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.
Author Note: This contains the best line of purple prose suited to a nautical theme.
Chapter 6: Scherzando
The pleasantly warm beads of water streaked down his chest as he lathered his hair, scrubbed his back, and soaped up under his arms. Squidward treasured solitude in his ablutions, humming as the soapsuds dripped down his legs and drained at his feet. He never left a shower until he'd made certain he was clean all over.
He turned the knob to shut the water off, tied his towel around his waist, and stepped out, expecting some remarks about hogging the shower.
"Finally, the prissy little fucker's finished."
Squidward turned his head to seek out the fish who made the comment, but no one appeared to direct any anger at him. The other guys had their attention fixed instead on Squilliam, who had just stepped out of the next stall, steady trickles of water pooling around his feet. No wonder they were pissed at him; he'd started his shower much earlier than Squidward had.
"Squilliam, how lo-ong..." His jaw dropped as he took in the gently carved pecs, abs, and thighs, the body of someone who kept fit without making himself into a jock. Acquiring a flirty tone, he twirled some hair in his hand and finished, "...Have you been working out?"
"I think you know how long, Squiddy."
"Oh...you look good." He tightened his towel around his waist. "Really - good."
Squilliam squinted, eying him as he leaned against the wall, shifting his hips away and tightening his towel once again. "What are you trying to hide? I've seen you nude; you're absolutely fabulous. Especially when you're sopping wet like that." He licked his lips. "Now come on, let's go get dressed," he said, grabbing the end of his towel and slapping it against Squidward's ass, dropping his towel to the ground. Face flushed, Squidward grabbed his own towel, creased his brow, and chased after him, neglecting to cover his waist as they ran to their cabin.
He opened the door to see Squilliam standing by his own bed, leaning back as he lifted a foot up and held it behind his head, flicking his hair back as he picked his towel up from the ground.
Squidward glimpsed the allure in his eyes, took it as a personal challenge and sat on his bed facing Squilliam. Twiddling a lock of his drenched hair between his suction cups, he ripped his towel off and began to rub it across his chest, playing at his perked up nipples. He stretched his tongue to tease the wet ends of his hair.
"Hey, can I join in?" asked Harry, stepping between them dressed in the top half of his band uniform and nothing else.
Squilliam snorted, "Go fuck yourself," and proceeded to do the splits, licking the tips of his front feet before bending backward to touch his posterior feet, leaning toward Squidward at an angle to better expose his anterior side.
"No, really, I think you guys are hot. How about we do a trio before practice? And I don't mean a musical trio."
"We got that," they said simultaneously.
"So you want to try that, or what?"
Squilliam smirked. "Tell you what, Harry - you hurry off to breakfast and I'll get back to you."
"Can do," he said, pulling his pants on.
"Now where were we?" He lowered his eyelids, watched as Squidward draped his hair around his body, then shook it up to reveal his eyes and shoulder. "Oh yes, there. You make this so hard on me, Squiddy." He stood, walked to the edge of the bed, and sat on his lap, wrapping his towel around Squidward's back, slipping it up around his neck and squeezing his hair into the soft folds of Egyptian cotton. He tilted his head to close their lips together, laughing nervously as their noses bumped.
Harry tripped over his trombone case and on top of them, breaking them apart. His hands landed conspicuously near their dicks.
Squidward smacked his fin away and shuffled toward the opposite edge of the bed in retreat, pushing Harry backward to fall over his trombone again. He landed flat on his ass, to their bemusement. "How did you end up in our cabin, anyway?"
"I was the least compatible with anyone."
"That makes sense." Squidward snickered.
"After all, when half the guys are nervous geeks and losers, where would a cool guy like me fit in? I guess the coolest guys they could squeeze out of this ragtag band were the gay slut and the virgin loner."
He blinked at Squilliam. "I have to admit, he got us pretty good."
Squilliam raised his unibrow in unimpressed contempt. "Oh, please. And I suppose you're a monogamous heterosexual?"
"Hey, I only fuck you when I'm between boyfriends," Harry said, picking up his trombone.
"So that'd be...all the time?"
