Chapter Text
Craig's chest tightened.
Shock, anger, disbelief, tangled together.
He hadn't expected to see him here.
Not now, not like this.
And yet, there he was.
The same impossible presence that lingered in the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried to shake it. The same face he'd sworn to ignore, yet couldn't, not when the memory of an arrow splitting his chest still burned beneath his ribs.
His grip on the dagger tightened, a faint tremor through his fingers. The battlefield noise dulled, his focus narrowing to the figure in front of him.
And then Tweek stumbled forward, bow clutched, eyes wide and frantic.
"Craig! Are you okay?!" His voice cracked, panic spilling out every word as he stumbled to a stop right in front of him, scanning him up and down for any injuries.
Craig didn't flinch. He didn't lower his dagger. His eyes were sharp, guarded, locking onto Tweek with quiet hostility.
"You tore a fucking arrow through my chest, Tweek," he said coldly. "What the hell do you think?"
Tweek froze, his stomach twisting. "I-I didn't mean-"
"Didn't mean?" Craig's voice cut sharp. "You took the shot. You hit me. And you nearly put me six feet under."
The silence between them was suffocating, the only sounds the distant clash of battle, and the weight of Craig's edge hanging between them.
Tweek swallowed hard, eyes darting nervously, fingers tightening around his bow. Words failed him, he didn't know how to respond or reach out, caught between fear and guilt.
Craig's gaze flicked to the trembling hands, and for a fraction of a second, something twisted inside him.
Not anger, not a grudge, just... unease at seeing Tweek like this.
He had to remind himself, this was war.
Tweek acted as anyone would in his place.
Fuck, he had such a soft spot for him.
Slowly, Craig's shoulders eased just a fraction.
"Relax," he said, steadier now. "I'm not blaming you.
Tweek let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding, tension easing just slightly. Relief washed over him, though guilt still churned in his stomach.
His eyes darted to Craig's chest, to the torn fabric where the arrow had struck.
"You... you're really okay?" he asked, voice tight. "It... it doesn't look like it, but... you're not bleeding or anything?"
"Jesus, Tweek. I'm fine," Craig let the words hang, studying him.
"You know... for someone so confident with their shot at me, you're really freaking out." A faint, familiar smirk tugged at his lips.
"I-I'm just concerned!" Tweek stammered, cheeks warming. He inched closer, fingers trembling as they brushed near the scar, careful not to press too firmly.
Craig's shoulders tensed under the touch, but he didn't pull away.
He couldn't remember the last time Tweek had been this close, this unguarded.
The heat of Tweek's fingers lingered, tracing the scar beneath the torn shirt.
"Your wound...it's closed." Tweek's mind raced. This wasn't possible. The elves had no magic capable of healing this instantly, their recovery always took days.
The only explanation he could think was-
"Tolkien healed me," Craig said, reading the disbelief flashing across Tweek's face.
Tweek's eyes widened. "Tolkien...? He actually...?"
He blinked, still staring at Craig's healed chest. He couldn't believe it.
Tolkien, their ally, had healed his... enemy? Ex boyfriend? Friend?
...Lover..?
Tweek didn't know anymore.
His hand rested over the scar, reluctant to move.
"You always were too careful," Craig teased, low with the faintest edge of humor. "Didn't think you'd actually land a hit on me."
"Careful?" Tweek whispered, a shaky laugh escaping despite the guilt. "I-I almost-"
Craig cut him off, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile. "Yeah, and yet here you are, still fumbling around like you give a damn."
Tweek's hands froze mid motion.
The teasing edge in Craig's tone, so familiar, so impossibly him, made something inside him ache.
He lowered his hands, hesitating, before tracing just above the wound on Craig's chest, as if needing to reassure himself that Craig was still alive, real, and solid beneath his fingertips.
Craig's chest stiffened at the sudden intimate touch. His eyes shifted with something unspoken, surprise, a trace of softness he refused to show. He didn't push him away, but his pulse spiked, each shallow breath a sharp reminder how close Tweek was...and...how much he missed this.
God, saying he'd missed it was an understatement. He seriously fucking needed it, craved it, even if that arrow had nearly killed him in more ways than one.
Instinctively, Craig lifted a hand, fingers brushing lightly along Tweek's jaw, tracing the line of his face as if memorizing it again. Every freckle, every faint scar, every trace of the boy he loved still there.
Tweek flinched, just slightly, but didn't pull away.
The moment stretched. Hands lingered too long. A brush of breaths. A flash of the closeness they once shared. All of it carrying the weight of everything unsaid, and for Tweek, the aching familiarity of how it used to be, back when they were still together.
Finally, Tweek's voice broke through, his hands clutching at Craig's tunic, trembling as
he pressed closer.
"Why... why would you do any of this? Betray the kingdom, go behind everyone's back? Our relationship... why would you do this to us?"
Craig froze.
The warmth faded, replaced by the cold weight of his need to keep Tweek safe, no matter how much it destroyed him.
His emotions broke through.
"You think I wanted this?!" His voice cracked, sharp and ragged. "You think I wanted to betray the kingdom, watch our people die, carry every goddamn choice on my own, to stand here and risk losing everything I care about, including you?!"
The words hung in the air, jagged and sharp.
Tweek's heart lurched, pulse racing. He opened his mouth, but nothing came. His hands twitched, uncertain, before pulling away.
Craig stepped back a fraction, distant, unreadable. His chest heaved with controlled breaths, shoulders easing just enough to show Tweek he hadn't shut him out completely.
Tweek's hands fell to his sides, unsteady. He searched Craig's face for answers, desperate to make sense of the unspoken truth lingering between them, but found only silence and unresolved tension.
Gathering himself, Craig straightened, eyes scanning the clearing. "I can't stay. The others... they need me more than you think. The Stick... it can't fall into Cartman's hands." His voice was firm, decisive.
Tweek's chest tightened. "Craig- wait-"
But Craig was already moving, each step urgent.
Tweek stood frozen, staring at the trail of dust and leaves he left behind.
Cartman's demands still tugged at him, but Craig's words, the warning The Stick couldn't fall into his hands, made tweek question everything he'd fought for.
He swallowed hard. Nothing felt certain anymore.