Chapter Text
Tweek has a routine.
Every day, he wakes up at 5:30, gets dressed, then frantically tries to study and/or finish his homework. At 7:25, he walks to the bus stop, hops onto the hellhole that is a public school bus. Then, after checking and then double-checking that he has everything he needs from his locker, he starts the school day. It drags out until 2:30. Then he has 30 minutes to make it to his 3 to 11 shift at the coffee shop.
It’s familiar. Easy. Tweek likes knowing what's going on and what’s going to happen. He wakes up at the same time, sits next to the same people, deals with the same worries, and sees the same customers day after day. Sometimes people are sick and miss a day or two, but it's always close enough to follow a linear path.
With quick hands, Tweek makes Mrs. Testaburger’s double shot latte (with 3 pumps of vanilla), expertly pulling the shots before dumping them in the hot milk. It only takes a few minutes before he sets the steaming drink down on the counter, giving the woman a nod when she takes her drink. Now that she’s gotten her drink, Tweek will pretty much be done for the day, even though they close at eleven. He has no idea why they stay open so late when they get maybe 2 people after the afternoon rush. Even his classmates, kids who stay up late and make trouble, don’t even stop by for one of the blended drinks that Tweek developed. But Tweek doesn’t make the hours.
At least he has time to do his homework.
After refilling the goth kid’s pot of drip, Tweek leans on the back counter, taking a moment to just relax. He can get started on his schoolwork later. He still has, like, 7 hours left till he can go home anyways. Making the decision to put his work off, Tweek pulls out his phone, easily getting sucked into the latest Twitter drama. He’s about 6 opinionated posts in when he realises it’s almost time to see Craig.
Craig Tucker walks by the shop almost every day. To be fair, he’s not the only one who walks by the shop, it’s on the way into downtown for half of South Park, but he is one of the few who always looks in as they pass. Some days he glances in as he walks by, and some days he stops to look. Tweek doesn’t know why he doesn’t come in if he’s so curious about it. Occasionally, Craig makes eye contact with Tweek through the glass and, before he can gesture the raven haired boy in, he turns and looks away like he wasn’t looking, his face a burning red.
It’s cute.
Craig’s always been one of the better looking kids in their grade, and he was always good company when they were kids. They used to be close. It’s honestly a shame that they drifted apart a while back. Even though they haven’t spoken in… Probably years, Tweek’s always had a certain fondness for the boy.
But Tweek’s fondness for Craig doesn’t explain what happens next.
As Tweek looks up from his phone, he sees Craig through the window. He smiles as, per usual, Craig has stopped and is gazing inside. When their eyes meet, Craig’s head quickly turns, avoiding his gaze. Then he does something new. Something Tweek could have never predicted.
He walks into the shop.
Tweek scrambles up to the register as the bell rings.
“Welcome to Tweek Bros!” He calls out. Craig beelines towards the register, not even glancing at the menu, his eyes honed onto Tweek with an uncomfortable intensity. Tweek, with well-practiced hands, picks up his sharpie, preparing to take his order. The tall boy stops in front of the counter. “What can I get you?”
Craig says nothing, just looks at Tweek. His gaze is intense and focused, almost unblinking as he stares into Tweek’s eyes. The longer Craig stands there, silent, the more Tweek starts to panic. This isn’t how this interaction is supposed to go. Craig’s not supposed to walk into the shop, and customers aren’t supposed to stay silent at the register. Also, Craig’s pretty tall which is hot, but also kind of scary when he leans over Tweek.
Tweek tics. “Can I help you?” He asks nervously.
It’s silent for a single beat.
“No.”
Then, just as quickly as he entered, Craig turns and leaves, the bell ringing as the door closes behind him.
What the fuck was that?
The whole interaction was so short, and so weird that Tweek almost feels like he imagined the whole thing. It had to be real, right? A couple of the customers looked up when the bell rang, so someone must have left. But why?
