11/17/19: Hey, guys! Skilly has returned. I've been off my game lately (caught up with school and my own pathetic emotions), and I needed to come back with something both fun and full of drama. Well, here ya go. This story's aim is to be full of silly moments as well as sentimental stuff and weird plot twists and all that good, random crap. I wrote this on my school laptop, on Google Docs, during my spare time. I took my good ol' time with it, and wrote in a relaxed fashion, and I am VERY pleased with the result. I know I usually don't update with second chapters very often, but this one might have a chance!

SpongeBob smiled down at Plankton, twirling his spatula around his finger, an impish look about him. It had been employee of the month nomination day again, and, not unexpectedly, SpongeBob had been chosen to have his large, bucktooth smile mounted upon the wall for all to see. Mr. Krabs' constant praise towards his hard work and willingness to "accept below minimum wage" only fueled his pride. Now, here he was, staring down at his boss' arch nemesis, ex-best friend, and business rival, about to perform some more heroic acts of fast food-manship.

"So, Plankton, you derisory little scum," he spat. "You microscopic little ignominy."

Plankton's eye widened. "W-woah there, kid, chill it with the insults. Where did you even acquire such profound vocabulary?"

SpongeBob bit his lip. A large book protruded from his back pocket. "Oh, nowhere important. Now, where was I?" He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah, back to squashing you like the error you are."

"Erruh?" Plankton repeated in that cute, little accent of his. (You may not wanna take this fic too seriously.)

"Yeah, that's what I said, Mr. Know-it-all. I said error. Error," he repeated, enunciating each syllable. "You know, the synonym for bug. Are you stupid? Maybe a little offended?" He chuckled, inching closer towards his prey.

"Hey, wait!" Plankton screamed, noticing the frycook begin to raise his foot. "You're the stupid one, SpongeBoob! Error refers to a computer bug."

He raised his foot higher, rolling his ankle threateningly. "Well, you're married to a computer."

Plankton was speechless for a few seconds. SpongeBob had wit. He had wit, and, during that short-lived conversation, an oddly above-average vocabulary. It was unusual. Usually the yellow nuisance didn't pose much of a threat. He was Krabs' little henchman, but he was just a kid. The only way Plankton knew him to be remotely threatening was simply how much larger he was than a microorganism like himself. A derisory little scum.

*Squish!*

"Welp, that takes care of that," SpongeBob said, brushing his hands on his pants triumphantly. "Mr. Krabs, come see your favorite employee's glorious work!"

From under his shoe came a weak voice. "It's deleterious," Plankton groaned. (Look it up, it's supposed to be funny.)

SpongeBob usually fell under the category of earnest or humble, but not since this money-grabbing employee of the month hype.

"Mr. Krabs, can I work the night shift?" he'd say.

"Fer no extra pay?" a skeptical Mr. Krabs would reply.

"Barnacles, yes!" was the answer he got. That's what his penny-pinching ears liked to hear.

The boy would stay after late and subtly shame Squidward for leaving work at the normal closing hour. "Going so soon?" It came across as mocking, and it probably was. He didn't get the same respect from his co-worker that he got from his boss, and he slowly developed the confidence to confront Squidward.

Squidward was and always had been fed up with SpongeBob's nonsense. It was one thing to endure an annoying, naive SpongeBob, but it was a whole 'nother to suffer an annoying, arrogant SpongeBob. The octopus' blue blood boiled every day. Who the barnacles does he think he is? he'd think to himself. He worships Krabs like a god, and he steps on Plankton like the guy's a roach. (Nah, Squidward, he's a derisory little scum.)

On this particular night, Mr. SquarePants was working the night shift. He sat in his boss' comfortable chair, his feet kicked up like he owned the place. He was a hard worker, but he wasn't doing work. No one wanted a Krabby Patty at three in the morning, and he knew it very well. But he also knew how good this looked on his record. How good his face looked upon the wall…

Just as he had begun to doze off, a sliver of light caught his eye. He sprung up shakily from his seat, wielding his spatula like a sword. "Stand back!" he shouted. He squinted his eyes but could not see who or what the culprit was. "I'm warning you." His voice wavered a bit, causing some fury to rise up within him. He was not going to let whoever was out there know how scared he truly was. Not on his watch.

He tip-toed towards the door, his heart beating out of his chest. The lights were off. It was so dark outside, with only the moonlight to guide his steps. The glow from the door was taunting him, calling his name. "SpongeBob!" it hissed. He gasped and dropped his spatula. "Neptune," he cursed.

