Work Text:
Oh Sift, A Typo!
For the Sealed With A Kiss: A Creek Zine 2023
Art by Dragnia
Tweek twisted his phone, and his trembling fingers carefully adjusted the settings for the perfect lighting on the white box with a black silk ribbon tied around it. His eyes slid toward the clock. It was 9:20, fifteen minutes when the class should have initially started. He was nervous, not wanting to risk having his phone confiscated. But he had to. He took the picture and sent it to his boyfriend.
Craig: Mmmm, another one?
Tweek: It’s one I’m experiencing
Tweek’s eye twitched as he deleted the text.
Tweek: experian-
His fingers tensed. Why is it that the smarter computers are, the dumber autocorrect gets? Tweek took a breath and slowed his thumbs, eyes darting back and forth at the endless string of suggestions. “Experiential… no… exponential…no…lamenting? Gah! That’s not even close!” He muttered as he scrolled through suggestions. GAH! He gasped in relief when he finally found the word he needed. Now he wished he didn’t take Spelling in first grade for granite.
Tweek: Experimenting with.
Craig: Can’t wait. Lunch is my favorite period.
Tweek: Because of my boxes?
Craig: Because of you. ;)
Tweek turned his head to his boyfriend, who gave him a private smile only meant for him. For a moment he felt like he was hovering above the clouds. Since he started his bakery side gig, nothing was better than letting Craig be his guinea pig.
Almost in unison, every student’s head darted toward the door as it flung open. To their surprise, it wasn’t their teacher, but Mr. Mackey shuffling into class, tilting his large inflated noggin to avoid getting it caught again.
Tweek shoved his phone back in his pocket as fast as he could, not wanting to risk it being constipated by his teacher.
“M’kay, class. Since Mr. Garrison and the other teachers are on strike and there isn’t enough childcare to go around in town, you’ll all have to stay here.” Mr. Mackey rolled his eyes as the class let out a collective groan. “Yes, Kyle?”
“Sir, what exactly are the teachers asking for?”
“Mmm, something dumb about the drinking water containing too many chemicals from the bottom row of the Periodic Table of Elements.”
“Sir, that sounds kind of dangerous,” Craig concurred.
“Nah, they’re just pussies. I have attended this same school for decades, and look how I and all of your families turned out?” Mr. Mackey shifted his eyes as every kid’s jaw dropped. Oh Lorde, they make it sound like having a massive noggin was bad. “Anyways, you’re here to gain skills you never would develop otherwise, m’kay? Today you are to uh… do Typing.com and uh type until lunch- STOP TEXTING BEBE!! YOU TOO, CLYDE!” His cheeks burned red as the calm class erupted into laughter.
Mr. Mackey turned, “Look, you can OMGWTFBBQ or whatever hashtags or other chit lingo you kids use, but learning how to type is very important, m’kay! One wrong typo in a letter can be the difference between life and death! Now get back to work, mmmmmmmmmmmm’kay!” he yelled.
Sensing they’d reached Mr. Mackey’s limit, the class reluctantly pulled out their school-issued Chromebooks and got to work.
Tweek stared at his percentage: 142 WPM with 41% accuracy. The only reason his speed was so high was because he still hadn’t passed the first few lessons. At least the computer doesn’t try to fix his spelling every time he gets it wrong like his overzealous texting app does.
LUNCH TIME
Craig slowly pulled the yellow ribbon from the white box. The girls’ table was unusually quiet. He wasn’t sure if it was because they, like the rest of the town, were still in awe of his relationship or Tweek’s newest flavor, but he couldn’t care less what they thought. Instead, he fixated on his boyfriend’s cute, nervous expression as his beautiful eyes yearned for him to hurry up and open it. No problem with that since nothing would pair better with the school’s fish sticks other than a side of porn.
He released the knot that bound it, allowing all four sides of the box to collapse to reveal a heavenly chocolate cupcake with thick white and brown swirled icing. He grasped the side expecting paper, only to discover that after pinching it, he lightly cracked the crushed honey graham cracker. His eyes shifted as Tweek sat on the other side with knotted hands and a nervous smiling expression.
He stretched his jaw and took a bite as layers of flavor combined into pure euphoria. “This is soooooooooo good.” His mind was divided on whether to shove the rest in or take smaller bites to savor it longer.
