Chapter Text
Tweek really hated his parent’s coffee shop sometimes. It took up all his free time and had an influence on nearly every aspect of his life. Tweek’s dad always brought up some bullshit spiel on how the coffee is locally sourced and how Tweek was an essential part of the family business, yada yada. His inability to speak up about it for fear of the punishments that would follow left him in his current shitty situation.
He zipped around the coffee shop, hands shaking and mind running a mile a minute. His parents had introduced the new seasonal flavors for the winter season to promote business, and the people of South Park were, apparently, fucking insane for peppermint lattes and cinnamon mochas. Conveniently, his parents were nowhere to be found and left the shop to Tweek, even though it was a school night and he had mountains of homework to get through.
“Welcome to - gah - Tweek Bros. Coffee!” He yelled out as he heard the front door chime once again. The line was filling the little coffee shop and Tweek could physically feel the stress claw at his bones. How the hell was he supposed to manage all this by himself?! He could hear the discontent of the customers through the dull chatter that rang through the shop.
“G-Give me just one second!” Tweek called out. He tried to steady his shaking hands as he poured yet another peppermint latte into a paper cup. He hastily slapped a plastic lid onto the drink and slid it onto the pick-up counter, barely remembering to call out the name that was scribbled on the side.
He whirled around again and started counting the pumps of syrup flavoring into another cup. God, this was way too much pressure! He anxiously gnawed on his bottom lip as he ran through the familiar motions and placed another cup of coffee at the pick-up counter. He wiped his sweaty hands on his stained apron and ran back to the register.
“I’m so sorry for the - ack - wait! What can I get started for you?” Tweek asked. He looked up to see the four resident goth kids that were always smoking out in the back of the school.
“Just four black coffees,” One of them said, flipping his red and black hair out his eyes.
Tweek nodded and felt a small bloom of relief at the easy order. He punched it in and replied with the total.
The taller one with the curly hair handed him a card and said, “Are you the only one working?”
Tweek nodded, handing him the card and receipt back. “Sign that, please. I don’t know where my parents are, so the shop’s left to - mmph - me tonight.”
“That’s fucked up,” scoffed the girl. Tweek didn’t say anything and turned around to pour the coffee. He placed the mugs on the counter and went to grab the receipt. He smiled briefly at the large tip they had left him before moving on to the next customer.
The rush continued for another hour and Tweek could feel his energy and patience running low with each new customer he greeted. He did his best to keep a smile on his face as he served coffee, his father would kill him if someone made a complaint about him. His hands were severely shaking as he tried to pour drinks, and he could feel his nervous tics getting worse and worse.
The door chimed again. God, Tweek fucking hated that sound. He turned around and was met with the sight of his boyfriend and his signature blue chullo.
“Craig!” He beamed. “Sorry, you’re gonna have - gah - to wait a second for your usual!” He gestured to the backlog of orders displayed on the counter.
Craig waved it off and leaned on the pick-up counter. “Where’s your dad?”
“Who fucking knows,” Tweek muttered spitefully. He slid another order onto the counter and looked at Craig. “He introduces a new menu and then fucks off!” He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.
Craig’s lips pressed into a stern line. He didn’t exactly keep it a secret about how much he disliked Tweek’s family, but he bit his tongue.
“Hey, can I get some help over here?” Snapped an annoyed voice from the register. Tweek squeaked and ran over, leaving Craig at the counter. He watched carefully as Tweek started to take the man’s order. Craig could see all the tell-tale signs that the blonde was about two seconds from blowing up in the man’s face. After a brief moment of consideration, he hopped the counter and grabbed one of the embroidered aprons that hung on the wall.
“Craig?! What - gah - are you doing?!” Tweek squeaked as Craig gently pushed Tweek off the register.
“I’ll take the orders, you make the coffee.” He said bluntly.
“N-No offense, babe, but your customer service is… not the best.” Tweek replied, balling up his apron in his fists.
Craig didn’t answer and turned back to the register, essentially barring Tweek from the front. He felt conflict rising in him. His dad told him nobody was allowed behind the counter except for staff, but then again, he felt like he was gonna drown in all the backlogged orders. What if his dad found out and grounded him again? Or kicked him out the house?! Where would he sleep at night?! Oh God, he can’t take all this pressure!
Tweek paused and took a deep breath, loosening his grip on his apron and trying to slow his racing mind. He turned his attention back to the counter and began to fix the orders that flowed from the register.
After what felt like hours, the rush was finally over. With Craig’s help, the two ran through the customers quickly, much faster than Tweek could’ve achieved on his own. Tweek had never felt so much relief wash over him as he flipped their sign on the front door to ‘closed.’ He wiped his hands on his apron and set to work clearing all the tables.
“Jesus, do you ever stop moving?” Craig asked, leaning against the display case of pastries.
“I can’t!” Tweek exclaimed, waving his hands wildly in the air. “I have so much to do tonight! I have that paper to write, and all the math problems Garrison assigned, and-”
“Babe, slow down.” Craig said, walking over to him and clasping his hands in his own. Tweek grunted and looked up at his boyfriend.
“I’ll clean, so you get started on your work.” He said, rubbing his thumb gently over Tweek’s slender hands.
“I can’t - gah - let you do that!” Tweek shouted. “It’s my responsibility,”
Craig shook his head. “What your parents do to you is fucking unfair, honey. I got it tonight, okay?” Tweek chewed on his lip as he considered the offer. He let go of Craig’s hands to grab his backpack that was hastily thrown into the corner earlier that afternoon and found a relatively clean booth to sit in. He felt incredibly guilty that he was making his boyfriend - who wasn’t even getting paid - clean the whole shop, but this history essay was due tomorrow and he hadn’t even started it.
Tweek pored over his laptop, occasionally looking over to watch Craig wipe down a table or organize the flavor syrups Tweek mixed all up in his rush. He smiled softly at how concentrated his boyfriend was, making sure everything was impossibly clean. Tweek turned back to his laptop with a newfound determination and made a mental note to thank Craig later.