"You wish. At least I'm getting some," he said, taking his trombone and shutting the door behind him.
Squilliam retrieved his towel from underneath Squidward and dried his hair.
Squidward began to brush through his hair. "Squillie? When he said, 'At least I'm getting some,' what did he mean by that?"
"Nothing. He's an idiot." He rolled up his towel and threw it onto his bed.
"But you always tell me about the guys you're screwing. You'd think he'd know -"
"Maybe because he does know, Squiddy. Maybe he knows a little more about my sex life than you do."
"So you're really not getting any?"
"That's right."
"Why?"
"Do you need to know why?"
He planted his hands on his hips and asked, voice grindingly indignant, "Yes, I do! Are you a masochist?"
Squilliam burst into light-hearted laughter, dissolving into a sigh. "Yes, a little. How'd you know?"
"Because there's no other explanation for why you'd deprive yourself like this when I'm right here, just waiting for you to fuck me into the ground."
"Please don't talk that way, Squiddy."
"Why -"
"I said, 'don't talk that way.'"
"Okay, Squillie. I just can't wait for you to gently fuck me into blissfully transcendent orgasm. How's that?"
"Wonderfully saccharine."
"Oh shrimp! We're really late for breakfast. Quick, give me my brush."
He tugged on Squidward's forearm to examine his wristwatch, gulped, and reached for the brush. As he handed the brush off, he leaped to his own bed, pulling Squidward along as they remained latched together. Their legs tangled together as they tumbled off onto the hardwood floor in a knot. They muttered as they tried to separate, tentacles twisting, sucking against each other as they pulled their limbs apart.
Disengaged, they scrambled to put on their band uniforms.
Squilliam ran a comb through his hair a few times before making a brisk advance to the door. He turned the knob a quarter of the way before glancing back at Squidward, who sat leisurely brushing his hair, unraveling bundles of hair that had long untangled. "Squiddy!" he said, voice getting shrill.
"What?"
"Hurry it up. I don't have all day."
"You don't have to wait for me, you know."
"You're right. I don't." He stomped back to the bed and squeezed his hand around Squidward's wrist, flinging the brush into the air as he dragged him to the door. "Sweetie, we're spending the next four hours marching. You're going to need a good breakfast more than you'll need mind-blowingly perfect hair."
"I guess that makes - you think my hair is mind-blowing?"
"I - uh, just hurry up." He swung the door open, letting Squidward leave. After his first step outside, Squilliam stopped him to drag a tentacle-full of Squidward's hair against his cheek. As he let go of the thick lock of hair, he picked up his clarinet and said, "Let's go."
Squidward sat at the end of a crowded table, half of his ass perched on a creaky wooden plank of a bench, setting him an inch off-kilter as he chewed his kelp and coral bits at a monotonously fuming pace. Squilliam approached from behind and nudged the fish next to Squidward. "I need to sit next to Squiddy. Move it."
"Save it," Squidward snapped.
Pulling the guy next to Squidward off of the bench, he slid his elbow onto the table, the back of his tentacle propping up his chin. "I don't get what's the big deal?"
"Shut it."
"You got the right music after -"
"I said, 'Shut -'"
"Can't you admit it's a little funny?"
"No, I can't. You completely humiliated me! Why would you do something like that to me?" He put his head in his hands, tears beginning to wet his tentacles.
"Will you stop harassing me about it already? And the reason, the reason I -"
"I thought you liked me."
"Yes," Squilliam said, his words vacant in tone.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Yes, you thought you liked me? Yes, you know I thought you liked me? Or..."
"For fuck's sake, darling, give it a rest. It's the first thing. The first thing you thought, not the first thing you said. But of course you knew that already."
"Sometimes I doubt it."
"Don't. Just because I like to see what you're made of doesn't mean I hate you. No one likes a sycophant or a batterer. You're one of the few people I can royally piss off without you turning into one of those things."
"I guess that's like a compliment," Squidward said into his fork.
"Take it how you want. It's the truth."
"So you made me sound awful in front of everyone just to confirm I won't drop on my knees to lick your ass afterward?"
"I think you'll be much more amenable to the idea once you've tried it. And Squiddy, you don't need any help to sound bad."
