This is a side Michael, Tweek Fic. My stories tend to be really weird because i love crack pairings that literally make no sense. This will just be a side story that i'll be working on while i work on my main Tweek, Bradley Biggle Fic. Hope you enjoy.
He didn't know what to do with his life he was going to graduate this year and what had he accomplished; nothing that's what, absolutely nothing. He had been on this planet for 18 years and he had nothing to show for it. He hadn't even had a job in his whole life, and now his parents were forcing to get one, so he would get a taste of what the real world is like.
Fuck that he thought to himself, he didn't want to be some faggy conformist loser bending to society's whims, but the boy had to be realistic, if he was to survive in this cruel world he would eventually have to swallow his pride, and get some sort soul crushing employment to support his meager existence. After all it only was going to get harder after graduation. At least if he got into the work force now he wouldn't be forced to fallow societies rules, and have to go to some stupid collage just to be another mindless sheep fallowing the heard.
...
"So I heard you're mom made you get a job", the boy with the long fringe of raven black hair dyed red at the roots retorted.
He inhales a deep breath from his cigarette blowing out a thick plume of billowing smoke at his curly haired friend, carelessly flipping the fringe of his hair in a nonchalant manner.
"Yeah Pete this really sucks, I'm gonna be some stupid conformist wannabe".
Pete stares back at his cynical companion grinding the end of his cigg into the hard payment with the toe of his black worn steel toe boot.
"Mike do you even know were you're going to be working", Pete comments toying with his metal stud at the corner of his bottom lip, as he licks his chapped dry mouth,and flips his hair once again.
Michael rolls his eyes, "Well I got a job at Tweek Bros., and at least it's not some crappy conformist operation who sold their soul to corporate greed like Harbuck's."
Pete nods his head in silent agreement to his friend as he messes with the chain on his baggy denim jeans.
"Well man I gotta go, it's my first day, and my shift starts in like an hour".
Without a second thought Michele stamps out his cigarette, and waves his friend goodbye striding out of the abandoned school parking lot, on his way home to change into his conformist uniform.
It was a sweltering summer day as the Goth boy strode home, he liked walking home; sure he could of driven back in his black beat up pickup, but walking gave him time to think, time to ponder over his life. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his palm, shiny black nail polish glistening in the hot sun, droplets of salty perspiration flinging off his fingertips, and on to the cracked hot asphalt which sizzled evaporating on contact with the searing hot surface.
Sometimes he hated being Goth because his dreary black clothing would soak up the heat like a sponge almost giving him heat stroke on unusually hot summer days like these. He squints his eyes, and he can make out his boring looking home in the distance. He loathed this house so much it was just like all the other cookie cutter houses in South Park. He always wanted to redecorated it, but his family let's just say didn't care for his taste in decor; what did they about the fine art of decor though anyways.
How he dreaded having to come home every day, if he could he'd crash at Pete's or Henrietta's place every night. There he stood at his front door staring at pealing crème white paint. Taking a shaky breath he pulls down all his fear, and anxiety into the pit of his stomach, as trembling hands grasps the doorknob.
Michael twirls an ebony black truss of curly hair around his finger, praying to a god he didn't believe in that, that woman wouldn't be there, but just like always when you want something to happen the complete opposite transpires. Just like clockwork as soon as he steps through that front door he is meet with the cold hatred gaze of his step mother. Her mean eyes bore into his as she slaps him hard across the face.
"What's wrong with you? You have to go to work in twenty minutes. After all your father and I have done for you to get you this job, you better not ruin this for us. You know were good friends with the Tweak's. I bet you been smoking with those no good friends of yours again haven't you."
Michael only looks down at his scuffed leather boots rubbing his red swollen cheek, he doesn't say a word knowing whatever he says will simply be twisted into a venomous lie that his father will eat up. Why did his mom have die, he loved her with all his heart, she was the only person he could look up to.
