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“Timmy, can you pass the burger buns? I’ll toast your’s and Danny’s,” Spongebob skillfully flips four burgers at once while taking the time to look Timmy in the eyes. It’s equally sick as hell as it is horrifying, Timmy decides. And sweet actually, because Spongebob’s decided to acknowledge Timmy's presence despite literally managing the burgers and cleanup at the same time. He’s just got to be the best chef of the Bikini Bottom.
Timmy tells Spongebob just that while passing him the four pairs of buns. Spongebob is magically somehow keeping track of them alongside the other eight patties grilling.
Spongebob laughs in that familiar way he always does and thanks him too. “Mr. Krabs sure thinks so! He hired me at the best restaurant in the Bikini Bottom, after all!” Spongebob gives a bright and easy smile Timmy’s way.
Timmy can forget how nice it is to just sit around in a kitchen while someone else cooks.
Actually, now thinking about it, Timmy only really likes being in the kitchen when Spongebob or Danny are behind the grill. Timmy would trust Jimmy if he didn’t somehow always manage to set it on fire. Only the “aqueous thermal infusor” is safe with Jimmy, which seems awfully convenient for the often sleep-deprived genius.
Timmy’s been meaning to teach him how to make some basic stuff so he doesn’t starve when he hunkers himself down in his lab. Flashes of him and Jimmy in the kitchen, elbow to elbow, hand on hand, and just…close, pass his mind. Just as quick as warmth rises up his cheeks, Timmy shakes it off. He refocuses on Spongebob working the grill.
There’s really something special about Spongebob running the kitchen. He’s clearly the most experienced with cooking–Jimmy had even designed his lab’s kitchen to be especially paired to Spongebob’s cooking style, and Spongebob doesn’t even live with him—but it's more than that.
Strangely, Spongebob insists on cooking alone in the kitchen for the sake of his friends avoiding his so-called “line cook attitude” back at the Krusty Krab, which Timmy believes he’s over-exaggerating though Danny and Jimmy insist he’s really not. What's even more strange to Timmy is that for all the times he and Sponge have been in the kitchen together, Timmy’s never seen anything but his usual goofy goober self.
“Jimmy doesn’t like his toasted right Timmy?”
Timmy instinctually rolls his eyes and tosses another chip in his mouth. “No, he doesn’t ‘cause he’s a weirdo. Everyone likes their buns toasted!”
Spongebob takes the bag from Timmy’s grasp while flipping another four patties.
“Hey! I was snacking on those!” Timmy protests. He knows what Spongebob will say so he throws in, “they're sea-salted, which Jimmy also doesn’t like because he’s a weird-O.”
Spongebob gives Timmy a knowing look and he gives a sheepish grin in return. “We’re having lunch soon, you can't fill up on snacks just yet.” Timmy playful crosses his arms and pouts, making a big show of it and everything. Spongebob giggles.
“You are right though, Timmy. Only a weird-o doesn’t like sea salted chips! Everything from the sea tastes great!” Spongebob elbows Timmy with a wink, who also giggles in turn. “I guess Jimmy’s just really SALTY about sea salted chips.”
“Noooo that was so bad!” Timmy threw his hands over his face while he laughed, “who taught you that?”
“Danny did!” Spongebob laughs himself, flipping all eight burgers at once, eyes closed and all. “He said you’d find it funny!”
It’s just hard to believe that Spongebob could get mad in the kitchen when the warmth from the grill top fills the room and leaves Timmy with the feeling of being wrapped in a blanket or a tight hug. Spongebob makes it look so easy. He even cleans at the same time so there’s no mess after! He sings and dances, and he lets Timmy sit on the barstool or the countertop across from him. He’ll joke and laugh and make Timmy do the same effortlessly.
Spongebob cheers, “all done!” sometime during Timmy’s observation. He starts plating out each dish. By memory, Spongebob knows what everyone’s preferences are. Timmy watches as Spongebob lays out the ingredients to assemble. Danny’s with lettuce, tomato, pickles, bacon and ketchup. Jimmy’s with just lettuce, bacon, and barbeque sauce. His own with everything but pickles. Timmy’s with nothing but the cheese. It amazes Timmy that Spongebob just knows all of this. It amazes him that he did all of this for them.
Suddenly the hairs on Timmy’s arm go stiff.
Spongebob did all this. He just sat here and watched him do all the work. Timmy didn't lift a single finger. He didn’t even offer to help with clean-up. Spongebob multi-tasked the entire time while he did absolutely nothing. All he did was pass some things over while his friend slaved over the hot skillet making their lunch on his own. Timmy just watched and ate his chips–mocked his hard work, even.
Well, wait! They got to talk a little bit! That was nice, right? Timmy really thought it was, it was really, really nice actually but–what if he was just bothering him? Timmy was the one to start up the conversation most of the time. Spongebob’s so nice, he might’ve felt like he had to reply to Timmy. Was he distracting him and made the whole process that much more difficult? He hadn’t meant to. He really didn’t, but he didn’t really think did he. Why doesn’t he ever learn to think about how other people are feeling and not just how he is? God is he really still that selfish like he was at ten? How long can he be an ignorant kid causing trouble everywhere he goes just because he wants to have some fun?
“Thanks for your help Timmy! You’ve got to be the best assistant in uhhhhh,” Spongebob searches the kitchen, “Jimmy’s entire kitchen!”
Timmy snickers at Spongebob’s momentary flounder.