"Then why did you change my sheet music, if I'm so reliably bad on my own?"
"Exactly."
"What?"
"Think about it."
"No way I'm licking your ass, Fancyboy. I don't care how much I want to."
"Not that! Though I can't say I'd argue..."
Mr. Shores walked to their table and said, "Mr. Tentacles, I want to congratulate you on your tremendous improvement since the spring. Your dedication to the clarinet is nothing short of astounding."
Squidward said, "Thank you, sir. It's been my pleasure -"
"Our pleasure," Squilliam interjected.
"Excuse me?" Suspicion glazed his eyes as he scanned his companion's features for a clue as to what he meant.
"You're a very pleasant student, Squiddy. Don't you agree, Mr. Shores?"
"Yes, a pleasure to have in class." He turned around to approach another table, saying, "Enjoy your dinner!" as he waved his fin in dismissal.
Squidward adopted a sullen tilt of the shoulders as he let his head droop into his hand, leaning pointedly away from Squilliam.
"You don't have to thank me."
"Thank you? Why would I -?"
"Oh, stop it. I can't take all this adoration."
"Yeah, so you played with me after school, big deal. I'm still not getting down on my knees to thank you."
"Will you get down on your knees to do anything else for me?" Squilliam tilted his unibrow suggestively.
"In your dreams - you really mean it?"
"What do you think, darling?"
Squidward bit his lower lip. "Where are we going to -"
"I reserved a practice room tonight. Come at 4:25."
"I don't think I can time it like that."
"You know what I mean. That's when I reserved the room."
"Oh. Right," he said, blushing.
"That's good - when my cheeks turn that shade," he stroked Squidward's cheek, "you'll know you're doing it right."
He wrapped a foot around one of Squilliam's ankles, his suction cups gliding along slippery skin, pausing at the convergence of his feet.
"This peasant-slop is going to put me into hospital before the week is through," he bemoaned, stirring the food in his tray until it had resolved into a greenish-grey sludge.
"You never complained like this when I made your lunches."
"Yeah, well your mediocrity has character. This is just horrible."
"Agreed."
Squidward stood outside the grey stitched metal practice room and checked his watch as the hand shifted to indicate 4:27. The door opened, and a tentacle reaching out to grab him by his biceps pulled him inside. Squilliam propped him up on a stool in front of a music stand and a piano. Lithely scooting next to him, grasping his shoulders to move him onto the ground, he asked Squidward to close his eyes and open his mouth wide for a pleasant surprise.
He obediently closed his eyes and opened his mouth, tickling the back of his knees and thighs as he leaned forward in anticipation of a taste of Squilliam's hot dick.
What he got instead was a mouth full of Squilliam's cold clarinet.
Backing away, he pulled his lips off the mouthpiece and shoved the clarinet toward Squilliam's lap. "The hell is this? Squillie, what the fuck -"
"Don't worry, I moistened the reed already." Squilliam smiled sweetly, forcing Squidward into dumbfounded stuttering. "Go ahead, Squiddy. Blow me away." He passed the clarinet back.
After he played for a minute from their repertoire, Squilliam stopped him to say, "Okay, that's enough. Good start, but why don't you try doing it more like this?" He took his clarinet into his hands. "I want you to pay special attention to how I finger this." He played the piece, said, "That's how it's supposed to sound. Try it again."
Squidward resumed, but before he'd completed the first measure, Squilliam interrupted him, saying, "I cannot stress the importance of agile tonguing enough." Twiddling his tentacle along the bell of his clarinet, he asked Squidward to demonstrate how he tongued the beginning.
He opened his mouth and flicked his tongue against the tip of the reed.
Squilliam shook his head 'no' and said, "It's more like this," taking his clarinet and showing him. He handed his clarinet back to Squidward.
He donned a coy expression, said, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," and tilted the clarinet slightly in Squilliam's direction.
He said, "Like this," cupping the back of his head in a tentacle, lips pulsing over lips, pulling his tongue repeatedly up against their teeth. Squidward exhaled breathlessly. Squilliam leaned back, said, "Did - did you catch that, Squiddy?" then leaned back into his face, his right hand slipping against his shoulder while his left hand closed over the hand holding his clarinet.