"G-go away," SpongeBob said, his voice cracking. Tears formed at his eyes. Whatever it was was still there, at the door, its shadow now cast upon the wall. The door was opened wider now. The golden glow of the dining room began to light up the office. "No, no, no, no, no…" It was all he could manage.

He was weak. Everybody knew SpongeBob was weak. He was just a kid, just a Goofy Goober. Encompassed within his being was a thin layer between lionhearted workman and spineless milksop. He'd let the world see him at his worst, but ever since Mr. Krabs recrudesced the whole employee of the month ballyhoo, he had been inspired to position himself in a different light.

"Whatcha' up to kid?"

SpongeBob's heart skipped. He knew that voice. Looking down, he hissed, "Plankton?"

"Yeah, it's me. Why are you here?"

SpongeBob got his bearings and placed his hands on his hips, feeling a rush of adrenaline. "I should be asking you the same!" He reached down to pick up his spatula, before thrusting it out at the tiny creature. "You have no right to be here. Go home."

Plankton chuckled, shutting the door behind him and walking toward the frycook's direction. "Robert, listen-"

"Don't call me that."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He crawled up onto the desk and watched SpongeBob take a seat in his boss' chair, arms crossed and spatula fitted nicely through a belt loop in his pants. "Look, kid. I'm not supposed to be here, but you know that already."

SpongeBob looked unamused.

"And this time, it's actually not about the formula."

SpongeBob clasped his hands together, his spatula once again clattering to the floor. "That's hysterical, Plankton!" he laughed, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "That's rich."

"I'm serious, kid."

"Yeah, and I'm a circle. -No, better! A triangle!"

Plankton clenched his jaw, his temple throbbing. The sponge's laughter pierced his ears. Even the tone of his laugh was different. It was… bitter. It was unbearable, it really was, which is why Plankton was determined to get him off of his high seahorse and back down to the pink-collar employee he was.

"You're full of yourself, SpongeBob."

"Well, I am absorbent."

Plankton sat down in the middle of the desk, implying he'd be there a while. "You're so caught up in your work. There's a life outside of fast food, you know!"

"You're one to talk."

Darn his quick wit. "That… may be humiliatingly true and you might have some repartee in your britches, but look, buddy." He breathed in sharply. "You need to stop."

SpongeBob sat up, his shoulders at his sides. His eyebrows were slanted in opposite directions. For lack of a more sophisticated term, and just because [the author] can, he. looked. pissed.

"I think you need to get out!" came the shrill tone. He picked his spatula up off of the floor and gripped it tightly.

Plankton had to admit, an angry SpongeBob was pretty threatening, but if you could see through his skin, you would see a different person. A meeker person. The tiny creature got up from his place in the center of the table and stood his ground.

"I could squash you with a single swat, you know that?" His big blue eyes darted back and forth, scanning for a sign of fear, just a hint of alarm. Absolutely none. "Are you listening to me, Plankton?" His tone was louder, more angry now.

Plankton shrugged. "I can hear you, SpongeBob," he said, his voice hushed. "I can hear the voice of a young adult who has nothing to look forward to in life." The sponge's shocked snarl did not deter him. "This young adult works a dead-end job with no hopes of being recognized outside of it. He's got talent and wit and a big smile, and he'd love for it to go places. What brings him joy is bringing others joy, but he gets little more than 'Mmm, this tastes great!'. This creature doesn't crave fame, he craves appreciation, so when he is presented with an opportunity to shine, he just can't let it down. It gets to him."

SpongeBob was whimpering now, squeezing his spatula, his face red. Don't listen to him Sponge, he thought. He's the enemy.

"This young adult," Plankton sighed, "is led astray by the promises of a money-hungry bastard. He sees this person as a father-figure, he's too naive to notice. His coworker, he loves, but, uh, he don't love him back, hehe. He wants to show everyone how amazing he really is! He does these awesome things, but he's missing the issue. He's taking the joy from everybody else. He's conceited. This poor, weak fool tries to act like he knows it all, but really, he don't know sh-"

"Hey!" SpongeBob snapped, baring his teeth like a wild animal, made a bit comical by the way his two front teeth stuck out. "You can take your captains quarters and high-tail it outta here right now, Mister!"

He chuckled. "Wait, c'mon, SpongeBob. It was merely a simple metaphor to show you how much of a jackass you're being!"

"Get the barnacles out of here!"

"What, cursing offends you?"

