Chapter Text
In the morning, it was still dark when he awoke to someone lightly shaking him. “Tweek!” Bebe cried out. “Good, there you are. I have to leave early but I didn’t want you to sleep in. God, you slept in his clothes? You’re diabolical.”
She giggled while Tweek tried to get his bearings. “Oh, no! God, I didn’t mean to!” he shrieked, seeing how entangled in Craig’s clothes he had gotten in the night. “Is that going to— Augh, will I smell like him?”
“Mhm,” Bebe confirmed, sounding altogether too amused. “I don’t think he’d mind all that much, but don’t worry either way, honey. Got you a present.”
He sat up, trying to rid the bleariness from his eyes; she was holding out a bottle of soap.
“Oh, the–the stuff?” he asked inarticulately, taking the bottle and turning it around in his hands.
“Sure is, hon. You just get yourself cleaned up and then get to work on dessert and everything else you can prepare in advance. The sommelier will come around midday and can lend a hand, and then I’ll get you nice and pretty in the afternoon, and you’ll have both of us on-hand to help with the dishes that need to be done shortly before. Sound good?”
“Ah-huh,” Tweek said, vacantly reading the words on the label: Alpha-omega Scent Neutralizing Gel. “Where are you going?”
She smiled at him coyly. “I have to pick up the flower arrangements and some clothing. Get up—I have to measure you.”
“Clothing for, egh, me?” he asked, slowly getting to his feet.
“That’s right, sweetie. I don’t have anything in your size just lying around. Besides, it’s about time we got you a regular uniform. I’m going to the tailor first; he’ll make you some nice things.”
“Can you just spend money like that?”
“Of course I can, Tweek. You’ve been here long enough. It’s not like Kyle will want you in his husband’s sweater in front of company,” she said, tucking her hands under his sweater and wrapping the measuring tape around his waist. “No matter how obviously loveless their sham of a marriage is,” she finished under her breath.
She slid her hands all the way up to his chest, tickling him, to hold the tape tightly around his chest. “Stop squirming.”
“Nnnh, sorry.”
“Pants down so I can get your hips.” She smiled wide and cat-like.
Hesitantly, Tweek lowered his pants a bit, only continuing when she rolled her eyes and sighed. He didn’t want to expose himself to her after last night, but once they were low enough, she wrapped the measuring tape around his hips, pulling it tight and taking note of the number. Before Tweek could pull them up again, she ran her finger over his soft cock, giggling to herself. Then she pulled them up herself and gave him a little pat on the bottom.
“You’re all set, hon. Now get in that shower and get started. You don’t have to do much for breakfast. Kyle leaves early and tries to get his aggression out at work before these things, so it’ll just be you and Craig. Something light would be best but be sure to eat enough. We don’t need the cook passing out.”
“Agh, thank you, Bebe,” Tweek choked out, still reeling from being touched intimately so early in the morning, and the memories from last night that such contact stirred up.
With a kiss on the cheek—not unusual from Bebe but still overwhelming in light of everything—she departed, and Tweek did as instructed, getting into the shower and scrubbing all over with the neutralizing gel.
He had to rest his head against the shower wall, thinking about how Bebe had swiveled her hand around his erection. Could he mimic that action? He could certainly try.
He thought about how Craig had held him, how he’d smelled, the musk clinging to Tweek and his clothes. Had he subconsciously slept in a heap of those clothes because he was secretly that desperate for an alpha’s touch? That was sad.
He thought about the taste of his spend. He was just a waste receptacle to Craig, but that could be enough. In this state, where Tweek was pumping his pathetic omega cock like Bebe had, it might be enough to be just a vessel for Craig, an object on which he might take out his aggression and frustration and excess seed he wasn’t putting to any good use.
It wouldn’t go to good use inside Tweek’s broken body either, and he’d have to lube up and really stretch just to be able to take the tip. He probably couldn’t take much more than that, not being able to get wet naturally, but Craig had said he wanted to see him struggle, hadn’t he?
