Tea at Fancyson Manor

by Hg Muffin-Stuff

Pampering

Squidward entered, where he was greeted by a buzzer and a doorman. Squilliam approached the doorman, tapped his shoulder and said, "I'll take it from here," and escorted Squidward through his mansion himself instead of a butler.

As they walked through the expansive corridors, Squidward asked, "Your butler have the day off?"

Squilliam licked his bottom lip and said, "No, I'm just giving you the personal touch," lingering on the 'r' in 'personal' and placing his arm around Squidward's back. He guided Squidward to the elevator and activated the whirlpool bath; he added a lavender soap, arm still firmly gripping Squidward's back, but never relinquishing his business-as-usual face.

They reached his romantic grotto, where there was a table with a fancy burgundy cloth and several waiters carrying trays of various hors-d'oeuvres. "Make yourself comfortable, Squiddy," said Squilliam, as some butlers placed a footrest in front of his chair, squirted some light perfume, tied a napkin to Squidward's neck, and started giving him a pedicure and foot massage. Squidward took an hors-d'oeuvre as Squilliam seated himself, elbow on the table and chin resting on his hand, staring at Squidward. "You look cute when you eat, Squiddy."

"What's that?" Squidward asked, fork tines still poised between rows of teeth.

"I said you look good in that suit." Okay, so he only took the gay down a notch. Good enough.

"Oh, uh - thank you. You look, um, good...too." Squidward eyed him suspiciously. Stirring his iced tea with a gentle slow motion as he looked at Squidward, Squilliam looked downright sexy.

"It's very striking for a peasant-suit. Where'd you get it?"

"Fine Tailoring, down Coral Avenue."

"Hmm. Rather upscale for a cashier."

Squilliam's condescension grated on him. "A little intelligent planning, and I can easily afford to have the finer things in my life."

"And you chose your finest clothes for our little afternoon affair. I'm touched."

They discussed such things as when the bassoonist got a boner for the flutist and kept trying to cover it with sheet music and hit the flutist on the head with the bassoon, when the sheet music was all changed to be "school is out for summer", and so forth.

Squilliam dabbed at his lips with a fancy monogrammed napkin. "Remember when our senior year history teacher called you Squidward Testacles and called me Squilliam Faggyson? During roll call or something."

Squidward swallowed about five sips of hot tea at once, burning his throat. He tried to save face by nibbling on a scone. "Actually, that's what he always called me." His face burned red.

"He was such a pedo anyway. The way he'd leer at me sometimes, I'd swear he was. You didn't want to do anything about him, though, just finish out the year."

"He really shouldn't have insulted the richest kid in the city."

"And his boyfriend." Squilliam sipped his tea. "Really, Squiddy, there's no shame in fighting that kind of sexual harassment, especially when you have a kickass legal team."

"Thanks again for giving me the settlement money."

"It's not as if I needed it. Besides, that wasn't the real settlement anyway."

Oh, Neptune, Squidward thought. The real settlement.

"Remember that, Squiddy? Revenge sex is the best, isn't it?"

"Maybe for you it was."

"You know what I mean. I liked other times better probably, but the thrill...Getting up on the desk of your homophobic teacher and making a sweet symphony together while he stands guard outside. It's the stuff of fantasies."

"Maybe your fantasies." Squidward sipped his tea, while Squilliam licked the tip of his scone seductively. Squidward put a hand to his cheek as he began to blush. "Okay, so it was pretty hot. But it wasn't the best."

"Oh, I knew that. You took a few years to perfect your style."

"Okay, Squilliam, you really need to stop with -"

"Why are you acting so high and mighty suddenly, Squiddy? It's not like I was the one who suggested we fuck on the teacher's desk. I just asked that he apologize to you sincerely, and you said you weren't satisfied that it was genuine. I loved your spontaneity, as if caution was a foreign concept to you. I liked that the most about you, I think. Too bad it ended up destroying you."

"Now, wait a minute, I didn't 'destroy myself,'" in an indignant tone, Squidward protested this characterization of him, already nervous about his bringing out their prior relations.

"You didn't think about what would happen if you didn't succeed, even after it was glaringly obvious you wouldn't."

"Hold on! It's never been 'glaringly obvious' as you put it, that I wouldn't succeed! Why, just last month I composed a critically acclaimed symphony for the Bikini Bottom Symphony Orchestra, I'll have you know."

"Oh, yes, I heard about that." More than heard about it; he'd purchased a copy of the score on opening night and rhapsodized about it over a glass of sauvignon-blanc. "Congratulations, honey; apparently you did learn something about composition during your stay at community college. Four years, was it?"

Squidward wasn't sure whether to be pissed at his haughty demeanor or to be grateful that he wasn't coming up with a way to turn his accomplishment to dust.

Squilliam said, "Still, you're not a working composer like I am, so why didn't you ever open up a restaurant, or get into some kind of business, be an art dealer or something? There are plenty you'd be successful in, yet you stubbornly cling to your fast food drudgery."

"I have my priorities. My art comes first, even if it means putting up with a job like this."

"But this isn't the life you want, I'm sure."

"Maybe you're right, Squilliam. Maybe it's all pointless after all."

"Eugh. Squidward, you are so fascinating, but you are such a downer. Why don't you relax in the spa for awhile? Here's some soap, an herbal mix, and bath beads." He handed the bath items (contained in a fancy woven basket) to Squidward.

Squidward didn't think it particularly strange that Squilliam carried these with him to tea. The guy walked around in a robe, after all.