Another fic for a darling friend. Hope you all enjoy it as well~

"At the sound of the tone the time will be…"

Tweek's gaze darts from the black and white movie playing on the television to the microwave's glowing clock display a few feet away.

4:59 AM.

In a matter of seconds Craig's alarm will sound, hours earlier than he'd like it to, so he can get ready and hop a train to make it to a lecture he has to attend for class.

In a minute, maybe two, Craig will wander into the living room and see Tweek here, still on the couch, right where he left him last night. Not in bed. He'll know that Tweek has been awake all night again. It's the second night in a row that Tweek hasn't slept and he knows it's not healthy, knows he really needs to rest, but there's nothing he can do about it.

Insomnia is something he's struggled with since he was a little kid, and while he's always been able to blame it on drinking way too much coffee before, he's switched to decaf recently. Now he has to come to terms with the fact that there is simply something wrong with him, has to admit that to Craig, and he hates to have to do that to him. To add another wrong to the long list of things that aren't quite right about him, the things that Craig has to deal with.

The clock display shifts seamlessly from one minute to the next, 5:00 AM, and after a few seconds of breathless delay, the alarm at Craig's side of the bed goes off. It beeps loud, loud, louder still until, Tweek guesses, Craig fumbles to shut it off.

Tweek looks quickly to the television, watching Cary Grant vent his frustrations on screen, focusing so closely he misses the jokes. If he concentrates hard enough maybe he can just pretend he's not still awake.

There's a heavy sigh behind him and he knows it's no use. He flinches as he turns around to stare up at Craig, seeing him blinking sleepily in the doorway.

"You didn't sleep?"

He gets right to the point, leaving Tweek hanging his head in shame.

"Hm...n-no. Couldn't."

Craig sighs again and walks up to stand behind the couch, reaching up to ruffle Tweek's hair affectionately. It's already a mess, much like the rest of him. Tweek would rather Craig not see him like this. His ever-present dark circles are darker than ever, glaringly apparent in the sickly glow of the television. And even if he doesn't look much different, everything about him feels as though it's sinking, dragging down under the weight of too many hours spent awake.

If Craig has anything to say about his condition, his all too obvious problem, he doesn't make it known to Tweek. Instead he asks, "What're you watching?"

Tweek's twitch is more pronounced in his overtired state, his shoulders jerking weakly with the motion, " 'Bringing Up Baby.' Craig, please never b-bring home a leopard."

On screen, Katharine Hepburn sweetly explains to a disgruntled cast of characters that her pet leopard is missing, and that he's really quite friendly. Hilarity ensues, though no one outside the television is laughing.

Craig furrows his brow and watches the movie for a moment before shaking his head, dismissing his concern. "I never see any leopards."

Craig has brought animals home from work before- a dog or two, a few hamsters and guinea pigs, all temporary members of their home, held onto until the poor creatures were rehabilitated and sent off to happy families.

Tweek nods, relieved that the likelihood of his coming home to find a wild cat in the house is slim, and pulls his legs up to his chest. He watches Craig move around the kitchen, making toast, more interested in him than the movie.

"Could you check the weather for me?"

Craig's request is more than welcome, a small thing that Tweek can do for him, to be helpful.

He picks up the remote control and flips to the local news station, settling in to wait for them to finish talking about traffic.

"You think maybe you should try something to help you sleep?" Craig asks from the kitchen, not looking up as he butters his toast.

Tweek hunches his shoulders up, frowning, "I-I don't like medi-ngh-cation."

"I know," Craig says, and pauses to take a bite of his toast, chews and swallows, "But they have therapy for people who can't sleep. Stuff like that."

Tweek curls in on himself further, pressing the tip of his nose between his knees, trying to hide himself away completely, "Yeah…"

Craig watches him idly as he finishes his toast, then shrugs. He pours himself a glass of orange juice and chugs it in a motion that is not so much graceful as completely lacking any need for coordination. Craig's body doesn't think, it just moves, slipping from one point in time and space to the next. He drops the glass in the sink with that same unconscious fluidity, then makes his way back to the couch.