Tweek twitched in delight. If there was nothing more slavery than his cupcakes, it was the loving comments of his boyfriend. “The icing is a mixture of a chocolate whip and marshmallow. I toasted it a bit. Nggh, there are bits of dark and white chocolate pieces in the cake. Instead of a wrapper, I rolled the crumbs in butter, sugar, and a bit of melted marshmallow.”
“It’s amazing,” Craig’s eyes rolled back as he licked a bit of icing from his thumb.
“Craig, what should I name it?”
Craig shut his eyes as he stretched the limits of his imagination. “Since you used marshmallow, chocolate, and graham crackers and heated it up, how about: Chocolate, Marshmallow, and Graham Cracker Cupcake?” Craig grinned as if he had won a Pulitzer for creativity.
Tweek chuckled. Craig was sometimes a bit too logical, yet he still found it charming. He turned his head. “Oh, Craig, you have a bit of marshmallow on the side of your lip.” He leaned forward, his lips a few inches away from his boyfriend’s soft cheek. “Could I…” he swallowed hard as he built up the courage to say it. “...help you clean that off, Craig?”
Craig felt his head grow dizzy from those sweet cracks in Tweek’s tender voice when he said his name. He loved him so much that he couldn’t think of allowing him to do something so messy. “Oh, don’t worry honey, I always keep a packet of tissues in my pocket.”
Tweek leaned back, frowning as Craig pulled a napkin and wiped his own face. How many messy cupcakes does he have to serve his boyfriend before he gets the hint that he wants to kiss him? Tweek sighed. Sometimes he underestimates how tall the wall of Craig’s autism is.
“Wowzers, that looks so yummy!!” gushed Butters from another table.
“You say that every day Craig gets one,” spoke Stan.
“Well, it’s true!”
“Mmmm mm mmmm,” laughed Kenny.
Clyde nodded in agreement. “Yeah, no kidding, Kenny. Tweek’s cupcakes always look so good I may also turn gay just to have him bake some for me!”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Hey man, all you have to do is get them at his Dad’s coffee shop. My parents ordered some Hazelnut chocolate cupcakes and half a dozen peach cobbler ones. I think we ate them all before the party, and my Dad had to run and grab more before his client came in. But yeah, if Tweek wasn’t so paranoid of the media, he could easily win one of those cooking shows with them.”
Cartman turned his head as everyone in the cafeteria seemed transfixed; his eyes shifted to his phone’s calendar with a countdown of when everyone would celebrate his birthday.
METH BROS COFFEE SHOP
Richard Tweak clutched the phone as he nodded his head while listening to the phone. “Mmm hmm. Oh… you didn’t meet your quota of waterboarding for today?” Richard leaned forward and twirled a lock of his auburn curly hair. “Oh, Kim, don’t cry. Trust me, I know … crushing your rivals is as fun as watching the hummingbirds hovering in a golden meadow of wildflowers. Why I’ve silenced a few myself. But Kim, it also produces a lot of questionable publicity! Mmm hmmm, Of course, but let me ask to ensure Tweek can complete that order in time ! ” Mr. Tweak placed the phone down and set the paper order aside. “Hey, son, Kim Jong Un is having another bad day, and he wants three dozen of his usual for next week.”
Tweek sighed as he stopped playing the off-tune melody of the piano in the corner of the store. Part of why he began his side gig was that his piano needed a good tune-up and repair, and he wanted to make the money on his own. What he didn’t expect was that his simple advertising tweet would trend on every maniacal leader’s Twitter account. He wasn’t sure if he was more disturbed by the fact that they liked his cupcakes or that they all seemed to get along with his Dad. “Three dozen taro flavored with a light vanilla whip and Hello Kitty sprinkles?”
“You got it, slave!”
Tweek shut his eyes. It would be challenging, but he knew there was a clear pattern: the more time Kim Jong Un was busy eating his cupcakes, the fewer human rights he violated. “Alright, I’ll have it air-mailed by Friday.”
*DING DING*
The door swung open as Liane Cartman held it open with one hand to allow her son through. “Hey Richard, my sin heard Tweek is making cupcakes?”
“Why yes, he is! Would you like any?” Richard asked as he pulled out a small order sheet.
Cartman’s pudgy hand pushed Liane’s knee, shoving her aside. “I do! With chocolate! Lots of it! Like eight layers! I want chocolate filling and all of them with chocolate icing with icing shaped like Oreos and others with Kit-Kats! He turned his head to a few pictures! “Oh and add those flavors too!”