"No, you do."

(Well, daaang.)

Fighting with a large, yellow finger, he said, "Hm, can't handle the truth, huh? Well, perhaps if you heard from someone who's close to you, maybe you'd heed my words." He whipped out a tape recorder.

SpongeBob raised a non-existent eyebrow, his curiosity betraying him. "Oh, really?"

"Really."

"Sit down, then," SpongeBob sighed. Though he wouldn't admit it, he had been pretty much defeated. Plankton had him intrigued and he was getting kinda bored anyway. It's not like the whole restaurant would catch on fire if he laid his head down for a second, but delusional Squidward had drilled that idea into his head, so he wasn't taking any chances. ("Squid's Day Off" reference!) If listening to Plankton and his nonsense kept him awake, perhaps he would listen. Just this once, he thought, will I consider the words of the enemy.

So SpongeBob listened. He listened to a sullen and disturbed voice, a voice he recognized immediately. The words that came through the tape were heartbreaking:

"Is it on, Plankton?"

"Hold on, fool, I'm fixing it."

"Get the stupid thing working!"

"For the love of Neptune, I'm tr- Oh! It's on. Tell the tape recorder what you wanna say to SpongeBob."

"I… uh, magic box, I just wanna say that I miss hanging out with SpongeBob all the time. Oh, SpongeBob, you always seem super busy with work, and I get that, but we're best pals. You're so worried about work, anymore! You're my best friend, who else am I supposed to hang out with? Squidward? He's a jerk, and lately you've been acting just like him. I think being around him all the time is doing something to your head. And believe me, I know a lot about, uhhh…"

"Snap out of it!"

"...mental disorders! SpongeBob, you're the smartest guy I know. You really are! But you've been so distant lately, and it hurts. If I lose your friendship, I don't know how I'm gonna get around. You're always by my side, always helping me through my stupid moments. You're the only one who gets me. But right now, I don't get you. But… OH, I LOVE YOU, SPONGEBOB!"

"Shhh, settle down."

"No, I love him! He's my friend, Plankton, I can't handle this."

"Quiet, you big oaf...Look, I know. I get it, you're upset. But remember, SpongeBob is going to hear this. Don't embarrass yourself, kid."

"I'm sorry, I just… I think… SpongeBob doesn't LOVE me anymore!"

"That won't be the case if I can help it, Patrick. SpongeBob is an emotional little shit, so he'll-"

"Ahem!" Plankton screamed awkwardly. "Pay no attention to that last part."

SpongeBob crossed his arms. For all he knew, that recording could have been staged. He breathed in sharply. The tape tugged at his heart strings, sure, but Neptune-damnit!, he was NOT going to be made to feel guilty. No, he wasn't a softie anymore. I've changed.

"Sorry, Plankton, but I have other priorities nowadays, and so do you. So quit pestering my friends and get back to your sorry life of crime. I've heard enough of your bullshrimp for one night." He got up and stretched, yawning loudly.

Plankton jaw dropped. "S-s-so you're just gonna disregard everything you just heard? A-are you kidding me? Those were the words of your best friend," he strained, his hands violently pulling at the antennae perched on top of his head.

"Don't get yourself so worked up, Plankton. You're the enemy. You're testing your luck simply by being here. I don't know why in the ocean you care so much about my own personal issues, but it's a little weird, don't you think?"

"Weird?"

"Yeah, with you being the enemy and all. There must be some sort of motive. Maybe a… secret formula?"

Plankton went bug-eyed for a second or two.

Oh, crap.

"No, kid, I…" Plankton sighed. "Look, I'm just trying to get you to keep your friendships. Eugene and I were best friends until that formula tore us apart. Look at us now, arch nemeses."

"Yeah, you're his NEMESIS, Plankton! So get the heck out! You've overstayed your un-welcome." He raised his spatula above his head with a surprising quickness. "You're an INTRUDER!"

*Splat!*

"I don't get it, Karen," Plankton said, swinging open the door of the Chum Bucket.

His wife stared back at him with a blank monitor. She would have rolled her tired eyes, if she had them. Karen loved Plankton, or at least, she was programmed to, but she often felt as if she was just her husband's therapist. Sometimes she felt as if her only purpose was to listen to Plankton, attend to his household chores, and to er… satisfy his more intimate desires. Every day, he came in with a new problem for her to process.

"Oh, not this again, Sheldon," she huffed. "It's so late. It's something like four in the morning! Didn't you come in yesterday ranting about the SpongeBob?" She rolled around the laboratory, dusting the cobwebs from the corner of the ceiling.

