Okay, here's chapter two. Just more buckets full of fluff. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.

Special Thanks

Sandy's Treedome, though its air was deadly to water breathers, welcomed any critter into its humble fortress – provided said critter wasn't there to spy on her or steal one of her precious inventions – during all seasons. Spring and summer were a glimpse into the world of surface parks, warm picnic blankets, fresh grass and trees, and heaps of strange bugs and lemonade. Fall and winter were two cozy presents ready to be opened and cherished under the tree, near a fire reminiscent of an expensive lodge in the mountains. The contrasting icicle weather made for a homely and heartwarming retreat.

The air dome was the body; the treehouse served as the heart. The way its current sheet of warmth draped over the center of the living room area demonstrated that sentimental idea, complimented by the dim, orangey glow flowing from the fireplace, as well as the festive light strings stretched across each wall. The place looked like a fall lover's dreamland, and SpongeBob's agape mouth and glistening eyes agreed with it.

"Wowwwww. This place looks so cool, Sandy!"

Sandy's eyes followed his every twist and turn as she placed the brown cupcake bag down on the wooden island in the kitchen. She was pleased someone else was here to appreciate the time she'd taken to decorate.

SpongeBob jumped around and pointed to each area."Just look at that! Oh, and that! And this, too!– whoa... "

His jaw didn't hang open due to the new glass acorn collection decorating the fireplace mantle, or because of the massive, circular, red and brown rug with a carefully crafted cowboy hat straight in its center (although both were spectacles). His creative curiosity was fixated on a large space on the wall that exhibited a peculiar but captivating, artistic feat.

Sandy chuckled at his awestruck reaction and stood beside him. Above them was a row of six small canvases, each bursting with vibrant colors that proclaimed its aliveness to the world. Sandy was by no means a professional artist, but she had been practicing not letting her nasty perfectionism control her like it had done that time she worked her tail off to paint dozens of ships in bottles.

"Did you paint these?"

"Sure did, every one of 'em." She shut her eyes, her hands planted proudly on her hips.

"Wow. They're sooo amazing!"

Sandy's eyes popped back open. She hadn't expected such intense praise. Then again, this was SpongeBob, who was intense in every way… with everything.

"Well, golly! I don't know if I'd say that. They're just simple, is all. Didn't even take me that long to make 'em."

"That's even more impressive! I knew you were a talented person, but wow! I could stare at these all night."

Her hand found its way to the back of her head to rub it. She shifted her focus to the ceiling. "Aww. Well, I appreciate that, Spongy. Thanks."

"Oh, you're welcome."

He was extra warm and charming tonight, or so the cozy buzzing in her stomach told her.

SpongeBob stepped forward and stood on his toes to gently pick up the top left painting. He held it close and gazed with admiration at the time and effort she'd put into portraying a scene of herself and her family seated on horseback, each smiling and waving at the "camera."

Her lines were imperfect but uniquely her own style. SpongeBob had great respect for artists, seeing that he was a bit of one himself. But his nonjudgmental attitude allowed him to be far less critical and more appreciative of hard work and creativity, which partially explained why he was the only person who liked Squidward's artwork other than Squidward himself.

Speaking of the cephalopod…

"Have you shown these to Squidward yet? I think he'd just love them!" he said as he continued to scan each painting.

His boundless enthusiasm was inspiring, but she knew if she took his advice, Squidward's unfounded snobbishness and inevitable nitpicking towards her work would likely end in her using his head as a hole puncher for one of her masterpieces. Sandy had patience even with dunderheads, but not with those who pretended they weren't.

Sandy returned to the kitchen and filled a wooden, acorn-shaped teapot with water. "Naw, not yet. In fact, I ain't so sure that's a good idea."

"Oh, don't be silly. Squidward loves art! Remember his painting at dinner?"

"Yeah, unfortunately," she mumbled. Squidward wasn't an objectively bad artist. He just needed to find a muse that wasn't always staring at him from a mirror.

"But uh, maybe I will show him sometime if I can catch him in a good mood," she laughed because she knew that was rare.

SpongeBob stood back, leaning his weight on one leg. "Well, I'm sure he'd be really impressed. I mean, just look at what you've done with these!" he came closer to the wall again and dragged his finger under each painting.

