Work Text:
"I love you" was always a phrase Craig found difficult to say out loud, and so he rarely ever did. When his parents would send him out the door with the phrase, he'd simply pause on his way out. When they hang up the phone with "I love you," he mutters a quiet "you, too." Because as much as he loves his parents, for some reason, the words just don't come easily.
It's not something he and his sister have ever said to each other, not that he can remember anyway. With Tricia, it's always been teasing, taunting, middle fingers and pulling hair. It's always been wrestling in the living room while their mother screamed at them to knock it off, and stealing each other's stuff. Things are a little different now; no more physical fighting, and less stealing, that's been replaced by more moments of them getting along (i.e. existing comfortably in the same place). The teasing and taunting and middle fingers still remain, though. Craig is certain if he tells Tricia he loves her, she'd assume he was dying. Which, to be fair, he'd assume the same of her should she ever tell him that.
He knows he loves his friends, though they're not the type to tell each other that sort of thing. It feels too sentimental, too sappy. Clyde and Jimmy would make fun of him relentlessly. Tolkien would be nicer about it, but he'd still snicker and poke fun too. It's just not something Craig wants to put up with, so he keeps his affection to himself.
Craig's thoughts are interrupted by a soft exhale, and he looks down at the person sleeping on his chest. A small smile cracks his typical stony expression, and he twirls a lock of their hair around his finger.
Ask him half a year ago if he'd ever be caught dead cuddling with Stan Marsh, and he'd have punched you in the jaw after laughing in your face. Craig hated Stan. He thought them arrogant, self-centered, and bitchy. He hated how they talked as if the world revolved around them. He hated their stupid friends, their stupid hat they wore well into high school, their stupid lopsided grin, and those stupid, gorgeous doe eyes.
He hated how he found them pretty and handsome at the same time, he hated how they made his heart race uncomfortably in his chest, he hated that fighting with them excited him in ways he never thought possible. He hated that he'd go out of his way to antagonize them, just to rile them up, because they're cute when they're mad.
He hated that he caught feelings for them, and was determined to never act on those feelings. He expressed vehement distaste for Stan at every opportunity, and Stan did the same. Craig swore things would never change between them.
That all came crashing down when, in one of their typical after school fights behind the tennis courts, Stan yanked him down by his collar and kissed him, hard. Craig had been so shocked he hadn't reacted. When Stan started to pull away though, he pulled them back in, crashing their lips together in a passionate frenzy. Stan had sighed into his mouth, and Craig decided then to stop fooling himself into thinking he wasn't madly in love with them.
Now, six months later, things are calm between them. They still say "I hate you," more than any terms of affection or endearment, but that in and of itself has become their display of affection, in an odd way. Stan's still a bitch, and Craig still gets pissed at them, but he loves them more than he knows what to do with.
As their breath puffs softly against his skin, Craig wonders what it might be like to say the words. It's a quiet night, and he's warm, comfortable with Stan tucked against him. Nothing bad can happen if he says it. They won't even hear. It's just... a test. Getting comfortable saying it, before he has to for real. He can do this. He mouths the words a few times, getting used to the shape of them. Finally, he decides to just go for it.
"I love you."
The night is still, quiet like it had been before he spoke. He expected that, and some of the tension releases from his shoulders when he realizes the world didn't stop spinning just because he said three little words.
Then, he feels a gentle kiss pressed against the skin of his chest, and Stan nuzzles further into him. He can't see their face, but he can almost feel their cheeky grin. His breath feels caught in his throat; he hadn't expected them to be awake.
For a moment, he expects them to pull away and sit up, or maybe even speak themself, but they don't. Instead, their breath evens out, and they fall asleep for real this time. Again, Craig smiles, and resumes playing with their hair.
As intimidating as it had been to say, he's glad he did. Because it feels so much easier, so freeing, the second time.
"I love you."