So um...yeah. South Park. More specifically, South Park fanfiction. DON'T JUDGE ME!

And for those familiar with my work, let me stress to you that I AM still planning on finishing all my other fanfictions! It may just take a while, because I've got this new South Park obsession and I've been drawing and working ten-hour days at my job. So yeah. But I've still got Left 4 Dead, Ed Edd n Eddy and Full Metal Alchemist fanfiction I want to finish. So yeah.

I'm not quite sure where this story is going, but I had to write it because I love Tweek.

"You got a job," Token asked, giving him a blank stare from across the lunch table, "an actual job, at Harbucks?"

"Yeah, so what?" Craig asked, simultaneously sipping on his milk carton and flipping Token off.

"So," Token set down his book and nodded toward Craig's uplifted middle finger, "that. Dude, you're gonna flip off every customer who comes into the store!"

Craig set down his milk carton and studied his still-uplifted finger as if it were some foreign entity that had decided to make its place on his hand.

"Oh," he said and withdrew the finger.

"Does Mr. Tweak know that you're an asshole, Craig?" Clyde asked over his pizza. Craig flipped him off too.

"He hired me, didn't he?"

"He was probably just desperate for a replacement since Kenny got laid off the other day. His hands got burnt pretty bad, so he's kinda useless," Clyde remarked as Kenny shuffled past, his hands mittened by thick white bandages. Stan, Kyle and Cartman weren't far behind, with Kyle struggling to hold an extra lunch tray for his wounded friend.

"Hey Kenny!" Clyde called out, beckoning him over.

"Mnh?" Kenny turned and looked at them, his raised eyebrows disappearing into the hood of his parka.

"Does Mr. Tweak know that Craig's an asshole?" Token asked, "because me and Clyde think he doesn't."

"Um, well you gahs," Cartman stated matter-of-factly, "Craig is indeed an asshole, and you'd have to be a blind baby monkey riddled with SARS not to see it."

Craig flipped him off.

"Whnnyuuwannano?" Kenny asked behind the heavy fluff of his jacket.

"'Cuz apparently Mr. Tweak gave him your old job," Clyde answered. Kenny sent a quick glare toward Craig.

"Fckyu, Crg!" he grumbled before stomping away angrily. Craig raised his middle finger to Kenny's departing back.

"Son of a bitch! Kenny, take your damn tray!" Kyle ran after him with the two trays balanced precariously in his hands.

Stan slid into the seat beside Token, an eyebrow raised at Craig.

"You know what this means, right?"

"Craig will be preparing us delicious Harbucks coffee every day. Free of charge, of course..." Cartman plopped down beside him, a glint of hungry excitement in his eyes. He'd dropped a few pounds since childhood, but unfortunately, his psychopathic tendencies had yet to lessen. No one got better in South Park.

Craig flipped him off while scooping up a slice of pizza with his free hand.

"No, fatass," Stan snipped, "it means that Craig will be working with Tweek."

All five of them cast a look toward the entrance of the cafeteria, where the trembling blonde boy sat alone at a small, round table, clutching a thermos tightly to his chest.

No one got better in South Park. And Tweek Tweak was certainly no exception.

As the years had passed and the kids of South Park grew, they had all begun to realize that Tweek was, to put it kindly, kind of fucked up. They hadn't exactly been all wide-eyed with innocence when they were little, but they had accepted Tweek's erratic behavior and constant twitching as something normal, perhaps even something warranted. South Park, after all, wasn't the safest of havens.

But now they were in their last year of high school and they had grown to find out some of the sad truths of life. That people like Tweek were those best to be avoided, because it was people like Tweek who'd end up on the side of the road, begging for change and living in a box. People like Tweek who would have to live on the fringes of society, people like Tweek who simply could not join the others as they grew and headed for their own great destinies.

Even Timmy and Jimmy, with all their handicapabilities, were on a better path to normalcy than Tweek. The twitchy blonde boy made those two seem practically vanilla. Tweek had tried to sit with them at lunch before, but his constant outbursts made Timmy uncomfortable, and he offended Jimmy by responding to his jokes with nervous twitches instead of laughter.

Practically the entire school body had been avoiding Tweek for years now, ever since they realized he could never be like the rest of them. He could never function as one of their group, much less in society.

