Archive of Our Own

Tweek doesn't wake up slowly. Never has. Even at his most relaxed state, days when he manages to sleep in and curl into Craig's warmth, he wakes up like a light switch. Dead asleep to full coherency in a second. The remains of a body that was always ready to fight or fly. 

He blinks his eyes open, rubbing gently to remove the crust. The sound of his husband's snoring fills the room. Tweek looks at Craig fondly, tracing the exposed part of his face with his eyes. He only seems to get louder as they get older. Tweek can’t tell if he’s excited or dreading having to listen to him for the next 40 years. Being with him for the next 40 years doesn’t sound so bad, though, not when Craig seems to get more attractive with time, slowly growing into a man similar to all the hot celebrities Tweek would swoon over as a teen. The snoring is easier to accept when he gets to wrap himself in his arms and stare at his unfairly beautiful sleeping face. Maybe someday that won’t be true anymore, and Craig will snore loud enough to wake him every night, and be wrinkly and grey, but to be honest Tweek doesn’t think even that will change how much he loves him. With a yawn, Tweek goes to check the time, turning to look at the red face of his alarm clock on his bedside table. His eyes widen.

“Craig,” he hisses, sitting up to gently shake the man. “It’s 8:40; you’re going to be late for work,” Craig grumbles and sinks deeper under the covers. “Gah! Craig!” 

“Day off…” he slurs, reaching a hand out of his cocoon. Craig grabs Tweek's arm and pulls him down, lifting the covers to bring him in. With a strong tug, Tweek is wrapped in an embrace and pressed against the man’s chest. 

“Dude, it’s Thursday,” Tweek says, struggling to wiggle himself out of Craig’s arms. He expects Craig's eyes to fly open and his husband to swear as he leaps out of bed. But instead, Craig just hums. “I took the day off. Birthday.” 

There it is. The thing that he’s been uncomfortably aware of, despite his attempt to ignore it.

“Grghhh… Craig…” 

Craig presses a kiss to Tweek's hair. “Go back to sleep, Babe.” Tweek stills, letting his husband drift back to sleep, the sound of snoring filling the room once again. After a few minutes, making sure he’s asleep, Tweek carefully extracts himself from Craig's arms. Going slowly so as to not make a sound, he climbs out of bed and wraps himself in a robe that’s been thrown onto the ground, snagging his phone on the way out. As soon as the door is shut behind him, Tweek lets out another big yawn, stretching his arms until his shoulder pops in a way that instantly worries him. Ugh. Getting older sucks. Tweek swings it around, twisting it back and forth until he’s sure that nothing is actually wrong with it. For now, at least. 

With his phone gripped in his hand, he ambles towards the kitchen. Tweek does not look at the screen. It’s the first thing he’s thought of since Craig mentioned his birthday, and he’ll have to stretch his patience just to hold himself back, but he’s not going to do it until he’s had his coffee. Setting his phone face down, the man goes through the motions of making a pot. Water, filter, grounds. Simple. 

Simpler at least, compared to some of the machines he’s used in the past.

Tweek taps his foot anxiously as he watches the pot, glancing at his phone then back at the coffee maker, then back at the phone. Their clock ticks in the background. By the time the familiar smell of coffee fills the room and the liquid starts sputtering out, he's started chewing on his nails. Tweek pours himself a cup in the stupid mug Craig got him for his birthday when they were, like, 16, (He loves the man but he did not appreciate having to explain to half the town that his beloved boyfriend’s gift to him was a mug that said “it burns when I pee” and not some shit like a bouquet of flowers or a ring) and scurries over to their small table. Cramming himself into his chair, Tweek takes a nervous sip of his coffee and hunches over his phone. He has to do it at some point. He knows they’re awake. He knows they know what day it is. Shakily, Tweek wakes up his phone. With well-practiced fingers, he inputs his code and braces himself for the messages about to appear on his screen. Scrolling through his notifications, he sees a message from Jimmy, another from Clyde, and a couple of Facebook notifications from various old friends. Tricia also has sent him a nice note. 

Nothing from his parents. 

Tweek closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Of course. He doesn’t know why he expected otherwise. 

When Tweek left all those years ago, he made a point to his parents that he would never ever work in the shop again. They protested, said all these things about family and love, but Tweek stood firm. He planned to never speak to his parents again once he left town. He was done. There was nothing they could do to fix what they had. And when he left, he did just what he said he would. Tweek didn’t send a single message. He went radio silent. No calls, no texts, no desperate attempts at snail mail. And it was easy, too easy, because when he left, they never chased after him. They didn't show up and beg for forgiveness or blow his phone up with calls or even speak to his in-laws. Once he was out of the shop, they didn’t care. Tweek had gotten what he wanted. But while Tweek never wanted to talk to his parents again, a part of him still wanted them to try. Prove that behind all of the fucked up things they did, that they still loved him in their own messed up way. 