"The way you painted this basket of acorns; this bee-utiful shade of green you used for your tree; this table of chemicals – ooh, love the pink puff of smoke coming out of that vial," he turned around and grinned at her, causing her to mimic him.

"You and the Gal Pals havin' fun; me… "

If his smile disappeared any slower, his facial muscles could compete against Patrick's brain power (or lack thereof).

Sandy froze mid-grab at the cup cabinet. It took a second for his discovery to land in her thinking. Once it did, she casually pulled out two round teacups and plates and faced the island again.

"Yup, that's you."

She had expected to be the only eyes to have the pleasure of viewing the picture for a while. Now he was viewing it, up close and without the blabbering he was doing before. Was there something off about it? Did she paint his nose too big? She had admired his cute little nose for years; one would think she'd be able to get it right.

The tenderhearted tension he created when he turned to look at her made any doubts she had disintegrate.

SpongeBob resisted clenching his chest where his heart beat rapidly and squeezed him inside. On an average day, he would feel equally as touched, but also able to hold himself together slightly better. It was a simple portrait: an open-mouthed smile, eyebrows raised, a thumb's up while standing in front of a sky-blue background. Yet it was warming his tear ducts.

He held the picture up in front of him. "W-why me? And why does it look so beautiful? And how did you get it so accurate? And why–"

"Well, for starters, I'm around ya a lot, so I'm pretty dang sure I have your face memorized," she laughed. "Second of all, y'all are my best friend. I knew Thanksgivin' was comin' up, and I was feelin' a little sentimental and wanted to do somethin' special to celebrate."

"B-best… friend?"

"'Course. You've always been the closest critter to me. Always been so kind and so helpful…" she gestured to the wall. "All them paintings, includin' the one you're holdin', represent all the things and critters I'm grateful for. You're one of 'em, SpongeBob."

He looked closer at the sparkling effect on his eyes. He squinted; it took a few moments for him to decipher tiny silver gemstones glued to his pupils.

She wasn't kidding. She indeed had his face memorized perfectly. And now he knew which feature of his was her favorite.

He could turn into a sprinkler at her meaningful words if it weren't for the thought wave that contained all the mushy things he loved about her, as well. That pink nose; those teddy bear-like ears through which he desired to brush his hand; the fact that she was as proud of her buckteeth as he was of his.

But mostly, it was her strong yet caring nature that balanced him out that made him feel safe and welcome in her presence. He loved that she always listened to his troubles and helped him in ways nobody else had even thought of or would bother to do. Just the thought of one of her all-consuming hugs blanketed his stomach with serenity.

"Gee, Sandy, I-I really don't know what to say…"

"Ya don't gotta say nothin'." She smiled at him soothingly. "In fact, why don't ya take a gander at that pile of magazines on the coffee table over there? They've got lots of fun stuff to look at."

"Ooh!" he bit his lip excitedly, then shot her a suspicious look. "Hey, wait a minute. Those aren't anything like the old magazines they have in doctor's offices, are they? Patrick warned me about those once. Yeesh!" he shuddered.

"No, silly-head. I got them in the mail, not from no doctor's office. Besides, I said they had fun stuff."

"Oh, yeah. Heh, Just checking."

Sandy watched SpongeBob nonchalantly while she scraped the excess orange frosting off the paper bag. The cupcakes sat neatly on their plates. Their unusual pumpkin shape, and the orange, ice-cream swirl style frosting with purple sprinkles pulled on Sandy's attention like a toddler. She almost felt guilty, knowing that she only had one chance a year to indulge in them.

SpongeBob was around often, but she still found the way he caringly placed his portrait back on the wall, clasped his hands, and twisted his legs together like a little fairy to be a far more worthy investment of her focus.

Gosh-dang-it, he was adorable. The lopsided smile appearing on her face did the admitting to that sentiment for her. Her dough eyes followed him to the coffee table where he sat down and picked up each magazine with more of that innocent wonder. With every flip of the page, his eyes reflected the dancing flames in the fireplace. They expressed his joy in simple things. They drew her in. And soon, she was floating into another ethereal vision of him sitting on a park bench, his aura glowing bright white as leaves showered around him, and the music of nature surrounded him.