"Good luck, dude," Stan muttered, poking suspiciously at his green Jello, "You're going to end up getting doused with scalding coffee like Kenny was."

"Craig, for a price I can make sure Tweek is...incapacitated," Cartman offered sweetly.

Craig flipped him off.

"Thanks for coming by, Craig," Mr. Tweak remarked in his usual soft voice as Craig sauntered behind the service counter to greet him, "I'm glad you were able to start working on such short notice. It's a shame what happened to young Kenny, but I need a capable set of hands around here...losing him really had my balls in a garlic press."

Craig shrugged as the last customer left the store.

"All right, for tonight I just want you to go ahead and get acquainted with the layout of the store and where all the supplies are located. You'll start the evening shift tomorrow, but it's good to go ahead and get to know the place a little. You remember my son Tweek? He's in the back storeroom, he'll show you everything,"

Craig flipped Mr. Tweak off, but the man seemed to think nothing of it as he pointed toward a small green doorway toward the back of the service area. Craig made toward it and opened the door.

He was greeted by the sight of Tweek, hunched over on the floor, unsuccessfully trying to cut open a box with his shaking hands. As soon as he heard Craig enter, his head whipped around and he stared at the black-haired boy as if in horror, the box-cutter clattering to the floor.

"Arggh!" Tweek screamed, twitching and shuddering from his crouched position on the floor.

"What are you doing," Craig asked in uninterested monotone.

"GAH! I was just -nng- getting the stock ready for tomorrow. OH SWEET JESUS!"

Tweek struggled to pull himself up, twitching and trembling the entire time. He snapped his head to and fro and muttered softly to himself. Craig just watched.

It seemed like Tweek had gotten even worse than when they had last hung out together...which was, admittedly, years ago. Craig found the memory of their friendship difficult to remember, grains of sand long washed away by the tides of time.

Tweek had grown tall and thin, losing every ounce of childhood pudge. Craig could see the boy's wrist bones sticking out like little knobs. Screws to keep the ever-twitching hands fastened to his arms. His hair was shaggy and as wild as ever; it looked like he cut it himself and had never picked up a hairbrush in his life. His protruding cheekbones framed wild eyes, so badly stained by sleep-deprivation that the bags under them were a deep purple.

"Been a while," Craig said carelessly, "I haven't had a class with you since like...forever ago. I heard you got transferred to the special education classes."

"Nng! OH GOD! Y-yeah, kind of," Tweek fidgeted and looked down, embarrassed, "I-I just kept freaking out too much in class, man! You remember. So they moved me somewhere they said would -nng- easier to handle!"

Craig raised an eyebrow.

"And yet, you're holding down a job. Good thing your dad owns the place, I guess."

Tweek twitched, unsure if that was an insult or a compliment.

"So, your dad said you'd get me familiar with the place before my first shift tomorrow? Like where the cups and shit go."

"Y-yeah," Tweek tried to smooth down the crinkled folds of his Harbucks apron. "Well...um...this is the storeroom...and...and...this is where all the extra -nng- supplies go," he gestured toward the box that he had been unable to open. Craig simply raised his eyebrows.

Tweek gave a quick little movement and bustled past Craig, peeking his head outside the storeroom to make sure no more customers were inside, "OH JESUS!" he twitched and fidgeted his way out of the storeroom and behind the service counter. Craig followed unhappily. He felt like an idiot, being trained by essentially what amounted to a clinically insane person.

Tweek gestured to the various machines.

"There are the -argh!- blenders, and the ice machine, and the -nggh- freezer...a-and this is where we store the coffee beans OH SWEET JESUS NO!" he shrieked as he noticed the lid on one of the coffee bean containers was slightly ajar, "OH GOD WHY? Now ants and beetles and -argh!- grasshoppers are gonna get into the beans! Then my dad will sell me into -ngh- slavery! OH GOD! I can't handle slavery! PRESSURE!"

Craig stared at the blonde as he tugged frantically at his hair. In one smooth movement, Craig reached over and adjusted the lid so it fit properly onto the container. Tweek relaxed slightly, his fingers loosening around his blonde locks.

"Agh! That was c-close, man!"

"...yeah. So, are you gonna teach me how to answer phones and take orders and all that shit?"