Car commercials play on screen, a reminder of the upcoming holiday season that goes completely ignored. They don't have the money for a car, hence Craig's need to get up so early. He has to catch a bus to the train station to get to that lecture on- gastrointestinal issues in small rodents? Something like that. Tweek doesn't really get it, but it's the kind of thing Craig is supposed to be learning, veterinary stuff, and he seems pretty into it.

"Maybe not therapy." Craig says, looking mildly concerned. He's taking in the full sight of Tweek's appearance, exactly the way Tweek doesn't want him to.

He hides his face from Craig, sighing, but looks up sharply as the jingle signaling the return of the news broadcast plays.

"You know what always knocks you out?" Craig asks, a rhetorical question that Tweek struggles to answer, even as he tries to pay attention to the banter of the newscasters, waiting for them to switch cameras to the man in front of the weather greenscreen.

"Gnk- um- a blow to the head?"

Craig stares at him hard, like he doesn't know if he's joking or not, before shaking his head and taking the spot on the couch beside him, kneeling one leg on the cushion, "I was thinking sex."

Tweek can't respond to that, can only stutter and blush for a moment before Craig is nuzzling against him, luring him out of hiding and catching him in a kiss.

"Y-you wanna- um- n-now?" Tweek murmurs the question against Craig's lips, slowly unfolding, uncurling, carefully gripping the front of Craig's shirt.

"I just wanna get you to sleep," Craig says, which doesn't really answer Tweek's question. Besides, the weatherman is on screen and Tweek wants to hear what he has to say.

"Nn- Craig, the weather-"

Craig has somehow worked around him, made him lean back against the arm of the couch without realizing, and is already sliding his hands down, down, "Watch it for me."

Tweek twitches and gasps, protests dying in his throat as Craig tugs at the waistband of his pajama pants and the weatherman starts rattling off temperatures.

"U-um…high of f-forty five degrees," Tweek reads off the relevant information on screen, "And the h-humidity is, gnk, eh…"

"I don't care about the humidity." Craig's hand between his legs his making it harder to concentrate already. And how he's supposed to follow anything on screen when Craig's tongue is introduced to the mix, he has no idea.

"A-ah- chance of- chance of rain, around, ngh, t-two-" Tweek has to close his eyes for a moment, digging his fingers into the couch cushions as a whimper, a whine, escapes him, "Craig…"
For a few seconds the heat of Craig's mouth is absent, though the motion of his breath as he speaks is enough to keep Tweek squirming, "Rain?"

Tweek nods, then sneaks a peek down at Craig, realizing that he couldn't have seen him nod while he's so otherwise occupied, "Mm-mhmm."
Craig 'hmms' in thought, making Tweek gasp and arch.

The news has gone back to stories about car accidents and robberies and things that really freak Tweek out, so he's glad to give his full attention to Craig. He watches him tease for a while, playing with that tricky little tongue stud he's had for years, and feels the heat in his face intensify. Craig locks eyes with him for a moment, one eyebrow arched as if to ask exactly what he's waiting for, and presses his hands against Tweek's thighs just a little harder, spreading his legs that much further.

Tweek clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound he makes as he comes.

His body is already exhausted from lack of sleep, and now he can hardly move. He vaguely registers the feeling of Craig redressing him, putting a blanket over him. There's an even vaguer sense of guilt at his inability to reciprocate, but Tweek can't put together a sentence to express his regret.

With the last bit of coherency left in him, he manages, " 'member your um….brella."

Craig doesn't answer him, staying quiet as he can as he goes about the rest of his routine, getting ready and heading out to catch the bus. He does, in fact, remember his umbrella, and locks the door behind him, leaving Tweek to sleep.

…

Hours pass. The drizzle of rain outside becomes a steady fall. Thunder rolls through the air, a warning of just how bad the weather could (but probably won't) become.

Tweek sleeps on.

An hour past the time Craig is due to be home, rain is still bucketing down, assaulting the windows of their home with slushy, oversized drops. The temperature has dropped lower than the weatherman said it ought to, and the precipitation seems confused, caught between the intended rain and the icy state it used to be in.

The sound of the door handle turning startles Tweek out of sleep.