Tweek would struggle for him. At least, that was what he thought about as he brought himself to a quick and messy release, ejaculating onto the wall and floor of the shower, getting it on his hand, too. How could he be so pent up? He’d just come last night, and the night before that.
After he washed down the evidence of his depravity, Tweek thoroughly washed his hands and genitals with the neutralizing soap, hoping it would be enough. Once dry, he dressed in his usual slacks but just the undershirt up top. If he kept the stove fan on and a window open, hopefully he wouldn't get sweaty and need to shower again. They’d be pinched for time.
He made a simple fruit salad and boiled a few eggs for him and Craig that morning and got to work on coffee for the man. Craig wandered in a bit later, and Tweek brought it over in a hurry.
“Relax. You don’t need to stress,” Craig told him, sipping his coffee.
“Agh, I’ve got almond pear tartlets to make, the endive hors d’oeuvres, arugula salad, scallops and pumpkin risotto. And Bebe has to get me ready at some point and who knows how long that will take!?”
“Sit down,” Craig ordered, his voice soft and calming.
Tweek sat promptly, feeling a light throb in his center at the directive. He really didn't have time for this, though. Scooping some fruit in a dish, Craig pushed it over to Tweek and commanded again, “Eat.”
He did that too, even though Craig got up right then. He didn’t have to comply. No one was watching him, but it felt good to do as he was told.
Craig had been right, too—he needed to eat, and he needed to stay calm and just think this thing through. Soon Craig returned with a pen and notepad from the kitchen.
“Bebe gets back at 2:30 p.m.. The sommelier is supposed to arrive around noon but he’s not always reliable. Write out what needs to be made freshly within an hour or two of the dinner starting and what can be done now.”
“Rghh, the tartlets should be made now!”
“Write it down,” Craig told him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Then he got back to his coffee.
Tweek frowned, but wrote his list. He’d have help soon enough. He could allocate tasks to others and get it all done.
He could’ve done components of the tartlets in advance, but there hadn’t been time yesterday. The past few days, in fact, had been utter chaos. He needed the tartlet shells, poached pears, and almond cream. He should make his broth for the risotto. Roasting the pumpkin and making the puree for it wouldn’t take long but could be done in advance as well. The salad dressing should also be made in advance. He should do all of that before the sommelier arrived and Bebe got back.
Everything else would have to be done shortly before the dinner started. Risotto required constant stirring and focus, so he could have the others cut produce for the salad and endive boats while he worked on that. Scallops would come out of the fridge a half hour before cooking, and be seared to be placed over the rice dish. They would need to be quite dry to get a good sear, but he could instruct Bebe on how best to do that while he minded the rest.
By the time he finished writing it out, it did seem far more manageable, and he ate his fruit salad and drank water to keep up his strength for the day.
“If you need me,” Craig started, “I’ll be going for a long run, but then I’ll be in my chambers. If you need help, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be around.”
“Thank you,” Tweek said, smiling gratefully.
Craig didn’t have to help him, but he already had, making him sit and list out his tasks.
With him gone, Tweek got to making the pastry dough for his tartlets, spotting Craig leaving for his run through the garden. As he wrapped the dough in plastic and chilled it in the refrigerator, he wondered what Craig thought about when he was out running. What did he read in his leisure time? How did he muster the strength to be calm when everything was in such turmoil, and he and his husband did not love each other?
At least, according to Bebe, they didn’t. It was possible they did in their own odd way. But somehow, Tweek doubted it.
In the orphanage, Tweek had roasted pumpkins every fall. The other orphans loved the salted roasted pumpkin seeds and he saved the puree for pie and other baked goods. He could do it all blindfolded.
Hours passed without stress somehow, Tweek even roasting the pumpkin seeds for a snack for the help. He was just putting the salad dressing in the refrigerator when he heard commotion by the door. Wandering down the corridor, he eavesdropped as the front door was opened.
“Hey, Craig!” a cheerful voice rang out.
Craig didn’t greet the man warmly, though Tweek would’ve been surprised if he had. “Alright, go—help the cook, please,” he said with a sigh, as though already exasperated.