But they didn't. 

It’s stupid because every holiday he still braces himself for some sort of text message. It was just the type of thing they would do. “Merry Christmas!” their way back into his life. It’s always in the back of his mind, even more so on birthdays because birthdays always seemed to be a commotion in the Tweak household. 

Did they still make a special drink to celebrate and sell at the shop?

Tweek sighs, closing his phone and setting it face down on the table, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of hurt welling deep in his stomach. 

What a start to the day. Happy birthday to him.

The blond tries to enjoy his morning. It’s his birthday after all; he can’t mope all day over people who couldn't care less about him. Not when he sits in his own apartment, far from South Park, and can hear his husband snoring away. From the weather report, it’s supposed to be a nice day. Based on his window, it’s shaping up to be a bright and sunny one. He will enjoy his morning. Tweek is enjoying his morning. 

On a morning like today, he would usually be working on some project. Whatever hobby he’s into at the moment. Today, though, Tweek just closes his eyes and sips at his cooling coffee. He is enjoying his morning. He does not check his phone.

Tweek doesn't know how much time has passed when Craig lumbers up behind him, placing his hand on Tweek’s shoulder.

“Tweek,” He looks up to see Craig scowling at him. “I was supposed to make you breakfast in bed.”

Tweek smiles, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Breakfast?” His eyes dart over to their clock on the wall and back, “ It's almost lunchtime.”

Craig leans down and kisses his husband gently. Tweek can’t help but relax into his touch. “It’s close enough. Happy birthday, Honey.”

With a yawn, Craig turns to start his morning routine. Tweek stands to trail behind him, setting his empty mug down.

“Did you feed Stripe and Racer?” Tweek shakes his head, knowing that Craig would want to take on the chores himself for the day. “Good.” Craig grabs some fresh vegetables from the fridge and heads towards the living room and towards their spoiled guinea pigs’ large enclosure. Tweek wraps himself around his husband as he leans over, filling their bowl with pellets and hay before checking their water levels. Once satisfied, Craig picks Stripe V up and kisses him, then presents him over his shoulder to Tweek. After a quick peck, he's dropped back into the cage, and the process is repeated with Racer II. Craig has only gotten more affectionate with his (their as Craig would correct) guinea pigs over the years, and these two are especially dear to him. They got them when they first moved into this apartment, finally able to have pets again, and then were involved in their wedding. If, being in a corner away from any kids and loud noises but dressed in cute little tuxes counts as being involved.

Tweek starts to follow him back to the kitchen but is instead ushered towards the couch. 

“Craig,” 

“Sit down, Babe. I’m going to cook us something to eat. It's your birthday, just relax.” 

Tweek groans internally but gives him a relenting smile. Tweek hates sitting down and doing nothing, but Craig is always insistent that on his birthday he gets to be spoiled. He’s tried to protest in years past, he honestly doesn’t even like his birthday that much so it doesn’t have to be special, but after having multiple real fights about it, he’s been able to let himself sit back and enjoy whatever Craig has planned, even if it feels like too much sometimes. Thankfully Craig knows him well enough to not take him too far out of his comfort zone. 

Tweek watches the tall man walk into the kitchen before leaning back on the couch. He is enjoying his morning. It’s nice to be with Craig and their sons in their home. He can spend his time doing anything. He can watch TV, or play games, sit with their pigs. The options are endless.

His phone is as heavy as a rock in his pocket. 

Tweek leans back, sinking into their couch. Mentally, he goes over the day's plan. Breakfast with Craig. His knee starts bouncing up and down. Spend the day walking around the local botanical garden he’s been wanting to visit. Tweek's shoulder jerks, a grunt escaping him as he twitches. Dinner with the in-laws. Without even thinking, his hand reached into his pocket and gripped his phone. 

“Gah!”

Tweek quickly lets go and pulls out his hand. He takes a deep breath, then three more for good measure. Maybe a fifth and sixth as well. A seventh would probably help too so he does that as well. And while we’re at seven, we might as well make it eight, right?

That's as far as he gets before his will breaks. With a quick glance to ensure that Craig is still occupied, Tweek grabs his phone. Shakily, barely able to look, he peers down at the screen.

Zero new messages.

He’s not going to count on them. He’s not going to let them ruin his birthday again. He is enjoying his morning. It doesn't matter that they aren’t calling, good even. Tweek throws his phone towards the other end of the couch. It’s face up, but he swears he’s not going to look again. Not for the whole day. Leaning back, forcing his body into a relaxed state, Tweek listens to the sounds of the struggling chef in the kitchen and the fat guinea pigs he shares with said chef.

He will enjoy his birthday.

They had made it to the garden after an easy morning, complete with a pretty okay breakfast, an extremely sappy Craig, and only minimal checking of his messages. Probably. It was mostly minimal.