Squidward nodded, their heads moving in tandem.
"G-good. I'd hate to have to repeat myself."
"Repeat yourself. Please," he said, his eyes widening in glossy pleading.
He slid his tongue between their lips, lightly playing at the side of Squidward's tongue before scraping against his teeth as he retreated, sucking at the corner of his mouth. "How was that for an encore?"
He responded by pressing their lips together again, slipping his tongue into Squilliam's mouth, their teeth bumping into each other. "Ow - sorry." He moved closer in again, their tongues meeting and tangling, hardening and softening as he squeezed his hip.
"You're out of practice." He smiled and took his clarinet, prying it out of Squidward's tight grip and gently setting it into its case. "That's a naughty boy. You need a refresher." Tugging at his shirt collar, he pulled him close to kiss, shifting their weight onto the keys of the piano behind him. Squidward brushed his lips away and dragged his tongue upward against his neck, grazing his teeth below the jaw. As Squilliam moaned, he licked voraciously at the base of his neck, shifting his collar as Squidward slipped his arm up the back of his shirt, using his tentacles to cop a generous feel of ass.
The door creaked open. "Hey, I just wanted -" Mr. Shores gave a wry smile. "Guys, this is a music practice room, not your private suite to practice necking."
"Oh!" Squilliam moaned. "Oh," he said, pulling out of Squidward's tentacles, shifting himself onto the piano bench. "Of course."
"Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know we have an activity scheduled in five minutes, so you might want to -" he gulped, "wrap things up."
"Right away, Mr. Shores," they chimed in unison.
"Right," he said, closing the door on them as he left.
Squilliam tucked his head into Squidward's neck, reaching under his shirt to tickle his nipple. "Oh, Squiddy, are you as excited as I am?"
"I can't believe - he almost caught us -"
"How about we skip that activity and start a little activity of our own, hmm?"
"Have you flipped your barnacle, Squillie?" He sat next to him on the piano bench. "He almost caught us! What if he comes back and we're -"
He clutched at the collar of Squidward's shirt, kissing him deeply, forcefully. "You were saying?"
He gripped Squilliam's thigh, lifting him up as he slid his tongue against his neck.
"Squiddy -"
He navigated to the buttocks.
"No, Squiddy wait -"
Squilliam slanted against him, the piano bench tilting up and spilling them onto the floor.
"I think I've fractured something! Do they have doctors here? What if I need surgery?"
Squidward groaned. "You drama queen. Get up." He rolled onto his side and sat up, reaching out a hand to Squilliam.
He stood up, his back slanted forward. "I'm hobbled. Dear Neptune, look what you've done to me, Squiddy."
"I'm sure you're fine."
"That's easy for you to say," he averted his eyes and spoke lower, "considering you didn't even kiss it better."
"W-fwhat?" He tried to conceal his mocking laughter, but failed spectacularly. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
"No, it's okay." He gently cupped his hand around Squilliam's waist from behind, rubbing along his ribs. "Where does it hurt?"
"Under my shoulder blade." Squidward lifted his shirt up and wetted his lips before kissing. "Mmm, that's good."
"There. You're all better now, right?"
"I dunno...the pain is radiating lower."
He squeezed Squilliam's lower abdomen, descending as he licked his back in long uneven strokes punctuated by sloppily executed smacks of lips.
"Oh," he moaned as Squidward lolled his tongue against the curve of his ass, "you're good, Squiddy."
"Good enough to make you cry?" he asked, tightening his grip around Squilliam's waist and grabbing his hips.
"Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"
He pressed nose up against ass, indulging in the contact. Squilliam indeed had the perfect ass. Not too small, not too big. Firm as a board and springy as a marshmallow at the same time. Perfection his parents hadn't bought for him. "Sorry, Fancyboy. I told you before, there's no way I'm licking your ass."
Breaking out of Squidward's embrace, he turned and adopted an indignant pout. "You, darling, are a tease."
"I'd be more than happy to lick your balls, though."
