Summer Nights at Band Camp

by Hg Muffin-Stuff

Summary: They were rivals. They were companions. They were everything but in love. One summer night at band camp would change that, though. Or so they hoped.

Chapter Three: Poco a Poco Calando

"So, you want me to blow you after class today? I can do it in seven positions, after all." Harry Halibut nudged Squilliam with his "tromboner".

"That's the third time this week you've used that pick-up line, Harry. And for the third time, no."

"Why the hell not?"

'Yes, Squilliam, why the hell not? He's actually good at it, unlike half the gay boys in this school. He's not clingy, he's great for one-offs, adventurous... Why the hell not?'

"Well, Squilliam? Why won't you let me blow you? And ever since last month, all you've been blowing is your clarinet. What's the matter, tired of being a slut?"

"No, I love dick too much for that..."

"Then how come ever since you ran off to fuck that Squidward kid you've been celibate? Are you afraid that if he finds out you screwed around while he's in the hospital he'd cut you off?"

"Squiddy is not a kid! We're the same age; if anything it's you who's a pervert for wanting to fuck me, Mister I'm-Turning-Eighteen-Next-Week. And he knows not to expect any long-term romance from me."

"So what are you waiting for?"

"I promised him I'd make our time together special," he chose his words carefully, not knowing whether Squidward's virginity was common knowledge, not knowing why he gave a damn if his classmates found out about his fucktoy's virginity. "We didn't get a chance to fuck yet. I'm still waiting to take him."

"You know, you can just do me now, and then when he's out of the hospital do him all you want."

"Fuck you, Harry. Just, fuck off."

"What? What did I say?"

"He's in the fucking hospital. He could've died. And you're talking about me fucking you behind his back, after I said all those sweet things to him. If you think I could do that to him, you don't know me, at all."

"Are you in love with Squidward?"

Squilliam stared at him coldly. "No," he said, his voice gritty. "I don't love anyone." 'I would make an exception for Maxi,' he thought, 'but I don't want to open that issue up for discussion again.' And he did love Squidward, if not in that gushy, romantic sort of way. But as a friend. Someone to count on, for something - friendly or not-so-friendly banter, a meal to share, a quiet moment of shared understanding. That was what he really needed in that moment, more than a good fucking.

"Oh. You do try to humiliate him a lot in class."

Squilliam tried to shake off the dismay he felt at that response. Oh?! What kind of person was he, that people would treat his announcement that he didn't love anyone with such nonchalant understanding? "Shut up. He deserves that humiliation by being such an arrogant ass."

"Oh, and you're the master of humility."

"I'm talented; I earned the right to be arrogant." Oh. Maybe that was why. "Look, Harry, I just don't want to hurt him while he's down."

"You already said he knew you're not in it long-term. He knows the kind of guy you are; he's always asking me for details, about how you like it, and who your other partners have been, what cologne turns you on the most, etcetera."

Well, if he hadn't been convinced before, he was now. Squidward didn't just want Squilliam's body, he wanted his heart and mind, too.

"Anyway, Squilliam, it's not like you'd be cheating; you're not in a committed relationship. You're not in love, so I don't understand why you're saying no."

"Because I want Squiddy." He tried to conceal his sniffles. He succeeded. He wasn't nearly so successful at concealing his bawling. "I want him! I want him, I want him, I want – I want to cuddle up with him by a warm fire, make him feel better than anyone's ever made him feel, kiss him until we pass out in each other's arms, to touch that soft, beautiful skin, see him light up in radiant pulsing rainbows and know he's ready to be mine."

"I thought you said you didn't love anyone."

"Especially not Squidward."

"Right. But you must really...really like him. A lot."

"Well, yeah, I like his mouth. He's got an amazing tongue for kissing. And I can't wait to find out what else that tongue is good for."

"Uh, okay. So you're not going to blow me today?"

"Fuck off, Harry."

***

Squilliam sat beside Squidward outside the band class, no lunch in hand. "I tried to visit you in the hospital, honey; they asked me my name and told me you weren't letting visitors in to see you." Squilliam glanced down at Squidward's chest. "What happened to your rainbow pins, sweetie?"

"I threw them out."

"Why, Squiddy?"

"Because you're right. There's nothing to envy about your life."

Squilliam glanced nervously down at his empty hands. "Well, don't you worry; I don't expect you to have packed me a lunch on your first day back from the hospital." He tried to roll a chuckle off his shoulder, but his voice softened immediately. "I heard you had a medical condition. Epilepsy or something, was it, Squiddy? That's funny, you never told me about that before. Are you really feeling okay?"

