"Camp?"
"No, a retreat. It's for the whole team. You don't really have a choice, your father already paid and signed."
Stan groaned extra loudly at that. Of course his dad had signed him up. Of course Randy had thrown money away, just to make sure his son would continue to be the star he could be proud of, without ever truly contributing any valuable parenting.
The coach mustered him for a moment longer, assessing his star quarterback in the making.
"You would have gone, one way or the other, Marsh. Now get out of here. Little league's meeting here today."
Stan nodded distantly, gathering up his bag and helmet and kicking his locker shut. This was just about the worst news he could get, one week before the summer vacation began. It would be the last of its kind, and Stan had intended to spend it with Kyle and Kenny (and Cartman, by extension), for old times' sake. Hopefully with less government and alien involvement. Maybe some camping, definitely no ziplining. But all of those plans had just crumbled, because college football was a thing and the scouts would be all over the county next season, so coach Mason had decided that a four-week retreat was in order for the entire team. The South Park Cows were just about the only successful team in their entire city, and it was embarrassing how many adults cared about each football game (and attended it, rowdily). So yes. Of course Stan had to go.
Mournfully, he texted Kyle as soon as he got into his car, a beat up old Golf that he was irrationally proud to own.
Guess who has to go to football camp next week :(
The answer came almost instantly.
… you're fckn kidding?? How long?
It was clear from the two questions that Kyle wasn't amused at all about these news. Not that he hated Stan playing football or anything, no, he was happy his best friend was cheered for and famed, but if there was one thing he really disliked about the whole football business it was that it took so much of Stan's time.
Vacation usually was football-free time, and this was their very last summer!
4 weeks :((
Stan could practically hear Kyle's angry typing from across town. Of course he was pissed. They'd been planning their last summer for ages now, and Stan had sort of envisioned that he might actually confess to Kyle before they both started their senior year, but now every plan they had was in ruins. Thanks to his stupid dad and stupid football.
Sucks major ass, dude.
Kyle's answer, even though it did not contain any emoticons, conveyed enough of his disappointment if only because he was using correct punctuation. Four weeks were long, very long, especially if it was Stan that wasn't there. Kenny and especially Cartman could be gone, Kyle wouldn't have minded as much, but of course it had to be his super best friend. He was angry, sure, and the day was fucked up as was summer, but Kyle knew Stan probably felt worse already and guilty on top.
It's just half the time though. We got four weeks after.
He added a poop smiley for good measure and waited. Stan didn't deserve his rage, Kyle was certain he'd been signed up by his dad who thought damn football was the best thing ever for his perfect boy.
Yeah. plenty of time to plan how we lose fatass in the mountains while camping. CoD tonight?
Stan hoped he'd at least manage to make Kyle smile. He hated the way his best friend sucked in all his rage and stuffed it down. He was pretty sure Kyle was ninety percent pure, festering anger at this point. The other ten percent were all brain, because somehow, even with all of his extracurriculars, Kyle was topping every class. It was the only kind of topping he was doing, yes, but his lack of interest in sex and dating was a topic Stan didn't bring up anymore. Not after the fight they'd had two years ago that nearly saw him turn his back entirely on his best friend and the boy he was pining after hopelessly.
Stan shoved all thoughts of it aside. He had four weeks away from Kyle, during which he could figure out what to do with the ballooning feeling in his stomach, each and every time they stood too close together or hugged for a little too long.
Yea. I'll come over around six.
t least they still had the weekend to hang out. And, well, then they had four weeks in which meticulous planning could be done so they'd have the most fun in the smallest amount of time possible.
Kyle was a master at efficient optimization.
A week later...
The bus was already filling up with teenagers while outside, parents and siblings and girlfriends were waving or saying goodbye, sending off their respective beloved one into four weeks of horror camp somewhere Craig hadn't even bothered to look up. His mom had put his swimming trunks on his bed though alongside with sun blocker, so that was some sort of hint or whatever, so he had packed some t-shirts, sunglasses and shorts together with the obvious hoodies because Colorado boys always were prepared for the cold.
Clyde had insisted on the window seat and Craig didn't really give a fuck. He'd peeked out of the window earlier only to see Trisha flip him off and grin at him because she'd be able to hog the Xbox for four weeks straight playing her stupid barbie games.
He put in his earbuds and pulled the hood over his head, ignoring the world around him whilst listening to something far too upbeat from the 80's. After his breakup with Tweek he'd banned anything remotely Metal from his playlists, but right about now, some guy screaming about death and murder seemed to be just right to fit his mood. Unfortunately, all he had was Laura Branigan definitely not serenading death or murder. And on top of that, he had four weeks of doing nothing he enjoyed.
His summer was fucking ruined.