Without a newfound curiosity, the blonde looks out the big glass windows, wondering if he can spot Craig, but the boy is gone without a trace. There are no clues as to where he’s gone or why Craig’s suddenly approaching him after years of silence. By doing more than just looking through the glass, Tweek’s daily routine has been broken. Strangely enough, though, he doesn’t really mind.
He mostly just hopes Craig shows up again tomorrow.
It takes less than 24 hours for Tweek to see Craig again.
He doesn’t even notice him enter this time. Tweek’s too busy mentally cursing out his parents as he goes through the afternoon rush by himself, frantically going from the register and the machines, then back again. The line is long, just like it is every day, but Tweek’s almost through it. If his count is right, he just has a few more drinks before it ends.
“Alexis!” He shouts, setting the cup onto the counter. “Moira!” Wiping his hands on his apron, Tweek turns back to the register, his eyes widening when he sees who’s at the front of the line. Craig Tucker, with his intense stare, stands there, looking directly at Tweek.
Oh my god.
Tweek hurries to the register. “W-Welcome to Tweek Bros, what can I get you?”
Craig looks at him, up and down, before snapping back to his face. “Um?” Tweek says, suddenly self-conscious.
Craig seems to come to his senses. “Oh- uh.” He looks away. “I want to apologise for yesterday.”
Tweek laughs nervously. “Uh, no problem, man. No big deal.”
“It was rude. I’m sorry.”
“Seriously, it's not the weirdest thing that’s happened here. I was mostly just confused,” he assures him.
“I just-”
“Are you going to order, asshole? There’s a line.”
Tweek has to hold back his laughter when Craig scowls, flipping off the guy behind him. That’s the Craig he remembers.
“You should probably order before everyone starts rioting,” Tweek tells him warmly.
Craig rolls his eyes. “They can wait all day if they’re going to be dicks.”
“Just order, man.”
Craig looks at the menu in front of him. It takes him half a minute to look over the options, but Tweek can tell by his face that he has no idea what he’s doing. “I have no idea what any of these are,” he admits, a faint blush on his face.
“Well,” Tweek says, eyeing the increasingly impatient line behind him, “I’m an expert. Do you want me to pick?” Craig nods. “Okay.”
Tweek has to think about it. Back when they were kids, Craig hated coffee. He quite literally gagged every time Tweek let him sip from his cup. Maybe that’s changed now that they’re older, but he doesn’t want to risk it. So, coffee-based drinks are out. Maybe something milk-based? Something sweet?
Then it hits him.
Whenever he’d go over to Craig’s house, Tweek would always bring drinks for the two. Sometimes he’d mix it up and bring Craig something new off the menu, or one of the messy and questionable recipes Tweek would make up, but most of the time he just brought hot chocolate.
“Size?”
His eyes darted to the clock, then back. “Large.”
Tweek nods and grabs a cup, writing the order down, then tapping the code into the register.
“That’ll be $6.81”
Craig searches his pockets before pulling out a wad of crinkled cash. He pulls a 10 dollar bill from the middle and hands it over. Tweek counts out his change and smiles at the boy in front of him when Craig dumps it all in the tip jar. He doesn’t get paid hourly, and only gets a third of the tips, so every little bit helps. With a nod, Craig steps to the side.
“Finally,” the man behind him says, exasperated.
After working his way through the last few people in line, Tweek falls into his favorite part of the job: Making the drinks. If you ignore the pressure of making things for people, and the anxiety of being in a rush and getting the drinks out quickly, it’s fun. He’s always liked working with his hands and building things, and making drinks is pretty much just that. It’s a well-familiar dance. Decide which drink comes first depending on temperature, then working the machines and mixing the ingredients precisely.
Being the only iced drink, Tweek starts with Craig’s.
It feels like there’s more pressure with his drink. He doesn't want to disappoint his old friend. Tweek had always wanted his approval when they were kids. They were friends, but something in Tweek always wanted to impress him, and just him. Who cared about the other kids? Of course now Tweek knows that it’s because he’s gay as hell, but back then he thought Craig was his bestest friend ever, and he never wanted him to ever leave Tweek. It’s been a long time since then, but it's still too easy to fall into the familiar pattern of wanting Craig to like him.