“You're darn right I am!” He puffs his chest out and jabs his thumb at it in a way he knows will make Spongebob laugh. “They don't call me the best assistant chef this way of Jimmy freaking Neutron’s lab for nothing!”
Spongebob laughs just like Timmy thought he would. The tension in his arms melts gently like the cheese Spongebob lays on the sizzling patties. It smells amazing.
Spongebob grabs all four plates and drinks with practiced ease.
“Ready?”
“Yeah!” Timmy hops from off the barstool and makes to follow. Still feeling a little uneasy after his brief spiral, Timmy catches himself and stops, “Do you need help bringing that over? I could take the drinks or the plates or something.”
Spongebob sends him another easy-going smile. He’d better stop being so nice before Timmy thinks it’s ok to act the way he does. Better yet, Timmy has to start being in charge of his own actions, right? He shouldn’t be putting that responsibility on anyone else but himself.
“I…”
Timmy struggles to get the words out when Spongebob looks at him in such a friendly way, like he holds no grievance or malice for his shortcomings. It makes Timmy that much more nervous to disappoint him.
He’s better now than when he was as a kid, so he should be better. He needs to prove he’s not that selfish, self-focused little ten year old asshole anymore. He needs to own up to his mistakes.
“Spongebob…I’m,” Timmy’s throat clicks. He can’t even bring himself to look past his own shoes. He’s been making Spongebob wait this whole time for what. He has owned up to his mistakes in the past, hasn’t he? He tried to fix them, even if it was with the help of Cosmo and Wanda. So why is it so hard to get out now to his good, close friend?
“It’s ok, Timmy.” Spongebob sets down the plates with a soft clink. He doesn't break a sweat. “Take your time bubble buddy, I’ll wait, it’s ok.” He makes kindness and being a good person look so easy. He let Timmy occupy space in the kitchen beside him and he made it look easy.
Timmy owes at least this.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Spongebob. I should have helped you and done some of the work, too.” Timmy puts on a brave face–he clenches his fists tight and forces his chin up. Spongebob shouldn't have to wait for him to catch up to his age. “And I really, really appreciate you letting me hang with you while you cooked and stuff.”
Looking back up at Spongebob, Timmy can see the moment his expression shifts. It looks like, surprise? Or confusion? Definitely not the hatred and disdain he was expecting. Spongebob’s eyebrows nearly hit the roof and it causes the pit in Timmy’s stomach to sink past the floor.
Oh. This is worse, somehow. Timmy didn’t think he was really that bad. Then again, he’s almost fourteen and still making these careless, inconsiderate mistakes. If that's Spongebob’s reaction…
“So. Um.”
‘It doesn't matter’, Timmy thinks, ‘this isn’t anything new, you know you have to do better and you will.’ Timmy clutches each of his hands in front of him. ‘You have to. Or you’ll lose them before you even lose your godparents.’ He squeezes his elbows rigid and cranes his neck straight back to his slippers. ‘Just like mom and dad.‘
“Timmy?” It comes out low from Spongebob. Timmy can’t make out his tone clearly without seeing his face nor with the sound of his heart beating somewhere in the background.
It’s easy to fall back into form. The way he’s learned to avoid the wrath of an angry caretaker. How to win back the trust of the parents she lies to. It’s like a special power he learned somewhere along the way, a second skin he can slip into when he needs to hide the softer part of him. But it doesn’t mean it’s comfortable. The muscles of his forearms and shoulders ache from tension and his chest hurts from constriction.
But he’ll do what it takes, it’s only a moment. ‘You have no choice but to earn it back.’ A quick moment to present himself as small and vulnerable as he can without showing too much of himself. ‘Whatever..it is.’
“Thank you. Sincerely.”
Timmy holds his stance as steady as he can. He can feel the anxiety creeping up with every passing second Spongebob doesn’t react. The result comes by now, by shout, hand, or cold indifference. There’s always the sting of pain, the wounds he has to lick on his own. And that’s how it always goes. Spongebob is an adult and Timmy lets himself get too comfortable like he always does. The inescapable loop Timmy finds himself in that he just can't manage to break free from. But he can fix it quickly, they just need to get over the next part and he’ll go back to being average and unimportant and in the peripheral, but safe.
It’s just this hurdle. Timmy knows that. He knows this.
He still flinches when Spongebob’s hand lands on his shoulder anyways. “Timmy…” It’s almost done.
“You don't have to apologize for anything.”
Timmy can’t stop his eyes from shooting up to meet Spongebob’s. He’s somehow more surprised to see Spongebob smiling at him, the same as ever.
“You helped me out a lot! You passed me some ingredients when I needed them and kept me company,” Spongebob says as if Timmy’s world isn’t falling apart beneath his feet. Like everything he relied on at home wasn’t being ripped away from him in less than a second.
Spongebob just continues smiling along somehow.
“Jimmy and Danny are usually busy before dinner, but I have so much fun talking with you! You’re one of my funniest friends–besides Squidward and Patrick, of course! Actually, you’d really get along with Sandy, now that I think about it! I know you met at the volcano but a while back but you’d really get along! You’re both really strong and sweet and say funny things and care about your friends and–barnacles! I’m getting ahead of myself.”
Timmy tries to keep up with Spongebob, he really does. Spongebob must be able to tell that he got a little lost along the way because he suddenly pauses to squeeze Timmy’s shoulder.
“What I mean to say is,” Timmy’s even more lost when the squeeze is somehow softer than Spongebob’s smile, “I should be thanking you, Timmy.”
Timmy can hardly process what Spongebob is saying. His brain can’t keep up with the back-to-back curveballs. Alarm bells are ringing and the only thought in his mind is that one wrong step will send him back to square one. Timmy can’t bring himself to move his mouth and ask ‘what the heck is going on?!’ but his vision is still solid, so he relies on that.
What he sees is…that Spongebob’s eyes are kind. Maybe pained from the labor of the day and dealing with Timmy’s last second attempt at apologizing, he thinks, but kind beyond it all. The corners even crease where they always do when he smiles. Timmy’s head hurts from the contradiction. This isn’t how this goes.
But it seems to be the truth; Spongebob isn’t upset with him.
It’s just not fair how easy it looks.
Spongebob, from lack of response, rubs Timmy’s shoulder. There’s a few pats before the hand is pulled away.
It feels like he’s finally come to a verdict.
“If you really want to, you can put away the skillet in the sink. That’s all that’s left, anyways. Just run it under water so it’s easier to clean later,” Spongebob offers. There’s a brief pause before he adds, “It’d be a super duper help!”
Timmy’s relief nearly causes his whole body to sag.
“Yeah–you got it, SB! No problemo. Just leave it to the skillet putting it in the sink uh, putting the skillet in the skin master,” Timmy says it with his usual charm despite the silly fumble. Where he expects Spongebob to laugh, he gets a weird smile and that pained look again. Maybe it wasn’t his smoothest. Timmy finds himself laughing awkwardly to fill the momentary silence, hand reaching for the back of his neck out of instinct. The part connecting his neck to his shoulder will need a rub later, he thinks, but it’s nothing he hasn’t practiced before. A small price to pay for normalcy. “Are you sure about the plates and cups?”
Spongebob collects them all in one swoop before Timmy can even take a step in their direction.
“Don’t worry about it!” Timmy watches as Spongebob makes his way towards the living room, just in case he changes his mind. “They don't call me the best cook this side of Jimmy freaking Neutron’s lab for nothing!”
Spongebob’s out the door and the kitchen but not before shooting Timmy a quick wink and a silly smile.
“What was that about my lab?”
Jimmy calls into the kitchen from the living room. Timmy takes a second to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, Timmy can practically see him sitting down despite the wall, the same end of the couch he always sits on, because Jimmy Neutron’s consistent and reliable like that. Timmy’s sure he can hear the last second tinkering from here if he concentrates hard enough, but then footsteps follow.
It’s Danny’s footsteps that follow, and they're right on cue.
“Hey SB, what we got cooking for dinner?”
Timmy has them memorized to the point of knowing when he has his regular sneakers on and when he has those fugly shrek-green crocs he insists aren’t as fugly as they are. “Oooooh burgers! I'm starving.”
Timmy relishes in knowing them so well. Spongebob will pass the plates around and Danny will have devoured his first burger before Spongebob even finishes. Jimmy will remark about Danny’s lack of basic manners and then thank Spongebob. He’ll then whine and complain until Timmy sits next to him so he can devour his burger next.
This is good. They’re back to normal. He opens his eyes.
Before Timmy can join the good natured conversation and “team family time” as Spongebob and Danny have started calling it, he has a skillet to put away. He is the master of skillet in the sink putting it after all–forget it! He approaches Spongebob’s recreated Krusty Krab workstation.
Timmy can feel the heat still radiating off of the skillet from Spongebob’s expert work. Carefully, he grabs the end of the handle, one hand over the other and far from the other end. It’s a little heavier than Timmy expected and the heat is transferring up all the way to the handle to the point where he feels the need to pull his hand away, but Timmy soldiers on to the sink. What was he supposed to do again at the sink?
Right. Run it under water. Simple task. He’s got it. He’s focused.
He’s so focused that he can make out some of the voices coming from the couch.
“Whose turn is it to pick again? Is it…”
“...already know that, Danny, don’t look so smug…please don't suggest Sofia the First…not again.”
“I’ll have you know…and Sofia is kind and compassionate and…she does not! She’s nothing like…she doesn’t remind me of ti…aybe! Fine! A little…ugh don't side with him SB.”
“Where is Timmy, Sponge…I thought…he’s taking forever.”
At hearing his name, Timmy jumps. He’s still standing in front of the sink. The skillet handle’s probably slowly cooking his fingers at this rate. What does he need fingerprints for again? Jimmy would probably say something about–no! He’s supposed to be focused. Right, focused. Timmy carefully worms one of his hands off the handle, the other shifting to take on the added weight. The last thing he wants to do is drop it and dent it or something when his mind is wandering off.
Timmy considers just tossing it in the sink, turning on his heel and joining the fun but he sees the dishes and bowls Spongebob already put in while he was cooking. Timmy’s kinda upset with himself for not remembering, he was so caught up in talking with Spongebob. He literally watched him shape the beef and season it and everything from the start.
Actually, he did have to leave the room once, when Spongebob wanted to add the “secret” ingredient. Timmy said he would close his eyes and turn away but Spongebob insisted, like really, really insisted. It seemed important to him but Timmy’s not really sure why. He exited the kitchen anyways, it only took like two minutes, but his curiosity was eating at him the entire time. Maybe it was something weird like cinnamon. Or cilantro so Danny doesn’t know it’s in there. Or maybe a special like, underwater seasoning. How do the residents of Bikini Bottom even season things under water? Probably the same way they cook things. Yeah that makes sense. Maybe he can ask Spongebob what it was after they eat. Knowing Spongebob, it’s probably actually something corny like “love” or whatever, but he’s sure Spongebob won’t mind telling him. He’s nice to Timmy like that.
Maybe too nice.
“...and Timmy was there the whole time!” Spongebob’s cheer reaches the kitchen. Timmy’s brought back the echo of Spongebob’s voice squeaky voice. He’s focused! It’s just one task, c’mon, Turner!
Timmy readjusts his grip trying really hard to concentrate but it’s actually starting to kinda really burn now. He keeps getting distracted and the skillet doesn’t seem to be cooling off in the slightest. He better get a move on before he actually loses his fingerprints and causes Jimmy to freak out on him about how important they are or whatever. Or tell him that he should get diagnosed for ADHD. Again. Or–
Focus! Timmy reaches out towards the sink’s handle to turn on the water, keeping a steady eye on the end he’s holding out of fear of his grip failing him.
“...aww thanks Danny! You should wait for him to join us first…”
The water runs steadily but noisily while he manuevers, hoping to ease the sting with his other hand. Holding a hot skillet with one hand was proving to be more difficult with each second. Spongebob had no trouble when he did it, he’s got this. Despite the sink’s tap running at full speed, Spongebob’s voice still rings clear over it.
“...Timmy helped me make them!”
The skillet flounders in Timmy’s hand and he fumbles while he tries to re-steady his grip. ‘I didn’t do squat! Why is he-’ Timmy’s thoughts are suddenly cut by his own cry of surprise.
The skillet drops the short fall into the sink and the sound must’ve even shaken the walls with how loud the ringing is in Timmy’s head.
‘No no no no no no–’
Timmy scrambles to pick it up and see the damage he’s caused. He’s not sure if Spongebob will forgive him a second time if all the glasses just broke–the skillet falls into the sink again. Timmy’s hand instinctively comes to squeeze his wrist.
It burns, bad.
“You good, Timmy?” He somehow hears Danny over the sharp, throbbing sting engulfing his fingers and thumb. His eyes are filling with tears against his will, throat closing up as he wheezes.
“Did something fall?”
Timmy runs to the freezer to grab ice for his scalded fingers. He can’t tell if that's making it worse or not. The ice is literally melting on his fingertips which only seem to throb more in response. Timmy risks a look at the injury. He can see the red and white pulsing where he’ll probably get a blister.
Timmy untightens his throat.
“It was nothing!” Timmy hears himself reply before he can think of something else to say. What, is he supposed to just tell them he stupidly got himself burned because he can’t focus for the life of him? That he was given one simple task and he couldn’t even do it right? After he already messed up with Spongebob? Between the bang from the skillet falling in the sink and the burn across his fingertips, Timmy feels like he’s made entirely of adrenaline. The only thing in his soul right now is panic and dread, the feeling that he’s walking on thin ice. He doesn’t think he can handle having to sit through being yelled at while his hand is already screaming at him too.
“Alright, you’ve taken long enough Turner, the food’s starting to get cold. Don’t make me come and drag you over–”
“No!”
Timmy shouts it louder than he means to. It’s so hard to think. He wants to run away from the pain so badly. If only he could detach his hand from his body he thinks, like a child would, but he knows the pain will only follow him. His mind is crying for Cosmo and Wanda to wish it away or for them to just be here with him. He bites his tongue instead.
The childish urge is still there anyways.
“I-I’m,” Timmy uncurls his body away from his hand and puffs out his chest, “I’ll be one sec! I’m grabbing the ketchup,” Timmy lies without trying. He does it as easily as Spongebob cooks eight burgers at once. “Just gimme a minute.”
Timmy takes a deep breath and closes the freezer. He wipes the tracks off his face with the back of his hands. Right.
Timmy, one handed, removes the skillet from the sink. With a sudden burst of strength, he holds it under the still running water and places it on the stovetop without moving his other hand. Distantly, he wonders if it’s the adrenaline still or if he should’ve been able to do that from the start.
He returns to the sink and cups water with his uninjured hand. The splashes his face and fans at his eyes. Hovering over the sink, Timmy considers checking the dishes to see what had broken but the thought of seeing it makes his stomach crash through the floor. Instead he snatches the ketchup bottle and a paper towel.
Here we go.
Timmy hits the light switch the second he opens the door.
“Hey! How am I gonna see where I’m putting the ketchup?”
“Just turn it on.” Timmy says it through gritted teeth. He says it as normal sounding as he possibly can.
Thankfully, he has practically memorized every detail of the living room and his friend’s habits so he tosses the ketchup at Danny’s lap and makes his way to his end of the couch without tripping over anything. Quickly sitting down, he grabs his plate and passes it to his hand holding the paper towel and carefully maneuvers his fingers so they aren’t touching anything but remain hidden under it all.
Timmy resists the urge to bounce his knee.
“Whatever. Brat.” Danny huffs in that older brother kinda way. Timmy bites his tongue from snapping back and taking out his own accident on Danny. Instead, the instinctual eyeroll comes first, then the fuzzy feeling that fills Timmy’s chest second. It’s a familiar feeling he tries to ground himself on. It almost makes him forget the pain for a moment.
Almost.
“Your parents didn't text you, did they?” a southern voice to his right asks, hushed. In the background, Spongebob is profusely apologizing for not adding enough ketchup and Danny insists it's alright.
Glancing over, Timmy sees the source of the voice beside him in his usual spot. His burgers remained untouched while he waited for him to arrive.
Timmy’s not surprised that Jimmy waited. He’s not even surprised he asked. Jimmy analyzes things, searches for answers to the questions that constantly run through his mind. That’s just what Jimmy does. What does surprise Timmy is what Jimmy thinks is the case, that he even suspects his parents had been the source of his delay. Was he really that obvious when he was upset about something? His stomach does that sinking thing again.
“Nah, it was just joe.”
“Joe..?” Neutron leads on in a hurry, always impatient and to the point.
“Joe mama,” Timmy snickers before taking a big bite of his burger. Maybe that will stop his mouth from doing stupid things.
When the screen flickers to the pirating website they’re screen-sharing from Danny’s computer, Timmy feels a pair of eyes observing him. Not only is Jimmy not amused, he doesn’t seem to be satisfied with that answer, and Jimmy never accepts an answer he isn’t satisfied with.
‘He will know. Somehow, he will know. Don’t. Look.’ Timmy refuses to match his eye contact out of pure fear. He types as fast as he can with only his left hand, napkin and plate in the other.
‘Be strong, Turner. Don’t let yourself get distracted again! Not even by the deep, cobalt eyes staring into his eyes. Don’t think about how they get when he’s thinking, the intensity of his when he works on a new project he’s particularly passionate about. How striking they look when he’s mentally picking something apart. Or the way they–’
“Turner,” comes the whisper from his right. Just as he recognizes it as the very person he’s trying to pointedly ignore right now, he’s reminded of the searing pain all over again. He had gotten so distracted he really forgot about it. Hey, that’s a good idea! Maybe he should try getting lost in the idea of Jimmy’s eyes again–
”What happened?” Jimmy nudges his shoulder gently while he moves closer to ensure Timmy is hearing him. The warmth it brings is a nice contrast to what feels like his hand boiling from the inside out, “you seem a little–”
Before he can finish, Timmy clicks a button and the tv flashes brightly again, blinding them all. A song starts playing.
‘I was a girl in the village doing alright / Then I became a princess overnight / Now I gotta figure out how to do it right…’
“Oh it’s Sofia the first! Good pick Timmy, we were just talking about how she reminds of Danny of y-”
“Spongebob!” Danny rushes before Spongebob can finish.
“Danny!” Jimmy complains, effectively distracted, throwing his hands in the air.
“What are you saying my name for, I didn’t do anything!”
“Oh for the love of science!”
“Look I didn’t say anything bad about your stupid dumb energy synthology–the documentary or whatever!” Danny tries to get in Jimmy’s face but is just barely making it from the corner of the sofa, only squishing Spongebob in the process. “So I don't wanna hear it! Sofia’s my girl–”
“You complained the entire time! At least it was educational and not–this!” Jimmy argued, also leaning from over Spongebob to get in Danny’s face. If he wasn’t sitting between them, they’d probably be at each other’s throats. “And you just did!”
“I didn’t say anything bad about it, just that it’s stupid and dumb!” Danny made a grab at Jimmy but his force bounced off of Spongebob, causing the couch to jump in place. “And she IS educational! While she learns what it means to be a princess and have powers, she teaches us how to be kind and strong and the power of friendship–”
“I love the power of friendship!” Spongebob exclaims, waving his arms excitedly in the air.
“We know, Spongebob,” Jimmy and Danny say at the same time, deflating back in their seats. Spongebob sends them both an innocent, big eyed look. “We love the power of friendship too” they say in unison. Finally calm, they settle in the couch.
‘I’m finding out what being royal’s all about’
“You know, you could learn a thing or two from Sofia, Neutron–”
The couch erupts again.
“Holy Heisenberg, Fenton, when I get my hands on you–”
Timmy isn’t sure when he loses the conversation, getting so focused on not reacting to the searing agony across his fingers. He can’t tell what’s coming from the show or Danny and Jimmy. At some point, the dread in his stomach had completely consumed him, then disappeared all together. Sometimes, the couch will shift and shake but he’s so far away from himself he can’t really tell if he’s making it up or not. He’s not even sure how long it’s been anymore.
The couch dips and there’s suddenly a pressure on him. With a startled gasp, Timmy is pulled back into reality. The tv is black and the glasses are empty on the table. He looks at his own plate and finds it empty. Huh. He doesn’t remember eating. It’s disappointing, he was really looking forward to eating his burgers. Spongebob always makes the best burgers.
Timmy looks past his empty plate at the napkin covering his hand from view. Oh. Oh yeah. His hand. Well, he’s not upset he missed the–oh. Yeah, there’s a pulsing sensation under the napkin. It’s familiar. Yeah..yeah! That’s what it is! It’s his blood under his skin. Boiling. His painful, painful boiling blood. Or maybe it’s the skin itself. Either way, the pulsating is present again and slowly returning to full force now that he’s aware of it. Man, maybe it’s gotten worse? Well. That sucks.
“-immy? Are you listening? What happened, did I startle you? Are you alright, I don’t thinl–” Jimmy’s rushing voice is the next thing he’s aware of as he tunes back to his surroundings. He looks towards the voice and finds a hand on his shoulder. Jimmy’s hand. Oh. It makes sense now, that’s the pressure. He follows the hand up his arm and to his face. Timmy feels his heart stop in his throat.
Jimmy’s deep, dark, unending ocean blue eyes are staring at his. They’re so blue, he thinks, he might even drown in them. Like an ocean, or the sea! A salty sea! A laugh bubbles out of his own mouth. That’s something Spongebob would say! Until it registers that those eyes are looking at him…like really, really looking at him. Trying to pick him apart and put him back together. Trying to rip apart the second skin he’s grown all the way down to the one that’s scorching his mind right now. Oh. Oh!
With the pain back completely, Timmy rips his shoulder away from Jimmy’s hand, protectively covering the napkin from Jimmy’s view with his arm. He sees the way Jimmy startles and forces his own face to untighten.
“What was that fudge-head? Something about..?” Timmy says casually. The look in Jimmy’s eyes doesn’t fade like he hoped it would. He looks even more concerned now.
Jimmy uncomfortably looks at anything but him, “I asked you if you were done eating so Spongebob could collect your plate and wash it,” Timmy watches as his eyes settle on Timmy’s empty plate, “but you weren’t responding and–”
“I can do it!”
Timmy shoots off of the couch to collect the plates from the table. He snatches Jimmy’s plate from his hand before the genius can form the words he’s trying very hard to mentally proofread. Stacking the cups next, he leaves Danny’s who somehow feel asleep holding his cup, neck resting on the back of the couch.
Before Timmy can protest, Spongebob returns to the living room and collects the cups from him, a blanket on his arm. “Oh don't worry about it timmy, I’ll wash them!”
Timmy’s eyes search the living room desperately. He tosses the nearest pillow at Danny’s face.
“Huh, hey! Whas happenin?”
At Spongebob’s surprised face, Timmy finds the sinking feel return so he gestures to Danny’s groggy face. “He’s gonna wake up with a knot in his neck if he keeps sleeping on the couch. Why don’t you make him sleep on the guest bed instead?”
Spongebob smiles so brightly Timmy has to look away entirely. He feels the sinking feeling all the same.
“No one makes me do nothin..” Danny complains with his eyes closed while Spongebob pulls him up to lean on him, wrapping the blanket around him.
“Sure thing, old man.”
“Pipsqueak,” Danny calls at him while he and Spongebob make their way out of the living room towards Jimmy’s guest rooms.
Timmy picks up the stack of cups Spongebob just so happened to leave behind.
He starts to make his way to the kitchen when Jimmy blocks his path to the door. Still glancing around the room, Jimmy searches for the words he wants to articulate. Timmy’s own search lands his eyes on the invention atop of the living room table, wires strewn about. Jimmy was probably working on it all day and then brought it to tinker with after dinner, as per usz. He never did like sitting around without something to do with his hands.
Bingo.
“Turner..you..I think..did you..were-”
“Hey what’s that?” Timmy replaces the cups with the invention on the table. He brings it to his nose to inspect it closely.
Just as quickly as he grabbed it, it’s snatched away from him. “Hey, be careful with that Turner!”
“Why what is it?” Timmy asks, grabbing the cups from behind his back.
“It’s a synthetic lumination jumbler device, and–”
Timmy interrupts him before he can really get started, “how close are you to finishing?”
“Oh, um. Maybe a few more hours..” Timmy watches as Jimmy stares at the device in his hand. He sees Jimmys right eye twitch while the rest of his face is stoic.
Gottem.
“Actually. I just need to calibrate the mainframe and enhance the augmentation settings and then, actually, I also want to calibrate the enhancer but I need to find the parts for it first. Maybe it’s better if..” Jimmy starts mumbling to himself while his genius brain starts going back in overdrive. He does it all the way back to his lab. Timmy waits until he hears the telltale sound of the laboratory doors closing. Timmy sighs in relief.
Right. He can deal with this now.
Timmy leaves the quiet living room, cups and dishes in injured and non-injured hand. He pushes the door to the kitchen open with his hip and doesn’t stop until he’s reached the sink.
He sets the cups down first. Transfers the plates to his good hand, then sets them down next to the cups. He looks down.
Shards of their plates and glasses litter the bottom of the sink.
Timmy starts sobbing.
In the quiet, quiet kitchen, Timmy cries over the sink filled with the evidence of his stupidity. It’s not loud like his pain, but it’s ugly all the same. He can still hear the harsh intake of breath he takes before his chest constricts tightly, mouth opening and closing silently. Tears flow down his cheeks into his mouth and the sink.
Unable to bear being this close to his mistakes, Timmy backs away until he hits the middle countertop. He sinks down until he meets the floor and closes in on himself, crawling back into his second skin.
He can’t fix this.
To act as fair punishment, his fingers continue scorching him as if he keeps putting them on the skillet over and over again. Timmy doesn’t think it’s fair of him to want it to stop but it hurts so, so bad and he doesn’t know what to do anymore.
He wishes Cosmo and Wanda were here with him. He wishes he could ask them to take away the pain, heal the blisters already bubbling to the surface. Sit with him and wipe his tears.
He doesn’t say it outloud. He doesn’t want anyone to see him.
The kitchen door swings open with a terrible creak.
Timmy can’t bring himself to his feet before yellow fills his vision.
“Timmy?”
Spongebob stands carefully by the doorway, one hand holding a cup, Danny’s cup. Oh. Timmy had forgotten Danny took his with him. How silly of him.
They start at each other for a moment. SpongeBob holds the door handle with his other hand gingerly, like he’s scared to break something.
Timmy cries loudly, now.
He tries to scrub at his eyes with his good hand as if that will stop things from looking the way they do. As if he can make himself look less pathetic and tormentable. When he hears the sound of a glass clinking against the counter top, Timmy throws his hand over his mouth. SpongeBob stands before the sink, seeing what Timmy had done.
He doesn’t say anything when he approaches Timmy. instead, he’s quiet when he slides down to sit next to him.
Timmy stiffens, his scorched hand close to his chest protected. Spongebob must’ve noticed because Timmy can tell he’s purposefully not getting too close to his personal space. It makes Timmy feel worse, somehow.
He needs to stop. It's time to stop. He can salvage this, he can if he really, really tries.
Still staring at the ground in front of him, in front of them, Timmy shuts his mouth close and forces himself to breath through his nose. It's noisy and quick. He hopes Spongebob doesn’t find that even more annoying.
“Do you want your parents?” asks the voice besides him, gently. Timmy’s so focused on his breathing he barely heard it.
Feeling as though he owes the sponge a response, Timmy tries to calm down enough to speak. When he’s unable to, he shakes his head instead. It’s a bit harsher than he meant to but Spongebob gets the message all the same.
“What about Cosmo and Wanda?”
Timmy really does want them.
“They’re,” he forces his voice between hiccups and heaves, “they’re visiting Mama, Mama Cosma,” he tries not to cry at the thought, he wants them here so, so bad, “they’ve been so tired with poof and, and–”
Spongebob hushes him softly. Timmy didn’t notice his breathing getting worse until Spongebob intervened. He needs to get himself under control already.
“I'm sure Jimmy has a gizmo that can heal burns quick, I’ll ask him to-”
“Please don't,” Timmy cuts him off. He winces at his own rudeness. “Don’t bother him, please, I just,” he takes a deep breath, “I’ll-I’ll deal with it on my own. It’ll go away.” Timmy says it with the years of practice and experience he had no choice but to earn.
Spongebob doesn’t seem to be convinced like Timmy thought he would.
“It looks bad, Timmy.” Timmy sees the yellow hand reaching for his injured one.
His shoulder hits the wall of the counter with a loud thud from how fast he got out of reach. Spongebob pulls back his own hands slowly.
“We need to treat it,” he shows them held up to Timmy as if to communicate that he won’t move them again. Timmy finds it strangely comforting. “Was it from the skillet?”
Timmy’s embarrassed to say. He turns his face away from Spongebob in shame. He has to rip off the bandaid. Its too late now.
“I-I dropped it, when I was…I broke all the dishes,” he tries not to start crying again after going through all the trouble of calming down, “I’m so sorry Spongebob. I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”
Spongebob doesn’t respond. Timmy can’t even look at him to see his reaction.
“Please,” Timmy doesn’t even know what he’s asking for anymore. He just wants it to stop.
Squeaky shoes cross the kitchen towards the door. It opens, then closes. Timmy isn’t able to stop the tears from overflowing again.
The door swings open suddenly, and Timmy is so caught off guard he instinctually looks to the source. Sponegbob’s back in the kitchen. He releases the breath he was holding and heaves wetly. Spongebob already saw what he did, why is he back?
A first aid kit is presented at Timmy’s feet. Spongebob doesn’t hesitate to sit beside him again and rummage through it.
“Can I have your hand Timmy?”
Finally looking at Spongebob’s face, Timmy doesn’t see anger. No, instead he sees concern and…sadness. There’s not a single ounce of annoyance or cold disinterest. In fact, Timmy even recognizes the expression. It's the same one he has when Jimmy spends days in his lab, not doing anything but his work. The same one he has when Danny returns to the lab and passes out on the couch from pure exhaustion.
“I just want to put some burn cream and dressing. I promise that's it.” It’s genuine. “I won’t do it if you don't want, I can leave it here for you. But I want to help.” It’s familiar. “Is that ok?”
Timmy waits a moment before he lays his hand in Spongebob’s.
He gets to work.
Spongebob’s hands are gentle. They are careful and open and slow. Timmy watches as he applies the burn cream. He expects it to hurt so he tenses up. It does hurt, but not because of Spongebob. He rubs it on delicately.
“I’ve gotten burned a couple times working at the Krusty Krab.” Spongebob leaves a moment for Timmy to say something if he wants. Hiccups and tears fill the room but Timmy keeps his hand in Spongebob’s open palm.
He continues, “I always felt so silly for letting myself get hurt like that.”
Timmy exhales when Spongebob finishes with the cream. “R-really?”
“Yup. Everyone makes mistakes!” Spongebob begins working on the dressing with the same care as he gave with the cream. “I still do, everyday! They just happen sometimes!”
Timmy doesn’t know what to say, so he just watches the methodical way Spongebob wraps each finger.
It’s silent for a while. Spongebob finishes wrapping the last finger and expects his hand to be returned. Palm still open, Spongebob holds Timmy’s hand so he can pull it away whenever he wants. He could force Timmy to rip his eyes away from the bandages and make him listen if he wanted.
Instead, he waits for Timmy to look up at him.
“You’re just a kid, Timmy. You’re allowed to make mistakes.” He says it like it’s true. “Heck, even as an adult! Mistakes are just a part of learning and…I love learning every day!”
Spongebob presents Timmy with his bandaged hand, smiling brightly and sweet.
“But…I broke-”
“I’m not worried about the dishes, Timmy.” He can hear what Spongebob’s saying without him having to.
‘I’m worried about you.’
“Thank you for letting me help you, Timmy.”
Timmy nearly does a double take. Thank you? As if Timmy had done anything? He should be the one thanking Spongebob!
Planning to tell Spongebob this and shake the nonsense out of him, Timmy opens his mouth to do so. This has to be some kind of joke or sarcasm or–
“Sincerely. Thank you.”
He says it with the harshness of calluses caressing an undeniable truth, so, so tenderly, and he presents it to Timmy to accept if he wants, palms open.
“Oh.”
It’s hard to process.
Timmy looks over his hand. He flexes his fingers and hisses when it stings. The pain is still there but it’s not so unbearable anymore.
Spongebob did a good job. Spongebob does a good job everyday. He tries. He learns. He does better.
Maybe he can learn something new today, too.
“Can I ask you something, Spongebob?”
“Anything!”
Timmy takes a deep breath. “I was wondering…”
Spongebob’s calm smile doesn’t change when he hesitates. He continues.
“Um, whats the secret ingredient? For the patties? I know I left the room and all so I wouldn't see it but…”
He feels silly asking, but he’s been dying to know since he thought of it. Timmy tries not to sound too hopeful but he is. Spongebob is the kindest person he knows. No one else is a better friend than him, not after he did all this for Timmy. “Would you tell me?”
“No.”
Sponegbob’s response is quick. Final. It sounds serious. Timmy realizes that he looks serious too, having turned to face him in his surprise.
“Oh..”
Timmy can’t help but deflate. He’s sure his disappointment is written all over his face but he was so taken aback he can’t even try to hide it. So this is it huh? He finally lost Spongebob of all people. The literal sweetest sea sponge in all of Bikki Bottom. Of course he would want to treat his injury. That doesn’t mean he’s earned anything back.
Actually, he doesn’t even know where to begin earning back…their entire relationship now. Forget team team family time, his whole friendship just went out the window. And he did this to himself.
Timmy tries not to dig his nails into his palms any further than he already has.
“Oh! Uh, it-its cool. Sorry SB, I just thought–”
“I would never tell you.”
Timmy almost flinched at Spongebob’s tone. He sounds as if Plankton of all people had tried asking for the secret ingredient.
“No, no, there was no pressure!” Timmy waves his hands in front of him desperately. His injured hand protests in response so he stops to hold it.
Spongebob’s expression hadn’t changed but the tone set alarm bells ringing again. He needs to get himself out of this mess and quick before it gets ugly. ‘He’s still an adult, Spongebob’s still an adult why does he keep forgetting? Why does he never learn?’
“I didn’t mean to like-”
“No matter how many times you’d asked, no matter how many times you’d demand or threaten, I would never, ever, tell you.”
Spongebob must’ve seen how he froze because he shows both his hands, palms faced up again.
“I wouldn’t, because it’s a secret. And I was trusted with this secret to keep it safe,” Spongebob explains, holding his hands to his chest. “It is precious and important and means so much to the person who shared it with me.”
“Nothing, and I mean nothing, Timmy, will stop me from protecting this secret with all my heart. Because that’s what you do with secrets.”
Spongebob offers his open palm to Timmy once again.
“You can be a secret, Timmy.”
Timmy finally feels in control of his body, the sensation of his face and fingers returning all at once.
This is good. He can start fixing this now. He’ll have to think quick and act now if he wants to salvage whatever is left of Spongebob’s trust and general interest in him is left. He has to say something, something really smart or important to get him back.
“What?”
Timmy wants to burn himself all over again. Vicky isn’t needed for this one, nope, he’s got this all on his own. But before Timmy can put action to feeling, Spongebob continues.
“You don’t have to hide or change how you are because you think we’ll treat you differently if we see. We love you for you, Timmy.”
Spongebob says it so…so strongly but not cruelly. He says it and leaves absolutely no room for argument but with no room for anything but love, either.
“If you want to be a secret, you don’t have to share,” Spongebob continues. “You don’t have to share with your teachers, your friends, your babysitter, or even me, Danny, and Jimmy. Not even goddard if you wanted,” he smiles at Timmy but his eyes don’t crinkle. It’s familiar but it’s contradicting everything he knows. He’s never experienced this. Timmy can’t even bring himself to breathe but Spongebob remains undeterred. “Even your parents.”
Maybe Spongebob’s trying to teach him something. Maybe the secret ingredient wasn’t so important, after all.
Timmy considers what Spongebob’s offering him, calluses, tenderness, and all. The kindness he makes look so easy. As if it’s easy to let Timmy sit in the kitchen with him.
It’s just so hard to believe.
But maybe Timmy can learn this, if Spongebob’s willing to teach him.
“You don’t have to share with anyone you don’t want to. Even if you just want to be a secret with Cosmo and Wanda. That's ok”
Maybe…maybe the dishes weren’t as important as he thought it was.
“Me, Danny, and Jimmy…we want you to just be yourself. But I promise, secret or not, you will always,” Spongebob squeezes his hand and it feels like a hug, “always, be safe with me.”
Timmy’s face hurts from how hard he’s crying. It’s contradicting, the unfiltered joy pouring down his face. It’s something he’s never known.
Timmy hugs SpongeBob so tightly he thinks he must be squeezing the life out of him. Arms wrap around him just as tight.
Somehow, he doesn’t think Spongebob minds.
“You—you promise?”
“I pinky promise.” Spongebob smiles, eyes crinkling and all.
Maybe adults aren’t all so bad anyways.