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Tweek rereads his messy handwriting on the slip of paper Craig advised him to keep, and looks back up at the restaurant establishment that is supposed to be where they'll be going on a date today.
He begins to shake, his eyes going up and down the label of his horrible penmanship and the restaurant, wondering if he has mistaken something, if the description Craig has given of the place will not match what this restaurant looks, or—
"Tweek." He gasps as he feels a hand touch his shoulder tenderly, and he swivels to look at Craig, who looks…
He looked good; that is the only word his mind can come up with right now.
The years have been so kind to Craig (even if he objects to the wanton favoritism he is currently being shown by time), and Tweek finds himself oddly jealous of it. His hair has become smoother, dark ebony melding into the night sky in a beautiful way. His golden eyes, which were once a reminder of the humanity he lost when he went to Peru, utterly demolish the darkness. He has left his crisp blue jacket and the hat which conceals his hair behind in favor of a black suit, looking ruffled but still, it suits the slightly sincere look on his face.
Tweek continues to stare whilst shaking, and Craig just sighs. "This is the restaurant I asked you to meet up in."
Green eyes return to look at the name of the restaurant and back at the piece of paper, he wrote. "Oh."
He crumples the paper and wants to throw it away, but Craig holds onto his hand holding it. "You don't have to get rid of that, you were right." He tells him as if it was his choice to throw the paper away rather than Tweek’s.
He doesn't tell him that, though, as he lets himself follow Craig, blindly yearning for more than his touch as they enter the restaurant.
Tweek braces himself for the bright lights masquerading as replications of lamps and the loud chatter coalescing into the cacophonous scraping of utensils over plates as they attempt to make it seem as if they are the most civilized people in the world. (They fail at that, always finding the worst opportunity to bring out who they really are over the course of a minute or so.) However, when he opens his eyes, he finds himself to be met with decently lit up lamps truly looking as if they were candles, and there were minimal people inside. Either this restaurant wants to sell this aesthetic team going on, or it truly is loyal to giving its customers a comfortable experience.
"We're seated near the counter," Craig tells him, but he still follows with a distracted mind this time. It doesn't take them long to find their seats, and Tweek is even more surprised when he's not twitching heavily and under stress occasionally. He simply watches as Craig himself gets comfortable, and for good measure, takes off the jacket of his suit, murmuring of how his parents overreacted when they found out he was taking his boyfriend out on a date.
Their real date.
Not those fake ones where they try to act as if they care about each other and pretend one does not exist as they log onto a video game.
It's not like when they fell in love, they immediately asked each other out— neither of them didn't even expect to start kissing each other with passion or think about them daily. It drove him mad when he realized that all he wanted to do was to curl up on Craig's body as he listened to his unusually slow heartbeat as Craig talked about the most interesting thing that had happened in his life. (It was Stripe almost dying but through unnatural odds, he lived.)
Craig said he wanted a shot at proper dating one day, and Tweek, deciding it is also appropriate for the both of them to experience what a true dating experience is like, concedes to his idea.
It's not like he has things to be doing in the first place, and he too, a part of him, wanted to experience what dating the love of his life would be like.
He twitches as he realizes what he just thought.
His eyes flit up towards Craig, who was attempting to fill the silence with the most bored expression possible.
Great. Tweek was not even listening to what he considers to be the love of his life. How could he do such a thing?
He must be twitching hard now, as he feels a placating hand on his own, and he lets out a startled noise.
“It’s just me.” How can Craig say that so perfectly, so calmly? He does not even seem bothered or embarrassed that the boy he took out at a sophisticated restaurant for a date is currently the source of judgment by the waiters. He did not like to be watched, but god, he feels as if he is on a stage right now. Golden eyes flit to Tweek’s own green eyes, being illuminated by the golden candlelight between them.
An epitome of a romantic date, but Tweek knows he’s going to ruin everything.
When the waiter arrived to collect their menus and their orders, Tweek’s palms were glazed with sweat, but for all the demerits he had caused already, he managed to say his orders (seafood that is particularly filled with lobster and crab) with minimal stuttering. He feels Craig’s gaze, and he does not think he is judging him.
