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I don't own anything so don't sue me

Chapter one

Note: All of the characters are humanized, so that means that they have different names, but it'll (possible) make sense.

--- ("Edward's" point of view)

I felt small slender arms wrap around my waist and a small frame lean against my backside.

"Peter, get off me." I told the smaller boy, but I got a giggle instead.

"It's not Peter, it's Spongebob, remember? We have to go abide our given names when we're working!" Peter said. I didn't answer him, but I grunted so he would stop talking to me. His arms tightened around my waist and snuggled against me.

"Hey Edward, do you like me?"

I rolled my eyes.

"It's Squidward when we're at work, and no. I don't like you. At all. So get off of me."

Of course he didn't let go, but clung to me even tighter.

"Look, if you don't get off, the other customers are going to see us and look at us funny."

"But we don't have any customers today." The blonde protested. I sighed in defeat. This kid was too clingy. If I just had to deal with him at work, maybe I wouldn't be such a 'grumpy-pants,' or so he called me. But I had to deal with this bubble-blowing idiot at home, which meant that I got to see him over the weekends too. What joy.

I felt the blonde boy climb up my back and wrap his legs around my waist while his arms went about my neck, his face resting on my shoulder. How this five-foot boy was able to climb up my backside in such speed was a mystery to me, since I was a full foot (and over) taller than him. He was about five feet exactly, and I was about six foot three. His soft blonde strands brushed against the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to run across my arms.

"Squidward…"

"Yes Spongebob?"

"Can I come over and paint with you?"

Well that caught me off guard.

"….No."

"But why not?"

I was afraid that he might be better than me.

"Because I don't find your company that enjoyable."

"B-But Squidward! I want to paint with you!"

"Why me? Why don't you go blow bubble with Rick?" (Rick=Patrick)

"Because… because I want to be inspired and learn from the best.

I felt my heart melt at that.

"Fine, but you better not distract me or wreck my house… like last time."

--- (End of point of view)

Running his long fingers through his messy turquoise hair the musician scratched down notes on the manuscript paper that was pressed against the stand. His clarinet sat next to him, waiting to be played. The man took a glance over his shoulder to see the blonde sitting quietly in front of the canvas and painting something. Edward gave a slight smile. The boy didn't make a single sound besides sighing or giving a questioning sound. Putting his quill down he stood up and made his way towards him.

"Peter?"

The freckle faced boy turned around and gave him a smile.

"I'm almost done!"

"Let me see."

The older man felt his heart skip a few beats when he set his gaze on the canvas. It was a pair of hands holding a clarinet while playing. Long slender fingers pressing down on sliver keys that sat on the black wood of the instrument.

"It's you." The boy said quietly, a faint blush rouging his freckled cheeks.

"This… it seems a bit like impressionism… you know my hands don't look like that when I'm playing." Edward said flatly.

"Yes they do."

"No, they don't."

"I've seen you play! And they do look like that!" Peter argued. The two locked eyes for a moment. Maroon orbs clashing against gentle blue irises. Of course the blue ones were the first to look away, unable to keep a strong gaze for a long time period unlike the maroon orbs.

"… Do they really look like that?"

The boy looked up with a surprised expression.

"… Yeah, they do. And I don't want to be rude, but you don't look anything like your self portraits."

"What? Did I make myself too handsome?" He asked with sarcasm dripping off of his voice. Peter shook his head before setting the paint down and standing up, his hands gently clasping the older man's face.

"You're not drawing yourself handsome enough."

Edward was taken aback. Not handsome enough? Was this kid on something? … Or he could be onto something. The hands on his cheeks pulled him back to reality when he felt them let go and slide around his neck.

"Edward, please don't hate me."

His voice broke as he let tears fall. The older man was stunned. How did it all lead into this? First they were sitting in his house on the second floor, then he walked over to the boy and looked at his painting, then they began to argue, and then he made the boy cry. Edward gave a distressed sigh as he picked the boy up, walked into his bedroom as set him down on the mattress. Of course Peter didn't let go, he clung to the front of his shirt and continued to sob.

"Peter, stop crying."

He didn't stop.

"Oh c'mon Peter, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for making you cry."

He still wouldn't stop.

"Spongebob Squarepants, you better stop crying or else I won't be at work tomorrow."

That got him to stop.

"You… you won't hate me, right?" He asked. Edward nodded.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

This got the boy to break into a grin.

"Then kiss me."

"Wha-"

"If you don't hate me, then prove it."

"Hold on, just because I don't hate you doesn't mean I love you, far from it!"

The smaller boy shook his head.

"You either hate something or love something, no in between."

"But that's unfair- ah…"

The older man was hushed silent when he felt the smaller boy's hands take the front of his short and pull him into a gentle kiss. His soft lips pressed lovingly against his own, and almost got him to lose control. After what felt like beautiful eternity Peter let go, a blush rouging his cheeks and his innocent blue irises cast downward.

"Thanks Edward… I, I guess I should get going and feed Gary. See you tomorrow." He said before sliding off the bed and making his way downstairs and out the door. The said man just stood there, unable to take in what just happened. After a few minutes he ran his fingers through his tangled hair before falling face flat on his mattress.

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