The Craig Tucker Hate Club

Howdy, lovely readers! I'm really excited to share this story with you :)

I wound up making a companion playlist for this fic - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4bYAwk61aciY4vlO3dFrHK?si=2a9ad5f7d8a54ef6. Listen along whilst you read, or after, or before, or never. I'm not the boss of you. Anyways, enjoy the fic...

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If Kenny's being honest, he had been hoping for something more... low-key this evening. Just a nice dinner, nothing fancy. A few candles, a little wine, that kind of vibe. Maybe they'd even dabble in a romantic pre-made Spotify playlist (he hadn't imagined Craig would make one himself, because he's cautiously hopeful, but not an idiot). That's the sort of thing that he had pictured when he received a text from his boyfriend promising 'a nice surprise' waiting for him at Craig's apartment when he got off work this evening.

"Fuzzy handcuffs?" Kenny holds the pink fluffy abomination at arm's length. "Really, Craig?"

"I thought you would like them!" Craig huffs and pushes his hair back from his face. He has hair like a nineties heartthrob, dark curtains framing his face with dead centre parting. At the start of their relationship, Kenny thought that was cute—and to be fair, he still does—but it gets on his nerves when Craig does this now, like even when they're arguing he's still trying to show off.

"Why would you think I would want this?" Kenny groans.

"I don't know!" Craig throws his hands up. "I just—heard things, you know."

Kenny's lip curls. "Heard things from who?"

"No one in particular. Just... around."

Kenny scoffs and throws the handcuffs down on the bed. It's true that he's used stuff like this before, and he'd probably do it again, but it's more the fact that Craig knows this without ever bothering to ask him that ticks him off.

"Hey, babe! Babe, don't be mad." Craig takes both of Kenny's hands in his own. "I'm sorry, okay?" He kisses each of Kenny's knuckles one by one, then looks up at Kenny through lowered lashes. Craig has eyes like a lost dog, deep brown, tilted slightly downwards. He pulls the same puppy dog trick every time, and like a fool, Kenny falls for it just the same. He hates himself for that. Among other reasons.

"I'm not mad," Kenny says quietly.

"You are," Craig says. "You're mad because I got you the wrong gift."

"No, that's not it!" Kenny says. Isn't it? He jerks his hood up over his head, self-doubt starting to creep in. "I just wish we could have talked about it together, you know? I feel like this should have been a two-party decision."

"What's the point of a surprise if you already knew about it?"

"I don't even like surprises! You know that!"

"Of course I know that!" Craig says. "I just thought it would be nice for our two month anniversary. Sorry for trying, I guess."

Kenny's frustration is momentarily assuaged by his surprise. "You remembered our anniversary?" His face lights up a little.

The corner of Craig's mouth quirks upwards. "Of course I did, babe. How could I forget?" He pushes the hood off of Kenny's head, then traces a thumb down his cheekbone, an area which Kenny's particularly self-conscious about at the moment because he thinks they're too high and too poky, and make his face look sallow. Craig's made some comments recently that suggests his anxieties may not be unfounded.

When Kenny's pulled into a kiss, that's what he's thinking about, his god damn cheekbones. His skin crawls until Craig swipes his tongue over Kenny's lower lip, and then that's what he's thinking about instead. Craig pushes his hands up Kenny's t-shirt and then down his pants, cupping his ass. Kenny pulls back.