Tweek’s not going to check again.

The two walk down the path, hand in hand. It's been one of the better arboretums visited in a while. A large sprawling space, with various rooms hosting different climates and garden themes. Every few minutes, Tweek has to stop to smell a flower or look at a placard describing the meticulously cared for plants. 

Craig swings their arms back and forth as they walk along the stony path. 

“Twenty-three, Tweek. How does it feel to be with a younger man, you cougar?”

Tweek flips him off with his free hand. “You say this every year, Craig. When are you gonna stop?” 

“I’ll stop when it stops being funny.”

Tweek scowls at the raven-haired man, a smug look on the asshole’s face. “Well-” Tweek’s eyes go wide as he notices a little girl in a birthday hat staring at them from a few feet away. “Shit- wait no- Gah! Craig!” Craig follows his gaze towards the girl. 

“Dude, she totally saw you flip me off.”

“I know!” 

Craig's gaze locks with hers. 

The girl looked really young. She couldn't be any older than 8. There doesn't seem to be anyone around her, no one that she seemed to belong to anyway. Her eyes were steady as they looked into Craig’s. Tweek's head frantically goes back and forth between the two, unable to decide who to watch. The faceoff seems to last for hours in Tweek's mind. What the fuck do they do? They're just looking at each other! What the fuck are they doing?? Craig is the first to move, breaking the standoff by making a deliberate and strong middle finger towards the girl. 

“Craig?!” Tweek drops his hand from his husband’s to take his shoulder and shake him frantically, trying to get the idiot to stop, but Craig doesn't budge. God, they’re corrupting the impressionable youth. They’re going to get kicked out of the garden. His mind is racing at a mile a minute, dead set on the idea that the girl’s friends are going to appear and jump them for being rude. He could probably fight, like, two kids but a whole group of them?! Oh my god, they’re gonna fucking die. “Craig, stop-” 

Tweek watches in horror as slowly, steadily, the little girl raises her middle finger back at Craig. She glances at his hand, then to hers, and then beams at them, maintaining her middle finger and growing more confident by the second. Tweek wants to bang his head against a wall. Maybe Tweek could have found the whole situation cute if it wasn't his asshole dickhead husband teaching random (random!) kids to flip people off. Sure, Tweek thought Craig was really charming when he did it at 10 years old, but now that he's a grown man, he knows it's probably not a thing you should be teaching non-Tucker children to do.

The two watch the girl smile triumphantly at their shock. She and Craig stand there, flipping each other off. Then, as quickly as she appeared, she leaves. With a giggle, she turns and flips off the couple standing at the other side of the room, the man immediately going red in the face. He looks around for the missing girl's parents before storming off, dragging the woman behind him. The girl looks back at them and waves before running off, seemingly satisfied with her new skill. Tweek grabs Craig's hand again and quickly drags him to the next room and away from the party that might attack and kill them. He clenches his teeth as his head jerks to the side. 

Tweek’s about to tear into his husband when he’s interrupted.

“Dude, where were her parents?”

“Huh?” Craig's gaze is focused on the door they just went through, as if he could still see the little girl there. 

“They just left their kid unsupervised? This place is huge.”

“What’s wrong with-” then he remembers. A heavy weight fills his chest. Tweek swallows thickly. “Yeah. I- I wonder where they are?” 

Craig frowns and looks down at Tweek. “Are you-” 

“I’m fine, Craig.” The blonde interrupts. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not today. He’s not thinking about his parents for the rest of the day; he promised himself he wouldn't in the morning. 

Craig hums and rubs his thumb against Tweek's hand, stepping forward to continue their tour of the conservatory. “Still pretty funny we taught her the bird.”

“We?! There’s no we, Craig!” 

“Ouch.”

“Not like- urgh.” Tweeks hand tightens around Craig’s. His neck jerks. “Her parents are gonna kill us! She’s probably going to go around flipping people off!” 

“Yeah, that's why it's funny, Babe.” 

Tweek groans and leans into the man’s arm. “You suck, dude.” he complains. Then, in a quieter voice, he adds, “It was pretty funny though.” Craig laughs.

The two continue their way through the garden. Tweek oohs and ahs over the various exotic flowers, pointing to plants he likes while Craig nods in agreement. There's an overhanging tension, one he knows Craig can sense, that’s been there since the girl. He hates bringing the mood down when Craig’s been trying hard to give him a good day, so Tweek tries to ignore it. He tries to let nature take over his senses and leave his mind free from any thoughts of his parents. Tweek won't let them ruin their day.

He wonders what they're doing with this day now that he's not there anymore.

“-And then Jimmy tried to convince us that this was the year we finally throw you a surprise party.” Tweek watched as Craig leaned over the railing to sniff a flowering vine. He laughs when his face scrunches at the scent. 