They are past that stage already.
When the waiter leaves, Tweek tries to invest himself in the conversation Craig is having with him.
“So…” Craig sounds tense, nervous of Tweek’s own opinion, and he finds himself valued by it. “What do you think?”
“Of what?” He asks, calmer this time.
“Of this place. The venue I chose for our date.”
“Oh. Um… it’s nice.” Tweek touches the tablecloth as a source of comfort and reminds him he is not in his bedroom. Finding this the appropriate time to ask his most wanted-answered question, he leans forward, his eyes focusing on Craig and Craig only. There are only so many things he can focus on, and he chooses to focus on one of the people who makes him feel good. Helps him avoid the absolute reminder that humanity is a fucked up kind of purgatory and he suffers because of it. “May I ask you something?”
He asks as if Craig would say no, but Craig has always said yes to him. He’s told everyone ‘no’ his entire life, yet he cannot bear seeing the unhappiness in Tweek’s eyes to even decline the things he asks of him. (If Tweek even asks.)
Craig not saying anything is easily perceived as letting Tweek continue.
“Why did you even ask me out?” Before Craig can answer, Tweek will spiral into overthinking and believing that he has accidentally misspoken his intentions. “I mean, we’re in love, I know we– we know that. We’ve been– dating, I guess since we were– were little kids whether we like it or not, and, and—”
His boyfriend waits for him to finish as he continues to stutter. He appreciates Craig’s infinite patience.
“And, well, I was wondering, what’s the point of bringing me to a fancy dinner date?! Cuz I’m definitely not the best when it comes to acting civilized!”
“I don’t think anyone here is more civilized than we both are.”
“Yeah but— AGH! I’m literally the guy who freaks out when things go way too horribly immediately! I’m just— I’m just—”
“A brilliant boy whose mind stores brilliant things.”
Tweek wishes he could believe that to his heart’s content but… he cannot. He could not. He doesn’t know why. Perhaps it’s because he’s inclined to believe the opposite of everything he hears from loved ones’ mouths.
He lets out a deep, calming breath, his twitches subsiding and his urge to pull out his hair returning to the depths of his feelings. “What I’m saying is we don’t– we don’t have to go on a fancy dinner date. I’d be content staying at home and watching the thirty-second season of Red Racer.”
Craig blinks at him, and he lets out a deep sigh that is aimed not at Tweek, but rather at himself. For what, he doesn’t know.
Tweek twitches slightly, tilting his head. “Craig? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m just…” Craig meets his eyes again, this time casting a soft glow that encompasses his face. “I want to go on a fancy dinner date with you because a lot of guys noticed that the two of us haven’t gone to a single restaurant since we started dating. I guess… I guess I got offended that they started making fun of how poor the both of us are.”
“We’re not poor like Cartman or Kenny, but we aren’t as rich as Clyde or Tolkien,” Tweek feels like making an input there, still surprised and slightly feeling warm at the declaration of Craig wanting to go on a dinner date because he wanted to defend both their honors.
“And besides,” Tweek gasps as he feels a hand softly hold his fingers lacing together, as Craig leans forward with a shy smile. A smile he only reserves for Tweek, one only he can see. “I want to be able to brag to others about how pretty you look in a suit, babe.”
Tweek’s face grows hot, and sweat begins to form on his palms yet again. Craig does not seem to be so bothered, however. It was as if he knew he was the source of his embarrassment. “Wh–what about you?! I always found you so– so pretty, but you look like some kind of Instagram model with what you’re wearing! You even got me thinking you’re the love of my life— which you are!”
Now it’s Craig’s turn to become red in the face. “You think… I’m pretty?”
“Duh! Remember when you were voted prettiest boy in class?! I started giggling about it when I realized that I hit a jackpot!”
“You’re just saying stuff…”
“True stuff!”
Tweek doesn’t even know why he almost let his anxieties flood over his thought process for almost a whole thirty minutes. Being in a small, silent, and slightly dim restaurant with Craig as they awaited their food was heaven. In fact, being with Craig was so incomparable to what the deities will offer him as he moves on.
Heaven cannot be heaven without Craig.