In retrospect, a Snail meowing to death would sound different from a literal infant struggling with its survival.
Pro: He might have just saved a literal baby from freezing to death from the seeping touch of the winter season.
Con: Then again, He still had no idea how to deal with this.
It seemed like his mind was stuck in a 10 hour loop of shock. All he could do at the moment was stand there, mouth embarrassingly agape, his thoughts scrambled, trapped and numb. There was a literal baby, a sponge one at that, in front of his neighbor's house during that one-in-a-million day where the said neighbor actually left Bikini Bottom to visit his parents. And the one left to deal with this…. predicament? It was a very wrathful, easily annoyed, and most definitely not a motherly person: Squidward Freaking Tentacles.
If he wasn't the one in this situation and was just watching literally anyone else struggle with raising a child with no prior knowledge (or without even being the same species), then he would've applauded the cosmic joke. Well played Universe, well played.
Yet with all the fishes, octopodes, crabs or other aquatic animals living in the entire ocean, he's the one. Squidward wasn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted.
The infant in question had its eyes shut. Its sponge body was purple- or it might be lilac with that tinge of pink. Curiously enough, it didn't have the collection of freckles like… Squidward shook his head at that. He steered clear of that pointless thoughts, the ones relating to another sponge he knows, and focused all his attention to the one in front of him. There are better things to do, after all; like actually taking some action.
Giving off a huff, Squidward grabbed the box and tried not to jostle the little child inside. Having multiple arms or tentacles was actually useful for once- unlike most of the times where they just cause more pain when he gets in accidents. With one moronic and one head-in-the-clouds neighbor, said accidents happen more often than he'd like (which is never). Don't mind the fact that he doesn't really think it's an "accident" when his neighbors cost him bodily harm… Assault would be his first choice if asked with the wording.
The walk towards his own doorstep was astonishingly uneventful for him. Idly, he wondered if karma decided to leave him for a moment with real luck, since the day was passing quickly without him having some sort of injury. Maybe he'll trip the moment he sets down the box, or another house-sized pineapple would fall out of the sky.
With a quiet 'click', his door opened without any resistance. He awkwardly tried to maneuver the box to fit inside his door- but failed. Of coursethere would be an extra obstacle to every eleven minutes of his life. Karma, or perhaps simply all his misfortune, was back. Squidward decided to place down the box on the ground as he decided what his next course of action should be.
"I have to hold this thing now?" He asked aloud, a rhetorical question. His voice held the same contempt he always had, hiding the real terror within him. The empty space did not answer back, only gave an indication to his question with the way the infant tossed and turned, as if uncomfortable.
If he was truly honest, kicking the box to get it to fit inside but disturbing (or causing a mild heart attack) the sleeping infant did cross his mind. But he wasn't a total monster (he wasn't he wasn't he wasn't), that's why he resisted the urge as he bent down, leaned close, but jerked his tentacle back at the last second.
"What is wrong with me?" He muttered to himself, not as a deprecating thought, but more of a tired and curious one.
"Do you want a list?" He imagined his rival saying. Of course, if Squiliam was here, he'd probably hire a dozen nannies for the kid or use the abandoned child for free publicity. His rival would be on television and newspapers (what else is new?) for saving the infant out of the "Goodness of his Heart". The thought made Squidward absolutely sick. But how could he claim to be better than his rival, when he couldn't even get himself to pick up a starving, close to freezing child for its own safety?
Could he be better? Would he be able to…
"Oh grow a fucking pair, Tentacles." He heard his inner conscience growling at him, and at that point it wasn't exactly a surprise that it's as rude as he is. So he manned up, disregarded every thought screeching 'this is wrong, I shouldn't be doing this, I will make its suffering worse', and lifted.
The infant was indeed cold, and for a moment that seemed like eternity Squidward felt like absolute garbage that shouldn't be near anyone below 18 years old… but he managed to overcome that sensation. Nobody would tell him he is doing something wrong this time. He was alone- no one here to judge him, no one to dismiss his art, no one to make him realize what a failure he'd been, and no one would make him feel like he doesn't belong.
But the doubt still resonated within.
Before he could even take one single step, the little thing shifted in his arms, and Squidward froze, terrified. Was he right to be scared? He wondered if this was the part when the child not yet capable of thinking for his/her own would reject him, as everyone he encountered does it eventually. Sometimes without him doing anything to earn their disapproval.
Instead, the infant snuggled deeper into his arms, as if wanting to get closer to him. Squidward glanced around to see if some aliens were attacking or cuddle bears appeared from thin air. Nothing was out of the ordinary: so nope, not a dream. His eyes snapped back to his arms, skeptical but the evidence was undeniable.
It was so surreal, that he couldn't quite comprehend it at first. Does it not know that it was in the literal arms of the worst person in bikini bottom? Or at least, the most hated one?
The weight drowning him earlier dissipated quicker than its formation. He couldn't understand the warmth that settled in him right after, or why his lips slowly but surely turned up in a smile. Even his glare left, and his eyes lack he usual boredom. Instead, he was enthralled.
Even if the little sponge didn't exactly have the ability to think properly yet, or have any understanding of the word 'trust' at the moment… Squidward couldn't help the sudden affection that made him want to hug someone or something, even if a part of him knew and was screeching that the child only wanted warmth, not him specifically.
Wistfully, he wondered what he might've looked like to a passing stranger. Did he look like a love stricken father, or a hungry Octopus staring at a Krabby Patty?
He chuckled at the thought, shaking his head and mentally thanking Neptune that he was alone. Although alone would not be right, if he was to add the purple sponge to his solitude. Surprising even himself, he wondered why that didn't bother him at all; Thinking of himself as a father, or the fact that he is willing to share his space to a sponge.
Squidward's serenity faded as he heard the blaring 'krriiiiing' of his telephone. As if snapping back to his usual facade, he shoved all his thinking into the deepest corner of his mind and frowned. He shook away his foolish, pesky and complicated feelings, and convinced himself that he should not get attached. After all, nothing lasts forever and feelings can change. No need to burden himself with false hope and wishful thinking.