A/N: Chapter two. And to an observant reviewer, YES! My screen name is the same as the number one drug from this story. This fic can be taken as a why-not-do-it guide later on. Thanks to everyone for the feed back and I'm glad you're into it already. I'm also glad this whole no-dialogue thing is going over well with most people because I'm now unsure how to write it any other way LOL.

Anyway. As always, enjoy~

Tweek is comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. He holds his head from the pound of the music, feeling overwhelmed and ill. Clyde sits beside him in much of the same state, but he's smiling; Tweek relays to Clyde about the noise, how loud it is, and suggests migration. Clyde agrees, and they head outside together.

Walking down the front stairs is an experience all of its own. Tweek is sure he will fall, because this walk down the stairs is taking so long, but as he manages the last step he turns to look at the veranda and muses that there was only three steps in total. Three is a number Tweek can appreciate, and he gets lost in thought before he feels the creeping of touches to his arms. His head turns after a slow moment and Clyde is replaced now by Kyle, who is looking concerned.

Tweek is alright. He wraps his arms around Kyle and hangs off of the redhead with a lackadaisical smile. Before he knows it, they are on the ground due to Kyle's sobriety being as in tact as his own. Kyle offers him a bump of K. Tweek takes it gratefully off of the landing between his thumb and index finger, blinking up at the stars as his high is further amplified by the refreshment of chemicals.

It's late and the mountain air is clear. The taste of drips lingers in the back of his mouth but he's too high to really process their presence. He lays with Kyle in the grass, mostly because he can't move. He is comfortable.

Kyle starts to talk - he tells Tweek a story. Tweek listens with his eyes lazy and his ears alert. He finds it easier to focus now that there is no bass muffling his senses. Kyle's stories are good; they are real stories, ones Tweek can appreciate, because he knows they have happened, and that there is no question to whether these things happened or not. There are no 'what ifs' and there are no 'maybes'. Kyle tells it as it is, and Tweek loves honesty in people, as it saves him from any mental strain.

There is a flash of orange and blond, and Kenny has joined them. Tweek isn't worried - he listens to the secure murmuring of Kyle and Kenny's voices beside him. He doesn't speak for fear of losing track of their conversation, which is slowly getting intimate as Tweek's high rises to a whole other degree.

Tweek imagines he could be dreaming by this point; he lets his fingers flicker through the grass somewhere at his side as his mind wanders, not sure where they are headed because he can't see his hands and can't be damned to look. A bug crawls over the curve of his ribs on top of his shirt and he watches it's journey with calm patience that he can't possess on a regular day. It spreads its wings; it flies into the night, and he forgets about it entirely within the next few moments as his head floats elsewhere again.

He thinks back to a week prior. He thinks about Craig, he thinks about Clyde, and Token, too - his best friends. His mind is at ransom for his memories as he lays in his bed in his head, aware that before he goes to sleep he goes through the process of counting the fake stars that glow in the dark on his ceiling. His roof is missing because today he's counting real stars, and this is much more therapeutic than counting his fake stars, because he knows that there are exactly 37 even though he counts them every night anyway.

There is a brush to the grass near Tweek's ear and a noise commonly heard during intrinsic or otherwise private activity. He lets his eyes slide to a half-close, listening to the sound of smacking lips and briefly wishing he could move, if only to find Craig. He lifts his arms, a pointless activity as they drop back to his sides with leaden weight before he rolls to his side opposite of what he realizes is Kyle and Kenny making all kinds of love in the grass, likely having forgotten about him as entirely as Tweek had forgotten about them. Slowly Tweek collects himself enough to make a steady crawl toward the house that the party is taking place in.

He hears someone say something about carpet-crawling. A moment later he realizes it is directed to him, and he looks up, glad to see Craig looming over him on the top step, even if he isn't making any sense. Tweek is not anywhere near a carpet except for the one behind Craig inside of the Tucker family home. Craig helps Tweek up off of the ground, and Tweek is relieved, even if his legs feel like strings of licorice and his arms are hanging around his boyfriend's shoulder's sloppily.

Craig covers Tweek's eyes and Tweek doesn't mind. It occurs to him that Craig is probably trying to shield his eyes from the carnal act taking place on his front lawn, but Tweek has already seen. He opens his mouth to say so, but is intercepted by Craig's instead. Sinking against the other boy even more, Tweek kisses him back slowly and comfortably. Hands snake around his body and Tweek blinks slowly, feeling Craig's lips peel away from his own in what feels like an eternity.

Craig's palm lifts away from Tweek's eyes and Tweek looks up at him with a complacent expression that seems to make Craig smile. Tweek is pleased by this and they touch and hug more on the front porch. With Craig's palms exploring each line and limb of his body, Tweek's eyes trapeze back to Kyle and Kenny over Craig's shoulder.

They are a mix of limbs, and kisses, and affectionate whispers. Temporarily Tweek listens, forgetting about Craig despite his immediate presence in order to hear their hushed utterances, all drunk with what seems to be much more love than alcohol. He watches them not out of any perversion, but mostly because the entire scene is romantic and beautiful and Tweek wonders if that's what it looks like for everyone. He doesn't think it does, but he likes to imagine - he likes to imagine him and Craig look like that, too. Sober, such an idea as to watch two people doing something so personal would never cross Tweek's mind in a million years, but in this moment, it feels alright.

The world moves against Tweek's will, because he is now half draped over Craig's shoulder as, together, they head inside. Tweek doesn't make an effort to get down or a struggle; the bass of the music is toned down a bit to a more satisfactory volume. Tweek wonders if maybe this was Craig's doing. It is likely, but moreso doubtful.

Craig asks how he got outside, and Tweek returns that it was because of the noise. Craig asks how again, and Tweek replies in an undertone, about how he was going out there with Clyde. Then Kyle appeared, and sooner than later, his boyfriend, Kenny. Tweek asks Craig if he saw them, and Craig gives him a look that suggests some kind of criticism. He tells Tweek that Kenny and Kyle are a hard sight to miss at the moment as Craig is gentle in pressing Tweek back against the cozy plush of his mattress.

Tweek entertains the rest of his high with Craig in bed, wondering occasionally if it would be better or worse sober out of sheer curiosity, and wondering even more if they are having a beautiful moment right now instead of focusing on the tasks at hand. Craig whispers to him that he loves him, and Tweek confirms that it doesn't matter - that it's better no matter what mindset, and that this is probably as beautiful as things can get.