"Answering phones? Taking orders? OH GOD NO! I c-can't do any of that! TOO MUCH PRESSURE! B-Bebe will probably teach you -ngh- all that tomorrow. I just -ARGH!- do stock and c-clean up."

"I wonder why. Where'd your dad go?"

"He -nngh- probably left for home. I-I usually lock up."

"Mmh. Okay. Well. See you tomorrow," Craig flipped Tweek off and began heading toward the door. Tweek hurried after him, nervously grasping at the fabric of his apron.

"D-don't you want to know where e-everything else is?"

"I'll figure it out eventually. See you tomorrow night,"

His hand was wrapped tightly around the door handle when Tweek exclaimed.

"WAIT! OH JESUS! Don't go! I um...if you w-wait for me to lock up, I-I can drive you home, if you want. I-I have a car..." he trailed off, glancing out the large plate glass windows to the parking lot, where a maroon sedan sat. Craig turned to look at him blankly, his hand still on the door handle.

"What."

"AHH! It's just...I-I thought we could c-catch up on stuff, s-since we're -nggh- working together now and its been -oh god- forever since we've hung out! And...and um...well, I know you w-walked here and your house is kinda far away and it's late..."

He looked up at Craig.

Craig looked back at this pathetic, trembling mess of a human being, his expression unchanging.

"I didn't know they gave licenses to the mentally challenged."

And with that, he opened the door and stepped into the dark mountain night, leaving Tweek alone and staring within a brightly-lit box of glass.

Life was a blur for Tweek. Shapes all meshed together, colors running wild, loud noises and staring faces. It was as if the entire universe was afflicted with hyperactivity, and he was the only 'normal' one.

Of course, even in that case, he'd still be the odd man out.

But with even with life rushing by like a speeding locomotive, a few things remained slow, constant...normal. His parents were a constant. They were calm and spoke softly and hadn't sold him into slavery...yet. He understood, vaguely, that they always seemed to further his anxiety, but they were soft and kind. His father's metaphors tended to scare him a little, because what if his dad started talking in metaphors all the time and Tweek couldn't understand him and they could never talk to each other again and OH GOD THE PRESSURE!

Another constant was Craig Tucker, the very person who had been ignoring him ever since the end of middle school. He had, ever since Tweek had known him, spoken in a slow, even tone. He took his time. He let everyone else's energy pass him by before he acted. He stood out in Tweek's vision, crisp and clear among the constant stream of insanity.

Tweek had it bad for Craig. The boy had only grown more alluring with age, with his pale, pointed features and stone-dark eyes, his black hair soft-looking and shaggy beneath the fabric of his chullo. Tweek watched him, sometimes, in the hallways and the cafeteria as Craig would hang out with those who he had, at one point, called friends. It seemed like all of them had grown into themselves, become desirable, worthwhile human beings. Token was handsome in his suaveness, Clyde was still a little pudgy but made up for it with good looks and charisma. And there he was, Tweek Tweak, scrawny and haggard, unable to button his shirt or tie his shoes correctly even at the age of 17.

Tweek would never admit to anyone beside himself how much he wanted Craig. He knew he was a wreck. A failure to his parents, society, and humankind in general. He had insomnia, ADD, learning disabilities, addictions, hallucinations, anxiety...and, on top of everything else, he was gay.

It was way too much pressure.

He locked the store up with a twist of his key and headed toward his car, breath puffing in the cold air.

It was a mistake to ask Craig if he wanted a ride, he knew that. Admittedly, Tweek wasn't the best driver...he frequently had panic attacks while on the road, and usually drove at least twenty miles under the speed limit. But it'd been so long since he'd been able to talk to any of his old friends. He was lonely, and longed for companionship...especially if his companion was Craig.

"It's only been a week, dude," Clyde glanced up at Craig from his place on the floor, an Xbox controller in his hand.

"Seriously, Craig," Token remarked, keeping his eyes on the game, "you can't be thinking about quitting already. Is it really that shitty a job?"

"It's not bad," Craig admitted slowly, watching his two friends duke it out on the screen, "the pay's pretty good and the benefits are...well, you know. Beneficial. It's just, I don't think I can take Tweek the freak anymore."

"Did he spill coffee on you?"

