they imagined a time when it was, and cringed.

"But neither is –ugh- walking in the rain!" It was clear that he wasn't going to give up easily. Craig could easily see that maybe it was more than their little squabble that bothered him.

"For some people it is." He said. He didn't want Tweek to worry about him. He already worried about so many things...Why would he want to add to that self-inflicted baggage?

One last time, he asked, "Please, -ngh- Craig. Come under my –agh- umbrella." This time, to quiet the tempest brewing in him, he obliged, ducking his head skilfully, and working his foot into step with the tense figure next to him.

He chuckled to himself, having had a grain of thought that had just become useful to him. "Did you know in Japan, sharing an umbrella with someone is supposed to symbolise closeness...?" A blush flared on Tweek's cheeks, spreading and pooling to the rest of his face. "W-why did you look that up?" He pondered, curious.

"I didn't," Craig murmured nonchalantly. "I just picked it up from somewhere."

Tweek nodded to himself. That sounded right, because, after all, he knew Craig was an observant person, really. He froze in his tracks. "Would that-ngh- have something to do with your 'only live once' philosophy? Collect all the knowledge you can in that –nn- time...?"

"No." He said, having stopped less than a heartbeat after him. "Only the shit that matters."

"Then why-?" He couldn't finish, though, his hand holding the umbrella freezing as Craig held it, creeping closer to his face until he captured his lips in his. Immediately, his had had gone limp, and the offending umbrella tumbled to the ground, forgotten. Craig pressed his already wet mouth eagerly up against his dampening one while the rain pelted at his golden hair, for once beaten by the precipitation. The fairly long, darkened colour flattened against his face, and in his eyes, dripping and streaming with the heavy rain. He pushed back, just as strong, a yelp becoming a moan as Craig used the opportunity to push his tongue into his mouth. The raindrops protrude in the moment, mixing with their warm saliva and seasoning their desperate kisses with a flavour they've never tasted before parting for breath, Tweek panted heavily, a grin on his lips as he realised what Craig was getting at before. Then, completely drenched, not one dry crevice of their skin, he dove back in for more, his mind savouring the added flavour the rain left in his mouth.

That day, Craig had learned a collection of things: How impish a horny Tweek was capable of looking in the rain, how he was torn between his wild, untameable locks, pr his long, rain-saturated mane. His most treasured memory of that day, however, that would undoubtedly hold a special place in his knowledge filter, was how, like a bee to nectar, Tweek Tweak tasted that much more irresistible in the rain.

Good? Bad? Too fluffy?

I should probably go and write a multi-chap fic soon...XD My one-shots must be getting stale...

Leave me your thoughts on the way out! Or requests!