Author's Note; I've recently fallen in love with crack pairings; I hope this to be the first of many twamien stories.
Tweek walked slowly down the street, wincing at the cold air that bit at his skin. He paused and tilted his head to the side. The softest of sobs was barely audible. The blonde frowned and walked faster, trying to find the source of the noise. Damien Thorne, antichrist extraordinaire, was leaning against a wall, face in hands. His shoulders shook and Tweek's eyes widened as he realized the tough as nails boy was crying. "Damien?" he squeaked worriedly "is something wrong?" the antichrist looked up, fingers ready to snap whoever dared to bother him to ashes. Instead of a jeering classmate, he found a concerned looking spaz.
"I'm sorry," Tweek yelped as Damien stared at him "but you looked upset and GAH! Are you okay?" he gasped in one breath
Damien shrugged and in a monotone "My mom died." Tweek gasped again and shook his head slowly.
"I'm so sorry," he cried mournfully. Damien shrugged.
"I know she was not anything but a random nun chosen to carry me so my father could have an heir but…" Damien shrugged and tears continued to run down his cheeks. "She was kind…I believe somewhere between the six years I knew her she really grew to love me." Tweek was crying now, shuddering while his shoulders heaved. "So," the antichrist drawled bitterly "I suppose you're going to run off now, tell your little friends that the all-powerful Damien is crying." He rested his head against his knees and took a deep breath, waiting for the rapid footsteps that signified the blonde running away.
Instead Tweek dropped to his knees. "You know what I think?" he asked quietly, wiping away his tears. Damien looked up. "I think you need a hug." The shivering boy wrapped his arms around Damien and pulled him close. He expected to be pushed away, burnt to a crisp. But instead, he was pulled closer, and, to Tweek's surprise, the burning warmth of the antichrist's body was comfortable instead of painful while the ashy wood smell of cedar and oak seemed homey and gave him a sense of security.
Same went for Damien. Tweek smelt of coffee and vanilla, a pure, sweet scent that he breathed in hungrily. The innocence of the blonde was refreshing, like a cool drink after a long run. After being drowned in the hormones and pheromones of his peers for so long, Damien was surprised he hadn't lost his scent of smell.
"It's okay," Tweek soothed and began to stroke the black hair that fell into his eyes. "I won't tell anyone. I promise." Damien looked down, tears of blood still running down his face. Tweek's face was sincere, caring. "Your secret's safe with me." Damien hesitated before nodding silently.
Neither of them were sure how long they sat there, wrapped up in each other. All that mattered was being there, being with each other. It would take them a while before they finally figured out exactly what that feeling of completeness meant, but for now, they would sit, breathing in each other's scents, secretly basking in the sense of security, of completeness. So they sat, together in the back of the alleyway completely unaware that this small act would tie them together in ways neither could imagine.