Why did I think of South Park while listening to Non-Stop from Hamilton? And ignoring the obvious fact of Aaron Burr and the y'know... I kinda ship it? In the musical! This is not gonna follow that completely, actually not at all. I just got inspired by it.
Warnings: Cursing.
Ages: 20.
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Craig's POV.

As a lawyer and the co-council of Kyle Broflovski, i have learned to deal with his believe of always being the smartest in the room and his obsessive writing. He can talk about politics for 6 hours and not get bored. There is something rather charming about him, even if can never be satisfied, he can never shut up and just live with what he has... maybe I love him even though my view is different. I would think that's just fine.

Certainly, i stand with what he proposes.... but honestly, as we were just in a war, this is not the right way to go about it! It's not the time to stand yet. Enemies are everywhere. He might get killed and nobody wants that.

There is a knock on my door and I get up to open it.

"Craig Tucker?" He asks.

The small man is looking at me with fierce eyes. He's beautiful yet as soon as he talks, the illusion goes out the window.

"Can we talk, sir?" He asks.

"Is this a legal matter then?" I ask.

He nods, sharp as ever.

"You're a better lawyer than me... my client needs a strong defence and I believe you're the person we need," Kyle says.

"Whose your client?" I ask.

"The... the new US constitution," Kyle says, smiling.

"No way!" I say.

He's been on about this new constitution non-stop!

"Listen! A series of essays, anonymously published, defending the document," Kyle says.

I start closing the door.

"What are you waiting for?" Kyle asks.

He opens the door and takes a step inside.

"What do you stall for?" He asks.

He gets even closer. Oh shit.

"The time of change is now, not tomorrow, not yesterday. We have to change now!" He says.

"Out of my house! I'll keep my plans to myself, I'll wait until I see what happens," I say.

I can feel my heart falling a bit at my own words. I love this man, I should be by his damn side but I'm too much of a coward.

"I'm not throwing away my shot!" Kyle says.

He leaves out of my house.

"Fuck me," I whisper.

I take a pen into my hand and start writing off to Tweek Tweak.

'A lawyer I know is on a mission to write a series of essays to defend the new constitution. Are you going to take a part? He might appreciate you as a part of it!'

I send it off before staring down at a paper, taking the pen into my hand.

'Dear Kyle Broflovski... I will do it. I will help you. However, you have to finish them all in six months for me to be able to do it, apologies. 25 essays at least.'

I sigh and put it on the table.

"What am I doing?" I ask.

No answer. Not even my own head knows what the hell I am doing.

"This man is going to get me fucking killed," I mutter.

I start writing an essay to defend the new constitution.

~Time skip.~

Kyle walks in with a huge amount of papers in his damn hands.

"How many is that?" I ask.

"85, sir," he says.

I take the first five essays, the handwriting the one of Tweek Tweak.

"He got sick mid project," Kyle says.

The next papers are from... Kenneth McCormick and Stanley Marsh? Both some of the least likely to see writing essays.

"Stanley brainstormed and Kenneth wrote them all. That's exactly 29 essays," Kyle says, smiling.

"The last 51?" I ask.

"My work, sir," he says.

"51? You wrote 51 essays within the time of 6 months?" I ask.

"As you may see, yes," he says.

"How much did you go off topic?" I ask.

"Not a lot," he says.

"You're insane," I say.

"Thank you, sir. I rather like the idea of me being insane if it means I'm rather productive," Kyle says.

I keep looking through the essays.

"How do you write like you're running out of time?" I ask, out loud.

"Politics are a personal love of mine. That's what my wife said before dying, every night, 'How do you write day and night?'" He says.

"Your wife has passed?" I ask.

"Yes sir. Ages ago. But that isn't in the moment. I'm married to my work now, sir," he says.

"I have to applaud you. As an orphan like you, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't be able to do this. Where do you get your passion?" I ask.

"My passion? From my interest in the subject, it's important to me," he says.

"But still. How can you be so into it non-stop? How can you just write non-stop?" I ask.

"I take a stand. I recommend it, you would do amazing if you did," he says.

I sigh.

"I don't understand how you stand to the side," he says.

I sigh and take the essay I wrote from my table, showing it to him.

"Do it," he says.

He smiles as I put mine in the pile.

"You know I think it's rather attractive for a man to even try," he says.

I can feel myself stiffen in my chair, keeping a silence.

"I like you, Craig Tucker. I have huge respect for your work and your intelligence. If you took a stance more often, you could be an important man, sir," he says.

He puts his hand on the table.

"So no more stalling, sir," he says.

I nod and get up. He nods back to me.

Do it.

I kiss him. He leans towards me, noticeably.

"I'll try," I say.

He chuckles.

"Goodnight, sir," he says.

He leaves the room. How is this man so beautiful?