A Theatre Gay

COMMISSIONS OPEN Michel/22/He/Him A blog for art, writing, cosplay, and more.

[orangeorangeorangeorangepear]

I joined the @craigandthoseguys-week  secret santa this year and well… MERRY CHRISTMAS @digishima They weren’t very specific with their prompt, they only wanted me to draw Craig similar to how they usually draw him. So I decided to draw a huge sleepy Craig surrounded by his gang. I am sorry, I tried.

[asktheatregays]

Tweek hadn’t meant to keep the shop open well into the morning. They were prepping for the next morning at 11 when their mom had wandered back home to bed and Tweek had promised they would follow shortly after but that was three hours ago and the open sign had yet to be flipped from the door.

The late night air had been refreshing when they had stepped out for a small break. Just enough of a jolt from the warm air that circulated in the shop to lift whatever edges of sleep had started to creep up on him. Any normal night, Tweek would be afraid of the Main Street, but the only car on the street was one that he easily recognized, a stream of smoke from the back window of the light blue sedan as it came to a stop in front of the blonde.

“Hey, Blondie,” Henrietta smirked up at Tweek as the driver side window slid down. Pete stretched across the middle console to see him.

“Hey yourself,” Tweek greeted back. Firkle was leaning out the back window and Michael was leaned as far out the opposite window as he could get so the smoke from his cigarette wouldn’t reach the youngest goth as he took a deep breath from his inhaler. “You just get back?”

Firkle modded, yawning into his crossed arms. “We placed. Second. It was bullshit.”

“They don’t know a good thing when they hear it.”

Pete nodded. “Damn right they don’t. What a bunch of biased pricks.”

Tweek laughed, nodding back towards the cafe. “You want to come in? Get changed, scrub your faces off? Have a drink and the leftovers from today?”

The goths in the car exchanged a look before Henrietta threw her mother’s car in park and they all started to clamber out, pulling covers and bags out from the trunk as they went. “Well, we already took Karen home. No better place to celebrate,” she declared.

The blonde went inside and started on drinks, having their orders memorized by heart. After the Village Inn started to crack down on the teens for their spending (or lack thereof), the group had moved to Tweak Bros for their caffeine fill save for special occasions and nostalgia trips. It was a good system, they were often wandering town in the middle of the night, Helen offered them half off any time if they accepted “mystery” drinks when the shop was testing recipes and with Pete’s employee discount on top of that.. How could they possibly decline?

Henrietta was the first into the bathroom while the boys settled in a booth and slapped a pack of makeup wipes on the middle for them all to grab for.

“My hair is so stiff right now,” Michael complained, “that if anyone touches it, it will break off like an icicle.”

Pete snorted, cleaning carefully around his piercings. “Drama queen.”

The banter continued while Tweek loaded the hours old pastries onto a platter for them all. They carefully balanced it on their shoulder as they lifted the counter gate and headed to the table. Deep breaths, no sudden moves.

The desserts survived the trek to the table.

“So, what are you getting tonight, Pete?” Tweek asked, looking down at him as they waited for the answer they always got.

Pete looked up to meet their eyes, eyes crinkling up at the corners as he smiled and answered, “Surprise me.”

Henrietta stepped out of the bathroom and Firkle grabbed up his bag to change next. Tweek took this as his cue to return to making drinks.

The goths easily filled the would be silence of the shop, bickering between them the way a family would. Pete was relentlessly mocking Michael’s hair, braiding Henrietta’s as she cleaned her own makeup off. Occasionally, Henri would pick up a cookie or rip off a bite of cake and hold it up to his mouth with a quiet scolding of ‘stop talking and eat, Crow.’

Michael was up next to change, leaving his cane propped against the booth as he meandered back. Firkle yawned, making Tweek more confident as he slid a cup of cocoa with just a splash of coffee toward him, which he accepted happily.

“White chocolate mocha for the lady,” the barista called, passing Henrietta her drink as she continued to force-feed Pete.

“Thank you.”

“And a pumpkin spice latte for the gentleman,” they turned to the bathroom as Michael emerged, head soaking wet from rinsing the gel and hair spray out of it. He took the drink as he made it back to the table.

“Crow,” Michael urged quietly as Pete kept his gaze on Henrietta’s complex crown of braids he was creating, “it's time to go change out of those clothes.”

“It’s almost done.” Pete pinned the last braid in place and removed himself from the back of the booth.

Tweek sat beside Michael, wordlessly nudging the stuck hinge of his prosthetic as he did so. Michael looked down at the shift of his leg, but said nothing, slipping his hand across the table to Henrietta and threading their fingers together as she sipped.

“So, Pete took second pretty hard?”

Henrietta nodded. “The judges marked his pretty low.”

“The judges must be deaf.”

Michael rubbed his neck. “Actually, he really tripped up tonight. We all know it happens sometimes, but you know...He was just missing tonight.”

Tweek nodded, listening to the Elder Goth. “But still, second.”

“Honestly, we thought it was going to take Pete out,” Firkle said, finally peeping up, “but of course it didn’t.”

Henrietta hummed her agreement. “We wouldn’t have placed it all if it had.”

“Well, I’m proud of you all. I’m sure the others are proud too.”

Pete stepped out and the conversation stopped. Tweek held the cup out for him.

“What’s in it?” Tweek smiled, mischief in his eyes.

“Surprise.”

“Of course.”

If Pete didn’t notice the look Michael and Henri shared, squeezing each other’s hands tighter, Tweek wasn’t going to mention it.

Firkle was asleep in less than an hour, Michael and Henrietta adjusting him in the back seat so it was comfortable as they packed up to head home. Michael slid into the passenger seat and Henrietta turned to Pete. “You ready.”

Pete drew Michael’s coat tighter around him. “I actually think I’ll walk home. Could use the air. And a smoke. Just drop Firk off with my stuff, his bed is all clean. Dad still isn’t home.“

She nodded, gathering up her skirt before she got in and closed the door.

Tweek opened the door again as the car drove off, tugging Pete inside gently. “Hey, wait until I close up here to walk home. I’ll go with you.”

Pete nodded, going to grab a broom and help when Tweek took his hand and guided him back to the booth and his half empty cup. “Tweek?”

“I’m really impressed. You got Second.”

“I fucked up.”

“You placed Second even with a mess up.”

“We could have gotten First.”

“Are you still advancing?”

“Well, yeah-“

“So don’t worry! I know it sounds ironic, coming from me, but. Pete.” They grabbed his hands, closing them up around his. “You stress out so much over this. Take a deep breath. Let it out slow. You placed! You’re advancing! And next time you’re going to nail it!”

Pete chuckled, but it was interrupted by a wetter sounding noise, eyes misting up. “Thanks, Blondie.”

They nodded, looking the goth over quietly. “How about tomorrow, after work, we go somewhere. Get your mind off this mess until you have to go back to preparing?”

“What, like-“

“A date. Yeah. I mean, as a date. Unless-“

“No, I’d love to,” Pete smiled, sniffling.

Tweek nodded. “Yeah. Great. Cool.”

“Cool.”

They stood up, giving his cold hands a final squeeze. “Let me grab the keys. I’ll take you home.”

“Right. Thanks, Tweek.”

“Always.”