Chapter Text
“What do you think of these pants? The girls at the counter say they complement my silhouette, but I wanted your opinion.” SpongeBob turned around to show off his denim clad legs. Squidward’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he looked the sponge up and down – the pants didn’t complement the sponge’s silhouette so much as completely changed it. It looked like SpongeBob had cut the legs of a veteran ballet dancer and stuck them to his square little body, making him about twice his usual height. It looked bizarre.
“Is this why you followed me here?” Squidward had felt uneasy the whole way to the mall, like he was being watched. Finally, once he was in the charcuterie aisle of the fancy food store, the sponge had jumped out of a jar of grainy mustard, scaring the octopus half to death. Before he knew it Squidward had been dragged into this cheap clothes outlet by his annoying neighbor. “You want me to help you pick a pair of pants!?”
SpongeBob nodded vigorously.
“Well, you look ridiculous. I think I prefer seeing your noodle legs.”
“Oh, thank Neptune, these are so uncomfortable!” SpongeBob relaxed back into his usual square shape, which made the pants pool on the ground and burst around his wide hips and no waist. “Whoops!” He smiled sheepishly and folded the ripped pants neatly before hiding them under a pile of t-shirts on sale. Squidward didn’t call him out on it. He would’ve done the same thing. SpongeBob was in his underwear now, which was a sight so usual to Squidward he didn’t even react to it. The woman who had just walked into the store with her small daughter did walk out again immediately, though, fins covering her young child’s eyes.
“Maybe I should go with a suit instead? A nice smoking jacket… oh, but I don’t wanna smoke.”
“You can wear a smoking jacket without smoking. Why are you getting new clothes at all? I assumed you had an endless supply of square pants.”
“I do,” SpongeBob answered, opening his face like a fridge door, and retrieving a new pair from inside and stepping into the cuboid pants and shirt with practiced ease. It was faster and easier than going back into the changing rooms and retrieving the pants he had left in there. “I just wanted to wear something special. For the concert.”
Ah yes, the concert. Being subscribed to the Kelpy G newsletter, Squidward had been one of the first people to know that his favorite musician was on tour again, with a stop planned at Kelp City, only a bus ride away from Bikini Bottom. The concerts happened every few years and Squidward never missed a single one. When he was about to buy his usual ticket for himself, he had gotten two instead, on a whim. It had just felt like the right thing to do. The next time he saw SpongeBob at work, he asked if he wanted to join him.
At the time it had felt like an out-of-body experience, like he wasn’t in charge of what he was doing or saying. Only later did his brain catch up to his actions, and he realized he had basically asked SpongeBob out on a date. He knew why that had happened, and his therapist had agreed. Any time Squidward went out to do something by himself nowadays he would wonder what it would be like if SpongeBob was there with him. Probably loud and annoying, he would think while doing his leg stretches on the ballet barre, and then, I wish SpongeBob was here.
Squidward knew the early stages of being smitten, and it was pretty similar to the symptoms of going insane. Wanting SpongeBob near him was a clear sign of either madness, or attraction. Probably both. When Squidward had intended to buy just one ticket his subconscious had told him, But what if you could hold hands while listening to the song Holding Hands, like all those sickeningly lovestruck couples you always see at the concerts? The ones that make you gag? Squidward had gagged then and the ticket vendor had asked him if he was alright. “Of course not,” Squidward’s voice had a manic edge to it. “I have a crush on a walking water filter!” The fish had looked very scared at that point, so Squidward had plonked the money on the counter and left the ticket booth with his newly acquired tickets crumpled in his fist.
Squidward looked SpongeBob up and down. “Well, I think it is quite special to wear brown shorts with a red tie and gym socks. People will definitely notice you.”
“Yeah?” SpongeBob looked excited at the prospect. He had no ear for sarcasm, even after all these years of knowing Squidward.
“Yeah. Look, it’s an outdoor concert, I’m not going to change into anything, either. Just come as you are. Now can I go back to shopping? Maybe you remember that you dragged me out of the condiment aisle, and I still need to get my grey poupon.”
“Oh no, Squidward. You should go see a doctor if it’s grey!” SpongeBob giggled at his own joke.