“Sure thing, boss,” the guy replied, and it was then Tweek realized he sounded awfully familiar.
Knowing so few people in this world, he was unable to keep himself from turning the corner, surprised to find the face familiar as well. “Ack—Kenny?” he blurted out.
“Tweeky, baby!” Kenny exclaimed, running at him and scooping him up into the air, ignoring Tweek’s flailing and screeching. He’d always been handsy like that. “No way, you’re the new cook?”
“What, you guys know each other?” Turning his head, Tweek saw Craig was leaning against the door frame with his arms folded over his chest.
“Ack, yeah… we worked at the same hotel last year,” Tweek explained when, perhaps persuaded by Craig’s glowering, Kenny relented and put him back down.
“Oh. Then you’ll work together well,” Craig theorized dully.
At that, Kenny laughed. “Hard to concentrate around this one, though. You know what I mean, Craig?” He playfully elbowed Tweek in the side, making him squeak.
“Kenny, just get to work, please.”
Sighing theatrically, Kenny conceded, “Fine. I’ll pair your damn wines. You guys want a signature cocktail for the evening too?”
“Whatever fits with his menu,” Craig told him, rolling his eyes unsubtly.
With that, he departed, and Kenny waggled his eyebrows at Tweek and followed him into the kitchen.
“Not the nicest, is he?” he prompted.
“No, he’s—” Tweek started, “nnnh, he’s nicer than Mr. Broflovski.”
“Very low bar to clear, my dear Tweek,” Kenny quipped.
“Still, ah…” Tweek felt the urge to defend the guy, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. “He’s nice sometimes.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” The way Kenny was smirking at him was making him uncomfortable. It felt like everyone knew something he didn’t, but Kenny had just gotten here. Besides, he was a beta. What could he know that Tweek didn’t?
He had worked with this household before, so presumably plenty, but Tweek didn’t have time for house gossip.
Leaning against the counter, he showed him the task list Craig had had him make, and wrote out the complete menu with loose recipes for Kenny at his urging. Everyone had had to fill in in the chaotic hotel restaurant environment where people sometimes just wouldn’t show up for their shifts, so he trusted Kenny to be able to cook well.
“Totally doable,” he remarked, peering over Tweek’s shoulder. “Let me pick out some wine to go with courses. I think we should have a cocktail for hors d’oeuvres. Maybe an aperol spritz of some kind,” he muttered to himself.
“Can you help me with the tartlet shells for now?”
“Huh?” Kenny asked, looking up. “Oh, yeah, of course.”
Tweek was still showing Kenny how to fill the tartlet pans when Craig came back in, this time with a book. He spared them a single glance, but Tweek gaped at him ‘til he was seated at the dining table again, positioned so he could see them if he felt that compelled to watch. Other than the time with the stove fan, Craig had never hovered like this before, not over Tweek’s actual cooking process.
Kenny shot Tweek a look before getting back to filling the pans.
“What?” Tweek whispered.
“Nothing… just, not that different from working at the hotel.”
“Ack, what do you mean?” Tweek asked, perplexed. “Nobody’s yelling or anything.”
Kenny snorted. “Please. Tophe was flirting with you.”
“What? No, he was not!” Kenny and his wild ideas. “He was just, agh, just a jerk!”
“Yeah, well, that’s how jerks flirt in the food industry.”
“Then he must’ve liked a lot of people ‘cause he yelled at everyone!”
“Not like that.”
Tweek screwed up his face trying to imagine things the way Kenny was describing them—their rude French former boss had yelled at Tweek in a particular way? That wasn’t right, was it? It couldn’t be.
“God, you’re so blind, Tweek. It’s obviously happening here too.”
“What’s happening here?” he asked, exasperated. Why could no one ever spell things out for him?
“Hey, Kenny,” Craig called from the other room, sounding bored.
“Yeah, boss?”
“There’s actually a lot to do. You wanna not distract the chef if you’re not gonna help?”
“I am helping,” Kenny replied indignantly, pressing the dough into a tart pan a little too hard.