A park sure sounded like a nice place to have that date. If only things had gone more smoothly for them. If only Squidward hadn't been watching like the bozo he was. If only SpongeBob wasn't such a goofball. A sweet, kindhearted, cuddly Knucklehead McSpazatron.

As she had said about him in the past, sometimes he was as dumb as a sack of peanuts. But when one gets the privilege of spending time with someone, getting lost in having fun, and learning to lovingly embrace each other's flaws, that person could embrace all of the other person. Sandy recognized that. She knew he did too when he looked up and locked those glittering, ocean-like crystal eyes onto hers.

The silent power of a facial conversation fell upon them. That seldom happened for them; there was always so much to talk about. Science experiments, karate, the next new brand of Snail-Po at Barg N' Mart – there were limitless possibilities with his constantly-moving mouth. Sometimes his mindless babbling drove her up her tree (and Squidward up the nose of his house).

But that was okay, because she was grateful to have been a part of such a unique fella's life. Besides, she'd invited him in to chat for the evening. Although, she didn't mind the current quietude.

Leave it up to SpongeBob to pop such a treasure of a moment with his words, as if he'd brought his sharp doodling pencil.

"Hey, Sandy, check this thing out," he said as he rose to his feet and squeaked his shoes over next to her behind the kitchen island.

Sandy leaned down to look at an open page of the "Texas Home Life" magazine, its cover adorned with an image of a child's swing set hanging from an autumn tree in the front yard of a large house. She smiled sweetly at the reddish-orange, heart-shaped decoration that glowed on a desk inside a bedroom.

"Oh, yeah! I remember this catchin' my eye last time I flipped through."

"Isn't it pretty?"

"Sure is."

"It reminds me of all the lights here in the treehouse!"

When he glanced around at said brightness, she followed suit. She managed to sneak a fond glance at him through her side vision. Her confidence grew in her painting of him; while creating it, she had tried to put herself in his childlike position. It wasn't easy at all, but being with him right now reinvigorated that feeling.

SpongeBob held the magazine as close to his helmet as he could get it, staring at it with half-lidded eyes. He sighed deeply. "So romantical."

Was that another mindless babble, or had he – rather, his heart – intended to say it?

Both of their smiles disappeared. His awkward expression shifted up to meet her questioning one, creating an endearing mess of hilarity and charm.

"I-I mean, y'know, 'c-cause of the fiery glow… in the– "

"Heart?"

"Y-yeah. Definitely not the fiery glow here in your treehouse. Pffffft. What is this, some kinda love tavern? Bahahaha! Hahaha… ha." He casually chucked the magazine back to the table, having it land perfectly on top of all the others.

If she were the type of person to misinterpret someone's attempt to lift the tension, she might be offended by his rush to ignore the manatee in the room. This was SpongeBob, by far the most affectionate guy in town. But something in the back of her mind told her he might still be struggling with the almost-date incident to let things go too far down the road of mushy, lovey-dovey aspirations.

Clearly, he felt the same as she did. She could see the emotional longing in his eyes, which felt strange to even acknowledge because he was the epitome of naivety. Just because he enjoyed those cheesy, heart-melting, chocolaty rom-coms, and sometimes played matchmaker, didn't mean he needed to pursue his own romantic dreams… even though he tried to do so just weeks ago.

Whatever his state of mind, she didn't want to push him too far. So she giggled with him while removing the boiling water from the stove and filling their teacups.

"Right? I mean, who needs all that love junk for anyhow?"

"You said it, sister. Yuck!"

The two shared in their feigned world of certainty as steam puffed out from the cups. SpongeBob took the opportunity to unleash his face full of pain at the air while she turned her back to pull out some napkins. It killed him to speak so poorly of love, especially with that sincere artistic expression of it glaring at him from across the room.

"Yup. Love is for the birds," she said, finally sinking her buckteeth into her cupcake. Her eyes reflected the inner bliss she felt tasting that delectable frosting.

SpongeBob tipped his helmet to sip his tea. "Don't you mean, for the scallops? I've heard they mate for life. Bahaha!"

"Haha! Good point," she gulped her tea. "I guess we could say the same for old married folks, too. There ain't nothin' like a wrinkled old fool and a saggin' gal puttin' up with each other for a few decades."

"Or centuries."

