A/N:
I should probably be sure to mention that updates won't always be this fast, but I've been so excited about chapter 2 that I couldn't help it. Thanks for all the kudos and comments so far! I love you guys.
"Never have I ever been to Vegas."
"What!?" Startled, Tweek raises his head from where he is crouched on the floor, immediately losing track of the number of Splenda packets he'd been counting. With a small sigh, he begins gathering up the piles of sweetener scattered around him to throw them all back in the box and start over for the third time.
Kenny leans against the front counter, his back to the nearly empty coffee shop, and repeats, "Never have I ever been to Vegas." He grins down at Tweek expectantly, easily tossing the clipboard he'd been tasked with holding from hand to hand. "Come on, it's been dead in here for the last two hours, and you can't train me on making anything until there's someone to make it for, right?"
Tweek moves to scoop up an armful of Splenda and loses his balance, tipping over onto the black rubber floor mat with an, "Agh!" Scrambling to his feet, he brushes loose Splenda dust and fallen coffee grounds off his clothes and adjusts his white apron before answering Kenny. "I've never been to Vegas! Jesus Christ, that's mafia territory!" He shudders a little bit at the thought.
"Fair enough," Kenny says with a laugh, having witnessed enough Tweek paranoia in school over the years to know not to ask too many questions. He places the clipboard in his hand on top of his shaggy blond hair, balancing it on his head as he stretches his arms towards the ceiling. "Your turn."
They're interrupted by the shrill sound of beeping from behind them; just like a sleeper agent, the noise triggers Tweek into action. Kenny crosses his arms around the clipboard, an amused sparkle in his blue eyes as he watches. He's seen this process happen every half hour since nine o'clock this morning, but Tweek's snap into #1 Barista mode hasn't gotten any less impressive. It's almost like watching something professionally choreographed, like Swan Lake but with caffeine and no swans.
Tweek whirls around, silencing and resetting the timer with three pushes of a button. He grabs one of the two heavy industrial-sized coffee urns that is sitting on the brewer, lifting it like it weighs nothing; though when he leans it carefully on the sink and opens the spout to let it drain, it becomes apparent that the 42-cup urn had been completely full. While the old coffee fills the sink, Tweek, nothing but a blond blur at this point, empties and refills the filter basket with grounds, slipping it back into place on the machine just as the urn finishes draining. He repeats the process with the second urn, finishing just as a second timer goes off.
The timers had been the first thing Tweek had explained to Kenny when he'd started training him this morning. There were five, all set for different intervals depending on what they were for. There was one for brewing coffee, one for changing the sanitizer water, one for switching out steaming pitchers, one for doing a walkthrough of the cafe to make sure it was clean and tidy, and one that was just for Tweek, to remind him to take a second to stop and breathe.
Kenny thought it was a little counterproductive to have a timer startle you into calming down, but again, this was Tweek, and he didn't question the logic.
Once Tweek had gone through the whole routine, which included putting away all the Splenda that had still been scattered on the floor, Kenny says, again, "Your turn. What have you never done?"
Tweek's eyes dart around the café as he thinks. Sundays at his parents' coffee shop aren't usually overly hectic by any means, which was why he'd considered it the perfect day to start Kenny's training. This Sunday in particular, however, was almost painfully slow, so Tweek had decided to get a head start on Monday's weekly inventory count while Kenny manned the register. He was right, there was nothing else to be taught until someone actually came in and ordered something.
In the first three hours of Kenny's first shift, they had already worked through the entire little schedule Tweek had written out on his phone the night before at Token's house, while Clyde and Token had been arguing about their old Keanu Reeves list. The corners of his mouth turn upward slightly, just the hint of a smile on his face as his thoughts drift to his friends.
They've been a group for just about ten years, and it's still anyone's guess as to exactly why or how they've all managed to get, and remain, so close. Each one of them is so different from the rest that it's almost as if they were randomly selected by a music producer to fit stereotypes in a boyband.
There's Tweek, the Shy One: twitchy but not insanely so, much more comfortable at work at the coffee shop or in small groups than anywhere else, and hesitant to speak up and draw attention to himself, keeping certain things – like his weird love of 90s boybands – extremely hidden from the rest of the gang.