“Why don’t you help by picking out the wine and figuring out that cocktail? You know, your job?”
He sighed, and acquiesced.
“It’s happening again,” Kenny murmured in Tweek’s ear before darting off to the wine cellar.
Craig came into the kitchen just as Kenny disappeared out of sight. He leaned against the counter in a relaxed stance, arms loosely crossed over his chest, but Tweek could sense he was not actually relaxed; he wanted something.
“Coworkers, huh.”
“Hnng? Yeah. He was the sommelier at the hotel.” Hadn’t they already told Craig that?
“You seem close.”
“Nnh, no way, man.” They definitely weren’t close. They had never spoken outside of work or kept in touch or anything. “Kenny’s just like that.”
“Your hair’s in your face,” Craig said softly.
Tweek was finishing up his last tartlet shell so he was taken off guard when Craig brushed his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear gently. His voice caught in his throat when he looked up at Craig and found him gazing back down at him with a contented smile on his face.
It wasn’t fair that he could get Tweek in a state with such small gestures. He had work to do. He was nothing and nobody, only as good as his next meal, and it wasn’t right for Craig to occasionally treat him like somebody who was worth something.
“I have to get ready,” Craig told him, snapping him out of his self-reproach spiral. “You can find me in my chambers if you need anything. Bebe should be back soon.”
With Kenny’s help, he was able to work through all but the endmost tasks with minimal stress. Kenny always kept the mood light and fun, and when Bebe returned, Tweek found they too had a playful rapport.
“Let me just make sure the master of the house approves of the flowers,” she told them with a wink, leaving them to their tart filling.
Tweek was surprised Kenny then told him the two of them used to mess around, but his “lady doesn’t like that ‘kind of girl’. I think she’d like her if she gave her the chance, but I’m not gonna push.”
They had an open relationship, Kenny said, which he of course then had to explain. Tweek couldn’t imagine having one relationship, let alone any number of them going on at once. And for a beta, too—Kenny sure had an active social life. Maybe that was owing to the nature of his work, traveling around and meeting different people, at least in part.
Despite the lively conversation, they got the tartlets onto trays and in the two preheated ovens, and Tweek was still setting the timer when a commotion came from the other room—shouting and things crashing.
Tweek had never heard Bebe yell like that, and her voice was getting closer.
“For fuck’s sake, Craig! Let go of me!” she shouted, trying to shake Craig’s hand off her upper arm as she rushed into the kitchen, but he was stronger and bigger and didn’t care that others were around.
He slammed her against the fridge and yelled in her face, “What do you think you’re fucking doing? Huh? I let you do whatever you like, not that you’d listen to me either way, but I don’t care what you get up to. And you do this?”
“Craig, you’re acting crazy! If you’re having issues, you have to talk to someone. Go see a doctor!”
“No, you knew. You both knew. You’re fucking—plotting! Stealing him, ruining him. Trying to make him like you. Don’t fucking do it again!”
“I won’t!” she shouted back, staring right back at him for a few moments before looking down, visibly clenching her jaw.
That she had looked him directly in the eye as long as she had filled Tweek with vicarious terror. An omega shouldn’t do that. He released her finally and she bolted to stand by Tweek and Kenny; it was probably her instinct to be around others, strength in numbers and all. Craig hadn’t moved, and it scared Tweek to think of what Craig might say to him.
“Shit, are you okay?” Kenny asked her, squeezing her shoulder as if to ground her.
“I have to bathe and change quickly,” she told him quietly, and then nodding in the direction of Tweek and Craig, she added, “Please keep an eye on them.”
She wasn’t gone thirty seconds before Craig turned and started in on Tweek, though, and what could Kenny really do, aside from stand between them? “What, is it just—Everyone but me? You just, hah… fucking everyone. Stan, Bebe, who knows what you’ve done with Kenny. Better not leave you alone with fucking Kyle. You’d probably let yourself get marked and knotted.”