Silent staring ensued before they risked choking on their drinks from laughter. His response reminded her of his sense of humor in their first few years of friendship. He had always been funny, but back then, he had an edgier tone to his whole personality. Time seemed to have made him even more childish in some ways. Moments like this brought out those old quirks.

"Bahahaha! 'Sagging'. Bahaha! Oh, Sandy, I can't breathe! I can't breatheeee!"

"Maybe put your helmet back on?"

"Oh, yeah! Good idea." He reached his hands out to the island, only to put air over his head. Sandy put a fist to her mouth to cover her next laughter outburst while he confusedly felt around his face.

"Hey, my helmet is on, missy!"

SpongeBob found it impossible to wear his serious, offended face as she died of the giggles. Seeing her lose her mind at his expense only made him push her "love is junk" comment further out of his thinking.

She was the cutest, most lovable, closest-to-his-favorite-stuffed-animal person he knew – even when her anger was like an atom bomb. It didn't matter; he still adored her. She was also the strongest, most intelligent, and most skilled person he'd ever met. Sometimes that made him feel inferior, mostly when she would explain a complicated science experiment that he couldn't understand, or how she was able to lift a forty or fifty-pound item with one arm, while he had trouble dragging a twig to build a fire.

Right now, he felt nothing but admiration and unconditional acceptance toward those differences.

"Thanks, Sandy."

Sandy wiped away a joyful tear. "For what?"

"For being one of my most amazing friends. And also for being you. Oh, and for inviting me in for tea and painting that picture of me. Oh! And for– "

"Once again, I get it," she chuckled, holding up a hand.

"Heh, sorry." He rubbed his knuckle nervously and tore off a piece of his cupcake. "My point is, I'm grateful for sooo many things just like you are: the Krusty Krab, my pineapple, Squidward… "

Sandy raised an eyebrow at him reflecting on his and Squidward's "friendship."

"But right now, the thing I'm most grateful for is you. I'm grateful for how smart you are, your funniness, your beauty– uh, your beautiful sense of adventure and excitement. You always make me happy. Even happier than bubble-blowing! Well, sometimes," he laughed. "I love– er, really like getting to hang out with you. I always have since the day we met."

Sandy's expression melted into a gentle, fond smile that rarely appeared. It was on her face to stay as he popped the piece of the cupcake into his mouth, puffing out both of cheeks as he chewed.

He thought she was funny? She guessed his laughter toward her "sagging" comment was just a result of his finding everything hilarious.

She looked at the ground to hide her cheeks' flattered coloring, distracted by the floating images of the aforementioned Jellyfish Fields meeting. Thank goodness that giant clam had assaulted her that day, or else she never would've met this fellow.

"Thanks, SpongeBob. You make me happy, too," she said softly.

His words were simple, but the sensations they created in her chest made her mentally retract her statement from earlier. His sincerity, freedom of expressing his gratitude, and the way the fall glow around them highlighted his boyishly handsome features – she was losing connection with the rational side of her brain. She might as well have dressed up in those old overalls, licked her teeth, and said, "Squirrels is dumb."

This time, his loud interruption couldn't fully break her trance.

"WOOO! Oh, boy, this is delicious! Wow!" he swallowed the chunk he had been chewing. "I've never tasted anything like this. Sandy, your mother is a baking wizard!"

Her laughter came out sounding much more flirtatious than she had intended. "Shucks, I'm glad ya like it! It's been in my family for ages. But I still can't get my ma to give me the dang recipe. Stubborn ol' squirrelly."

"Well," he shoved the rest of the cupcake into his mouth, "when you get a chance, could you please beg her to give it to you, so we can have these more often? Mmm!"

Sandy resisted cracking up again at his giant cheeks and how he sounded with all that food rolling around in there. And people thought she looked funny when she stored nuts for winter.

"Sure, I'll try. But there ain't no guarantee. Oh, and SpongeBob, you got a little somethin' right there," she pointed to a small area on her own mouth, lifting the weight off the fact that the whole bottom half of his face was covered in orange frosting.

SpongeBob touched his mouth area, making his hand sticky. "Oh, oops! Heh, guess I got a little carried away."

She smiled reassuringly at his embarrassment and pulled off his helmet, setting it to the side.

"That's okay, buddy. I'll get it for ya."

"Thanks."