"Indeed, I did." Plankton entered the lab, his antennae drooping at his side. "I told you, I'm trying to get the stupid kid to step down from his prideful stance and engage that naivety once again. It's crucial for my stealing the formula."

"See, that's your problem, Plankton! You think he's unintelligent. 'Engage [his] naivety'. Do you hear yourself? He's not naive anymore! He's matured, he's grown smarter."

"Yes, but he's still SpongeBob! I'm sure there's away to work around his arrogance."

"You need to use his newfound sense of maturity to your advantage." Karen thought for a moment. She was a computer, a useful aid in Plankton's life. She was a smart machine that could be programmed and used to his advantage. All Plankton needed to successfully steal the Krabby Patty secret formula was a body that could be manipulated and taught. "SpongeBob is your tool," she finally said.

Plankton climbed up onto a table, to get a better look at his wife. This idea of her's… it wasn't half bad. Usually Plankton would consciously/unconsciously take credit or inspiration for/from his wife's ideas, but he had to admit, this was an interesting concept. "Use SpongeBob as a tool, you say?"

"Yes."

"Clever, Karen. You're a smart woman."

She scooped him up and allowed him to kiss her. It wasn't very often anymore that she got genuine compliments from her husband.

"Oh, Sheldon, I-" He shut her up with another kiss, and she swooned. "Oh, you're such a man when you're not obsessing over that formula. I wish you spent more time obsessing over me." The words fell from her mouth without restraint.

"Karen, I may spend all day coveting a piece of paper in a bottle, but baby, I'll spend all night copulating with you and going to town on that outlet of yours."

"Sheldon!" she gasped. "Oh, my. Y-you wanna take this to the bedroom?"

"Hell, yeah. Anything to take my mind off of SpongeBob and his antics. Good lord, he's a walking headache."

"Well, so are you!"

"Yeah, but I'm a sexy, walking headache."

Karen couldn't argue with that.

SpongeBob awoke to a knock on the door, and his eyes opened slowly. He had had enough nonsense and mind games for one morning. "Go away, Plankton," he mumbled. "Didn't I tell you to go home like an hour or somethin' ago?" He yawned. "I know you're only here for Mr. Krabs' formula."

"Indeed, I am here for the formula," the muffled voice became clear as day as the door swung open.

"Mr. Krabs!" he exclaimed, half-falling out of the seat.

"'Cause it's my formula, boy-o, now what's all this I'm hearin' about Plankton and his shenanergans?" He approached SpongeBob, who was looking disheveled as all get out. "He came by last night?"

"This morning, sir," he replied, sitting up straight in the chair as best he could. "Early."

"He didn't make off with the formula, did he?"

"Aw, hell no! Pshhh." He waved his hand. "I get Employee of the Month for the fifth month in a row this year and you think I would let a roach like Plankton get away? C'mon, Eugene."

"SpongeBob, I don't know who ye think you are, but ye can't be talkin' to me like I'm yer buddy or somethin'. I'm yer boss, and ye owe me some respect. Ye yerself know it better than anyone."

"Yes, sir! Sorry, sir."

"Good. Don't get too chummy with me, boy." He patted the arm of his chair. "Up, up."

SpongeBob slid out of the chair, plopping onto the ground in a drowsy mess. Working the night shift always drained him. He could count on his hands how many times fish had actually come down to the Krusty Krab for a meal past one in the morning. Despite the small numbers, he never felt as though he could truly rest, as that's how recipes get stolen and kids vandalize property. He craved sleep, but there was a price to be paid when you put yourself out there as a hard and willing worker.

The sponge struggled to stand up, his legs wobbling like thin pieces of jello. He held his aching head in his hands, massaging his temples with his thumbs. The thought of having to work for the next 12+ hours caught up with him, and he screamed.

Mr. Krabs took his rightful place back at his seat. "Come here, me boy," he said, his arms outstretched. He pulled SpongeBob in for a warm hug. Krabs loved SpongeBob, and loved his work ethic even more. Oh, how he wished Squidward were more like SpongeBob! So light-hearted, so polite, so hard-working. It hurt him to see the boy cry. SpongeBob was like a son to him.

"Boy, I think yer just trying to impress," he finally said. He broke the hug and picked up the young man, positioning him to stand behind the office desk.

SpongeBob looked up, wiping the tears from his ocular organs (or eyes, for those who are less intellectually inclined. Love you guys! ;D) His shoulders fell and his arms drooped at his sides. "To… impress?"

