Chapter Text
The sun glared down at a pair of lovers walking down the street, carrying bags packed with sunscreen and swimsuits.
''Gee, it was nice of Squilliam's parents to invite us today.'' Spongebob gushed. ''I can't wait to meet them! I sure hope they like me.''
Squidward wrung his tentacles, too distracted by his nerves to comment. The mention of Squilliam's parents already made him break into a dreadful sweat. He hadn't seen nor spoken to them since high school.
He couldn't imagine what their impression of him was now; what they might've heard when he and Squilliam were in the bitterest throes of their rivalry.
He wondered if they'd remember him how he used to be; young and happy and full of promise?
Or maybe they'd see him as Squilliam's pathetic failure of an ex-beau. He couldn't decide if it was worse to have expectations to live up to or not. He knew, obviously, that there was a chance he was overthinking this.
Mr. and Mrs. Fancyson might even smile at him and say, ''It's been awhile, Squidward! Nice to see you!''. They'd only ever been kind to him before.
Although the high school sweethearts had reconciled and that flame was rekindled, this was a different sort of happiness. It was gentle, yet exciting, and it had made him complacent.
He didn't feel much need to compete with Squilliam anymore, although at times he and Squilliam occasionally butted heads without their spongy yellow third to distract from their differences.
What if they disagreed during lunch? What if Squidward said the wrong thing? Would Mr. and Mrs. Fancyson find fault in that?
He couldn't even slow his thoughts down enough to worry about Spongebob, and what shenanigans he might pull. Part of him knew that a lot of it was his own insecurities.
His ego could hardly handle returning to Squilliam's childhood home and showing his parents what a screw up he had turned out to be.
For the first time in ages, he felt that sinking feeling in his stomach. The one he'd get whenever Squilliam would show up to make his life miserable. He tugged at his shirt collar and fanned himself.
''You okay, Squid?'' Spongebob asked.
''Huh?''
''Here, I figured this might happen!''
The thoughtful little sponge procured a bottle of Squidward's favorite sparkling water from Neptune knows where. He took it gratefully, having come to accept that Spongebob himself may as well be a living multipurpose storage compartment.
They were only a minute or so away from the affluent neighborhood Squilliam was brought up in, but it was a particularly hot afternoon.
…The bottle was still cool to the touch. Weird.
''Squidward?''
''Yeah, Spongebob?'' He replied after a few gulps, capping the bottle and handing it back. ''Thank you, by the way.'' Spongebob smiled, happy to help.
''What are Squilliam's parents like? Do you remember?'' He asked as the shadow of Fancyson manor loomed over them. The double doors were massive and ornate, with twin gilded knockers carefully sculpted to look like a refined and glamorous octopus couple.
The stained glass windows on either side of the entrance elegantly depicted several snapshots of Squilliam's childhood and his parents' lofty accomplishments.
Squidward swallowed down the lump in his throat.
''...Impressive.''