Three hours later Craig had enough of Clyde drooling on his shoulder, so he shook him off and got up, deciding that, well, he might as well sit somewhere else.
Token was sitting with Matt, Jake and Kevin were being gaywads about some movie they were watching together. As Craig moved backwards in the bus, he set his mind on just grabbing a seat somewhere alone, but it seemed like most seats were already blocked. Craig felt the urge to beat up Ian for falling asleep on the aisle seat, he could have sat there, but then he did find a free seat after all.
Next to Marsh, who looked like someone had thrown up in his cereal this morning. So, normal, more or less. Craig made up his mind.
He ignored the glare coming his way and spread his whole mass into the seat. Maybe he could rile him up a little, that would at least brighten Craig's day.
Stan had been content to sit on his own. He even, pointedly, had spread out so that his legs were in the space of the seat beside him. But of course, Craig fucking Tucker didn't care about shit like personal space or definite glares of 'go away or I will punch you in the dick'. The guy bombed into the seat next to him and Stan plucked one headphone out of his ear, nose wrinkled.
"Dude, no. Sit somewhere else."
He still hated Craig. They'd been playing on a team together for years, but there was just something about the guy that riled Stan up endlessly. And no, it wasn't just the stupid list that the girls continued to vote over, every week. Number one hot guy, or whatever. Craig wasn't even that good-looking. He just had that Chris Evans dorito-body shape, that was all. It didn't make up for asshole personality whatsoever.
Craig casually flipped him off, right in his pretty little face, then continued to ignore him, but spread his legs further to firmly mark the space that was his now.
It did please him however to know that Marsh was boiling inside, that he didn't want this and yet didn't do anything about it. They had a bit of leg shoving and pressing against each other going on, but Craig wasn't going to budge. This was his seat now, won and claimed. Star quarterback or not, Stan still received from him.
He leaned back and gave Stan his usual, bored glare. Somehow, he wanted Marsh to be pissy. At least some fun on this boring-ass trip.
Craig was obnoxious. Stan plugged his headphone back in after losing the silent struggle of their legs shoving against each other. He huffed a sigh and looked out of the window. Fine. He was going to be the adult here and not turn this entire trip into a petty war. Even if Craig was definitely the worst guy on the team. Stan still vividly felt the marks from when Craig had thought it was a fun idea to whip him with a wet towel. The guy was just a damn sadist, no matter how good a center he was. If Stan could vote anyone off of the team...
Ignoring him worked for about an hour. Then, Craig's elbow digging into his side was too much. Stan snarled a wordless little warning, shimmying around in his seat. Then the snarl gained verbal reinforcement.
"What is your damage, Craig? It's bad enough I'm stuck going on this stupid-ass trip, you don't have to be a dick on top of it!"
Craig didn't change his bored expression, he only quirked his left eyebrow slightly as he regarded Stan and removed one earpiece.
"Come again?"
His voice however had changed from its usual disinterested monotone sound to some vaguely provocative tone. He was eager for a little fight, even if it was just verbal. Seeing Marsh squeezed against the window, looking pissed off and defensive did something to Craig, something warm and pleasant and rewarding. Bullying people was generally that, but Marsh had just the right amount of fire and muscle to back it up to really get him going.
Craig was pretty sure if he'd fight with Marsh again like they'd done after he'd slapped him with the wet towel, he was going to have a great time jerking it. It wasn't really about being gay or anything, Craig wasn't gay, he just got off on dominating people, that was it. The stronger the person, the hotter it got, there was nothing else about it.
"I said you're being a dick, dick." Stan rolled his eyes for effect. He knew he was being prickly as a cactus (or Kyle) right now, but Craig had it coming. He was sitting here to piss Stan off, no other reason. The guy didn't have any redeeming qualities. The only time he hadn't been awful was when the world thought he was gay. And to be honest, gay Craig had been as obnoxious as straight Craig. His sexuality really didn't do anything in regards to that personality. At least his voice had deepened, but it was still terribly nasal. As if Stan needed any further proof that Craig Tucker was awful.
"Sit somewhere else. Isn't Clyde gonna cry if you abandon him? Your tight-end buddy?"
Craig snorted, he actually liked that one. Clyde was a fucking tight-end alright and everyone knew it. Instead of getting up and sitting somewhere else like Marsh so helpfully suggested, Craig reached out to drape an arm tightly around Stan's shoulder, pulling him in roughly, more into a chokehold than into an actual hug.
"Coach said you and I were supposed to get along better. Now say cheese and be happy, Marsh, this is the best trip of your life, remember?"
Craig pulled him in such a position that Mason could see them from where he had gotten up to look around if everyone was behaving. When he'd sat down again, Craig tightened his hold, just to mess with Marsh a little more before he ruffled his hair wildly and finally let him go.