Squidward grumbled, "Just fine, thank you. Now leave me alone."

"I just wanted to know that you're doing better. Ass."

"I'm not in the mood."

"Tell me when you're ready to tell me, all right, Squiddy?"

Something told him that Squilliam hadn't quite bought his story about why he'd been taken to the hospital. "Don't talk to me."

"Okay, just let me know when -"

"I said, 'Don't talk to me.' I can't be seen talking to a prissy little faggot like you."

Squilliam sniffed up a tear. "All right then. If that's how you want it."

Squidward put his hands on his hip. "That's how it's going to be."

Squilliam did likewise. "Well that's how I want it."

"Good, then."

"Fabulous." Squilliam crossed his arms, turned away.

Squidward ate his lunch while Squilliam sat next to him, watching him. Leering over him.

Squidward cleared his throat. "Do you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"Mind your drool! It's getting on my shoulder."

Squilliam took out a handkerchief and began wiping Squidward's shoulder to sop up his saliva. "But Squiddy, you certainly didn't seem to mind my saliva getting on your shoulder when I nibbled your tender flesh last month."

"You're a freak, Squilliam. Please, just leave me alone."

"Aww...whatever happened to 'Squillie'?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Please, Squiddy. I just want you back. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

"Squillie, you can't blame a guy for actually listening and taking your advice to heart. I've got a date this Friday night, and I'm sorry, but it's not with you."

"It's that tramp Travis, isn't it? Damn it, I told you not to get involved with him!"

"No, it's not with Travis. Rachel Cuttles asked me out three months ago, and I finally said yes."

"Squidward, why the fuck are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Oh, cut the crap, I know you're not bi. I was there when the guys discovered that hole exposing the girls' locker room; you didn't move a muscle. You just sat reading some dance magazine."

"I just...respected their privacy, that's all."

"Oh? Then how come I never see you respecting my privacy when we change for band? Ah ha, ha."

"I'm done messing around, Squillie. I've had my fun, but that life isn't for me."

"Oh, really?" Squilliam raised his unibrow skeptically.

"Yes, really."

"What a shame that those sweet kisses will be wasted on someone who won't even appreciate the subtleties of your technique."

"Stop kidding around; you know I'm amazing with my tongue."

"Oh. I know. And I'm not kidding, I just mean that it takes a musician to fully appreciate the finer accents you use with those sizzling lips of yours."

"Ooh...you really mean that?"

"I adore kissing you. I could give up sex just to kiss you. Well - almost."

"Oh, Squillie...you don't have to flatter me. You know, I've been thinking the last few weeks, and..."

"Will you just shut up and kiss me already? I'm sorry, go on."

"No, I - mmph." Squidward grabbed Squilliam's shoulders and stroked his chest and back, pulled at his tie with his free tentacles while they kissed. It lasted only a second, and then Squidward exchanged Squilliam's lips for his shoulder, crying into him. "You feel so good."

Squilliam patted his back. "You do, too, Squidward. You feel so good to me." He gave a gentle squeeze to his waist, pulling them closer together.

Squidward uncurled his tentacles from around Squilliam, gently pushed him back. "I - I can't do this."

"Squiddy, don't be an ass. Your parents are wonderful, loving, accepting people, and here you're putting on a melodrama about how you just can't afford to be gay. Well, guess what, honey, I've got problems too, and no, they don't just magically disappear because I'm wealthy. I can't buy my parents' love, I can only buy a superficial veneer of popularity that doesn't protect me from the serious bullies anyway, and I can't buy you -"

He'd wanted to make some comment about how his problems shouldn't be dismissed without being lived, but that last sentence stopped his hearts and lungs, for a moment reversed the motion. "You want to buy me?" Squidward asked with a timid blush.

"Er - uh, well..." Squilliam bit his lower lip, the sweat gushing down his face. "Yeah I want you. If I have to buy you, then so be it."

Squidward slowly grasped one of Squilliam's tentacles in his. "Just promise you'll stay close to me? You won't leave me alone. Please."

"O-okay, Squiddy. Sure."

"Squillie?"

"Yes?"

Squidward looked into his eyes, said in a crumbling whisper, "Thanks."

A smile crept up on Squilliam's face. "No trouble, dear." He kissed Squidward's cheek, clasped his other hand over Squidward's, and they waltzed into the band class together.

Apart from some whispers about how the first and second clarinets were really doing each other, that Squidward was really back, that he'd been found unconscious in the locker room, that they'd heard he'd been doing heavy drugs or had a life-threatening illness, the return to band class was beginning to look rather much like the usual - a welcome relief for Squidward, who'd not been fond of the dreary hospital halls.

