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 Five: Allegretto
"Are you sure you have everything packed, Squiddums?" Mrs. Tentacles said, looking over his suitcase.
"Yes, mom." Squidward leaned against the sofa near the door.
"And you have plenty of underwear, right?"
"YES, mom." His father walked in from the kitchen.
"Good, because if you want to get the attention of that boy you're after, you don't want to reek."
"Thanks. I'll try to remember that."
The senior Mr. Tentacles leaned back against the sofa next to Squidward and said, "Ah, band camp. You know, I had my share of gratifying experiences when I went." He gave his wife a nod, and she left the room. "I'm sure you'll do just fine, son; you've inherited the Magic Tentacles. Besides, no one can resist a clarinet."
"That is true."
"So who is this fellow? Anyone I know?"
"Yeah. Squilliam Fancyson. He plays clarinet, too."
"Squilliam? You mean Squillie? That boy you've spent hours after school with every day, even when school gets cancelled? I assumed you two already had..." Squidward shook his head 'no,' face turning dour. "I guess not. Eh heh, sorry..."
"It's okay. Everyone thinks we're together, but we've just given each other hand jobs."
"Here," he said, handing his son some rolled up parchment. "It's a map to the most romantic make-out spot in the area. It's nice and secluded - provides the perfect opportunity for a tryst. Take him there and don't get shy about being out in the open. Then give him a blowjob that'll make him forget about the clarinet entirely."
"Sounds hard."
His father chuckled. "It is."
***
Squilliam nudged Squidward's elbow. "You fell asleep again? Are you fucking narcoleptic, Squiddy?"
A yawning glance as he tilted his head up to survey the roof, his chin eventually resting in Squilliam's lap. "Might as well be, with these pills they're giving me."
"Well, wipe that drool off your chin." He pushed him gently upright. "We're here."
The bus lurched to a stop, abrupt screech of brakes flinging to the back and coiling through the front, raking across the ears of the band students whose chatter had suddenly fallen.
Squilliam stood.
"What are you doing?" Squidward said in a sleepy monotone. "We have to wait for the people ahead of us to get off."
"All right, Mr. Let's-Do-The-Right-Thing. You can wait there. I'm going to go bribe a few bandmates. Ta."
Squilliam plopped back in his seat at a tug of his arm, his wrist attached to Squidward's hand.
"All right. But you'd better make witty conversation as long as I'm stuck sitting next to you."
"Um, okay. Any good handjobs lately?"
Blowing the bangs out of his eyes, he sniffed. "You would know."
Voice tempered by sarcasm, Squidward clapped his hands to his cheeks and said, "Wow! Could it be? A compliment from the ah-may-zing Squilliam Fancyson? Now I'm fulfilled." He hoped the flicker of truth behind his exaggerated admission would dim in the grate of his forced disdain.
"Of course you are. As would anyone."
"Oh, please, you can't help but love the way I get you off." He contorted his face, mocking. "'As would anyone.' Could you get any more conceited?"
"Could you? At least I have the talent to back it up." He stood again, pulling Squidward up from his seat.
"Uh, so-do-I!" 'That Squilliam thinks he's so hot. Just because he's a musical prodigy (when I used to be the musical prodigy), a sophisticated person with a refined love of the arts (when I used to be that sophisticated person), and he always has a cute guy hanging off his arm (when I used to be that cute guy).'
"Hey Squiddy! I can't hold the line for you all day," he said, moving to the front of the bus, Squidward standing still at the brink of the aisle. "Toodles!"
Squidward waded through the pulsing mob to the front of the bus, assembling in a crowd with the others by the base of a large coral tree whose trunk was hollowed out.
"Okay, everybody, can you hear me?" Mr. Shores called out, standing on top of a shoulder-height rock. "All right, we're here!" Everyone cheered, somewhat lazily. "You know you're here to practice your marching band skills, but that's not the only reason we're here this week. Now, no matter how much the school tries to promote their 'Band is Cool Now' campaign, we all know that high schoolers don't think first trumpet is quite as cool as star quarterback." Band members mumbled to each other about the understatement of the year. "So I want you to understand just how important it is to support each other, especially the freshmen. We may not always get along, but ultimately, we're in this together. Take pride in your music. Band geeks rock!" Isolated drones of "yeah," and "woo" peppered the crowd, until Mr. Shores barked, "Can I get a 'Band geeks rock?'"
"BAND GEEKS ROCK!"
"Hell yes we rock!"
"Hell yes we rock!"
"Yeah! Now, listen up for your cabin assignments, because I won't repeat myself. Cabin B -"
"Hey, Squiddy." Squilliam nudged his shoulder. "Wouldn't it be amusing if we ended up in a cabin together?"
"Oh, I'm sure we will."