"No Clyde, he didn't spill coffee on me. God forbid he lose a precious drop," Craig rolled his eyes, "but he's always twitching and talking to himself, and making those weird noises. And he's been following me around or lingering behind me. It's driving me nuts."

"Maybe he wants to be friends again," Token shrugged, "he was kinda in our circle when we were kids, y'know?"

"Or maybe he's got a boner for you," Clyde sniggered.

"That's gross, Clyde. You're gross."

"I'm just sayin'. Stan Marsh had one for you, for a while there. When he first figured out he was queer?"

"You mean when he finally figured out he was queer," Token corrected, "and, if I remember right, you didn't seem to mind, Craig."

"Yeah, but this is kinda different. Stan is...you know. Not crazy. Well, he's kinda crazy. Him, Kyle, that whole group is. God, the whole Peru ordeal...anyway, Tweek having a boner for me would be way too creepy. He's a special needs kid."

"He's not retarded, just kinda weird. OH DAYUM, YOU JUST GOT OWNED, SON!" Token let out a victory whoop as Clyde threw down the controller in disgust. Token quickly composed himself and turned to look at Craig, "Anyway, don't you want to buy a car? You kinda need money for a car. And you kinda need a job to get money."

"Why don't you just buy me a car, you rich bastard?"

"I want a car too," Clyde piped up. Token told them both to go to hell.

"Are nights always this boring?" Craig asked, his head slumped against the Harbucks service counter. The place had been dead since 9:45, and they had another hour to go before closing.

"Ack! U-usually it's mornings and midday that are...nngh...busiest."

"Can't we just lock up early and leave?" Craig groaned.

"JESUS MAN, NO!" Tweek yelped, shaking his head back and forth so hard Craig thought it might roll clean off his shoulders, "OH GOD I'd be in so much trouble! B-besides, what if a customer came up while we were -ngh- locking the store and t-they wanted coffee and got -nngggh!- angry and took out a knife! OH JESUS I DON'T WANT TO DIE! AGGH!" the blonde dug his fingers into his hair and tugged hard on the tangled locks. Craig shot him an annoyed look.

"Jesus Christ, Tweek. Calm the fuck down."

"S-sorry. I just...s-sometimes I think about things and just can't stop thinking about them and my mind gets kinda crazy, man!" he muttered something about the government before pulling a green and tan bag out from under the counter, "w-what's this?"

Craig turned his head slightly to look at the bag.

"Food. For Swirls, my guinea pig. I picked it up before my shift."

"Ngh! I thought your guinea pig's name was Stripe?" Tweek asked, cocking his head to the side and replacing the bag. Craig arched a brow, staring at Tweek in disbelief.

"Are you retarded? I mean, seriously, are you mentally challenged? I got Stripe when I was seven, guinea pigs only live about six years. Do the math."

"He died?"

"No, dumbass, he flew away in a rocket ship. Yes, he died. I got a new one a couple years ago. Swirls."

"Do you shove Swirls up your butt too?" Tweek asked with a feeble attempt at a friendly smile. Craig's eyes widened as he rounded on Tweek, grabbing him by the collar.

"What?"

"AH! Nnngh, I-I'm sorry! I-it was a joke! 'Cuz, OH GOD, r-remember? W-when Cartman and those guys made up -nngh!- lies about to get us to fight! I'm sorry, oh sweet god please don't kill me!"

"Tweek, if you value your miserable, fucked-up life, then you'll never say anything like that again," Craig pushed Tweek away from him and snatched his coat from under the counter, striding toward the door. Tweek landed on the floor with a yelp, staring up after Craig.

"W-where are you going? Your -ah!- shift isn't over!"

"Home. If you've got a problem with it, go whine to your daddy."

A couple hours later, Craig Tucker was laying on his bed, flipping through the glossy pages of his favorite porn mag with interest. He wasn't really horny, but damn if the mag didn't get him hot every time he looked at it. The naked, slick bodies, the spread legs...the erect penises...

It was a shame, Craig thought, that the only other gay kid in South Park was Stan fucking Marsh. They'd fooled around a bit, naturally, but Craig didn't appreciate Stan as anything more than a lay, and Stan only had eyes for Kyle anyway. They still screwed around every now and then, when Craig was horny and unable to find anyone else to fuck, and when Stan was sulky and upset that he was in love with his straight best friend.