He nodded. "I appreciate yer diligence and willingness to work overtime, but, as much as I hate to say this and as much as I hate to lose potential profit, you and I both know that ain't nobody is stopping by the Krusty Krab for a meal past one in the morning. 'Cept for a certain derisory, little scum. Speaking of which, tell me, boy, what is it he wanted?"

"It's… complicated. At first I thought Plankton was here for the formula, but the next thing I know, I…" SpongeBob paused.

No.

He was NOT going to tell Mr. Krabs of how weak he had been, how puny he had acted in allowing Plankton to tool with his mind. He couldn't reveal to Mr. Krabs how he had allowed the man's arch nemesis to spend an hour on his private property, in his personal office, near his secret formula.

"Well, sir," he continued, "he creepily creeped in all creepy-like like the creep he is, and it gave me the creeps, but you bet I took my spatula and whacked the barnacles off of him!" He made violent motions with his hands.

"I get it, ye put him in his place, but what did he want? The formula, ye said?"

"Indeed."

"So, what, he came in empty-handed?"

"Not exactly, Mr. Krabs. He came in with a…"

~I… uh, magic box, I just wanna say that I miss hanging out with SpongeBob all the time.~

"...a magic box, sir."

Mr. Krabs squinted at him, confused. "A magic box, ye say?"

"Yes. One of his crazy inventions. But I splattered his guts across the floor and sent him home." He drew a hand to his forehead, giving a proud salute.

"I, uh…" Krabs forced a smile. "Good work, boy! Just don't go loopy on me, and be at yer station in half an hour. And, fer yer hard work, perhaps ye can take two breaks. That depends on if Mr. Squidward is cooperative or not, heh."

"Oh, believe me," SpongeBob said, stepping backwards out the door. "He'll cooperate."

"Squidward, honey!" the voice cooed from the kitchen. "I'm gonna have to ask you to cover for me while I take break numba' two!"

"TWO?"

"You heard 'em," came the voice of Mr. Krabs, echoing out from his office. "Be a good sport and comply!"

Bullshrimp. This was some bullshrimp. "But what if I choose not to?" he scoffed. "What then?!"

"How does SPENDING THE NIGHT WITH SPONGEBOB sound?"

"It sounds like garbage, Eugene!"

"Uh-huh, so shut yer trap! Nobody likes ye, Mr. Squidward."

"I know!" He crossed his arms, squinting at the customers who stared at him. "...How could I forget?"

SpongeBob kicked open the kitchen door, a large pillow and knitted blanket slung over his shoulder. He yawned, his mouth open wide and his tongue wriggling around in his mouth like a worm. "See ya in fifteen, Squidward. I'll be in the office," he chuckled.

Squidward swatted at the kiss that was blow in his direction. "The office?! What kind of fu- tomfoolery is this? You get to kick back and relax in the office for a quarter of an hour while I'm out here slaving away, himmin' and haulin' doing the work that YOU signed up to do? I'm a cashier, not a damn frycook. Hope ya'll like burnt patties," he said, jabbing a tentacle into the air at the people amongst him.

"So, Squidward was cooperative, huh?"

"Yep, yep!" SpongeBob grinned, setting up his pillow and blanket beside his boss' desk. He folded the blanket around him so that it both wrapped him up like a hotdog and shielded him from the cold, wooden floor. He looked into the distant, green eyes of his boss. "...Your eyes are so pretty."

"I, uh." He smiled down quizzically at the boy. "I appreciate the complerment, son, but ye know charming speech don't do nothin' for me. I ain't pretty."

"You may not be pretty all over, but really, Mr. K, your eyes are so" -he flipped through his dictionary- "captivating."

"They've seen a lot."

"I bet. You're, what, seventy now?"

"Somethin' like it. And in that course of time, I've really seen some things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Sick things, evil things," Mr. Krabs whispered, gazing into the distance. "Things that have scarred me for life... I've seen friends come and go. Companians, wives. I've seen wars, and the terrible effects that they have on whole communities. It does stuff to ye, boy-o. Ye need to value the life that you have, don't get so caught up in impressing others. Take care of yerself, nurture yer relationships. Let me tell ye a valuable story while yer here with me. A long time ago, way back in me Navy days-" He stopped when he heard snoring. Looking down, a cold frown instantly formed on his face.

SpongeBob had fallen asleep.

(Nep-damnit, SpongeBob.)