Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, or it's characters.

Warning: Graphic Language

Chapter Two: The Worst Coffee House

The sounds of cars passing on the street filter through the door every time another customer walks in. It's distracting and starting to piss me off. If it wasn't bad enough that I had to make what felt like a hundred Cafe Mochas (with soy) an hour, I have to listen to the damn door chime ring every time the thing opens or closes.

I ring up another order, my voice clipped and dead. I miss the radio show, and how I could say anything I wanted to, to the assholes I had to deal with. It was one of the worst jobs I've ever had, with the worst pay I've ever gotten. But it gave me a sense of self, where as Coffeh Coffeh Conniption just made me feel oh so very dead inside.

"Two Cafe Mochas, one Toasty Marshmallow Cutie and a cream puff." A tiny piece of what is left of my soul has just died.

Conniption has several people working at once, because the cafe is located in a prime shopping district, which is in the center of an office district. The opening hour and the lunch hour are the busiest times of day. I work the noon shift, so I come in just before the dreaded lunch hour.

Did I mention I have to wear a pink apron?

I fucking hate pink.

I'm working the register as a coworker named Wendy Testaburger runs around flippantly making drinks with the other girl, Bebe Stevens. Clyde Donovan, a long time acquaintance, manages the place. Which means he sits on his ass and watches everyone else do the work.

I haven't been working this shift long. I used to run the evening shift because of the late hours with the radio show, but when I no longer had to stay up all night with it, I was able to work at a normal time.

"Hey, Craig, go take my spot, I wanna take over the register." Wendy said, pushing me aside as she logged me off the machine.

"Whatever..." I really had the urge to flip her the bird, but I doubt Clyde would be happy with me if I did that in front of all the customers.

I start making the drinks as she calls them out. I don't know how long it's been, I just know I hate coffee.

"Hey Wendy!" I hear a voice cut through my thoughts. I know that voice.

I don't want to turn around. I can not fucking believe it. It isn't possible. It can't be. That voice can not be real. It can NOT be coming from behind me. It can not be his.

"Hey Kyle, how's work going?" Wendy asks, she sounds like she knows the guy pretty well.

"Pretty bad. They have me filing mail." He replies with a sigh.

"They always have you filing the mail!" She says loudly, I glance over.

"Yeah...and I'm the coffee runner. Again." I hear Wendy make a disgruntled sound, but I don't pay too much attention as I watch 'Kyle' from the corner of my eye.

He has red hair that looks like it might catch on fire its so red. It looks like its been tamed down, as if, in the mornings its probably a curly birds nest, but right now is only slightly wavy. It isn't very long. He's wearing some shitty white button up, that, even though it's obviously expensive, is wrinkled all to hell, and khaki slacks that are equally wrinkled.

I don't want to admit it, but his face is actually pretty. In an ordinary sort of way.

That's the pervert douchebag who called in on the last night? His voice doesn't go with his girly face. It's a bit deeper then you'd expect.

Wendy shouts his stupid and large order at me, I sigh defeatedly and work on the drinks. If I knew which one was his, I'd dump a shitload of half and half in it.

While I'm working on another Cafe Mocha, I listen to their conversation, albeit distractedly.

"When are they going to read any of your shi-stuff?" Wendy said, correcting herself last minute. She was totally going to say shiatsu.

"Probably never. I thought the internship was gonna be a great opportunity, but they treat me like a freakin' secretary. No, less than that." He hands her some bills to pay for the order, and Wendy takes another customer's order, talking to Kyle off and on.

"When is it over?" She asks. I hear the register open and close. I add too much foam to a cappuccino and not enough espresso. I'm not going to remake it.

"When I die." He answers. I hear the distinct sound of the straw dispenser as he grabs a bunch of them. "The end of the quarter."

"How are your classes going?" Wendy is just full of unique and in-depth questions today. "Stan was wondering if you'd like to go to his party this weekend?"

"Fine. Not getting enough sleep but fine." He answers the first as I hear Wendy call for a drink carrier. I leave Bebe to it. I've got hot, steaming milk in my hands. Priorities. "Sure, I'll go. Haven't seen him in a while anyways. Not like I have a lot to do either. Except a paper. But it wont take long to do."

"I'll let him know." I can hear the smile in her voice. I wonder if she'd smile if I told her her friend is a pervert asshat who calls random radio stations while he's jerking off.

I finish the last of the drinks and dump them on the counter next to Wendy, who I glare at. I look Kyle dead in the eye and glare. He looks startled.

"Uh...hi?" He says to me. I guess I confused him. He looks confused. That means he probably doesn't know who I am.

I glare harder and turn away.

"Don't mind him, he's always like that."

-XXX-

At the end of my shift, I pull on my jacket. It's a worn wool blue peacoat, but a washed out, rainy day sort of blue. I've had it for almost three years and it's always been the perfect amount of warm on a cold day. I need to take it in and have the lining done. It's falling apart.

My black slacks have coffee on them, and I know when I get home, the whole place will smell like coffee because of my clothes.

I really hate coffee.

I make sure my wallet is in my back pocket, and my keys in my coat pocket. I notice everyone is busy either changing shifts or cleaning. The shift change is always an awkward time to be around Coffeh Coffeh Conniption.