“Ugh. No way, man.” 

“Don’t worry, Babe, I told him no way in hell.” Tweek nods in approval. “Then he called us boring.”

“We are boring.” 

Craig squeezes his hand. “I never said he was wrong. Oh!” Tweek’s husband pulls him towards an arched trellis, white flowers twisting around the wood. It’s clearly set up for a photo op. Tweek can see a flowing fountain behind them, the water leading to a small stream that runs under a picturesque bridge, the perfect background for a nice photo. 

“Hon, let’s take a picture.” Tweek agrees and pulls out his phone, swiping his camera open. Craig wraps his arm around Tweek’s shoulders, pressing close to the blonde and leaning into him. Positioning them towards the best view, Tweek holds his arm up, centering the two in the middle.

“Ready?”

His finger hovers over the shutter icon. Craig nods and pulls him in tight. Right before Tweek snaps the picture, however, Craig presses a sloppy wet kiss to his cheek, capturing the moment in his phone. Tweek laughs and pushes him back, cheeks red. “Ahg! You’re so gross, Craig!" He smiles, using his arm to wipe the spit off his face. Tweek brings his phone closer to look at the photo. Craig peers over him from behind. Before he can bring up his gallery, Tweek instinctively swipes down, opening his notifications for just a moment. It's brief. Tweek shouldn't have even noticed what was or was not there. But he did. His face falters, the joy from moments before leaving his body.

He said he wasn't going to look.

“Send me that.” Craig says from over his shoulder, “It's cute. I want to post it.” Tweek just hums in agreement, quickly sending it off. He's learned by now that trying to get his husband to stop spreading their identities and faces online is a useless battle. He didn't stop when they were ten, he didn't stop when they were 16, and he sure as hell hasn't stopped now.

His parents used to love that about Craig.

Before Tweek puts his phone away, he casually sets his phone to vibrate. Just in case. 

He's quiet for the hour they have left in the gardens. After a few too many one word answers, Craig picks up on his funk. The man keeps looking at him concerned, but Tweek waves him off. He's determined to have a good birthday, even if he has to will it into existence. Just because all of his birthdays from the age of eleven and up have been disappointing doesn't mean that this one will too. He's not stuck under their thumb anymore. They can’t do anything to him. Still, in between petunias and roses and jungle moss, he can't help but twitch with every notification. Tweek ignores the disappointment that seems to weigh his shoulders down whenever he glances and sees nothing new. Craig catches him looking at his phone once or twice, but he just tells his husband he's checking the time. 

Which he technically is! It's not like he's lying about it. He does check the time and him checking his phone doesn't really have anything to do with his parents because it's his day and he's not thinking about his years celebrating in the shop. Tweek is not thinking about sitting in the center of the shop all day, opening a pile of gifts. He's definitely not thinking about the decorations and the limited time birthday drink and the way his parents would ruffle his hair and tell every customer how proud they were of their little boy.

That would be crazy. And Tweek isn't crazy. Not anymore. He's a whole grown ass man and is better than he was when he was a kid.

It’s still light outside, despite the later hour, when they reach the end of the garden. The perks of a summer birthday. 

“You didn’t have to take the day off. We could have just had dinner with your parents.” Tweek says.

“We could have,” Craig agrees. “But you deserve more.”

God, he loves this man. Tweek pulls Craig into an amorous kiss, wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck. Craig's hands settle on his waist. His touch is firm, comfortable like his waist had been carved to fit every groove of his fingers. Right as Craig begins to pull him closer, deepening the kiss like they were teenagers in their bedrooms and not two adult men in a public space, Tweek feels his phone buzz from his back pocket. He stiffens. 

Craig pulls back, pupils blown and out of breath, but even the sight of him can't pull Tweek’s mind away from his phone. He knows it’s going to be some random app. It’s probably one of the many games he's installed, or someone on Facebook wishing him happy birthday, or- or- Tweek twitches. Or it could be an email. Something like that. Craig leans in again, pressing his lips to Tweek’s but pulls back and frowns when Tweek doesn’t reciprocate. 

“Tweek, Honey, you’re obviously upset about something. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.” 

“I’m not- urgh- I’m not upset.”

“If I have to talk about my feelings, so do you.” Ugh. He hates when Craig is right. He should have never made him learn healthy communication and the value of emotions. Hindsight is always 20/20. 

Tweek sighs, trying to figure out how to say it and not say it at the same time. “It’s just… My birthday. I’m trying to have a good time, but I just keep getting in my head about it all!” Craig knows how he feels about his birthdays. He’s been there for most of them. He was there when Tweek had big celebrations at the shop, he was there when he asked his dad if he could have a more private birthday, and he was there when he realised why his parents said no. Despite how hard Craig had tried, until he escaped, he just didn’t have any good associations with them.

