Chapter Text
Squidward Tentacles groans as his eyes wrench open at 5:58 am on a Sunday. The pounding on the door from downstairs echoes through the house, and it assaults Squidward's ears. He already knows who it is. He knows there's only one person in Bikini Bottom who would be on his doorstep this early, knocking like a raving madman.
"What in Neptune's name could he possibly need at this hour?" Squidward finds himself questioning aloud, though it feels beneath him to wonder. He wonders in spite of that, and drags his feet to the door, flinging it open with little regard. "What do you want, Spongeb-" Squidward's heart seizes for a moment seeing the little sponge's face. He's shaking, and his eyes are red, puffy, and lined with tears. His cheeks are flushed, and his bottom lip is stuck in a pout. "Spongebob?" Squidward's voice comes out a bit softer this time, and his fists unclench just a little.
"S-S-Squidward, I need your help."
Spongebob sniffles, and wipes a thick tear from his cheekbone. Squidward is still a bit skeptical, and raises an eyebrow. "What for, exactly?" He snorts, checking out the end of his tentacle so he doesn’t have to look at Spongebob as he whimpers. Squidward tries to lighten the mood, as Spongebob's uncharacteristic solemnity is a tad... eerie.
"Um, look, I know I prefer it when you're silent, but this is odd, even for you."
Spongebob's breathing starts to speed up, and his hands ball into fists. The tears that spill over his cheeks make his eyes shimmer like glass, and Squidward's heart leaps to his throat.
"Spongebob, calm down! Tell me what's going on already!" Squidward doesn't really mean to yell, nor grab Spongebob's shoulders with such strength, but it all happens too quickly. Much to Squidward's bewilderment- yet unending relief- it actually seems to work, and Spongebob's hyperventilating stops.
"It's... it's my cousin." Spongebob hastily thrusts a letter into Squidward's tentacle pads. The octopus scratches his head. Whoever this relative is, it's very hard to believe they are that intimidating, if Spongebob is anything to go off of. Although, Spongebob's often intimidated by his own shadow, so if the bar's on the floor, the pole vault isn't exactly a challenge, now, is it? Despite his numerous doubts, Squidward squints at the messy scrawl, and nearly forgets what actual letters look like as he tries to decipher its cryptic code.
"Hey there, little buddy,
If you’re readin' this, it means you still live in that squishy, little pineapple of yours. Good news! I just finished parole and now I'm comin' for a visit! Get ready, ready, ready for the pummelin' of your life...
Love, your BIG buddy, Cousin Blackjack."
"Blackjack..." Spongebob repeats, and his shuddering whisper causes Squidward to jump. When he takes a look at the sponge's face, its colour has drained, and his eyes are sunken into their sockets, fixated on something far away, unreachable.
"So, this 'Blackjack'," Squidward air-quotes, "is going to come over to your house and 'pummel' you?" The octopus attempts to mask the quirk of his brow, the slight frown on his lips, but how can he when Spongebob looks terrified out of his skin, borderline traumatized? It takes a while, but eventually, he nods in response, his gaze downcast. Squidward sighs gruffly. "Can't Sandy just help you or something? She's the one that does all that 'hyah-hiyah' stuff, right?"
"She’s at a science expo for the whole week, and I can’t wait that long without protection!" Spongebob's eyes are wide, darting back and forth, and his body still hasn’t stopped shaking. Squidward's stone demeanor is starting to chip.
"Spongebob, I don’t think-"
"Please, oh please, Squidward! I don’t know what to do!" Spongebob's voice quakes, and his words are messily strung together between sniffles and sobs. "Please, help me! I'm begging you!" He is on his knees now, a white-knuckled grip on the hem of Squidward’s shirt, pulling it down ever so slowly as he sinks to the ground in a heap.