Richard’s hand scratched the demands as fast as he could. “Are these full size or mini?”
“Full size! DUH!”
“Alright, how many do you want?”
“Thirty!” Sure there were only twenty-two in their class, but that meant he would have eight extra plus two more won’t eat them due to a peanut allergy.
Richard’s eyes lit up at the excessive and profitable customizations. “Alright, the base price is $2.00 per cupcake + $20.00 for layers + $3.00 per variation of filling + $20 for custom frosted tops, plus 10% for taxes, and that would be $123.20.”
“WAIT! You’re actually charging us for the cupcakes!?! I thought we were french!” gasped Cartman.
Tweek hissed, nearly tearing a lock of hair from his head in outrage. “NGGH! WE AREN’T FRENCH!” screamed Tweek until his Dad covered his mouth.
Richard’s eyes shifted to his son, and while he was proud of Tweek’s entrepreneurship, there were still things he must learn. One of the keys to a great businessman is to address the one who holds the biggest purse and not the largest mouth. “Mrs. Cartman, I know these prices are very high, but that is due to the labor required to fulfill such a request. I assure you that even though Tweek’s business has just started, he’s acquired quite a fan base for a reason. How many bakers can admit that two out of three totalitarian dictators would prefer Tweek’s Cupcakes above all else?”
Liana nodded. “Oh yes, I’ve read the glowing five-star review from Xi Jinping on Google for the recent Mooncake Delight cupcakes to celebrate his twentieth Total City Quarantine Lockdown in Shanghai. Unfortunately, I don’t think I can afford it.”
If there was anyone that Tweek felt sorry for, it was Liana. The only worse fate than dealing with Cartman must be living with him. “Mrs. Cartman, the cupcakes at Food 4 Little are good and are only $20 for two dozen and you could just buy the cookies and candy separately and put them on top.”
She rubbed her chin, adoring the simple solution. “Oh wow, that’s actually a good idea-”
“NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!” “I WANT TWEEK CUPCAKES!!” Cartman screamed as hard as the time he found out that Jewish kids get eight times the amount of presents for Hanukkah over kids who celebrate Christmas.
Liana’s face tensed, utterly embarrassed that her ten-year-old son had less composure than a toddler. “ FOR DOG’S SAKE, ERIC! WE LIVE IN A HOT GOD! WE CAN’T AFFORD HUNDRED DOLLAR CUPCAKES!” she screamed back.
“BUT MOM!!!”
Tweek turned back and forth as the two bickered back and forth. Unable to take the pressure anymore, the boy marched in between. “NGGH!!Look, Cartman, if you want my cupcakes, I’ll give you the recipe, and you can make them yourself!”
“BUT I DON’T WANT TO!” whined Eric.
But Liana had enough, utterly embarrassed at her son’s behavior. “Eric, either you make them yourself or nothing at all!”
Eric’s fists tightened. Why must his mother’s newfound sense of self-esteem continue to sabotage his life? “ Fine… text me the recipe. ”
Tweek shook his head, irritated by how large Cartman’s ego was. His fingers tapped out each line as fast as he could before slamming the SEND button. “Ngghh, there! Make sure you follow my directions exactly!” Tweek warned. After all, the hardest thing to protect in a business is one’s reputation.
Cartman’s eyes shifted back and forth as he read the recipe before a devilish smile formed on his lips. “Oh, I will, Tweek… I will .”
The cold glance and the devilish smile sent a chill down Tweek’s spine as Cartman grabbed his mother’s hand and walked out of the store. How bad is it that he trusted maniacal dictators more than Cartman?
TWO DAYS LATER
The children bounced up and down in their bus seats anytime there was the slightest change in elevation. It was nothing new, and some found it fun, but Craig couldn’t help but notice Tweek clenching his hands as if the two were going down a roller coaster instead of the train tracks. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Tweek twitched and shook his head before turning and leaning his head into his boyfriend’s arm as he thought of what happened a couple of gays ago. “It’s Cartman.”
Craig’s eyes narrowed. Only that name should be listed as a synonym for disaster. “What did he do this time?”
“He wanted me to make cupcakes for free for his birthday.”
Craig’s eyes flattened with disgust. “Did you?”
“El-mo!” Tweek cursed. “I gave him the recipe and told him to make his own!”
Craig squeezed him tighter, proud that his boyfriend could stand up for himself even when he was not there. “Good.” But now Craig’s eyes turned downwards. “You know the old saying, never trust Cartman… like ever .”