Craig hums. “We don't have to go to dinner, we can always go some other time.” he offers.

“I’m okay. I- I want to go. Your parents they- they drove a long way to be here and-”

“And they'd understand if you just want to go home. It’s your birthday, Tweek. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Craig grasps both of Tweek's shaky hands and gently squeezes, but Tweek shakes his head. 

“We're going.” He feels a notification vibrate in his pocket and tries so hard to not twitch that he goes completely still for a beat before shaking even harder. 

With a deep breath, Craig relents. “Okay.” 

The two walk back to their car hand in hand. It takes all of Tweek’s self control to not check his phone after the last vibration. It’s an act of pure resilience on his part. He should be proud. He’s not going to grab it. He’s stronger than he was as a kid. He has better self control, enough that he can not look at his phone for 15 minutes.

Tweek’s hand is on the passenger door handle when a sudden chime sounds.

His phone is ringing.

Tweek’s heart drops as dread fills his body. His mouth goes dry. He can feel himself immediately start sweating as he stands there, frozen.

“Tweek.” 

Oh god. 

“Tweek-”

Oh god.

Craig's eyebrow raises. “Are you going to answer the phone?”

Tweek swallows thickly and gives a sharp nod. Time seems to go in slow motion. His hand shakes, his palms are sweaty, so sweaty that he swears the back of his phone gleams as he pulls it out. He’s too scared to turn it over and see who's calling, but Craig is standing there, waiting and watching. He has to do it. Tweek braces himself.

“Laura Tucker”

His whole body deflates. It's just Craig’s mom. 

Tweek answers the phone, bringing it to his ear. “Hey, Laura.”

“Hey Tweek. Just calling to let you guys know that we’ll be a littllllle late to the restaurant tonight.”

“Heh. Yeah. Okay.” It’s just Craig’s mom.

“What is she saying?” 

Tweek opens the car door and slides inside. “They’re gonna be late.” Craig groans. 

It’s Laura. 

“Is that Craig?” 

“Yeah, he’s right here.” 

“Has he been good for your birthday? He better be.”

“ack- Craig’s been great. He always is.” 

He hears his mother-in-law suddenly swear, her husband grumbling in the background.

“Mother fucker- Ugh.” She complains, “I don’t get how the drivers here are worse than South Park. I’m glad to hear Craig’s taking care of you. We’ll see you guys soon. We’ll send a text when we’re close.”

“Bye.”

“Love you. Bye. Use your fucking turn signal, assho-” The call ends.

Craig starts the car before looking over at Tweek. “How late did they say they were going to be?” Tweek shrugs. His husband dramatically sighs, a look of exaggerated agony on his face. “We’ll just have to meet them there. Our reservation is in 30 minutes.” 

Tweek hums in agreement, setting his phone in his lap and looking out the window as Craig pulls out of the lot. He’s still shaken from the call. He thought he was getting the call he had been waiting for all day and the only thing he could feel was utter dread. It makes sense. At the same time, he still couldn’t help but feel disappointed that it wasn't them. Tweek’s head jerks with a twitch. He shouldn’t be. He wanted this. It’s exactly the boundary he set… Why don’t they call? His knee starts to bounce up and down. 

He feels Craig place a hand on his thigh, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Both hands on the wheel!” Dutifully, Craig’s hands go back to ten and two. 

The two are only silent for a few moments before Craig's voice cuts over their softly playing Pandora mix. 

“I’m still thinking about that little girl,” he says casually. 

Tweek groaned. He puts his head in his hands. “I can’t believe we did that.” 

“It was cute.”

“Her parents probably want to kill us.”

“Yeah, but they won’t.” Craig chuckles. “They didn’t even notice their kid was gone.” Tweek takes a deep breath, inhaling through his nose and out through his mouth, just like he had been taught so many years ago.

“You know,” Craig’s eyes drift toward him before snapping back to the road. “If I were her parent, I would never leave my kid like that.” He turns, as if gauging Tweek's reaction. Tweek peeks through his fingers back at him. This is where he should play along. Show Craig that he thinks he’d be a really really good dad. But he can’t. 

Craig keeps hinting at it. The kid thing. Maybe that’s why his birthday this year has hit especially hard. Tweek doesn’t want to think about it.

Tweek doesn’t respond and Craig goes back to watching the road.

His phone buzzes. Tweek grits his teeth.

Craig hums along to the song drifting from the speakers. His phone buzzes again. Tweek’s leg starts jumping faster. His eyes can’t help but dart down to his phone and back up again.

They’re still ten minutes from Tweek’s favorite restaurant when it happens again. His neck pops from how hard it jerks to the side. With shaking hands, he rubs at it, eyes drifting towards the stupid device in his lap.

Craig’s eyebrows furrow when he notices Tweek glance at his phone for the third time. The man takes a deep breath.