Craig's lips are an unhealthy shade of blue when he hip-checks the door open and trudges into the room, leaking rainwater from his coat, his hair. His hat is shoved deep in a pocket, probably for protection from the weather, but the way the fabric sags around it makes Tweek think that it's just as soaked as the rest of him.

He looks to Tweek on the couch, straight faced as ever, nudges the door shut, and drops a mangled umbrella to puddle on the floor, bent metal and polyester and drenching wetness.

"So it rained." He says flatly, and although Tweek knows there is no accusation intended, he still flinches. The fear that would have gripped him for the hours Craig was gone, the belated worry over where he was and whether or not he was safe and why he wasn't answering his phone comes rushing up to meet him, crippling him with guilt. He shouldn't have slept this whole time, should have been up and about to check on the weather and the bus schedules and call Craig twelve times just in case.

There are a million things Tweek could have done, should have done, but before he can let his own heartbeat overwhelm him, collapse back to the uselessly panicked state that's so familiar to him, Tweek gets control of himself.

Craig needs his help.

He shoves aside the blanket Craig had draped over him hours earlier and climbs off the couch, scurrying across the room to tend to his drowned rat of a boyfriend.

Craig gives his hands a gentle push as he unzips his coat, grumbling something about how Tweek is going to get wet, that he doesn't need any help. But Tweek can play the distraction game just as well as Craig, and he rattles off questions as he works at wet clothes.

"Jesus Christ- what happened? Did you walk all the way from the- the train station? Gnk- Jesus-"

The leather and metal of Craig's coat are slick enough to escape Tweek's twitching fingers but he keeps at them, tensing himself to stay stable, finally catching the zipper pull. Underneath the coat Craig is shivering, his shirt wet in patches, and if Tweek wasn't in such a hurry he'd marvel at this moment of reversal, Craig's body quivering as his own stands firm in determination.

"They shut down the buses," Craig explains, sounding more bored than angry, his teeth chattering slightly. He shrugs his coat off and lets it sink into the mess of umbrella on the floor. Despite his earlier protest he lifts his arms obediently over his head so Tweek can pull his shirt off.

"So you walked a- ngh- a freakin' mile and a half in the r-rain?"

Craig shrugs, and Tweek huffs a little frustrated noise at his nonchalance, crouching slightly so he can undo the button on Craig's jeans. "Shoes-" he says, and Craig toes them off. They make a sick squelching noise as he does, one that makes Tweek shudder, and he shakes his head in disapproval as he strips heavy, wet denim off Craig's legs. "Y-you should have called a cab or something, or-"

"For a mile and a half? It's not that far." Craig glances down at him and the water in his hair drips down to hit Tweek square in the nose. He shifts to wrap his arms around himself, looking, for the first time, uncomfortable, "You really have to do this right here?"

Tweek twitches at the wetness and wipes it away with the back of his hand, "H-hypothermia is serious, Craig-"

"I don't have hypothermia."

"You don't know that! You might! You have to get out of your wet clothes and warmed up and I'm just trying to speed up the process, okay?" He misses Craig's tired smirk as he finishes undressing him, dropping his boxers on top of the pile of wet cloth beside them. He pulls the blanket off the couch and wraps Craig in it, hugging him close, offering his body heat.

"I'm not gonna die, Tweek." Craig explains gently, though the way he slumps so willingly into Tweek's embrace is somewhat disconcerting, "I'm just tired and cold."

Tweek's fingers press against the side of Craig's neck, checking his pulse, just in case, and after a moment he releases him, content with the fact that he isn't about to keel over.

"C-come on, you should probably take a hot shower."

Craig nods lazily and allows Tweek to usher him down the hall to the bathroom, waits patiently while Tweek plays with the knobs in the shower. In a moment the showerhead is spewing hot water, filling the small room with steam. Tweek tempers the near-boiling stream with a turn of the cold knob and snatches Craig's blanket away. He smiles triumphantly to see Craig climb in and tug the shower curtain shut, scowling, possibly embarrassed at being assisted in all this.