"You and I are gonna have a great time. I'm not gonna leave your side. You can say thanks to the coach later."
"Fuck you. Seriously, man. I will put my foot up your ass if you make this stupid trip worse than it already is."
Of course Craig wanted to make this a hellish experience. He had all of his friends with him. Clyde and Token were on the team, Jimmy somehow weedled himself between the coach and players as both Hype man and team morale upkeep manager. Stan? Well...Stan was vaguely friends with most of the team, but not enough to consider them close. Definitely not close enough to hang around. Sometimes, he cursed the fact that Kyle could only get it up for basketball and Kenny was more interested in fucking anything with a pulse than sports. He'd even take Cartman's wide ass over being alone. He knew the team, of course, and he had that whole, casual sports buds thing going on, but they weren't his friends. Without them, Stan felt kind of naked. It was okay during practice and games. He got to go home afterwards.
But here? He was stuck with no way out.
Meanwhile, Craig opened a bag of doritos and plucked a jar of nacho cheese out of his backpack. Not that he was gonna share it at all, even though he knew Marsh fucking loved that stuff, especially the cheese.
Alright, there might be one chance for him to get some and that was if he asked really fucking nicely. It was common knowledge that the coach didn't like them eating garbage as he called it, but Craig couldn't care less. Mason also told him frequently to stop smoking, but he had flipped the guy off countless of times and still proceeded to amaze both audience and commentators as well as unsuspecting enemies with brute force and respectable stamina.
Coach could kiss his ass for all Craig cared.
"Careful, Marsh, you might break a toe if you try that." He answered the earlier threat nonchalantly.
If the bus had an emergency hammer by the window on Stan's side, he might have been tempted to take it and bash his way to freedom. This trip was already shaping up to be hell, and they'd only been on the road for three of the sixteen hours it would take to get there. Plus, the smell of cheese and doritos was wafting over and reminding Stan than he'd eaten only a banana for breakfast and damn, he didn't exactly pack a lunch. All he had were sports drinks and chewing gum for the trip. Some people had to actually carefully tailor their diet to their physique and were not named Craig 'I can eat whatever I want'Tucker.
"...you gonna eat that right in front of me, huh?"
"Yeah." Craig answered, a hint of smugness in his voice. He chewed some more of the crispy treats and watched Marsh pout about it and glare out of the window. T here wasn't much to spend thoughts on there, however, other than Marsh and how Craig could keep him on edge. Currently, he seemed to try hard to ignore him, but that wasn't how this was going to work. Craig was the playmaker in this game.
The bag of doritos found its way right under Stan's nose whilst Craig kept a lookout for Mason. When Marsh didn't move, Craig sent him a glare as if Stan was the dumbest idiot he'd ever met.
"He's not looking. Go on."
Stan's hand moved before his mind did and dove deeply into the bag, grabbing not one or two chips, but an entire handful. Why Craig was being nice all of a sudden, he didn't know, and he'd be sure to analyze the crap out of it after the situation was over. But for now, he stuffed doritos into his mouth, enjoying their very unhealthy appeal with the zeal of any averagely sized horse. Kyle always said that Stan ate like one (or, more fittingly, a cow) since he started on the team and Stan was inclined to agree. The cheese, however, was still out of reach. Stan risked it, dipping a dorito into the depths of Craig's lap (where the jar was balanced on a knee) and drowning the corn chip in its processed goodness.
Craig eyed him stuffing his face with the chips as if he hadn't eaten anything in three months. His eyebrows, both of them, wandered up and his attention was entirely drawn away from Mason when Stan went for the cheese, practically drenching his dorito in it. As if he tried to scoop up as much as was possible to fit on one chip.
"Didn't you have breakfast?"
To be entirely fair, Craig hadn't really been interested in breakfast, but his mom had made sure to pack him a selection of sandwiches and snacks, so he wasn't in any danger of starvation for, well, the next three days at least.
"You eat like a fucking horse, Marsh."
Craig felt generous, especially since there was something about the face Marsh pulled. He placed the bag between them and readied the flip-tray from Stan's front seat to put the cheese on it. Kind of like a peace offering, really. He had to keep it just the right amount of bothering and smothering to gain the most fun out of it.
"You sound like Kyle. Except a dick." Stan was amenable to the peace offering, though he probably shouldn't trust it at all. Craig was being weirdly nice, and he suspected it was only a method to fuck with Stan later.
Whatever. Doritos.
"I figured we'd stop for food along the way. Didn't realize coach was so cheap he wouldn't even spring for that."
Which meant that Stan would have nothing but drinks and these cheesy chips for at least eight hours.
Craig shrugged, he had sandwiches. Now that the good deed was done, he fished his Switch out of his backpack and busied himself with that, alongside with his headphones plugged in. Marsh was boring for now, he'd busy himself with him later again.