Tweek lowered his head. “...yet we always do.”
Craig gave a slow nod as he acknowledged his own hypocrisy. “That’s true.”
The bus barrelled past the teacher strike before dropping them and the other children at the front of the school.
Before going through the doors, Tweek turned his head toward the car lanes. Stepping out of his mother’s Chevy was Cartman carrying an enormous plastic container.
“He…did it,” Tweek muttered.
But Craig rolled his eyes. The only thing that Cartman can make is a fart that can clear the room. “No one can make cupcakes like you, honey. He probably forced his mom to do it.”
THREE HOURS LATER
The classroom door swung open as a young blonde-haired woman held it to allow Jimmy to come back inside. “Okay, Tweek, I’m ready to see you!” the special education teacher called out.
Tweek’s left eye twitched as he stared at the container of cupcakes on the desk. “Can it wait? We are going to celebrate Cartman’s birthday.”
But Mr. Mackey wouldn’t hear of it. The fewer students in the class, the quieter, and frankly, he missed the days when Mr. Tweak would constantly call him sick to work at the cafe. “Go to your meeting, and that’s more important, m’kay. You can’t hold a job if you have a verbal tic, m’kay?”
Craig narrowed his eyes. “Sir, you’ve worked here for over thirty years and been doing fine with yours.”
A brief snicker erupted from the class before Mr. Mackey’s cheeks grew red. “Tweek just go …mmm—right!” he snapped while darting a crooked finger toward the door. “We’ll save you a cupcake when you get back.”
Tweek sighed but turned to his boyfriend to give a gentle smile as a thanks for trying before Craig waved back. His heart tingled a bit at the gesture before he followed Mrs. Willow to the hallway, where a small table with two chairs was placed.
“How do you think you did with your tics this week, Tweek?”
Tweek took a deep breath as his training had taught him. “Pretty good. My boyfriend helps me. I know I say that a lot, but he keeps me calm. Keeps my thoughts from tangling up except when I’m….nervous.”
Mrs. Willow was in awe. Those two are just so precious together. “That’s wonderful! You’ve made so much progress.” She turned downwards and gasped. “Oh dear, sorry, Tweek. I left my coffee in the lounge. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Tweek nodded as she turned around and ventured down the long hall. That was when he felt a vibration in his pocket. Pulling out his cracked fifth smartphone this year, Tweek turned to the name. “Cartman?” he answered.
“ Oh, Tweek, didn’t expect you to pick up so quickly. I was just planning on leaving a voice message .”
Tweek’s face tensed as he heard the raspy voice.” DOG HAMLET, CARTMAN! What are you planting!?!”
“What? I just wanted to say I followed your recipe exactly as you sent it to me, Tweek! I leveled the sugar and took care of the flour exactly as you typed it!”
Tweek scrolled down the screen to his recipe. “Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Take 200 grams of flour and sh-...” Tweek’s eyes nearly popped out.
A typo.
A single hugging typo.
Oh SIFT!!!
“I MEANT SIFT! SIFT THE FLOUR NOT SH-” Tweek’s jaw dropped. Did Cartman follow the literal directions? “HOW DID YOU EVEN!?!”
“I just combined the sugar, flour, and all the ingredients in my tummy. Went well with the egg whites. Eight hours later, I had the perfect batter.”
Tweek almost threw up when the phone clicked. He turned his head as he could hear Cartman’s voice on the other side of the wall. At that moment, his eyes began to dilate. “SIFT! SIFT! SIIIIIFFFTTT!!!!”
Autocorrect can learn to spell for all eternity!!!!
Cartman opened the box and pulled out the first cupcake. “Here, Craig, how about you take the first bite?” He smiled as he sat the somewhat lumpy pastry onto a paper plate.”
Craig was a bit surprised… and suspicious. “Dude, it’s your birthday.”
But Cartman knew how to push Craig’s gulli-button. “Aren’t you Tweek’s official taste tester? I want to make sure they are up to his level.”
Craig rolled his eyes and took the bait. “Dude, no one can match Tweek’s baking skills.” His mouth watered at the idea of eating something made with one of Tweek’s recipes. “He’s careful not just how he makes it but the quality of ingredients as well.”
Cartman let out a haughty laugh. “Oh, don’t worry. ¡Tiene mucha caca!”