Dropping his jovial deportment, he said, "What makes you so sure?"
"No reason. My life has been hysterical enough so far, though."
"Hey, Squiddy?"
"What?"
He leered from nose to hips. "You want to suck me off tonight?"
"Shut up. And I already told you - we're clarinets: we don't suck; we blow."
"Come on..."
"Yeah, right." Squidward rolled his eyes. "You never mean it. You just like to tease me."
Squilliam shrugged, idly rubbed his elbow. "You're fun to tease."
Mr. Shores clapped his hands together. "All right - put your things in your cabins and get ready for dinner in the dining hall at five."
Squidward stared blankly ahead, brushing his arm away. "What cabin did he say I'm in?"
"How should I know? Perhaps you should've paid more attention," he said, flicking his nose.
"Mr. Shores! Mister - Mr. Shores," he panted, running to catch up to the aging wrasse, whose bespectacled eyes adhered to the clipboard as he stepped off the boulder. "Can you tell me - just one more time -"
Squilliam sauntered ahead of him. "Hey, Mr. Shores, Squiddy talked my ear off during your announcement thingy; do you mind telling me what cabin I'm in?"
"Sure thing, Mr. Fancyson."
"But Mist-"
"Shush." He leafed through the papers on his clipboard. "Ah, there you are. Cabin F."
"See you at dinner, Mr. Shores. Toodle-oo!"
Squidward's jaw dropped, his brow creased, as he watched Squilliam prance off to his cabin. "But Mister -"
"Don't worry, I know he's the one who distracted you. Now you want to know your cabin assignment, right?"
"Yes, please."
"You'd better hurry if you want to catch up to him, then."
"Huh?"
"You're in Cabin F, too."
"What a surprise."
"Actually, not really. The compatibility questionnaires you filled out deemed you the two most compatible cabin-mates of any pair that filled out the forms."
"How perfectly contrived."
Mr. Shores pushed his glasses to eye level. "It actually startled me a little how similar your answers were. You have the same favorite composers, the same ideal bedtime, heck - you even prefer a specific recording of your favorite concerto."
"What's so strange about liking a certain recording better? It just means I have good tastes."
"Nothing - what is a little unusual is when his favorite concerto is the same, and his preferred recording is identical to yours."
"Of course we have the same favorite concerto. He played a recording of it when we - when we practiced together."
"You practiced a lot together, didn't you?"
"Yeah. We did a lot. Of practicing," he assured Mr. Shores. "I always wanted to do more, though."
"You could always ask him."
"I've tried. He just dangles his prowess over me, and we never actually get to blow. Our clarinets, I mean."
"Oh, of course." He nodded, bit his lower lip as he looked to Squidward's feet, then said, "Mr. Tentacles, have you ever considered just asking him why he won't get intimate with you, when you two clearly have a stronger bond than he's had with any of his previous partners?"
"No, but - thanks! I'll go...ask him now." He ran off to his cabin.
He flung the door open and ignored Harry unrolling his sleeping bag on the bunk bed. "Hey, Squillie, why won't you fuck me?"
"Charming, darling. Are you going to start a poem with that line?"
"We obviously both want it, so why are you holding out on me?"
"You're right. You're smart, you're sexy, and you're absolutely right," he said, grabbing his thighs and pulling him close to kiss him. He shoved Squidward against an empty bunk, slamming their hips together in the process. "You want me to fuck you?" He ran his hand through the hair running out the back of Squidward's head, fine yet coursed with oily streaks from their long ride against hot upholstery. "Because I would, Squiddy. But you're too..."
"Go ahead, spit it out."
"Pure."
Breaking into laughter, Squidward said, "My virginity isn't exactly something I plan to hang onto much longer."
"No, no, I didn't mean that. I meant I want you to stay the way you are."
"The way I am?"
"Yes, Squiddy."
"So you're never going to have sex with me...because you want me to stay the same."
"I never said, 'never.'"
"I don't get it. Tell me what exactly you think is going to change?"
He averted his eyes. "Can I kiss you instead?"
"You can kiss me," he said, putting a hand up against Squilliam's lips as he leaned forward, "after you answer the damn question."
"People change, Squiddy. You wouldn't understand. You know, since you're a virgin."
"I won't. I promise. Please?"
He grabbed Squidward's wrist, pulling his arm away to slide their tongues into contact, pausing, anxiously expecting a slight tug of resistance that never came. Slipping his tongue back, joylessly navigating past the warm curves and bumps until unceremoniously squishing their lips apart, he stared, his gaze askew. "You're changing now."
"That's ridiculous."
Squilliam gradually loosened his grip on his shoulders, propelling himself upward against the light spring of chest and mattress. "See you at dinner, Squidward."