“Tweek, they’re not going to-”

“I know, Craig." 

He knows. Tweek doesn't need someone else to point it out to him. Craig is so gentle but also so blunt. Tweek knew what he was getting into when he married the man, but right now it just hurts. He knew they wouldn’t call. Why would they? There’s no reason for him to be so on edge.

“I’m just saying, Honey. Is this why you’ve been freaking out all day?” Tweek grunts, curling into himself. “I-” Craig takes a second to think through what he’s going to say. “Do you even want them to call?” 

“I don’t want to talk about this right now. We’re about to see your parents and I’ll just be upset the whole time.”

“You’ve been upset,” there's a tinge of frustration in his voice, just for a second, before it drops into something softer. “And they’re your parents too.” 

“I know.” Tweek says quietly. “Sorry, Craig. I know you wanted me to be happy today.”

“Yeah, well. We can’t always get what we want.”  

Tweek’s ruined it. He’s wasted the whole day. Craig has been so sweet and trying so hard to make him have good memories for his birthday and instead of enjoying it, he’s spent the whole day being crazy. He’s strong enough to not cry, he can’t show up to dinner with puffy eyes and snot running down his face, but he feels like he should. Every year Tweek messes it up. Why does he have to be so fucking insane? Everyone in South Park would call him nuts, and spazzy, and practically every word in the dictionary for someone who should be locked up in the psych ward and even after leaving and getting into a better, healthier environment, he's still like this. People make wishes on their birthday, right? Well, he wishes he could just be normal. Tweek hates freaking out. He hates how he ruins things with his stupid brain that doesn’t work right. 

His phone buzzes again.

Tweek looks at it. 

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive. Craig parks and pulls the keys out before looking at Tweek. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to bail?”

“I’m fine, Craig.”

The two walk into the restaurant, noting the reservation for the Tuckers, and are quickly whisked to their table. 

“Mom says they’re 5 minutes out.” 

Tweek has never minded the Tuckers’ chronic tardiness. It drives Craig up the wall, but it’s endearing to Tweek. Maybe it’s something about their imperfection but, even though it’s always a surprise when they’ll show up, it brings him some sort of warmth. They show up on time for the important things anyways.

Under the table, Craig rubs small soothing circles into his knee with his thumb. Tweek leans into his arm, as close to him as he could possibly get. He presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Thanks for everything today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.” 

Craig turns to look at him and frowns. “Why are you apologizing? You can’t control how you feel.” 

Tweek looks away, trembling, avoiding Craig's eyes. “I love you.” 

Craig presses a kiss into his hair. “I love you too, Tweek.”

14 minutes later, after they’ve both received a fancy cocktail, Thomas and Laura come fluttering in. 

“Happy birthday!” Tweek stands to welcome them, giving them a small smile. 

“Thanks, Laura.” He sees her eye him head to toe, probably wondering why he’s shaking so hard. Tweek shrinks under her gaze. 

He nearly screams when he suddenly feels a smack on his back. “Happy birthday, son.” Craig’s dad smiles at him, squeezing his shoulder. Thomas has never really known his own strength and the squeeze is tighter than Tweek would have liked, his grip suffocating in his state. The touch makes his skin crawl. Maybe Craig was right. They probably should have just gone home.

The couple sit down in front of them, gazing at the menu and making small talk. Tweek listens, nibbling on complimentary bread, as his in-laws and husband exchange updates. He jolts when his phone buzzes. He peeks at it from under the table, ignoring Craig’s side-eye. Tolkien sent him a gift. How nice. 

Tweek can feel his throat rumbling with a quiet, but constant, uncontrollable groan. 

“-And you know Lianne? ” Craig leans in, nodding. “She’s gotten fat.” 

He scoffs. “Of course she did.”

Thomas meets Tweek's gaze and rolls his eyes. Fucking gossips. 

He jolts again when his phone vibrates for a second time. This time Craig looks at him and gestures for him to hand over his phone. Confused, Tweek quickly checks the notification (a text message with a coupon for the diner down the street from their apartment) and hands it over. Craig silences it and slides it in his own pocket. Tweek’s eye twitches. 

Tweek is calm. Tweek is normal and cool because this isn’t a problem whatsoever. Deep breath. In and out. One. In and out. Two. He doesn’t need to check his phone. In and out. 

This restaurant is too fucking loud. 

“-Tweek?” Tweek's head jerks to attention. The waiter was taking the table's orders. Shit. 

“Grah! I’ll have the-” He doesn’t have his phone. What if his parents called? “The-” Craig's hand goes to Tweek’s leg but he quickly pulls it away. “The-” God, what if they changed and this was his last chance to make up with them?! “I’llhavethetomatopestoplease!” the waiter nods and writes it down and goes through their order again. At Craig’s confirmation, he walks away.