“Leave. Me. Alone.”
Squidward picked up the light sponge and threw him into a pile of on-sale clothes. He was already walking away when SpongeBob emerged once more and waved at him, now wearing one of the flowery summer dresses that he fell into. “Bye, Squidward, see you at hooome! Oh, that’s a nice dress, actually…” SpongeBob got distracted looking for the price tag.
The octopus shook his head as he walked away. That’s the guy I’m smitten with. I don’t need mustard; I need to buy a bottle of sane juice.
“That’s a rare one, look, Squidward!”
“Amazing, SpongeBob,” Squidward retorted flatly. SpongeBob was playing his portable game, something about collecting different types of jellyfish and training them to fight other jellyfish? Squidward didn’t really know. All he was concerned with was that it occupied SpongeBob nicely during long bus rides, which this was going to be. The sponge usually got bored very easily and would jump up and down the aisles in no time, embarrassing Squidward when people realized that the sponge was associated with him. “Use your earphones, Sponge.” When SpongeBob was focused on his game and had his earphones in, he was in another world. Squidward sighed happily at the silence.
Squidward looked around the bus as it started moving; most of these people were on their way to the concert, he could tell. The bus was filled to the brim with octopuses in tie dye shirts, opal necklaces and open-tentacled sandals. Your typical Kelpy G fare and very different from his sponge friend. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb, and Squidward with him. Suddenly his whole plan felt silly. Why did he think this was a good idea? This wasn’t romantic, it was awkward. Trying to calm himself down, he closed his eyes; he didn’t want to look at all those cephalopods anymore. He dozed off, rocked to sleep by the movements of the bus, occasionally awoken by SpongeBob, who had to show him every time he won a badge or caught a special jellyfish.
Knowing the route by hearts, Squidward didn’t have to open his eyes to know that they were at the second to last stop, when someone sat down next to him. He was slightly irritated by that, but also counted himself lucky that he and SpongeBob’d had the back of the bus for themselves for so long. He was just going to keep his eyes shut and pretend he was asleep. Just one more stop and they were going to head out.
“We’ve met before, right?” Squidward turned his head to the left and opened his eyes to look at the woman who had joined them at the back of the bus. His hearts were in his stomach before his brain even registered who he was looking at. She was a gorgeous octopus lady and her dark purple skin was instantly recognizable; you didn’t see a cephalopod sporting that skin tone every day. Yeah, they’ve met before. Squidward remembered hiding from her last year.
“Erm yeah,” he stuttered. What was her name again? He had no clue. “Hi! Er. Squ- Squida- Squilla… Squeliza-” She just looked at him, arms crossed and with an amused expression on her face, like she wanted to see were this was going. She was not going to help him out one bit, was she?
“It’s all good, dude” she eventually took pity on him. “We never exchanged names.” She leaned in closer. Now that her arms were uncrossed Squidward noticed the perky nipples under her dress. “We exchanged some other things, though.”
Yep, he remembered her. Years ago he met her at another concert tailgate. He’d been in a pretty manic mood at the time, a single male octopus fresh out of a bad relationship (again). She had noticed his fraught energy, which she’d called a “non-groovy vibe”, and had offered to share her seaweed with him. He had liked her smooth skin, and her colorful dress, and her no bra, so he agreed. First they’d shared by passing it back and forth, then she had the idea to blow the smoke from her mouth into his. They’d fooled around behind a van on the outskirts of the event. When they were done Squidward got in line to get them some lemonade, an awkward attempt to thank her for getting to touch her boobs and letting him finish inside, even though that had been a terrible idea. He’d lost her somewhere in the commotion before he had a chance to hand her the drink. He hadn’t talked to her since.
Last year at another event, he’d recognized her from across the room; her hair different, but her skin just as smooth and purple. He had promptly ducked into the crowd again and for the rest of the night he’d feared that he would bump into her again, or that she’d sit down next to him during the concert; neither happened, but his nerves didn’t settle that night until he was home with the door closed and locked behind him. He was afraid she’d be mad at him, would think he had ditched her on purpose that night. She didn’t look mad now, though.