"And I'd be more than happy to let you." As Squidward leaned forward, Squilliam stepped backward. "When you've washed up first. Your mouth looks absolutely filthy."
"What?" He fell to his knees in exasperation.
"You're telling me you'd actually want that mouth on your dick?"
"I'll have you know that just last week -"
"Okay, Squiddy, I don't need to hear about your exploits in autofellatio. Though I'd love to see you demonstrate."
He crossed his arms, as though this would hide his reddening cheeks. "I was going to say my dentist complimented my oral hygiene."
"So...can you do it?"
"Uh...why would you even ask me that?"
"You can!" Squilliam said with childlike glee. "You have to let me watch you sometime."
"You might get lucky," he said, smiling, "if you let me get lucky first."
They left the room, the door making a thud-latch as it closed, and they headed for the field.
"That sounds like some school. I wish I could take music all day instead of gym," Squidward said, his voice fanciful.
"I still have to take gym, silly."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I'm taking ballroom dance for my P.E. credit."
"You're taking ballroom dance? I wish I could go there too."
"Now that's silly. You have to have either talent, money, or, in my case - both - to get in."
"I may not have wads of cash oozing out of my ass like you, but I have plenty of talent."
"Tell it to my flesh clarinet, Squiddy."
"Your - what?" Squilliam flashed his cock. "What are you, thirteen?" He rolled his eyes.
"Come on, Squiddy, you know you love my dick."
"Yeah, I love it when I'm touching it, not when you wave it around like a sparkler."
"Anyway, you of all people know very well I'm sixteen. I adored your birthday present." Squilliam kicked a stone in front of Squidward.
He kicked it out in front of them. "It was nothing. Just a little something I made in ceramics especially for you."
"It's the most thoughtful gift anyone's ever given me."
"Really? What'd your parents get you?"
He kicked the rock a short distance ahead. "My mother...had a more important engagement to attend to, and my father gave me balls." As Squidward raised his eyebrow, Squilliam nudged his elbow. "Sports balls, darling. A huge closet full of them." He kicked the rock again a short spurt out. "I had to say thanks, but..."
"Not what you were expecting?"
"...No thanks." The rock tumbled obliquely off the path as he gave it a final, powerful kick. "He knows that's not what I meant when I told him I liked balls."
"No shit." They passed into a clearing of sea grass and giant kelp. "You know, something's been on my mind since this morning, and I want you to tell me the truth."
"What is it, Squiddy?"
"You said you aren't getting any. If you don't want to fuck me, okay, I get that, but why aren't you sleeping with other people?"
Squilliam stood still.
Squidward stopped a pace ahead, turned to face him more directly. "Well?"
He cupped Squidward's cheek into his hand, eyes brimming with exhausted exuberance. "Maybe because 'other people' got tired of me crying your name out during sex," he said, lightly patting his cheek before walking past him.
His face reddening, his insistent grimace tweaked into a nervous smile as his eyes followed Squilliam. "Squillie..."
"Don't look at me like that."
"Oh, I'm sorry - is this better?" Squidward sprinted to catch up to him, grasped onto his elbows, and fell to his knees as he gave his most impressive orgasm face.
"S-stop," he said, pushing him back and up to his feet.
"Wait - Harry didn't mind. And what about the guys who are just experimenting? I'm pretty sure they wouldn't care what you call them as long as you don't call them 'fag.'"
"What do you think you are, darling?"
"Touché."
They arrived at the field where everyone had already gathered sitting around Mr. Shores as he explained the activity. Squilliam sat first, Squidward succeeding him to the ground as though their wrists were bound together.
"...Once you get past the tire obstacle, pass the egg from your spoon to your partner's. Then they cross the pit of sea spiders to the finish line. If you drop it, you're out. Got it?" The group nodded. "Okay. Pair up."
Squidward turned to Squilliam. "You want to be my partner?"
"No. I want to win." He stood and approached James Finn. "Let's pair up, shall we, Jamie? I'll do the tire part, and you can trudge through the -"
"Not this time, Squilliam. I'm going after that knockout on two fins, Tracy Flannigan."
"But -"
"Hey, Tracy, wanna be on my team?"
