All characters are represented as human beings.

I had to write a Oneshot to satiate my SpongeSquid craving. I know it’s totally OOC. It’s just a blip I decided to share. I didn’t even edit it.

Watching and Painting

It was probably unhealthy, but Spongebob couldn’t get enough of watching Squidward. His favourite time was at night when he’d sit by his bedroom window and watch him in the next house over. Squidward always stayed up painting into the early hours of the morning. His paintings were terrible, almost as bad as his temper. Squidward would be an hour into a painting and just stand up and throw the canvas across the room. With Patrick sleeping under a rock, Spongebob was the only one lying awake at night hearing Squidward smashing lamps and shattering dishes.

“Hey Squidward, isn’t it great we get to walk home together every single night after work?”

“Fantastic,” Squidward said, trying to walk as far away from Spongebob as he could on the narrow road.

Spongebob looked up, sighing at the beautiful night-ocean sky. Squidward never looked up.

“Hey Squidward, you should come watch Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy with me tonight!”

“Somehow working five feet away from you for eleven hours straight every day is more than enough quality time.”

Spongebob scratched his chin, wondering how he could cheer Squidward up. Today had felt so much like every day. Squidward and he were overworked and underpaid, he had enjoyed working and Squidward hadn’t. Maybe he enjoyed it because he could watch Squidward up close. Of course making crabby patties was fun, but there was something about the man that he couldn’t get enough of.

He loved watching Squidward leaning over the cash register, the one time he never looked angry. He was always lost in the clouds, punching the buttons he knew all too well, occasionally running his fingers through his gorgeous, tousled turquoise hair to keep it out of his face. He would sort out the money customers dropped on the counter, skilfully organizing the coins with his long, slender fingers. Spongebob wondered if he was the only one to notice the remnants of paint trapped beneath his fingernails or the smudge of color on the back of his wrist that Squidward always failed to notice. All he knew is that Squidward didn’t need to even think to do his job perfectly.

Spongebob wondered again about making the other happy, and suddenly it came to him.

“Squidward?”

“Yes Spongebob?”

“I have this great idea for you. I want you to play a game with me.”

“Is that your entire thought or is there more?”

“More, of course! Tonight I want you to think about working while you paint.”

Squidward glanced down at the shorter boy, his cynical maroon eyes intense against the pale tone of his skin. Spongebob smiled and looked away, the eye contact too much to bear.

“I think you should try to imagine you’re working. Pretend you’re not painting at all. Imagine you’re typing on the cash register or sorting change, or counting Mr. Crab’s money or even mopping the floor. Just pretend you’re at work and think about whatever you think about at work, instead of thinking about painting.”

Spongebob chanced a look at Squidward who was still watching him. “Spongebob, are you on something?”

“The high of life?”

Squidward looked away, shaking his head. They reached the neighbourhood and parted ways. “Goodnight Squidward,” Spongebob said from his door, and Squidward rolled his eyes.

That night Spongebob went through his routine. He fed Garry, ate dinner, showered, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He got into a t-shirt and his underwear and sat in the chair by the window. Sure enough Squidward was in his room with a new canvas.

But tonight was a little different than usual. Squidward stood and stared, then left the room. He came back, keeping to the opposite end of the room as he glared at the empty canvas. He shook his head and began to walk away but turned around and sat in front of it. He began like he usually did, opening his jars of paint and grabbing his paint brush and dipping it in the water.

Spongebob watched closely as Squidward closed his eyes and concentrated. He stayed that way for a while until his face finally relaxed, the unhappy creases softening and his eyebrows rising slightly. Spongebob knew that face. It was his work face.

He ran his fingers over the jars and dipped his brush in one and began to paint with his eyes still closed. The strokes were lazy and long unlike his usual short detailed strokes. He finally gave up this brush and felt around blindly for another. He started again with a much larger brush, all the while never opening his eyes. Spongebob frowned, wishing the painting was angled towards him. On and off Squidward would just use his fingers and even his whole hands. He kept it up for what felt like an eternity while Spongebob waited for him to hang it on the wall where he could see.

A few more minutes passed and finally Squidward put down the brush and opened his eyes. He stared at the painting, his eyes travelling up and down. He leaned back in his chair, his mouth hanging open.

And then he stood so fast his chair knocked out behind him. He ran from the room, and within seconds there was a loud knocking at Spongebob’s front door.

To be continued…

Please tell me if you liked it. I’m seriously thinking of quitting but I’ll keep it up if someone is actually interested.