Tweek needs his phone. Tweek needs to be normal and enjoy his birthday with his husband and his husband’s family who love him. 

But what if his parents haven’t called because they’re dead? No one’s said anything but Laura and Thomas would tell him if his parents died, right? He needs to calm down. What if they wanted to make up but died before they could even try? Inhale. Puppies. Stripe and Racer. Did Tweek want to make up? The garden they were just at. If he did, would they even forgive him? Exhale. If he returns to the shop, they won’t be upset with him anymore, right? Craig’s awful snoring. Tweek can be easier to have around this time if he just tries harder to be normal. Exhale. Wait, he doesn’t want to talk to them! Exhale. Or does he? 

He’s messed up the order. Exhale. Or was he on inhale? 

Fuck. He doesn’t have enough air.

Tweek chokes, quickly reaching for his drink to try and fix himself. His hands are too shaky and he’s moving too fast and the drink spills all over his shirt and suddenly everything is too much and everything is too loud and his skin feels itchy and he needs to scratch under his skin and he needs out he needs his phone and he needs to breathe and he needs-

The chair screeches as Tweek stands up. “Ihavetogo!”

“Tweek?”

Tweek races to the bathroom, thanking every god he knows that it’s empty. He locks himself in a stall. Now that it’s been shaken loose and now that he’s alone, it all spills over. Tears start pooling in his eyes and streaming down his face. God, why is he being so dumb about this? Stupid stupid stupid. He can’t tear at his hair like he wants to or else Craig will be upset and he doesn’t think he could handle that on top of everything else. Tweek flexes his fingers, tightening them then extending them as far as they can go over and over and over and-

He hears the door swing open.

Tweek tried so hard to be happy today. He tried so hard not to ruin everything but he did anyway. He has everything. A husband, a sister, in laws who practically raised him, and he's still here crying in the bathroom over people he left 5 years ago. It’s been too long for him to feel their absence this deeply.

“Tweek? You in here?” 

Tweek isn’t even surprised to hear Craig's voice. They should be out there enjoying their dinner. He hates his parents. He hates them so much. But god. He wants them to want him anyway.

Slowly, with shaking hands, Tweek unlocks the stall door, letting it drift open. He rubs at his eyes roughly, trying to power through the tears. Craig stays five feet away from Tweek, giving him distance. 

“Honey, talk to me.” 

“Are my parents dead?” 

“What?” Craig looks at him, confused. Tweek scrambles up and out of the stall, placing his hands on Craig's shoulders, gripping them, hunched over and practically begging.

Tweek tics. “Grah. My parents, man. Are they dead? Oh god, have they been dead this whole time?!” 

“I think my parents would have said something if they were.” 

“Look it up!” Obediently, the tall man pulls out his phone. After a few taps, his lip curls in disgust. “What? What?! What’s wrong?!” 

Craig puts his phone in his pocket. Tweek resists the urge to reach in and check it himself. “Yup. They're still kicking. They post about you like you’re still talking to them.” 

Tweek stops breathing.

“Baby, what’s going on?” 

He can’t hold it in anymore. It bursts out of him like a dam breaking.

“I thought they’d call! I keep waiting for it and waiting for it and it never comes! I know deep down they won’t but I wanted to hope, man! I just- I want them to call and beg for my forgiveness and I want to never talk to them again and I’m so frustrated that I’m upset about this!” Tweek stumbles away from Craig, the force of his panic hitting him like a physical blow.

“They’re not even here anymore! They're not doing anything and I'm still freaking out. The worst part is: they're probably not even thinking about me, and I'm stuck thinking about them! I can't escape, Craig!” Tweek starts pounding at his head, past the point of wanting to tug at his hair. His fists clenched, he beats at his brain trying to knock the stupid thoughts out of his skull. 

“Woah. Woah.” Craig reaches for him, trying to grab at his arms and stop him but it just slows him down. He wrestles him, wrapping himself around Tweek as he struggles. After a few moments of sheer survival, Tweek’s adrenalin drops and he finally leans onto Craig. He pants and stares at the ceiling.

“I’m so tired of them taking from me, Craig.”

Craig's grip around him grows tighter. 

“I don’t want to care anymore.”

“But you do.”

“I do.”

He feels Craig breathing against his chest. His heartbeat is slower than Tweek’s. If he concentrates just right, maybe he can match it.

“That’s hard.”

Tweek laughs wetly. “Yeah. It is.”

“I don’t really know what to do,” Craig admits. “I hate your parents. I don’t like that you have to go through all of this. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m just- Ugh. I’m messed up over this.” Tweek closes his eyes and pretends he’s not standing in a bathroom. Instead, he’s holding onto Craig in a grassy field. Guinea pigs are running around at their feet.

“You are. But that’s not really a surprise, Babe. These things don’t go away easily, remember?”

