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when craig can’t sleep, he counts tweek’s freckles.
he thinks the highest he’s ever gotten before he lost count was 112. it’s more than a little impossible to count all of the freckles, because tweek’s covered in them. most lay across his cheeks, nose, and shoulders, but he’s got them on just about every part of his body. what makes it even harder to properly count each of the spots is tweek's incessant twitching. it used to be much worse when they were children, but it never did quite die down all the way. not that craig's really complaining - he always found it weirdly endearing.
even if it does get in the way of his counting.
most of the time, craig doesn't get the pleasure of counting them while tweek is asleep. it makes it much easier when he is, the twitching and jerking dying down when hes unconscious. instead, tweek tends to be wide awake, too, arms tight around craig's waist and eyes shut as he tries to focus on the calm in their bedroom. he'll rub low on craig’s back in small circles, the way that makes craig feel warm and relaxed and positively sleepy. and tweek, the affectionate bastard he is, will sing softly to lull craig into sleep, completely ignoring craig's quiet protests of i want to see how high i can get this time. the universe decides to grant craig some luck on occasion, though, because some nights tweek will be out like a light, allowing craig to count until he can't keep his eyes open either.
(craig's always especially grateful for those nights. he always did prefer to stay awake until he's sure tweek is getting at least a moment of shut eye.)
when the counting can’t seem to do the trick, craig will trace patterns between the dots along his partner’s body. the patterns are usually mindless, simply meant to just lull himself to sleep with the added bonus of calming tweek down enough to get him to sleep, as well. though occasionally, when his mind isn’t quite fuzzy along the edges with tiredness yet, craig will trace the patterns of different constellations between the stars on tweek’s skin. he’ll whisper the name of each pattern into the blonde mess of curls by his face, mostly to himself, but he knows tweek enjoys hearing the names of the patterns drawn onto his skin for himself. eventually his mouth and fingers will become heavy and clumsy with sleep, and he’ll find himself falling asleep in the middle of a pattern.
(tweek always longs for those nights, tries to stay awake long enough for the counting to turn into tracing. he revels under the quiet affection, loves feeling as beautiful as the stars.)
craig doesn’t usually struggle with sleep, though, almost always falling asleep the moment his head hits his pillow, so he doesn’t generally have an excuse to count the freckles he loves dearly. he supposes he doesn’t quite need an excuse, though. he’s encouraged to count them, he’s noticed, as tweek will lean into him as he does, practically purring under all of the attention. and, well, who is craig to deny himself the simple pleasure of watching his boyfriend feeling so outwardly satisfied? plus, he finds the whole experience much more enjoyable when he’s alert, likes being able to observe every detail of tweek without having the fuzziness of exhaustion clouding his mind. he likes it more when tweek is more alert, too, likes the way his partner’s awake mind makes him blush and squirm and lean into craig’s hand as they trace painstakingly along each spot.
it’s the little things in life, craig thinks, that matter. it’s the little things that make life living, that make his heart swell too large for his chest. and, well, he’s certain that the most important little thing is those moments of counting that he shares with his love.