The crackling fireplace took over the conversation as she grabbed a pile of napkins and leaned toward his face to clean up his mess. The cold air provided a hint of moisture, which would hopefully keep him from drying out for a minute. She had a lot of skin to tend to.

Squishy, brightly colored skin. Skin that she'd never been this close to before. As each dab and wipe uncovered more of it, her eyes went into automatic study mode toward his nose, chin, and – the area that made her eyelids droop – those yellow lips.

SpongeBob found her ears, nose, and strange smile to be interesting, but he wasn't as aware as he could've been at that moment, as oftentimes happened when the obvious was literally staring him in the face.

"You know, speaking of your mom, did you notice she seemed to really smile a lot when she looked at us from across the table? She seemed so happy."

"Uh-huh, I noticed."

"And your brother did, too. And, well, actually, your whole family. I guess they must be as grateful for you as you are for them."

"Yeah."

Her voice nearly faded into the crackling noises. Those freckles were a little distracting, too.

The frosting was all gone now; there was no reason for her thumb to be caressing imaginary crumbs off his cheek. Or for her face to be inching closer to his.

SpongeBob's alertness pushed at the wall of his thoughts, but her eyes began to pull him into the sugary land she had created. Maybe eating that whole cupcake in (almost) one bite had messed with his perception.

"Hey, Sandy?" he licked his lips, which she watched.

"Huh?"

"Has anyone ever told you your eyes look like floating balls of fudge?"

Said pieces of fudge spun out in the blue diamonds staring back at her.

She shook her head slowly, enthralled by his being such a "darlin'."

He couldn't stay quiet for long, could he?

There had to be a way to shut him up.

"They really do. Why, they could even be called 'dessert planets', baha!"

He lowered his voice to sound like the manliest astronaut he could imagine.

"San Antonio, we have a problem– "

He flinched, and his eyes grew into planets of their own. It was difficult to search her planets when she had them closed.

He flew back to the present moment, as did his racing heart and shaky hands that he couldn't decide where to put on her. The anxiety that zipped through his body like a rocket made him tense up. Luckily, though, Sandy's lips affectionately pouring all her gratitude into his helped him to relax into her safely. He fluttered his eyes closed and rested his hands on her shoulders, rubbing his fingers over her fuzzy purple sweater.

This was a rude interruption, no doubt. But it had to be done. He awkwardly tried to match the pressure she applied to his mouth. He had acted suave the day he kissed her helmet at their "play" wedding, but right now, there was no denying he had never had any previous practice. Pecking Grandma SquarePants or Squidward on the cheek didn't count.

The quiet atmosphere blanketed this moment in peace. Both of their stomachs and throats tightened with emotion, especially Sandy's. Squeezing his sides was an inadequate outlet for her passion and, dare she say, love. She wanted to wrap him like a toy for Christmas, but tasting each other's cupcakes was already overwhelming. She had to exercise a little self-control.

SpongeBob felt comforted by her warm fur against his face. The way she held him and unwittingly rubbed noses with him was gentle but firm and so sweet, albeit unusual for her typical body language. He wasn't sure he wanted this to end. But after eight seconds, it had to.

Sandy loosened her lips from his and pulled them away gently. SpongeBob wasn't anticipating her to end it that soon. He tipped forward as if expecting her to go back in. Each let out a long, heavy breath. The cartoonish 'smack' sound when the kiss ended felt surreal to hear, and their noses brushing again made SpongeBob shiver.

They slowly reopened their eyes, SpongeBob bringing his up to view her resting her forehead against his. His fluttering eyelashes tickled her fur, infecting her with deeper infatuation. She wanted to stay here all night acquainting herself with more of his skin. She gazed at his forehead before pulling hers back and meeting his eyes again.

The air between them now felt more strangely intimate than every year they'd gotten to know each other better – a remarkably bizarre moment.

Did this really just happen?

Sandy stared at him with a dazed, sleepy expression. She sighed blissfully and allowed her paw to return to his cheek and smooth it. His lips were as saccharine as he was, which could've just been the flavor residue from the frosting. Nevertheless, nothing had ever felt so satisfying. The more she thought about them, the closer she felt to her "squirrels is dumb" self and the more she wanted to kiss that doofus again.