Craig rolled his eyes. “Tiene mucho cacao ,” he corrected before lifting up the plate and pulling off one side of the wrapper. He pauses and stares further. He’s been in the kitchen when Tweek makes his batches and has somewhat of an idea of what a good texture looks like. “Why does the cake look so dense?”
Cartman rolled his eyes back. “Oh, it’s gluten-free.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” Craig was about to lift the lumpy desert when Tweek snatched it out of his hands.
“CRATE! MOP!!” Tweek slammed the fiber-filled cupcake with the others before throwing on the lid and, with the whirl of a thousand fidget spinners, chucked the terrible Tupperware through the wall.
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
From the outside, Mr. Garrison stuck his head through the hole and peered at his classroom, his hand holding his picket sign while brown icing was smudged all over his lips. “Oh wow, these Nut N Crunch gluten-free cupcakes are fabulous!”
O|=======================================|O
OUTSIDE THE OFFICE
Craig sat on the chair, waiting to hear what would happen to his boyfriend. He and Cartman had been in the Principal's office for so long that he had to flip off Mr. Mackey and the cafeteria lady to ensure he was waiting for him.
The door swung open as Cartman flashed a smiling smug face.
Craig produced a one-finger goodbye, but Cartman just turned away with a merry skip, his fat cheeks swinging back and forth enough to trigger the Richter scale. He turned back to the door, and there was Tweek, sulking, his spiked locks as downtrodden as his face. "Honey?" He whispered as he slowly approached him. "Oh babe, is it that bad?"
"Nggh, the good news is that the school insurance policy covers projectile bakery items, but…."
"But?"
Tweek shut his eyes. "Cartman threatened to show them my text and get me in more trouble. So I had to accept all the blame. In exchange for not pressing charges and avoiding prostitution, I have to…." He let out a sigh. "I have to agree to make Cartman his cupcakes for his birthday tomorrow for free ." Tweek banged his fist against the wall, scraping the skin of his knuckles before a flood of tears followed. "I'm so cupid!!!"
Craig cradled him in his arms before pulling off his cello from his head and placing it on his love to hide his rear-ended face. He squeezed him tightly as his jaw tightened in anger. "That bratwurst! That was probably his plan all along!"
"Yeah… I figured that out while we were in the office," Tweek muttered. "It clucking ducks! Oh, Egg, I don't know what to moo!"
Craig rested his dark locks, allowing them to mix with the blonde. He felt so powerless in this awful situation. "I don't know. If you take a sift in the batter, it makes you look bad. But if you don't, Cartman gets what he wants. I wish I could help."
"You are, Craig… you are," Tweek whispered and sunk his head deeper into Craig's shoulder. He could smell the pleasant mixture of shampoo and Craig's scent from his hat. Tweek smiled as he felt Craig's gentle fingers rubbing and gently scratching his back.
It's funny that back then, Tweek felt like he spent a lifetime seeking ways of dealing with the heavy weight of endless anxiety. For the longest time, the long tendrils of sadness and insecurity clawed deep into every moment and memory of his mind.
By day, it shackled his emotions.
At night, it would haunt his dreams.
He felt like he was a prisoner to his anxiety.
But then, one day, the Asian Girls paired them up.
While their relationship had a chaotic start, with fists and a minefield that was their clashing personalities and undesired publicity, they slowly began to connect.
Before long, it went from keeping a town happy to simply being happy.
Craig made him happy.
Craig accepted him, typos and all.
Once they realized this was not some farce, Tweek finally felt like there was someone in his life that he was making them happy too.
As Tweek's tense body melted into Craig's embrace, he felt his tangled thoughts unwind, his heart racing faster while time seems slower.
At ten years old, Tweek wished but didn't understand how such a simple embrace could feel so powerful.
But what he did know was that beneath his thick layers of anxiety, stress, and hair-tearing tension, was a keen mind that only Craig seemed to bring out within him.
Within that mind was his answer.
Tweek slowly pulled back, gazing into Craig's eyes and softening them with his angelic smile. "I got it! I know what to do! But I'll need your help."
Craig's hands clutch his love's, his grip as strong as any promise he can offer. "Whatever you want, babe."
"Craig… you're going to spend the next eight hours making the batter."
THE NEXT DAY
Cartman turned his head toward the clock and then toward the two empty desks across the classroom. He rolled his eyes. It seemed Tweek and Craig had chickened out and were stripping ass.
Suddenly, the door swung open as Tweek carried a large bakery box. “Sorry, I’m late! NGGH. I had to let the batter cool before applying the frosting. Where should I put them?”
