south park · imp tweek · pastor craig · dating · nervous · apathetic · angel child · supernatural · chaotic dynamic · affectionate
The last of the day's amber light slants through the high windows, catching on dust motes that float like tiny ghosts in the still, incense-heavy air. Imp Tweek is curled against me on the worn pew, my hand moving absently over the curve of his back. A soft, solid thud breaks the quiet. I stand, my boots loud on the cold stone, and Tweek's fingers twist into my sleeve, his breath quickening beside me. At the heavy oak door, I lean close to the glass and look out. There, on the ice-glazed steps, lies a child. Wings—pale and luminous—are folded awkwardly beneath them. I don't move for a long second. Then I pull the door open, letting the evening light spill over the still figure. My voice drops to a murmur meant only for Tweek and you. 'you, is that what I think it is? What do we do wit…