Clyde, the Cute One: not stupid per se, but definitely more likely to make a college admissions clerk say, "aww" rather than offer him an academic scholarship, mainly due to his big brown eyes and huge heart, his loyalty to and love for his friends knowing no bounds.
Token, the Older Brother figure: the calming presence, primarily responsible for keeping the group out of trouble – no small feat considering that to do so he has to take into account Tweek's anxiety, Clyde's tendency to unintentionally cause drama by just being Clyde, and, perhaps most importantly, the short fuse of their fourth member.
Craig, the resident Bad Boy: all middle fingers and attitude, completely, perpetually, out of fucks to give.
Of course, everyone knows that all reputable boybands also have the Heartthrob, the number one, the leader and face of the group. The Heartthrob is always the center of attention, in the middle of every group photo and more often than not acts as the official spokesperson in any interview-like situation. With only four members already so well-suited to their roles, it would seem that the only option to round out the group to full boyband status would be to pick up a fifth person somewhere along the way.
Tweek, though, has spent a lot of time thinking about these kinds of things, not just in terms of boybands. One of his favorite things to do is categorize the people he knows, based on everything from colors to blends of coffee to fictional characters; because of this, he feels that he has a very good grasp of who his friends are, and has come to the conclusion that there's a little bit of Heartthrob in all of them. Although, just maybe, a little bit more in one of them in particular.
Craig and Clyde had been friends first, all the way back in preschool. The way Clyde tells it, it all started because at snack time one day Craig had dropped his cup of Goldfish crackers on the floor. Clyde, feeling so bad for him because he was clearly heartbroken at the loss of his snack, had decided that he had to be a hero and fix things. If you ask him, he claims that he had managed to sneak past the teachers into the preschool kitchen, climb up the counter to the highest cupboard, retrieve the bag of Goldfish, and return to his seat, all completely unnoticed. Craig, of course, had been so grateful for Clyde's willingness to risk everything just for him, that he'd immediately claimed Clyde as his Best Friend Forever, and it had been that way ever since.
Craig's version of the story has Clyde being the one to drop his crackers and then burst into tears, sobbing until four-year-old Craig had had enough and just shoved his own cup across the table at him to shut him up. According to Craig, it was at that point that Clyde had started following him around all the time, having decided that Craig's willingness to sacrifice a dollar store cracker snack was the ultimate sign of friendship.
They'd picked Token up somewhere around the beginning of third grade, after getting put together for a creative writing assignment where they were supposed to create their own Mad Lib type of thing. Each group was to write a short story, remove some key words, and then present it to the class, who would be the ones to fill in the blanks.
Clyde wanted to make the story about the class gerbil, Lemmiwinks, to try to score extra points with Mr. Garrison. Craig had, in no uncertain terms, told him that that idea was stupid and that they should write a story about Red Racer because at least that was interesting. They'd argued for a good ten minutes about it until Token, quiet up until that point, had suggested that they write an alternate universe Red Racer story where he gets transformed into a gerbil and has to win a race against a guinea pig in order to be changed back.
Clyde and Craig had shared a look, their ability to communicate nonverbally proof that regardless of whose version of their origin story was the truth, they were best friends. Craig had nodded his approval at Token's suggestion, while Clyde took up another five minutes gushing about how it was the most genius idea he'd ever heard. And thus, they became three.
Tweek's inclusion in the group was perhaps the most surprising, given that it had come about after The Fight, halfway through third grade. Granted, the only reason he and Craig had been beating the hell out of each other in the first place was because they'd been coerced into it, not because of any real animosity between the two of them; but still, becoming best friends with someone you'd punched in the face not twelve hours earlier was not, in Tweek's opinion, the usual way of things.
He had barely ever spoken to not only Craig, but Clyde and Token as well, in the years they'd been in class together; and yet, once he and Craig had been discharged from the hospital, suddenly all three of them were talking to him constantly, picking him for group projects and teams in gym class, and inviting him over to their houses to hang out all the time.