Mr. Shores approached Squidward, put a fin on shoulder and guided him to the side of the room. "Mr. Tentacles, in the month you've been gone, you've fallen pretty far behind. Are you sure you'd rather not drop this class for the rest of the year, and start again next year to catch up?"

Squidward gulped, his lip trembling as he tried to suppress the tears. Unsuccessfully - of course. "But M-Mister Shores, band is t-the one thing that makes my l-life worth living!"

"You know, nothing is stopping you from playing your clarinet. You don't need to be in the band to do that."

"But this class really means the world to me. I don't know what I'd do without band. Honestly, I'm not just shamelessly kissing your ass; band is all I've got to look forward to!"

"I see. Do you know yet if you will be resuming your sessions with Dr. Hudson?"

"Yeah, yeah, this Thursday."

"I just don't see - we've gone through a lot of difficult repertoire, and you were struggling as it was."

"Oh, please, Mr. Shores, I don't care about any of my other classes. I'll play my clarinet all day and night, and I know I can keep up. Just give me a chance, I know I can do it."

"Mr. Tentacles, I know you're a dedicated musician already. And I really appreciate that, and if you keep that up, you can make great progress. You're still young. And if you enroll again next year, I'm sure you'll make huge strides -"

"Still young? I'm fifteen! In a few years I'll be applying to college. I can't get held back now!"

"Don't rush yourself. Everyone has a different pace they learn at. If you rush yourself, you'll just end up with mediocre skills at best."

"Ahem," Squilliam cleared his throat, "Mr. Shores, I'll gladly help Squiddy work on his technique and practicing our repertoire." He enunciated loudly to the class, "In fact, we plan to practice tonguing and fingering with each other every night."

"Okay, Mr. Fancyson. You do realize what kind of time commitment you're agreeing to, though?"

"Oh, yeah, I've tutored him before. He'll be back up to speed in no time."

"I trust that you'll do a great job helping him fit right back in again."

"I won't let you down, Mr. Shores," Squidward said, shaking Mr. Shores's fins.

As Squilliam walked with Squidward back to their seats, Mr. Shores announced to the class that they would be practicing a lot of exercises and going over some theory they'd already covered in the last month, so that Squidward could participate on his first day back.

Squidward sat his clarinet case on his lap, stroked the top surface with a quiver before undoing the latches and opening it on its hinge, gazing at his new clarinet. He had wanted to play it as soon as his parents had shown him his brand new instrument, but he'd been so depressed that the most he'd gotten himself to do was to hold it in his arms, whispering his desire to play her as he fell asleep, still embracing his Clari.

Squidward yawned, opened his eyes to see his nose pressing against the bell of his clarinet, which still sat in its case. Unfortunate side effect of the medications the doctors gave him; he was not accustomed to falling asleep throughout the day.

"Are you ready to join us yet, Mr. Tentacles?" Mr. Shores said, asking sincerely rather than chiding as he normally would if a student had fallen asleep over their instrument when they were supposed to already be ready.

"Huh? Oh, uh, right." Pressing a suction cup against one of the tone holes, he sighed in despair, tears welling in his eyes. 'Don't do this, Squiddy; everything will be okay. Just pick Clari up and put her reed in your mouth...it's simple. Don't pressure yourself to play great, just play a tune. A scale. A note, any note. Just put her in your mouth.' He bit his lower lip, took out a reed, and opened his mouth to take it inside and wet it. With a shaky tentacle, he grasped the reed from his mouth and placed it against the mouthpiece, gently yet swiftly fastening it with the ligature. Clamping his lips shut over his shuddering whimpers, he raised his clarinet to his mouth, prepared to sound the first note, when a clank resounded throughout the room.

Or at least, that's the sound they would've heard, had Squilliam not caught his clarinet just before it would've hit the ground. Still holding his own instrument in his left hand, he set Squidward's clarinet down on its bell, said, "What's wrong, Squiddy dear?"

Flicking away the tears in his eyes, and noting the crowd - students and the band director - that had taken notice of his episode, he forced a smile and said, "Nothing. Just - a little dizzy, that's all. It's...a side effect of one of the medications they gave me at the hospital."

Mr. Shores shook his head. "Well, we can't have you passing out on us, now can we? Just sit and listen until you're ready to join us. If you feel like you need to go to the nurse's office, just let me know, and Mr. Fancyson can escort you there. All right? Okay, everybody..."

The band director's voice faded out of Squidward's mind as he watched Squilliam bring his clarinet to his mouth and begin to play. Such beauty...how could he ever fear that? As he watched him, without thinking his gaze descended to Squilliam's crotch, where it rested for the remainder of the practice piece.