"Spongebob, would you ju-" Squidward tries to shoo away Spongebob's hands, then grabs him by the sides again and sets him down gingerly on the sand. His face is a soggy, puffy, dripping disaster, and Squidward's stomach twists. "Fine, fine! I'll help you, if it'll get you off my back!" His tentacles are up defensively, though he’s unsure what he's afraid of, exactly. Maybe it's the way Spongebob's eyes light up in a millisecond, or the unabashed way he wraps his arms around Squidward's torso. It causes Squidward's chest to tighten, and his heart pounds.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, Squidward!" Spongebob's lilt carries high into the air. "I promise it won’t be too long. Just till Sandy comes back."
Squidward rolls his eyes and pries Spongebob off of him. He avoids looking directly at that doe-eyed, tear-filled gaze. Squidward knows the one, and he knows that he’s at its mercy whenever it’s plastered all over that little sponge's face. There’s no going back now. "Whatever." Then, realization hits. Will Squidward have to be around Spongebob for a whole week, watching him. spending time with him, protecting him? Listening to non-stop chatter, incessant giggling, and dealing with all manner of nonsense and boobery? Not to mention what could happen if Blackjack actually shows his face. How tough is this guy, really? And yet Spongebob chooses him, of all people, to go to for protection? Squidward suddenly feels very nauseous, and the sweat is now pouring from his forehead. He can’t do it. He can’t stand it. He can’t stand how it feels to have somebody care for him or consider him at all. It makes his insides squirm uncomfortably. Squidward peeks over at Spongebob, who is still grinning eagerly. He seems more at ease, at least. Squidward thinks to himself, then waves the thought away. Why should I care? Now I’m the one who's uneasy.
"And maybe if I crash at your place instead of mine, Blackjack will think I’m gone and leave me alone!" Spongebob's grin widens. Squidward sighs heftily with exasperation, but the sponge persists. "He'll probably be out of our hair faster that way..."
"And then you can get out of mine!" Squidward’s mouth upturns. This doesn’t have to be a horrible experience, hey, it may not even take the whole week. Sure, on paper it's the single most terrifying notion in the entire sea. In practice, well, Squidward has ways of improvising.
"Okay Spongebob, this is where you'll be staying."
"In your broom closet?" The pair are standing at the end of the hall, looking into an empty cubbyhole, a space that can hardly classify as a closet. Spongebob scratches his head and looks up at Squidward. "Isn’t it a little small?"
"Nonsense, it's a perfect fit!" Squidward waves away the concern and attempts to fit him inside anyway. He squeaks, and his spongey sides begin to spill out, until he shoots from the closet with a pop. "Okay, maybe it is a little small. Um, fine, here." Squidward gestures to the couch in the living area.
Spongebob tests out the couch, and he giggles as he bounces off its cushions. "Hey, Squidward this is pretty fun, wanna join?" He gives a coy smile that makes Squidward's stomach flip in spite of himself. He rolls his eyes, then grabs the sides of Spongebob's face, becoming entirely too aware of just how touchy he’s been with Spongebob today. A huge part of him cannot figure out why. A smaller part of him worries that if Spongebob isn’t close by, maybe something bad might actually happen to him.
Squidward snaps himself out of that disturbing train of thought, and focuses his attention back on the little sponge in front of him, who appears far too absorbed in the moment.
"Now, for the love of Neptune, Spongebob," Squidward begins, staring directly into Spongebob's eyes. The way their blue irises sparkle in the water causes him to catch a sharp breath, but he shakily continues. "Try, and I cannot stress this enough, not to make ANY noise. Not a peep. Just stay down here, watch tv, and if you get hungry make yourself a seanut butter sandwich or something because I don’t want you burning my house down. Got it?"
Spongebob nods, and his eyes are widening, almost as if he could start crying again. Squidward really hopes that doesn’t happen. He doesn’t want to have to deal with a flood, too.
"Oh, and you're not allowed to invite Patrick over."
"Aww, but Squidwa-"
"I already have one lunatic sleeping on my couch, I don’t need two." Those cursed fluttering eyelashes. Why did the couch surfer have to be the pretty lunatic? "Now, leave me alone to the rest of my Sunday-"
"B-b-but, Squidward! I don't wanna be alone down here! What if Blackjack shows up?" Spongebob's hands are quaking, and he is starting to hyperventilate again. Before it can escalate, Squidward frantically leaps to where Spongebob is on the couch.