Token had told him that he had the best right hook he'd ever seen. Clyde wouldn't stop talking about moments of The Fight like he was a sports commentator going over replays of game-winning moves. Craig would rarely talk about The Fight itself; Token had theorized that it was because Tweek had been the clear winner and Craig's pride couldn't handle that. Clyde had argued that, actually, Craig had won and he was just too humble to make a big deal out of it.
Token, of course, had needed to counter that with the claim that Craig couldn't be humble if his life depended on it, and then he and Clyde were yelling at each other at the tops of their lungs outside Raisins.
Tweek had been watching them, his eyes wide, convinced that he'd just managed to break up a lifelong friendship by merely existing, when Craig had tapped him on the shoulder and said, loudly, "We'll just have to beat them up to see who does it better, right, Tweek?"
Tweek had only stared at him, not sure if he was serious or not, because Jesus Christ, they'd just gotten out of the hospital, he was covered in scrapes and bruises and Craig's eye was still swollen shut. He wanted to fight again now?
It wasn't until Craig had leaned a little closer, nudged Tweek's shoulder, and grinned, the first time Tweek had ever seen him smile, that he realized he was being facetious.
"Come on," Craig had said, gesturing to the other two, his voice still unreasonably loud to ensure he was overheard by them. "I'll take Clyde, he can't fight for shit."
"Hey!"
And the quartet was officially formed. They'd hang out with other people from time to time, sometimes someone outside the group would make a cameo at one of their weekly movie nights, but they all knew that when it really came down to it, they were each other's best friends for life.
Despite all their differences, despite all logic, really, the four of them had managed to cultivate an unbreakable bond. Tweek, for the first time in his life, had found people he could be himself with, who didn't judge him for the twitches or the outbursts or all of the other reasons he'd felt like such an outcast for so long.
Most of the other reasons. Tweek amends his thought, his small smile fading as a twitch makes his head jerk a little bit to the left. They couldn't judge him for what they didn't know, after all. Having real friends had contributed largely towards improving and building his self-confidence, but he was still Tweek; even without the curse of extreme anxiety, he wasn't the type of person to overshare all of his thoughts and feelings. He wasn't Clyde, who cried at the drop of a hat and said every thought that he had as soon as he had it.
The smile returns as he thinks of something, inspired by the night before; his green eyes brighten and he looks back at Kenny, who still has the clipboard on his head. "Never have I ever seen the end of The Matrix," he says.
"How is that even possible?" Kenny tilts his head questioningly and the clipboard slides off, a few of the papers attached to it fluttering loose as it hits the floor. He leans down to retrieve them. "Isn't that like, Clyde's favorite movie?"
Tweek nods, moving over to the espresso machine and pushing the button for a single shot. He places a shot glass underneath the spout. Over the grinding and grumbling sounds the machine makes, he says, "He makes us watch it at least once a month, but I can never stay awake until the end."
"Getting me on a technicality." Kenny nods approvingly, placing the clipboard and papers onto the counter and coming over to stand beside Tweek at the espresso machine. "Sneaky. I like it."
The shot glass fills with espresso, the sight and smell of the liquid crack making Tweek's mouth water. Resisting the urge to drink it himself, he picks up the shot glass and holds it out to Kenny.
Kenny makes a face. "I don't want that." He uses two fingers to make the sign of a cross and practically shouts, "Away, demon!" A cough from the cafe makes them both look up to see one of the few customers in the shop, one of the Sunday school teachers, looking at them disapprovingly over the top of her coffee mug. Kenny flashes his most charming smile in her direction.
Tweek doesn't relent. "It's Never Have I Ever, isn't it?" His smile turns a little more mischievous and he steps a little closer to Kenny. "Haven't you and Clyde watched The Matrix together?" He knows they have, Clyde had mentioned it last night when he was arguing against having ever even liked Constantine, the movie Token was insisting he'd chosen as the best Keanu movie ever.
"Sure, but –"
Another step. "So you have to do a shot."
"Jesus Christ," Kenny mutters, putting on a really good show of being annoyed but clearly not at all. "When did you get this sassy, Tweek?" He reaches out for the shot glass. "Craig's really rubbed off on you."