He didn't realize where he was again until he heard Squilliam say, "Get a good look, Squiddy?"

The others in the band snickered, and he realized he was sweating and turning red. "Oh...um, yeah. As if I'd want to look at you."

"Looks like you do want to look at me. A lot." Squilliam stroked Squidward's thighs in a movement that was halfway between stroking and masturbation.

"Squilliam!" was all Squidward could manage in a panicked whisper, but he was not deterred and grew more audacious in his play.

"Oh, shut up, you like it and you know it."

Squidward was petrified that he'd make an embarrassing sound, so he bit his lower lip, but still his cheeks flushed a brilliant red, and he breathed rapidly. Squidward squeaked loudly, "Squilliam!" as he came, then slumped back in his chair, panting, to see the dark-haired cephalopod licking the suction cups of his hand. Why would he... "Ew! You're eating my...ew!"

"Aww...virgins are cute." He couldn't think about that anymore, though, because by this point the rest of the class had noticed the goings-on, that Squilliam had made Squidward shout for him.

"Squidward so has the hots for Squilliam!"

"They're going to get it on!"

"No, we're not 'getting it on!'" said Squidward. "Squilliam, I'll kill you for this!" He tackled Squilliam, who seemed to get an unhealthy amount of pleasure from the experience. He couldn't bring himself to hurt him, though. He'd just made things bearable for him again. And he was so beautiful.

Squilliam grinned, arched his back to drag his chest against Squidward's abdomen, and said, "Make me hurt, Squiddy boy, make me hurt good."

Grabbing his collar as if about to strangle him, Squidward drew close to his mouth and whispered, "Let's do this again...tonight at eight. My place." Lifting his head away, he said in a louder, crisp voice, "Got that?"

"Oh, yes, Squiddy, I got it all right." They started to get up to resume class, but found that Mr. Shores was standing right at their feet, with two pink slips for indecent conduct during class time.

***

"I still don't know why they gave me one. I wasn't the one disrupting class with an orgasm," said Squilliam, crossing his legs.

"You are unbelievable. You're the whole reason we're in this mess!"

"No, I believe your hard-on is the reason we're in this mess."

"Did I say, 'Please, Squilliam, jack me off'? Because I sure as hell didn't hear myself say it."

"Your eyes told me you needed it. And hey, I wanted to do it."

"I don't need anything from you, Fancyboy."

Squilliam gave a shrug of nonchalance. "Is that so."

"Yes."

"So we're not on for tonight then?"

"Of course not! I never want to see you again!"

"Really? Because, you know Squiddy, I'd really like to go all the way for you. If you just tell me you change your mind, I'll gladly fuck you, anytime, anywhere. But if you don't want to see me..."

"Huh? Don't be ridiculous. Eight o'clock, sharp."

"Oh, no, Squiddy, no need to mend my broken heart. You already said you didn't want to see me. What was I thinking? What would such an amazing clarinetist as you want to do with a prissy little faggot like me, anyway?"

"Cut the sarcasm. You know you want to fuck me. And I'm sorry I called you that, if it makes you feel any better."

"Well, look who's suddenly apologizing, now that you think it'll get you some action."

"Squilliam, I really am sorry. I just - things are complicated."

"You mean you were being a little closeted homophobic ass."

"Not exactly closeted."

"Then why did you throw your rainbows away, Squiddy? You looked so pretty in them." It was true, too. Squidward was the sort of guy who could pull off pretty while still retaining his sleek masculinity.

"I told you I don't want to fucking talk about it! Now, leave me alone."

"...But you still want me to fuck you tonight."

"That's right."

"And you want me to leave you alone."

"You got it, toots."

"Well, sorry, toots, but you can't have me that way. I may be a slut, but I need a little pillow talk now and then. I'm not sleeping with someone who's going to just give me the cold shoulder and leave the sheets cold. I actually liked you. I thought you liked me a little, too."

"Maybe I do, but since when do you need a guy to like you?"

"I just need a little companionship. Someone I can talk to, have a good time with. Is that really so much to ask?" He hung his head low to his knees as he obscured a short burst of tears.

Squidward touched his shoulder. "We're talking."

"What?" he asked, looking up and into Squidward's eyes.

"We're talking...right now."

Squilliam nodded, sniffing his last tears away as he tenderly held the hand Squidward had firmly placed upon his shoulder and leaned against his chest. Squidward kissed his head, inched his feet towards Squilliam's and entwined their tentacles together, locked suction cups with him.

Squilliam tilted his head up, touched his nose to Squidward's. "Talk to me, Squiddy."