Kenny attempted to intervene, but Craig was apparently on a tear again, needing to express his disgust with Tweek more emphatically than before. “Craig, you gotta—”
“What? You’re just, you fucking beta loser, you’re gonna cut in and get me to lay off and he puts out for you just like that ‘cause you saved him? Is that what you think? I don’t have to do what you say. This is my goddamn house!”
Kenny vehemently denied the accusation, but Craig kept going in on him. He had that mean, domineering tone as he berated Kenny, which wasn’t right, but at least the pressure was off of Tweek, even if just momentarily. His hands shook as he looked at his task list and tried to think of what should come next.
“Craig,” Kenny cut in. “Come on, man. Guests are gonna be here soon. Why don’t you get yourself under control and figure out what you want to say to Tweek later if you’ve got something to say?”
“He’ll probably be fucking pregnant by the time I work that out,” Craig snarled.
“Man, you’re being a dick. If you’re confused, imagine how Tweek must feel, you know?”
Craig was still staring at him, breathing heavily, and Tweek had no choice but to look to the floor, staring at his own feet. He couldn’t stand there and look back at a hostile alpha, and he couldn’t pretend he was still able to focus on his tasks.
Sneering, Craig shot back, “He seems to have no problem spreading his legs for whoever asks nicely enough.”
“That’s not fair. He’s new here. He’s the youngest and the smallest and has never gotten his heat. You know damn well if Stan and Bebe touched him, they were the aggressors. Just like you right now.” At that, Craig glared at Kenny with a hard look on his face, his nose creased in animalistic fury. But he did relent.
Tweek could hear him breathing hard, but he kept his eyes down. He had no idea how Bebe had managed to look him in the eye in this state.
“Go cool off. They’re gonna smell it all over you.”
“Don’t fucking—you don’t touch him while I’m gone,” Craig spat.
“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but he’s like a little brother to me, okay? He was a kid when we worked together. He’s basically still a kid; I’m not gonna take this opportunity to cop a feel.”
In a way, Tweek was glad to hear that from Kenny. As much as he might find it patronizing under normal circumstances, he’d never really known where he stood with Kenny or if his flirting was earnest or just how he acted generally.
“Look at him, you’re scaring the fuck out of him. Please, dude, just go try to get a hold of yourself, okay?”
With one last exasperated huff, Craig turned, knocking over a vase on his way out. It didn’t break, just clattered onto the floor, sending the flowers flying.
Kenny picked them up, looking up at Tweek incredulously. “Dude, what the fuck is going on?”
“I don’t know,” Tweek choked out, trying not to cry over the stove.
“Oh, Tweek, baby. C’mere.”
Tweek sobbed, but let Kenny hold him as his knees went weak from the emotional weight of it all. “He said not to touch me,” he protested anyway.
“Fuck him, dude. He won’t smell it anyway, I’m a beta. We can do shit like—comfort our fucking friends without caring what some hormone-addled freak thinks about it.”
“He’s not a freak! I’m messing everything up; he’s right to be mad! I let Stan touch me, and then Bebe!”
“I know Stan, dude,” Kenny said, brushing his hair out of his eyes, like Craig had done earlier. “He’s got issues. He’s needy. I know it wasn’t you pushing for that, whatever you did.”
“Agh, no, but Bebe—”
“And Bebe’s a downright vixen,” he interjected with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” Tweek conceded, “but she gave me a choice, and so did he, and I said yes both times.” To that, Kenny had nothing to say. Increasingly, Tweek was feeling like he didn’t deserve the strong defense he’d been given before, though Kenny didn’t let him go or stop his slow, calming breathing.
“Why are you crying, kiddo?”
He hadn’t even noticed he was, but he knew why he deserved to be. “There’s something wrong with me, Kenny. It’s my fault they were all trying to touch me and Craig hates me now. I wasn’t supposed to let other people touch me.”
“If that’s how Craig felt, he should’ve courted you normally.”
“What is there to court? Rrrgh, I’m broken, man!”
“That’s bullshit, Tweek,” Kenny huffs, pulling him closer. “You’re perfect, perfect just the way you are. You’re not the only one who’s late or different. And look at me; I’m just a beta. I’m not even a part of this game.”
