It had been days, really. Days since Craig had brought the idea of even facing this fear and trying to fight this battle into his little head. But to Tweek, it seemed like months. He was filled with paranoia, different then the kind he would get when he was eight that revolved around gnomes and disappearing underwear and how the two were connected.

That's not to say he didn't still think about just where that one really nice pair went to, but he tried not to focus on it so much.

But the paranoia he'd had more recently went more along the lines of trying to brush his hair down, buttoning his shirt right, and not twitching so much when he sat in the office of the man who he soon hoped would be his boss. He wasn't too successful.

"So," the stout, executive-type man said as he fell into his comfy looking chair. "You want t' work here, eh?"

Tweek flushed, considering what an understatement it was, and resisted the urge to jump up out of his plastic chair, scream about it being too much pressure, and running like hell.

"Yessir." He said very quickly and hoped that there wouldn't be a written test. He hated tests, he usually ended up snapping his pencil from gripping it so hard.

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm." The man said, looking thoughtful as he rubbed a three-day-beard. Every muscle in Tweek's body tightened, preparing for a horrible defeat.

"Ok." The man said evenly and stood up again. Tweek blinked, confused, and then remembered that he was supposed to shake hands. After he did, he also remembered that he just got his dream job.

"OhmigodareyouseriousthisisAWESOME!" He shook the man's hand more excitedly and smiled all over. The man looked bored with this, and took back his hand.

"Be here Saturday, at 7 o' clock. That's when the creepy, nocturnal pill-popper gets off his shift." Tweek still couldn't believe and had no words left in him. He nodded so fast he thought his head would pop right off, which made him immediately stop. He took a breath and remembered what he was told to say, leaving out the cocky sarcasm,

"Thank you very much, sir."

And he got the door slammed in his face. He stared a minute, still smiling, with his eyes going over the words, 'Manager's Office' ten times without processing them. Then, he turned round and walked by the counter he would soon be standing at without giving it a second glance. He still had things to do.

But just before he walked out the door, he grabbed a green apron and a blank I.D. pin. Swiftly, he pulled out his Sharpie and wrote in his scribbled handwriting, 'Tweek Tweak'. And even though only one person would be able to read it, it still felt right like that.

Then he rushed to that person's house, in that person's father's truck, to tell him the news. He repeated the words in his head and a few times mouthing it while he shook with an amazing source of raw, anxious energy.

'I'm working at Starbucks now.'

---

Tweek was later hanging off the couch, upside-down, with his shirt pulled halfway up, being kissed by the boy who was the source of all his happiness.

Craig let up on Tweek's already overly abused lips and grinned at him upside down.

"I still can't believe I pulled it off." Said Tweek as his fingers twitched on the floor. He smiled proudly, which would look nervous to anyone else.

"God, Tweek. I can tell. You're still shaking like crazy. And you're pink like nothing else." He cocked an eyebrow.

Tweek grinned back. "And what makes you think that's just from getting the best job ever?"

Craig had a quick comeback. "Because I haven't even gotten all of your shirt off." His hands moved up to drum on Tweek's belly, making the tiny blond giggle in a very not-manly way. "I told you that you could totally nail this job." Which only made Tweek smile more.

"What should we do to celebrate? I don't start work 'til Saturday, so we have a few days to just waste time still." He playfully brought up one of his hands to pull Craig closer by the front of his shirt.

Craig grinned, the kind of grin that anyone could tell had dirty things behind it. "Aw, man. So much to do, so little time. But I guess we could just… Hmm, go at it non-stop like wild animals." Craig had gotten better and better at thinking of things to say.

"Non-stop, you say? Like wild animals, you say? Weeeeelllllll, I don't know… I should really check my calendar to see if there are any activities I may need to do in the daylight." Tweek had gotten better at putting out full sentences that had no up and down on the pitch of his voice.

"Aw, you can just cancel any of those over the phone during a water break." Craig offered, wiggling his eyebrows to convince the other.

Tweek seemed to still be thinking it over. Then he shrugged, which was a bad idea considering his position, and just made him slide down some, and said, "Ok, then".

With that answer to say everything was consensual and legal, Craig gave Tweek a victory smooch just before the boy slid all the way off the sofa and knocked Craig over.

---

Craig had stuck to his word. They both spent the next two days in Craig's room with muffled noises that would have been heard coming through the walls, but luckily Craig's family were visiting some relative or another, and he had very conveniently come down with the flu. The only conversations that didn't revolve around things that could NEVER be on public television were Craig and his mother's over the phone conversations that made up of half of the breaks Tweek and Craig had. They went like this to what Tweek heard:

"Hey mom." Fake cough. "Yeah, still sick. Oh yea, fever of 99.9. No, you don't need to come home. Really. Yes, really. REALLY mom. I'm fine. Yeah. Yeah, I know there's chicken soup in the pantry. Ok. Say hi to everyone for me. Bye."

And then:

"Hello? Yeah, uh, I probably do sound funny. It's a… sore throat. Yeah, I know where the cough syrup is. No, I wont take too much. No mom, I haven't used cough syrup to get high since I was nine, ok? Yeah. No, it's ok. No, just have a good time over there in… in… wherever you guys are. Ok, see you Sunday. Bye mom."

And then:

"YEAH MOM?? No, mom, I'm ok. Yeah, still the sore throat. No, it's not strip. Mom, I got to go, I, uh, I'm about to puke. …Yeah, I'll warm up the chicken in the fridge for dinner. No, I'm not going to be another one of those anorexic-Waitaminute, mom. Tweek is NOT bulimic. I would just KNOW, ok? Yeah. Ok. Bye."

Each time Craig's mom called, Tweek used the time to get up, pull on whatever pair of pants was closest to him, and get them both some water and Ritz crackers.

This pattern went on until Friday, when just after Tweek came back with the water and was about to unzip Craig's jeans he's picked up.

First he looked at Craig who was trying to convince his mom that his Aunt so and so needed them all to be there a few days longer and that he should be quarantined in the house, alone. Then his gaze traveled down to the disarray for sheets and blankets on the bed (and off the bed). With a beat of white noise in his head, Tweek very unsuccessfully tried not to scream out.

Craig jumped up in his spot on the bed, and then quickly rebounded with his mom by saying he sneezed and yes, it did sound like a shrill scream when he sneezed. Then he came up with some excuse and hung up the phone.

"What the hell?" He said to Tweek who was trying to gather himself off the floor.

"Th-th-th-the BED. The bed, oh god, the bed." Craig blinked and looked at the bed, assuming there would be something horrible and vile there by the way Tweek sounded. Alas, it was just a very, very messy bed.

"It's sooooo disgusting. All the sweat and the breath and the GERMS and the dead skin and oh my GOD." Tweek was taken over with violent shaking, which he tried to regain control.

Craig, once again, seemed unfazed and merely blinked. After a few seconds, he got up, pulled on some pants, and threw Tweek a shirt.

"C'mon, we'll go to your house for the remainder of our sex-fest. Plus we can have a shower before we go at it again."

---