While Craig works the feeling back into his fingers and toes, Tweek cleans up, throwing out the broken umbrella and tossing all of Craig's wet things in a laundry basket to be dried later. Everything in his backpack, his thankfully waterproof backpack, is safe. But Craig's wallet is just as saturated with rain as everything else, and must be emptied of its contents. Dollar bills and credit cards get spread out over the kitchen counter to dry out while Tweek carefully fishes Craig's hat out of his coat pocket and tries to figure out the best place to put it. Craig would never trust his hat to a washer or dryer, so it has to be separated from the rest of the laundry. Tweek finally settles for emptying the drying rack of silverware and draping it over the metal bars to drip-dry.

He hears the pipes groan as the shower stops and scurries to be prepared, though now that Craig is out of harm's way he isn't sure what to do. Get him clothes? Make him something to eat? A cup of coffee probably wouldn't hurt, and that's something he certainly knows how to make. But if Craig doesn't want any of those things, Tweek would just be getting in his way. Maybe he just wants to go to bed and Tweek should leave him alone. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Hey Tweek-" Craig calls to him from down the hall, making Tweek jump in surprise like it's the first time he's heard the name. He turns to see Craig bent over, drying his hair, a towel around his waist. Before he can warn Craig about how he should really be bundled up and not standing out in the open air, Craig speaks again, "I'm just gonna get in bed." He flips his hair back out of his face, still damp but no longer dripping, and quirks an eyebrow, letting the question that accompanies his statement go unasked.

Did Tweek want to come?

"O-okay."

Craig nods and heads into their bedroom, dropping the towel from his hair on the dresser along the way.

Tweek double checks everything, the door, the window, the stove, the hat on the drying rack, before following after Craig. He notes that Craig's other towel has been discarded as well, that Craig is most likely naked under the thick comforter he's pulled up nearly over his nose.

Sometimes Craig looks startling soft, more innocent than he has any right to be, and this is one of those moments. The color is just coming back into his face, giving him a slight flush that makes Tweek want to laugh. Craig really doesn't do the blushing thing, so this is a novelty.

Following Craig's example, Tweek strips off his own clothes and climbs under the blankets, cuddling up close to Craig and shivering at the contact. Craig's skin is warmer now, but still damp. Tweek's hands meet the slightest resistance as they slip over his chest, finding the right places to hold on.

"B-body heat." He explains, an answer to Craig's teasing, questioning glance. Right. Body heat. They had to share theirs. Or something.

"So um…h-how was the lecture?"

Craig shrugs his shoulders, the movement shifting Tweek's position against his chest slightly, "Pretty interesting."

Tweek looks up, waiting for further explanation, but instead receives a rare smile.

"Thanks, by the way."

Tweek, who absolutely does the blushing thing, goes pink all over, "F-for wha-"

Craig rolls his eyes and cuts him off by hugging him closer, "You know what for."

He kisses the top of Tweek's head before settling back against his pillow, saying, "So you slept all day?"

Tweek nods, still not sure how to feel about that. He knows he needed the sleep, probably still needs more of it, but he hates thinking that Craig was all alone in the world struggling at something while he was passed out on their couch.

"Good. I'm glad."

Tweek doesn't voice his opinion on the matter, instead nuzzling against Craig's chest, bumping his cheekbone against Craig's clavicle just so.

"Think you'll be able to sleep tonight?" Craig asks, his thinly veiled concern making Tweek smile.

"Maybe…" Tweek answers in a small voice. Then, after a moment's hesitation, consideration, obsessing over whether or not it's the right thing to do, he lifts his head to look at Craig questioningly. He smiles slightly, his expression something close to devious that quite honestly makes him look bonkers, but that he knows Craig finds strangely sexy, "I-it couldn't hurt to use a- a sleep aid."

Craig meets his gaze, does that smooth little thing where he looks Tweek over from head to toe, even though at this angle he can't see much, "Couldn't hurt."

Tweek climbs up and over him, never moving out from under their blanket, coming to rest on top of Craig and shuddering gently at the increased warmth, "Maybe… I can h-help you sleep too."

Craig betrays nothing, "Maybe…"

Tweek kisses him softly, a thank you that Craig is quick to return, and rolls his hips against Craig's, making himself gasp, making Craig smile at the possibilities.

They'll both sleep well tonight.