He could still remember her sweet voice her beautiful frizzy black hair, she use to tell him he could do anything he put his mind to. She been gone so long Michael has almost completely forgotten her sweet voice, just like his hope. Ever since she died his father has been no help, he just ignores him like he doesn't even exist, and simply plays along with the bitch's abuse like he's too much of a coward to stand up for his only son.
Slipping off his boots Michael passes the cold heartless woman who he's come to know as his new mother without uttering a single word, and patiently makes his way up the staircase clutching fiercely onto the banister on his way up, knuckles turning white from the sheer force of his death grip. Once at the top of the hallway he grabs his uniform that's hung neatly on a wire hanger in his bedroom closet, and briskly go's into the bathroom to get ready for a section of mindless boredom.
As soon as the tall boy gets a good look at himself in the reflective surface of the bathroom mirror he winces back in hesitation. He knew his mother's strike had hurt more than usual. Right there across his face was a small gash from his mother's ring, it was already starting to swell. Fuck he wasn't allowed to wear makeup to work, and his cheek was already starting to bruise; well he could always lie about it if anyone asked any questions. But no one ever asked him anything, nobody except his friends and even if they asked he'd lie; he wasn't about to tell them his slutty step mom bitch slapped him.
Turning on the spigot a steady stream of cool water starts to flow as he drenches his sweaty face in the pool of cool water, it fells refreshing against his hot sticky skin. Reaching up above him to the bathroom cabinet behind the mirror he feels around for the makeup remover pads, once said pad is in his hand he begins scrubbing vigorously at the heavy black mascara under his eyelids. After a session of intense scrubbing his face is free from all traces of pale white cosmetic leaving his face raw and chapped. At least the swelling has gone down a bit, but he still certainly looks like crap.
He sure looks like shit without his makeup on, no wonder no one would date him, what girl in their right mind would date him. He's spindly and lanky with a long nose and frizzy hair reminiscent to Kyle Broflovski, but even Kyle was more appealing than him ,at least Kyle didn't have acne scares all-over his upper arms and forehead; sure he wasn't that bad to look at, but he wasn't winning any beauty contests. Drying off his face with a nearby towel Michael sheds his Gothic clothing and replaces them with a mint green polo, and a pair of coffee colored khakis along with a plain white apron with the Tweek Bros logo embroidered on the front. Good he still had 15 minutes to spare; witch was a good thing too because Tweek Bros was only a five minute walk from his house.
...
There he was, gleaming glass, metallic trim reflecting his image back at him as he stares at the transparent portal. This was it, his first experience with soul crushing remedial labor. It was now or never, so Michael grips the handle with a an uneasy grip stepping inside the small shop as the little bell chimes above the entrance announcing his presents to whomever was inside. Once indoors he notices there behind the counter is a tall man with a short bob of hazelnut hair very reminiscent to his own. The man has a long slender nose, and wears a simple brow cardigan. He gives Michele a warm greeting as he dusts the palms of his hands on his slacks.
"Well hello there you must be Michael your early I like that. Oh where are my manners I'm Mr. Tweak".
Michael rubs the back of his neck and smiles awkwardly; he never was too good at dealing with authority figures.
"Well then son let's get started. Tweek could you come out here please", Michael's new boss calls out.
A few seconds pass and then a gangly pale looking boy comes stumbling out from the back room, he trips on his untied shoelaces, and smacks his face hard against the granite counter top of the front desk tumbling backwards, and falling flat on his ass against the hard cold linoleum floor.
"GAH, he screams frantically while clutching his nose in searing pain.
Michael thinks to himself don't be an asshole, don't be an asshole you have to make a good first impression, you don't want to be fired the very first day. Michael rushes over to the frail boy's side, and helps him up as the quivering boy grasps the hand extended before him. Once the kid is on his feet Michael can finally get a good look at the guy. Michael can see the poor kids face is bright red from the impact, and small trickles of blood dip down from his nose in small droplets.