A wave of panic washes over Tweek at the words, and an involuntary tremble passes through his whole body. He accidentally drops the shot glass just as Kenny's fingers brush against it. With a yelp, he all but leaps away from the area where it falls, hitting the floor and shattering into tiny pieces. "Jesus Christ!"
Kenny, who had also instinctively backed way the hell away from the shot glass's crash site, lest some weird South Park shit happen and he die that way, says, "Huh." He looks at Tweek thoughtfully.
Tweek is still shaking, and he closes his eyes, trying to shut out the world around him for just a second so he can get some semblance of control over himself. He backs up slowly until he hits the edge of the back counter and curls his fingers around it, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths. Pulling from the list of techniques to come down from a panic attack that he'd been given by his childhood therapist, he imagines that there's a giant mug of steaming hot coffee in front of him. Inhale the scent of coffee, exhale to cool it off. Over and over until he can feel his heart rate start to slow.
The bell above the coffee shop's front door chimes and Kenny gracefully pivots on one foot so he can greet the approaching customer. Or in this case, customers. "Afternoon, hot stuff," he says, winking at Clyde, who is the first to reach the front counter.
Clyde grins, always happy to be complimented no matter where the compliment is coming from. "Hey!" he says as Token and Craig catch up to him. "How's your first day going?"
In answer, Kenny does his best impersonation of a Raisins waitress, adopting a ditzy Valley Girl voice. "Oh my God, everything here is so boring, thank God you guys came in!" Returning to his normal tone, he continues breezily, "Tweek just tried to kill me."
"You probably deserved it," Craig mutters under his breath. He's hanging back behind Clyde and Token, his arms crossed, wanting to be anywhere but inside Tweek Bros. Coffee at the moment. Clyde had insisted they put Operation: Creek into action immediately, and now that they were here, Craig was nervous as fuck. Clyde had promised he'd start him off slow, but Craig was willing to bet Stripe the 13th that Clyde's definition of slow wasn't anywhere close to his own.
Tweek had opened one eye at the mention of his name. "I didn't try to kill you!" He reaches up, pulling on some of his bright blond hair. "Agh!"
Craig shifts in place and does his best to keep his expression blank, but fuck, that was cute.
"Nah, Tweek, I get it," Kenny says with a shrug. "It's like the Highlander of blond coffee peddlers here." He hops into a fighting stance and proclaims, "There can be only one!"
"Ooh, Highlander!" Clyde says, momentarily forgetting the entire reason he'd dragged Craig over to the coffee shop. "Can we watch that next Saturday?"
Token rolls his eyes. "Sure, if you can beat me on our biology quiz this week, we can watch Highlander."
Clyde's face falls. "Wait, what? We have a quiz this week?"
"And that answers your first question." Token raises his hand and waves, the first one of the three to directly acknowledge Tweek. "Hey Tweek, Kenny giving you any trouble?"
Tweek shakes his head. "Do you guys want something?"
He means a drink, of course, but his words bring Clyde back to his task at hand. He lifts a foot, swinging it behind him to lightly tap Craig's leg. "Yeah, actually, we're on our way to Token's but Craig was wondering–" He moves to the side so Craig is no longer hiding behind him. "–what was it, Craig?"
If looks could kill, Clyde Donovan would be but a distant memory. Craig can feel the tingling behind his eyes again and he clenches his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into his palms to chill himself the fuck out and not laser blast Clyde into oblivion. The attention is all on him now, and he doesn't have a fucking clue what he's supposed to say. This was what Clyde called taking it slow?
"Uh," he says, all words of the English language having disappeared from his vocabulary at the moment. He looks up at the menu board on the wall, determinedly not looking at any of his friends – or Kenny, though he can definitely feel all of their eyes on him. His mind is screaming at him to say something, to say anything, and he desperately tries to find a sentence that makes sense. "What – what the fuck – is ristretto mean?" He cringes, both at the halting way his words had come out and the fact that he'd fucked up a word.