“We did… exchange things, didn’t we?” Smoke, kisses, fluids. “Sorry I was missing in action,” he couldn’t help but bring it up, he felt bad about it still. “Like some deadbeat,” he joked.
“That’s alright,” she said. “You can start paying alimony now that I’ve found you. Can you believe the little squirt is already school age?”
Squidward’s face turned white. His soul tried to escape his body and ascend to the heavens, but he grabbed it the second before it could escape through the bus ceiling and pulled it back into his body through his mouth, chocking as he swallowed. “Wh- what?” he asked between coughs.
“Mother of pearl, I was joking!” the octopus lady cackled. “Man, your face! I thought you were going to ink yourself!”
He knew there was a reason he had avoided her. To be fair, his humor was also dry and deadpan, like with most octopuses. She had just managed to tap deep into his subconscious and target his biggest fear. His alarm bells had rung so loudly that it had drowned out his sarcasm detector.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she was still laughing but sounded apologetic, too. “Be fair, you said the word deadbeat first! Here, a peace offering.” She dug through her patchwork purse and retrieved a small, hand-rolled cigarette. She still liked to share her seaweed then. “For later, obviously. When you’re done dying.”
He was still clearing his throat, so he took the blunt and lifted his hand and his eyebrows at her to say “Thanks!”, then put it in his backpack.
“My name is Calamartha, by the way. Not Squeesquoo or whatever you guessed.”
Squidward nodded and outstretched his hand. A proper introduction was years overdue. “Squid-”
“WHOOOO! Look at this!” Squidward suddenly had a gaming console in his face. “That’s a royal blue King Jellyfish! And I only had to use one super jellyfish net to get him!” The jellyfish looked like every other one SpongeBob had shown him so far. “Isn’t that amazing? I’m going to call him-” He stopped talking when he saw Calamartha looking at him. The sponge hadn’t noticed her until now. He looked down at her hand in Squidward’s hand, frozen in the middle of a greeting. Squidward noticed the sponge’s gaze and snatched his hand back like he had touched a hot stove.
SpongeBob smiled, joyful as ever. “Hi, I’m SpongeBob!” He didn’t offer his hand to her, though. Instead, he entangled it with Squidward’s.
“Hi, SpongeBob. Er…” Calamartha awkwardly adjusted her hair with her tentacle, now that it was hanging in the air from the abandoned handshake. At that moment, the bus stopped.
“Kelp City Concert Hall. This is the end of the line. Please exit the vehicle,” the bus driver announced.
“Alright,” Calamartha got up quickly. “See you around, dudes.” She nodded at the two “SpongeBob. Squid.”
“It’s Squidward…” the octopus said, but she was already gone, lost in the commotion.
“That was quite rude,” SpongeBob said. “To disappear like that.” It was unusual how judgmental he sounded. Since when did the sponge have any bile in him?
“It’s a thing she does,” Squidward said without thinking. “Vanishing in crowds.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me doing that!” SpongeBob squeezed his tentacle. Squidward looked at their entangled hands and frowned; he had wanted to hold hands, in fact it had been one of his plans for tonight. But not like this. Not out of spite, not because SpongeBob wanted to hold Squidward’s hand better than other people. Is SpongeBob jealous? Just because I talked to someone else? Squidward was getting seriously annoyed. He doesn’t trust me. I bought him a kelping ticket to come here, and he thinks I’m going to run off with some lady?
“I know, SpongeBob. You’re stuck to me like a barnacle to a ship’s hull.” Squidward wrestled his tentacle out of SpongeBob’s grip. “But that doesn’t mean I have to guide you by the hand like you’re a toddler. Let’s go.”
Squidward picked up his backpack and marched past the other concert goers, decidedly not looking at SpongeBob. He had looked too hurt for Squidward to dare stare into those big, round, watery eyes one second longer. A few more steps out of the bus, and Squidward’s sudden anger had vanished as fast as it had appeared. He stopped dead in his tracks and sighed, defeated.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’ll go get you an ice cream co-” when the octopus turned around, there was only the crowd rushing past him, with no sponge in sight.
Fish paste.