“You’re lucky, man. I wish I was a beta. Don’t you, ah, like it? You don’t get all crazy when you smell a fertile omega.”
“Mm,” Kenny hummed. “But maybe I could save you when he acts all crazy like that. Two alpha wolves fighting for their little omega.” Snickering, he started tickling Tweek around his middle, only going harder when Tweek squealed for him to stop.
“I thought you were my big brother,” he replied with a playful grin.
“Yeah, well. Some families run in packs, too,” Kenny told him more seriously.
Releasing his back, he brought his hands around to cup Tweek’s face and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. The look in his eyes before he got too close for Tweek to see them anymore and the tenderness of the act had Tweek’s heart racing. Internally, he cursed at himself for this reaction. Why did he have to be so weak, so easily affected?
“Kenny.” Bebe’s voice broke them out of their intimate posture. “Come with me, Tweek.”
“Are you alright?” Kenny asked her, squeezing Tweek’s hand as he let him go over to Bebe.
“Fine,” she replied with a tight-lipped smile. “Please, can you go through the remaining dishes and do anything that’ll help us move through the work quickly?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She was already turning and walking away before Tweek got to her and he hastened to catch up. She didn’t offer her hand or a kind word, but Tweek wasn’t sure he would feel okay accepting either.
Leading him to her bathroom suite again, she told him, “Strip,” and set about pulling a number of products out from under the sink.
The raw nerves churned his stomach as he slowly removed his clothes, but told him, “Don’t worry,” smiling wanly. “I scrubbed the whole thing just now.”
She tapped the ledge of the bed, and he got in, pulling his knees up to his chest as she got the temperature just right and put in the bath stopper.
“I need to apologize to you, Tweek,” she said solemnly as she coaxed his legs down and poured warm water down his body with a crystal cup. She kept her eyes on her task, on his body, but not in a leering way; rather, she was immensely focused, treating the whole thing so seriously that Tweek was reminded of how she’d spoken over her cigarette yesterday.
“Egh? Why?”
He was certain he was the one too stupid to know how to handle himself in the manor; that wasn’t her fault.
“Because,” she started, unscrewing a tub of bath product and scooping out three fingers full, “you’ve really been dropped into the deep end here, and I never would’ve messed around with you like that if I had known…” She trailed off and focused on spreading the paste on his leg, setting his foot on the rim of the bathtub.
He desperately wanted her to finish that though, but she changed course: “This isn’t your fault. And… even though his behavior is horrendous, it’s not really Craig’s either.”
She sighed, and began gently rubbing the scrub in little circles up and down his leg. It felt strange but stimulating and distracted him from any lingering remains of his earlier distress.
“Egh—‘cause he’s an alpha?”
“No, honey, because he’s not a conventional alpha. I’m certain that’s why Kyle chose him. It’s not like I’m told anything specific about Kyle’s affairs, but you know how well I can sniff things out. It’s obvious he’s not valiantly choosing not to mate me or Stan or whomever; he doesn’t have prolific self-control, as I’m sure you’ve experienced firsthand. He just lacks that drive usually, to be drawn to an omega and choose it and mate it.
Tweek mulled that over for a moment before murmuring, “He wouldn’t choose me.”
“You’re the only one he would choose,” she told him, so confidently that it felt like the bottom of his stomach was pulled out. “I think he wants you very badly, and he doesn’t know what to do with that feeling. I think he needs the doctor just as much as Stan did, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to get checked out too. I didn’t know he’d react so strongly, but I should’ve been more careful. I really am sorry, Tweek.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t have even thought about it if I’d known… you really are special to him. It’s not just that you’re piquing his interest, making his weak flame flicker lightly. It’s a roaring fire; he made that very clear in the kitchen.”
“Are you, ah, hurt badly?”
She sighed airily. “I doubt it. I’ll probably just be sore. But we’re going to the doctor tomorrow, all three of us. We’ve all got things that need to be assessed. Not to mention, we’re supposed to be given updates on Stan and there’s been nothing.”