The crazy looking guy has wild blonde hair that juts out in every possible direction in an unorganized fashion; it looks like he just got out of bed or something. The kids face is peppered with freckles, and he has deep caramel colored eyes that extenuate his pale white skin with how large they seem to be for his face, he also seems to be shaking like crazy like he's suffering from some sort of seizure. To Michael he's the most unique person he's ever seen, and that's saying a lot because almost everyone in South Park is a boring conformist loser. There was just something about the poor kids crumpled appearance that made Michael feel sorry for him, so that's why Michael took it upon himself to grab a nearby tablecloth that was resting on the counter, and gently he stared wiping the small trickles of blood from under the spastic boys nose. As soon as the blonde saw the bright red crimson liquid on the pure white cloth he screamed in terror lacing his hands in his hair, and started pulling vigorously at his wheat blond locks.
"Oh god blood, I'm bleeding I'm gonna bleed to death, oh Jesus Christ man".
Before Michael could even open his mouth to try and console the kid Mr. Tweak comes over and starts to rub the boys bony back. The guys hitched erratic breathing begins to stabilize under the man's touch.
"Now son we talked about this you have to be more careful. You can't just come running out here without looking were you're going. Now remember your breathing exercise everything will be fine."
Once the boy seems to be back to normal; well normal enough for him anyways Mr. Tweek turns his attention to Michael.
"Well this is my son Tweek, he can be a bit odd, but he'll grow on you. He'll be in charge of showing you how everything is done around here".
"GAH NO THAT'S TO MUCH PRESSURE MAN", Tweek suddenly shouts out.
"Son it I'll be fine we talked about this, this morning. Now if anything goes wrong I'll be in the back okay"?
With that the man disappears into his office seemingly unphased by his son's nervous breakdown, it's not to say that he didn't seem to care about his son because he did. It just seemed he was a bit annoyed with him; I'm sure it must have been stressful on the man to deal with a person like that on a regular basis.
"So your name is Tweek that's an interesting name", Michael starts to address his co-worker.
Tweek is so startled by the comment yet again he stumbles on his shoelaces as a takes a step back, but Michael sees it coming this time and grabs the boys quivering wrist caching him before he falls on his ass again.
"We have to do something about those shoelaces", Michael kneels down and begins lacing the blondes untied shoelaces of his red converses, Tweek's legs begin to wobble and bend together uncontrollably as he does so. "There all done now ,now you won't trip".
"Narg thanks", Tweek begins to blush. "Um my names not interesting it's just weird, Tweek responds with a tremor that wracks through his entire body.
"Um a weird name for an interesting person".
"W-what you think I'm interesting, nobody's ever called me that before".
"Well of course I think you're interesting why I would say something I didn't mean. I not some conformist who only says something to be nice or to suck up to the boss's son, if I say something Tweek you can always be guaranteed it's going to be the truth."
"Ah Jesus at least you're honest, err you sound really familiar do I know you"?
"Oh that's right you might not recognize me without the makeup, but I'm Michael you know the leader of the Goths".
With that statement Tweek looked like he was going to have a heart attack. He crunched his eyelids shut threading his fingertips through his long mousy hair, and leap under a table on the far side of the shop huddling against it while wrapping his long arms around the legs of a chair. Michael sighed as he slowly approached Tweek, and crouched down to look into the kids eyes, and to remove his hands from his hair.
"Tweek I'm not going to hurt you, Goths my look a little scary but were not so bad once you get to know us".
Tweek opened his eyes, and removed his entangled hands from his golden hair, and wiped away the tears from his red rimmed eyes with the hem of his apron.
"Really you won't eat me", the small shivering boy said as more tears flooded his eyes.
"Of course not I think you got the Goths confused with those faggy vamp emo posers".
Tweek accepts Michael's hand once again as the Goth boy helps the little blonde up off his feet, and with that the blonde gives the curly haired kid a small smile.
"Gah err w-why did you want to work here man", Tweek shots out a little too loud and covers his mouth with his hands.
Michael stops to think for a moment he didn't want to tell Tweek he's only working here because his parents were forcing him to.