With confident hands, Tweek scoops ice into the blender and throws in some hot chocolate mix and whole milk. After searching their cabinets, he cracks one of their rarely used cans of condensed milk and scoops a hearty helping into the mix. For a second, he contemplates adding a syrup, but Craig’s always been a simple guy and he leaves it be. With a quick blend, the drink is in the cup, doused in whipped cream with chocolate sprinkles, and lidded. Tweek rushes through the rest of the drinks, but Craig’s is the only one he’s worried about. It’s the only unfamiliar one, and the fear that Craig will hate his drink is starting to consume him.
“Orders for Stephen! Moira! Alexis! Gerald! Cr-” He’s about to call Craig's name, but the boy is already at the counter before he can finish. Tweek hands him the frozen drink. He looks at it curiously, stepping to the side so the rest of the customers could grab their drinks, before moving back in front of Tweek. The blonde wrings his hands nervously.
“You-You can’t hate me if it's bad, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“I thought you might-” Craig brings the straw to his lips but Tweek shrieks and launches himself at him, stopping the taller boy before he can take a sip.
“WAIT!”
Craig’s eyes are wide with shock as Tweek’s hands go over his own, tugging at the drink and pulling it down and away from his mouth. “Oh god! I didn't even ask you if you were allergic to anything!” He wasn’t allergic to anything back then, but some allergies develop when you get older! What if Craig’s lactose intolerant AND allergic to milk now?! He could have died! “What if you- You're going to die! And it’ll be my fault! Then I’ll go to jail and-”
“Tweek.” Tweek freezes. “I’m not allergic to anything.”
He sighs in relief. “Oh. Okay.” It only takes a few seconds for him to realise he’s still holding Craig’s hands. Quickly, he drops them and takes a step back. His body jerks a few times before apologising. “Sorry.”
Craig looks at the drink in his hands, then back at Tweek. His face flushes. Suddenly he’s reaching out. “My name is Craig.” he blurts out.
Tweek smiles and reaches out to shake his hand. It’s warm and soft in his grip. “I know that, man.”
“You know my…?”
“Dude, we were, like, best friends for a while. Also, we’ve been in the same school since kindergarten. I'm in two of your classes this semester.”
Craig drops his hand to rub at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I thought you might have forgotten.”
Like he could have ever forgotten Craig Tucker.
Tweek snorts. “How dumb do you think I am?”
“You’re not dumb! I know that you’re really smart! I just-” He looks at Tweek nervously, then takes a sip of his drink. His eyes widen in genuine surprise. “This is really good, Tweek.”
Tweek’s body relaxes at his words. “Really?”
“Yeah. What is it.”
“It's a frozen hot chocolate. They’re usually a seasonal item, but I remembered you liked hot chocolate, so I thought you might like it.” Is it weird to remember that? It’s probably weird to remember that when they’re not even friends anymore, right? Tweek taps his foot nervously.
“Oh. Cool.”
Tweek kind of feels bad for Craig. Whenever he hears someone talk about the boy nowadays, they always call him an asshole or something. Which Tweek gets, but he’s pretty sure he’s not actually an asshole. He mostly just says what he thinks is true. Also, during the whole conversation, and maybe Tweek’s just better at recognising this than others, he just kind of seemed anxious. Tweek wouldn't be surprised if that came across as blunt and bitchy. Sometimes people say the same thing about him.
Craig shifts from foot to foot, sipping his drink quietly in front of Tweek. Tweek is about to say something, make friendly conversation, but Craig beats him to it.
“Can I study here?” Craig asks, his face blank.
The blond tilts his head. “Yeah? This is a coffee shop, dude.”
Craig stares at him, embarrassed, an awkward silence forming between them. “Right. Um. Well-” He hesitates. “Bye, Tweek.” Without warning, Craig turns around and walks out the front door, the bell ringing behind him.
Tweek stares at his retreating back, confused. Wasn’t he going to study here?