She smiled for half a second before her vision cleared. The little sponge, still three inches from her face, had never looked so precious and stuffed with questions he was too hypnotized to ask. His eyes remained wide and glassy as they searched hers, then he shifted them down to what she had used to contradict her words about love.

His cheeks had grown rose-red. Seeing them made hers turn daisy pink. Sandy's throat re-tightened when he placed a hand against his lips; he was incredulous that hers had just been there.

His innocence threatened to strangle her insides. She desired to hug his doubts away, but she needed to restrain herself this time. She let go of him, guilt spreading across her face as he turned from her to face the island.

So much for not pushing him too far.

Didn't he like it, though? Maybe he kissed back because he didn't have the guts or the strength to push such a physically strong woman away. Or, being SpongeBob, he didn't want to be rude.

Her next words came out unintentionally breathy. Her heart's drum began beating faster and faster at the sight of that confused critter whom she had just forced herself upon. She couldn't help herself, which sounded like a terrible and cliché excuse when she thought about it. Wasn't that what dudes said to women after drunkenly hitting on them at an adult ice cream bar?

"Uhh, SpongeBob?"

"Yes?"

His far-off stare into space made her wonder if remaining close to him could be confusing him more. The tone around them had grown too delicate for the right words to help them understand the point of all this; how a simple celebration with friends and family had thrown them onto a path this unexpected.

"Are you okay?"

"Why, yes, I'm okay." His voice was calm and soft, but also dry from the lack of water. He felt around the island without looking and picked up his helmet, holding it in front of him as if deciding whether or not he should rehydrate himself. What if that one kiss wasn't enough for her?

"I didn't hurt ya, did I?"

"No. Not at all."

"SpongeBob?"

"Hmm?"

"Listen, I-I'm really sorry."

"Sorry for what, Sandra?"

He was kidding, right? His face continued in shock, while his hushed demeanor only served to confound her.

"Well, for kissin' ya like that, of course! I came on too strong. I can see it in your face. I should've had more self-control. Ya just… " she rubbed the back of her head. "Yeesh. This might sound a little weird, maybe even a teensy cheesy, but doggone it, your kisser looked so darn kissable! And your lil' nose is just– I-I mean, y'all are the sweetest– y-your eyes looked all– oh!"

Her highly efficient brain seldom computed incorrectly. She had invented every machine imaginable; she built and piloted her own rocket ships; she could understand walnuts and acorns through a nut translator, for Neptune's sake! Yet her mind was shredding words like paper because of this tiny-brained, pure-hearted creature. No one else had the power to do that to her.

"What I'm tryin' to say is, I really like you, SpongeBob. But sayin' that ain't even necessary, is it? I think I've made it obvious enough."

SpongeBob swallowed hard and squeezed his now-clammy fingers over his palms.

"My family knows I like ya, which is why they were givin' us the ol' Cupid's eye at dinner. I like your little square behind so much– I-I mean! No, not your actual behind! That came out way wrong. Darn it." She facepalmed and slumped over the island. "Sorry."

SpongeBob finally lowered his helmet over his head. Normally, a slip like that would've killed him with laughter. His countenance still translated as "frozen robot," because it needed time to catch up with the whirlwind of excitement her adoring actions and words had created within him.

He knew she cared. He knew she did love him in a way, but he was always unsure if she could ever let her affection grow deep enough to match his. After all, she wasn't known for having open-hearted feelings beyond friendliness towards others, and he thought that included him. Her heart wasn't nearly as tender as his. At least, not on the surface; she disliked showing people her tears, for one.

Thinking back to her qualities he was grateful for, it was her firmness in making a move that lit a fireworks fuse of bravery under him.

A touching tribute to him through a painting, her honest and cordial ways of communication, and displaying her value of their friendship all mattered greatly; however, none of them had erased the weeks of his discomfiting self-battles over his failure at asking her out like the emotional and physical act of sharing her lips with his.

And now, her tripping over her words uncharacteristically, letting her wholesome opinions of him flow out, not to mention his remembering her family's faces, as well as Mr. Krabs and Squidward teasing him about their "special relationship" – everything clicked like the last piece of a Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy card collection!

Both had grown quiet for the last minute. His back continued to face her. He was too thrilled about his upcoming explosion to consider that she might've been allowing him to collect his thoughts.