The thought of going to the doctor scared him but he was luckily able to push it from his mind; the anxiety-inducing events of the present day had been overwhelming enough that he was okay sitting in the temporary peace of Bebe’s bathtub when she had no intent to manhandle him.
After she’d finished scrubbing him all over and rinsing him clean, she made him get out and dried him thoroughly with a fluffy towel. He felt like a spoiled house pet and the anxiety he’d begun to experience in her presence specifically was now gone. He was relieved for that at least.
Once he was dry, she wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked it into itself and led him over to the bed. She had an outfit laid out on it.
“Oh! Nngh, is this for me?” There was a light short sleeved shirt with a winsome silk bow, woolen shorts with suspenders, and shiny patent leather shoes.
“Of course it is, honey. I’m wearing a dress. Can you get yourself into this while I get my outfit on? Then I’ll moisturize and beautify us together,” she said cheerfully, like a cloud had lifted. It was as though these rituals brought Bebe a type of peace.
He pulled the shirt on slowly, then the shorts. They fit so perfectly, as did the shoes. The material felt too nice for him, but when Bebe came back over, she seemed pleased.
“Don’t forget the knee socks!” she exclaimed, scurrying off into the other room.
He hadn't known those were for him, the knit finer and nicer on his skin than the wool. He was just adjusting the cuffs under his knees when she came back in with armfuls of products and urged him into her beauty chair.
Closing his eyes, he let her slather as she may. Then came the hair styling, and then finally the makeup, which was far more involved for Bebe. He sat with his eyes closed while she gussied up, trying to focus on breathing evenly to shake out the nerves.
He had almost drifted off when she put her hands on him again, swiping fingers up his cheekbones, over his Cupid's bow, along his brow bone. She rubbed something into his cheeks, then misted him with something, and that was it; they were presentable. He tried to thank her when she had him look at himself in the mirror, but he didn’t recognize that person.
Weakly, he mumbled, “Ack, good job,” and she didn’t push for anything else, just hurried him out of the room and back to their station.
When they reentered the kitchen, Kenny was stirring arborio rice but let out a quiet, “Woah,” upon seeing them.
“Good?” Bebe asked with a cheeky grin.
“You know you look good. But damn, you didn’t have to doll him up so much.” Kenny went over to him and grabbed Tweek’s hands, lifting them up so he could inspect what he was wearing.
“Frankly, I think the tailor assumed he was younger based on his measurements, but it’s cute, right?”
Murmuring in dubious assent, Kenny added, “Maybe a little less cute would be good considering, ah—you know?”
“I had it made this morning,” she said sternly. “Besides, I didn’t even do much on his face. He’s naturally cute. And now, he’s moisturized and his striking features highlighted just a bit. Frankly, I could put him in a burlap sack and muss up his hair and Craig would still be a disaster, so don’t worry about it,” she muttered wryly.
“If you say so…” Kenny did not seem terribly convinced as he continued to survey Tweek’s appearance.
“Kenny, argh, the risotto,” he insisted, not enjoying the two of them acting like he wasn't even there.
“Ah, shit, yeah,” Kenny replied, finally looking Tweek in the eye, with a wrinkle in his brow. He studied him a few moments longer before getting back to the stove. “I got the scallops ready to sear, too.”
Tweek grunted, “Good,” then got Bebe set up to help him with making the endive boats and the salad.
Despite everything, it was all coming together. Kenny had managed the entirety of the entree on his own, and once the vegetable dishes were finished, all they had to do was heat the carrot soup and prepare the ravioli, which would take no time at all.
When Mr. Broflovski got home, he didn’t even have a bad word to say aside from letting out an exasperated, “Where the hell is Craig?”
Bebe was in the middle of offering to retrieve him, when Tweek cut in to say he would instead. He left before anyone could object. If Craig was still angry with him, there was no need to send a scapegoat in his place; he’d see him soon enough.
He was trembling when he reached Craig’s door; his hand was shaking so badly that he needed to take three deep breaths before he was confident enough to knock.
