A/N: I got the idea for this yesterday while I was sitting on the bus, dying of boredom. Forgive the random words- it's so short, it practically doesn't deserve to be called a fic, but I liked it, and the Butters/Bradley and Creek is coming really slowly. Although I might post some tonight... I've had a lot of it written and just haven't been posting because it's still in rewrite stages. So here's something to, erm, tide you over? More like make me feel less guilty for not posting anything. Happy readings,
Luna
Craig watched his boyfriend in the dark cafe. Tweek looked like an angel in the dim lighting, frantically playing the guitar in his arms. He played for the shop three nights a week- it calmed him, Craig noticed. All his energy went into the frenzied playing, and he hardly broke into a sweat.
It was no rock and roll. Wasn't folk, either. It was deep, elegant, complicated improvisation on an acoustic guitar- every twitch of Tweek's fingers hit just the right note at just the right time. He almost looked like an insect, perched on his stool to the side of the stage. Craig remembered how he had refused to play on the actual stage, claiming it was "too much pressure" when everyone was staring at him. So the owner had given him a stool and a guitar, and told him, "Here, kid, knock yourself out." Craig had paid the medical bill, but he'd refused to replace the guitar.
And finally, after much arguing between the owner and Craig, and much rocking in the fetal position on Tweek's part, the owner had agreed to let Tweek play at the cafe three nights a week for five dollars an hour and free coffee. Craig had pushed for more, but this was Tweek's gig, and Tweek had stopped listening after "free coffee."
After the number, there was a smattering of applause. Tweek jumped and shrieked, "Ah! They heard me!" This was Craig's cue to rush forward.
"Sh, Tweekie, it's okay, I'm here," he said, careful to approach from the front so as not to alarm his spastic boyfriend. He wrapped his arms around the small, twitching frame and whispered, "You were amazing."
"You heard me too! Now I'm embarrassed," he muttered, grinding his teeth and pulling at his hair.
Craig held Tweek at arm's length and looked him in the eyes. "Tweek, this is your job," he explained for what felt like the fifteenth time that week. "You agreed to this, remember? They're supposed to hear you, stupid." He said this with affection- he would never truly insult his boyfriend. "They're supposed to listen to you play, and then you get five dollars for every hour you played and free coffee."
"Free coffee! Where?!"
Craig sighed and gestured to one of the baristas. "Can we get some coffee over here?"