And was he ever. Sandy, on the other paw, hadn't successfully fixed the glitch in her brain yet. She stared at the floor, her eyes narrowed and her hand rubbing her chin. She figured she'd be adding crumpled paper to the fire if she allowed her mouth to spew any more cloying statements about how wonderful he was.

Had Ma Cheeks added a not-so-kid-friendly ingredient to those cupcakes, or had Sandy somehow accidentally spiked the tea? She did feel a tad woozy after that smooch.

"Don't be sorry, Sandy… please."

Her eyes and ears perked up. The hand under her chin froze in its place. What could he mean by that? What didn't she have to feel sorry for? She was keeping her best friend out late and had stolen a kiss from him – his first kiss, no less. Not that he would come out and admit that anytime soon.

She shook her head and squinted hard. Sometimes even his non-annoying side was ten times more exasperating.

"Wha– but why, SpongeBob? Don'tcha feel– "

Those concerns jumped out the door to make room for her heart to start running again.

SpongeBob sent his helmet flying onto the cowboy hat rug. It stabilized its miraculous landing by shaking and spinning like a dime dropped on asphalt. Nothing more than a few drops of water stained the rug. Either some mysterious force didn't allow for it break, or this was a new plastic helmet.

"I…"

Sandy took a step back. "SpongeBob, what are ya doin'?"

"Feel…"

She bit her lip and grew tense. There was always some big declaration – good or bad – whenever he stacked the volume of his tone like this.

"AMAZING!"

Seeing him pump his fists into the air like he had scored a touchdown (if he knew how to play sports or "sportz") was enough to breathe life and relief back into her system. What electrocuted her with surprise at first, then exhilarated her face and stomach was the reasoning behind his discarding the helmet after a few seconds of having it on: he didn't want it in the way.

SpongeBob spun around and threw his arms around her. He pressed himself as close as he could against her, standing on his tippy toes. He relished her warmth and coziness, burying his face in her shoulder. He took back what he'd said years ago about squirrels being stinky; she smelled like a musky, fairytale woodland and a refreshing sea breeze had the most beautiful baby!

"Oh, Sandy, thank you! Thank you for giving me the kiss of my life!"

The tightness in Sandy's chest was making it hard to breathe properly. The emotions flooding from his voice into her ear both overwhelmed and comforted her inside. She had a passing thought to forgive her brother Randy for his constant teasing. It would be great if she could also apologize to him for her karate-chopping threats, though. But she couldn't focus too much of her energy on that right now with this sponge squeezing her so hard. Maybe he'd been lifting heavier stuffed animal barbells.

"Uh…" she let out a breathy chuckle and returned his embrace. "You're so welcome, SpongeBob… I think." She laughed a little louder, unbelieving of the words walking out of her mouth.

"I am so happy to hear you say all those words. I like you, too. No, more than that. Love is not junk; it is not just for the scallops or for the birds or whatever animal of your choice. It's for everyone. It's for you, it's for me. I-it's making me cry. It's– oh, Sandy, I love you!"

There it was, the culmination of over twenty years of friendship. Not even the kiss could express the depth of their joy for each other in this moment as well as that wholesomely passionate statement did. It meant everything to hear it from the most genuine critter she'd had the pleasure of knowing.

"Aw, heck!" she squeezed him tighter until his feet lifted off the ground. Her sweater absorbed (pun intended) his spongy tears. "I love you too, Spongy, as a friend and as– "

"A date, perhaps?"

Sandy's eyes popped open. She pulled back, keeping her arms around him, and gawked at his new confidence. A few weeks ago, she'd been left in a pool of sympathy toward his first attempt. Seeing him take off with a small storm of tears behind him hadn't hurt just him. Of course, she had thought about squirreling up and taking away the burden of asking, but things had grown awkward and a bit touchy for them until the last few days.

A smile slowly formed. Now she understood the "point" of the events leading up to this. It had to be more than a pattern of simple choices. Someone up there had planned for this to happen, and for that, she had gratitude.

Watching the elation bursting out of his features made her so proud of him for taking another step.

"A date, huh?"

"You betcha. In fact, I know a real swell place where we can–" he winked, his tone smug, "have a boat mobile load of fun."

