FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK. Craig is frozen to his spot on the couch in the wake of Kenny’s abrupt exit thinking: why the hell did I do that? What on earth possessed me to fuck up that royally? He doesn’t understand why moments ago those words seemed like they had no impact when the fact of the matter was that was easily the fastest way he could have made Kenny hate him for good. Kenny was still a living breathing person that felt things just as strongly as anyone else, maybe even stronger than anyone else, so why had he let the words so carelessly tumble past his lips and seep into the fragile moment that had been building up between them?
He truly was an idiot. This one night could have been the first time that this thing between them had finally gone somewhere and met an actual end— these routine instances where they exchange vague flirtations are fun and all, but what was the point if they weren’t going to ever really hook up. The once warm room now feels drafty and barren, and even with all of the activity continuing to bustle around him, Craig’s mouth parts to form a miserable little ‘o’ in shock at the drastic difference. Why had he done that. His brain sifts through various justifications, trying to find a reason that makes him look less like a dick but they all fall short before the thought can even fully develop. There wasn’t much he could say to defend himself. Oh, he didn’t mean it that way? He did. He could distinctly remember moments in time where he’d catch the scent of Kyle, Stan, Butters, or even the stench of Eric on Kenny. Even from across a room, Craig’s nose was attuned to everything that was McCormick. Did that mean he was always— jealous?
Was that fucking it? He was so goddamn jealous of the fact that they all had something he didn’t? The ability to get close enough to touch. To mark each other from head to toe in their own scents. Something in his chest clicked with the revelation, and honestly, Craig felt more than a little dumb to realize that lusting after someone for so long also allowed such passionate emotions as jealousy to arise. It made so much more sense now. These were legitimate feelings that ran deep, deep enough to obviously turn him into a righteous dumbass. With his head a little clearer and regret having steeped in his body for too long, Craig wastes no more time and rises from the couch to promptly step in the direction Kenny went.
It isn’t hard to guess where the blond went either; the cool night air mingling with the faint hint of cigarette smoke was enough of an indication as to where Craig needed to be. And shit, he felt worse with each step forward. Had he not unlocked the floodgates of his mind into the real depths of his— feelings, ugh— for Kenny, Craig would have sat stationary all night in a numb, stupefied manner. But the revelation has spurred action in him, a reason to want to beg for forgiveness, maybe even a hope that if things didn’t work out, at least Kenny could start throwing punches. ( As if a fight wouldn’t turn him on in some way, shit. )
“McCormick” he starts once he reaches the porch, eyes now earnestly seeking all traces of emotion on Kenny’s face, “I mean— Kenny. I’m so fucking sorry. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever said. The dumbest thing I ever will say.” Begging wasn’t something a guy like Craig ever had to do in his life. His pride clouded over in most cases and the deep arrogance ingrained in him liked to make him feel above trivial matters such as groveling. This was just too important. It felt like if he didn’t reach out now, the steady build up of this thing between them that spanned literal years was going to crumble and vanish forever, and he couldn’t go down without trying.
“I’m,” his jaw clenches, a reflex developed to bite back emotion from bleeding into his voice, “so sorry. I didn’t have to go that far. I know how fucked it is. I was just—” JEALOUS! “ — not thinking. I don’t think straight when I’m around you.”
by the time craig has stumbled out of the front door, kenny is all but done with his second cigarette. the final embers of it are dying between middle and index finger as the spiked feeling of shock settles over kenny. his head turns to the door as it opens and spills artificial light onto the porch, the last thing he expects being craig. standing there with something ALMOST remorseful, regretful, filtering through his eyes. with the last spiral of smoke fighting its way through the surprised gape of kenny’s ajar lips, kenny blinks at craig until the remnants of the fluttering feeling in his gut have fully unclenched. craig’s words, every single one of them, traverse the foggy haze of confusion and -- - disgusting, gentle hope, budding like spring flowers under kenny’s prickling skin.
it’s possible, fathomable, that craig has never had to apologize for something a day in his life. an alpha’s word is LAW, not up for debate or challenge, so this feels... paramount. kenny’s back presses to the porch railing, leaning against it to maintain an air of composure, in a valiant effort at schooling the emotions threatening to pour out of him. craig is apologizing, followed him out here for the express purpose OF apologizing, and he looks... genuine. with his jaw working to fight the reality of what he feels, and the hint of desperation underlying nasally words. there is something, so MUCH, to be said of what’s happening here. the cigarette falls to the stone floor, the heel of an old, beaten up black converse grinding it to dust.
“Y’can’t think straight because you’re gay, Craig.” a joke, to signify that kenny is willing to move past everything. all of the implicated BULLSHIT craig had dunked his head under with a single question, a single statement. the fact that craig is in much the same shape that kenny has been in since the first time he ever smelled the musk of ALPHA,ALPHA,ALPHA on craig... god. it makes him shiver, easily blamed on the brisk night. this is it, isn’t it? the chance kenny’s been waiting for, CRAVING for YEARS. now, or never, and kenny isn’t willing to squander such a clandestine opportunity.
craig cares about him enough to say SORRY -- - that means something. it just might mean EVERYTHING.
kenny’s two front teeth, with the stupid gap in between, dig into the swell of his lower lip. the expression on his face softens in vulnerability, and his shoulders slump forward. this is such a huge thing, a real goddamn risk for him to be laying bare such legitimate, sincere insecurities, but craig’s not a stranger. craig isn’t some alpha trying to get in his pants because he looks good, or because he smells to their liking -- - it’s CRAIG. someone who he’s known since childhood. someone who matters. in its own way, that makes this so much more terrifying, doesn’t it? “You know I’m not a slut, right? I don’t always... go all the way with the people I sleep with. Fuck, dude, the only person I’ve really had full blown sex with was Leo, and we didn’t -- - he didn’t... you know. Ever. Because I always kinda...”
he pauses. breathes in deep. so deep. it’s too much to look at craig’s face now, with the honesty burning his tongue. kenny stares out across the valmer’s lawn, snow covering the dead grass, and he sighs. no one knows this. knows that the TRUTH is -- - “It’s stupid, man, but all those fuckin’ classes we took in school about heats and ruts and KNOTTING all made it into this huge thing. Especially the omega specific courses. They told us that it was so important to be careful who you tied yourself to, because there’s a level of real intimacy there, and as much as I cared, and still care, about Leo, I never felt that connection with him. He’s my best friend, but,” head tilts back, eyes close. the breath puffs out of kenny, deflating his chest, body shifting uncomfortably as he braces himself for the horrible reaction he’s expecting out of craig.