Tweek sighs. He knows Craig's right. He’s probably said the same thing to Craig in the past. But knowing he’s right doesn’t make it any easier. 

“I know. I’m sorry again, Craig.” 

Craig starts to sway them back and forth. “Don’t apologise. That’s dumb. If anyone should apologise it's them.” he emphasizes the word like it's a slur, the word dirty in his mouth.

Tweek snorts. “Fat chance.”

“It’s okay. We’ll just have to kick their ass. Or asses I guess.” 

“We can not kick my parent’s asses,” Tweek says with a wet laugh. “They’ll probably threaten to, I don’t know, sell us out for drugs or something.” 

“Damn. There goes that plan. Guess we’ll just have to stay here, in this bathroom, while Mom and Dad wait to eat their cold spaghetti with us.” 

Tweek rolls his eyes, and lets himself fall out of the taller man’s hold. “Okay, I get it, man.”

“I’m just joking we can stay here as long as you need, Honey.” 

“Just-” Deep breath. “Give me a few minutes.” 

Craig nods and leans against the wall, pulling his phone out to scroll as Tweek settles himself. Looking in the mirror, it's obvious that he’s been crying. Tweek looks like a wreck. It’s no wonder Laura was eyeing him earlier. He bunches up a wad of towels and runs them under cold water, and squeezes them out before pressing them to his face.

In. Out. One. In. Out. Two. He gets all the way to fifteen before he gets sick of the wet feeling. Dropping the bundle in the trash, Tweek takes a moment to close his eyes and fully settle his nerves. He can’t seem to get himself to stop shaking, but it softens to a more manageable jitter. 

He is strong. And human. And is capable of more than he thinks. 

Deep breath.

Tweek is going to leave this bathroom in a reasonable amount of time. He is going to sit down, and enjoy his favorite tomato pesto dish and sneak sips of Craig’s drink, and talk, even if he stutters. And it will be okay and good and fine and then they will go home and it will all be over.

Craig. Their guinea pigs in tiny suits. Heirloom tomatoes from the pot on their windowsill that Tweek’s too scared to let them eat.

“Ready?”

Tweek opens his eyes, meeting Craig’s in the mirror. 

“Yeah. I’m ready.” He offers his hand to Craig, who immediately interlocks their fingers and gives him a squeeze.

“You’ll forget them someday.” he says softly.

“What if I don’t? What if they haunt me forever like- like a curse?” 

“Then we’ll deal with it.” 

Craig says it like it’s a fact. No room for argument. Self assured in a way only he could be. They’ll deal with it. Someday, he’ll be okay.

“Okay.” Tweek stands up straight. “Okay. I’m ready. I can do this.” 

“You’re capable of more than you think.”

“I’m capable of more than I think.”

“I love you.”

“I love-” He looks at Craig and smiles. “I love you.” Craig’s ears go pink, a soft look on his face. “Come on, man” The blonde starts to guide them out of the bathroom and through the restaurant back to their table. 

“Do you want your phone back?” Tweek considers it. As agonising as it was, Craig was smart to take it away. Now that he’s calmed down, though, he should be fine. He can always give it back if he needs to. 

Also, if there’s an emergency he should have his phone on hand, so this really works out for everyone because then he can call 911 if the entire restaurant got food poisoning, or started choking at the same time and he was the only one who could call. 

“Yes I need my phone!” Craig looks at him amused, handing the phone over to Tweek, who powers it back on and slips it back into his pocket. 

Hand in hand, the two make their way back, giving Laura and Thomas their apologies when they return. The two wave them off, used to Tweek’s “Tweekisms” by now. Letting go of Craig's hand, Tweek sits back down. His body feels heavy with the weight of the- the everything. He’s exhausted. Today has been… Tweek doesn’t like his birthday. Doesn’t think he ever will. 

He doesn't think he’ll ever stop expecting that call.

But Tweek has to be okay. He knows he will be, that even if today is bad, he still has all the good parts of it. Craig's foot nudges Tweek’s. He keeps it there, letting Tweek decide if he wants his touch. Tweek nudges back, letting his shoes touch his husband’s. He’ll get through the day. He’ll fall asleep. And then next year they can try again. 

Tweek breathes.

“We got you a gift!” Laura smiles gently at him, handing over a small gift bag full of paper. 

He will be okay.

“Thanks, guys.” Tweek reaches in, pulling out a nice wooden cutting board. Carved in it are Tweek and Craig’s initials, just like their tree in South Park. He smiles, genuinely.

“Made it myself,” Thomas boasts. “I think it turned out pretty nice.

He can enjoy his birthday.

“Don’t forget the card!” Laura adds, standing to reach over and shuffle around the paper.

His phone vibrates. Tweek’s smile cracks.

Maybe it’s his parents this time.