I chuckle as I grab one of the plastic gloves, pumping a glob of chocolate onto it. As I leave I make sure to get the inside of the door handle, where you cant see the metal, and slime it with the stuff. It's nice, that even though I pull pranks a lot, they're never quite sure if it's me. They have their suspicions, but one of the other guys that work in this shitfest also has a mean streak.

I laugh quietly as I walk towards the bus. When I get on an old man looks at me like I'm insane. I flip him off with a nice "Fuck you." thrown in. The bus driver ignores me as always, and the old bastard looks scandalized.

It's a long ride home.

I take the bus because it's easy. I don't have to think about driving. I don't have to think about how I really want to drive down the sidewalk and hit all of the pedestrians like in Grand Theft Auto. I have my license, but not the ambition to deal with a car and street laws and all that.

When I reach my apartment, it smells like lemons. I keep the place clean, because I don't like dealing with a mess. There are a few things here and there, like a throw laying on the floor and a book tossed on the old leather couch.

I kick off my shoes, and unbutton my coat, throwing it on the back of the couch, where it will stay until I put it back on.

I plop down on the massive piece of furniture, and turn on my decently sized LCD television. stretching my legs out and relaxing. The news is on, or something. I don't really watch it, because I'm thinking about how my day transpired.

Most of the people who called the radio show were from the area, after all it's a local station, but I had no idea I could ever meet the guy who called in that last night on air.

At first, the whole situation freaked me out. The things he was saying were erratic and weird all on their own, but as I listened, I couldn't bring myself to cut him off. His voice was...magnetic and the lust I could hear over the line turned my ears into metal.

When I realized it wasn't a joke, and he really was jerking off, I cut the show short. But he was still on the line when he finished, moaning like some whore before the line clicked dead.

I had sat in my seat awkwardly for awhile. Mary, the assistant who fed the calls in to me looked like she was going to go bug eyed on me, so I stood up, flipped her the bird and said my farewells. She was nice, but damn did her voice piss me off.

I would never admit it, but that night I came home and jerked off faster than I ever had before.

Fuck, news is boring.

-XXX-

I wake up pissed off, as usual. Clyde calls me in an hour early, which makes me angrier. When I get to work, my black hair is a mess, falling into my eyes every four-and-a-half seconds. I put on the stupid pink apron and my little 'Craig Tucker' Coffeh Coffeh Conniption name tag, and I stand behind the counter with a sour and slightly dead look on my face.

Order after order after order. Today Wendy doesn't seem inclined to take over. There's a short break in the swarms of people, so I check my cell phone. I got a text from Tweek.

'Can u sTop bY after work w a six-shot?' The text reads.

'Sure, whatever. Be there round 5.' I reply, pressing send as a new swarm of fucks bombards the cafe.

It's almost one. And again there is a lull in the shop. I put my head in my hands and my elbows on the counter, supporting my weight. My eyes attempt to roll into my brain as I try to get some sort of rest. My ass is sticking out, so Bebe decides to slap it with a towel. I hiss and straighten up, rubbing the sore spot as the door chimes for the umpteenth time.

Kyle walks up to the counter, staring at me curiously as I rub my ass. I stop and stare at him with a stupid look on my face, waiting for him to say something stupid. Which includes ordering fifteen damn coffees.

"Is Wendy around?" The bitch just had to take her break, leaving me with the perv.

"She's on break. Are you going to order or do you want to wait." I glare daggers, but my seething glare doesn't stop me from noticing how pale he just went.

His eyes open really wide. They're grass green. As bright as his hair, and just as soon as his cheeks had paled, deep red rushed back into them. He's looking everywhere, no longer meeting my eyes.

"Um..uh..yea-h..." He stutters.

"Really?" I say, drawing the word out, letting it roll on my tongue as each sound breaks through.

About then he notices my name tag. I can see the gears running in his mind, I watch his (not at all kissable lips) mouth each word. Digesting what it meant.

"Craig Tucker." I say, a Cheshire grin blossoming on my face. I feel like my skin is cracking, it's been a while since I made the face. "You going to order or am I supposed to read your mind?"

He slowly raises his eyes to mine and steps back slowly. He looks like a scared rabbit.

"Cat got your tongue?" I say in a low voice as I lean over the counter, inching towards him.

"I-I...Craig...Craig..T-tucker?" He whispers. "C...C.T.?"

"There once was a little radio show that couldn't." I drawled, tapping the counter with my index finger as I once again leaned my head on my open palm.

My Cheshire grin grows alarmingly into a near smile as the weight of it all lands on the ginger's shoulders.

"You...you can't be..." He backs up a little more, a curling lock of hair falling into his face. I use my own and let it slide in front of my eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure I can be...Kyle." I reply, pointing to my name tag. "Says so right here."

I haven't had this much fun in forever.

-XXX-

Second chapter! It is done! It's going pretty smoothly too! Thank you for the reviews, I was afraid I wouldn't get many good remarks, but you guys said wonderful things.

bluestar: Thanks! I'm glad you like it so far, I hope I continue to please!

Nana: I try to be as original as I can. I hope you read and enjoyed this chapter.

Nameless Person: At first I was thinking about it being a one shot, but I'm a romantic so I had to continue on!

symphknot: I'm glad you like how pervy it is. I was worried it would rub people the wrong way.

Again, thank you, please R&R!

Chapter Three Preview:

He had a look of purpose in his eyes as he strode towards me. Fuck. If I had known he'd be at this fucking party I wouldn't have shown up. I don't like Stan that much.