"Sure," she said, flicking the hair out of her eyes. "I'll go get the spoons and stuff we need."
"You dick," Squilliam said.
"You'd have done the same. Besides, don't you have Squidward?"
"That's what everyone says. I'll never win with him, though."
"Dude, you think I picked Tracy so I could win? She's as clumsy as a fish with a broken swim bladder. But I like her, and I want her to like me. Who gives a fuck if we win?"
"You may have a point." He ran after Squidward, who stood talking to a short boy. "Squiddy! Oh, Squiddy!"
"What?" he said.
"Changed my mind - I want you after all."
"Sorry, Squillie. I'm Jeffery's partner now."
"You can't do that!" he screeched in the manner of a spoiled child.
"Oh, yeah? And why not?"
"Because, I'll...I'll uh - withhold sex from you."
"Some threat. Like you haven't done that since the day we met."
"Fine. Go ahead and be Jeffery's partner. See if I care."
"I don't," Squidward said dryly.
"I said, 'See if I care,' not 'See if you care,' dumbass. Rachel, do you have a partner yet?"
"No - you want to be my partner?" she asked.
"I guess I have no choice, since no one else wants to do it with me."
"Um, okay..." She got the spoons and the egg. "So when I cross the tires, have your spoon ready in your mouth for me to -"
"Excuse me, but I'm not setting one tentacle near that writhing mass of sea spiders."
"Well, I'm not doing it!"
"Why not? You're a feminist, aren't you? Didn't you win the equal right to walk through pits of icky creatures?"
"I'm allergic - what's your excuse?"
"Are you kidding? You want me to soil these amazingly talented tentacles? In your dreams, Rache."
"It's Rachel. And you have to do it, or stop being an ass and sit it out."
Squilliam smiled. "I have a better idea." He ran to where Squidward practiced balancing his egg in his spoon at the start line. "Squiddy," he said.
"Squilliam, I already told you -"
"No, wait - listen. Rachel is allergic to sea spiders, and I really don't want to wade through that nasty pit, so I thought maybe we could get Jeffery and Rachel to partner up, making us free to do it with each other."
"I guess we could - hey! You're making me walk through the spiders? I don't think so, Squillie."
"Then again, it really doesn't matter who does what. Just so long as we do it."
He grinned widely. "I'll fill them in on the change of plans."
Squidward waited at the starting line, egg wobbling in the spoon he held in his mouth, while Squilliam stood at the end of a series of tires, a spoon in his hand.
"Ready..." said Mr. Shores, "Set... Go!" He clanged a bell. Squidward began making his way through the tires as Squilliam leisurely buffed his nails, waiting for the egg to arrive.
"Come on, Elliot!"
"Joanne, you can do it!"
"Jamie, get your ass over here!"
"Squiddy, will you hurry it up a tad?" he asked sweetly. "Because we're kind of LOSING!"
Squidward flipped him off and kept his pace.
"Is that all you have? I've seen snails with more speed than you."
He put his hands at his hips and scrunched his eyebrows to tip off Squilliam's pissed-off-o-meter, then slowed to a purposefully viscous pace.
"Squidward! You'll run here as fast as you can, or - or I'm going to -" He had no idea what threat he intended to issue. Squidward typically interrupted him with a wisecrack by that point. His mind had grown lazily dependent on those interruptions.
Squidward smiled self-satisfactorily, his teeth showing as he held the spoon steady between them.
"Fucking - you know what, you say I'm like a thirteen-year-old, but you know what? You're acting like you're thirteen! You're just another -" Inspiration struck. "Hey, honey!" He slapped his ass, wiggling his behind in front of Squidward's face. "You want a piece of this?"
Squidward bit down hard on the spoon, causing the egg to flip up and land in his mouth. The shell cracked, dripping yolk into his mouth, while the other half of the shell remained unbroken and tottering on the spoon handle just against his lips.
Squilliam chuckled. "So how do you like sucking eggs, Squiddy? Preparing for the rest of your life, I see."
"Newsflash, Fancyson -" Squidward said, smearing the rest of the shell and a glop of yolk off his lips, "You just lost, too."