South Park, Semi-Urgent Care

Title: Semi-Urgent Care [Craig/Tweek]
Rating/Warnings: PG, non-explicit fighting, homophobia
Summary: A couple hours in the urgent care is totally worth it, in Craig’s opinion.
AN: Written for Shiritori.

Semi-Urgent Care

Settled down to wait, Craig tried to get comfortable in the plasticky chair of the urgent care waiting room, long legs stretched out in front of him. The walls were a yellow that someone probably thought was soothing, and the opposite wall had the exact same framed print of an old-timey country doctor examining a child that his pediatrician’s office had on its wall. Craig wondered if all doctors ordered those wall arts from the same catalogue or something. In the opposite corner of the waiting room, there was a TV mounted on the wall with the news on, the volume on low. Craig tried to focus on figuring out what the news story was rather than on Tweak making his plastic chair squeak with fidgeting or on the sharp, grating pain in his wrist.

“How long, nngh, did they say?” Tweek asked.

“Half an hour, maybe,” Craig replied. He dragged his eyes away from the television, trying to gauge how close to a freakout Tweek was. Tweek was glancing around at the other people in the waiting room, twitching every time someone coughed or sneezed. “Hey. My mom’s on her way, you don’t have to stay. I know you have work later.”

“No way!” Tweek snapped, louder than he meant to. Both of them winced. “N-no. I’m not going. I already texted my dad.”

“Liar,” Craig accused blandly. Tweek glared. “If you called off work your dad would be blowing up your phone.”

“Oh, w-well…” Tweek turned his phone, which he’d been holding face down on his thigh, over. The screen was lit up with notifications, still scrolling as Craig watched. “Jesus. I put it on ‘do not disturb.'”

“That asshole,” Craig snorted. The conversation lapsed, and Craig’s gaze drifted down to his wrist, cradled in his lap. It was starting to hurt more, throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

“Does it hurt?” Tweek asked, hushed.

Craig opened his mouth to lie, but he couldn’t peel his gaze away from the pinched concern on Tweek’s face. “Yeah. It was worth it, though.”

“It wasn’t,” Tweek insisted, scuffing his sneakers on the linoleum. “Gah! This is all my fault.”

“Nah,” Craig insisted. He stretched his arm across the back of Tweek’s chair, brushing fingers against the back of his shoulder in a question; he wasn’t sure Tweek would be okay with an open display of affection after what had happened.

They’d gone the next town over to see a movie South Park’s theater wasn’t carrying, and some North Park teenagers in the parking lot had called them fags when they came out of the theater still holding hands. Craig had lazily flipped them off with their free hand, but then one of them had yelled a couple suggestions to what he’d do with Tweek’s cute face, and that had pretty much been that in Craig’s book. He was sure he’d given that guy a killer black eye; hopefully he’d done something just as colorful to his buddy.

Craig was fairly sure his wrist was broken, or at least cracked, and wasn’t looking forward to weeks of jacking off with his left hand. But it had still been worth it.

“Want me to go ask for some ice?” Tweek asked, chewing his lower lip.

“I’m fine.” Craig curled his arm around Tweek’s shoulder, touch still light in case Tweek wanted to pull away. Tweek leaned into the contact with a soft whine, and Craig slumped against him, mildly relieved. He felt cold now that his adrenaline had worn off, tired and hurt. A touch to his wrist made him look down.

Tweek was curling his fingers gently, carefully around Craig’s wrist. His fingers were still cold from outside, even though they’d been inside the urgent care at least twenty minutes. It actually did feel kind of nice.

“You always say they’re like ice,” Tweek pointed out, offering Craig half a lop-sided smile. “Thanks, you know, for trying to protect me. It’s bullshit that you have to, fuck, but it’s hot too.”

“Glad to hear it, babe.” Craig flexed his fingers, wincing. “Because I’m pretty sure you’ll be making it up to me the whole time my good hand’s out of commission.”

“Craig!” Tweek scolded, eyes darting left and right to see if anyone was paying any attention to them. Then he lifted Craig’s hand, his own fingers still wrapped around his wrist, and pressed a kiss to Craig’s pulse point, his chapped lips fluttering against Craig’s skin a nice distraction. But his eyes were glittering with mischief when he murmured low enough for just Craig’s ears, “Guess it’s only fair I take care of you for once.”

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