Stan was a fantastic lay. But he still pissed Craig the fuck off. Craig couldn't count how many messed-up things had happened in South Park because of Stan and his little friends. Monsters, cults, inter-dimensional portals, time/space rifts; Craig had gotten sick of it long ago. And Stan seemed to think it was normal. He and his friends were all crazy bastards.

Sighing, Craig tossed the magazine aside and sat up. His mind wandered back to his last foray in the bedroom with Stan, how their hips rubbed together in delicious friction, how Stan's breathy moans caught in his throat.

He shook his head to get rid of the memory. He was tired, too tired to masturbate and too tired to think of that annoying asshole Stan. He grabbed his pajamas and headed toward the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Ding Dong

Ruby groaned and made her way to the door. If it was that annoying goth kid from her class again, coming to read her poetry about how she had raped his heart, she was gonna kill him.

But, when she opened the door, there stood a tall, thin blonde, holding a bag of guinea pig food in both twitching hands.

"Agh!" he screamed, as if surprised she had actually answered, "um..." he thrust the bag forward, shaking badly, "C-can you give this to Craig? H-he left it at Harbucks..."

"Go give it to that bastard yourself," Ruby snorted, simultaneously opening the door wider to let him in and flicking him off. Tweek stood confused on the doorstep.

"Ack! Why!"

"I'm not talking to him, he ate the last microwave taco. That bitch. He's up in his room, first one to the right. Well, are you coming in or not?"

Tweek yelped and ran inside awkwardly. Ruby shut the door, gave him a stern look, and walked away carelessly. Groaning, Tweek hesitantly made his way to Craig's room.

Craig wiped the water off of his face with a blue terrycloth towel and slung it over the side of the tub. He paused in the mirror, inspecting his face stoically. Once he deemed it flawless, as always, he switched off the light and headed back into his room, tugging at the elastic of his Red Racer pajama bottoms.

He froze when he saw Tweek hovering over his bed, Craig's discarded gay porn mag in his hands. Tweeks long fingers brushed over the glossy abs of some obscure male model.

Craig cleared his throat.

Tweek's head snapped up and he stared at Craig, his eyes huge with worry.

"C-Craig! I just..." he looked at Craig, then back at the magazine, then back at Craig before dropping the magazine like it was a particularly large palmetto bug, "i-it was on your b-bed and...nnghh...I didn't mean to look...but..."

"Well..." Craig said slowly, stalking toward Tweek. Tweek shrank away until his back was against the wall, "now that you know, I'm going to have to kill you."

"AAAH! OH SWEET JESUS NO!"

"Why'd you come here? Came to look through my porn?"

"N-no, oh god no!" Tweek shook his head violently. His eyes flicked to the bag of Nutriphase Organic guinea pig food on the bed, then back up at Craig, "You left that at the shop! Ah! I...I didn't want your guinea pig to go hungry!"

Craig eyed the bag warily, then looked at Tweek, silent for several seconds.

"...thanks. Now get the fuck out."

Tweek gave a small whimper and slipped past Craig, making his way toward the door of the room. Before he reached the entrance, however, he paused and turned to look at his ex-friend.

"Cr-craig...I..I...I'm...imnhghdlft..." he trailed off into an indecipherable mumble.

"What was that?" Craig snapped, becoming more and more annoyed by Tweek ever passing second.

"I...I'm..."

"What, Tweek?"

"AH! I'M GAY TOO! OH GOD!"

And with that, Tweek zipped out the room like a chipmunk on speed. Craig could hear his rapid footsteps as they descended the stairs, heard as the front door slammed shut.

Craig stared at his doorway.

Stan fucking Marsh and Tweek goddamn Tweak. They were the only other queer kids in South Park. They were his choices, if he wanted to get laid, to have a relationship, to fall in love.

Craig flipped himself off before he flopped into bed, because he felt very much screwed.

There will be more actual yaoi in the next chapter...probably. Also, I kinda skipped through the whole "work at Harbucks" thing because I've never worked in a coffee store before, so I don't know what it's like. I've had lots, lots, LOTS of jobs...but never one at a coffee store. Aaanyway. Read and review! I'll try to get the next chapter out soon.