Title: No. 63: Band-Aid
Summary: Craig tries to be romantic. It doesn't work out well. Creek fluff.
Disclaimer: I don't own nothin.
Warning: Slash, and blood.

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No. 63: Band-Aid

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I walk into my apartment, coffee in one hand, keys in the other. I drop the keys onto the couch, where they land silently and grin as I see him in the kitchen, cutting up his ham into small squares. It's adorable. He's adorable. I love him.

Still grinning I set the coffee on the table before sneaking up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He jumps, screaming and accidentally slices his finger with the knife.

"I'm sorry!" I tell him, instantly worried, turning him so I can look at his finger. I grab his finger and he's still gasping for air.

We're at a stand-still once again, me holding his bleeding finger and him glaring up at me as if that would make me disappear. I hadn't meant to scare him while he was making dinner. He's just so fucking jumpy sometimes.

"I'm sorry Tweek," I say, and grab a napkin from the counter, dabbing at his finger before pulling out a band-aid. "Forgive me?" As I say this I wrap the band-aid around the cut, knowing I should have been more careful.

He smiled lightly and I know I'm forgiven for now, though the moment is ruined by a rather violent spasm on his part that knocks him into me, which in turn makes me fall against the dinner table.

I hiss and he gives me an apologetic look. "We're even?" His voice holds a bit of fear and a nervous chuckle.

Nodding, I kiss him and then hand him the coffee I'd gone out to get him. "I'll finish making dinner," I tell him and he nods, squealing out something about it being too much pressure before he grips the cup of coffee tightly and takes a long sip.

"Hey Craig, thanks for the-ACK! Coffee," He walks into our small TV room and sits on the couch, twitching and drinking his coffee.

I stare at him, smiling amused because I know the same thing will happen next time he tries to cook something.

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Rawr.

The End.