Tweek, completely oblivious to Craig's internal struggle and subsequent butchering of his sentence, launches into an explanation of all the different types of espresso shots. Craig lowers his eyes to watch Tweek as he listens, more to the way Tweek says the words than the actual words themselves; when Tweek talks about coffee, he's in his element, he's happy, and it shows. There are few things that can compare to a happy Tweek, in Craig's expert opinion.
Clyde nudges Craig with his elbow, and Craig tears his gaze away from Tweek to look at him, a little bit less death-threat to his glare than before, but not much. Clyde is beaming at him, and he motions for Craig to move closer. Reluctantly, Craig obliges and Clyde whispers, "I totally see it now!"
Gritting his teeth, Craig whispers back, "What the fuck were you trying to do?"
Tweek, in the middle of the definition of macchiato, sees the two of them whispering in each other's ears and stops mid-sentence, completely losing his train of thought. His eye twitches, and a small growl, an "rrghh!" sound, escapes his lips. He unconsciously tugs on the bottom of his apron.
"Wait, don't stop there," Kenny says, making a show of looking disappointed. He hops up to sit on the counter, leaning against the display case of pastries. "I was learning Italian!"
"Still trying to impress Ferrari?" Token, ever the observant one, asks, in order to put all the attention on Kenny and away from Clyde and Craig who are both acting like idiots.
"Dude, she finally agreed to go to the movies with me tonight!" Kenny says eagerly. "I figure if I can learn to speak her language she'll fall in love with me like that!" He snaps his fingers.
"You know she's not actually Italian, right?" Token points out. "Her family's from like, Nebraska or some shit."
"Kansas," Clyde says confidently, having paid attention as soon as the conversation had turned to one of his favorite Raisins girls.
"What the fuck do they speak in Kansas?" Kenny asks, speaking again before anyone can offer an answer. "Whatever, I'll just have to up the charm level." He does the fluttery eyelash thing again and blows a kiss to the trio in front of the counter. "Who can resist me?"
Token starts counting on his fingers. "Bebe, Wendy, me, Stan, Lola –"
"–Christophe!" Clyde adds enthusiastically, proud of himself for contributing.
Kenny holds up both hands, palms facing outward. "Okay, fine, leave me with some of my pride, Jesus." He shoots a grin in Tweek's direction. "Tweek, your friends are such dicks."
The beep of a timer rescues Tweek from having to confirm or deny the accusation, and he begins the coffee shop ballet again as the rest of his friends continue talking.
"What movie are you taking Ferrari to?" Clyde wanders over to the pastry case and looks inside, his stomach growling. "We should all go to Raisins when you guys are done work."
"Some Ben Affleck shit, I don't know," Kenny says. "I let her pick. It starts at seven I think."
"You close at five, right?" Clyde calls to Tweek as the latter rushes by carrying the bucket of sanitizer water to the back room.
"Five on Sundays, nine every other day," Craig says from behind Clyde.
"Sweet." When Tweek emerges from the back, Clyde says, "Tweek! We're going to Raisins when you're done, okay?"
"On a Sunday?!" Tweek stops, the clean water in the bucket he's holding sloshing over the sides and spilling all over the legs of his pants and his shoes. "Agh!" He jumps, which only causes the same thing to happen again.
Craig has to pretend to yawn so he can smile behind his hand.
"Kenny needs us to help him impress Ferrari," Token says by way of explanation before Clyde can offer a ridiculous reason as to why they need to go to Raisins tonight.
"Oh, Christ, that's so much pressure!" Tweek lifts the bucket of water onto the counter and resets the timer.
"No, you just have to talk me up!" Kenny says, totally on board with this idea. "Just tell her all about how awesome I am, hell, maybe even let me flirt with you a little." He raises his eyebrows suggestively at Tweek. "We can make her jealous."
Tweek lets out a, "Waghh!" at the thought, and Craig puts his hand behind his back, unable to resist the sudden urge to flip off Kenny but having the presence of mind to hide it.
"Okay, well, we should let you guys actually work, then," Clyde says, having accomplished the first phase of his genius plan. "We'll meet you back here around five."
Kenny salutes the three of them. "Aye aye!"
"You probably shouldn't speak pirate around her either," Token advises as he, Clyde, and Craig head towards the exit.