He breathed deeply again, hearing movement from inside the room, looking down and counting how many breaths it took for Craig to open the door—only an additional three, but he didn’t breeze past Tweek, or yell at him again. It was nothing of the sort.
When he dared to look up, Craig was gazing down at him, stuck in place. Even though earlier, he couldn’t have imagined holding Craig’s gaze again, Tweek found he couldn’t look away.
His pupils were like full moons, gleaming and suffused with some emotion that didn’t reach the rest of his face, that Craig could not know how to name or express. It was entrancing, and though he was watching the whole time Craig was reaching out to touch him, Tweek was still surprised when Craig cupped his face in his hands. He breathed in and opened his mouth, then swallowed visibly, and tried to speak again.
Tweek was waiting for him to say something but he seemed unable. He released Tweek’s face and bent over further still, and suddenly Tweek’s feet were dangling off the ground. A surprised noise got stuck in the back of his throat. Craig had one hand cradling the back of his neck but his other arm was braced around Tweek’s lower back, holding him aloft so Craig could bury his face in the crook of his neck.
He breathed in deeply and moved to rub his cheek against Tweek’s neck. Though he was shocked, Tweek felt his nerves instantly dissipate like they had never been there.
Once satisfied with nuzzling his neck, he moved again; Tweek felt the tip of Craig’s nose on his neck, and couldn’t help but quietly murmur Craig’s name. Craig breathed in and out a few more times, holding him tightly, before setting him down.
Once grounded, Tweek found he couldn’t speak anymore, perplexed and overwhelmed by Craig’s odd tenderness after a long day of him being a terrifying menace. He just stared as Craig breathed in the air three more times with his eyes squeezed closed, before opening them but refusing to look at Tweek, and walked away. It took Tweek a good ten seconds to get his bearings and follow, trailing far behind.
“He’s with Kyle in the drawing room,” Bebe informed him before wrinkling her brow. “He scented you,” she murmured.
He was hearing everything she was saying, but Tweek felt in a daze still. The words merely washed over him. When the doorbell rang and she asked him to greet the guests, he was grateful for the task even though he had so feared meeting this brash man everyone had spoken of in such emphatic terms.
When he opened the door, it was immediately obvious who was who. Mr. Broflovski’s old friend the vaudevillian was wearing a gaudy, sequined maroon gown underneath a large white fur coat, which he promptly peeled from his body before tossing it onto Tweek. It was such a heavy coat, Tweek almost toppled right there from the unexpected weight of it coming at him head on but he righted himself at the last second, too stunned to even be offended.
“Why, Eric, that’s not very nice,” his husband lightly scolded, a very serious looking blond man with a tufty mustache and dressed in a well-tailored blue suit. Despite his somewhat imposing presence—he appeared just as tall if not taller than Mr. Broflovski—he spoke in a soft voice inflected with a Southern twang.
“Oh, excuse me,” Mr. Cartman said with a chuckle. “It’s so gaunt, I thought it was the coat rack.”
This was of course meant to hurt him, but Tweek didn’t have thin skin after all those years living in the orphanage. If you reacted, they’d only pick on you harder, because they were bored and not content with their lives and picking on someone weaker was a form of entertainment.
Smiling cordially, Tweek welcomed the two of them as steadily as he could manage and asked the husband if he could take his coat as well. Mr. Cartman huffed at that but flounced away, his tall blond husband in tow once he had given Tweek his coat with a “Thank you kindly.”
Bebe and Kenny came to greet them as well, Kenny setting his charm to maximum strength and escorting them to the drawing room while Bebe took Mr. Cartman’s heavy fur.
She led Tweek to a closet for guests’ garments and hung their coats up. Kenny was back in the kitchen tossing the ravioli in browned butter when they returned. The soup was on the stove, the crisp vegetables were plated and ready, the entree being kept warm. The raspberry tartlets looked perfect. There was nothing logistical to be concerned about, and yet as they walked to the drawing room, Bebe rubbing his shoulder lightly, Tweek felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter.