Work Text:
SpongeBob stood facing the bathroom mirror, fingers maneuvering his crimson tie into its usual Windsor knot, pulled slightly tighter than it had been the day before. He shifted his gaze to the mirror's edge, studying the familiar ridges of the shells holding it together, then slowly over to his reflection.
His round blue eyes appeared a bit greyer today and were slightly sunken, subtle bags hugging his lower lashes. His square buck teeth were not quite as pearly white as he last remembered, and his spongey skin appeared dry even in the moisture of his habitat.
"I'm ready," he offered with a weak smile.
SpongeBob plodded downstairs to the kitchen and pulled opened the doors of the pantry containing his favorite snail's favorite slop, reaching inside without looking to grab a can from one of its tidy stacks. He swatted his hand confusedly from side to side when he felt no such object within reach.
"Huh? I know they're in here..." SpongeBob huffed as his bleary eyes darted back and forth. In a far corner, he saw a solitary can standing lonesome and forgotten. He crawled in to grab it, making a mental note to stop at the Barg-N-Mart on his way home from work that evening.
"The most important meal of the day, servin' it up — Gary's way..." SpongeBob half-hummed to himself as he fumbled with the can opener. His hands felt weak and useless, seemingly unable to work the tool as he always had. Stupid can opener, SpongeBob thought to himself. Stupid sponge, can't even open a damn can. What am I, a 251st consecutive Employee of the Month or a goddamn Neanderthal?
Meow, came a familiar voice from behind him. A softly slithering mollusk rubbed past his leg, large eyes curiously meeting his gaze as he awaited the grey sludge.
"Oh, hey Gare-bear." SpongeBob took a deep breath as he noticed that his heart was racing, then dumped the foul-smelling food into Gary's bowl after finally prying off the lid. "Sorry for the wait."
Gary nuzzled SpongeBob's socks before his attention was completely pulled to his breakfast.
SpongeBob smiled as he watched Gary dig in. Despite the snail's occasional sharp attitude, his spongey heart couldn't help but soften at the sight of Gary's delight; as though by dumping the contents of a tin can into his small plastic dish, the sponge had served him the world on a silver platter.
Then catching a glimpse of his watch, SpongeBob exclaimed, "Dear Neptune! I'm going to be late!"
He quickly informed his snail of when he'd be returning home that night, then threw open the heavy front door of his pineapple before darting down the road, in his haste leaving Gary to close it behind him.
Hyperventilating, the sponge heaved open the Krusty Krab's glass double doors to be met by Squidward's standard glassy-eyed glare, as well as his boss impatiently tapping a leg on the wooden floorboard.
"You're late," the crab sternly spat, squinting, his eyebrows shooting up as he spoke the second word. "And where's yer hat, boy ??!"
SpongeBob frowned and reached a shaky hand up to his square head, more flustered than he'd ever remembered being at his workplace. To his dismay, he found no hat. He must have forgotten it in his hurry. Then it dawned on him that, having snoozed his foghorn a few times that morning, he had completely overlooked the small orange bottle of extended release dextroamphetamine salts that he usually grabbed from the medicine cabinet when getting ready for the day ahead. "I... guess I wasn't ready..." SpongeBob exhaled in disbelief, shoulders slumping.
Mr. Krabs sighed and shrugged. "Look, lad. It happens to the best of us. Just... do better."
At that, SpongeBob felt a surge of... something, welling up in his chest. "What was that?" he asked, surprised by the sharpness in his tone.
The crimson crustacean squinted and spoke his words again, louder this time. "Do better, lad!"
SpongeBob's eye twitched involuntarily, almost imperceptibly. The sensation in his chest grew hotter, and he stood up straighter and squarer.
"Do... better?" SpongeBob repeated in a low voice, one he hardly ever heard himself use. "You want me to do better, Mr. Krabs? Is that what you want?"
"Speak up, boy, I can't hear ye!"
SpongeBob darted to the side of the cashier's makeshift boat where his boss was standing and, before he could stop himself, lifted the scowling crab by the collar of his blue polo shirt with superspongey strength.
"HOW ABOUT NOW? IS THIS ANY BETTER ???" SpongeBob shouted, twice as loud, his shrill voice leaping an octave higher. His boss looked back at him incredulously, the glint of terror in his eyes unmistakable. Seeing this, SpongeBob began to throttle the shell-shocked crab as though, if shaken hard enough, his petrified brain might bounce around the edges of his hollow shell hard enough to crack open a smithereen of crustacean decency.
"You have extorted me for years, Eugene," seethed the sponge, gritting his teeth as he spat his patron's first name, not breaking eye contact for a second. "I have been coming into this shithole every day at the asscrack of dawn for TWENTY-THREE YEARS to count the sesame seeds, swab the poop deck, flip the patties, serve them all up with a smile to a sad squid whose dreams die a little more every time he walks through those doors—" SpongeBob pointed sharply to the front entrance with his free arm as he paused to inhale deeply "— scrub the toilets, swab the poop deck a second time, go home and do it all over again the next day. This business would fall apart without me, but NooOOOooo, you want me to do BETTER ???" SpongeBob punctuated his final word with a particularly jarring jerk as he shook the capitalist crab without remorse.