"Oh, just move over already! And since it’s my house and my tv, I'll decide what we watch."
Spongebob is squeaking with delight, looking up at Squidward, fluttering those long lashes again, and Squidward freezes with his tentacle around the remote. Some soap opera is playing- utter trite- and yet he can't bring himself to change it. Spongebob's too invested in it now, his cheeks in his palms, his eyes fixated on the woman in the blue dress. She just keeps talking about seahorses, and some upcoming derby, and Spongebob’s completely taken.
"That Sandra Swordfish is so elegant..." He sighs.
Squidward's gut burns, and he tries not to make it obvious. "Yeah, yeah, then next thing you know, she'll reveal some dark, weird secret. 'The ugly truth is, I have a secret uncle's cousin's former roomate I never told you about!'" Squidward lilts mockingly. He half expects Spongebob to shush him, or not even hear him, but the little sponge spits out a snicker, covering his mouth with his hand. The burning feeling subsides, and Squidward is suddenly very light-headed and lays back. He relaxes his shoulders just a little. Even the soap doesn’t seem as bad anymore because the energy has shifted. Sponge is curled up, wiggling a little in place as he sits. He's thoroughly absorbed in the story, and it's, daresay, endearing. Squidward doesn’t even mind the wiggling that much. The room is mostly quiet, and it's very calm.
"Watch the way Sandra twirls around the dance floor so flawlessly. And Jed? He's so handsome in that cowboy hat..."
And just like a rush of hot water from a geyser, the burning feeling returns, and it rages upwards to the base of Squidward's throat. "Oh, puh-leeze. His whole thing is riding seahorses and being tall. How uninspired." Squidward's deadpan tone betrays the very real jealousy that laces his every word.
"Squidward, seahorses are the most important part of the show, remember?"
The octopus rolls his eyes, grabbing his filer from the side table and pretending not to occasionally look at the screen. He hates to admit this, but Spongebob is causing him to get invested, too. Squidward especially loves the big, blue seahorse- and as far as he is concerned- the true main character.
"That's Indigo. She's as quick as a whip and twice as clever." Spongebob explains when Squidward asks. "She prefers to be alone, kind of a prickly pear. Reminds me of someone..." He trails off before continuing. "She does have a soft spot for her forever companion, Jewel. They're uh, they're always together. They lay together... eat together... swim together..."
For the umpteenth time that day, Spongebob stares up at Squidward, and it makes the octopus ponder frightening notions that are almost too much to bear. Squidward swallows a hard lump in his throat. "Jewel's the small one, right? Excitable? Overly friendly?"
"Yeah, that's her." Spongebob sighs with an incredible weight to his voice.
"Kinda reminds me of someone, too." Quickly, Squidward's eyes dart away from Spongebob's. "It's a little on the nose, isn't it?" An awkward chuckle escapes Squidward's lips. When he looks back at Spongebob, there's barely a snicker.
"Hah, yeah, I suppose it is."
Squidward slowly raises a tentacle, with some freakish and misguided attempt to comfort Spongebob, then lowers it when he comes to his senses. This cousin thing seems to really be getting to him. The more Squidward thinks about it, the scarier and more bizarre it becomes.
"Are you, um, hungry? I don’t trust you in my kitchen though, so I’ll make the food." Anything to evacuate this situation, keep his mind off of some looming half-threat beyond the horizon, along with the very tangible threat lurking just behind his closet door.
Spongebob's stomach growls on cue, and it's enough to pull Squidward from the couch and into the kitchen. "There's gotta be something I can make without going to the store. Ugh, what a pain." Squidward mumbles to himself as he starts a pot of boiling water. His grandmother's soup recipe is always great comfort food in a pinch. Perhaps, they both need it right now.