"Well I guess I want to work here because I really respect your parents for not selling out to Harbucks, and on top of that I love coffee".
"Gah me too, Tweek smiles seeming completely elated that his co-worker, and him have something in common.
"Um what type of coffee do you like"?
"Anything sweet", Michael responded as Tweek looks at him strangely.
"Hey come on don't look at me like that, look just because I'm Goth doesn't mean I can't like sweet things. I'm not gloomy and depressed cutting myself like what people think a stereotypical Goth is".
Tweek cringes at that last stamen he never thought that Goth's could like sweet things, but it made him happy on the inside that maybe Michael wasn't such a scary guy after all.
As the rest of the day when by Tweek showed Michael how to do everything around the shop from how to operate the espresso machine, to restocking the cups when they ran out, wiping down tables when business was slow, and all the little remedial tasks that a job as barista inquired. Michael liked working with Tweek he seemed like a really cool guy, he didn't understand why people thought he was weird, and didn't want to hang around him very much. He even though Tweek was a little cute for a guy anyways, but of course he would never tell Tweek that he's sure he wouldn't appreciate being told that from another guy. Tweek seemed to really relax with Michael there working beside him. He wasn't nearly as nervous as he usually was. It had been a pretty slow day, they only had a dozen or so customers.
"Ah now I remember where I've seen you before Tweek. You're friends with that Tucker kid right"? Michael absentmindedly calls out while leaning against the counter top picking at his black nail polish. Suddenly Tweek's eyes became very sad, and forlorn as he takes a seat at an empty table, and looks down at his feet.
"I use to hang out with Craig, but he said he didn't want me around anymore, narg h-he said I had too many problems, and he was sick of babysitting me".
Michael leaves his spot from behind the counter, and slowly walks over to Tweek. He places his hand under Tweek's chin, and gently raises he's head so he's forced to look into Michael's deep dark brown eyes.
"Hey, hey don't put yourself down like that, its Craig's loss if he doesn't want to hang out with such a cool person", Michele gives Tweek a little gloomy smile while tousling the blonde's mussy hair.
Tweek's eyes begin to water as he looks up at Michael. The shivering little teen shoots up from his seat, and wraps his long frail arms around Michael's shoulders. The Goth boy winces back a slight bit he's not quite comfortable being touched it's just feels awkward to him, but he swallows this strange feeling in the pit of his stomach not wanting to hurt the blondes feelings or to patronize him by patting his back, and saying there, there. That's the last thing Tweek needs right now,he already seems to have a low self-esteem, and belittling him will only make it worse. Tweek has his face buried in Michael's chest his messy spiky hair sticking out sporadically tickling Michael's cheek bringing shivers down the boy's spine. Tweek hiccups and sniffles as he struggles to hold back murmured sobs. Finally he removes himself from the frizzy haired Michael's apron, tears streaming down his face.
"Gah I'm so sorry it's just nobody's ever been so nice to me… please don't think I'm weird please don't hate me".
"Tweek I could never think your weird I already told you that. It's okay to cry I know how it feels to be lonely, like nobody cares about you".
"Um do… you think we could m-maybe, I mean only if you want to, hangout".
Michael reaches into the front pocket of his apron, and pulls out a notepad of black paper, and with a white gel pen he scribbles something on to the page tearing it out, and handing it to Tweek.
"It's my number if you ever need to talk or anything just call, you can call me anytime if you need someone to talk too or hang out.
"Narg okay"
Tweek seemed so happy he was basically jumping for joy. Michael had never seen someone so happy before he had the biggest goofiest grin on his face that could make even the gloomiest of people smile Michael being no exception.
It was finally closing time; the time went by surprisingly quickly with Tweek working by his side. He waved his new friend good buy with a smile that was so uncharacteristic for him.
"See you tomorrow Tweek"
"Gah um bye see you tomorrow man".
With that he left the shop as the small bell chimed, unbeknownst to him an ominous Craig Trucker lurked in the shadows gritting his teeth at the new found affection that Tweek shared with the tall Goth boy.