"Noted." Kenny mimes writing something in the air with an imaginary pen.
As soon as the door falls shut behind Tweek's trio of friends, he begins cleaning up the fallen shards of shot glass, being careful not to cut himself and bleed all over the floor. Kenny hops off the countertop and saunters over to where Tweek is kneeling. If Tweek was looking up, he'd see the devilish grin on Kenny's face.
"So, it's my turn, right?" he says.
"Huh?! Oh," Tweek says, remembering that they'd been playing a game. He picks up the biggest piece of shot glass gingerly, like it's going to sprout teeth and bite him.
"Never have I ever…" Kenny pauses, drawing out the last word and waiting until Tweek makes eye contact with him before finishing. "...been in love with Craig fucking Tucker."
Tweek's heart stops for a good ten seconds before resuming beating so quickly it feels like one continuous vibration. His eyes widen, and as much as he wants to look away, he's frozen in place. "Guh!" he squeaks, the only sound he can make at the moment.
"Don't worry," Kenny says, shaking his head and sitting down across from Tweek on the floor. "What, you think I'm going to judge you? Kyle Broflovski was my first boyfriend for fuck's sake." He reaches down and starts picking up smaller pieces of shot glass.
Tweek blinks furiously, looking down and trying to process his current situation. His hand trembles and he closes his fingers around the broken chunk of glass without thinking, the jagged edge digging into his skin. "Jesus!"
"Careful," Kenny says, both concern and amusement in his eyes. "Craig'll be pissed at me if they show up later and you're injured."
Tweek whips his head up. "What do you mean?!" His voice is rising dangerously in volume and he fights hard to calm down. Inhale the scent of coffee, exhale to cool off the coffee. The panic attack threatening to consume him right now is like none other he's ever felt, and of course it's not – hearing his biggest secret, the thing he has been fighting so hard to keep secret for the last six years, spoken out loud has pushed some sort of big red internal panic button. His short-term memory glitching like a broken video game, he completely forgets his first question and wails, "Oh God, you're not going to tell him are you?!"
"Tweek," Kenny says, reaching out to touch Tweek's shoulder. "Breathe, Jesus Christ. I'm an asshole but I'm not that kind of asshole." He smiles, encouragingly, and adds, "You should, though."
Tweek gulps down a lungful of air before staring at Kenny aghast. "I can't do that!"
"Sure you can!" Kenny says. "It's easy! Way easier since he already likes you too."
"What?!"
"Oh," Kenny says innocently, the sparkle in his eyes brightening. "Did you not know?"
Tweek covers his eyes with both hands and shakes his head, blond hair flying. "No! He doesn't! He can't!"
"Yes, he does, he absolutely can," Kenny replies. "It's a good thing you've got me in your corner, Christ, Tweek, don't you notice anything?"
Peeking through his fingers, Tweek says, voice muffled, "In my corner?"
Kenny nods, getting to his feet and executing a ridiculous-looking low bow. "Kenny McCormick, at your service," he says. "Matchmaker extraordinaire, here to help you get into Craig's pants, assuming, of course, that's where you want to be."
Behind his hands, Tweek blinks again. The thing about Kenny, the thing he'd learned forever and half ago, was that though he was often much more dramatic than he needed to be, he was very rarely wrong. The gears in Tweek's brain turn wildly, running through all the possible scenarios that could happen if he accepted Kenny's offer. If Kenny was wrong, he would lose Craig as a friend, and probably Clyde, and Token soon after that. If Kenny was wrong, Tweek would be shoved right back into the land of the outcasts.
But, Tweek thinks, his heart pounding in his chest, if Kenny was right…
"Oh, Jesus," he mumbles, making a decision and praying to whatever God was out there that it was the right one. Looking up at Kenny, he swallows nervously and says, voice shaky but sure, "What do I have to do?"
Top Ten Best Keanu Reeves Movies
1. Constantine*
2. The Matrix
3. John Wick
4. Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure
5. John Wick 2
6. Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey
7. Speed
8. Point Break
9. Johnny Mnemonic
10. Dracula
* only because Clyde bawled for 15 minutes about it like a baby