Squidward returns with two full, steaming bowls of homemade soup and two thick slices of buttered French bread. For some reason, Squidward is acutely aware that Spongebob can’t handle foods that are too strong or rich. The carrot and squash make for a beautifully smooth texture and mild taste, yet still satisfying and flavourful. It should be fine, Squidward hopes.
Spongebob hums sweetly to himself as he eats. Squidward feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards, and he turns to his own plate. "Superb, right? My grandmother's secret recipe."
The sponge nods enthusiastically, and halts his shoveling long enough to formulate words. "Just imagine how much money Mr. Krabs could make selling this stuff!"
Squidward rolls his eyes, an aggressive arch in his brow. "Can’t you go one day without thinking about work? Also..." He puts on an eerie, dead-eyed stare and gestures towards the door. "I don’t feel like dealing with our boss right now, so don’t mention money. You might... summon him." This thought, too, gives Squidward anxiety. Mr. Krabs is perhaps Squidward's "Blackjack" except the "pummeling" is the 9-5 ball and chain with less than minimal pay.
Spongebob's laugh escapes before he can stop it, and he covers his mouth frantically. "Oh, I feel a little bad for laughing at our boss behind his back. He really is a great boss, Squidward."
Squidward's brow flattens, eyes lidded. His tone comes out in a sarcastic drawl. "Oh, yeah, Spongebob. I sure am living the dream, aren’t I? 'Boss of the Year:' a skinflint with no regard for business ethics! Not to mention the pittances for paychecks, oh, and how could I possibly forget that obnoxious fry cook I have to sit in front of every miserable day of my meager existence? Yeah, him too." Squidward's lids are shut as he speaks. It's easier than trying to pull himself from the waves of mystifying ocean-blue eyes that will not stop until they drown him in guilt.
Spongebob sniffles, his voice cracking. "You're sitting with him now, though..." His words are an inconvenient truth.
"Yeah, because you came to my doorstep bawling like a baby, begging for my help, and I..." Squidward's chest seizes as his sentence fizzles out. He doesn’t know how to finish that. He doesn’t even know if he should. "Anyway, the point is, you got what you wanted so just stop worrying and watch the seahorse show."
"This isn’t what I wanted." It's the faintest of whispers, and Squidward has to strain to hear it.
"What?"
"I said this isn’t what I wanted!" Spongebob furrows his eyebrows and shrieks, and the cacophonous sound reverberates around the room. "S-sorry." He looks away then, lip trembling.
Squidward’s eyes widen for a second, then immediately narrow in frustration. "Well, what did you want, then?"
"I don’t know, I just... I just wanted to feel like you actually enjoy being around me for once..." Spongebob's lip trembles, and he viciously rubs thick tears from his cheeks. "I just want you to be happy. I didn’t realize that was such a bad thing."
The octopus sighs heftily. "It's not a bad thing, I-I..." He can’t get the words out, and it feels like he's choking on them. I was enjoying it. I was enjoying your company.
"Squidward, if you really, really, truly don't wanna be my friend, I understand. I-I just don’t want you to have to be so lonely all the time."
"I like being alone, Spongebob! I love it, in fact!" But I also like spending time with you. Squidward kicks himself. Why can’t he just say those words? It shouldn’t be this hard, but it is.
Spongebob takes a deep breath in, and he squeezes his eyes shut. "Squidward, I just want to know if there's anything I can do you to make you l-like-" Spongebob grips at his chest and whimpers. Squidward just keeps fighting the urge to comfort him, but the way Spongebob looks now is tearing a hole straight through his heart.
"Do nothing!" Squidward's tone is harsher than he intends, and Spongebob winces.
"But Squidwa-"
"Don’t 'but Squidward' me! Just... just stop worrying so much! You're doing... fine."
"I am?" Spongebob's eyes are sparkling, eyelashes batting heavily, and Squidward's breath catches fast.
"Y-yeah, sure, whatever. Now, tell me more about that seahorse. Indigo, was it?"
Spongebob beams, wiping a stray tear from his face, his smile widening, wobbly. Squidward cannot help but sport a lop-sided smile to match it.