Mr. Mackey could smell them from afar. “How about we eat them now?”
Wendy darted her head. “But Mr. Mackey, you said we were going to do the earthquake drill?”
“Look, Wendy, the last time we had an earthquake was before you were born. Besides, I’ve skipped breakfast, m’kay? Tweek, open it up.”
Tweek nodded and pulled the white box top open, causing the class to gasp in amazement at the rainbow of flavors. “I made four different types. The pink icing is chocolate ganache with raspberry/strawberry filling. The tan ones are Tres Leche with a dash of cinnamon on top. They’re very moist! The ones over here are the ones with the Oreo shape. I scraped the Oreos frosting to incorporate it in the icing before relayering them on top. Finally, the KitKats were made by dipping vanilla wafers in chocolate to make them bigger with a plastic mold to get the logo right. I also added a light cocoa whip in the center.”
“Oh my gosh, they all look so good!” gasped Bebe.
“Yeah, I can’t decide which one to take,” spoke Tolkien.
Cartman slid out of his seat. “Well… as the birthday boy, why don’t I try one of each and let you all know what I think.” He moseyed over toward the box when Tweek held out a hand and stopped him in his place.
“Actually, Cartman, since it is your birthday, I made a very special one,” grinned Tweek as he turned to the door.
At that moment, Craig stepped into the room, carrying a small box covered in a beautiful yellow crap, and set it on the table.
Tweek reached into his pockets and pulled out a set of blue nitrile gloves. He slipped them on and pulled the paper off before opening the top to reveal a giant yet chunky chocolate cupcake. “Ngghh, it took eight hours to make it. Don’t worry… it’s gluten-free.”
Cartman stared at the strangely dense dessert. Unlike the perfect symmetrical arrays the other kids got, this one appeared darker and sloped on one side. Oh Lorde, why was the cupcake different and separated from the other cupcakes? Why was Tweek wearing gloves?
“Wow, what a beautiful duwang!”
“Shut up, Kira!” Cartman snapped at the Jew.
Mr. Mackey folded his arms. “Come on, Crapman, just take a bite so we can all eat, Ben’Gay?”
A bead of sweat dripped over Cartman’s face before his face paled. “Oh sift, I gotta… I gotta go to the nurse! I don’t feel good!” Cartman ran out the door before running to the bathroom and nuked the toilet.
Tweek gave a sly smile as he picked up the box and began to allow the other students to pick out one of his bakery masterpieces, embracing the warm feedback of his friends.
Craig simply leaned back against the front table, listening to Cartman as his fission mailed, all the while demanding to the staff to be taken home. Good! He deserved what he got for putting his babe in such a position. He waited until Tweek returned and turned to the giant chocolate cupcake. “All of my work, and he didn’t want to try it.”
“I guess not. What did he think I did, take a sift in the batter?” giggled Tweek as the praise for his cupcakes continued. While he couldn’t see himself as a full-time baker… especially when his clientele had a laundry list of war crimes, he did enjoy the feeling of doing something creative that made others happy. “Here, Craig. You made it. You take it.”
Craig turned downwards. It was a good idea for Tweek to suggest he make it. Tweek was so good that even if he did a shoddy job, it would look too tempting to Cartman not to eat it. “Nah, it was your recipe. Let’s both share it.” He grabbed a fork and sliced it down the middle, revealing an eight-layered chocolate cupcake with delicate layers of crisp chocolate and a rich ganache sauce in the middle. Even he was impressed with how well it turned out, but only because Tweek had to walk him through the process.
The two picked up their halves and took a bite. Craig grinned madly at the soft cake and the thick liquid chocolate filling. Even though Tweek created better cupcakes, this was the first they’ve done together in a labor of love. He watched his boyfriend nod in delight before his autistic eyes couldn’t help but spot a dribble of chocolate on the edge of Tweek’s lip. “Honey, you have some on the side of your mouth.” He reached into his pocket only to discover he didn’t have his travel tissue packet on him. Not wanting to allow his babe to appear so messy, Craig leaned over and kissed the side of Tweek’s lip, licking it a bit to clean him off.
The class was awed at the sight of the cute couple and how married they were.
Tweek blushed as he kept a hand deep in his pocket, clutching Craig’s tissue packet. It seemed his Dad’s lessons on pick pocketing were helpful after all. “I love you, Twaig.”
“Love you too, Creek.”