"Sp-Sponge..." Squidward stammered, astonished. He thought to be offended by SpongeBob's allusion to him, but quickly acquiesced to the truth behind his words.
SpongeBob continued despite the obvious contortions of Krabs' reddening face, claws snapping at nothing as he attempted to choke out a response. "I see you watching me so closely with those greedy little eyes, day in and day out. Waiting for me to slip up so you can make up another SEAHORSEshit charge to slap onto my paycheck — so you can wring every last possible penny out of my pocket to keep me begging for next to NOTHING!!!" If a crab could get any redder, Eugene was quickly reaching that point as he was nearly boiled alive by the red-hot rage emanating from SpongeBob's countenance.
"I oughta crack these filthy little legs you use to step all over us... grinding us under your pathetic pointy heel to keep us close. You think you've got us trapped by our tails to do your bidding. You just sit on your cheap ass counting your money but you hover over our shoulders nitpicking us all day because — you wanna know what I think, Mr. Krabs?" Not waiting for an answer, SpongeBob leaned in close.
"I think your deepest, darkest fear... " he relished in the silence he left hanging between his words, "... is having nothing. And you'll have less than nothing after I walk my square ass out of this dump because I—" his voice rose to a gravelly shout — "QUIT !!!"
SpongeBob at long last released his grip on the crustacean, who had been kicking his toothpick legs in a desperate blur, and turned on his heel as his former boss dropped to his knees on the wooden planks below, hacking and gasping for air.
As SpongeBob's square figure stood in the doorway, cloaked in shadow by the clear blue sky just outside the confines of the crab-trap establishment, he cast a glance over his shoulder at the squid sitting frozen behind the cash register.
"Here's your chance, Squid," said the now stoic sponge. "Leave this rotten life behind, or live and die this way." He quietly pushed open a glass door, making way for a cool breeze to permeate the stale air inside the restaurant, and lingered a few moments longer in the doorway.
Squidward opened his mouth as if to say something, then for once settled on silence as he swiftly removed the tall hat from his bald head and flung it without looking towards the spot where Krabs was still recovering from his full-body reboot. Squidward stepped out of the shoddy boat replica on tentative tentacles, then crossed the expanse of wooden floorboards that still gleamed from the thorough mopping SpongeBob had given them during his closing shift the night before.
A grin crept onto SpongeBob's face, the first genuine smile he'd had that day — perhaps longer. He held open the door for Squidward, who plodded out into the open air. The morning was still and quiet, as most of Bikini Bottom's residents were just beginning to stir from their slumbers.
The squid and the sponge exchanged wide-eyed looks, as though waiting for the other to comment on the scene that had just unfolded inside the building they'd left moments ago. Something to fill the vacant air, fraught with doubt yet teeming with possibility.
SpongeBob spoke first, looking sheepishly down at his shoes as though he hadn't just delivered the manifesto that had been building unseen in his amygdala during the past two decades of his career. "So, um. Sorry I just cost us our livelihoods."
Squidward's gaze softened as he felt unburdened by the acknowledgement. He shook his head and placed a tentacle on the other's small square shoulder. "No, SpongeBob. I think you just won them back."
SpongeBob's smile returned, bigger this time. He didn't know it, but his eyes appeared brighter and bluer than they had earlier that very morning.
"Besides," continued Squidward, closing his eyes and crossing his arms, "I think we've got a hefty lawsuit in the making." At this, SpongeBob giggled his signature "D'aeehaehaeha!"
The two walked side-by-side down the open path before them. Squidward, not used to having this day off, found his tentacles unsure of where exactly to go. Just as he'd decided to venture back home for a well-deserved nap, SpongeBob's bright voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Yooou wanna stop by the Barg-N-Mart with me? Gary needs more snail food, or he'll start eating the curtains again."
"Sure," replied Squidward, trying to maintain his deadpan demeanor, which he quickly shed as they continued to chat about one thing or another along the way, laughing — "Did you see how red he got?" "Yeah, I know!!" — They both found themselves unable to hide the long-forgotten joy that now shone through their every movement.
—
Epilogue
A few weeks later, Mr. Krabs was presumed dead as no trace of him could be found, save for a bowl of room-temperature crab bisque sitting on the floor of the Krusty Krab beside the cash register. The soup was not DNA tested, but was clandestinely enjoyed in the Bikini Bottom coroner's office. The Krusty Krab was promptly deemed unfit for commercial operation as a dining establishment, and was occupied by a Mega Weenie Hut Jr.'s shortly thereafter.