And there was that hilariously fake debonair attitude from their "wedding day" and other times. Now it was more than a step – it was a plane ride, a jump, and a fall. She couldn't let him roll around in his overconfidence for too long.

"Hmm, ya mean like, oh, I don't know, the park?"

His nose deflated with a sad balloon sound effect to accompany it.

"Heh, heh, looks like you're a mind reader."

"Well, technically, I can be. Just have to have the right invention handy."

They smirked, then reached around each other for another loving embrace after laughing some more. It was a valuable thing to know one another so well and to have such a close bond based on kindness, empathy, and lighthearted fun. Well, as lighthearted as kissing a friend and crying about it could be.

"Shall we say, 3-ish next Saturday?"

His calm yet cheery voice tickled her ear. She rolled her eyes but followed the urge to nuzzle the side of his head. "You bet your butt this Saturday!"

"Oh, there you go with my butt again!" he pulled away and wagged his finger at her. "Now, Sandra, don't think because it says, 'Property of Sandy Cheeks', you can just help yourself to it any time you want." He rocked back and forth for emphasis.

"Aw, don't worry! The only thing I'll be helpin' myself to is kickin' the heck out of it."

"Annnnnd I'll take that as my cue to get my butt on home and feed it to Gary– OH, I mean, uh, feed Gary… some Snail-Po. Heh."

"Uhhhh-huh, you do that, SquarePants."

"Byeee…" he waved.

"Bye!" she waved back. "Happy Thanksgivin'!"

"Oh, you toooo. See you Saturday."

"See ya, partner."

Waddling backward to keep his eyes locked on hers while feeling for his helmet on the rug, he didn't notice how hard he was biting his lower lip. Her warm smile shone towards him like a spotlight. He couldn't wait to tell Gary about this evening. After, of course, he didn't feed his butt to him.

He was a few inches away from the treehouse exit when he paused, helmet in hand.

"Oops! Almost forgot."

Before sharing the news, it was time to complete the final part of his past attempt of the "plan". He had been too sea-chicken about it the first time; now that she'd started it, his burst of faith would allow him to finish it.

Sandy's ears flickered again at the sound of running steps. She turned around after having collected the cupcake plates and was met with a pair of lips on her cheek. It was her face's turn to blossom into bright, rosy petals.

"Mwah!" SpongeBob pulled away and winked charmingly, even though on the inside, his tummy was as nervous and geeky as Bubble Bass when he couldn't find his favorite action figure.

SpongeBob giggled and returned to his backward walk, putting his helmet on for the final time. "Byeeee, again," he said dreamily, then cleared his throat and lowered his voice to "astronaut" mode. "See ya later, Miss Foxy Cheeks."

Sandy looked as though she'd been stunned by a camera flash as she placed a hand against her cheek. It sure didn't take a lot for that boy's veins to flow with both egotistical and cringe-worthy blood.

She grinned at his flirtatiousness anyway. "Bye again, Mr. ThinksHe'sCoolPants."

"Oh," SpongeBob chuckled arrogantly, "I'm not just cool, I'm–"

Sandy's body bounced with the "oh, ah, ooh, ow!" noises of his pain as he tripped backward into the tree door and knocked himself silly down the stairs.

At the bottom where he landed on his head - helmet finally broken, one eye purple, and his limbs crumpled - SpongeBob's buckteeth crumbled into a bucktooth as he smiled to himself.

"Clutzy cool. And in need of a doctor."

Upstairs, Sandy mentally listed the last thing she was grateful for: hearing his faint voice crack. She shook her head and barely contained a laugh that was screaming to escape. Since he was an invertebrate, she imagined the only bone he cracked was the turkey leg he had swallowed.

"All right, hold your seahorses, I'mma comin'!" she shouted while grabbing her first-aid kit.

Ah, thank Neptune for holidays and cupcakes.

A/N: Alrighty, guys! I hope you enjoyed this. Again, I know it was nothing special, but it felt good to get back to writing. I actually had quite a bit of trouble finishing this; I hope it doesn't feel too rushed or too dragged out. I apologize if it seems weird in any way or if there are discrepancies in the details. Like I said, it's been a while since I've done this. I'll still work to improve, 'cause we all need to to some degree, haha. I'll see what else I'll be able to do in the coming months. No promises but I'll try. God bless. :)